#anyway I hope you enjoyed this snippet!!

[sunfloweraro]

Relaxing in Kakariko

While waiting for Wild to finish speaking with Impa, the group take a moment to relax. Twi has some ideas on how to help Bunny calm down.

Tags: @thatonecrazysidekick @tiredgaytheatrekid

�� . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

Warriors settled back, his legs dangling, feet hovering just above the water, the toes of his leather boots sending gentle ripples through the still water. He leaned back on his hands, eyes slipping shut, and were it not for the fact that Twilight knew Warriors, he would have guessed the man had switched off entirely. But his ears twitched with every sound, his shoulders tense. He was overthinking things again, while still on high alert.

And he wanted Twilight to relax.

“Stop thinkin’ so ‘ard,” Twilight chastised him, flicking him over the shoulder and causing Warriors to flinch. “I can feel meself getting’ a headache jus’ watchin’ ye.”

Warriors shot him a sour look, and so Twilight kicked up water all over his pants. “Hey!”

“Ye need tuh learn tuh relax, my friend,” Twilight said. “Take a few deep breaths and let yer mind switch off fer a bit. I promise I’ll listen out fer the both of us.”

Warriors scoffed, but Twilight had a feeling it was only for show, if the way a soft smile tried to lift Warriors’ lips told him anything. “Alright. I will try, I suppose.”

“Ye bet ye will. Breathe in with me.” And when Twilight made an exaggerated breath in, Warriors followed. Together, they took several deep breaths, Twilight watching as Warriors’ shoulders lowered, the tension bleeding out from them. “Good. Now lie back and rest, will ye? Yer one o’ the worst of us when it comes tuh sleeping.”

Warriors made a show of grumbling, but he settled back against the hard wood of the boardwalk, resting his hands over his stomach and finally letting himself relax. His eyes slipped shut, that soft smile still gracing his lips. His hair encircled his head on the dark wood like a golden halo.

“Tha’s better,” Twilight said, squeezing Warriors’ arm and earning a huff of laughter. With a grin, Twilight leaned back on his hands once more, leg resting against Warriors’ side, ears sharp for any sign of danger as promised.

Soon enough, he heard the soft footfalls of folks approaching. Cracking open an eye, Twilight smiled when he saw it was only the rest of their group, bar his Cub. “Evenin’” he greeted. “The inn too good fer y’all?”

Hyrule picked his way over Warriors, settling down on Twilight’s other side cross-legged, setting Bunny in his lap. “The cook wasn’t prepared for a group of eight hungry Heroes and their rabbit. She’s shooed us all away for the moment.”

Twilight laughed at that. They rarely stayed at inns, but the horror on every cook’s face never ceased to make him laugh. They always repaid the cooks with praise and tips to apologise for the extra work, and each of them walked away happy. As he settled, he turned his attention down to their newest member. “How’s ‘e doin’?”

Hyrule slumped slightly, running a hand over Bunny’s back and receiving no response. “He’s been despondent since the fight. I don’t think he’s sleeping much, either. He just doesn’t seem to relax. I’m worried…”

Twilight understood what that was like, to be so high-strung after a terrible fight and consequential injury. He understood how traumatising the experience was, how difficult it became to continue on afterwards, when it felt as if you were trapped in your terror. Instinctively, he raised a hand to his left shoulder, felt the phantom pain there from the beginning of his journey, scarcely a few years ago now. “Mind if I try somethin’? I’ll be gentle with ‘im,” he promised when Hyrule looked hesitant to part ways with Bunny.

After a beat, Hyrule acquiesced, lifting Bunny into his arms and holding him close for a moment, before passing him over to Twilight. Bunny was warm in his hands, a comforting weight he had been missing all day, when Hyrule had been reluctant to let him go since the fight. “Hey there, li’l one. I know ye’ve been through the wringer lately. I’ve got somethin’ tuh help ye relax some.” He set Bunny down in his lap, the rabbit facing him. Once Bunny had shifted and gotten comfortable, Twilight set his hands over the rabbit’s head, slow and careful so Bunny wouldn’t panic. Even in the gentle touch, he could feel how terribly Bunny was shaking, just how badly the fight was still affecting him. His heart ached for the poor creature, and the life they had chosen for him by tearing him away from his home. But Twilight reminded himself that if they had set him free again, Bunny likely would have run off into the wilderness once more, and this time, he wouldn’t have them to find him.

“Aw, ye poor thing,” he murmured, his face softening. He cradled Bunny’s tiny head in his hands, setting his thumbs over Bunny’s forehead. There, he began slow strokes, from the space just above Bunny’s little nose, up between his eyes, and to the back of his head, then back down to start again. With his other fingers, he began to massage behind Bunny’s ears. It was a trick Rusl would always do for him when he awoke from a nightmare, in his Hylian and his wolf form. In both forms, he would relax under the gentle pressure and drift off swiftly.

It had the same effect on Bunny. The little pink rabbit’s eyes began to droop, his body stilling as his muscles relaxed. With a smile, Twilight continued, warmth blooming within his chest as Bunny settled under his guidance and comfort, and eventually drifted off.

“Wow,” Hyrule said, leaning closer. “You must have a magic touch.”

Twilight shrugged. “It’s a thing with animals; helps ‘em relax.”

Hyrule hummed. After a beat, he shifted closer, leaning into Twilight’s side. “Thank you. For helping him, I mean. I was beside myself with worry…”

“Of course,” Twilight said, removing one hand from Bunny to settle over Hyrule’s shoulders, drawing him in closer. “He’s family, now. That means we look out fer ‘im. Just as we look out fer each other. Get some rest, Traveller, you look a right mess too.”

Hyrule huffed a laugh, but Twilight wasn’t exaggerating. His concern for Bunny had been keeping him up, and it took no more encouragement for Hyrule to lean heavily against him, a deep sigh escaping him.

Twilight sat as he was until Wild came back, two sleeping bodies resting against him and a third against his leg, and a pleasant, tingling warmth pressing against his heart.

[calamitoustide]

gabby's special birthday extravaganza

or whatever you wanna call it... for the third year in a row I give you guys gifts on my birthday because it's fun and the last two years I've started something new, finished a fic, and updated a fic so I had to continue that too. So of course, I've gotta get the band au in here, finish is it new years yet... and post a little new moonchaser fic <- not so little my first canon compliant fic i'm terrified <3

Fuck It! I Love You!: Prologue

There's always been something about James and Remus that they've never allowed themselves to fully fall into... but when the entire friend group is a mess and all they really have is each other... Fuck it! Why can't they be happy? or James and Remus fall in love in the aftermath of "The Prank" but it's not the be-all-end-all cure they were praying it would be

Is It New Years Yet?: Chapter 5

[James Potter]: Party starts at eight!  [James Potter]: No you can not cancel this late I’ll cry  [Regulus]: I’m sick  [James Potter]: Liar [James Potter]: Marlene saw you at the shift this morning  [James Potter]: I’ll see you in three hours Exactly <3 

You Don't Get To Tell Me About Sad: Chapter 19

i'll tell you something right now i'd rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning...

[alilbatflies]

Hi there, just found your "just cake" fic and I am interested in how it continues.

What i'm saying is, please continue this fic, villainxhenchman is now one of my favorite writeblr tags.

-@the-agency-archives

Hi! I'm glad you liked part 1. Now get ready for...

...

Just Cake #2

The commonly known thing about old-fashioned traps was that when they failed to trap you, you got to tease the creator of it relentlessly. A net, seriously? People have tried before, sweetheart. Better luck next time.

The inconvenient thing about old-fashioned traps was that when done properly, they did their job damn well. It was exceptionally embarrassing to get caught in one. You should have seen that coming. Alas, you didn’t. Fool.

The henchman had tried pushing the villain out of the way once they noticed the trap. So now they were both caught. The villain hovered over them in the really quite cramped space of the net. Wasn’t that wonderful?

The villain gave the net a testing jerk. It didn’t do them any good.

“Who the fuck even uses nets these days?” the villain hissed.

“It does seem we’re quite literally trapped, boss.”

“No, we’re fuckin– not–” the villain tugged on the net violently– “UNSTUCK YOURSELF!”

“That’s not how traps work, boss.”

It was a definitely never to be mentioned ever again kind of situation, really.

The villain settled into a relative silence. They clawed at the net with one of their blades while growling and cursing occasionally. They tended to be silent most of the time, but the henchman knew very well just how varied their cursing vocabulary was.

They were sure the villain had far exceeded their word limit for the day. Their voice was furious. Cutting.

But not cutting enough to slice through the ropes.

Henchman smiled at their internal commentary; glad they didn’t blurt it out like they so often managed.

There was nothing better to do, and so they watched the villain struggle. They hung really quite skillfully above the henchman, somehow not falling down on top of them. Not that the henchman would especially mind. It was quite cold out there.

They briefly wondered who would even set up a trap that far out in the woods. The obvious answer was someone who lived around. Secret hideouts and all that jazz.

The thing which bothered them the most however was that whoever set the trap up was skilled. Skilled enough to have them both trapped. The villain especially was not easily trapped. Once that whoever came around, they would still be stuck and practically at their mercy. The henchman doubted there would be mercy to be found.

The net moved under the villain’s persistent attempts.

Cold air breezed past. The henchman came to the conclusion that someone showing up was better than freezing to death. 

The villain’s yell startled them out of their thoughts.

“SCREW THAT!”

“Screw me,” please.

The villain obviously stopped themself from cursing again, turning to look at the henchman. “Hm?” they said, which henchman translated as ‘you’ve said something?’

“Nothing.”  Here we go again. Saying stuff.

The villain measured the few nicks they managed to inconvenience the rope with. They huffed an exhale. “That’s not going to work, is it?”

“I’d presume we won’t be able to get out of a net specifically made to capture and hold magical things, boss.”

The villain huffed another exhale. They hid their knife. Then they looked down at the henchman, slumping slightly.

“Do you suppose I could sort of hm… flop down on you? Really uncomfortable up here.”

“Conserve your energy.”

The villain slumped on top of them.

The net was quite uncomfortable under their back even before, but with the added weight, it reached a whole new stage of discomfort. There was nothing the henchman could do about that. Except for maybe miraculously breaking them both out of the trap and acting like it never happened. A minion could dream.

“You’re warm,” the villain said.

“Huh.” The henchman didn’t really manage to figure out a better reaction. They felt too warm entirely, just about bellow the boiling point. It definitely had nothing to do with their proximity. Nope. Not at all.

They both stayed perfectly still.

The henchman considered shuffling, but they had a feeling it would be even more uncomfortable than before.

“Do you regret anything?”

The villain seemed to mumble that mostly to themself, but given the whole situation, the henchman caught it anyway.

“Don’t think about dying yet, boss. We’ll have plenty of chances to make it out.”

The villain hummed, unconvinced.

The henchman hardly convinced themself, so it was no surprise. They decided to answer the villain’s question at least. Death loomed over them with the deft finality of a trap shutting down with chilling-to-the-bones precision. Just like it did.

Nothing to lose but the vague concept of dignity, huh?

“I regret ruining your birthday cake.”

The villain was perfectly still for a moment. Then they lifted themself to look the henchman in the eyes. “My what?”

“Well… you see, the thing that splattered on your doorstep… on your birthday day?”

The villain blinked.

The henchman looked away. It was such an awkward thing, wasn’t it? Of all the things they could have chosen… then again. You make someone cake and then you drop it like a clumsy tool. The sole act of baking the villain cake was borderline ridiculous and entirely unprofessional, too.

“You know when my birthday is?”

“You mentioned you were born on Vampire Day once, in relation to the Candle Parade, so that’s a day after the autumn equinox, so… That’s that.”

The villain hummed quietly, thinking. They rested back down.

The henchman held perfectly still, as if that could somehow remove all of their embarrassment. They measured their breathing, for all it was worth. They had a feeling the villain could sense how uncomfortable they were anyway, but hopefully played it on the whole stuck-in-a-net situation.

“Nobody’s ever given me birthday cake before.”

“Oh, really?” The henchman tried to see the villain’s face. It was a whole new of an uncomfortable movement, so they stopped.

“You’re the first.”

“But I’ve…” Ruined it. Splattered it. Fucked up spectacularly. “…dropped it.”

“Worse things happen,” the villain said. “I appreciate the effort.”

“I didn’t even wish you… anything.” It had been a busy day. The henchman forgot about the villain’s birthday, except for all of the inconvenient times when they really couldn’t say their thing. Like in the middle of a fight, when they were in the bathroom, or when the villain finally fell asleep and the henchman didn’t want to wake them up.

Might as well fix that now. “Happy belated birthday.”

“Hm. Thank you.”

It made the henchman very comfortably warm. Convenient for the villain, they supposed, since they were being used as a personal heater at the moment.

“What’s your regret?”

“Hm?” The villain sounded almost startled.

“Your regret.” Henchman tried to adjust their head to get at least a little bit more comfortable. It only got worse. They rested back to the way they were. “You know my regret. I want to know yours.”

It took the villain a long time to make a sound again. The henchman thought perhaps they crossed the professional line too far, stepped just beyond the acceptable. They prepared their sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that but the villain spoke first.

“I suppose that’s fair.”

They are very fidgety all of a sudden. But at least they sounded like the henchman’s head might stay on their neck.

“So.” The villain cleared their throat. They searched for words and seemed to come out short.

“You don’t have to tell me if you’d prefer not to.”

“No, I’m…” The villain inhaled deeply. In a wave of composure, they spoke at once: “Actually, it partly involves you—I mean, it entirely involves you—and the thing is that you, sincerely–”

The villain’s attention shifted.

The henchman felt the silence settle over them. The last words were like stones falling into the lake, vanishing to leave but circles running on the surface.

In the silence, the henchman finally registered the someone moving closer.

The villain shifted in an attempt of a defence position despite the power-suppressing net and the inconveniently squished henchman underneath them. They bared their teeth in a snarl.

“Look who we’ve caught,” an entirely too sweet voice said. “Well, aren’t you two adorable?”

...

Part 3

[sweaty-toothedpoet]

hi todd!! i'm trying to read more poetry this year

do you have any recs or favorites i should check out??

hi there, anon!! thank you for the question-- i love recommending poetry to people. here's a list of some of my favorite poems:

small wonders by e e cummings

i like my body when it is with your body by e e cummings

to you by walt whitman

meanwhile by richard siken

ELEGIES (for my father) by khaled mattawa

adult grief by louise glück

if you're looking more for specific poetry books, i'd be remiss not to recommend leaves of grass by walt whitman, but richard siken's crush is just as lovely. i also enjoy reading snippets and quotes from stories that have a poetic quality to them. i hope these are sufficient :)

[bi-bats]

trick or treat!!!

MAYA HI!! I LOVE YOUR HALLOWEEN COSTUME IT’S AMAZING AND I HOPE YOU GOT ALL THE CANDY YOU WANTED FROM ALL THE HOUSES YOU VISITED BUT JUST IN CASE, I HAVE A FULL SIZED BAR (snippet of the beginning of the “drabble” I’m writing for your prompt, which is in quotes because it’s actually going to be over 2k words) FOR YOU!!

Tim’s awareness comes back the way it always does. Sound, then scent, then pain, blah blah blah.  He’s not up to dissecting it. He’s in a hospital bed and everything fucking hurts, from the space behind his eyes to his fingers, but especially his ribs. They feel like they’re on fire.  ‘What happened?’ is what he tries to say.  “Nghhgghh,” is what he manages. “Be quiet, Timothy.” Tim’s brow furrows, an action that hurts his skin. Because Damian doesn’t talk to him like that anymore. Occasionally, Tim says something to him that earns him a biting reply, but he usually deserves the nip for whatever it is that he said.  Then he places the wrong note he’d heard in Damian’s voice. Shit. This is probably Tim’s fault, then.  He clears his throat to try again, not even bothering to open his eyes. It’s a routine at this point — he knows if he opens them he’ll be blinded by the lights.  “What happened?” he manages to squeeze out this time, but it sounds like he spent an entire day screaming, his voice is so hoarse.  “You fainted straight into my arms,” Damian lies. He means for it to come out sarcastic, but even he can hear the flatness to it, the way it lacks the dry humor that he usually parries with.  “Ha ha,” Tim says from the bed, his voice weak. Everything about him feels weak right now — the lack of color in his face, the lack of volume in his hair, the lack of strength in his posture.  But especially the bandages wrapping his torso.  His next comment is much more genuine. “You know, if you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”  Tim opens his mouth to answer, but Damian doesn’t let him.  “Stop talking,” he orders.  Tim is almost offended, until he feels cool plastic pressed to his lips, and he understands.  He lets Damian help him drink. When he pulls away, he feels a gentle stroke along the side of his lip — Damian’s thumb brushing away a droplet of water. 

[forestwhisper3]

heads up, seven up!

rules: post the last seven lines you wrote, then tag seven people. reposting, as the reblog chains get long!

. . . . . . . Yup, I'm alive (just very, very busy lately) Anyway, I was tagged by my good friend and amazing artist @joyfuladorable and thought this sounded fun. ...It may also be a sort of apology from me for being gone/silent for so long. So! Rather than the last seven lines, here are seven little teasers from fics I've been chipping away at during the bit of downtime I have- when I'm not just playing some Animal Crossing to destress, that is. It's not necessarily the most recent for some of them, but parts that I think you'll enjoy without giving away too much. Enjoy! (Also, please keep in mind that as these are still being refined, there might be parts you see here that may not be present in the final product) ============== Title Pending (Rottmnt) ==============

Not for the first time tonight, Raph had to wonder how he'd gotten to this point.

"There," his companion hissed quietly- a word he never would have used to describe her before this moment.

He leaned over her shoulder and squinted at the figures walking below. "You sure that's them?"

"OF C-!" she choked back her yell and settled for a heated glare. "Yes I'm sure! I'd recognize those ugly outfits anywhere!"

"How can you even see them from so far away?"

"That's how ugly they are."

Despite himself, he snickered a bit. Once he settled down, he crossed his arms.

"You do know this whole thing is crazy, don't you?"

She grinned ferally. "Yep."

"And it's very likely that if we're caught, we'll either get arrested or- if you're right about all this -even die, right?"

"Yep."

"You're insane."

"So are you coming or not?" she asked impatiently.

He looked over the ledge again, watching as the people below continued loading trucks.

"Well, Raph's made it this far," he shrugged, allowing an easy smile to slip onto his face. "And I think I'm overdue for a bit of crazy myself. Let's do it."

"Hell yeah!" Cassandra- Casey, he corrected himself -cheered, pumping a fist. "Let's go, Red!"

The two of them jumped.

============== Dragon of the Sun (TMNT 2003) ============== "Hey, I'm fine! Really! It'd take a lot more than some crazy lizard and spoiled son to take me out!" "You have cracks in your shell. And while I'm sure Donatello has provided excellent care, you are going to the med bay." "...Yes, M'am." Raph snorted softly as he watched Ananda start dragging Mikey away, his little bro not having put up nearly as much of a fight with her as he had against him and Don back home. Then again, he wasn't really surprised either. Maybe it was because Mikey played such a big part in reconnecting her with her dad, which led to her joining the Justice Force, but it was clear that she had a huge soft spot for him.

"And you're positive that there was no lasting damage?" And it seemed like she wasn't the only one. He turned to face Silver Sentry, the usually calm man also watching them go with furrowed brows and a frown. "Not that we could see," Raph sighed. "From what I've gotten him to tell me, he needs to take it easy for a couple more weeks, but he should be fine after that. Let's just hope nothing happens until then." And he really would hope this time. Usually he was itching for a fight within a few days, but if it meant Mike going out to fight before he was fully recovered? No way. Silver Sentry gave a sigh of his own. "And here I thought we could avoid this very thing by only making him an honorary member." ============== Turning Back Time (Linked Universe) ==============

"Hey, Time, do you have any other masks?"

Wind's question immediately caught the group's attention as they settled down to eat. Warriors looked up, admittedly curious as to how he would respond, especially since he knew Time would probably want to keep those cards close to his chest in order to mess with them.

But perhaps he was still remembering Hyrule's misunderstanding from the other night, since he was surprisingly straightforward in his answer.

"Quite a few, actually."

"And are they all magic like the- bunny hat?!"

There was something else Wind was going to say there, he realized, and judging by the way the others' gazes seemed to sharpen at the slight pause, they'd noticed it too.

Come to think of it, the two of them had been together this morning, hadn't they?

He thought about that for another second, then felt a chill of dread.

Could they be working together now? Sweet Hylia, he hoped not. Just remembering the sorts of things they'd accomplished together between battles during the war made him want to run far, far away. He was ninety percent certain that half the reason Impa disliked him so much was because of these two. He wondered if it would be possible to switch sides. ============== Recollections (Linked Universe) ==============

-of Darkness who sought to plunge the world into fear and darkness under his rule. Fearing his wicked rule, Zelda, the princess of this kingdom, split up the Triforce of Wisdom into-

"-eight fragments," Hyrule weakly read that part aloud, face pale and eyes wide in dawning realization and growing horror. "T-This-…this is-…"

He whirled around to look at Time and Legend, the sickly look on his face growing even worse when they nodded grimly.

"Oh no," he murmured, turning back around and curling a bit into himself.

"Okay, that's enough," Warriors scowled, although the worry in his eyes betrayed him. "Would one of you please just tell us what's going on already?! Why's Hyrule upset now that he's figured out whatever it is you two know?!"

"It's about me," Hyrule explained, looking up at them with haunted eyes. "That story we're reading? It's what happened in my Hyrule. Zelda- my Zelda -broke up the Triforce to keep Ganon from getting it. Shortly after, I found myself on my first adventure."

Silence. Then, the implications finally sunk in.

"Oh, fuck," Wind swore.

"Can't we-?!" Twilight began.

"I doubt it," Time sighed, already knowing what he was going to suggest. "Seeing as we were all brought here, then subsequently locked in, it looks like we're going to have to finish watching before we can leave. And I know it's not going to end with just Hyrule's adventures."

The air between them felt heavy now that everyone knew what they'd be seeing, and there was a pause, as if they all wanted to say something but couldn't find the right words. Finally, Legend let out an angry burst of air.

"Let's just get it over with," he said. "I know this is the last thing any of us wants, but it looks like we don't get a choice. The sooner we watch it all, the sooner we can leave this hellhole."

An apt description for this place, Time couldn't help but agree. Absolutely no danger to be seen, but somehow just as nerve-wracking as if there was. If not more so.

Another pause, but despite their reluctance, they all knew inaction was an even worse feeling. So Wild eventually started it up again. Fearing his wicked rule, Zelda, the princess of this kingdom, split up the Triforce of Wisdom into eight fragments and hid them throughout the realm to save the last remaining Triforce from the clutches of the evil Ganon. At the same time, she commanded her most trustworthy nursemaid, Impa, to secretly escape into the land and go find a man with enough courage to destroy the evil Ganon. Upon hearing this, Ganon grew angry, imprisoned the princess, and sent out a party in search of Impa.

The black screen started fading into color, although the words remained, and harsh panting could be heard as a landscape came into focus. ============== Title Pending (Trolls) ==============

Floyd was gone.

"THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!!"

That simple, heartwrenching fact kept spinning and spinning and spinning in his mind until it was all he could think through the numbness that had taken hold of him.

At least, until Clay's scream managed to break through.

John flinched, finally tearing his gaze from his second youngest brother's crystalized form only to meet the furious, teary eyes of the third's. It was all he had the time to do before Clay shoved him away from where they'd gathered around, the tiny ember of rage that had been ever present in those last few days as a band finally blazing into a wildfire, fueled by the same grief that seemed to have frozen him in place instead.

"IT'S YOUR FAULT WE SPLIT UP! IT'S YOUR FAULT WE WASTED TIME! IT'S YOUR FAULT FLOYD'S-!!"

Clay choked, unable to voice that final, damning word. Instead, his face twisted as it finally seemed to catch up with him. Yet the tears that began to stream down did nothing to soften the anger that continued to burn.

Staring as intently as he was, there was no missing when that anger slipped into hate.

"I'll never forgive you," Clay hissed, his entire body trembling and tense. "We'll never forgive you."

He swallowed thickly and chanced a glance at Bruce and Branch.

They stared back in stony silence.

"I'm sorry," he managed to push through the knot in his throat and a familiar gnawing emptiness that began to settle in his heart.

Sorry he'd failed them…

Sorry he couldn't protect them…

Sorry he'd hurt them…

Sorry he couldn't be what they'd wanted him to be.

His apology only seemed to anger Clay further.

"You're sorry?! Is that all you can-?!" He cut himself off, and took a deep breath. When he spoke next, it was with piercing finality. "All you've ever managed to do is ruin things. Ruin us. So, if you're really as sorry as you say you are, you'll keep yourself from ruining what's left."

"Clay-" Viva protested, concern thick in her voice as she stepped forward.

Clay cut her off with a look and a shake of his head, but the bit of John that didn't feel numb appreciated the attempt.

She was good for him, he thought. He hoped they could be happy together.

Without him.

Because that was what they wanted, he realized. It was what they'd always wanted. Hadn't they always told him to mind his own business? To go away? To leave them alone? It was him who had been too stubborn to listen. Who had ignored what they'd practically been screaming in his face for years.

Not anymore, he promised. He'd already messed things up enough. For once, he was going to do something right by them.

Clay was distracted by Viva, and the others had gone back to looking at Floyd. It was like the universe was agreeing with him, telling him that he needed to take himself out of their lives for good.

He took a step back.

Two…

Three…

He took in the sight of his brothers one last time, knowing that it really would be the last time, and climbed into Rhonda.

"Let's go, girl."

She fought him for a moment, and he felt yet another pang of guilt- she'd gotten attached to them, it seemed -but eventually allowed herself to be steered away with a melancholy warble.

"It's for the best," he told her softly, eyes closing in resignation at the hollowness he could hear in his words.

A hollowness he'd experienced just one other time in his life and struggled to escape. Even now, he could see it overtaking him again in the way the color slowly leeched from his fingers and trailed up his arms.

That was fine. Last time, he'd pushed forward for Rhonda. For his brothers. For his-

He closed his eyes and slumped in the driver's seat as a fresh wave of loss swept over him.

This time, when the emptiness threatened to swallow him whole, John Dory looked into the abyss and hung his head.

It was time to stop fighting. ============== Journey (Pokemon SI/OC) ==============

"Satoshiii, you've got to be kidding me!" I groaned as I pulled his curtains open. "Seriously?! You promised you wouldn't sleep in!"

Ash waking up late was a running gag in the anime. I knew this. Really. I did.

I just hadn't realized how bad that habit actually was.

"EHHH!?!? Amy, what time is it?!"

Mrs. Ketchum must have had the patience of a saint dealing with this every single day.

"Late enough that you're only gonna have time to get dressed! Now, move it!"

"But, breakfast-"

"MOVE IT!"

He yelped and scrambled off the bed, and I hurried out of the room to give him privacy. Walking back to the kitchen, I huffed as I took a seat, rolling my eyes when I heard a loud thump echo from upstairs.

"Never a dull moment with that kid," Papa chuckled quietly into his tea, still a bit bleary-eyed himself.

"Good thing he spent the night. With Hanako gone, he wouldn't have had anyone to wake him up," Mama shook her head with a fond smile.

"Next time I'm leaving him," I grumbled, though it was halfhearted at best.

Mama handed me two lunches and I secured them in my bag before grabbing some extra riceballs for Ash and placing them on top.

"Is Shigeru going to be taking part in the field trip?"

"He said he hears enough about it at home, so no. Good thing too, I don't wanna babysit him and Satoshi. I wanna see some pokemon, too!"

It was a good way to test how things could be once I began my journey. At first, Mama and Papa had been a bit hesitant to agree when Ash brought it up yet again (he did so every year, but this was the first time we were old enough to actually go), but Uncle managed to convince them. I was going to be with a group, and Professor Oak was sure to have at least Arcanine with him, so I would be more than safe.

To his credit, Ash only took a few minutes to get dressed, but our house was a bit of a walk from Professor Oak's lab, and we found ourselves having to sprint for the last stretch of it.

"-guess we're setting off," I heard Professor Oak say and immediately pushed myself just that little bit more.

"Wait!" I called while waving my arms, never more grateful for all the running I'd done during training than at this moment. "We're here!"

I slid into the meeting place like a baseball player, taking care not to squish the contents of our lunches as I allowed myself to drop onto the grass to catch my breath. Ash was still a bit behind me, but they should be willing to wait now that I'd made it.

"Way to look like a total loser," a familiar, though currently unwelcome, voice cut in through the harsh pants.

I groaned. "I thought you weren't coming."

"I'm not," Gary scoffed. "I just got curious because Gramps hadn't left yet. Shoulda known it would be you two behind it."

"And I should have known you'd be too nosey to not butt in."

============== Horizons (FF7 SI/OC) ==============

Ryuu stretched as he wandered into the entrance area of the inn, not bothering to hold back a wide yawn as he tried to shake off the last vestiges of drowsiness. Overall, he felt much better than yesterday, his various pains now muted to a dull ache instead of the sharp throbs and spikes of before. Thank fuck for accelerated healing. Probably one of the highlights of being SOLDIER, in his opinion. Cassie's potions had only helped in that- he'd probably be back to normal by the end of the day or early tomorrow at this rate.

It was early- enough that the sun was just barely starting to rise -but to his surprise he wasn't the only one awake. The innkeeper was already up, phone pressed up against his ear and having what seemed to be a pretty serious conversation if his expression was any indication.

"-keep an eye out for him, don't you worry…It's the least I could do after everything your daughter's done for us. Besides, I know I'd want someone to do the same if it were one of my girls missing…" He sighed, tone turning apologetic. "I don't. Wasn't expecting her to leave so suddenly, or else I would've asked…I'm sure she'll be fine. She's a tough girl, and clever. She practically saved this town."

Wait. He couldn't mean-

Now completely awake, he rushed back upstairs, only just catching the innkeeper's now confused expression as he continued his conversation with who he was becoming more and more certain was Cassie's family, though unfortunately missing the question itself in his haste to check on her.

"Son of a bitch," he hissed upon opening all the guest rooms and finding them empty. "You little shit."

Is this what it felt like to have a younger sibling? He was pretty sure this was what it felt like to have a younger sibling. This sheer frustration and annoyance- suddenly, all of his friends' complaints made so much more sense. Not to mention the worry. What if she ran into something else she couldn't fight? She said that bodyguard of hers could keep her safe but how could he be sure of that? She hadn't even let him meet the guy!

Cassie'd left early on purpose. He was sure of it. The question now was why.

He wanted nothing more than to chase her down and find out, but as it stood, he couldn't. He'd updated ShinRa on his status the moment looking at his PHS didn't make his head feel like it was going to explode, but while they'd allowed him some recovery time, they were also being very pushy in their reminders that he report as soon as possible. He could understand the insistence- absolutely no one had expected what sounded like a run-of-the-mill monster extermination to put a SOLDIER out of commission, even if only for a day or so -but he wished he could just-

His PHS buzzed in his pocket, and he sighed, heading for the stairs again.

============== ============== ============== And there you have it! Hope you enjoyed the little clips! Like I said, I am working on them. It's just a lot slower than it used to be since I have a longer commute to and from work now, and by the time I get home, I'm usually too tired to write. I'll be going on a short vacation in about two weeks or so to visit my bro, and I hope to get a good chunk of writing done during that time. You may see a few chapters pop up then. Fingers crossed, at any rate. For now, I think it's back to chipping at them a little bit more. Take care!

[aparticularbandit]

Just A Jump To The Left (I)

Summary: When Haruhi grabs the collar of her shirt and tugs her backward, Junko expects it. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt when the back of her head bangs against the edge of Haruhi’s desk, doesn’t mean she doesn’t still wince with the pain of it. She glances up, blinking, and meets Haruhi’s golden honey eyes with a grin. “We’re gonna start a club,” she whispers, mouth moving a fragment of a second before Haruhi’s, so it sounds almost like an echo but not quite.

“We’re gonna start a—” For a moment, Haruhi’s enthusiasm, her excitement, falters. Her brow furrows again. “What did you say?”

OR: Kyon's role is sabotaged by none other than one (1) Junko Enoshima. This...probably won't end well.

Brought to you by a discussion @tobiasdrake and I had about what it would look like if Junko and Haruhi ever met.

Chapter Rating: T. Fic Rating: T.

AO3

next chapter

Ryoko hasn’t done anything with her hair yet.

Chunks of it still hold its natural blood red sheen, but streaks of it from her scalp all the way through to their tips have transformed to a pearlescent white.  She can’t say exactly when it happened; somewhere between the moment she fled her sister’s massacre of assassins (at her sister’s insistence) and the moment she found Yasuke in the little apartment where he’d been holed up since transferring to his new middle school (to intern at the nearby hospital, despite his age) – somewhere in that space of time, it had happened.  Yasuke didn’t comment on it the first moment he saw her, but he did shortly after, and she’d run her fingers through it, all grease-spattered and dirty, and wondered how he’d seen the white underneath all of its grime in the first place.

Eventually, she’ll have to decide what to do with it; whether she’ll return it to its blood red or bleach it all white or play around with something that is neither at all, she’ll need to do something.

(Not the red.  If not for the white streaks, it would look just like the blood she’d seen around the—)

((When she remembers all of that, she heaves, vomits.  She told Yasuke once – just once – and they’ve never discussed it since. Even then, she didn’t give him any specifics, just enough for him to understand why she is here.  Why she can’t go back.))

She hasn’t started attending middle school yet, not while she’s still recovering from everything, not when she doesn’t even have hair with one consistent color yet; she’d be bullied ceaselessly for that, and she’s in no condition to be bullied (she’ll snap, she’ll hurt someone the way that Mukie—), and Yasuke is so busy during the day with middle school and his hospital internship that the only time they can spend together is after dark.  He bikes to school, bikes to the hospital, because that means he loses less time to sleep (because that means he loses less time with her), but every now and again, as she slowly but surely gets better, she walks to the hospital to see him – to walk back with him, if she doesn’t sit on the back of the bike as he takes them back.  Sometimes they walk the streets, silent, and it’s clear that bothers him.  She’s always been the talkative one.  She just doesn’t have the words anymore.

Ryoko walks through the streets in a white gown, barefoot, with her hair streaked red and white, and people avoid her.

They probably think she’s a ghost.  That’s fine.

Yasuke bikes them back, and people avoid both of them.  That’s fine, too.

Ryoko holds onto both sides of the rack Yasuke’s tied to the back of his bike and leans her head back and looks at the stars.  They seem to stay in place as he bikes them back, and she reaches one hand up and out, as though she could almost—

The bike hits a pebble, something so infinitesimally small Yasuke couldn’t have known to avoid it, and the bike jumps, and Yasuke stays on, and Ryoko, with only one hand loose on the rack, tumbles off.  Her knee stings, as does the palm of the hand she’d pushed out to break her fall.  The skin of both has been scraped clean off.  She’s bleeding.  The same color as her hair.  The same color as—

To the left of her, something metallic jangles.

Ryoko breathes (had she not been breathing before?  maybe not) and looks up to see a girl of roughly her age with long brown hair and a ribbon holding it back trying to climb over some sort of metal entry gate.  She blinks twice – makes sure she isn’t seeing anything, and she isn’t because the girl is still there – and shouts out, “H-hey!”

The girl glares at her.  “Hey what.”

It’s not a question.  It should be a question, probably, but it’s not.

“What are you….”  Ryoko struggles with words.  She’s never struggled with words before.  “What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” the girl calls back, still glaring at her, pert nose upturned.

Ryoko glances at the sidewalk around her, then slowly pushes herself up as Yasuke’s bike skids to a stop behind her.  “I fell,” she says.  She brushes the dirt and rocks from her skin, sees the blood bubbling and ebbing up through her broken skin, and her eyes begin to glaze over.

“Well, I’m going to break into the school!” the girl halfway over the gate says.  “And you’re going to help me!”

This has nothing to do with me.

The breeze lifts the edge of Ryoko’s white gown and sends it pushing back and forth against her ankles.  Yasuke’s saying something – barking it out at the girl whose name she still doesn’t know – and Ryoko’s just seeing the spot at her knee where the white gown is growing stained with her blood.

This has nothing to do with me.

Ryoko shivers as the breeze brushes cold against her bare arms, and she starts towards the gate, to the girl halfway over it.  Yasuke grabs her wrist, but she shakes his hand off.  “What are we doing?”

The other girl beams.

“You’ll see when we get to the other side!”

~

Ryoko doesn’t exactly collapse on the other side of the gate, but she hits her bloody knee when she lands and then can only hobble where the girl wants her to run.

The girl gives her a sour expression, lips a downturned V, and then glares up at Yasuke as he jumps over the gate with them.  “Fine,” the girl says, “you’ll do it then.”

“Do what?”

Which is how Ryoko ends up sitting on the bleachers with her arms resting on her knees, her hand wrapped in a fresh bandage, her right knee wrapped in another one, while the girl shouts out directions to a Yasuke who keeps glaring at her and then looking over at Ryoko, who is too tired to tell him to stop.

Tired.

That’s a funny word, honestly.

Tired.  Exhausted.  Weary.  Consumed.

If she’s honest, Ryoko hasn’t felt like herself since Mukie abandoned her, since Mukie told her to run.  She feels like something else – like someone else – like she’s in the middle of some great and terrible becoming.  Eventually, the girl sits down next to her, still barking directions at Yasuke occasionally, and without a second thought, Ryoko leans her head against the girl’s shoulder.

The girl flinches.  “What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” Ryoko quips back, voice soft with excessive weariness, as she glances up with big red eyes to meet the girl’s golden brown ones.

The girl gestures with one hand to Yasuke and whatever he’s writing with the chalk along the ground.  “Can’t you tell?”

Ryoko sighs.  She doesn’t have the dataset for this.  She doesn’t want to look for this.  But the girl asks, and so she does.  “You’re writing a message,” she says, voice growing monotone, “to anyone who can see it and understand what it says.  You’re saying, I’m here.  To aliens, to time-travelers, to espers, to sliders, to Santa Claus himself, if he’s out and about on a holiday that isn’t his.”  She doesn’t blink.  “As if that sort of thing would draw any of them to you.”

“You can read that?”  The girl’s eyes narrow, and her face gets super close to Ryoko’s.  She smells a bit.  Sweat, mostly.  Probably hasn’t brushed her teeth.  “Are you an alien?”

“No,” Ryoko says calmly.  “I’m a ghost.”

The girl presses the flat of her hand against Ryoko’s bandaged knee and scowls when Ryoko winces.  “Ghosts don’t bleed.”  Then she crosses her arms and slumps back down, glaring out at Yasuke.  She shouts another direction at him – Ryoko doesn’t care, so no matter how loud the girl gets, she doesn’t pay her any attention – and then gives Ryoko another suspicious look.  “How do you know that won’t work?”

Ryoko rolls her eyes.

(This isn’t like her.  She cares, usually.  She listens.  Even when Mukie used to go off on all of her soldier mercenary military assassin research and interests.  Even when Mukie spent hours correcting her posture because she was holding her stick sword wrong.  But this….

This has nothing to do with her.  Even if she’s sitting right here.  Even if she decided to break into the school with this stranger.  It still has nothing to do with her.

So why is she here?)

“If all those creatures are here and in hiding, a message like that isn’t going to get them out.”

“But it’s in their own language and everything!”

“Are you sure?” Ryoko asks, glancing out over the incomplete message, its chalk inscription trying to gleam in the moonlight and failing.  “Or did you just decide it was their language without any real proof?”  She leans against the other girl again.  It’s overly familiar, sure, but it’s comfortable.  And she’s so tired.  “If I were an alien, I wouldn’t tell you anyway.”

The girl frowns.  “Even if I guessed?”

“Even if you guessed.”

The girl barks out another instruction at Yasuke, but it’s not as enthusiastic as it was before.  Half-hearted.  “You really don’t think this will work?”

Ryoko shrugs.  “It might.  There are probably stupid aliens just like there are stupid people.”  (She is not like this.  She doesn’t call people stupid!)  She leans a little more heavily against her.  She’s warm, which really just means that Ryoko is cold.  “But do you really want a stupid alien?  Or do you want a smart one?”

“Any alien!” the girl proclaims, loud, enthusiastic, all that energy coming back all at once.  It’s endless, maybe, her enthusiasm for this.

It makes Ryoko feel even more tired.

(She was like this once.)

“People are all just boring and normal,” the girl continues without hesitation, "and aliens, time travelers, espers, sliders – all of them are infinitely better than people!”  She flashes Ryoko a grin.  “That means you, too, Ghost Girl.”

Ryoko blinks twice and then looks away.  (She’s too bright, this girl.  She’ll blind her with that warmth.)  “At least you’re looking for them,” she murmurs.  “You can’t find one if you aren’t looking.”  She runs her forefinger along the inseam of her thumb.  “Maybe I should write a message for them.”

The girl shoves her.  “Don’t steal my idea!”

“I won’t.”  Ryoko chuckles – small, broken – as she holds up her bandaged hand, used again to catch herself, twinging with pain.  “I’d have to break into another school first, and that….”  She sighs and stares out over the now quite marked up field in front of them.  “I’m too tired.  But you’ll let me know if yours succeeds, right?  Make all the papers?”

The girl just grins at her.

~

It’s as they’re leaving the school, as Ryoko carefully situates herself on the back of Yasuke’s bike, that the other girl pauses in her brisk walk in the opposite direction.  Then she turns, hands propped on her hips, and yells, “What’s your name?”

Yasuke doesn’t even turn back, answering before Ryoko has a chance to do so, “What do you need that for?”

“So I can tell you if they contact me!  Obviously.”

Ryoko hops off the back of Yasuke’s bike.  The action causes her knee to twinge again, but she doesn’t wince as she hobbles over to the other girl.  “Mitsuki,” she says, voice gentle.  Standing next to her, she realizes that she’s nearly the same height as the other girl.  How odd.  Someone so bright seemed like she would be huge.  Huh.  Still, she meets the girl’s honey brown eyes as she repeats, “Matsuda Mitsuki.”

The girl looks her over, and then instead of offering her own name, she asks, “What middle school are you at?”

This time, Ryoko doesn’t have a lie ready.  Even if she did, something tells her it would be far better to keep that information to herself.  There are people she doesn’t want to find her right now, after all, and while it isn’t likely this girl has contacts with any of them, it isn’t an impossibility.  So instead, she takes one of the girl’s hands in her bandaged one and holds it up until they’re flat against each other.  “Have you heard of the red string of fate?”

“Ew,” the girl says, lips pursing, but she doesn’t take her hand away.  “Why’re you bringing that up?”

“Well, think of it like this.  If I don’t tell you and we see each other again, then it’s fate, right?”  This time, when she meets the girl’s eyes, Ryoko almost feels taller than her, but not by much.  She’s growing, finally.  Maybe she’ll be as tall as Mukie the next time she sees her.  If she ever sees her again.  “Like the cosmos says we’re supposed to be friends, or something like that.  And if not—”  She winks.  “Well, we’ll find those time travelers, and we’ll fix it, won’t we?”

The girl holds her hand still, flat against Ryoko’s.  “If I find a time traveler, I’m not going to waste my time finding you.”

“Fate, then.”  Ryoko tucks her thumb around the other girl’s hand.  “Like a good story with a clandestine meeting.”

“Hm.”

But despite the noncommittal sound, the girl tucks her thumb around Ryoko’s hand just the same.

There are no red strings when they leave.

That’s probably for the best. Ryoko hates red, anyway.

[persephoneflouwers]

“Harry, you look stunning tonight.” Zayn ogles Harry in a way that would make anyone – including Louis – blush. Harry is wearing a fancy tunic made of expensive silk, which falls just above his knees. The fabric is dyed a deep, rich, vibrant lilac, and it is embroidered with intricate designs in white thread. Over the tunic, a fur-lined cape, fastened at the neck with a jeweled clasp. […]

“Thank you. I could say the same about you.”

“Would you, though?”

It appears that Zayn hasn't lost his lethal charm when it comes to flirting. Even in this time.

“No, I would not.”

DE AMORE EX TEMPORE - pt 💜/🎨

Coming soon on AO3

[sunfloweraro]

WIP Weekend

Aka an excuse to post more Pink Bunny stuff!

It’s Zelda’s turn to comfort Ravio. Slowly but surely, he’s beginning to accept help.

Tags: @tiredgaytheatrekid @thatonecrazysidekick

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

“You can still sense him out there?” Zelda asked, though she knew the answer. Ravio needed to speak more on this, and she would push him in the right direction.

“Somewhere,” Ravio mumbled. “He’s still alive, but… it’s faint. It’s been faint since yesterday like… like he doesn’t want me to know he’s still alive. Like he’s trying to break our connection.”

Zelda’s eyes widened. That made no sense; Link loved Ravio. They were best friends, as close as herself and Hilda. She knew how fond Link was of Ravio, knew his affection would never waver, even if Ravio upped and tried to resurrect Ganon.

So why was their link suddenly fragile? She would need to consider the implications of such a thing, but that would come later, once Ravio was resting. She would speak with Hilda on this, try and learn just what this could mean.

“Link would never,” she said firmly. “Perhaps…” she faltered there, uncertain. How could she know where Link might be, when he hadn’t come to her in months? “Perhaps, he has been called for another quest.”

Ravio scoffed. “He returned from one a handful of months ago. The Goddess always gives him at least a year between quests.”

Zelda was running out of ideas. She could sweet talk ambassadors from other kingdoms, could carefully guide her council into agreeing with one of her decisions. But here and now, she found herself frozen with uncertainty. “I…”

“I did this,” Ravio murmured. “I chased him away; this is all my fault.” His voice rose in pitch, and he was quick to clamp a hand down over his mouth as he shuddered in her lap.

This, Zelda could handle. “Oh, my dear. You don’t have to hold it in. You have a right to be frustrated and upset.”

Ravio sniffled. “But, I…”

“You are hurting,” Zelda said. “You have been hurting for so long. It is okay if you need to cry; you do not have to hide from me.”

Ravio’s breath hitched at her words, and she was quick to bring him into an embrace, grateful for her strength as she held him as close as possible. As he dissolved into soft sobs, his chest heaving against her, Sheerow landed on Zelda’s shoulder, pressing herself into Ravio’s hair, trying to comfort.

“You are okay,” Zelda murmured, holding him tighter, praying her words were enough. “I am here.”

“I miss him so, so much, Zel,” Ravio wept into her shoulder. “I miss m-my Link.”

“I know,” Zelda said, trying to keep her voice steady as her heart began to break in her chest. If she were in his position, if it had been Hilda who had disappeared… “I know,” she repeated, cursing the way her own eyes became wet.

“He hates me now. This is all my fault.”

Zelda shushed him softly, began to murmur comforts in response to his painful words, a vicious cycle that felt it would never end.

Finally, Ravio settled in her arms, slumping against her and sniffling occasionally. She began to run an arm up and down his back, smiled when he pressed closer.

“This is not your fault,” she said, now that he was in a state where he could listen.

Ravio hummed disbelievingly. Said nothing.

“It is not,” she insisted. “There has to be a reason for why your link is so weak. But for now, I do not want you to worry about anything. All you need to do is focus on getting better.”

“But… what about Link?”

“I have over half of my guards out looking for him. All of the townsfolk were eager to help. You should have seen Gulley.” She laughed lightly then, thinking back to when the young man had shoved his way to the front of the search party, eager to help a close friend of Link’s, even if he didn’t know they were searching for Link, and not Ravio’s rabbit. “Irene has been flying around nonstop all day, and at night she is staying in your cottage, keeping an eye out for Link.”

“She knows?”

“She put the pieces together herself. She will not tell anyone,” Zelda assured him. “She wants to help, like everyone else.”

“Oh…”

“You are not alone in this, my dear. We are all happy to take up the search, and we will bring Link to you the moment we find him,” she promised. Ravio deserved to be the first to know that the search was over, deserved the relief after everything he had been through.

Ravio sniffled, burrowing closer. “Okay.”

***

Also a note! I will be taking a little break from posting Pink Bunny snippets, folks. My brain needs a break from this project, so I’m putting it on hold for a little while to work on my novel—so no new snippets. I will continue updating the story every Wednesday though, don’t worry! Thank you all for reading and I hope to have more snippets soon <33

[good-beanswrites]

Was able to post a few things tonight :D Idk if the other things will be ready tomorrow but I'm glad to be back in the writing swing from the past few days

[malachitezmeyka]

A few of the various iterations of Suiren in our Multiverse of Madness and the different things she is into, comprised into one (not so) neat list for my beloved @katkastrofa as part 1 of her birthday present (intended to be used as reference for a certain something 🤭👀 and also bc she said please when she reblogged my earlier post and who am I to say no to that? :D)

(Alternatively: Tumblr please don’t nerf me I beg you)

Under the cut for comfort reasons :’)

SotRL/post-SotRL – At first uses sex as an outlet for her frustrations, wanting it fast, rough and with as little feelings involved as possible. Merciless biter, loves attention on her tits, has a raging praise kink but would rather die than admit it. Touch her hair and you die (at first. After some time she’s okay with it being stroked or brushed out of the way, especially while she’s sucking Kuvira off). Generally rather sensitive and vocal so is very fun to play with, but she doesn’t let herself lean into it fully, and thus is extremely unaware of her submissive side. After she starts healing from her trauma and trusting Kuvira more, on the other hand… 🤭 She is still very much capable of domming or topping of Kuvira so desires, but for the most part she can’t get enough of letting herself be guided into the subspace and giving her brain a little break, willing handing Kuvira the control and trusting that she will be taken good care of. Discovers her oral fixation and leans into the praise kink, as well as riding Kuvira’s strap, having her tits fucked, imagining Kuvira being able to actually come down her throat or inside her, general BDSM stuff, bondage, light petplay, dehumanisation, ownership and edging. So, so much edging 🤤. It gets to a point when she’s not even too keen on coming at all, not wanting the experience to end. But she does love her orgasms, especially when she’s nice and full, so sooner or later she will end up begging for it anyway :D I very much might have missed something, but in my defence, there really is a lot to her

UtOS – Somehow, the complete opposite to SotRL Suiren. Extremely dominant, loves being in control and isn’t too fond of giving it up. Essentially, power bottom to Kuvira’s service top, though she does also love having Kuvira writhe on her water tendrils. Can and will use her bloodbending to her advantage once she finds out Kuvira likes being overstimulated, and heavily leans into the possessiveness kink by calling Kuvira hers as often as possible. Drops orders and light degradation as easily as breathing, and while she does enjoy being praised, it’s to a much, much lesser degree than her SotRL counterpart. Less being called a good girl and more being thanked for giving it to Kuvira so well. A bit of a sadist and somehow even more of a biter than usual. All in all… Grandma Ikiaq is a bad influence 😁

Ultimate AU – Looks like the dominance depends on the bloodbending rather than not being raised by Haya, because we’re back to something more closely resembling SotRL. Except here, Suiren is an impossible tease. Every Suiren knows full well that she’s attractive, but this is the only one who flaunts it quite as openly, wearing almost exclusively low cut dresses, putting an extra sway in her hips as she walks, always squinting at Kuvira in that seductive way… all that good stuff. And as a result of being a tease, she’s also one hell of a brat just begging to be tamed. She’s known nothing but freedom her whole life, so there’s little quite as enticing as the idea of having control forcibly taken from her. She likes being restrained after Kuvira gets sick of being teased and snaps, and fucked as roughly and thoroughly as possible. Most likely is incredible at giving tit fucks while her dress is still mostly on, just with her tits popped out. Is okay with having her hair pulled as long as it’s done lightly. The praise kink also isn’t that prominent, she’s much more into soft cuddles – in which Kuvira is *not allowed* to move as if a cat had fallen asleep in her lap – as a form of aftercare

MoA – I don’t have much on her bc this AU is rather underdeveloped, but she’s essentially pre-discovery-of-submissiveness SotRL Suiren, but even more repressed because the load she carried for her entire life was doubled and having to dispose of her abuser’s body after she was killed by her 15yo sister did absolute fucking wonders for her mental state. A bit more on the controlling side, preferring to take charge. Very into angry sex bordering on hatefucking, will ride Kuvira like her life depends on it to the point of hurt. Insults and death threats take the place of normal well adjusted flirting. Is nowhere near ready to be indulged in her even more well hidden praise kink, would probably claw Kuvira’s eyes out if she ever tried. Perhaps she should get a taste of Kuvira’s newly formed spirit cock and maybe she’ll calm down

Sacrifice AU – Easily the most vanilla out of all her counterparts. After her near death experience she’s extremely averse to all manners of being restrained, whether with metal cuffs or simply being held down. Her wrists are particularly sensitive, never to be grabbed. She doesn’t like being manhandled in any way, she gets to pick the position, and she picks something that will allow her to be on top and not trapped under Kuvira. Prefers grinding or humping to anything being inside her, be it fingers or a cock. Still just as obsessed with having her tits sucked, but it has to be lighter, not enough to leave bruises. She doesn’t like seeing bruises on herself. Praise kink to the max, anything to drown out the voices always shouting obscenities at her. Only while being called beautiful and desirable as she rides out her orgasm, clinging to Kuvira like a lifeline, does she actually feel alive again

Small rarely talked about bonus, Avatar Suiren AU – Living as an all powerful being with not one but two Great Spirits residing inside her gets very tiring very easily. Luckily, a certain someone is always willing to help her mind to drift away and her to lose herself in pleasure for a few hours. A bit more into degradation than praise. In those moments, she isn’t the Avatar, the master of all four elements, saviour of the world, and the memories of lives that came before her as well as those annoying Spirit kites’ constant bickering all fade away. No, in those moments she is simply Suiren, Kuvira’s Suiren, her beloved good girl. And nothing else could possibly matter

[himi-wiz]

4th and last part of the Old World Tokens excerpts! I'll make a collage later.

Links to the 1st part, 2nd part, 3rd part.

—————

Aside from the flagged drinks at the Old World bar, there are a few significant additions:

Out of spite (or is it begrudging allowance?) — there happens to be a plain whiskey drink wrapped in edible paper bandages.

For when the original black and red flag was added, it was actually filled with whiskey, moulded to the anonymous benefactor's tastes.

And a certain mafioso hated it so much he had the bartender pour out an elegant wine cocktail in a wrapped glass modelled after the benefactor in a petty rage and so both parties came to spite-drank each other's glasses every other visit out of hatred.

It was at that point when one of the mystery benefactor's companions had accompanied them to the reopened Old World once and while there were no confirmed admissions, the bartender swore the red-haired companion favoured the drink shaped after his friend, at first ordering it out of amusement but later out of appreciation for the taste. (Not that they've visited this part of town that often, much to the bartender's chargin.)

Alas, the benefactor soon started coming alone after an unusually long hiatus.

The first time he did, he's taken aback by two changes.

First, the contents of red flag and bandaged drinks were swapped.

There was a comical moment of stunned silence, followed by a long blink at the whiskey set in front of him. A drink this benefactor hadn't touched since the absence of his friend.

He eventually downed the drink with a childish pout about how he's definitely not thanking that Chibi for messing things up. The gentle way he handled the glass betrayed his true thoughts before he's given yet another surprise —

There's a new food item he hadn't seen before:

An extra spicy curry dish called 'The Curry of Life'.

Marked by the popular label at the side, it's apparent to the beige-coated guest why this dish was well-received as he read through the 'all you can eat' terms and conditions during the weekdays and for kids. An cheap, affordable choice for anyone hoping to get their fill.

The benefactor dropped the menu with a loud groan, sliding a hand over his forehead. The conflicting emotions soon dissolved into wry laughter as he ordered a set for himself.

And as he expected, he still hated it.

Still just as tortured by the spices burning his mouth months ago as he is bad at tolerating the each bite of this one. And the benefactor would complain with an obnoxiously pitched whine to the bartender about how that rotten slug was adamant on making him suffer and he'll have to pay him back tenfold.

But the bartender would note, with a bit of smugness - how relaxed his customer looked, and they're certain there's the smallest of smiles grazing their benefactor's face.

It would be a regular favourite of this benefactor even as he brought over guests years later, eyes lighting up as he'll snicker at his workmates' expense, slowly adding them to the list of patrons the Old World bar caters to.

Special thanks to @melodiclune for enabling. I'm never writing again smh.

[somedaytakethetime]

I've had all these snippets of images in my head and I don't know what to do with them.. so I figured I could turn it into some type of writing. There's no discerning details that give any certain person away, so if you read it, in can be about just about anyone you fancy and feel would fit this. Of course, you know who I am picturing but.. that's details 😶 Warning: NO KIDS! DON'T MAKE ME PUT YOU BABIES ON THE NAUGHTY STEP! This isn't even like.. proper dirty or anything, but there's heavy implications and small touches of intimacy and elicit activities, some words that may be heavier than others if you know what I mean.., and I don't want the children to think dirty thoughts 😤 Word count: 5 283 words to be exact, I ramble..

Your hand rises and falls slowly with the pattern of his breathing. It lays on his naked chest, you lay on his naked body, his arms wrapped around you and rubbing your back softly. You watch the shadows on the rug, the same one you're both laying on, cast by the sun as it slowly sets in the window behind your heads. As you try to catch your breath and feel him do the same, you're still wondering how you ended up here.

His eyes are beautiful. That's the first thing you notice as he smiles politely at you and cordially shakes your hand when you're introduced. He repeats the name your superior just said to you, his voices is lower and more sensual than you expected and a small shiver runs through you, you pray you won't stutter and repeat your name back at him. He pulls back and you feel his hand still grasping yours, even as you're introduced to the rest of the bunch. Even as you try to stand as straight as possible beside your new employer, you still feel his hand in yours, his eyes on you, as they'd been just a few minutes ago. You never expected to be here, hired to work at this club, you didn't expect you'd be so close to them either, you thought you would have some small position and do meaningless little tasks. You're nervous, your heart skips beats at times, you're afraid to mess this up, to end up looking foolish in front of so many people, and... you're afraid of the way you can still feel his hand on yours.. his eyes burning into you from across the way.

You should probably get up and leave. Or at least get up and lay on the couch, the rug is soft and warm but it's still a little.. awkward to be laying naked, pressed to him, on his rug like this. His eyes are closed and you wonder if he fell asleep, you try to move away and you find out that he hasn't. His arms tighten around you immediately and he opens his eyes slowly, his voice sounds.. god, his voice, the things he says.. he's so attractive but the way he sounds and speaks, you feel shivers thinking about the things he's said to you before.. even tonight.. you refocus on his voice as he says, soft and low, in that effortless sensual tone that's natural to him, "Where do you think you're going?", a smirk lifts the corners of his lips softly and you hide your face against his chest, suddenly warm all over again and needing.. so much all at once.. you muffle into his skin "I thought I'd get on the couch.." and he nods "Not comfortable here? I should have probably taken you to bed.. I do have one, and it's incredibly comfortable.." he lowers his voice and a shiver runs down your spine again, he's trying to get a rise out of you and he doesn't need to. Everything about him turns you on, you've never been so attracted to anyone before. You part your lips to speak but he doesn't give you the chance. He lifts himself up, takes you with him, somehow through some testosterone-induced display of strength he gets you both up from the floor, carrying you in his arms, without even wobbling once. He looks down at you and his smirk looks devious now, "Shall I show you my bed then?"

Working here isn't as difficult as you'd expected it would be. But it's also not as easy as you'd expected either. You have good days, and bad days. The problem is that the bad days are more frequent. Through no fault of your own, that's just the way things are here. Too many egos, too much testosterone, too many strong personalities. It all leads to arguments, to misunderstandings, to being yelled at and lashed out towards. You're often apologised to, after they've calmed down, asked for forgiveness and told that you've done nothing wrong, they're just all under a lot of pressure and stress. And.. you'd let that slip.. if it wasn't happening constantly, that is. Because none of them know how to control their shitty attitudes and it grates on your nerves. You keep your head down, stay silent, this is a well paying job and you don't want to lose it. Especially not over these assholes and their arrogance. Your superior is nice, that's all that matters because he's the one that you need to spend the most time with, the rest of them can go to hell. The rest of them… except… him. He's kind to you. Incredibly kind even. Has gotten into arguments with others over you. Over the way he watched them talk to you, over the things they've said to you. He doesn't have to get into trouble because of you, you've told him every time, and he just smirks, defiant, like he was made to fight and contradict, "And what? Pass up the opportunity to remind them of their place?" and you start to realise that this man has far more layers than you know of. He's.. hard to figure out. He's quiet, rarely ever speaks unless spoken to, he's also clearly a loner. He'll interact with his teammates when needed, praise them and laugh with them when he's in the thick of training, but outside of that he retreats back into himself. Stands off to the side. Observing everyone. Silently judging them. Silently judging you too..

His bed is indeed comfortable, just as he said it was. The sheets are soft, the pillows smell like him. You love the way he smells, it's so.. rough? woodsy?.. it's manly. You're don't care for logistics that small, but the only way to describe his scent, and even the underlying feeling he gives off, is that. Manly. He has tenderness too, that he's displaying right now as he softly traces your naked body like you're porcelain, placing gentle kisses everywhere, treating you like something fragile and beautiful to be treasured, driving you to the brink of madness with his slow motions. But there's a biting edge to him. You always know that this man, who appears so calm and controlled, will lose his mind in roughly .5 seconds and fight someone if his anger gets the best of him. And you'd be lying if you said that you don't find it attractive. How controlled he is. A stronger personality simmering under the surface of all that control and calmness. Which is too calm at times.. like right now. He's kissed a path up and down your thighs five times and you're about to pull all that glorious hair out of his head if he doesn't do something more than tease you.. "Will you be there all night? Didn't you promise to show me something? Something along the lines of what talents that tongue has that go beyond defying people?". his hands look massive as they snake around your thighs, he pulls you down closer to him suddenly and a squeak flies out of you, the devious smirk, ever so present on those perfect lips whenever he's around you, is back "I like it when you're sassy, baby.. it makes it even better when you start moaning incoherently for me."

A sob slips out of your lips and you try harder to keep it quiet. This is the final drop. You're tired of being yelled at by assholes, sure, but this is worse. You weren't hired to be harassed, if these bastards don't know how to behave that's their problem. You feel anger, a strong and heavy feeling in your chest pooling like black liquid, and you ball up your firsts. You slam them against the wall behind you and you want to scream. You want to go back and slap him, but you're not allowed, even if he was disgusting. The images keep replaying in your head, you're trying to do your job and gather their information to update their data, keeping quiet, head down as usual, asking personal questions in the most formal and detached manner that you can and that oaf.. the big one. You never liked that one from the time you were introduced. He smiled at you like such a sleaze.. you've been revolted by his presence ever since and you avoid him like the plague that he is. But.. you had to do your job. You had to ask questions because of these stupid sheets. Personal, medical, technical, all for the database of their information to be updated.. and he had to try and be funny… he had to try and flirt again, no matter how hard you ignore him he does it again. Asking you personal questions that you ignored, commented on your body and how it looked in the loose, long dress you're wearing.. and… he had to start commenting on his body. On his size to be exact. And his capacities as a man. When he cornered you against the table, put that sleazy, disgusting paw on your waist and said so casually "I could show you.. I bet you'd sound really hot screaming my name while I fuck you.." you just lost your composure. You pushed him roughly, you called him disgusting, you told him firmly "I would rather die without sex again than to have sex with you. You're revolting." and you walked out, found the first bathroom you could, and here you are. On the floor. Trying not to disturb anyone as you sob against the corner. You're not sad, you're angry. Angry that you can't retaliate more. Angry that if you were to tell anyone they would just tell you that the guys here are "being playful, you're a pretty girl, pay them no mind. They'll tire of it, I promise." as they've told you before. You're boiling with anger. You're tired of being disrespected. You make a snarled sound as you get up and walk to the sinks. Wash your tears and try to gather your composure. You look like you've been crying, there's nothing to be done about it. You take a deep breath and turn around. He's standing there. Leaning against the wall, right by the door. You didn't hear him come in. He has his arms crossed over his chest, and he looks pissed. "I heard some things that I didn't want to believe.." he's speaking through gritted teeth, you look at him as he pushes away from the wall, walks towards you, looms, "Did he tell you all that shit?" you wonder if you could lie, say that you were just being sensitive and he didn't mean any of that crap, you know what will happen if you confess what just happened to you. You know he will fight the oaf. You can see the fire in his eyes, those beautiful eyes, daring you to lie to him and pretend he can't see the truth. You just exhale and nod slowly, can't look him in the eyes as his anger bubbles over and the loud smack of his fist slams against the countertop. "That motherfucker! Did he hurt you?? He said you were like marshmallow in his hands, did.he.hurt.you?" and your voice sounds angry "No, he didn't! But he had no right to touch me! I don't want random men caging me against desks and groping my waist like I'm just a piece of meat! Tell that bastard that I wasn't anything other than disgusted by him!" and… he was made to fight and defy people. There's the confirmation. The smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. The fire raging in his eyes. The way he says, so casually, "Oh, sweetheart, I'm going to do more than tell him, don't worry." as he turns his back on you and walks out..

He is unfairly good at that. Unfairly good at everything he does really. He can control his body with just as clinical precision as he can control his temper, and it's unfair. You can feel his smirk against the most sensitive part of you, can feel the delight he takes in how easily and quickly you fall apart for him. Because of him. He's relentless, renders you speechless, a mess of whines and moans and pleas, a mess of neediness and aching and pent up frustration needing to be released. He does it on purpose. Slows down and teases you every time you feel your spine start to tingle and sparks appear in your closed eyes. You curse out his name, "Please! What do I need to do for you to stop that and just let me come, god, will you please do something more!?" say frustrated and he has the audacity to laugh. Right against you. Shivers run down your spine and you moan, it rings inside you and it makes you feverish and needy all over again. Your voice gets softer, you're suddenly pliant in his hands again, mewling and begging. He takes pity on you, holds you tighter, presses you down into the mattress and stops teasing you. Watches you the whole time, eyes fixated on your body and how you arch up for him. Because of him. He loves watching you fall apart like this. He's addicted to how you react to him. He's addicted to you. It's been a long time coming, he's still unsure how he managed to get you here tonight, but he's never been more thankful to whatever Gods are out there, watching over him, and helping him along this path. He doesn't falter until you're pushing at his head, lifts up and smirks at you as you open your eyes slowly, still barely able to focus on him, and he places a kiss right where he just made a mess of and laughs at your curses and shivers. He gets up from his place, crawls over your body, cages you against his bed, "So… how was that?". He feels giddy right now, feels like a teenager again, there's something about making a beautiful girl giving into him like that.. but beyond that.. there's something about having you here right now. In his house. On his bed. Under him. Pliant and willing, eager even, to be with him. He's wanted it for a long time, even if you likely have no idea of it, but that's beside the point now. There's other matters to attend to while you're so willing under him. He nuzzles your neck, kisses you slowly, then whispers in your ear "How do you feel about testing out the quality of my mattress?", and he knows it's incredibly cheesy but he's feeling light hearted and happy tonight, and you react by whining and melting further so.. he figures you don't mind it either.

He would say you've been building a budding friendship. Even if he's pretty sure you have no idea of it. Because he's a little.. guarded, if you will. He doesn't trust easily, he doesn't befriend people easily either. He likes his space, his peace, his own ways. He prefers to stand back, watch others, judge and gauge what they're all about. Studies people and tries to gather information before he can make a decision on them, he tries to be impartial, tries to give everyone a fair chance but.. he's also himself. Reserved and slightly stubborn in his ways. He knows what he wants and he knows how to get it, he's never had trouble with his confidence or his own self assuredness. He doesn't feel the need to justify himself to anyone or be a person pleaser. He also doesn't feel the need to make friends at work, not in a deep sense. He's polite to everyone, he'll be playful when there's room for that, and he'll go along with some things from time to time. But he's not here to be best friends with anyone, he's here to work. And he does his job well. So well apparently, that it's created some friction with some others around. So, try as he might to be professional, he doesn't like some of these guys because they don't like him and don't bother hiding it either. But, that said, he does like you. You're quiet too, just as guarded as he is, and you always keep your head down too. He could see from the very beginning that you're here to do your job and get on with it, and he respects that. He doesn't like stereotypes but he's aware that some girls try to get jobs at places like this for reasons that have nothing to do with the job. He doesn't judge that, everyone is after whatever life they want in the end, but he doesn't particularly care for those girls either. Being loved for the potential of what he could give to others in terms of lifestyle isn't something he wants, he just wants to be loved for himself. It's hard to get people to see him, who he is, without all the glitter and the flashes of the lifestyle. Without the fame aspect and the money. He's tried many times before, had loose strings here and there, and they all fell flat. He didn't feel a connection like he needed to, they weren't bad girls, they were funny and kind, but they had expectations from him. They created an image of him in their heads and that's what they were in love with. Not him. Not the simple man that has simple hobbies. The man that would rather cook dinner himself, instead of go out to some fancy restaurant that he'd have to put a suit on for. He's never been able to share himself, his true self, with anyone before without them thinking he was joking. Girls don't often believe how much of a nerd he is, how boring he can actually be, how unexciting he wants his life to be. Because he looks a certain way. And he has a certain reputation too. All of them do, so he understands it's hard to accept that, in the end, he's just a regular man. But he is. And you believe him. He's unsure how and why he felt such a pull to you when he first shook your hand. There was something. Probably in the softness of your eyes, the clear nervousness that clouded your whole being, the way you tried to stand and look so tall and professional but he could see your hands shaking the whole time, could see your cheeks flush pink with shyness whenever someone talked to you. He grew attached to you the more you spend time together. He sought you out, struck up conversations, tried to get to know you. To get you to be comfortable with him. And little by little you were. You built a friendship, that he thinks you're unaware of, and he cherished that. Cherishes the fact that you only laugh with him, only tease him, only feel comfortable around him. He knows that last bit isn't very healthy but.. he feels vindicated, he's selfish and he doesn't care. He likes you, really likes you, and he likes that you like him back. He also.. feels possessive of you.. which is why… he always gets into so much trouble for you..

He's relentless. And you're going to faint. It's just too much. Your whole body is on fire, your senses are all overloaded, you can't even see straight and your breathing is barely enough to fill your lungs with oxygen. But he's relentless, and you are too because even as your head feels fainter and fainter, you want more and more. You need more and more. You need it all. You need him. He feels amazing, he's sturdy and warm over you, he knows just what to do to make you fall apart at the seams, knows exactly how to move to make your whole body curl around him, knows just what to say to have you biting at his shoulder and clawing your nails down his back. He's amazing, he's both gentle and rough, pushes you back and reels you in, keeps you on edge for what feels like hours and drives you insane. When he allows you to fall, it feels so strong, it's so potent, that you all but faint. Barely hanging on to your senses, clinging to him, possibly crying from how good it all feels, you aren't really sure. Your body is a mess of emotions and he kisses you so slowly and tenderly as he falls with you too. Presses his forehead to yours as you both pull back with a need to breathe, keeps you so close and tight to him, melts against you too and wants to never let you go. You're shaking as you come down, you wouldn't be able to move right now from how limp he's rendered you, but also from how constantly you shake. Luckily you don't have to. He pulls away from you slightly, carefully rolls you both sideways and holds you tightly in his arms. One hand cradling your head and petting your hair, the other rubbing soothing circles on your back. He presses tender kisses to your forehead, whispers to you tender words of reassurance that you're okay and he's right there, holding you and keeping you grounded to this earth so you won't float away. You start to calm down, realise that you did cry because you have tears drying on your cheeks and you're almost scared of the power this man has over you. He makes you feel in a way you've never felt before. He pulls at your heart in such a strong way.. you're scared of that feeling. Because you don't know how he feels about you. He's so hard to read, even as he gently tells you that he's not going to leave and that he's right there for you, that he'll take care of you. It's hard to know if he means now, or… you melt against his chest, sigh heavily, remember what happened earlier today. He's suspended for a few days now. After that show, of course he would be, but you didn't mean for it to happen. You've apologised, chastised him, but it didn't make a difference because all he did was laugh.

You're back with your papers at the medical office right where you left them. They let you use this place today for all the crap that you needed to deal with, but someone clearly filled in for you while you were gone. The papers now have a handwriting that you can barely read. 'Does no one teach these men to write properly!?', you think exasperated. It's not the first time that one of your coworkers hands you notes that are barely legible. You exhale angrily, trying to push aside all that's happened today and just focus on getting to the end of your workday. You're trying to decipher what a certain hieroglyph says when you hear a commotion outside. There's a giant windowed door beside you, that leads to the training grounds, and you approach it. A mass of bodies piled in a circle is on the field, there's shouting. Something is happening. You don't think twice, you open the door and rush out. As you get closer you realise what's happening. He's hitting the oaf. They're tangled on the ground, he's overpowered that oaf, and he's punching him. Everyone else all around them is trying to get them to stop, a few have entangled themselves too and you're not sure why. Maybe men just love any excuse to fight each other and they'll break into silly antics as soon as someone else does. One of the older coaches shouts, the head coach is running towards all of you, some of the older players are trying to keep everyone in check and trying to dodge punches too. 'This is a mess..' you think to yourself. You regret telling him, you should have lied. But, god, you can't pretend that you're not pleased seeing him punch that disgusting oaf.. seeing him insult him and argue with him.. trying to defend you and make him pay for how he acted towards you earlier.. you feel so.. vindicated. Violence isn't the answer, you know it, but sometimes? It's pleasing to see someone do what you would like to do. You would be fired if you retaliated his actions from earlier, but they won't be fired. They're the team.. the club needs the team. They're men, they're always excused for their actions with no more than a slap on the wrist. And a slap on the wrist they get. When the head coach has them all under control he loses his temper and yells at everyone. Scolds them like little boys and a few of them have the decency to look ashamed. When it's all said and done, your saviour and the oaf are suspended for a few days, one for fighting and the other for his lack of professional conduct towards female staff. Rich that it took a fight to break out with the team for them to take the disrespect seriously but.. you'll take it. Some of the others are suspended for a day and the rest are severely scolded just because they were in the vicinity. The head coach turns to you suddenly, "As for you. I would like to apologise for the treatment you've been receiving. I'll speak to the management and we'll see what should be done. But next time? Tell me what happened, not one of my players." and the tone of his voice makes you whisper 'asshole' as he walks away after dismissing everyone. He approaches you, his knuckles scrapped and bloody, his lip is bloody too and he seems to have a bruise blooming under his right eye. You want to kiss him suddenly. He smirks at you, like the devil himself, and says "You're lucky you're this cute, otherwise he would have suspended you too." and winks as he walks past you. You scoff at the suggestion and stomp after him. Until you realise what he said. He thinks you're cute. He's teasing you. Again. You instead walk back to your borrowed office and gather your things, you were dismissed too, and it is the end of the week anyway so.. you cross paths with him as you're both walking out. You're looking at your watch to check the time, maybe there's a bus you can catch now. Or you could walk back, it's not so far off and you did it this morning. But as a hand lands on the small of your back, and a low voice says behind you, "Do you need a ride home?" suddenly.. your plans for the night have already changed..

He's looking at you seriously when your eyes focus on him again. "Is everything okay?" and you nod confused, "Of course. Why wouldn't it be?". He caresses your cheek softly and looks puzzle "I feel like I lost you for a moment there, your gaze was far away.." you settle against him, trace the bruises and cuts on his knuckles, "I was just thinking about what you did today. You got into trouble because of me, and you didn't have to." he pulls you tighter, "Someone had to. Besides.." he lifts your chin up and kisses you again, a deep kiss that takes your breath away and makes your heart pound against your ribs, "I don't like the way he talks to you. Or looks at you. Actually I don't like him in general, but I especially don't like him around you.". He looks like a contrived little boy and you have the urge to laugh and kiss him, you tease him softly, "Jealous? Don't tell me you feel a little territorial already.." and.. he feels his heart do something. Is it skipping beats? Is it sinking? Whatever it's doing, he doesn't like it. He doesn't like the casual feeling he's getting. He's not making himself clear. Of course he isn't. He brought you to his house instead of yours, allowed you to care for his wounds which led to him finally losing his control and kissing you. That kiss led to you losing your clothes and ending up on his rug panting for air. So far, he has done nothing that says 'I want you'. All he's done is say 'I'm horny'. And he doesn't like it. He doesn't like that you might just want casual sex from him, he'd give it to you, oh, he so would. He's a fool for you, he'll do anything you ask, but.. he wants you. All of you. He wants more than just occasional sex. There's a need to make you his in his chest, something he's been trying to control, but he can't hold it back anymore.. he says, serious, "As a matter of fact, yes. Yes, I am. I'm territorial over you. Because I don't like to share. Never did. I was an incredibly selfish boy and I'm not ashamed to say I'm an incredibly selfish man too. I see things I want and they're mine on sight, so I don't take kindly to others forcefully trying to share them." and… your breath gets caught in your throat. Feminism has exited the chat, all of your foremothers are watching over your shoulder with curious eyes right now. You've always been self assured, strong in your convictions, you've never allowed a man to think he owns you or even had the chance to think such thoughts. But.. you're a fool for this man. You would bark if he asked you to, you don't care. He brings something out in you that turns feral. You want him so badly that you'd crawl if he asked. You whisper his name, unsure of what to say, you don't know if he means.. "I like you. In fact, I more than like you. I want you in my life. I've wanted it for a while now and it drove me crazy to think of that fucker touching you. I've been trying to find a way, to get an excuse, to bring you to me. I don't know how to do this the right way, there is no right way, I'm confused because.. I have never felt like this. You throw me off balance, I don't know how to act around you. I've been flirting with you for months now and you're oblivious to me. So, at first I assumed that you didn't want me, and I respected that. Kept my actions the same because I didn't want you to see that I was hurt but.. after what just happened today.. I think you want me. Or maybe you just think I'm really good in bed, I guess that's an option too and I'll respect if you don't want me. But I want you. A lot. What I'm trying to say here is: I think I'm falling for you and I would like you to give us the chance to see where this goes. And we can do this really simply: will you stay the night?" you look into his eyes, his eyes are beautiful, more so after he's just confessed his feelings. You feel the same and you suddenly see flashes of where your lives could go if you accept his offer. You see them reflected in his beautiful eyes. A soft smile appears on your lips as you say "Of course I will."

[that-was-anticlimactic]

hi corey :^) i'd love to see three sentences from 'how to (legally) obtain a tractor in one week' because the name sounds great! also hope you're doing well mwah <3

hiiiiiiiiii!!! this is a bsd fic i'm working on where kenji gets homesick and dazai thinks the best solution is for everyone to get a tractor and have a tractor show <3

“Yo, Doppo!” Chuuya called, stalking forward. “Where’s your tractor?”

Kunikida gestured to the tiny toy tractor in Kenji’s hands, face red once more.

“Aw,” Chuuya smirked. He grabbed Kunikida’s collar and pulled him down. “I could’ve bought you one, too, you know.”

poor kunikida - his boyfriends like embarrassing him iuygfcdftgyhuihygtf

[casdeans-pie]

Started writing this thing, shamelessly casting aside my other wips while the brainworms are eating me alive......

‘Dean Winchester, Welcome to Cabin Plume – please make yourself comfortable and treat it as you would your own home. This cabin has seen its fair share of love and loss and has helped me to understand myself and escape from the world outside. Despite me personally no longer needing its magic, the people who I have rented it to have found it enlightening, and it has been the temporary home to many writers and people wanting to find themselves within this special location. I hope that it can give you the same experience. Just as a caution – please do not wander into the woods alone. Do not be alarmed if you hear noises from within the trees, as while you are in the grounds of the cabin, you are perfectly safe, but do not be tempted to follow them and investigate. There are no paths beyond this point, and it is very easy to get lost and turned around. These woods are very special, as they are home to many species of birds you wouldn’t find living together elsewhere, and if you are lucky, you may be able to spot some. Again, please do not be tempted to seek them out or follow them any further than the gate at the bottom of the garden. Lastly, I make this offer to everyone that stays here – this cabin is something I am looking to sell to the right buyer, so please take that into consideration during your stay and do not hesitate to contact me about purchasing. I’m sure we can work out some kind of deal. I built this cabin myself so I am not looking to make money on it, I just want it to go to someone who will love it like I did. My number is on the back of this note. Enjoy your vacation, Cain.’ Dean flips over the note and pulls his phone out his pocket to punch the number in. It’s not like he’s even considering buying the place – but the number could be useful if an appliance breaks down, or he needs directions. Or gets lost in the woods… The ominous repeated warnings about going into the forest should have set off alarm bells, but all it’s done is made him want to go inside and investigate. At least the cabin’s weird bird theme makes sense with that cryptic message about the birds, but now he’s made the place sound like fucking Narnia or something and Dean can’t help but be curious. The bed dips down when Dean sits heavily on the end, rereading the note one more time before he stuffs it into the side pocket of his duffel bag. The phrases about ‘finding yourself’ are rattling around his mind, and he finds himself wondering if that’s what he’s here to do. He feels like he hasn’t ‘been himself’ for a long time, so maybe this will be the chance to find out what that means.

well well well what's in the woods Dean

what's in the woods????

The classic tale of man finds injured bird, man brings home bird to patch it up, bird turns out to be a were-bird creature, bird then imprints on man and won't leave Bird man creature kinda hot. Man considered sexuality and level of patience

[foxgloveciara]

here's some classwork I did the other day that I like.

I call it "I forgot that I was supposed to colour it without mixing the pastels despite my teacher telling me and only remembered when colouring the desk"