#and slightly uncommonly used words

[izvmimi]

cw: yandere. female noun for reader used once.

“Baby, did you hear a word I just said?”

You look up from your phone with a start, realizing you’ve been distracted for the past minute. Izuku is uncommonly sensitive these days, and the edge in his voice is sharper than usual as his emerald eyes flit from your phone screen back to your face. There’s a dull shine to them, matching with the very faint bags circling his eyes, and he lets out a sigh as he sets his dinner utensils down and runs his right hand through his messy hair before shaking his head.

“I’m sorry,” you say reflexively. Ever since your last argument, there have been new rules imposed - you mean, agreed upon - and one of these includes avoiding using your cell phone at dinner. After all, dinnertime is sacred between two loved ones, it’s the only recourse you both have from the demands of the day where you are face to face and replenishing with the fruits of your own labor. Man works so that they can eat. Man shares food with the people they love. 

Izuku’s meal is untouched. Yours has been picked at slightly, and your chopsticks are no longer neatly placed against your bowl but stuck nearly straight up in your rice. An affront, he’s already reminded you multiple times, but again you’re being careless, texting instead of talking to him, disregarding him, disregarding the sanctity of a meal, disregarding the fact that his jaw is clenched and he’s trying his best to remain calm, deep exhale through pursed lips.

He doesn’t tell you it’s okay, although you remember a time when you first started dating where every misstep you made could be assuaged by a mere pout and batting your eyelashes at him, because you were terribly cute to him no matter how much and often you disrespected him. Now, the corners of his lips perk up in a mirthless smile and he asks, tilting his head:

“Who’s that?”

You blink, and he exhales under his breath. “Who are you talking to?” he repeats, still smiling, trying very hard to be oh so patient with you, the corner of his lips hiked up higher than before.

You had perhaps smiled a little too much when receiving that text message. It was nothing really, just a group chat with your friends where you’d alerted them you’d be slow to reply, and the conversation still went on without you, with the intention for you to come back and get up to speed. A picture of a cat in a ridiculous situation of its own making had been posted and it’d drawn a chuckle out of you - even though you’re having dinner with your partner, the only person on this earth that should matter and does matter.

“My friend. You know her, remember?” you remind him. It shouldn’t be a big deal. Grabbing your chopsticks in your right hand again, you try to redirect him, indulging him in conversation.

“So as you were saying…-”

“Hey, can I see?”

Izuku has moved on from whatever he was trying to communicate and is already reaching his hand out in demand for you to give up your phone. He’s steady and stubborn like an ox, and you know he can stay in this position for as long as possible.

“It’s just a group chat, it’s not that interesting. Hold on, let me unlock it for you,” you start, but he insists.

“Just hand it over.” 

The edge is sharper still, practically bleeding as though it were already pressed against the soft skin of your neck. 

Your throat dries, but you hand it over hastily, practically slapping it into his palm.

“Good girl.”

Before you can guess what his next move is, he’s closed his fingers around the phone the wrong way around and it’s so small in his hand, just as vulnerable as you are.

It snaps.

Izuku doesn’t make a dramatic scene of it; he stares at you, unwaveringly, the entire time, as the glass and metal and whatever else of the phone crumples and gives way in his hand like wet toilet paper, and he looks practically bored doing it, as if he were doing a necessary chore like taking out the trash when his roommate forgot to do it. Once he’s done, it’s set aside, nonchalantly at the edge of the table, in an irregular, far too neat clump.

“Focus on your meal,” he says.

Bile rises in your throat quickly, then subsides as he picks up his chopsticks again. 

“Yes.”

Three seconds pass, and he picks up speech again.

“So as I was saying, Kacchan’s been really struggling with making sure his paperwork is in on time and it’s causing stress for everyone else and-”

“They’ll ask, you know,” you pipe up, suddenly. It’s in a small voice, smaller than you want it to be, but it’s enough for him to know that he’s been interrupted and that you have something to say. Izuku’s eyes narrow as he looks at you for a moment, then picks up the metal ball that comprises the remains of your cell phone and rolls it in his other hand.

“Who’s they?” he asks, softly. His feigned ignorance seems to mock you.

“The phone company. That’s the fourth one this month, Izuku.”

He tilts his head, pondering for a moment. “Really?”

You prevent yourself from gritting your teeth, and reply sweetly, “Really.”

“They won’t ask. We can afford it.”

The word ‘we’ both aggravates and mollifies you. We means him and you, you and him. You are equals. You are not possessed, even if he could very much do so, own you, if he wanted to.

Allowing yourself to wrap yourself up tightly, safe and warm, in this understanding, you aim to take a bite of food in your chopsticks but decide instead to let your chopsticks dip over to his plate to pick a piece of roasted meat off of his plate before slipping it into your mouth coyly. 

“If you say so,” you add between bites. He smiles, glad that despite all this hassle, you’re still very much, and inevitably so, his.

[shadowdaddies]

Hi can I request a nessian x male!reader, where he is deaf and mute. How they met, when did the bond snap, inner circle reactions, maybe they are lerning sign language, and some Cassian scarying him. Maybe also a bit of angst, where they have a little spicy time and he cant say stop or smh. I know its weird, and detailed, but I really want to see this and i know you are an amazing writer and i know you will write it the best🫶🫶

hi, thank you so much for this request! I enjoyed writing this, and I hope I did your idea justice💜

A/N: for anyone who wants to read this without the angst/safe-wording, I've put that part between sets of "***" so you can skip over it if needed

Everything to Me

Nessian x m!Reader

warnings: (this is fluff, smut, and angst) smut below the cut, oral f!receiving, anal sex, use of safe word

The icy Illyrian air whipped around you, nose and cheeks tinged red from the cold. You felt the new-fallen snow crunch beneath your boots, the chill in your lungs from the wind making you desperate to get back inside quickly.

Pulling back the panel of animal hide that served as the entrance, you ducked down and moved into the healers’ tent. Instant warmth seeped into your bones, muscles relaxing as you sighed with relief.

A motion in the corner caught your eye, gaze drifting to where another healer, Attia, smiled warmly at you. “I made some tea for you,” she signed, turning to pour steaming liquid from the kettle into a cup. 

She held it out for you, nodding politely when you signed a stiff “thank you,” before wrapping your hands around the warm drink. The heat from the vessel alone was enough to lift your spirits, bringing life back to your numb hands.

A small chill hit your back, and you followed Attia’s gaze to the entrance of the tent where two Illyrian males stood. You offered a grin to the one you recognized, hazel eyes meeting yours as he matched your greeting with a nod of his own.

Setting your cup to the side, you freed your hands to talk with him. “Azriel,” you greeted, “how are your wings?”

“Much better, thanks to you,” Az signed back, and only then did you realize who was standing in the tent slightly behind the shadowsinger. 

General Cassian looked on with interest as Azriel turned slightly towards him to speak, signing his words as he did so you could follow the conversation. “This is our new best healer. He is who repaired my wings last year.”

“...And this is Cassian,” Azriel continued as he turned to face you. Your eyes met the general’s, but his eyes did not fall to where you were moving your hands in communication.

Instead, the Lord of Bloodshed stumbled back slightly, his eyes going wide the moment you made eye contact. Sudden fear struck you, unsure of what you did to prompt Cassian’s reaction - but before you could amend the situation, he’d uttered some words to Azriel before disappearing into the cold.

Even the stoic shadowsinger’s eyes flickered with shock before he composed himself. “I am sorry about Cassian - it seems he had somewhere to be.” His gaze swept the room, noting the teapot on the table next to Attia. “Would you mind if I joined you both for some tea?”

You knew his friendliness was a distraction - in the time you’d known the spymaster, you’d learned that while he might be kind at heart, he was not friendly. Nonetheless, you nodded, joining him as you sat on a cushion and enjoyed the conversation.

~~~

Several days passed before a familiar face showed in the healers’ tent again, Cassian looking much calmer and more put together than you’d last seen him. A striking female stood next to him - his mate, Nesta, from what you had heard.

There was an air of curiosity about her, silver eyes boring into you as though she were looking for something that not even you could see. Chin raised in a queenly elegance, the female lifted her lips in a graceful smile.

“My name is Nesta. I believe you met my mate, Cassian, already,” she signed, movements a little slow but uncommonly graceful.

Nervously, you looked to the general, your pleasant surprise apparent when he gestured, “it is good to see you again. I am learning sign language.” It was clear he had rehearsed the motions, but you weren’t sure why he had put in the effort after meeting so briefly.

“It is good to see you, too,” you signed back - slower than usual - making sure to give a pleasant smile as you did so.

From then on, Nesta and Cassian would visit you often, joining you for lunch in between training sessions at the camps, practicing their sign language with you - they were kind and supportive, curious about you and your work as a healer. 

You quickly found the both of them to be an integral part of your life, waking up each morning excited to see them. Days were brighter, the newfound friendship filling a void within you that you hadn’t known existed.

It was unlike any other friendship, or even any other relationship that you’d had before. This connection was deeper, and you were pondering how that could be one night outside by the fire with Nesta and Cassian when it hit you.

As your eyes wandered to where their hands were joined, sipping ale while they watched the fire, you realized with a pang of jealousy that you wanted that as well. You wanted their touch, their love, to stop waiting until they visited to be able to see them.

As if sensing your thoughts, Nesta turned to look at you, silver eyes reflecting the flames from the crackling fire when you dropped your drink into the dirt, frothy ale spilling out on the ground.

As easily as the two people in front of you slid into your life like missing pieces, the puzzle was put together before you. Cassian’s shocked reaction when you first met, the pull that you felt towards him and Nesta - everything snapped into place when you felt that odd tug pulling at your rib.

Nesta and Cassian exchanged a glance before turning back towards you, gentle and cautious while they studied your reaction. 

A lump formed in your throat, hands twitching anxiously as the words escaped you, so you signed the only one that seemed to echo through your mind. “Mates?”

You felt your eyes well with emotion, tears threatening to spill over the corners when they both nodded. 

~~~

The same overwhelming feeling of love and contentment settled in your soul as the dying embers of the hearth brought you back to the memories of that night. Marking your place in the book you were reading, you turned your head to admire the painting Feyre had gifted you - a perfect recreation of your mating ceremony, with Cassian and Nesta seated on either side of you as you dined and celebrated with friends and family.

You noticed Nesta in the corner of your eye, your mate smiling brightly down at you. “What are you thinking?” she signed, taking a seat next to you on the sofa.

The scent of fire and steel invaded your senses, her alluring aroma slightly darkened as you allowed your gaze to drag over the sight of her in her training leathers. “I am thinking how much I love you,” you signed, smirking at the flush across her cheeks, the way her chest began to rise and fall with more effort. “I’m thinking how I can’t believe I lived so long without you and Cassian,” your lips dragged slowly up her neck, sucking softly on her fluttering pulse before you pulled away. “I am thinking that I need you, now.”

Nesta’s throat bobbed as she signed hastily, “then take me.” 

You wasted no time, hands wrapping around her thighs as her arms wove around your neck, teeth and tongues clashing in a passionate kiss. Your knees hit the mattress, your cue to lay your mate down softly on the bed, her golden brown hair splayed out beneath her.

“You are beautiful,” you told her, dropping your hands to the ties of her pants while she helped you pull them off. Nesta slid backwards to the top of the bed, her head resting against the pillows, hands finding purchase in your hair as you kissed the soft skin of her thighs.

Prying her legs open, the scent of her arousal was intoxicating, removing any semblance of restraint you might have had. Diving into her core, you sucked on her clit, tongue flicking out against the sensitive bud. 

She writhed beneath you, sending your male pride surging as you felt the vibrations of her moans against your face and hands. You brought one finger to curl inside of her, pumping slowly as her slick grew before adding a second.

Keeping your mouth on her clit, you curled and twisted your fingers inside her warmth, biting back a grin as you sent her spiraling into an orgasm in no time. 

Pulling your fingers from Nesta’s pussy, you held them up in the light to let her see her release before bringing them to your lips and sucking. “Delicious,” you signed, cock twitching at the adorable blush on her cheeks at your filthy words.

The change in shadows and Nesta’s glance towards the door drew you from the moment, your eyes following hers to see Cassian standing in the doorframe. His hazel eyes were dark and wild, his own cock straining against his pants.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Nesta asked, back arching with a feline playfulness as she watched your other mate stride towards you.

“I did,” Cassian replied, his signing much more punctuated than Nesta’s satiated movements. “But it looks like you’ve yet to take care of our mate,” he nodded towards where your cock was leaking through your pants.

Nesta arched a dark brow at you, a sultry look on her face as she leaned forward, unbuttoning your shirt while pressing soft kisses to the newly exposed skin. You felt Cassian’s warmth behind you, sensed his movements as he undressed. 

They both helped you remove your pants, the three of you now bare and aching with desire. Cassian must have said something to Nesta, because she returned to her place at the head of the bed, kneeling there with her hair covering her full breasts. “Elbows and knees,” she directed to you, sucking in a breath as you obeyed with leisure, soaking in her expressions as you crawled between her legs, ass in the air for Cassian behind you.

Cassian’s strong hands settled firmly on your ass, working the flesh there as you felt a cold substance poured over your hole. One finger slid inside of you, then two, and your head fell into Nesta’s lap as Cassian worked you open.

Delicate fingers wove through your hair, teasing along the sensitive membrane of your wing in just the right place to leave your body shaking. Collapsing into the sheets, you buried your face once more in Nesta’s wet pussy, eating her out slowly this time as Cassian entered you from behind.

It was ecstasy, to be between your mates like this. You struggled to focus on Nesta, your technique growing sloppy the harder Cassian thrust inside of you. 

***

Suddenly, you felt Cassian’s hands wrap around your wrists, holding them together behind you to arch your back in a way that let him hit impossibly deeper. You could hardly breathe, the pleasure was too much, or so you thought. 

Cassian continued pounding into you, but you couldn’t breathe pressed against Nesta’s skin. You pulled away as best you could, head instead falling into the sheets at an uncomfortable angle. You could hardly think of anything except that you needed this to stop, needed a break, but you couldn’t sign to them.

As Cassian thrust into you again, fingertips found his wrists, and you dug a nail hard into the skin there, quickly making an attempt to sign “stop.”

All at once, everything stilled, and you felt Nesta move from beneath you to lay at your side, face level with your own. “Are you hurt?”

Shaking your head, you let your now-released hands fall to the mattress as Cassian slid out of you. You turned over so they could both see your hands, and still catching your breath, explained. “I am not hurt. I could not breathe well, and got scared when I couldn’t use my hands.” 

You noticed Cassian’s face crumble with guilt, the general falling back on his heels. Feeling his pain through the bond, you leaned forward, hands finding his cheeks as you pulled him in for a gentle kiss. 

“I am okay. This is just something we need to talk about in the future - a way for us all to still be able to communicate in bed.”

***

Cass’s gaze softened slightly, visible relief edging at his features. “You are sure you’re alright?” he pressed.

“I am sure. Now, will you please lay with me?” you asked, taking his hand and Nesta’s in each of yours as you guided them to join you under the covers. 

Nesta’s arms wound around your waist, her body curling into your side, one leg hiked across your own. You found Cassian’s hand, intertwining it with your own to press a kiss to the tough skin there. You smiled softly at the feeling of his long onyx hair brushing your neck, soft lips pressed to your cheek before you drifted off to sleep in your mates’ warm embrace.

[heeliopheelia]

"don't give me that look" + "i know you feel how i feel" (niki x fem! reader)

genre: fluff word count: 1.1k requested by @i-am-confused-about-life ♡

warnings: swearing, a tiny mention of blood

a/n: it's currently after midnight and i had 4 hours of sleep today 🧍i know you suggested for it to be angsty as well but i just couldn't think of a way to mix these two genres together in here 🤓 hope you still like it tho, love!! 💜

"Tie your shoelaces, loser."

Taking a discreet glance at your sneakers, you roll your eyes as you notice that they're, in fact, loose and dragging on the concrete. Not wanting to disturb people on the sidewalk, you take two steps to the side to tie your shoe in there, only to end up tripping over the ungodly long shoelace and nearly falling face flat to the ground.

"Do I need to teach you how to walk or something?" Riki teases from above you, hands on your waist as his grip on you is the only thing keeping you away from the concrete.

Once he's sure you're balanced again, he sighs heavily before crouching down in front of you.

"What are you doing?" You ask in confusion, watching as he grabs your white shoelaces in between his long fingers.

"So damn incompetent," he mutters, finishing tying your shoe with a neat bow at the top. Raising back to his feet, he flicks your nose playfully. "Would a simple thank you kill you? Strip you from your honor?"

"I'm not a child, Riki," you grumble, fervently tugging on your hair to cover up your reddening ears.

"And yet it's you who almost kissed the ground just a minute ago," he bites back with a light scoff.

Shoving him to the side, you miss to spot the large crack in the sidewalk, causing you to trip again and lurch forward, falling on your bare knees. You whine quietly, glaring at the gap in between the concrete tiles.

"Fuck, are you okay?" Riki asks, rushing to grab you under your arms and pull you back on your legs. You wince at the soreness in your knees and you look down, noticing the thin stream of blood seeping through the broken skin. "Jesus, you're such a clutz."

"It's all your fault," you pout, putting the blame on your best friend. "You were so annoying, I forgot to look where I was going!"

Riki scoffs at your poor excuse before stepping away to take a better look at your hurt knees. A slight frown appears on his face and you shift in your place, not used to being an object of such intense attention. Before the butterflies in your stomach have the chance to drill your stomach through or before the blush blossoming on your cheeks devours your entire face, you poke his shoulder.

"It's just a small cut, nothing big," you try to dismiss it, eager to start walking again. "It's probably only gonna bruise, that's all."

Riki raises his eyebrow. "Or it can get infected and do some real damage, stupid," he scolds, flicking your forehead. "You need to be more careful."

"Watch out or I'm gonna believe you're actually worried about me," you tease, impatiently tugging on his elbow to start moving.

"I just don't want you to get hurt," he replies with a voice uncommonly soft for him before getting back to his usual cheeky self. "You're so ugly when you cry. Scares the living shit out of me each time."

His words echo through your head and your face is already burning by the time you realize that you were right and he's actually genuinely concerned for you.

"Shut up, you sound like you have a crush on me or something," you mumble out, embarrassed.

"Yeah, maybe I do."

He's so sickeningly composed as he looks at your face being struck with shock - eyes widening, mouth dropping slightly as you gape at him.

"Y-You what?" You involuntarily stutter, instantly abandoning your cool facade. Your heart is in your throat right now and no matter how much you swallow, it doesn't go away. "Stop joking around like that. It's not funny."

"It wasn't supposed to be," he huffs, eyes bright and confident as he pierces you through with his gaze. "Don't give me that look. Are you really that slow? I thought you already knew. All of our friends caught up last year."

"Last year?" You exclaim. You grasp onto any sanity left in you after his confession, absolutely convinced you're about to faint.

"Well, yeah. But I've liked you way longer than that."

And suddenly you it all connects together in your head. How he smiles a little too much whenever you're around. How you've caught his gaze across the classroom one too many times before he he tried to play it off and roll his eyes at you. The way he claims all of your jokes are so 'stupid' and yet he never fails to laugh his heart out after hearing them. As you start putting all the puzzles together, you realize that perhaps he's not lying after all and maybe you're really that oblivious.

"Damn, you must like me a lot, huh?" You tease him, trying to turn the tables and catch him off guard for a change.

"That I do. But probably not as much as you like me," he says and your heart suddenly forgets how to work properly. You gawk at him in confusion. "Sunoo spilled. I know you feel how I feel," he explains, earning a betrayed gasp from of you.

"That big-mouth traitor!"

"Hey, at least that gave me the green light to come clean to you, no?" He asks, pulling you closer by the waistband of your shorts. "Cut him some slack. It's not like he meant to snitch on you anyway. I kinda put him against the wall."

You can't stop the big smile from crawling onto your lips as you let out a giddy laughter, one that nearly has Riki's knees buckling here and there.

"So what are we gonna do with this anomaly now?"

You watch as the corners of his mouth irk up as he leans down and brushes his nose against yours.

"Well, I think a date is what you normally start the relationship with. But since when are we normal?"

You fail to suppress your smile again. Riki's just too charming for his own good, you both know that. Raising on your toes, you gently brush your lips against his, pressing a butterfly kiss on his plush mouth. You need to pull away because you're sure your heart is about to explode in no second. Kissing him feels like too much and not enough at the same time, making your mind go in a haze.

"Thought you could do better than that."

You gasp at his statement, hitting his arm at his boldness. He rubs the itching place with a wince and sends you a pointing look. "Be gentle, please. You wouldn't want to give your boyfriend a sore arm now, would you? How else would he carry your bag every day after school?"

You scoff and bite back a smile as you take a glance at your backpack hooked over his shoulder. "Boyfriend?" You ask instead.

"Yeah. You're my girl now," he says as if it's the most obvious thing in the entire world. With a shrug, he envelops your hand in his, intertwining your fingers together before he starts walking again. "Come on. I should probably take you out for dinner now, huh?"

permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997

[library-ghoulette]

day 18 // monsterfucking

Prompt list thanks to @kroas-adtam 💜

Pairing: Mountain x reader

Rating: Explicit, minors DNI

Words: 2103

Tags: Second person POV, female reader, gardener reader, monster fluff, monsterfucking, non-humanoid creature, cunnilingus, light bondage

Summary: After some prodding, Mountain agrees to show you his true ghoul form for the first time.

A/N: I love monsterfucker erotica and I love imagining Mountain as a huge, eldritch forest spirit, so here you go!

You can also read this--and all my other fics--on ao3!

"I want to see you," you say.

It's a beautiful day, the kind of day that's so perfect it seems unreal. The earth of the clearing is warm through the old quilt you're lying on, and diamonds of buttery sunshine fill the space, dappled by the leaves dancing in the cool breeze overhead. And of course, Mountain is there, his presence warm and solid and reassuring.

You hadn't quite known what to make of the ghoul when you had first been assigned to work in the gardens. He had been quiet, even taciturn, when you first met him. But days had turned into weeks, and he had slowly opened up to you bit by bit, trading growing tips and facts about native species, until finally, his hand had brushed yours while repotting seedlings in the greenhouse, and something you had scarcely known had been growing burst into full bloom.

"I'm right here," he says now, looking up at you from his position on his back, with you propped up on your elbow at his side, one leg thrown casually over his. You're both slightly disheveled, lips kiss-swollen from the lazy afternoon makeout session.

"No, I mean the… the real you."

While it differs depending on occasion and personal preference, all of the ghouls around the Ministry stay glamoured much of the time. It comes with the territory of being demons who live and work in close proximity to humans; some level of illusion just makes everyone a bit more comfortable.

It's not unusual to see ghouls in the form of uncommonly attractive humans with some inhuman enhancements: eerie eyes, various markings, horns.

But Mountain's appearance is always more understated. Long, light brown hair that he keeps pulled back out of his eyes in a ponytail, so it can't get in the way when he's tending to the plants or when he's drumming. And he never has his antlers on display indoors—he's already so tall that the added height makes doorways a challenge.

Something in his hazel eyes darkens at your words. "No."

Maybe you should let it go, but you press on. "Come on, please? I've seen unglamoured ghouls before, you know."

"Who, Aurora? Cumulus?" he scoffs.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He runs a reassuring hand up your arm at the sharp tone in your voice. "Nothing. Just that…" He sighs. "Not all ghouls have the same form."

"I know that," you protest, suppressing the urge to say No shit.

"And some of us look… Less human than others."

"I'm okay with that," you reassure him, but he shakes his head.

"Some of us look… scary. To humans."

Your heart twists at how vulnerable he looks. Your kind, gentle ghoul who tends to the most delicate plants—and to you—with nothing but tenderness and care. You lean down to kiss him, putting as much love into the press of your lips as you can, and when you break away you whisper, "I could never be afraid of you."

It must work, because Mountain searches your face for a moment before relenting.

"Okay," he says, pushing you aside gently as he sits up. "I'll do it."

When you let out a little squeal of happiness at getting your way—and at the thought of having your curiosity satisfied at long last—he shoots you an admonishing look.

"I'm going to go over behind those trees to take the glamour off," he says. "It's less jarring that way. And, uh…"

"Yes?" you prompt.

"Just try not to scream, okay?"

Before you can say anything, he's ducked behind a thick oak that completely hides him from sight. You can hear the rustle of fabric and the clinking of his belt as he shucks out of his clothes. You giggle quietly at the silliness of it all—you've seen him naked countless times, he has no reason to be so shy—but the giggle dies in your throat when a long, furred leg steps forward from behind the tree.

What follows is perhaps the largest deer you've ever seen, a stag really, though that doesn't do it justice. There's something decidedly other in both its demeanor and appearance, a subtle sheen of dark magic that makes it difficult to look at for too long.

Your gaze follows that long, hoofed leg upward as the creature approaches you, taking in the muscular body covered in dark fur, the height that goes up and up and up, leading to a skeletal head stripped of flesh. The skull gleams white as moonlight and is crowned with a massive pair of antlers. In the depths of its hollow eye sockets flow twin flames, burning with an unnatural green light.

You realize that there are vines twisting around the stag's antlers. No, not just around his antlers—they twine around his entire body, around the places where bone shows through the dark fur. The vines almost seem to be holding him together, and when he moves, they move with him, not impeding him at all.

Mountain steps into the clearing toward you, but stops after only a few long, long steps.

Do you see what I mean? he asks, his skeletal jaws not moving, his voice seeming to emanate from somewhere within your own ribcage. You press a palm to your chest at the unfamiliar sensation, and feel your heart beating hard and fast.

You stand. Admittedly, your legs are shaky, but you find your bearings and walk toward him. The grass of the clearing is soft beneath your bare feet as you approach.

At first Mountain pulls back from you, shying away like a timid creature of the forest—which, you suppose, in some ways, he is—but you reach out your hand to him and slowly, he lowers his head. He lets you stroke your palm gently over his bony snout, up the slope of his nose, down into the bristly fur of his neck. He makes a snuffling sound that startles you at first, but which clearly indicates pleasure, judging from the way he leans into your touch.

"You're magnificent," you breathe, awed both by his appearance and by the trust he placed in you by choosing to reveal it to you.

Mountain cocks his head to the side. Although without skin he can't make facial expressions, his body language is easy enough to read.

You're not… afraid of me? he asks.

"No," you say, realizing that it's true. There is something unsettled about what you feel, but it's not anything as straightforward as fear. It's more awe mingled with curiosity.

You step back and move to circle around him, wanting to see more of him. He does a little side-step, almost like a dog who doesn't want to lose its line of sight on you. Not threatening, but… attentive.

It's strange to think that this creature is the same Mountain, the one that you work alongside every day, the same one whose large hand you've held yours against palm-to-palm to compare sizes, the same one you've kissed and touched and—

"Have you ever… you know… with a human? In this form?"

The question is out of your mouth before you can think better of it, but Mountain, unoffended, only lets out a snuffle that you take to be laughter.

I am thousands of years old, he says. Do you think that in all that time, I've never encountered a human who was… interested?

You scowl at him teasingly. "Well," you huff, "now I'm jealous."

To your surprise, one of the vines unfurls itself from somewhere you don't quite see, somewhere toward the back of his strong, thick neck, and extends toward you. With a feather-light touch, it cups your cheek, traces along the line of your jaw.

You don't have to be jealous. Do you want—

"Yes."

You barely know what you're agreeing to, but you know that you want it. Your partner might not be human—or even humanoid, at present—but you know that you love him. You know that you trust him with both your heart and your body. You're eager for whatever new things you can experience with him.

Luckily, Mountain takes you at your word. More vines appear, joining the first, caressing you through the lightweight fabric of your sundress. It's odd at first—you're used to having a human body pressed against yours, to long, messy kisses and roving hands, to touching as you are being touched—but when they begin to delve beneath your dress, caressing your nipples and the insides of your thighs and pulling your panties down, you don't think about the strangeness. You only think that you want more.

As though responding to some unspoken cue, the vines twine together, reinforcing themselves before wrapping firmly around your upper arms, your waist, your thighs, and lifting. You let out an involuntary yelp as your feet leave the ground, but you soon realize that you're in no danger of falling.

Mountain lifts you until you're even with his skeletal face. The green fire dances in the black depths of his eye sockets, the intensity sending a pleasant chill down your spine.

With a slight shift, the vines tilt you back and spread your thighs. You gasp as the air hits your pussy, drawing your awareness to how wet you are.

So beautiful. And so brave, Mountain's voice rumbles through you. May I taste you?

You nod and stammer out a yes, please, hoping you don't have to ask again because you feel like you'll die without some friction, some release, even if you have no idea what this is going to feel like, how it's going to work without the usual number of lips.

Mountain's huge, bony snout draws closer to your pussy, and his fleshless jaws part to make way for a long, purplish pink tongue. Like the rest of him, it's huge compared to your human body, a fact that becomes even more apparent when he presses it against your cunt and you realize how much area it covers.

And then it begins to move. Long, languid strokes up your center. Exploratory, because although your taste is familiar to him, this is the first time he's experiencing you while in this form, which makes it new. He takes his time to gauge your reactions—your deep sighs, the unconscious spread of your thighs wider and wider—and to build your pleasure accordingly.

It's amazing how much dexterity a tongue that size can have, how much precision. Shocking how easily the same circling pressure you like on your clit translates to what he's doing now. You could come this way, you think, already on the verge of falling apart, when his tongue folds, the tip delving down to press into your entrance as its incredible length slides along your clit.

You gasp as his tongue presses past your entrance, filling you as easily as any cock you've ever taken, more dexterous than any fingers you've ever had inside you. Your head is falling back in pleasure even before he runs the tip of his tongue over your front wall, effortlessly zeroing in on the spot that makes you cry out.

A flock of birds take flight from the trees around the clearing, startled by your volume, but you pay them no mind. The only thing you can think about is the slippery pressure of Mountain's monstrous tongue, the tension of his vines holding you in place and spreading you wider for him, the desperate need for more and more and more until you fall apart, limbs gone limp within their verdant bonds.

When you open your eyes, the first thing you notice is the flowers. Tiny buds you hadn't noticed all along the lengths of the vines, now burst into full bloom. Delicate blue morning glories and the huge, white trumpets of moonflowers and others that you can't identify, flowers, perhaps, from some other realm that human eyes have seldom if ever seen.

"Is that because of me?" you ask, breathless.

Mountain cocks his head in confusion, then realizes what you mean. It happens sometimes, he explains, when I'm… happy.

He lowers you gently onto the quilt, releasing his hold on your limbs before folding his long legs and lying down beside you.

You nestle against his furred side, sleepy from afterglow and the warmth of the afternoon sun. You let out a yawn and ask, "I make you happy?"

Mm. Yes, he says, as you begin to drift away, knowing that you are safe with him. You make me happier than I've been in centuries.

[bobfloydsbabe]

never really cared (until i met you) | jake seresin x oc

a turning tables fic

SUMMARY: While saying goodbye before he leaves on a mission, Jas realizes there may be more to her relationship with Jake than she thought.

WARNINGS: angst, mentions of a dangerous mission, mild fluff. strictly 18+/minors dni.

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

TURNING TABLES MASTERLIST

JOIN THE TAGLIST

A/N: It's my birthday (29, yikes), and my gift to you is this fic. It was supposed to be longer, but alas, it is not. Thank you for your support of me and my writing. This is also my very late submission for @roosterforme's rocktober writing challenge where I picked the song Alone by Heart. Enjoy!

She watches Jake sitting on the edge of her bed getting ready to leave not just her house, but the city. Taken away by an aircraft carrier at sea for a mission he might not survive. He’s not allowed to tell her, but she knows. 

The room is dark save for the lamp on the nightstand, soft yellow light bouncing off Jake’s perfectly tan skin, making him appear almost golden. He stands, his shoulder muscles moving fluidly underneath the skin, and they tense as he reaches for his jeans on the floor. He pulls them on and does the button up.

Next, he looks for his t-shirt while Jas sits up in the bed, letting the sheet fall into her lap. She watches him pull the black cotton over his head, and his golden hair looks even more unruly than it did before. The shirt stretches across his chest and fits narrowly around his biceps, and he almost looks like a god. Not that Jas would ever tell him that. She’d never hear the end of it.

His gaze holds hers as he tries to tame his hair, then he places a knee on the mattress, making it dip as he leans in and kisses her. She used to never allow this intimacy. They’d get each other off and he would go, vowing to not speak a word of it. Now she allows him to kiss her because it may be one of the last.

She may not know the details of the mission, but you could cut the tension on base with a knife for weeks. When Floyd and Trace went down, Jake came to her with a distraught look on his face. She’d never seen him like that, and any jabs she’d wanted to make died on her tongue. 

Since then, she’s seen more of him. He stayed the night, and she would let him kiss her in the kitchen in the morning. She even let him come to her office to vent and let him buy her an old-fashioned at The Hard Deck a few times. Now, she’s letting him kiss her before he leaves on a suicide mission.

Jake gets off the bed and pulls on his boots. He reaches for the sheet on his side of the bed to make it, but stops at the look Jas sends him. “Leave it, Seresin.”

He nods, straightening his back again. “I’m gonna head back.”

Jas stands from the bed, contemplates walking him to the door in the nude, but decides against. She grabs clean panties and a t-shirt from the dresser and puts them on while Jake watches her every move.

She follows him to the front door, trailing behind him on bare feet. Uncertainty hangs in the air, rendering them both unusually quiet. Jas doesn’t know what to do with the silence.

Jake pulls the front door open. A light breeze flows through, making Jas shiver in the thin t-shirt she put on. Hugging herself, she runs her palms up and down her arms, trying to stay warm.

Jake turns to face her, expression uncommonly serious. He looks like he wants to say something by the way his mouth hangs slightly ajar, and his eyes search for something in hers. She’s not sure what.

“Doc,” he says, voice clear and bright in the faded glow from the porch light.

She steps forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and kisses him. His mouth moves against hers in slow, languid motions and she revels in his taste. She clings to him, and his strong arms tighten around her waist, keeping her close. Some part of her never wants to let him go, wants him to stay here with her where he’s safe.

But he has orders and a mission to complete, so Jas pulls back, leaning her forehead against his. Their heavy breaths mix and she wonders if he can hear how hard her heart pounds in her chest.

“I gotta go,” he says and untangles himself from Jas, but she senses hesitation in him. He doesn’t want to go anymore than Jas wants him to.

She doesn’t say any of it, though. She simply nods and steps back. You’d think after years in the Navy, she’d be better at goodbyes like this, but she’s not. Something about seeing Jake walk down those front porch steps makes her stomach churn.

He’s halfway down the path to his car parked on the street when she steps onto the porch and calls for him. “Jake.” 

He stops in his tracks. In the rapidly approaching dawn, she can tell he takes a deep breath before turning back around. He walks back toward her, stopping at the bottom of the stairs.

He’s quiet, waits for her to do the talking. “Give me your phone,” Jas finally says and walks down the steps, holding her hand out towards him.

A furrow appears between his brows, but he complies, handing it over.

Typing in her number, she saves it under the name Doc, even though she hates when he calls her that. At first. Now she’s grown used to it, and hearing him call her anything else feels wrong.

“Here,” she mutters and hands it back to him. “Text me when you get back.”

He looks down that the phone that now sits in his hand, the furrow between his brows having deepened in confusion. Jas has refused to give him her number for weeks, but now that she’s done it, it looks as if he can’t fathom why.

“Doc, I–”

She cuts him off with a kiss. It’s the only way she knows how to express that letting him leave is one of the hardest things she’s ever done. She doesn’t have the energy to unpack exactly what that says about her situation with Jake.

Breaking the kiss, she plays with the short hair at his nape. “Let me know you’re alive,” she mumbles and pecks his lips again.

His hands rest on her waist, setting her skin on fire, and if he didn’t have to be back on base soon, she’d be ready to go again. It’d be the third time in the past 24 hours, which isn’t their record, but close.

“I gotta go,” he whispers.

She takes a deep breath, allowing the scent of him���leather and jet fuel–to fill her nostrils. She commits it to memory and hopes the pillow on his side of the bed smells like him.

Then she takes a step back and straightens her spine. Composes herself and reminds herself that Jake is just some guy she’s fucking. They’re not serious, and she ignores the hurt that crosses his face for a split second. He’s expecting her to say something, but the words that threaten to pass her lips are stuck in her throat.

He says nothing as he turns around and walks down the path to his car. He doesn’t wave as he drives off towards base, leaving Jas standing at the foot of the porch stairs in just a t-shirt and panties.

She watches him drive into the sunrise and out of her reach.

likes are nice, reblogs and comment are golden

TAGLIST: @blue-aconite, @kmc1989, @callsign-magnolia, @cherrycola27, @thedroneranger, @bluezraven, @desert-fern, @dizzydisaster, @hangmandruigandmav, @keyrani, @jessicab1991, @mamachasesmayhem, @hookslove1592, @joaquinwhorres

[stonesilhouette]

Thanks For Nothing

Yandere America x G.N. Reader

TW: General Yandereness | Implied Kidnapping | Imprisonment | America feeds you food with a fork so idk | Non-consensual kissing (just for a moment) | Thanksgiving? | Reader is tied up

If you can't tell I'm really bad at adding tw's but I always find it helpful to avoid stuff I don't want to read so I tried my best. Go ahead and tell me if there's something I missed.

Also, I know Thanksgiving was two days ago I randomly got the urge to write this last night. I'm like slightly embarrassed by this but I haven't posted anything in over a year so you get this.

Tableware clinked against wood as it was gingerly laid down by an uncommonly careful hand. The room was well lit with candles flickering shadows across the walls, a large chandelier over top. The table was set with an orange and red color scheme with autumn bleeding into every aspect of decoration. Even though only two would be used, eight seats had been set in nothing but false pageantry. The smell of baking turkey wafted in from the kitchen off the ways. Most of the other food had already made its place on the table, surrounding a cornucopia, reflective only in name. Six chairs, three on each side, were all tightly pushed into the table, ready for the use of no one. The spread was massive and one could wonder how only two people, the only residents of the large house, would finish it all.

Humming came from the kitchen, the voice masculine in pitch. The tune was easily recognizable as the Star Spangled Banner, which was more a feat to hum then one would expect. Some of the high notes came out scratchy and the mumbling of the lyrics did nothing to ascertain any kind of satisfying harmony. Both rooms were pleasantly warm, though the kitchen held itself in a higher regard after repeat use of the oven and stove. Light leaked out through the open windows as it bathed the rest of the house.

It was pitch dark outside and a person coming or going could see no more than fifteen feet in front of them. Not that there would be any extra guests anyways. The building was located in the middle of nowhere, a long, winding road the only gleam of civilization. At one point the property had been a farm, but after the changing of owners, its purpose drastically changed.

The deafening silence was interrupted by repeated shifting, a desperate attempt to move. This sound was picked up by the ears of the blonde in the other room. He stuck his head in the doorway, the cowlick on top denying gravity its rightful dues. His blue eyes twinkled with amusement, though you could see none of it. In fact you could see nothing at all. You couldn’t see, you couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move. All you could do was listen. The man laughed boisterously like you had just said the funniest thing in the world.

“Don’t worry!” He said, knocking on the wall in a way meant to exude comfort. “It's almost done.”

Any chance you had of escape was quickly ticking away alongside that turkey clock, and yet you could do nothing. Maybe he really was the original boy scout because his knots were flawless. Arms bound tight to a chair, any attempts at kicking did nothing to loosen the ropes tying your legs to the chair’s. Your back was flush with the chair, cord tightly wrapped around your torso. You were, in all sense of the word, stuck.

The silk material used to blind your sight was far softer than the harsh twine of the ropes. The same was used to bind your mouth. Any of the tears you had cried had long since dried, making the cloth more uncomfortable and sticky than before. What did you do to deserve this?

Time to ponder than question was quickly snatched away as the retro cooking clock sprang to life. You snapped your head towards the sound, not having prepared yourself for it. Suddenly the smell of turkey became stronger than ever before and you swore you could feel its heat as the man set it down on the table. He lit what you could only assume were candles before approaching you. You visibly shook as he gently removed the blindfold.

Blinking furiously to adjust to the light, your pupils contracted at the heavy light, causing you to shut them closed and throw your head down away from the obtrusive shine. A large hand came above you to pet the top of your head. He kneeled down on one knee, grasping your arm, which was still bound to the chair’s, and gently massaged the skin. He almost didn’t seem real, the light making him look like an angel. Then he looked back up at you, sky blue eyes piercing your own (e/c) ones. Any thoughts of a divine existence were quickly washed away as you stared deep into the possessive pools that were his oculus. The man smiled at you, wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized had fell. He licked the thumb that had made contact with the salted droplet, never breaking eye contact with you. 

He abruptly stood up, shifting his attention over to the extravagant feast on the table. He quickly piled on his own plate, seemingly stacking it sky high, before coming back over to your side and collected your piece of dishware. Moving around the table, he began to fill your own plate, though not nearly as large as his own. He placed it back down next its proper napkin, an orange maple leaf.

The man began to slice apart his pieces of turkey, clearly satisfied with how it had come out. It didn’t take him long to begin gobbling down his food like a hungry soldier on the battlefield. He talked while chewing once or twice in a way that would have made a proper British noble scoff in disgust. Though he quickly quit after he realized that he was eating like such. A look fell across his face that made you think that he might have been told off for a bad habit like that. From then on he ate properly, carefully using his utensils and always chewing with his mouth closed.

From the moment he had brought the turkey in, you had felt your mouth water. You hadn’t eaten anything all day and the food laying out before you felt torturous. You didn’t make a sound however, trying to conserve all of your energy into not bursting into another round of tears. Your stomach on the other hand, had no such qualms, and loudly made its presence known.

The blonde looked over at you, to your uneaten plate of food, and then back to you. He was about to ask why you hadn’t started eating before he realized the obvious. Gulping down the last of his diet soda, of which he had put into a glass with ice to look slightly nicer, he made his way past the table and back over to you.

All you could do was sit there, cursing your stomach and every decision that led you to this horrible fate. Standing at far over six feet, he easily towered over you, causing the shaking from earlier to come back tenfold. You must have looked like a frightened little lamb to the big bad wolf. He cupped your face in his hands, rough from years of war. By now you had begun hyperventilating, shoulders moving up and down in desperate disharmony. You tried to suck as much air as possible in but the gag in your mouth stopped most of the air flow. He reached his right hand farther up your face and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to pretend you were any place but here. Any images of tropical vacation were vanquished after he softly removed the fabric. It was soaked with hours worth of saliva and he threw it off to the side on the table.

Properly swallowing for the first time in hours, your lips finally closed. You still shook but had noticeably calmed down as he focused on your lips.

“A-Alfred.” You finally whispered. “W-Why? I don’t u-understand.”

Tears still occasionally fell down and you desperately wanted to hide your face from him with your hands, but couldn’t because of your binds. You desperately searched his eyes for some clue, a hint, anything. But there was nothing there but pure, unbridled, adoration. His face melted into a content smile and he dove in to kiss you with no prior warning.

His lips melded against yours and he furiously attacked them until you opened. The man pressed you farther against the chair, using both of his hands to keep your head in place. His tongue swirled around your mouth, traversing every cavity and frantically tried to keep your own in this cursed dance. He finally parted from you, a string of saliva connecting you until it finally snapped.

Even more tears had begun to form, all threatening to fall at the slightest motion or whisper. Alfred brushed his thumb over your soaked eyelash, clearing your vision in that eye for just a moment.

“Does that answer your question?” He placed his head in the crook of your neck, taking in the smell. “I just love you that much.”

Suddenly reminded as to why he had come over to the other side of the table, Alfred quickly pulled out an empty chair and sat next to you. He unwound the napkin and the utensils, placing all of them in the correct positionings like he had been taught to do. He then pulled the plate towards the edge of the table, carefully stabbing a piece of turkey he had cut apart with a fork.

“Say aww!” He urged, but you knew it was more of a command.

You opened your mouth, feeling completely demeaned by the nature of the situation. He couldn’t even let you use your own hands. Your chewing was slow as your mouth still hurt from the gag. Alfred didn’t seem to mind as he just fed you another piece, repeating the cycle a few more times. Finally it seemed like he had finally gotten enough out of you and stopped, only to be repeated with a different food instead. As you were chewing, he spoke adoringly to you.

“I love you (Y/n).” He said as he continued to dote on you. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

[depressedbagpipe]

"Blackbird to Robin, do you copy?" (Billy Russo x ofc)

Chapter six

Words: 5151 Warnings: mentions of the previous attack (check the last chapter for reference), mentions of PTSD, death, guns, explosions (and the aftermath i guess). poor grammar choices. change of pov, foul language, dana wants some soup. A/N: yeah, it's been a long time coming. i accidentally fell into a burning ring of fire depressive episode ft a massive writer's block but thank you for your patience and love. had to add some billy into it, too. hope you guys like it (mind you i haven't written anything in like two months so sorry for the poor grammar choices) Taglist: @badasseddy, @noortsshift, @britishbassett

Series Masterlist Previous chapter

Chapter six

I felt the thick thud of my skull before I could even register I was in pain. My skin felt warm and sticky, and although my entire head was throbbing, it especially felt like a needle was constantly poking my temple. Even with closed eyes, the ache seemed to grow every second. My entire body hurt, too, and I heavily debated whether I wanted to open my eyes, too afraid of what would wait for me on the other side. 

Muffled voices and footsteps screamed from the other side of the door, the sound too distant and distorted to fully comprehend what they said, and for an instant, I panicked.

And then, like a slap across the face, a flash of black flooded my vision, and Billy’s eyes were suddenly all I could see. The throbbing in my head grew stronger and unforgiving, and dizziness overcame me. Memory was coming back in flames, and each was more painful than the last. 

Billy. The attack. Billy’s apartment. The café. Billy’s car. My apartment. Billy’s black suits. The MET. Owen. Billy. 

Billy.

The name tasted weird on my tongue. There was bitterness in it, and fear, but also comfort and power. The mix was strangely addictive, and it weirded me out even more after realizing he was the first thing on my mind after having just woken up. 

I groaned, and although the sound was distant in my ears, mixed with the slight ringing that filled the silence around me, it was apparently loud enough for the door to burst open wide. I winced at the sudden noise, but the surprise was quickly replaced by relief when the man himself crouched next to me, unannounced. My eyes were still closed, but his scent was unmistakable. The warmth that followed, although unmistakable as well, was surprising.

‘Good night, Dana,’ he whispered. His voice was uncommonly soft, and the usual sharp edge he wore like a suit was gone. I wondered if, for a second, I had imagined it, because it seemed so foreign to him. But I couldn’t deny that I liked it.  

I believed he would have shouted, screamed, yelled at me and my irresponsibility. I thought he would just give me an earful, repeating the same speech like a mantra about safety and trusting strangers. How mad he would have looked, with his eyes sending daggers into my heart and venomous words into my brain. He would’ve repeated over and over how he had been right, and how I had been wrong, and how stupid and reckless I had been and almost had gotten myself killed because of it. 

But when I opened my eyes, I found none of that. Gone was his anger and fury. Instead, I was met with a rather compassionate face, with deep lines of worry around his eyes, and his usually-tamed hair falling flat on his head, with strands gracelessly tousled and unkempt. 

My fingers twitched slightly as if wanting to reach and fix it for him on their own. But either it hurt too much to move or I was too much a coward to do anything. So, instead, I just lay there, with eyes half-closed, a killing headache, and a nervous heart. 

‘Hi.’ My throat was hoarse and it hurt to speak. My voice sounded weak, and I fought the urge to grimace at that. I knew I was weak, and yet, I hated that. Especially in front of him.

‘You gave me –us, quite a scare the other day,’ he coughed lowly, his eyes moving across my face. His pupils seemed to mix with the irises entirely, and the darkness around us created two pools of somber black that were now analyzing every single aspect of my face. I had never felt so naked, yet so alive.

His little slip-up didn’t go unnoticed, but I was too tired to even press him on it. All I could do at the time was frown, and even the movement sent another hard thud to my head. To my dismay, Billy noticed that, and brought his warm palm against my forehead and softly rested it on the skin, careful and caring. Two things I never thought Billy Russo could be.

‘The other day?’ I asked finally after registering his words.

‘At the park.’

I sat there, looking at him. For a second I thought this illusion of Billy would fade, and the anger would come back, but it didn’t. I waited, staring at him, trying not to dwell too much on the way his hand felt on me, and kept waiting, but he didn’t move. It was only then that I spoke for him.

‘The attack.’

He nodded gravely, and I could have sworn a small sigh escaped his lips. ‘Yeah. The attack.’

I frowned again. ‘The other day?’

He took his hand off, and the sudden coolness of the air made me miss his contact, even though it felt refreshing. His existence was a complete contradiction in my head.

‘Yeah,’ yet he didn’t look me in the eye this time. His hands suddenly occupied themselves by pouring water into an empty glass on the bedside table. Recognizing the round shape of the object, I finally realized I was in my bed, back at my apartment, safe and sound.

He carefully brought it to my lips and tilted my head forward, helping me. His hand cradled the back of my head, and with one touch I was hooked. If he felt any affected by it, he didn’t show it. I almost wished he did.

The cold water soothed my aching throat, if only a little, and even though I was still tired, I couldn’t help but ask.

‘How long have I been out?’

‘Three days.’

‘What?’ the shock moved my body upwards involuntarily, but pain flashed in my eyes and my back collided with the mattress rather harshly. 

Billy helped me down again, adjusting my bed covers over me as he rechecked my head.

‘You’re fine, Dana. Just… go to sleep, alright? We’ll talk when you recover,’ he said, standing up again.

‘I thought you said I was fine,’ I couldn’t help myself. He didn’t answer, but instead rolled his eyes. He started walking away toward the door, and suddenly, the prospect of staying alone became unbearable.

‘Wait,’ I called him.

Billy was already walking out when he stopped.

‘What do you need?’

It was so casual, the way he said it. So domestic. So natural. It was scary to think that, behind all that hair gel and money, there was a man. A person. A person I now needed beside me, if only to sleep. I knew that as soon as I closed my eyes, nightmares would plague my dreams. They had been haunting me ever since I closed my eyes three days ago, but my brain refused to wake up. Now I knew they were memories. And I was desperate to make them stop.

‘Could you… stay with me? At least, until I fall asleep?’

He seemed shocked at the question, and before he could refuse, I spoke again.

‘I don’t want to be alone right now, please.’

I winced again, both at the pain and at my own embarrassment. My voice felt as weak as the rest of my body, but I hated being powerless even more in front of Billy. I didn’t know what opinion he had of me, and I didn’t know if I’d ever know, but for some reason, I didn’t want him to think of me as weak. I hadn’t known him for long, but at that moment, in that state, I just wanted, needed, a break. I needed Billy to look at me and not see the desperate and frightened girl I felt at the moment. For once, I wanted to be strong, and I had just blown that away by asking him to stay with me. 

But, thank God, Billy sighed and closed the door, leaving the two of us in the dark. His movements were measured and precise as he walked toward me and to the side of my bed, taking off his shoes and placing them by the foot of the table. He didn’t look at me and I didn’t look at him as I scooted over to make room for him. Even though the space wasn’t that big, once he lay down, we both managed to fit next to one another without touching. I almost wish we did. 

The silence was deafening. I tried to control my breathing and not move too much, knowing the second I did I’d brush Billy’s arm. My blinds had been rolled down and very little light was coming from the outside, and the thought of not being able to see Billy, despite feeling his warmth next to me, was somewhat bizarre. A battle was raging on my insides, and unfortunately, the pain in my head was the deus ex machina saving the day. Everything still hurt too much: my head, my back, my pride. And yet, Billy made no noise beside me. I wondered whether he had fallen asleep, for it sure felt like hours.

‘Billy?’

Silence.

‘Yeah?’ he finally answered.

His voice was smooth, and I instantly knew he hadn’t been asleep either. This was as awkward for him as it was for me, but he still made the effort. I appreciated that.

‘Why didn’t you take me to the hospital?’

It was probably the stupidest thing to ask, but I felt the urge to keep him talking. At least his voice was something familiar. At least his voice was anchoring me to reality, instead of letting my mind wander and losing itself again.

‘It would’ve been dangerous.’

‘What if I had died?’

‘You’re not dying on me, Dana Jones.’

‘How can you be so sure of it, Billy Russo?’

‘Because they’d have to get through me first. I’m not planning on dying any time soon.’

His words weren’t romantic by any means. They were harsh around the edges, full of implications, just like him. But I liked the way he said them. And I could always blame the raging headache for such nonsense in the morning.

I scooted an inch closer, still without making contact. I rolled on my side, facing him, even though I couldn’t see him. I even heard his faint breaths, a bit rushed and erratic. What was he nervous about?

‘Thank you.’

He took a few seconds to answer again.

‘Don’t mention it.’

‘And thank you for saving my life.’

‘Go to sleep, Dana, you need it.’

‘Alright.’

Silence. It really was awkward, to say the least. Both of us were awake, sharing a bed, and yet, no one talked. It felt like hours, although they definitely were a few minutes. My breathing slowed, and my eyes kept drooping despite my intent of having them open. I couldn’t tell whether Billy was awake or not. And just when I thought he had fallen asleep, he spoke. 

‘Goodnight, Dana.’

My lips twitched slightly, and I answered.

‘Goodnight, Billy.’

…

Waking up with a killer headache wasn’t anything new to me. Many times before I had woken up with the remainder of a hungover, with mismatched pajamas and sweaty sheets. Other times, it was a flu, or a migraine, or a simple cold. I wasn’t a sleepwalker by any means, but every night brought an adventure with it. I never knew when, where, or how I’d wake up.

That day I woke up hot, cold, and alone. Again, not my first rodeo. But after realizing the events of the previous night, I couldn’t help the wave of disappointment that flooded my senses. The other side of the bed felt oddly empty, and Billy’s scent still lingered on the pillow. It was the only clue I had that whatever had happened was real. My head still hurt, and my stomach was grumbling like crazy, and despite not having enough strength to leave my bed, I did so with a groan. 

The floor was cold under my feet, even though I was wearing pink fluffy socks that definitely did not belong to me at all. I looked around my room with a frown, but everything seemed in place. Taking a quick look at the mirror next to the door, I noticed I was wearing a new set of pink pajamas, matching the socks, as well as a clean bandage across my head and arms. It was quite a spectacle, really, but my hunger got the best of me and with a final sigh, I opened the door and walked out, knowing with every single step that life was about to get a thousand times more dangerous.

Surprisingly, I found Karen sitting by the kitchen, with a mug in her hand and bags under her eyes. Her face lit up as soon as she saw me walk in.

‘Oh, Dana, thank God you’re awake!’ she almost dropped the mug on the counter and stood in front of me. 

With tentative arms, she hugged me, and the warmth that came with it had me closing my eyes in enjoyment. It had been too long since somebody had even embraced me like that.

‘Hi,’ I said rather shy. 

We were the only ones in my apartment, and I felt grateful for that. I didn’t know what I would have said had Billy been there. 

‘How are you feeling?’ her voice was low and soft, a total contrast to Billy’s. She showed genuine care, and maybe it was the concern in her eyes or the worry in her words, but all of a sudden, tears filled my eyes and fell on their own accord.

Karen quickly hugged me even harder, rubbing my back comfortingly as I sobbed into her shoulder.

I didn’t even know what I was crying about. The attack, the shock, the way my life had crumbled in a matter of seconds since Billy showed up at the stairs of my school. The tension, the pain, the fear, all of it was now going down the drain as I let it catch up to me. I lost complete track of time; I just allowed myself to stand there and break down, and Karen’s soothing presence only encouraged me further. God knew how long had it been since I had a good cry, and now it felt like the dam had broken and all the pent-up emotion was exploding in every direction, leaving me more and more empty the longer it went. 

But it felt good. I rarely allowed myself to be vulnerable, much less in front of other people. And part of me knew that the downfall was inevitable, so I was glad I was home at least. I certainly wished the situation was different, but my sanity appreciated it nonetheless.

Only after my eyes ran out of tears I dared look up. Karen’s eyes were equally reddish but cupped my face into her hands and looked me in the eye.

‘Are you feeling better?’ she asked.

‘Yeah.’

She smiled. ‘Great.’ She led me to the couch and sat me down, checking my bandages. ‘How’s your head? Does it hurt?’

I shook my head, even though it hurt after crying so much. ‘I’ll be fine. I could use a shower, though. And food.’

She smiled. ‘That’s good. Go take a shower and I’ll make you some soup. Can you stand on your own?’

I nodded. ‘I’m just tired.’

‘Understandable. Go, I’ll be here when you get out. And, Dana,’ she stopped me as soon as I turned around to leave. ‘I’m glad you’re okay.’

I smiled, genuinely. ‘Thank you. For everything.’

She smirked and nodded at me, and I left.

I didn’t want to make the situation any more awkward, and that’s why as soon as Karen resumed to her own devices, I sprinted to the bathroom, quickly hiding there and locking the door behind me. Against better judgment, I stared at my reflection in the mirror, and couldn’t help but to grimace at the view. Not only was my hair sticking up in weird shapes and places, but I still had heavy dark circles under my eyes, my lips were chapped and dry, and the skin looked like it needed some more melanin to be deemed healthy. Shaking my head I got in the shower and didn’t leave until my fingers were pruney and begging to be dry once more. 

I rinsed my skin once, twice, until it burned. Every time I closed my eyes, memories haunted me. Flashes of red and orange danced before my eyes, followed by deafening noise and terrified yells. New York attacks were nothing new, and I had seen my fair share of violence and injustice before. But this time, I had been caught in the crossfire. It had been entirely my fault, for ignoring Billy’s orders despite promising otherwise. I knew I had always had a target on my back, but, for the first time, it felt real. As selfish as it sounds, I had been directly affected by the chaos that usually ran rampant but silent in the city. And that only angered me. Because today I had been the victim, and I had survived, but deep in my gut I knew innocent people hadn’t. And that it hadn’t been the first time, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last.

At some point during my little stream of consciousness, I heard the front door open. I didn’t need to listen further to know it was Billy. I could recognize his footsteps from a mile away. 

With a deep breath I finally got out of the shower and dressed, and, with tentative steps, I exited the bathroom. The warm water had slightly relaxed my tense muscles, and I truly felt better after laying in bed for so long, but mentally I wasn’t ready to face Billy. I wasn’t scared of him, but I didn’t want to have a reason to. 

What I wasn’t expecting was to find Billy, Frank, and Karen talking in hushed voices, with Karen close to Billy’s face and an angry frown on her face. 

‘Don’t stop on my account,’ I said, reading the room. The tension could be cut with a knife, but I was still too tired and hungry to care.

Their heads twisted in my direction, and their sudden attention had me almost trembling in my place.

Frank stood there with virtually no expression on his face, as he usually did. Karen looked relieved, although something close to resentment emanated from her eyes. And then there was Billy.

It was the first time I had truly seen him since before the attack, and, to my surprise, didn’t look any better than I did. His hair, although freshly washed, wasn’t combed in the meticulous way he usually wore it. His clothes, too, were clean, yet he hadn’t bothered to properly tuck his shirt into his pants, and the laces of his shoes were undone. His expensive blazer lay forgotten by the entrance. And his eyes… they were tired. The creases around them were more prominent, and for the first time, he looked older. I knew he was older than me, but with his cocky attitude and his perfectly-kept appearance, I always forgot. Now, he looked his age, somewhere in his thirties, and it felt like a ton of bricks just hit me in the face at the realization. 

When our eyes met, I shied away. I still felt embarrassed about the night before, and I doubted he’d go easy on me after I could stand on my own. I really didn’t want him to be right about Owen, and I didn’t want him to remember me laying frail and cold in my bed. I had the strong urge to disappear, but it was time for me to face the consequences, wherever those led. 

‘Hey.’

‘Hi,’ Billy answered. His voice left a tingling sensation in the back of my neck.

‘Are you okay, kid?’ Frank suddenly spoke. His voice, too, was smooth, contrasting greatly with his appearance. He was dressed in his usual dark attire, yet his bulletproof vest and the grip of a gun on his waist were new additions. 

I nodded carefully, not even assessing his question. I was in no way okay, but I still had my guard up around them. I wanted to be okay. I was tired of not being fine.

‘Alright, you need to eat,’ Karen interrupted the moment bringing her hands together and led me to the kitchen, where a steaming bowl of soup was waiting for me at the small table. She slid two pills together with a glass of water as I sat down. ��For the pain. Eat, and we’ll talk later.’

She gently patted my forehead, probably searching for a fever, but her hands were soft and I appreciated it nonetheless. It had been so long since anybody had taken care of me, that I didn’t mind it was a woman I had only seen a couple of times. I still didn’t face Billy, although I could feel his burning gaze on me, but thankfully Karen caught his attention and resumed their previous conversation, as I did my best to swallow and ignore the details they spilled on the other side of the room. 

My eyes closed for a few seconds as I took a big breath, hoping to find enough strength to face whatever was to come as soon as I was done eating. I looked at the clock on the wall by the entrance, and it surprised me to see it was noon. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting to find, but I welcomed the time. I still had at least half a day to get my shit together, instead of wasting another one drowning in my own misery. But that’d come later. I just wanted to eat the damn soup.

…

I wished the soup would have been endless, because now I was sitting on the couch, with the other three adults looking down at me with varying expressions and hidden emotions. It was silent for a while until Billy spoke.

‘Tell us all you remember,’ he said. Gone was the softness, and his tone reminded me of the same one he had used when we first met, back in the interrogation room at Anvil’s headquarters.

‘Well… I was with Owen…’ I stopped and cringed. I wasn’t looking at him, but Billy suddenly stood straighter when I mentioned his name. ‘And he insisted on getting an ice cream after the museum. So we were at Central Park, and… that’s when everything went to shit, I guess.’

Frank’s face was unreadable, and Karen softly nodded. ‘Alright, no brain damage. That’s good,’ she sounded quite relieved.

‘What did you last see before…’ Billy paused for a second as if it physically pained him to talk. I found it hard to believe that he actually cared about me, but I had seen weirder. ‘Before everything went to shit?’

I took a few seconds as well. ‘I mean… Everything’s kinda blurry. Not like there’s anything wrong with me, it’s just… I mean I was terrified. And things were happening so fast and… I don’t know,’ I tripped over my words.

To my surprise, Frank nodded. ‘We get it. We’ve dealt with these situations way too many times to count,’ he looked at Billy, who shared the same expression. ‘Listen, kid, things are not going to get easier from now on. PTSD is no joke, and if you ever need to talk, we know some good people that can help. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about,’ he even cracked a smile. 

It was reassuring to say the least, that these hunks of men struggled just as much, if not more, as I did. But those flashes were all I could see at the time, and it terrified me to think they’d stick with me forever. 

‘I really don’t wanna talk about it right now,’ I said, hoping to just stop their conversation. ‘I mean, I appreciate it, don’t get me wrong. But… I just want to deal with all this when I’m ready. I’m still not sure about why things are the way they are so yeah, I guess I just need time.’ 

The three of them nodded at me. I could tell there were still a thousand things they wanted to say.

‘I do, however, have questions. I don’t wanna deal with my feelings until I know who’s making me feel like this,’ I said, with a lot more confidence than I had. ‘So what actually happened? How did you find me?’

Billy’s POV – Three days earlier

‘Shit.’ 

That was the last thing I heard from the earpiece before the explosion went off. People were running and screaming all around me, making their way out of the park, as far away as they could. My legs moved involuntarily to the source of the noise, despite better judgment. Dana was there, and that’s all I cared about.

‘Robin?’ I asked, but the static on the other side answered for me.

I picked up my pace, running as fast as I could. From the periphery of my eye, I caught many police cars, as well as my own company’s vans, trespassing into the park, followed by ambulances and paramedics. It didn’t take me long to reach the Great Lawn, my breath stuck in my throat at the sight. It had been almost destroyed, the entire green field. Burnt corpses lay around, their bodies completely unrecognizable. FBI agents were already running after the surviving men, getting lost in the immensity of the park and the echoes of their gunshots.

I looked around in a panic, trying to find Dana. Many trees were burning around me, some of them on the ground after the blast.

‘Dana!’ I yelled, raising my voice over the many sirens that blared around.

I ran along the nearest path, simply guessing Dana and Owen’s possible route from the museum. Maybe fate was on my side, after all, because only a few feet away I found Dana’s body, laying on the ground, dangerously close to a fallen and scorched tree.

I immediately kneeled beside her, pulling her up into my lap, looking over her only to find not a single scratch on her clothes. Only the side of her head was bleeding slightly and seemed to be unconscious because of it, but her heart was still beating strong and steady. Some branches had fallen on her arms as well, but nothing else seemed to be out of place.

I didn’t even have time to sigh in relief. I held her close, feeling the dread of losing her wash over me as I lifted her in my arms. 

‘Blackbird, it’s Raven,’ Frank suddenly spoke in my other ear. ‘You there?’

‘Yeah,’ I struggled a bit with Dana’s weight, taking her up in my arms and running across the park, avoiding both people and debris as I followed the direction of Anvil’s medical aid. 

‘Is she okay?’ Frank asked as I approached one of the medics by the small ambulance, dropping her carefully on the stretcher. He quickly looked over her, assessing the damage to her side, and quickly cleaning it and putting some bandage over it.

‘I hope so,’ I noticed my hands were trembling, but I couldn’t dwell too much on it. 

I only cared that Dana was alright. 

Time seemed to go too slowly. Distant gunshots and explosions still resounded behind my back, but I didn’t care anymore. The cops could handle that one. My only concern was the unconscious girl in front of me.

‘She’ll be okay,’ the medic finalized. ‘Just a hit to the head, nothing too serious. She’ll probably be out for a day or so, the shock could have gotten to her. If she doesn’t wake up by the third day, take her to the hospital, they’ll know what to do. She’ll struggle with headaches and sensory overload, most probably, and make sure she has two of these once a day, preferably with a full stomach. Sorry, Mr. Russo, I gotta help the others,’ the young medic said quickly, and after dropping the bottle of pills in my hand, he ran to the next victim.

I could only sigh in relief, quickly taking Dana back in my arms and walking towards my car, making my best to avert the inquiring press and curious bystanders who had reached the park. Dana’s head lolled to the side and into my chest, revealing the earpiece, still connected. I tried my best to ignore the weight of her head in my chest, and the warmth that came with it and spread through me as I finally spotted my car. There wasn’t anybody around, thankfully, and with some difficulty, I placed her in the backseat and drove to her apartment before the police closed the surrounding streets. 

Dissociating was my best chance, for I quickly reached her apartment complex, and after a quick scan of the area, I grabbed Dana and took her upstairs. It was my bad luck that had me coming face to face with Dana’s neighbor. 

‘Mrs. Bardot! What a pleasure!’ I greeted her with a whisper. 

She naturally seemed alarmed at the sight. An unconscious girl being carried by a man.

‘What have you done to her?’ she took big strides to where I stood.

I shook my head reassuringly. ‘Fret no, Mrs. Bardot, she’s asleep. We accidentally had too much to drink earlier on and she’s a bit of a lightweight,’ I lied. 

Mrs. Bardot looked unconvinced, and I knew what I had to do. ‘My little sleeping beauty,’ I added, pressing a kiss on her temple. It came out with a lot more emotion than I originally intended, but the weirdest part was that I didn’t feel like I was lying. Not this time.

Dana didn’t stir, and although that preoccupied me, I didn’t let Mrs. Bardot see that. She quickly smiled at the gesture and offered to help me open the door.

‘You two make such a lovely couple. Take care of her, Billy, she deserves it,’ she said as I walked into the apartment. She glared at me for a second before bidding me a good night, and closed the door, effectively leaving Dana and me back in the silence of her apartment. 

With a final sigh, I walked to Dana’s room and placed her on the bed. I even took a second to look at her, finding myself wishing the circumstances were different. I fought the strong impulse of tucking her hair behind her ear but reached her nevertheless to take the earpiece off.

My fingers still trembled slightly when I reached for my phone, quickly pressing the ‘call’ button.

‘Karen? I need your help.’

Next chapter

General Taglist: @angiewhoohooo, @azaleaniath, @mishaandthebrits, @celestialcharles, @idohknow

[leoandraphssoulmate]

Warning!!!

You read at your own risk! 

I can’t possibly predict what may or may not trigger you!

So, with that being said, READ RESPONSIBLY! If something triggers you, STOP READING!

Also, if you’re a minor, and you continue reading, that falls squarely on you! I don’t work for Tumblr and refuse to stalk every single profile on here to see if you are in fact over 18!! 

I write for myself. If you like what you read, give it a like and a reblogg! No pressure! It just helps get the word out! 

Thanks for stopping by!

FLUX

Chapter 4

Star

Side Note: From this point on, FLUX will be written in different POV’s. I will title each chapter accordingly, so that you know who’s speaking when I use the first person perspective! 

Time. 

It isn’t promised. 

Sure, it keeps ticking, long after you're gone.

But it’s only a part of the beat.

It can be the bass, or it can be a tweet. 

It’s not sweet. It’s not mean.

And lord knows you can’t be in between. 

It sees nothing and it knows no one. 

Yet, it ravages you as though you are someone. 

A member of the tribe.

A flash of light.

Uncommonly dark or substantially bright.

In the end, time is always right. 

All I could do was breathe and stare down at my hands as I sat on a very worn couch, my eyes tracing over my fingers and down along the edges of my hands to my wrists. To use the term shell shocked would be putting it lightly.

I smirked to myself. Heh. Shell shocked.

Fuck. I silently swore to myself. If I was still human, my heart would have surely exploded by now! I was like them, yet something much more. I could feel a strange swell inside me. Like a power that had yet to emerge from its hiding place. 

I closed my eyes, trying to remember anything that happened before I found myself in front of Macy’s. I kept hearing what I thought was a male’s voice, niggling at the back of my mind, but I couldn’t quite seem to….

“What was it like, Star?” Mikey asked, invading my thoughts as he flopped down next to me, a wide grin on his handsome green face, sky blue eyes genuinely curious. 

“Yeah! What was it like?” Donatello crossed his arms over his upper plastron, curiosity also glistening in his hazel eyes. 

I blinked a few times, a shiver running through me as I recalled the quazi dream I had just before the portal spit me out into New York. Ugh! 

New York!

 “Unnerving?” I offered, not really sure what else to say as my hands now gripped my furry knees. I looked up at Donnie and he frowned slightly.

“Did you create the portal?” He asked, eye ridges raising. “Or did it just appear? If it just appeared, why then did you blindly walk through it?” His eyes darkened slightly.

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. I had clearly mistook the curiosity in his eyes for suspicion. 

“Why don’t we save the third degree for after she’s had a chance to catch her bearings, Donnie?” Leo said as he came around the couch, setting a cup of tea down on the coffee table in front of me. 

“The third degree?” Donnie huffed. “Leo, don’t you think it’s a little strange that the woman you’ve been dreaming of for months suddenly appears in New York, through a portal I might add, then somehow finds her way to our lair?”

Feeling suddenly small, I wrapped my arms around my waist, gripping the tip of my tail. 

“If anyone’s going to be asking her anything, it’s me!” Leo half shouted, his eyes narrowing. Donnie inclined his head, then turned to walk away.

“Yo, Fearless! Chill out!” Raph said as he walked up behind me.

I swallowed, harder this time. Both Mikey and I looked from Leo to Donnie as I leaned forward, reaching for my cup of tea. The heat felt good in my hands as I brought the cup to my lips. 

Almost instantly, my body seemed to uncoil as the golden fluid made its way to my stomach. I smiled, hugging the warm cup to my chest. “Thank you, Leo.” 

Leo pulled his gaze from Donnie, looking back down at me, his blue eyes fierce. “You’re welcome.” He said softly, his gaze shifting to Raph as he came to stand in front of us.

“What’s with Don all tha sudden?” Raph asked as he picked up a random magazine from the corner of the table, then began lazily flipping through it. “It’s not like him ta be tha one ta start a fight.”

“I’m not sure.” Leo breathed as he sat down on the other side of me. “But tell me to chill again and you and I are going to have an issue.”

The body heat from both Mikey and Leo was almost too much. I never imagined that two males could ever be this warm. My eyes widened with a sudden realization. Or maybe it was the tea? “Um, Leo?” 

“Yeah?” 

“What kind of tea is this?” I held the cup out slightly. 

Leo smirked. “A special kind.” 

“A special kind?” My ears twitched as I sat forward, my head swimming slightly.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t drug you if that’s what you’re worried about.” He smirked.

God I could stare at him for hours.

“I just gave you something to help you relax. You’ve been through alot in the past two hours.”

I nodded silently. He was right. Of course he was right. Giving in, I leaned back against the couch, resting the cup on my chest.

“Speaking of which, how long had you been here, in New York, before you sought out the lair?” He asked softly, his hand gently settling on my right knee. 

I swallowed, his skin finding mine just beneath my fur, burning oh so deliciously. “Not long.” I leaned forward, setting my cup down on the table, deciding I no longer needing its warmth. I felt ready and able to answer any and all of his questions. 

Leo leaned towards me slightly, his lips parting to ask another question, but Donnie interrupted him.  

“Star?!” Donnie shouted, making me jump, as he made his way towards us with his tablet. “Which Macy’s did you appear in front of again?” Leo started to say something, but Donnie quickly showed him his tablet, causing Leo to take in a sharp breath. 

“Please.” Donnie’s face softened as he then showed me what Leo had seen. “I’m sorry for being so insensitive before, but this is important.”

I stared at the information in front of me, my mind pulling a complete blank as my eyes trailed over the gray and black graph. “What is that?”

“Magnetic readings. Very strong ones!” He pointed to several green and yellow graphs just below the darker ones I had been staring at. “Stronger than any I’ve ever recorded. I don’t think your portal closed all the way, Star.”

“Dude!” Mikey tried to look at the tablet, but Donnie quickly pulled it away. 

“What does this mean?” I looked from Leo to Donnie, my heart hammering against my ribcage. 

“If you are in fact its creator, and we can’t get it closed, it can pull you back at any time. Ripping you from this reality.” He looked down for a second, then turned his hazel eyes back to me. “And possibly not taking you back to where you’re from.”

“Wha- “ I didn’t want to be taken away! I wanted to stay here! I wanted to be with- 

Oh god! My throat tightened just as Leo grabbed my hand as he simultaneously put a finger under my chin. 

“We’ll figure this out. I promise. We just found one another! I’m not about to lose you now.” His ocean blue eyes darkened as he looked up at Donnie. “Let’s let Donnie run some tests and maybe he can help you figure out how to close it. Permanently.”

“I think you guys have bigger things to worry about!”

Raph and I slowly turned our heads to see a woman walking towards us, wearing a dark blue tank top that revealed a chinese dragon tattoo on her left upper arm. Her blue eyes skimmed over me just before they locked on Leo.

“The lair’s been compromised.”

“Compromised? How?!” Leo said, instantly standing. 

“Huh?” Mikey and Raph said in unison. 

Donnie quickly swiped through his tablet, his eye ridges raising. “Yeah! How? My system hasn’t-” 

“Is it them?” Raph asked.

“Casey can tell you more once he gets here,” April snapped, “but we need to get you guys out of here. Now!” 

“April, where are we gonna go?” Leo asked, holding his left hand out to me. 

April smirked. “Who’s the new recruit?” 

“April, this is Star.” Leo huffed, pulling me up from the couch. “Star, this is April.”

“Detective April, but yeah.” She tucked a few strands of her long dark hair behind her right ear. 

“And one of tha best detectives!” Raph interjected. 

April’s eyes glittered as her cheeks turned a deep pink. “Thanks, Red.”

“How long do we have, April?” Donnie asked, reattaching his tablet to his arm. 

She squinted slightly. “I’d say no more than an hour.”

“Alright, let’s pack it up!” Leo ordered. “Raph, get Master Splinter and whatever he wants to bring with him.” Raph was in motion before Leo was finished telling him what to do. “Donnie, only take what you need! We don’t have a whole lot of room in the van!” 

“On it! Besides,” he shrugged, “I can just find what I need later.”

Leo tucked me into his side as he turned to Mikey. “Same goes for you, Mike. Only what you need.”

“I kinda figured.” He pouted as he headed for what I assumed was his room. 

“What about you?” I asked, looking up at him.  What the hell is going on?

“I have what I need.” He said, gently squeezing me.

My whole body instantly melted. I was a sheer puddle for this man. 

“As for your earlier question, Casey said that his grandparents own a cabin about forty minutes from here.” April’s left eyebrow raised. “He texted me the directions in case he couldn’t make it here in time.” She held her phone out to Leo and he took it. 

“If they found us here, then they’ll find us there too, April.” Leo huffed, studying the map. “We can’t keep running from this.” 

“That’s true, but I also know that you guys aren’t ready to face them. Not yet.” April frowned as Leo gave her phone back. “And I know Casey damn sure isn’t ready.”

“Who?” I asked, an unfamiliar burn making its way up my middle. Who could possibly be after them? Shredder?

Leo sighed. “I’ll explain everything once we’re safe. I'm sorry this is happening just when we found one another."

“April!” Donnie shouted as he came back with a bag loaded with tech slung over his shoulder. “Do you think a huge magnetic signature had anything to do with them being able to locate us?”

“What magnetic signature?”

Donnie’s eyes landed on me and April’s widened as it dawned on her. “Um, yeah! I’d say so.”

Well shit.

@thelaundrybitch @wynndigogh

[bloxfruitsvalues]

Bomb Blox Fruit Value

About Bomb Blox Fruit

The Bomb is a common natural-type fruit released on January 16th, 2019. It was introduced in the first-ever update of the game. The Bomb Blox Fruit value is 80,000 Beli or 220 Robux from the Dealer. This makes it known as a cheap fruit. While other fruits have lower price tags, this one has unique features. These features make it quite useful for players focused on getting ahead early in the game.

Pros & Cons

Pros Using Bomb Blox Fruit

Great Damage Output: Still being an uncommonly seen choice, Bomb does a good amount of damage. Instant Breaker: Each move has Instinct broken by bomb which is a strategic advantage during fights. Huge AoE: The majority of Bomb’s moves have large AoEs and high knockbacks ideal for PvP environments. Low Cost: The fruit is priced low so that newbies could have access to it.

Cons Using Bomb Blox Fruit

No Long Range Moves: With no long range attacks, its versatility is hampered. Long Startups: The moves have long startups making them very predictable and counterable. Immobilize: Users are unable to move while holding down a move allowing opponents to attack them easily. Poor Mobility: Despite providing some sort of dash via its X move (Bomb Grab), it hardly adds up as mobility. Hard Mastery Requirement: It requires slightly more mastery than other common fruits which makes it less desirable among newer players.

Bomb Blox Fruit Value

Physically, Bomb costs 80,000 (80 Thousand) beli from the Blox Fruit Dealer. The market fair valuations give it 90,000 (90 Thousand) beli. There is not much physical demand for Bomb, which affects its rating. It receives only 2 out of 10 as a rating, decreasing its popularity and usage. Bomb's physical value is quite low, and its market presence is comparatively weak. This renders it an affordable yet less popular item. However, the permanent price for Bomb is much higher. It costs 1,500,000 (1.5 million) beli if bought permanently. The permanent demand is only slightly better than the physical one. It is rated 3 out of 10 in this aspect. Like its physical counterpart, the permanent value trend has also been decreasing. This suggests Bomb may be a good investment for longtime players. However, its market value might not remain stable over time.

Final Words

To sum up, in the first update since the game's inception, "the Bomb Blox Fruit" has both positives and negatives. Good damage output and strategic PvP abilities make this fruit stand apart from others. However, its lack of mobility and long-ranged attacks hinders performance. Bomb’s physical value is relatively low and declining, meaning it is cheap but less wanted by gamers. In terms of permanent value, this indicator turns out to be much higher, although there is still a decline noted over time. The decision to invest in Bomb Fruit will depend on an individual's play strategy and stage in the game. Read the full article

[bloodtwin]

            WHEN   IT   WAS   CLEAR    that she wanted to be close to him, wanted him to kiss her, Puck used more force to pull her flush against his body. Still not nearly as aggressive as he normally would do, but it was confident & firm in comparison to the tentative question he had posed with the movement before. 

His kiss was uncommonly gentle but not shy. It lingered, taking its time so that Puck could savor the taste. Upon withdrawing, he nuzzled their noses together before leaving a light peck on the tip of hers. 

            ❝ I love you, ❞ he repeated, voice a warm whisper. It almost startled him how easily he could say it now, after years of being afraid of the word. 

Then he remembered the reason he had needed to say it at all. His posture shifted, becoming something much more sheepish. His tail flicked in anxious agitation. 

            ❝ So, ❞ He cleared his throat, face slightly pink. ❝ About the proposal . . .  Shall I . . .  try again later . . .   ？❞

THE WAY HE MELTED UNDER HER SOFT TOUCHES made her swear to herself silently that she would try harder to be a better lover. They liked being rough - but that didn't mean they always had to be rough with each other. They could be soft too, soft and loving.

When he pulled her closer, she didn't resist. She had no reason to, and didn't want to. She wanted to be as close to him as possible, always and forever - she hoped that was obvious to him. She hoped he understood just how much he meant to her.

"Mhm, of course," she murmured softly, tilting her head to look up at him more clearly and so he could kiss her if he so desired.

"Always," she reminded him, smiling brightly, fangs and all.

She still had a long way to go before being used to such soft and intimate moments, given the flush on her cheeks and the tips of her ears. But she didn't care. It was worth it for this, for him, for their relationship. Even if she never got used to it, she didn't care.

[windsweptinred]

Sir Robert Gadling, Champion of Earth

It was a rare thing, for someone of his somewhat, irregular age bracket to experience what could truly be defined as a new sight.

But Dream of the Endless, sprawled belly down on the grassy land that lay between the New Inn and the river bank. Dark coat, draped about him like great, dark moth wings. Ear to the earth, cheek settled gently against buttercups and dandelion clocks. Smiling serenely to himself. That was definitely a first.

Leaving the door to the pubs main entrance ajar and depositing the outdoor menu board on route. Hob sauntered over to the prostrate Endless, bending low at the waist to meet two blue eyes. Peaking out from behind a rather monstrous sprout of daisies.

"Taking a nap in the sun, Duck?"

Dream regarded him momentarily before rolling onto his back. His ebony mane a wash with errant leaves and wild flower petals.

"I was listening."

Kneeling at his side, Hob swept a stray dandelion seed from his cheek, smiling indulgently.

"Ah, communing with nature is it?"

Recieving nought but a small, mischievous smirk in answer, he huffed a laugh. Flopping down onto the grass to mirror his partner.

"Alright, keep your secrets. You great, silly creature."

Turing on his side, head rested on his palm, he reached out, idly stroking the under side of Dream's chin. Watching his lover extend the pale collum of his neck in pleasure. Feeling a purr of gratification rumble down the lithe body. Great creature indeed.

"Since you're here, I've been thinking. About what we talked about when we last met. About some humans, being... What was the word you used? Marked? Yes, marked for an specific Endless. Well, if I'm Death's because of... Well you know. Or Desire's or whoever. I wonder if they'd be up for swapsies? I'm not much of a wordsmith, I know. But if there's any cosmic entity I have to swear my allegiance to, I'd want no other monarch then you love."

Dream regarded him silently for a moment, before capturing his free hand, pressing a reverent kiss to the mount of venus.

" You are not, nor shall ever be bound to either myself, nor any of my siblings. Though you have thrived uncommonly in each of our realms. You owe fealty to a much kinder sovereign. "

Hob balked at that.

"Who, God? Because quite frankly no thank you! The few centuries worth of confesssional catch up alone is horrifying to consider!"

Stars flared in his companion eyes as he graced him with an amused look.

"They do indeed have their chosen. Those saints and prophets who serve them in life and are called in death to the Heavens. But no... "

Dream took his hand, placing it lightly upon the ground, so to not crush the shards of grass beneath. Then, placed his own atop, entwining their fingers, pushing their nails and fingertips slightly into the soil below.

"She who has laid claim to you, sits here, beside you, beneath and above you. There are few beings who have walked her lands as long as you, and have resisted the lure of the occult. You remain as human, as earth born as when your lady mother bore you. And you are loved for it. Robert Gadling, meet she who has been called Tonantzin, Hou Tu, Bhuma. Third child of Via Lactea. By the ancient lore of these lands, she is Danu. But perhaps you would recognise her as Gaea or Terra. The Great Lady Mother Earth."

He felt it then, the ground around him, bracketing his body, as if being craddelled protectively in the palm of a hand. The pulsing in the sway of the blooms, in each ripple of the river. Like breathing or the drum of ancient heartbreat. The knowledge of a mother's eyes upon you while you play. The assurance of her protective gaze.

"She has kept you sheltered under her branches when you lacked hearth and home. She has granted you food and water when human hands denied you them. She has kept the water below you calm and the soil underfoot steady. Even now, she keeps my younger siblings from nipping at your heals. In return you have asked for no more from her then what was needed. And conitue to honour and protect her. You have earned her favour above 8 billion of your brothers and sisters Sir Gadling. Not a meger feat."

Humbled by the magnitude of it, Hob lowered his forhead to the ground. His temple brushed the fine root of ancient tree that grew within the grounds. Like a supplicant, he thought. At his he's queen's feet.

" At your service, my lady."

A gentle breath of air blew down upon him, like a whispered blessing. In the distance, he vaguely could make out the water of the river, churning in joyus waves upon the bank.

Beside him, Dream gracefully rose to his knees. An evident expression of pride in his gaze as he regarded Hob.

"I will leave you to get better acquainted."

Leaning forward, he placed a tender kiss into Hob's hair.

"Farewell my Heart."

Angling his head, Hob dove forward, capturing a tender, shared kiss. Nuzzling their noses together playfully.

"Goodbye Dove"

At that, his lover rose to his feet, Righting his coat with a dramatic flared sweep.

"My Lady" He swept into a courtly bow, directed at a clump of dock leaves. "I thank you for you continued care of my most beloved. May you have sweet dreams of Sols warm rays."

At his feet, plumes of wild poppies of red, orange and yellow blossomed, earning a rare, glowing smile from the Master of the Dreaming. With a final nod to Hob, Dream turned and took his leave.

Watching his lover deapart, Hob crawled, quietly forward , whispering conspiratorially into the head of a fox glove.

"If I may ask a humble boon? Watch over him too, when you are able."

As Dream passed by the tree, a low hanging branch, unfurled, reaching out. Folliage sweeping his cheek in a tender caress, which he instinctively leaned into. Hob wondered when, if ever Dream of the Endless had known a maternal embrace. To his right, a tree root flexed and groaned, causing the ivy vines coiled about it to violently twang with a rip cord snap.

"Not a fan of them either ey? " He patted the ground beside him. "Well, he's got us now."

Flopping once more onto his back, head cushions by arms. Hob Gadling smirked daringly at the clouds above.

"So, which climate destroying, corporate dragon would you like me to slay first My Lady? My sword is yours."

[goldfinwrites]

Something had changed about Mahiru. He avoided questions about his extended absence, often citing a family emergency. Mahiru always stayed vague and never gave any more details, even when his classmates had tried to press for more information. His normal smile had a closed-off edge to it when questioned (like if he didn’t keep his guard up, something would crawl out from between his teeth).

Something had changed about Mahiru. He had begun to wear the wristband from Sakuya, which was worn-down and slightly frayed in patches, as if it had been used for years instead of a few short months. Several of his shirts had stitches in strange places, even along his back or down the sleeve (and sometimes there was a shallow scar that lined up with the neat repairs). His short hair had gotten longer than usual, making him look a little like the lanky, dark haired guy who sometimes met him at the school gate, not uncommonly with a crow or two fluttering around.

Something had changed about Mahiru. He checked in more often on his friends, asking them how they were doing (and when they answered, his gaze was always fixed on them, as if he could see through to something deep in their core). He walked faster, his steps even outpacing Koyuki, and he sometimes twisted his head to look behind him, even after his friends had caught up.

Something had changed about Mahiru. He felt somehow even more reliable than before, as if he could not only finish sewing the costumes for the school festival, but also knit together broken friendships. His normal mantra of dependability had a new tone to it, almost resolute (and it sometimes felt like Mahiru’s words carried the sound of creaking wood being crushed under a burden it wasn’t meant to bear).

Something had changed about Mahiru. Nobody could put their finger on it, but this Mahiru felt like an unfamiliar version of himself, though not fully a stranger. As if they were looking at a Mahiru from the future, or one that had lived a lifetime once already. His warm, reliable frame now felt just out of reach, almost as if one day he could just vanish into some other world and never be seen again.

Part 2

[mokutone]

page 1 || page 2 || page 3 || page 4 (the end!)

(Image Description under readmore)

[ID:

A traditionally inked, digitally colored comic page, rendered mostly in desaturated shades of purple.

Kakashi is lying in his hospital bed, head turned to the side, looking in Tenzō's direction through an exhausted eye. "I'm sorry," he says.

Tenzō turns slightly towards him, and takes a long, thoughtful pause before replying "I don't know why you're apologizing."

"Did you at least go back to the barracks to rest?" Kakashi asks. Again, Tenzō takes a long time to respond. When he finally says "Yes." The word is uncommonly small inside his blocky speech balloon. The view of the comic is raising to the higher parts of the room, showing only the top of Tenzō's head, and the cellar-style windows. At the window above Kakashi's bed, there's something small and green in the corner.

"Liar." Kakashi accuses. "I did go back!" Tenzō says. "Just...briefly." The cellar-style window above Kakashi's bed is in full view now, and its clear that the green is fabric, which ends over tan skin.

The final panel is bright and warm, afternoon sun casting shadows that reflect the blue of the sky in an somewhat unkempt alley. Crouched on weedy cobblestones in the shadow of a dumpster, and above a small pit in the wall is Might Gai. His lips are pursed and his brow is troubled as he listens to Kakashi end the conversation. "Go home and get some sleep, Tenzō. The Hokage is bound to put us on rumor duty anyway," Kakashi says in more confident, if still wavering speech balloons that drift out of that small pit in the wall, where the cellar window must lead.

/END ID]

[deathweaved]

Were one to navigate its pathways as an ordinary city, Acherus was certain to be not only senseless but also mortally dangerous. Cities are built for the living, after all; and the stronghold had been made with its undead denizens in mind. If the Undercity would pose a challenge for ordinary people, fewer still would be capable of venturing into the Ebon Hold without proper guidance — but Koltira remembers halls and corridors nearly as well as if he had wandered them his entire life.

The two of them fall into step easily (always had; from the moment his heart stilled, at Thassarian's own blade, seldom had they been apart for long, much before freedom allowed them to choose proximity or devotion completely). Koltira appreciates it in its simplicity: all that is familiar and welcome in it, even alongside all that is daunting in readjusting, made far less overwhelming by having the silent support of Thassarian throughout it.

The corner of his mouth lifts in a subtle smile, the minimal touch so keenly felt, the admission so earnest. "You have always been prone to going through too much trouble for my sake, Thassarian," He admits, the slight shift in his long ears indicative of a degree of self-consciousness; Koltira tries not to be too bothered, knowing he would ever have done the same, were their roles reversed. His grip tightens slightly on Thassarian's hand (cold, still, the both of them; there is no warmth in the gesture but that of its meaning), more loving and grateful than perhaps other pieces of his demeanor show clearly.

Bloodmist is not prone to noise, silent as befitting a beast dead and returned; this time, however, his restlessness can be heard before Koltira's eyes find him. The immutability of certain things brings with it a comfort, one more thing just the same, as if he never left.

No hesitation can be seen in his approach; he needs not to fear the deathcharger, having long conquered his place when sealing their bond. Koltira releases Thassarian's hand, reaching for the thalassian steed, touching just beneath the smaller horn upon its forehead. The contact is made silently, a greeting without words received eagerly, the horse's head bumping into his hand, icy breath felt upon his hand. "I hope you didn't make things too difficult for Thass while I wasn't here," He speaks in Thalassian out of habit, one more display of sentimentality (the language they had both heard so often in life, one so uncommonly spoken here, when myriad people with just as varied backgrounds composed their brotherhood in death). "I'm sorry I have been away for such a long time."

"And hello to you as well, Dusk," He glances at the deathcharger beside Bloodmist, familiar as she would inevitably be, companion to Thassarian that she is. It catches him by surprise, in part, the pleasant feeling of the reunion, to have returned things he could not before realize he had missed. Turning to his beloved once more, Koltira speaks of gratitude, though it is far more than that he feels. The care demonstrated in the gesture is not small; and maybe one day he will get used to it, to having love so unapologetically directed at him in all its various forms, but now it still brings a glimpse of bewilderment, that it can happen, that it does. "Thank you for keeping him in good company."

"None of you will be deprived of my company any longer if I can help it," As it had always been the case, true enough, though there is a particular fierceness in determination shown after recent return, when the realization of all he has still feels so very fresh. A pause, silent as he patted the horse's muzzle, before letting go. "You know," Quiet reflection is soon broken, careful not only of his wounds but of the anger the subject may incite. Thassarian feels it much more deeply than he does; Koltira believes he knows the reason for it now - he can see the sense in the Dark Lady's decision, ruthless though it may be. "When Sylvanas imprisoned me, she wanted to ensure my feelings would not get in the way of my loyalty - to her, mostly, but to the Forsaken and the Horde."

More than simple fondness, there is a seriousness in frost blue gaze that, despite coloring, is not icy in the slightest as it settles upon the other knight. "She wasn't wrong. I would never be entirely loyal to them while you stood across the battlefield." She had to demand my loyalty, to try and force it with a leash, because it would always be yours first.

Koltira’s pleasure in the news is Thassarian’s own, as well, for the simple fact that he could provide such a thing to him in the first place. It brings him no small happiness to see curiosity turn to understanding, and understanding to a smile. Just as sweet, to feel it pressed against the back of his hand once more. It soothed some still-aggravated part of him, still furious on Koltira’s behalf even when Koltira himself seemed far more percipient about his time in the Undercity. He supposed it was a symptom of loving him so fiercely, and one he had no intention of doing away with. It had brought him back here, back to Acherus, back to Thassarian.

It had kept Bloodmist among the unliving, as well. Thassarian knew the Forsaken would have no luck breaking the beast, and being that they never seemed to be in a diplomatic mood, at least not at the time, there was only one fate for the courser in their hands. Plenty could be said about the Scourge’s methods that which forged them, but the bonds between rider and deathcharger were irrevocable. The creatures were often dangerous, and always temperamental, and could not be cowed, only “tamed” by a show of indomitable will — and only tamed once. As soon a connection was made with a knight, they would seldom listen to another. Bloodmist in particular was… a challenging specimen. The lichfire in his veins had not exactly quelled the volatile nature innate to the deceptively elegant thalassian steeds, and had Thassarian not been so close with his master, had he not spent many an hour at his side with Dusk, he doubted he would have been capable of taking control of him long enough to return him to the Ebon Hold. As it was, he was endlessly fond of the charger, and wouldn’t have had it any other way. Each day Koltira could not, Thassarian did not falter in caring for him, treating him as his own. Dusk did not go for a run without Bloodmist kicking up hoarfrost beside her; she did not rear up in battle and know the Ebon Blade’s conquest without him near, head lowered and shoulders squared to charge. It had never been in question.

Even so, just as Koltira’s absence could not be filled by any other thing in Thassarian, Bloodmist felt the loss of his rider. There were days he would become unmanageable. Perhaps he had been grieving. It never frustrated Thassarian. How could it, when he understood so acutely?

“I fear he would put his horn to use and gore me if I kept you from him a moment longer, Koltira.” He smiles. He is in agreement — and he certainly has no intent of straying from his companion, especially not so soon after regaining his presence at his side. He knew, in a way that he always understood Koltira without needing it spoken, that some things were overwhelming. Being home again, after so long. Calling it home at all. Thassarian could not envision leaving him to navigate this new reality on his own for even a second. Besides, he was sure Dusk should want to see Koltira again, as well. They had spent as much time together as Thassarian had with Bloodmist before Koltira’s capture, being that the two knights were nearly inseparable even within the Scourge.

The stables were lower; closer to Acherus’ underbelly. When it became apparent the necropolis would not linger forever over the plaguelands, her riders had been plenty ready to house their vicious mounts within the halls, and Bloodmist and Dusk were no exception. The serpentine passages of the floating city of the dead were all but unnavigable to a living person, stacked on top of one another and lit only by cerulean flame in dim, cobwebbed corners. Fortunately, neither Thassarian nor Koltira were alive. He enjoys the walk at his side. It feels natural, as natural as something can feel for a being so in contradiction to the correct order of things.

“I could not stand to leave him,” he admits, brushing his thumb over Koltira’s. I could not stand to lose another piece of you.

[tu-sugar-mami]

Tales of the side of the road: Day #1)

You're an overworked, sleep deprived, tired barista at a pretty strange coffee shop. You don't really complain, since the payment is good and you have a lot of free time, with the shop being pretty much empty and customers walking in only once in a while. The place is big, well equipped, somehow there's wifi, and you love doing what you do even if sometimes you wish you could go home. You could say the building is placed in the middle of nowhere, in a road connecting two barely populated and pretty hidden towns. The only other building anywhere in a few miles is the convenience store, an old and beaten up OxxO across the street, the cashier doesn't speak much though.

The owner is a bit... how to say it? Cryptic, to put it slightly, but that doesn't bother you at all, you barely see them, and now that you think of it perhaps the only time you spoke to them is when you were hired.

You've seen your fair share of weird stuff in three years of working here, and you even made friends with the local cult, although with a rocky start when they tried to sacrifice you to their deity. It turned out for the best, since you gained regulars that always came in with the freshest gossip. And yes, you may have gotten a small curse because of the first encounter, but hey, being occasionally possessed by a dark goddess do come handy when one of the diverse side effects is super strength and you have to lift heavy boxes of ingredients for the drinks. Because, let me tell you, the drinks you make are not regular stuff.

You specialize in a very complex form of beverages, with basic color code names, but with a flawless, delicious, magnificent taste. At least to those who are meant for.

You see, customers here are very unique, and many have tried to eat you several times before you made it clear that you were not on the menu. They learned to not underestimate your skills manouvering a broom.

Anyway, today is a specially slow day. Not even Gary —a cultist of the highest ranks, who loves his double shot 'blue' coffee— has passed by yet and you can't help but wonder what or who held him back. Though your inquiry doesn't last long, when you hear voices outside and the approach of hurried steps.

It's almost nightfall and it starts to get chilly when you get ready for yet another endless night shift. You find it odd that other people aside from Gary would swing by the shop at this hour, but well, it is your job to serve them after all, and so you tighten your apron and ready your notepad.

Like i've said before you've seen a lot of not so ordinary stuff, and when an uncommonly tall —and absolutely gorgeous— lady along with three younger, shorter women wearing at least 10 layers of cozy clothes walk in you're absolutely unfazed and instead welcome them with the brightest smile you can muster.

"Hi! Welcome to Itsy Bitchy Spider, home of the best coffee in all 24 miles around. What can i get for you today?" You say, bringing the women's attention to you.

The tall lady seems a little thrown off by your warm welcoming. Or by the weird name of the franchise, or perhaps because she wasn't expecting a fragile-looking human to be behind the counter, who knows, but she usher one of the younger girls —a brunette one, who wears a creepy but charming smile peeking from under a thick scarf— towards the counter and clears her throat. "Hello, yes, my daughter got into a little bit of a situation earlier and she has to clean herself up. We're on our way to a very important meeting and she has to be presentable."

It's only now when you notice that said daughter has bloodied clothes, and when she lifts her head you can see that there's blood dripping from her chin too. But again, not the weirdest.

"Sure ma'am," You say with a smile, wich has her giving you a curious look. "the bathroom is on that black door over there." You point and the girl goes on her way, almost skipping. Kind of adorable, you think, like a small child would be, except much older and dangerous. "So, is the cult holding a meeting? That'd explain why Gary hasn't come by." You say casually. The woman is about to answer when another uh, you suppose is a daughter too, suddenly points at the pastries countertop.

"What's that?" A redhead girl asks. She looks excited and genuinely curious about a colorful piece of a cake. You don't make them, and honestly you don't want to know what's in them, but you know they're suitable for any kind of customer that walks in, so you pull out a piece and arrange it on a plate, decorating it with red syrup, the red syrup.

"Try it, it's on the house." You wink at her while sliding the plate towards her and she looks at you like you just handed her a priceless jewel.

"Really?" She says, but is more a formality since she's already pulling the plate closer. "Look Bela! Look what i got!"

"No, Daniela you shouldn't eat that. Your tummy will hurt, you know this." The tall lady says as she grabs the plate and pull it out of Daniela's grasp, which is easy given her height. "We're sorry, but we can't take this. We have a very strict diet." She hands the plate back to you.

You smile and gently take the plate away, aware of the sad puppy eyes the redhead is giving you. You discreetly, almost as if it wasn't your intention, you put the plate within her reach and keep talking. You pretend not to notice when the girl sneakily grabs the plate and runs back to her sister to share her prize.

"Ma'am, i assure you it is perfectly safe. You're not from around here, are you? Well, let me get you acquainted with the place." Not wasting any time you quickly prepare a concoction of 'red' coffee and top it with regular whipped cream while the lady's gaze is fixed on every move. "Here, try this."

"Try what?" The dark haired girl has returned from the bathroom all freshened up and looks curiously to the tall glass you slide on the counter. "Oooh, that looks nice!"

"It is nice. It's one of the house's specials. We call it 'red coffee' though it's up to you discover if you like it."

"Cassandra, i don't think we should..." The lady seems hesitant, but when you rise the glass as close as you can to her face and she takes a whiff you can clearly see her pupils dilate. "What... is that?" She asks, breathless, as if she's just found something she craved for so long and didn't even know it.

You smirk, knowing that you guessed correctly about what would work on her. "Why don't you take a sip and find out?"

"Mother, i think you should give it a try." The blonde girl, the one who hadn't said a word since she first entered says. You notice that there's some cake frosting right on the corner of her smiling lips.

"Perhaps i should listen to you, Bela. Let's see, shall we?" The mother takes the glass from your hand, tiny in comparasion to hers, and she guides the brim of the cup to her red lips. She cautiously takes a sip and as soon as the liquid touches her tongue and she tastes, the drink is downed in seconds.

"So, what's the veredict? You like it?" You say as you put the lid on the last of another three cups of the same drink that you finished making while the cup on the lady's hand was being emptied, ready to hand over to the girls.

"It's exquisite..." She says, and you can see the awe on her face. "How?"

"Well, that's a secret, isn't it? You can come by whenever you like, we're open all day, every day." You look behind the four women and spot a grumpy looking man wearing sunglasses and a hat just outside in the parking lot. Odd when there's no sunlight to protect his eyes from, but you don't judge. "Looks like someone is looking for you." You point past them to the guy.

And sure enough:

"Alcina! Where the fuck are you? Miranda is waiting for us, we're late!"

The annoyed expression on the lady's —Alcina, now you know— face almost make you laugh, but you don't want to be disrespectful and instead you just cough a little. "Looks like we have to part ways." She says, putting the glass on the counter delicately. Her eyes are glued to your own and you can see fire in them. "For now."

The lady turns around and walks away with determination and elegance in her stride and behind her the daughters follow with the grace of young gazelles. One of them, the blonde girl turns her head enough to see you over her shoulder and waves goodbye. You wave back.

"Have a safe trip!" You say. Much, much later you'll call this 'day one', when Alcina first entered your life, but for now:

Alcina... The name feels sweet like honey in your mouth and you smile. You can't wait to see her again.

-------------

@thejennystuttle here it is the first one i finished. I got carried away, srry. Hope u like it?

-------------

If you love my work, buy me a coffee?

[notarealwelder]

Recent babble on notebooking/pomodoroing

Reloading context is paramount

I cannot reliably remember fiddly details of a nontrivial task (e.g. a refactoring the size of "move 30loc into a different module, harmonize imports and dependencies") I've been doing only yesterday, much less 3 days ago on Friday

Two concepts of having an idea what to do

There are tasks in which the brain can generate an immediately takeable action it thinks will be useful, and tasks where it cannot. There are also tasks in which I have a plan/decomposition that makes it clearer how the task can be achieved, and tasks where I have none such. Both of these can be glossed as "I have an idea what to do / no idea what to do", but they're quite distinct mental states, and have different recommendations!

From no plan and no immediate action I can get into the state where "sketch a plan" is an immediate action. This gets me into "yes plan" state, from where "attempt to execute points of the plan" is either an immediate action, or a nontrivial task, to which I can apply decomposition

(this doesn't always work, because I might not have enough understanding of the domain to plan coherently: too much confusion about the domain and I can't even write steps; slightly less confusion and I can write steps, but won't have enough confidence in them to motivate myself to execute them)

Given no plan and an immediate action, it's tempting to simply take it; this is often a good idea! but also this way less structurelessness, lack of higher-level direction, moderately probably eventual disappointment from not getting Actually Useful results. in any case, pomodoro-ish structure with ≈enforced periods of reflection and re-planning does help with that; see some more on it below

Writing the very same thing multiple times is useful

dunno if it's my personal memory that's sievelike, but it refuses to hold a 5-point plan for the whole 25m it will take to execute its first 2 points; it will be displaced by execution details in the best case and by outside context distractions in the worst case.

that's an argument for writing things down once, but not more than that, right? no! reading the plan written half an hour ago, or even copy-pasting parts of it, is profoundly different from writing it down again, in entirely new words. (new copy of the plan also sidesteps the problem of searching for it in the big note & laborously filtering already-done fragments; I do not want to hold many pointers to different parts of my note, nor spend time re-reading it to locate what I need.)

Saying out loud what I intend to do to someone is very useful

when I get into it, it's a very cheap method to force myself to ≈put my plans into very-short-term memory; to give them intention; to force some explicit computation of these plans; to make a record of these computed plans that can be consulted in the next minutes to answer the constant "ok what now" question quite well

(sidethought: getting attached to doing the whole plan on time was a very bad idea for me in particular; estimating things sufficiently pessimistically is lunacy (and has additional problems w/ diminishing enthusiasm for doing them), dropping sidethoughts to get the planned thing on time is hard. much better to be ok with not getting everything planned done, and yet enjoying the benefits of planning.)

(sidethought 2: not uncommonly a plan calls for further planning somewhere in between; several iterations of plan-act cycle are....fine? I think at some point I might have had aversion to "always planning & never getting things done", but I sure do not have one now; getting a clearer view on smaller details is progress towards having them done after all)

Pomodoro-style enforced """breaks""" are good for several reasons

1st, they provide designated time slices for taking a brief higher-level look on the whole process; see below for why that's good

2nd, they provide a safety rope that can pull me out of rabbit holes I sometimes fall into

(I also recall that pomodoro technique is used to ≈alleviate frustration with ongoing tasks? but can't attest to it personally as of recent month; perhaps I'm working on insufficiently frustrating tasks.)

Summaries are useful

They refresh the context in mind, which, as above, is good

A good opportunity to get implicit or explicit mental rewards for Getting Things Done

it's not hard to lose track of the goal during the action, especially if there was no explicit plan, an idea for immediate action, and the domain was confusing. summary-time is perfectly suitable for doing a little meta: what are we trying to achieve again; did that thing we just did help; where should we go from here