#anyway i was such a little bug my eyes were so big and brown

[skrunksthatwunk]

rediscovered a sort of yearbook from when i was in early preschool, so like maybe 3 y/o and there's questions about like. what's your dad's name? what's your mom's favorite color? and stuff and pretty much every single answer is wrong EXCEPT what i was for halloween. i was a spider princess and it was awesome

anyway look at some of these answers though

i'd give it an A for effort personally. anyway join me next time for my stone soup recipe

[cantgetworsethanthistbh]

fluffy kid!stancest first kiss on glass shard beach would be so cute maybe by the swings or when they first find what would become the stan o war

combining these two together, but 2nd anon PLEASE know your ask got me writing old stancest at first that immediately turned hurt and comfort, so i'll be posting that when i actually finish it udndhdhdu this one is a bit of a rush job, BUT i hope you guys like it! this is my first time writing kid stancest, trying to run my head over how boys just banter and this is the best i could relay lmao. also if ford's internal dialogue isnt as flowery as it ought to be, it's mostly because i do still want it to sound like it's coming from a child, and i imagine Ford's internal dialogue wasn't fully realized until he's at least a littls older, you know?

anyway enough stalling: please enjoy!

~~~

Ford thinks he could stay like this forever.

Sitting on a crate, Stanford watches Stanley draw on the sand with the end of a big stick, planning all their great adventures when they finally get out of this place, the promise of their Big Day of Adventure made them giddy all day, bouncing on the heels of their feet all over the beach until the deck guys they "borrowed" a can of paint from earlier found them, chasing them off and forcing the two of them to take cover. They did, only belatedly realizing they had to come back for their ship since their dream did rely on them fixing up the boat to be in top condition for it to sail. Luckily they didn't take their ship, so the two of them were able to push it back into the alcove they found it, keeping it their own little secret.

Ford looks at it in awe again. In bold letters, "The Stan O' War" stares back at him. Their promise of the future. A future with his brother, forever

"And then— Poindexter are ya listening?!" Stan asks, tapping the stick lightly on Ford's head who swats it away with a laugh.

"Yeah, yeah! I am, I am!"

"Good, cuz you better hear this!" Stan resumes drawing on the sand. Ford looks down, tilting his head quizically.

"Why are we standing on top of the sun?"

"That's an octopus!" Stan points to the pile of squigly lines Ford thought had been the ocean. "See?"

"That's still kinda impossible."

"Aw, shuddap!" Stan scoffs playfully, then proceeds to draw fish tails with long noses and circle ends.  "Of course its possible! This is after I killed it, and we're doin' a victory cheer on top of it!" Stan pumps his fist in the air, and begins chanting, echoing loud across the alcove: "PINES! PINES! PINES! And after—"

"Wait, how did we kill it?"

"I beat it up, duh!"

"What did I do?"

Stan huffs. "You math, science and bored it to death, you big nerd," he says with an annoyed expression, which quickly gives away to snickers as he dodges the fistful of sand Ford throws in his direction, leaving a grainy cloud in its wake. Stan points back at his drawing, at the long nosed fish with lines protruding off the top. Until Ford blinks, and tilts his head again, realizing that the messy scribbles are probably meant to be... "Anyway, after we totally beat this giant octopus monster, all the mermaid babes will be all over us! They'd give us kisses, and hugs, and and–"

Covering his mouth with his hand, Ford snorts loudly. "Stanley... you want to kiss fish ladies?"

An offended look crosses Stan's face, and if it wasn't for the sunburn already staining his and Ford's skin an angry, blistering red, Ford could swear Stan was blushing, his cheeks puffing, brown eyes wide and fists clenching. Cute, Ford thinks, so quickly, he almost doesn't catch it.

But he does.

Just like how his shoulder catches Stan's fists, sending him to more fits of giggling as he goes down.

"Shaddup, shaddup, shut uuuuuuuup," Stan continues his playful assault, clearly trying to not to smile, but Ford's laughter catches him like the infectious bug that went around school three months ago, and his grin stretches wild as he pushes Ford to the ground, and planting himself on Ford's short legs. Ford's hand land on his shoulders, trying and obviously failing at pushing off his stronger brother with all his twelve fingered might, but maybe it's because Ford is laughing too much he's out of breath, chest shaking while he heaves his giggles. Maybe it's the weird but nice heaviness Stan is forcing on him, and Ford counts that as the fifth time this day Stan made him feel that: 'weird but nice.'

Yesterday was seven whole times.

"Get off me, jerk!"

"You're the jerk," Stan argues, catching Ford's hands and pinning them down to the sand, grinning at Ford who's completely caught under him. "You've been making fun of me the whole time!"

"No I wasn't! I think it's cool you wanna kiss fish ladies!"

"They're not fish ladies, Sixer! They're mermaids!" Stan argues, looking a lot like Ford when he exasperatedly explains that solving the daily crossword on the newspaper is not lame, just with the additional large gap between his teeth, bandage on his face, cute puffy cheeks, which almost sends Ford to another laughing fit. "Mermaids are cool! No, they're hot!"

"If you say so," Ford shrugs, feeling the soft grains of sand move against his back. "They'd smell like fish though, but I think you would like that."

"Pfff," Stan lets go and straightens up to blow a raspberry, tilting himself to flop onto the sand next to Ford, moving so his fingers brushed Ford's when at their hips. Sixth. "Like you're any different. I bet you have a lot of weird stuff you wanna kiss too. You're obsessed with your ano– anama—"

"Anamolies."

"Aliens. I bet you wanna kiss aliens."

"No I don't!"

"Yeah, you do!"

"I don't," Ford insists, but he's definitely thought about it. Not in a weird way, of course. He wonders about kissing a lot of things, like growing boys do, like the health developmental sections of science books say so! Girls. Boys sometimes.

Boys most of the time.

A boy, most of the time.

"If you say so," Stan repeats dismissively, stretching his arms over his head while Ford watches behind his glasses. Feeling the sand starting to get to that 'pointy, sticky and annoying' state when someone lays on it, he sits up, eyes landing on the Stan O' War again. Stan follows, quickly sitting up.

"What'cha thinking of?"

"Just wondering the capability of weight distribution on the boat."

"Uh...."

"I wonder if it's actually strong enough to hold us up to sail. We're gonna have to fix that up before we take it to the water, remember? Maybe it's not even built for two people."

The last part came out of his mouth without thinking, and Ford is alarmed with the quick moment of doubt. For a second, their dream seemed a little impossible.

Stan pushes himself up, and runs to the stationed boat.

"Stan? What are you—"

"Keep up, Sixer!" Stan exclaims, grabbing onto the ledge of the boat, and suddenly Ford is running after his brother. All caution thrown out of his system when Stan lifts himself over the edge and on top of the boat's deck effortlessly.

"Stan!"

"Look, Ford, it's fine!" Stan exclaims, arms spread wide and standing victoriously. Ford grabs hold of the ledge, and tries to lift his legs over, only to almost fall off with a "Whoa!"— until Stan's hand latches onto his.

"Hold on," Stan tugs until Ford's body lifts high enough for him to wrap his arms around Ford's shoulders. He grunts, pulling the rest of his twin's body with all his strength before falling onto the deck, Ford landing on top of his legs.

Somehow, they find themselves almost exactly as before, just in reverse, skin still grainy and sticky and hot-red, Ford's chest shaking again but this time it's from panting in the short burst of physical activity. His face close to Stan's, Ford feels a bubbling in his chest, a little tingle all over his skin. One he wants to blame on the summer heat still simmering outside the cave or maybe the sunburn all over his back and torso, but it's not that.

Seventh.

"You're kinda heavy for a stick, Sixer."

Ford punches his shoulder this time, smirking. "Shut up, jerk."

"Now you hate it," Stan comes back smugly, then glances down at the deck. "Hey, look! It can hold the both of us after all!"

Remembering his previous concerns, he looks down on the boat, then raps his knuckles onto the floorboards. It's actually pretty sturdy for how old Ford theorized it to be. That's pretty cool.

"Guess we can cross that out of the stuff we have to fix up," Ford concludes. He pushes his glasses over his nose, thinking deeply again. "Still have a lot of stuff to consider though. Plus, who knows how much bigger we'll get too..." He muses, mostly to himself.

So many to consider... Ford doesn't think even his freakish hands could count all the ways it could go right, or wrong, if it goes anywhere at all... it's kind of big, and open, and Ford thinks it's almost like the ocean itself.

"Eh, don't worry about that stuff so much, Sixer," Stan shrugs, his voice breakjng through Ford's train of thought. Ford realizes he's still very much on Stanley's legs, and maybe it's because all the running, pushing, wrestling they've done all day that completely wrung him out, or maybe it's because the warm bubbling in his chest that overflows and keeps his own legs stuck like sap, but unlike Stan, Ford can't bring himself to move off, move away from Stan. His brown eyes wide, grin with a goofy gap in the teeth and cheeks puffing, Stan looks ready to sail off right then and there.

"As long as you've got me, we can do everything. We're getting out of this place no matter what."

Ford smiles warmly. Somehow he could never get tired doing that around his brother and that's weird. It's nice. His hands find Stan's shoulders, and without thinking, he blurts out:

"Stanley... It wasn't aliens."

"Wait, wha—"

And Ford presses his lips to Stan's. He doesn't really know how to do this. It's kinda gross, with Stan tasting like sand and sweat from rolling around it all day, but so did Ford and getting past that, it just feels good. Almost on instinct, he pulls away panic rising at throat, because Oh no, Stan will think I'm a freak too.

But Stan leans forward too, almost knocking Ford's glasses away and also not knowing what he's doing, but it feels nice. Really, really nice.

Eighth.

Ford thinks he could stay counting those forever.

~~

If you like this send another prompt or a prompt of your own! Hope you liked this anons, be it sufficiently fluffy enough lmao

[ominouspuff]

Tears on Kamino

CC-2224 didn’t know why the other boy was crying, but he didn’t need to. All he needed to do was pull his fingers over a shaved scalp, slowly so as not to startle, and try not to let on how curious he was to see the way the tears dripped in odd shapes down the hot, red, twisted face.

They were hidden, huddled up together — actually hidden, not just sticking to shadows in the open, because if tears weren’t, the odds were against them that things would get official, and nothing good ever came of something getting official. The closets had no cameras nor microphones, and the one they’d crammed into (seventh basement level, thirty paces from Engineering and the guards at its door) was in disrepair — was in line for being decommissioned, in fact. The Kaminoans were meticulous.

But it wasn’t decommissioned yet, so CC-2224 knew it would be the perfect place the instant that he’d pieced together that his new companion was about three seconds away from bursting into tears. They’d made it to the door in under two, but it had taken a bit of jostling and bony elbows jammed into sensitive places that might’ve accelerated the whole ‘tears’ business. 

They were here now, anyway, and they were safe. CC-2224 considered the maneuver a success.

“Hey,” He said, and it was a useless thing to say but he’d heard that the majority of what was said to crying things was supposed to be useless. Apparently there was something distracting and comforting about just — being chattered to. So CC-2224 did his best. “Our rations are made from bugs. I would’ve guessed fish, but they don’t have the nutrients. Plus fishing is a dignitary sport anyway-”

“Would you - shut up -” The other boy interrupted wetly, heaving with great big breaths that diminished his chest to half its size with every gasp. His face was — if possible — redder than before. His brown eyes were sharp, and they were glaring at CC-2224 from beneath his brows, hardened with a painful-looking panic. “Just- stop talking.”

CC-2224 digested this request (such as it was) in silence, weighing the odds that the boy knew better than he did what was needed. He scrutinized the glare in the dim lighting, but it was clear and steady enough. CC-2224 nodded agreement, lips sealing tight. He kept stroking the shorn head, the space so tight between them that all he had to do was swivel his wrist a little — the boy hadn’t asked him to stop that, and he hoped he wouldn’t think to.

He signed with his free hand instead of speaking, furrowing his brow to clarify it was a question.

The boy’s glare wilted slightly as he focused on tracking the signs. Finally he blew out a shaky gust of air. “CT-7567.” He said, and it was very strange to hear him try to put firmness and confidence into it when he could still barely breathe without hiccuping. “You could tell that by checking my code anyways.” He explained defensively — as if he thought CC-2224 might judge him harshly for revealing it or pounce on some kind of opportunity.

Then again, if CC-2224 hadn’t just dragged them both into a protected space, it would’ve been smart to be suspicious — and he would have had to investigate a bit to find the other boy’s code. Seeing as CC-2224 had done all sorts of helpful stuff, though, the second-guessing was a poor show — one that immediately made CC-2224 that much more certain that CT-7567 had been crying because he was an idiot.

He’d heard that, in some places, ‘idiot’ was just an insult. It wasn’t that way on Kamino. Idiots didn’t last long; the Kaminoans were, after all, meticulous about utility. Closets weren’t the only things getting decommissioned. Pretty common reason to cry as far as CC-2224 figured, and it would explain their current predicament.

It was enough to grim up any vod, but there might be hope yet. 

CC-2224 settled his back against the wall, breathing deeply, and imagined he could see the sim-walls — that he could read the fake mission update on the holo, letters glowing, challenging him to find a way to beat it. (Pretending helped him think faster. Being too confident was a weakness, but if CC-2224 knew anything, it was that he was very good at this.)

There were immediate gaps in information he needed for the mission’s resolution — holes that needed filling before he could pick the next direction. His hand moved almost of its own accord, signing fast and hard. 

CT-7567 watched, his breathing evening out by painful increments, brows furrowed in concentration where another cadet would have followed easily. (CC-2224 held his breath at what that might indicate about CT-7567’s intelligence, and he resisted an urge to suck his teeth.)

“Stop, stop,” CT-7567 finally snapped, flapping a hand right into the middle of the signs. “They haven’t taught us that, yet — I only know pieces. Talk instead.” 

“Oh, good, I thought you were stupid.” CC-2224 said in relief, and startled when the other boy hit him hard on the shoulder. “What? It’s not uncommon. If you had been, you’d be dead soon.” He snapped, narrowing his eyes and leaning backwards.

CT-7567’s red face blanched, both splotchy and pale at once, and CC-2224 nearly got distracted by how different it made him look. Later. He could think about it later, when CT-7567 wasn’t in danger anymore.

“Stop panicking.” CC-2224 said, and it came out a bit nasty, but his shoulder was still aching. CT-7567 hit hard. “What’s your defect?”

CT-7567’s fear turned to outright terror, but they were so far beyond that now it was almost silly to see. CC-2224 was no Kami, nor a Good One — if he had been, he’d have reported CT-7567 from the start just to get an edge.

(Among clones, it was a taboo question. It still got asked, but only as a last resort; usually quietly, to a terrified boy in a corner with several others hemming him in, trapping and shielding all at once. Tell us, the braver ones would say, maybe we can help. 

Sometimes they did help. Other times they made things official. ‘Identifying and reporting issues’ was something high-functioning property was supposed to be good at. They liked how following procedure made things easier for them, and if it didn’t come at the expense of another clone, CC-2224 might not have blamed them.)

CT-7567 stared at him like he’d damned the name of Nala Se herself. But just as CC-2224 was bracing himself to hear something stupid, like ‘what defect?’, CT-7567’s eyes narrowed and his spine straightened and CC-2224 suddenly knew — 

‘Idiot’ wasn’t the defect. The defect wasn’t even in that category. CT-7567 was just smaller than CC-2224 had figured, and there was something more serious going on — something big and obvious and unfixable that made little things helpless the bigger they got, the more it grew, the harder it was to conceal. Helpless vod got desperate, and sometimes acted like idiots, but that didn’t make them one. 

“You’ve got your hand on it.” CT-7567 said cryptically, but blessedly (for the sake of CC-2224’s dwindling patience and proportionally increasing anxiety) followed up with: “My hair. It’s wrong; gets white splotches when it grows.”

Ah. Actually, CC-2224 knew something about things like that. “That why you have it shaved?” He clarified. The buzz felt nice under his fingers.

“Yes.” CT-7567 muttered. “But the splotches are getting bigger.”

Bleaching. CC-2224 knew even more about that, though not from experiencing it personally. 

Bleaching was common. It meant that hair began to lighten in odd places or patterns — usually before maturity, but some unfortunates were late bloomers.

CC-2224 had once caught a glimpse of a fully fledged CT being transferred on a hover bed to decommissioning, hair speckled with white. It had been a shock to realize it could happen that late — that they couldn’t be sure they were safe, even after maturing.

There were some solutions he knew of already, but they were difficult, and resources limited. Even the best ones relied on luck so heavily that CC-2224’s nose wrinkled, and he bent himself to the task of thinking up other solutions. 

Five minutes of silence and thoughts and buzz beneath his fingertips ticked by before CT-7567 brought CC-2224’s awareness abruptly back into the closet. 

“Your fingers are trembling.” He said, so much steadier now — maybe because he was focusing on someone else’s problem. CC-2224 knew the feeling well; if a clone wasn’t careful, they could get obsessed with it, to the point they forgot to take care of their own business entirely — and that ended in death too, of one sort or another.

“They do that,” He said distractedly, stifling the spark of irritation that being interrupted ignited in his chest — like a petty little mouth full of sharp teeth, nipping at his ribs. He focused on the buzz beneath his fingers. “They do it when I’m thinking. I like solving problems.”

“Oh.” There was a lot in that ‘oh’, but CC-2224 couldn’t spare much brainpower to track it — he was using it on other things. Then, after a pause, CT-7567 quietly said: “Thank you.”

“Haven’t solved anything yet. Thank me when I do.” CC-2224 pointed out — this time with significant impatience at being interrupted — and CT-7567 grunted in acknowledgement of the wisdom behind that, at least.

CC-2224 thought harder, holding his jaw carefully loose so he wouldn’t chew his lip. The silence stuffed his ears full, and he danced from idea to problem, from solution to unexpected flaw, until there were no more flaws and his lip hurt because he’d forgotten not to chew it.

The closet came back into clarity, and CC-2224 stilled his shaking hand. He couldn’t quite contain his grin, though. “Got it.” He said — and because he really did have it, he let his pride show. With luck, it would help reassure CT-7567 it was true, and he’d be confident instead of second-guessing everything. “C’mon. We’re going to need a few things.”

They spent the next few minutes trying to do damage-control on CT-7567’s unbelievably splotched face. 

CC-2224 donated his socks to the cause, wetting them in the sanitization pump (it leaked on his bare feet, but he offered that up as a painful necessity), and wiping the tears away methodically. CT-7567 bore it stoically, every ounce of his will bent on forestalling more tears — and he managed it. His skin went back to normal and his pinkish eyes cleared up. They couldn’t help the swelling of his lids and nose, but that was a manageable risk.

CC-2224 did some rinsing and ringing out, then put his slightly soggy socks back on, sealing his boots up just as he would for a dry pair, already resigned to the blisters. CT-7567 dithered a bit, watching with a distracted nervousness and looking ready to suggest they wait out the swelling too, but wisely thinking better of it. They’d been in the closet for fifteen minutes already; any longer would definitely be too much of a risk for being noticed.

“On me.” CC-2224 said authoritatively once he was done with his boots, and at first it felt silly to include the other boy in pretending, but CT-7567 straightened and took it seriously and calmed in an instant, and CC-2224 felt vindicated that he’d guessed the right approach — that he wasn’t the only one who liked this tactic. 

“Sir yessir.” CT-7567 said — and the unexpected honorific hit CC-2224 like a battering ram. 

It felt — Bad. Strange. His mouth dried, and he blinked slower so he could hide a moment in the black behind his lids. 

Mission, they were on a mission, and CC-2224 was a commander, like he was supposed to be. He needed his brain working fast and his CT obeying faster, if this was going to work. 

“Let’s go.” He croaked, a bit hoarse, a bit excited. (His hands still trembled a bit when he opened the door.)

[captain-mj]

I’m gonna need Roacj to come and sweep Simon off his feet and Soap to be heart broken and full of regret. He doesn’t deserve Ghost

Why not!! Previous part for my folks interested

Ghost had listened to Price for once and he hadn't touched Soap's messages. Eventually, they slowed down, but eight days after the incident and he still received one each morning and each night. They ran into each other a few times, but Ghost would simply walk right past him.

Price managed to get Ghost permission to use his flat, due to how close base was, for the next little while which was a huge relief for him.

It had gotten late at night and Ghost had taken another "special cigar" from Price and he checked the most recent message from Soap. Just the most recent one.

"Please, Si, talk to me. It won't happen again." From two hours ago.

Ghost thought it over and then texted back. "Soap, we're not going to work out. Easier for us both to cut our losses."

"That's all you have to say? We exchanged I love you's. I wanted to be with you for the rest of my life."

"And how many people this week have you given that line too, huh? Either zip it or get blocked."

When another message came through, he went to his most recent messages with Price. "I want to go on that date. With Bug or whatever his name is."

"Roach, but yeah. I can make it happen." Price answered a little too fast and Ghost decided he didn't want to know why he was still up at this hour. He blocked Soap for the time being and enjoyed the rest of his high until he managed to fall asleep.

By morning, he had received the information for a reservation at 7 pm at a restaurant he liked well enough. A little more formal than he'd choose for a first date, but he planned to use Price's card for it anyway. Ever since Graves started funding the man, he had more money than he really needed and Ghost was more than happy to help him with the problem.

He didn't unblock Soap to see how many new messages he sent. He simply left his phone on his dresser and went about his day until 6. Only then did he check his phone to see a message from a new number. "Hey, Ghost! This is Roach (or Bug lol). I wanted to text you before we went on our date."

Ghost winced when he saw the poor guy had sent that message had been sent hours ago. "Left my phone in my room."

It took a few minutes before he heard the little ding of his phone. "That's alright. I know you're a busy man. Are you planning on wearing your mask tonight?"

Then a selfie came and Ghost regretted not taking Price up on this blind date sooner. Roach had his mask on, but his eyes and hair were free. He was so cute. Ghost didn't usually use that word to describe men, but that's what Roach was.

Big brown eyes and the hint of freckles. Soft looking hair that curled and stuck up everywhere. "I wanted to make sure you knew what I looked like."

Ghost hesitated before sending a picture of himself, just a medical mask on so they were on semi equal footing.

"You're just as handsome as Laswell said you would be."

His heart did something weird. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. "Thanks. You're not bad yourself."

"You flatter me, Ghost. I do need to talk to you about something before we go tonight."

Ghost gritted his teeth. "Alright."

"I'm mute. I carn hear just fine and I'm willing to text or write things down."

"Do you know BSL?"

"The basics. I mostly use ASL."

"We'll use BSL until I'm better ASL then. I'll meet you tonight, I'm going to get dressed before I'm late. It would be a horrible first impression."

Roach responded with a thumbs up. Unknown to Ghost, Roach was glad for the reprieve because Ghost casually letting him know he'd just learn a language for him before they even went on a first date (as well as letting him know they had an easy way to communicate until he finished learning the language) had his own heart doing palpitations. And that was before he even thought of Ghost's picture again.

Handsome had been understating it. He had wanted to actually ask Ghost if he wanted a new dog because he could be a really good one. But Laswell and Price had let him on the fact that Ghost's last relationship hadn't ended very well and that he'd need to be eased into it a little. So he pulled himself back and gave a much more calm response.

Both of them met each other in the front of the restaurant while waiting for host to seat them. The sparks were immediate, Ghost finding himself having a hard time looking away from Roach's eyes.

Roach pulled out Ghost's seat which surprised him a little. He still sat down though and hummed his appreciation. "Also, I'll be paying. More accurately, Price will be paying."

Even with only half of his face showing and no voice, Roach was easily the most expressive person Ghost had ever seen. They found ASL and BSL had more common signs than they first thought, but occasionally they'd run into signs with different or even contradictory meanings that would make them bring out their phones to compare.

"Oh, do you want me to order for ya? I can't imagine it's that easy ordering." While Ghost was sure that the staff would try to be accommodating, if Roach didn't want to deal with it, he'd be happy to help.

Roach immediately looked relieved and nodded, showing Ghost what he wanted. He was leaning forward and Ghost could see the start of the scar at the base of his throat that led underneath the mask.

Roach was incredibly smart. Not that Soap wasn't, he was mad at him, but he didn't think he was stupid as some people joked. But Roach had such in depth knowledge about a long, long list of topics and he didn't shy away from learning more about any gaps.

Occasionally Roach would single for Ghost to pull his mask down. He almost managed to keep the waitstaff from seeing his face at all, though there were a few times Roach had visibly been too wrapped up in what he was saying to notice when one of them was coming. He was less shy about showing his face than Ghost, though he clearly didn't like it.

They spent so much time talking, about how different insects are classified and the differences between British and American branches and what it's like being mute in the military, especially since his muteness was caused by an injury from the military, that the waitress had to not so subtly interrupt to ask if there was two bills or one.

Ghost told her one and gave her Price's card, eyes never leaving Roach's. He didn't want the night to end. "Do you want to go somewhere else?"

Roach signed back. "Want to get milkshakes and walk around somewhere?"

Ghost thought that was a very bizarre thing to do. "Yeah. Why not."

So they left. They hired an uber and kept talking, switching to only sign language so the poor driver wouldn't hear them arguing over the superior breakfast food. Ghost didn't actually believe it was beans on toast, but he knew he drove any not from Britain crazy. Roach was insisting it was biscuits and gravy. Eventually, the bug brushed him off and said he'd make them for him in the morning.

"Oh? That convinced we'll go home together?"

Roach glanced at him. "If it's not moving too fast for you."

Ghost blinked at him, stopping and actually thinking about it. "Yeah. I'd like to take you home."

Roach smiled. "You owe me a milkshake first though."

Ghost did in fact buy him a milkshake, with his own card even, before they walked around a park. At one point, Roach motioned at Ghost's milkshake a few times and Ghost offered him a taste. Roach tried his chocolate malt and nodded appreciatively. He offered his banana milkshake for Ghost to try. They didn't break eye contact as he tried it.

"It's good."

Roach smiled at him and moved a little closer. He used just one of his hands, but he signed it real slow. "Want to see what they taste like together?"

Ghost was kissing him before he even finished.

They did, in fact, go back to Ghost's flat and got very acquainted with his bed specifically.

And Roach did make him biscuits and gravy in the morning. Ghost reluctantly admitted that it beat beans on toast. Then, he admitted he didn't actually like beans on toast.

Roach hit his shoulder rather hard and ate with a little faux anger until that got boring and he was back to talking. Well, in between bites of food.

When the doorbell rang, Ghost's heart sank. "Not many people have my address." He grabbed a gun.

Roach looked a little amused at the weapon but nodded and made a motion for his own. Ghost did indeed provide one to him before pullling on a mask and answering the door.

Johnny was there. He was only Johnny cause he was out of uniform. "Hey."

"Hi." Simon felt disillusioned. The past 12 or so hours had honestly been perfect. With Soap, he had always had to explain things. Push back. There was always an effort on both parts to make the other feel comfortable. And while Roach seemed more than willing to put in effort and Ghost definitely felt he would, it didn't feel necessary to. They just kinda... fit in a way Ghost was realizing that he never did with Soap.

It was a weird thought. When he found out about Soap's casual fucking of half the base, he prepared himself to spiral. And he had even started. But now that he had a very successful date, and the most mind blowing night of his life cause Roach knew how to do things with his tongue, he felt like he had very suddenly just moved on. He didn't even notice it had happened. During his whole date, Soap hadn't crossed his mind at all.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine." Ghost responded, cause it was. While the memory still hurt and he wasn't sure he could work with Soap any time soon, it took more energy at this point to keep thinking about it. Energy he didn't want to keep spending on MacTavish. "Listen, I'm busy."

"Going somewhere? I can walk with you. I would like to... talk..." Soap was looking past Ghost now and directly at Roach.

"Ah. This is Sergeant Sanderson. He's American, visiting in the area for a mission Laswell sent him on."

"And he's wearing your clothes?"

"We also slept together."

Soap's face went through a range of emotions. Jealousy, guilt, a strange tinge of relief that Ghost didn't want to unpack, then anger that didn't fit the situation in Ghost's opinion. He didn't respond. It felt like they just ran out of things to say. "Simon."

Roach used the butt of the gun, tapping it against the wall. His eyes narrowed at Soap with a strangely dangerous look.

"Ghost."

Another tap against the wall.

"Lieutenant Riley." Soap hissed through his teeth.

Roach seemed satisfied with that, grabbing Ghost's arm and leaning against his side. He tugged his sleeve to get his attention and jerked his head back to show he wanted to get back to eating with him.

"Sorry, bug. If you want to go sit down, I'll only be another minute."

Roach didn't look sure but nodded. He grabbed Ghost's hand and gave it a small kiss through the fabric of his mask. Ghost wasn't sure he even knew when he put it back on, but he looked just as lovely either way.

Only when Roach was clearly gone, did Soap speak back up. "Replace me that fast huh?"

"At least I made it clear we were through before fucking him."

"Look-"

"No." Ghost cut him off and shook his head. "I don't want to fight. Truly, I don't. We're done. I don't want this. I don't want you."

Soap frowned more and there was clearly hesitation. "Si."

"I never liked that nickname. My brother used it when we were little. I realized last night you never asked. First thing Roach did was ask if I had any family left. He's incredibly considerate. He's so nice to me. Last night, he did things while we were out that I couldn't remember anyone doing for me before. The man made me breakfast for fuck's sake."

"I could've made you breakfast." It sounded vaguely petulant. A last plea of some sorts that fell flat before it even left his tongue.

"Yeah. You could've."

Roach had finished his plate and looked a little upset. He signed at him. "I didn't like how he talked to you."

"I saw. Don't like people calling me Simon."

Roach shook his head. "You're a lieutenant. They should call you that."

"They? You not included in that Sergeant?"

"I get special privileges."

"Cause you're pretty?"

"Cause I'm yours."

[marlynnofmany]

There’s No Aggression Like Passive Aggression

“So is this a food plant, or a decoration plant?” I asked, adjusting my grip on the clear case as I walked. “Or do we know?”

Zhee flicked an antenna. “Not my business.” He faced forward, businesslike, but with bug eyes that size, there was no need to turn his head.

Paint looked up from elbow height. “I think it’s food,” she said, giving the package a discerning stare. The alien flowers were a similar orange to her scales. “I’ve seen these at markets before. They’re expensive.”

“Makes sense,” I said. The private estate that we’d been walking across for some time now was covered in the most rigidly cultivated berry bushes I’d ever seen. Even the pathway was paved in thick moss, pruned to within an inch of its life. The owner of this place had both money and a fondness for plants. Especially edible-looking ones.

A berry dropped to the path ahead of us, then was snapped up by something that darted out of the undergrowth. I couldn’t tell you if it was an animal or a robotic gardener.

“Don’t ask the client,” Zhee said. “Keep that curiosity to yourself. Best behavior and extreme politeness.”

“Right,” I agreed. “Soooo… any tips on what that means for this particular culture? I haven’t met them before.”

Zhee walked stiffly, with only his shiny purple legs moving. “I haven’t either.”

I blinked. “What? I thought you were the expert.” I looked to Paint, but she was shaking her head.

“None of the crew has met them in person,” she said. “I think this whole area usually gets deliveries from a specific company, or individual, or something — anyways, it’s not us. We’re the last-minute replacement.”

“Uh-huh.” I held the bio-shielded case full of expensive plants a little tighter. “So they’re rich, probably important, and if we do anything to displease them, we’ll never make another delivery in this part of the system again.”

Zhee clicked a pincher arm. “Accurate.”

Paint spread her scaly hands in what was probably a calming gesture. “It shouldn’t be that bad,” she said. “We’ll just hand the package over quietly, and not make a fuss. We know some things about the client.”

“Do tell,” I said. “I wasn’t up front when the captain took the call.”

Paint ticked off points by counting on her knuckles. “The client is the only one who lives here, though she throws big parties. She didn’t seem to like talking more than necessary. She has very fancy fur patterns. Prey species.” Paint looked up a bit guiltily. “I misses the name of the species, but they eat plants, and evolved with some big predators that aren’t a problem anymore. Captain Sunlight said so.”

Zhee made a quiet noise that I interpreted as confidence that they wouldn’t have been a problem for him anyways.

“So I guess we’ll be polite by keeping quiet and not making any sudden movements,” I said. Then I looked at Zhee, with his shiny exoskeleton and natural blade arms. “If she looks afraid of you, hang back.”

Zhee scoffed, but paused to let Paint and me get a single step ahead.

We reached an archway woven with multicolored vines and dangling pea pods. The hedges on either side were crisply trimmed to an absurd degree. And through it was a sprawling meadow of lounging spots, fountains, and flowering trees. Dozens of locals socialized there in absolute silence. I hadn’t heard a thing aside from the fountains.

I froze at the archway, with Paint and Zhee right beside me. A couple of the closest partygoers glanced our way, then ignored us with body language that felt pretty rude, honestly.

They all had elaborately-patterned fur: mostly spots and swirls, in the gold-to-brown range. Proportions that seemed just as comfortable on all fours as on two. Tall ears like many a prey animal that I’d known, very mobile and expressive, speaking a language of tilts and twitches that I could only guess at. Big eyes.

Paint whispered, “That’s her by the big fountain, with the starburst swirl patterns.”

“Which? Oh, there. You’re sure?” Those definitely were some fancy patterns — did she get her fur dyed? — and the cushy spot surrounded by red berries did seem like a place of honor.

“Yes, I saw her on the call,” Paint said firmly. “Oh, and that one too! The captain said they’re having some sort of feud.” She pointed at an especially bright-furred party-goer who was approaching the host.

I shifted uneasily. “Why isn’t the captain doing this delivery?” I muttered.

“Busy,” said Zhee.

Paint sighed. “Busy. But look; I think they made up. We should be clear to approach.”

The golden-blonde local had strolled over to within a few lengths of the host, then flopped down to lounge in the sun, looking just as relaxed as anyone there.

Anyone but the host. I saw her nostrils flare, and thought of rabbits.

“Wait,” I said urgently, holding out a hand. Paint and Zhee stopped. “That might be a ‘I’m a happier rabbit than you’ move.”

“A what,” Zhee said, just as the host scrambled to her feet with an angry thump to the ground.

Every head there whipped around to watch. The blonde offender was also getting to her feet, but not fast enough; the host tackled her into a vicious tumble of fur and angry screeching.

Others dashed over, but the fight ended quickly, and the offender was ejected from the party. A half dozen others escorted her towards the archway with tense body language of their own.

We were still standing there like idiots. Paint and I jumped to one side and Zhee to the other, letting the procession pass. Once they had, everyone was looking at us instead.

Not my best entrance, but here goes, I thought as I stepped forward with the plant held front and center. I heard Paint and Zhee fall in behind me.

There was an unnerving amount of silent staring as we approached, but nothing outright hostile, and nobody seemed afraid of Zhee. Good enough.

The host of the party was back on her mossy cushion, plucking berries and eating them one at a time with an air of deliberate haughtiness. She’d smoothed her fur, though there were a few damp spots. She looked past me as I set down the case.

Normally I would have said something cheerful to the client at this point, a friendly greeting, maybe a compliment or two, but this time I just held out the ID pad. With hardly a glance, she pressed her delicately clawed hand onto the screen. The beep of confirmation felt loud.

I nodded, stood smoothly, then backed up a couple paces before turning away fully. The three of us made our careful way back through the archway.

“Whew,” I whispered once we were out of sight. “All the friendliness of a firing squad.”

Zhee walked ahead, muttering about mammals and unnecessarily complicated social rituals.

“I’ve seen worse,” I told him. “This was just a bit of passive-aggressive ego drama.”

Zhee waved an arm in disdain.

I didn’t comment on the kind of ego drama that he himself was fond of.

“I’m just glad we didn’t walk out into the middle of all that,” Paint said.

“Seriously,” I agreed. “Might have dropped the package. And then what would we do?”

“Pee, scream, and run,” Paint declared.

I thought of that many gnawing teeth aimed in our direction. “Yeah, probably.” I held up a hand and pointed out a tiny pale scar. “I got bit by a rabbit once. Well, more than once, but this one left a mark. She was much like these guys, just a lot smaller. Every inch the princess, mind you, but I have known some very nice rabbits too.”

I told Paint comforting stories on the walk back to the landing pad, with Zhee pretending not to listen, and both of us pretending that we didn’t notice.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come!

[eyesxxyou]

Stalker Spiderpunk/hobie brownx afab reader for you pretty boy (because i like telling people my ideas more then posting any idea/stories on my account) Smut ahead warning! Could kinds be seen as cnc, spiderpunk also gets more yandereish at the end. Still has mask mostly on, so reader doesnt fully know its hobie brown

A little flashback, Spiderpunk whose been watching, praying from afar you dont notice him. He sees how much you love him and appreciate his work but would you continue to do that if you found out he was stalking you? Since the one day he saved you hes been absolutely infatuated with you, by everything you do and how you look. Currently now he’s patrolling watching you go home. For you ever since the day the hero you adored saved you, youve felt like you were prey. Always being watched, it definitely raised your anxiousness high which would explain why your fiddling with a piece of jewelry you have. He thinks its quite cute of what your doing, his eyes and movements following yours as you get home. When your home he watches how you get out of stuff from your job feeling exhausted and changing into a tshirt of spiderpunk, one that was made by a small business that hobie loves. He know its wrong to watch you change but he cant stop, after a couple of minutes and your done he’s actually near your window and knocks on it. Hearing the noise you turn your head you see the neighbors friendly punk spiderman. Your eyes go wide as you open the window to let him in, worried if something happened to him. When you did that you wouldve never expected it to go the way it has now. Which current is you being tied like a bug in his spiderweb. Which kinda feels fitting since you were his prey, and well… he was your predator. Whose currently feasting on the way you taste. His warm tongue inside of you along with his fingers. The tongue piercing only adding more to your pleasure as his tongue and fingers curl together. You can also feel his lip piercings at your folds. But currently hes making you fold, already having your legs turning into jelly so hes holding you up with one hand on your thigh against your bedroom wall where your wrist are pinned with spiderwebs. Hearing you moan and whimper is like a praise to him, oh how he only wants to treat you how you deserve. How hes claiming you to be all his, each moan and whimper just more of a beg from you. In this little game of his, he plans to be the only winner. His mask is only up to his nose allowing it to where he can feast. His mask eyes look up at you, god do you look so gorgeous in that tshirt a small business made of it. God does it only get him more horny knowing you arent falling for big corporations lies. It only gets him going rougher. His hand thats currently fingering you he uses his thumb to press up against your clit, trying to enhighten your pleasure as his spidey senses go off. His spidey senses dying down when you cum in his mouth and on his beautiful face. He watches as your head is thrown back as you moan for spiderman. He enjoys every second of it and he removes his fingers and tongue, he licks the cum off his fingers. Moving his head back down so he gets every single drop you made for him.

He definitely doesnt plan to let you go, after cleaning you up and putting you in the bed he mumbles some soft words to you. The words are fulled with passion as he calls you his. He will do more with you another day but he wants to wait for that. Kissing your forehead tucking you in as he locks the window from the inside before moving out of it and shutting the window making sure its locked. He jumps away as your left their stunned on what just happened, but excited. While hes thinking about making sure no one gets close to who he loves, at least not to close anyway…

Id actually start making fanfics of him if i could write his damn accent (i cant yet guys gonna study him and his voice and accent more. But then again i fucking suck at accents okay. I dont even know if the thing as that good but… yeah)

-🍄

You don't have to wait until you get his accent, just write him normally. This is GREAT! You should definitely post it to your account!

[m4sonn]

° ˖ ✧ Sibling Quarrels ✧˖°

(This was the winner of the poll therefore the first story I make!! <33. I know @wtafmargot wanted to see this fic especially so I decided to tag them so they could see it faster!)

“B-but myeemmmm!! I have plans!! I can’t babysit Kiara!!!”

“Too bad, Keith, I have plans.”

“B-but cmon!! Please!! My friends are literally sitting here waiting to go!!”

Two-bit said as he put his hand a bit behind and to the right side of him to showcase a very awkward and embarrassed set of greasers standing behind him, Johnny’s head which had previously been awkwardly tilted down as he tried not to watch his friend fight with his mom instantly shot up upon attention being brought to him. Johnny looked to the side to Steve, while, meanwhile, was spaced out and in his own little world right now, he blinked back into consciousness and looked around, his face turning red upon realizing all the attention had turned to him.

“We can just leave, it’s no problem two, or your sister could come with us…?” Johnny said sweetly, trying to offer a compromise. Steve was about to throw a fit about ‘not wanting no damn little kids with them’ and ‘not wanting to babysit’ but Johnny gave him a sort of look which told Steve to shut the fuck up for once.

“I’m sorry boys but I just don’t want her going out, plus keith’d have to be home by 7:30 anyways cause that’s her bed time.” Two-bits mom said with a sweet smile. “You boys better get going, Keith can come next time.”

“Bu!-“ “zip it Keith.” “Ok….”

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

“So…. Uh… what do you do…” Two-bit said awkwardly as he looked down at his 6 year old sister “Where’s mommy?” She said with her big eyes as she looked up at her older brother. All two-bit could think was ‘Jesus Christ this bitch got some big ass bug eyes.’ Ever since Kiara got glasses her eyes have been 5x bigger thanks to them and two-bit could NOT get over how hilarious he thought it was. Keith had never had a really close relationship with his sister, Kiara, I mean, they’re 12 years apart so nobody could really blame him but his mom still wished they could’ve spent a bit more time together and hung out more.

“She had to go somewhere” “where” “I don’t know” “why don’t you know” “because I don’t” “why” “because” “but why”

Keith’s responses were basically cut off but how fast his sister piped out responses, starting to get overwhelmed already by her questions.

“I DON'T KNOW KIARA JUST STOP.”

He practically yelled. Kiara looked up at him with her big brown eyes and then bursted into tears. “No, no, no, Kiara I’m sorry… hey…. Hey… don’t cry….”

Two-but said in the softest voice he could manage. Kiara turned her back to him with a pout, sitting on the floor to cry. Keith picked her up off of the floor and tried to calm her down. “Hey, uhm, how about I make you grilled cheese…? Or— uh… want to go walk to the store and get some candy…?”

Upon the mention of candy, Kiara’s eyes lit up. She immediately agreed and off they went to the store. Keith had been trying to save up his pocket money for something he’s really been wanting for a while but… His sister was worth it to him. He let her pick out a few things and only got himself a soda and a bag of chips. They quickly headed home.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

“Two-bit!!” Soda said happily as he bursted into Keith’s front door. Opening his eyes to see two bit sitting across from his sister on a little kid’s table, a cup of weird looking unknown liquid in front of him. His face was decorated with very messy and smeared makeup and rhinestones. He had a pink tutu, a crown, and pink fairy wings over his clothes, his sister in a princess dress, fairy wings, and a crown sitting across from him. The rest of the gang pushed themselves through the door behind him. They all started to cackle upon seeing him. “HAHAHA- TWO BIT WHA?!-“ “she wanted to have a tea party” he said with a goofy smile on his face. “What are you guys doing here anyways?” “We decided that if you couldn’t come with us we’d stay with you” Dally said with a smile. Two-bit and his sister exchanged glances and had that same mischievous smiles on their faces. “Well… since you’re here… there’s enough fairy wings and tutus for everyone.” And after a bit they were all having a tea party.

[clavainov]

local insects roundup sept - oct

Shoutout to meadowhawks, sympetrum species. Although you see them around a lot, they are especially precious to me, because most dragonflies around here aren't flying this late in the year. Sure, the literature will tell you that most of them are around until October, but it's just not true for the ponds/rivers I like to frequent. By September most of the dragonflies are gone... but here's s. striolatum (left), peaking in September, like the beautiful friend they are ^_^ Look at their bicoloured eyes! This is an adult female, you can tell because although she's brown, she's got some blue under her abdomen. Some females even have red parts of their abdomen - there's a lot of fun colour variation in this species. The one on the right is probably s. sanguineum, the ruddy darter, with a Latin name recalling blood. They won't suck your blood, but this guy is like a charismatic anime vampire to me.

This is the sun fly (Helophilus pendulus). It's a hoverfly that likes to hang out near water, which is relatable (that's where you get amphibians, this guy knows what's up). Between its cool common name and bright colouration, I think it would be great to draw with a sun motif. Its aposematic colouration is definitely trying to trick you into thinking it's a wasp, but this guy is chill and harmless. What a charismatic bug!

The Eurasian hummingbird hawk moth (Macroglossum stellatarum) is a busy moth who loves to zip around and hover, usually appearing as a blur. But at this time of year, they're getting pretty old, so you can find these elderly folk on the floor and gently let them crawl on you. I love these lil geriatric moths. They are so fuzzy and soft!

This is the hornet robber fly (asilus crabroniformis), pictured eating a tasty grasshopper (probably an oedipoda species). Although they're predatory and having fun menacing people by pretending to be hornets (like the sun hover fly), they are harmless to humans. These guys are declining rapidly and considered endangered, which is so sad because look how majestic and badass they are, asilidae species are sooo shaped. Anyway, the main reason that they're declining is that they need cattle or rabbit dung to reproduce. I live in the (small) native range of the European rabbit (oryctolagus cuniculus)... and while those bunnies are prevalent everywhere they're invasive (which is a LOT of places), they are endangered here, so that's not helping. This one was in some pine forest near the sea, and local cattle were providing a nesting ground (thank you cattle for shitting on the floor, this is vital to the local ecosystem).

You just don't expect a giant locust and then the Egyptian bird grasshopper (Anacridium aegyptium, pictured top) shows up. Whoa! To me, they are called bird grasshoppers because they are the size of a bird (this is not true, they're 6.5cm at most, but that's big for us impoverished non-rainforest folk). These guys are great and I wish they would biblically plague my town so I could hold a bunch of them. Underneath we have some other cool orthopterans, a blue-winged grasshopper (probably an oedipoda species) and a red-legged grasshopper (Chorthippus binotatus), who has such a fun palette of bright green and red. What friends!

This is the hyaline grass bug (Liorhyssus hyalinus). It's beautiful, which is normal for a true bug. What a delicate little pattern with red spots and delicate iridescent wings on a cream background! This one is female. I couldn't find any cool facts about this species, so I'm officially declaring it criminally underrated. Hipsters should flock to this bug and put decals of it all over the cool places in town.

Bonus: the local calotriton asper colony are getting it onnnnn in their typical twisty way (I wanna see their larvae soon!!!) and the stunning limax maximus, or leopard slug who is like a beautiful cow:

[jacksonleavesthe0nly138472]

POV fiddleford:

Been camping before but didn't exactly like camping, mostly because of the bugs, I really don't like bugs. They scare me to death with here little exoskeleton faces and the way they move fast with here skinny legs. I would always choose making my machines for people without making any money. But today I will be camping by my own choice because I want to make sure Stanford safe. It's not like I don't want to keep my family safe too but here's something about Stanford, I started to notice him more after the break up with my ex wife. Stanford is the most handsome and stunning man I ever seen, even when he's rushing me right now and complaining like a child.

"Fiddleford we don't need pack a life worth of food" he stated as if it was the truth while waving his hands at the front door even though all I was packing was marshmallows. Was about to let this go and be responsible but being me, I yelled in annoyance "Gosh Stanford it's not like the marshmallows are going to kill you" Stanford started laughing "But you are eventually" I rolled my eyes then smiled to myself. Finally packed up everything in seconds, which was oh sooo long for Stanford to wait for.

As we were going out the door I didn't know if I forgot or Stanford didn't tell me why we were going camping, just guessed that we were looking for some monster. Thought to myself why don't I just ask, so I did "Hay ya Stanford why are we going camping anyway" Stanford raised his finger and answered in such a matter of fact way "Because Moth Man of course, silly." The name Moth Man gave me a scare until Stanford held up his journal which had a page of writing and also had a very well drawing of a realistic shadow man with bat wings, which was still scary but at least it wasn't a bug. Then I read what the journal said, come on why did the monster had to into moth's when you get in contact with it.

He puts the journal in his coat when he realised that my face looks terrified beyond belief and starts walking to find a good camping place.

Me and Stanford were walking in complete silence for such a long time, that we started walking when it was sunrise now it's sunset. It's kinda weird that for the hole time walking I never looked round to notice the forest scenery. The only thing I was focused on was how beautiful the orange red light looked on Stanford's soft mouse dark brown hair and how his skin looked so smooth but not soft at the exact same time. I was getting really tired, Stanford for some reason didn't look tired at all even after walking for a hole day being in the woods.

Once Stanford notice that I was tired he stopped and started to set up camp.

We finished setting up camp, here wasn't a lot of mosquitoes tonight but for some reason I'm not scared of mosquitoes. Luckily we were in the tent before more of them could bite. The tent that Stanford brought was small, it was big enough to fit two people but still small that it was hard to not to bump into Stanford. Don't know why Stanford cannot just buy another tent, he has enough money to buy a two story house with an basement.

It doesn't matter, what matters is getting some sleep which is hard to do with all the forest noises and the facted that we were looking for a bug monster.

Stanford tried to get me to carm down by cuddling me it did work a bit, than a loud screeching noise which just my luck it didn't sound far. I saw Stanford face trun into horror when he checked what was outside. He got up very slowly and tried to look as carm as possible but obviously failed, out of no were he kissed me before I had time process that happened.

I don't know what else to write

[shytastemakerthing]

Appearance: So I'm a 5'0 "African girl with black curly hair and brown eyes. My skin is actually tan, though. I have a pear body shape and slightly chubby. I apparently always look exhausted due to insomnia.

Likes :I like art and mythology, and history.

Dislikes: I hate loud places,bugs, and summer and my accent( I have quite a heavy Spanish accent because I was born there and lived there for years and moved to an English speaking country).

Personality: I am an introvert honestly and quite shy, but when you know me more, I can be quite loud. I don't actually like talking, though. I love watching drama unfold before me, though, like family gatherings. I laugh at pretty much everything. I'm socially aware, but I can get emotional if someone yells at me due to my anxiety.i can be quite lazy and prefer to stay at home. Another thing is that I can never take anything seriously, I can laugh in serious situations, and my humour is broken and quite dark.

Love language:My love language is physical touch and quality time.

A/N: Hello and thank you for this request! I will admit that I also do not like summer. As someone who sunburns far too fast despite sunscreen, hates very hot weather, and how nasty the air can feel, I can very much relate in that regard. Anyways, I hope that you like your match-up! Enjoy!

I was not sure which fandom this was for or if you wanted platonic or romantic, so I chose a romantic for Twisted Wonderland match-up for this request.

Tw: None

I match you with........

Azul Ashengrotto

I have a feeling that Azul was not exactly a big fan of the summertime, on the surface that is. Being an octomer who has spent the majority of his life within the much cooler ocean, his first summer on the surface felt like absolute hell. It was far too hot, everything was sticky and sweaty, he was always dehydrated, his skin was far more adapted to receiving sunlight beneath the waves, not above it, so I think he would sunburn easily.

Because of this, he would absolutely join you in the much more comfortable indoors during the blistering summer heat. Maybe you would like to join him in the Coral Sea? He could easily procure a potion to allow you to breathe beneath the waves and the temperature is much cooler and better yet, no bugs. While beneath the waves, you will not have to worry about a single bug.

Azul is a very emotional person, he just works very hard to keep them in check. As a child, he would cry over everything, especially if the bullies were involved. If he sees that a situation is getting far too overwhelming for you and your anxiety is starting to rise higher and higher, he quickly enlists the tweels in getting rid of what is causing this to happen (if it is a person), while he quickly whisks you away to either his dorm room or the VIP Lounge, which would have two different results.

If you were taken to his dorm room, he brings out a spare set of pajamas that he had purchased after he started dating you. Once changed, he lets you lay in his bed, all tucked in and cozy while he makes you a cup of tea with some small snacks. He will stay there with you until he knows that you are alright, or until you fall asleep (his bed looks so freaking cozy).

If you were taken to the VIP Lounge, he lets you lay down on one of the couches that are within while still getting you some tea and snacks. Azul would discard his jacket and opt to place it over you instead. You are free to stay within the lounge for as long as you please while he finishes some work that he needs to get done.

Overall, Azul would give your relationship 110% at all times while still being the charming businessman that he is. He ensures that you are well taken care of at all times and to make sure the day is less anxiety inducing as he can. He may mess up a little along the way but he really is trying, For you, he will always try.

[strawhatsoraya]

a brief note: this is purely self indulgent. kaia and i talk about luffy (and ace and sabo honestly) being islanders and in particular we have a headcanon of luffy being a country hick from puerto rico and she's been asking me for drabbles since 5ever and i haven't delivered so she gets one today because it's the least she deserves. this will be a very sporadic series. and i have so many different variations of this in my head who knows what i'll write next so. that being said lmao keep it scrolling if you're not interested. i just wanted an excuse to make a banner on canva.

featuring: (as per banner above it's luffy &&) island girl y/n. rating: rated G for g-spot--i'm kidding, it's PG. it's all good. don't be scared. word count: idk around 500. warning content: none, unless you're allergic to Spanish or culture in general.

001. Luffy

Country boy Luffy who grew up in the mountainous side of the island. He didn't have a mother or father to sing him to sleep. Instead, brown little tree frogs performed their iconic lullaby outside his window; coquí, coquí, coquí. It's a harmony so deeply ingrained in his mind that he didn't even perceive it until Garp's voice would break through the den den mushi asking him: “What's all that noise?”

As if he didn't know.

As if he had forgotten all his memories on the island.

Luffy. A Boricua, through and through. He is his most comfortable surrounded by the heat of the sun. His skin, sun kissed and tawny brown, was always covered in bug bites and scratches. He knew better than to challenge the mosquitos' hunger during their peak hunting hours but his pride was on the line. Luffy would turn it into a compliment instead. 'I'm just that sweet,' he'd tell anyone who challenged him to wear insect repellent. 'They just can't keep off of me.' At the mention of his scratches and bruises he'd shrug with a secret grin clinging to his lips. 'Tu sabe',' he'd start, dragging his syllables, his tongue heavy on his tongue as he barely pronounced his consonants. 'I was just messin' around. No big deal.'

The forest was his playground. He knew every tree, and every creek. He knew where to find the best earthworms for fishing, and where the river was the most shallow to cross. He knew that the nearest dairy farm was in the way of his shortest route to the swimming hole, and knew he'd be chased if he trespassed but did it anyway. He knew each bull that chased him, and knew every stray dog in the neighborhood.

He knew the neighborhood drunkard, and the lady who sold frozen cups of fruit juice out of her home for a few coins a cup. He knew the best way to eat them too—flipped upside down in the cup, while sitting on a hammock, not a care in the world.

There was so much he knew then, and so much he was unsure of as well.

He knew how Doña Edith's stewed kidney beans tasted but he couldn't picture the world past the view of the horizon; a melting sun sinking into a watercolor ocean. He knew what his abuelo wanted him to be, and yet all Luffy knew was that he wanted to be free.

A vague longing propelled him from the island he called home. He had no regrets. The friends he had made on the way filled even the empty spots he wasn't aware existed. Luffy finally felt like he was alive. He no longer had to seek out truths under mossy rocks, or atop mango trees—although he did miss the mangos.

The truths he sought were right there on the smiles of his nakama staring back at him. He couldn't ask for more, and yet you joined their ranks. He was happy to have met you, hearing your story and knowing you came from the same island as him. There was so much he wanted to talk to you about, that he would speak at you quickly, his hands in the air at all times, gesturing and helping him articulate.

You matched his energy, and it excited him.

There was still so much he didn't know, but he knew by the twinkle in your eyes that new fun adventures were bound to come.

He could barely wait.

[humansbgone]

A Humans-B-Gone Dream

Last night I dreamed I was… somewhere in Formicosa. At least I think I was. I know it was purple, and there were macrovolutes there, though at this point I don’t remember what kinds. They might not even have been real insects or arachnids, maybe just mishmashes of random bug parts that my subconscious put together like Frankenstein’s monster. I think one of them might have been bright red.

I’m not sure if any of them saw me- I was up high on top of something, probably a plant. The scenery reminded me of a 3D platformer game, maybe sort of like the Kelp Forest from SpongeBob: Battle For Bikini Bottom: Rehydrated, but without the water. Or… maybe it was like Sub-Con from A Hat in Time? Or maybe the Forbidden Woods from Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker. Regardless, it felt like I was in a 3D platformer game, and I was afraid to come down from my perch because I didn’t want to “aggro” anyone. (Also, I must note that I had no PPE on here, just my pajamas.)

I don’t remember when or how the scene changed, but I went on Tumblr and saw that you’d posted another spider character who’d appear in the next episode of Humans-B-Gone. He was roughly the same shape as Rose, only brown, except for his four front legs which were orange or beige, had no joints, and wiggled like tentacles. And unlike Rose, who’s afraid of humans, this spider ATE humans! And yes, I’m pretty sure other macrovolutes thought he was weird for it.

I think the scene went back to on top of the plant, and I was nervous that Mr. Man-Eating Tentacle Spider would find me, but then the scene changed to the inside of a shed or log cabin of sorts, that had beds inside, but no windows or doors. Some guy in front of me told me that I and the other people in there with us (human people, that is) weren’t allowed to leave, because I’m guessing he thought it wasn’t safe outside. Then a door, or rather a door-shaped hole, appeared behind him to his left while he was talking, and I snuck outside. Outside the shed it was grassy, with some more giant kelp-like plants scattered around, and I found a glass wall that I could climb up the plants to reach the top of.

Over the glass wall was an eye on a blue stalk that I climbed up the plants to get a better look at. It didn’t look like an insect or arachnid’s eye, just a googly eye. When it looked back at me, I heard Sophodra’s voice say “This is the kind of interaction I love to see!” I don’t remember what else she said, and I didn’t see her, but I was a little nervous that she might come back from wherever she’d wandered off to and stare at me with those big creepy mantis eyes.

Oh, wait, I just remembered, she did. She wasn’t quite as big as she was supposed to be, though. I reached over the glass to touch her face and my finger left a trail of grease on it, which she was not happy about, so she scolded me and left.

As you can see, my subconscious got a lot of things about HBG wrong. Sophodra even called me a gub, which she doesn’t do because she doesn’t like that term. Maybe my subconscious just isn’t used to making me dream about bugs that aren’t hostile.

(submitted by @soft-cookie-aka-aquadrop--hope it’s okay to post!)

Love that people are having dreams about HBG! Very fun details in this. Imagining the tentacle spider being someone Rose would be very awkward to be in the same room with.

Anyway, Sophodra just gets excited when she sees humans interacting with the blue googly eye beast and forgets her manners and also vocabulary

[doorrobloxstuff]

Pet headcanons? I wanna see that! I wanna see the widdle babies!!!

ENTITY PET HEADCANONS!!!

THAT WAS FAST-

Anyways, I’ve come up with a few scenarios in which hotel pansexuale ™ can have pets, mind you this is au material and may be subject to change and the mercy of updates.

They learn the concept of pet ownership from a book or somethin-???

Au stuff since in the good!ending au I mentioned once they owned chicken and deer- so maybe a few barn kitties Rush scooped up or a kitty Sally + Dupe owns (the fluffy fam are big fans of kibby. So says me.) or even a really soft, fluffy big dog. Soft things..are a gift for them.. the point is that they all share pet

Plus In my main au they raise Racoons that started after a breeding pair moved into the hotel via a hole in the wall, maybe Rush kept a few favorites…

I don’t really see Seek’s family owning that many pets..or atleast they’d try until Screech brings a rat or something home.? I could Seek owning a cat too..Figure? Chickens and ducks and other domestic fowl Definitely. It’d cluck to them to take care of them. Figure is definitely a fowl person.

Hide definitely gets an emotional support/Therapy dog though for comfort.

Maybe Seek owns one of those hairless cats. Like a pretty calico one.

Imagine it softly clucking or mimicking its flock’s noises in order to call them in for dinner.

Greed definitely owned a hamster, it took care of it even though it’s blind…but honestly? That wasn’t its most important possession out of all its hoard.

Depth. Depth was.

Depth probably would’ve wanted an underwater pet like an octopus or a jellyfish. Some critter that occurs naturally in the pool.

Jack? Hm..snakey snake. Reptiles. Mostly Snakes though.

Bushy in some flavor of au got a ferret. Deadass. No explanation.

Halt? Betta. :) Got that sexy sexy big tank for one little pampered Betta with healthy plants and floating algae balls to match.

“Nice Aquascaping!” Ambush says casually. “‘Watcha got in the tank?” “Betta.” Says Halt. “O-only a Betta..?” “Betta.”

Jeff…? Anything soft and snuggly..maybe a rabbit…? Okay, maybe Jeff needs a dog. Give this man a black lab or a golden retriever or..fuck it, even a sweet shelter dog and watch his heart grow. He needs it. He needs it so bad.

Dread owned doves while human which he cared for deeply. He loved the soft coos of mourning doves outside his home.

Gobby? Bug. Fucking pill beetles man. They rock. Let gobby have a little terrarium filled with pill bugs as a treat. Have him give them water via an Eyedropper.

A60 owns one of those little white dogs with brown tear shitstains on their eyes that are always on the very on crying and adores it.

A90 would probably like a turtle. Watching it swim would make it happy and bring its own swimmy instincts into high gear.

Yes, Printer skunk CAN swim btw. Not a literal water monster like Ambush/Sally but ahh..

A-120 would also like a kitten or maybe a lovebird thank you very much. Much to say, it’d probably like any pet.

Curious would probably like a hissing cockroach or maybe a Xoloitzcuintle dog, maybe a canary…Maybe a Pomeranian?? Mmmmmgmgmgmgngh in-decisive it would have a weird mix of pets.

Guiding light would probably like a pond of koi fish or perhaps an owl/falcon..? Something dignified.

Sorry if your sick about hearing about Rafflesia but they used to own a chinchilla when they were human. His name was Petunia. :)

Rue owned goats at some point..but he secretly loved the little quail chicks at the farm when he was young to the point he has occasional dreams about them..Soft..

Scatters this like pellets to my hungry little doors chickens pspssp feed now

[onlycosmere]

Apocalypse Guard Excerpt

Brandon Sanderson: The two women loaded up their single pack animal. A short creature that looked kind of like a camel, but was more the size of a llama. It eyed me lazily, chewing quietly on its cud. After their packs and bed rolls were tied in place, Echo placed a curious item on top. A long tube, wrapped in cloth. It was almost five feet long. A map tube? If so, those maps would be the size of walls. Once that was done, the camp cleaned, Echo looked me over with a critical eye. I looked down at my ripped slacks. Though my flats were sensible business shoes, they weren't intended for extended hikes. She dug in her pack and came out with an extra pair of boots and a pair of trousers. "Uh," I said, taking the trousers and looking them over. Echo was lean and athletic, and I was... not. She noted my hesitance and said something that sounded like agreement, but I did try on the boots. It took several pair of socks to make them fit, but the end result was better than the flats. I didn't much look the part of a heroic Apocalypse Guard member - my jacket was too big, my business slacks ripped, and poorly matched by a pair of hiking boots. But it wasn't like I needed to appear in any company photos. "I'm good," I told them. "Let's go." Echo looked towards the last thing on the ground, near the center of camp. The shadow rig. Right. I considered putting it on, but was instantly reminded of that melting world where everything became paint. Let's pass on that for now, I thought, packing away the rig beside where Echo had put the trousers. After that, we started walking.

Emma's Instructions for hiking. One, wear comfortable shoes, so when your feet hurt anyway, you can at least feel like you tried. Two, remember tons of bug spray, so you smell like a vat of cleaning liquid. Bonus points if it makes the dirt stick to your skin while walking. If you can, wear a backpack filled with things that you won't end up using, but which will somehow always manage to arrange inside so they can poke you in the gizzard. Four, return to your sweet air conditioned, bug free, shower containing home, renewed and reminded how nice it is not to be a caveman.

People always assume that I'm inexperienced at outdoorsy stuff, just because I tend to throw things at them when they suggest camping. Truth is, I'm very experienced with camping. I spent countless nights with my family, huddled up in the cold by a barely working fire, listening to Father tell stories of when he was a kid in Iona. Shockingly, it had been even more rural back then! Nowadays, we have a stoplight. It's practically cosmopolitan! So yes, I've done lots of camping, and hiking, and canoeing, and backpacking, and skiing. I kind of like that one, but don't tell anyone. Truth is, there's not a lot to do in Iona that doesn't involve pretending to be a caveman. Back when I was little, and apparently brain dead, we kids would spend two entire weeks every summer up at Scoresby's Ranch without even running water, let alone wifi. In my later years, my family and I had even kind of come to a truce on the matter. I pretended to look forward to our yearly camping trip, and they pretended not to notice the phone I always brought along. Or the sets of instructions I may or may not have posted relating to the experience. None of this meant I was prepared for the extended hike through the wilderness with Echo and <Whisprien>, but at least I knew how unprepared I was. I could spot the warning signs of a blister forming, and do something about it. I knew how to pace myself, and how to let others know when I needed a break. These two were obviously experienced survivalists, so even <Whisprien>'s endurance put mine to shame. I tried not to focus on my embarrassment at that, instead studying the landscape. Strangely, it didn't look that much different from Idaho. Mostly filled with scrub grasses and weeds. More of those were brown then back home for some reason, but they seemed healthy anyway. It was a lot more humid than home was, and less dusty. There was real dirt here, not just powdery dried clay and Iona topsoil, also known as rocks. And then there was the sky. Any time I was feeling a sense of familiarity with the hike, I caught a shimmer on the ground, or a shadow passing overhead. Then I'd look up, and my brain would break anew. There was a freaking ocean in the sky. Despite the distance, I could see ripples and waves from passing wind. The things that moved within it were mostly just shadows, but I got a sense of darting schools - not just noble leviathans. Were there sharks? Sky-sharks? The idea made me smile. My adopted brother would have found that incredible; I'd have to tell him. If I survived. Don't be like that, I thought, you'll get out of this. Look, nobody has even tried to kill you all morning.

We stopped for lunch, and they gave me more guard rations while they ate something that looked like beef jerky. Nearby, a strange herd of animals passed through the brush. How to explain them? They were big, almost as tall as a person. And covered in armor that almost looked like a football helmet. Seriously, they had this ball of a body, and a little flat head stuck out the front, with a stumpy tail and flat beak. I'd have called them dinosaurs, except for the face. I was pretty sure they were mammals, like, prehistoric armadillo turtles. Echo didn't seem concerned about them, so I just perched nervously on top of my fallen log and watched them wander by, then felt stupid. I'd faced the <Hex>! I could face an armadillo or two, even if they did seem to be on the wrong side of a radioactive spill.

Echo was obviously a practical woman. She didn't smile often, but it wasn't that she was stern. Maybe just straightforward? Compass in hand, she calmly picked our heading after each break. She would occasionally try to draw her daughter into conversation. <Whisprien> resisted these. The thin girl trudged along in her rugged backpack, eyes down. I never heard her speak in anythingbut  a whisper, and her attitude seemed to be more then your average "sullen tween resents life" sort of thing. But who knows? Maybe she just really hated camping. 

Echo would periodically seek a tree or something to climb so she could check to make sure we weren't being followed. Her voice was always upbeat when she came down, and I could sense a lingering concern from her. She was very worried about those soldiers. One of them had a rig, I thought again. It didn't take a math degree to notice that a lot of things weren't adding up. Part of the secret perhaps lay stowed away in that camel-llama's pack. I walked up beside the animal, who walked placidly beside <Whisprien>, and placed my fingers on the partition that held the shadow rig. I had the distinct sensation of blending realities, of the grass around me melting into colors, like a wet watercolor painting left in the rain. I snatched my hand back. <Whisprien> looked away, and grumbled something, falling back in the line. A short time later, I caught her glaring at my back, eyes narrowed. 

When the sun finally settled beyond the envelope of water, I was exhausted. But it was more a wholesome exhaustion kind of exhaustion than I felt yesterday. It was the exhaustion of having been forced to weed an entire potato field. 

Echo chose a camp that looked like it had been used by other weary travelers. A forested nook beside a weathered section of rock. I heard water gurgling somewhere nearby, which seemed like a good sign that I might actually get to take a bath. Echo unpacked the camel-llama, then grabbed her large water jug and moved off towards the sound of the stream. When she returned with a filled jug, I held out my canteen eagerly, but she shook her head and gestured towards the fire pit. "You have to boil the water first?" I asked, "Probably a good idea."

Fortunately I'd been immunized from all the local viruses, both from here, and from a host of other planets that the Guard was working with. That was standard procedure. I wasn't certain how the Guard prevented themselves from carrying diseases to the worlds they worked on. I hoped I wasn't the latent carrier of, like, smallpox or something. Accidentally harboring the advent of an all-consuming pestilence would be super embarrassing.

<Whisprien> started working on the fire, and she gave me a glance that distinctly seemed to say "Isn't there anything useful you can do?" So I powered up my phone for today's ration of power and snapped a picture of her for my blog. I snuggled back against a comfortable looking log (it wasn't) and ate up a little of my batteries working on some instructions, hoping the whole time my distress beacon would bring a response from those looking for me. No such luck.

About halfway through my allotted half hour, I brought up the map and had Echo point out out current location. She noted a very small distance traveled. Crap on a stick. (I got that one from one of my Iona friends.) Was that really the only progress we'd made? How were we going to reach the Guard outpost in three days? It didn't seem possible. Particularly because we were going the wrong direction. "Echo, isn't that the wrong way?" I tapped the map, then tried to make myself understood by pointing. The outpost was north of where we started, but we'd been walking west. I suppose I could've told that from the sun, if I'd thought about it. Echo said something in her language, then pointed at something on my map. Not a town or an outpost, but a little spot of brown. It was hard to tell what it was on the two dimensional map, only barely touched on topographical features. "Okay...." I said, "I guess I'll trust you know what you're doing." She nodded and went back to working on the fire, which was crackling nicely and boiling our water. She could be leading me into a trap, of course. Perhaps she hadn't saved me out of goodwill, but to gain a potential hostage against the Guard. But it wasn't like I could do anything about that. I'd be laughably ineffective at trying to sneak off. Echo would track me down with little effort, assuming I wasn't immediately devoured by some prehistoric carnivorous elk or something.

I moved to sit on a rock that looked somewhat comfortable (it wasn't) and continued working on my blog, trying not to think too hard about how sore I was going to be from. A harsh whisper hissed from behind me. I jumped, and turned to see <Whisprien> standing behind my seat. She pointed at my screen and hissed something angry. I glanced at what I had been working on. The picture of <Whisprien> I had taken with some handy instructions about living in the wilderness. I switched off the phone, but <Whisprien> reached for it. I barely kept it out of her reach, worried she'd shatter the screen. "Okay, okay," I said, "Sorry, no pictures. I'll delete it, chill!" I tried to do so, but <Whisprien> kept hissing at me and reaching for the phone. The scuffle drew Echo, who barked a question. Finally <Whisprien> backed off, and I reluctantly showed her mother the screen. Echo just nodded. Again, it didn't seem like she was unfamiliar with technology. She didn't demand I delete the photo or anything, but she did pull her daughter over and have her help make what appeared to be an evening soup. Great job Emma, I thought, I apparently needed a set of instructions on not being a giant idiot.

"Hey," I said, walking over to Echo, "is it alright if I go take a bath?" I pantomimed swimming, and washing my hair, then pointed to the water. "Is it safe?" Echo said something, then dug from her pack an old-timey bar of soap and a hairbrush, which she handed to me. I nodded in thanks, then made my way over to the small river. It was more muddy then I'd hoped, but I supposed I couldn't expect something out in the middle of these plains to look like a Grand Teton Mountain spring. I made sure I had line of sight to the other two, just in case, then I stood there, holding the bar of soap, uncertain. Was this a good idea? Taking a bath in the middle of the wilderness on a foreign world, while potentially being chased by mercenaries? I was basically guaranteed to be attacked by, like, a dinosaur or something the moment I stripped down. But what was I gonna do? Go the entire way without ever washing off? I was still bloodied and smudged with ash from the explosion, not to mention caked with sweat. Perhaps taking a bath was tempting fate, but this way if a dinosaur did eat me, at least I'd taste like soap. Truth was, it actually felt empowering to take that bath, like this was my choice. Getting clean was something I wanted, and I wasn't going to let myself be too scared to accomplish it.

That said, I did still watch my surroundings with keen attention as I quickly bathed in the cold water. Unfortunately, once finished, I was left with the same dirty clothing I had taken off. Lance's jacket, my incredibly wrinkled blouse, and the torn slacks. Quite the inspiring uniform. Still, I felt a ton better as I put it all back on. Echo offered me some thread as I rejoined them, and I thankfully started working on sewing up the rips along my leg.

The stew was kinda good. And I turned in feeling kinda clean, kinda full, and kinda not in extreme danger. I woke up the following morning to shouting. Echo called me in her native tongue, and I shook awake, then scrambled to my feet. "What?" I said, "Dinosaurs? It's dinosaurs, isn't it?" I paused. "Do you have dinosaurs here?"

Echo gestured toward the sky. Morning at dawn, and through the branches above, I could see an enormous disturbance in the waters, like ripples of a dropped boulder, only moving inward in a ring. The center of that shrinking ring of waves looked like it was just above our position. Great. I had been starting to feel ignored.

Chapter 13

"The flood can't be happening already!" I shouted as I scrambled back into camp, "We're supposed to have weeks before the apocalypse!"

Echo shouted something back as she grabbed the llama-camel's harness and towed it after her through the trees. <Whisprien> had climbed on its back. "Wait," I called after them. I waved toward the bedrolls and boiling water, "Our stuff! What about..." I trailed off as <Whisprien> looked toward me from the camel's back. The girl's face was still blank of emotion, but her eyes were glowing. They had a ghostly cast to them, pupils melded into the white, shining forth like something bright was behind them. It reminded my of the floodlight eyes of the <Hex>. I stumbled to a stop, gaping, until Echo sent the animal and the girl on ahead, then looked back to me, waving urgently. Above, the sky darkened. The sun faded behind the ocean, as if growing suddenly distant, or as if the water were somehow growing deeper up there, thicker. Echo shouted something at me that sounded a little like "Run", so I ran. I grabbed the shadow rig from inside my bedroll, and left everything else, dashing after the two of them. Once I was past the tree, Echo fell into place beside me. The llama-camel ran on ahead with a loping gait. <Whisprien> clung to it's back.

I wasn't in nearly as good shape as Echo, nor was I, shockingly, a camel. But I made a pretty good showing for myself, and didn't lag behind too much. At least, not until I glanced over my shoulder. The sky rippled, and then broke. Water crashed downwards, the front edge fuzzing, like mist. The enormous column of water seemed to drop in slow motion because of the distance. It wasn't as nearby as I first assumed. Man, it was big. A ring of water the size of a small village just dumping billions of gallons of water down from the sky. I stopped in place, jaw dropping, staring until Echo grabbed my arm and towed me away. What good would it do to flee? We were three little specks before an ocean of destruction. We couldn't outrun the end of the world.

Still, Echo seemed determined. I started running again, but I was built to deliver coffee and the occasional sarcastic quip, not run across the freaking wilderness. Pain seared up my side. I slowed, gasping. A violent crash suddenly washed over us, an engulfing sound that made the very air vibrate. Holy heck. How much water had to fall before it hit the ground with the sound of a bomb going off. Echo looked back at the sound and hesitated in front of me, as if torn between protecting me and running after her daughter. She lingered, urging me on, and I did my best. "What," I said, panting for breath, "What's the use?" Sweat streamed down my face. Echo gestured in front of her, then made a raising motion with her hands. High ground, I thought, She's saying we need to get to high ground. And considering it, the direction we were running did seem to have a gentle slope to it. It wasn't like we were running for the mountains or anything, but maybe this would be enough? If this really is the end though, the high ground won't matter. Most of the planet will end up submerged.

Still, I broke into a weak jog. Ahead, I saw our goal: a rise in the grasslands, a kind of ridge, like a long low hill. <Whisprien> had stopped there with the camel-llama. A cracking sound behind along with the low roar of rushing water made me glance over my shoulder. Water flooded between the trees of our camp, first slow, then in a rush that ripped away branches. Another surge of muddy water engulfed the entire stand, shattering the trees.

I forced myself forward, practically crawling the rest of the way up the hilltop. Water flooded the plain we crossed. It looked deceptively lethargic, like seeping tar, until you focused on something like an individual sapling. On the smaller scale, your mind could comprehend that this was an enormous river, rushing with might and power, pushing debris before it.

I reached the top and collapsed beside <Whisprien>. The waters came, and I realized, I'd just let them swallow me, if it came to that. I couldn't move another step. Blessedly, the rise was high enough. The front of the wave turned aside and fled the other direction. In the distance, the spout of water from the heavens slowed to a mist, then to rain, and finally stopped altogether. This wasn't the end of the world, not yet. More like a warning shot. I lay on the rough grass, listening to the sound of the water growing below. I already felt sweaty and dirty again - so much for my bath. Of course, if I wanted another one, it didn't look like I'd lack for water.

[riahlynn101]

Whumptober: Day Five - Alternative Prompt: "Broken."

Trigger warnings: implied/referenced kidnapping.

I just want to say, this story fought me. It's fairly short and I apologize if it doesn't make much sense. I might publish another story today just to make up for the low word count.

--

They say misery loves company.

Vanessa can’t disprove that. Not when she finds solace in Mike’s suffering. 

It reminds Vanessa so much of her own. 

The anguish of losing a sibling. 

That burning, fiery feeling of self-loathing. 

And the constant thought of, it’s all my fault. 

Of course, logically, it wasn’t. Neither of them couldn’t have done anything differently. They were both kids. 

Vanessa had been eleven at the time, and bedridden that particular day. Her brother was invited to a party. Technically, both of them were invited, but she had contracted a nasty stomach bug. So, her parents made Vanessa stay home. 

The boy that invited them, Gabriel, also went missing. 

Sometimes she thinks about how close she had been to sharing their fates. The what-ifs making her dizzy. 

What if I didn’t get sick. 

What if I went to the party?

What if Cassidy was the one that stayed home?

What if we both went missing?

What if…what if….what if….

Mike hasn’t shared much about his brother, or that day in general. It’s obvious even now, a decade-and-a-half later, it haunts him. 

“That day….we went to a park. I can’t remember why…” Mike trails off, as if actually trying to recall ‘why’ his family went there. 

“Mike,” Vanessa murmurs, trying to keep him on track. They don’t have a lot of time together. She got here late tonight, and her shift starts in an hour. 

“Uh….sorry…um….we went to the park. Me and Garrett were so excited.” Mike smiles softly at the table, a faraway look in his big brown eyes. “We played pirates on the playscape, tag, and….”

“And?” Vanessa presses, quirking a brow. 

Mike blinks, shifting in the chair. “And I was ‘it.’” 

Vanessa listens patiently. Taking in his shuddering breaths and wet eyes. 

“I…I was supposed to- supposed to find him, but I ... .uh ... .couldn't. I ran all the way to the parking lot. I thought maybe he hid under our car. He wasn’t allowed to, but since when do kids listen?” Mike chuckles a little at that, but his eyes remain fixated on the tabletop. “But when I got there I saw him in the backseat of someone else’s car, and they were driving away. I remember trying to chase after them, but I tripped. I think, maybe, I screamed. But I can’t remember very clearly after I tripped.”

Vanessa watches him closely. The words, ‘it’s not your fault,’ sit heavy on her tongue. But she knows from experience that he won’t believe her. Years of being told the same by therapists and counselors and every other adult didn’t make a dent in her self-blame. 

“My brother,” she starts, watching Mike perk up at the change of topic, “and I were close. I told you once that I used to come to this place as a kid.”

He nods. 

“Well, I came here a lot with my brother. Our parents couldn’t afford daycare and didn’t trust us enough to stay home alone, so they would just give us a few bucks and send us here.”

“Huh, very responsible of them.”

Vanessa makes a show of craning her neck to where Abby’s sleeping, curled up in the little fort Mike made. 

He coughs. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

“Anyways, so we spent a lot of time here.” It’s Vanessa’s turn to stare at the table. Memories rush back to her. The smell of pizza. Children cheering as the animatronics sang the same five songs over and over and over again. “Well, one day, my brother went to the pizzeria alone. It was a weekend, and we normally didn’t go on weekends. But my brother and I were invited to a birthday party. I….got sick. A stomach bug or the flu, I can’t remember now. So, I couldn’t go. My brother did though…” She bites her bottom lip to keep from crying. It had been years, almost as long as Mike’s brother’s been missing, and still, she can’t keep it together. 

Mike lays a gentle hand on top of her’s. He doesn’t say a word, but the concerned look in his eyes says it all. 

For once, Vanessa feels seen. 

Misery loves the company of broken people. And Vanessa, the most broken of them all, staring at the only other person she’s ever met that could rival that, would be a fool to deny that. 

[susansluvpage]

The book I'm now working on, tell how you like it, read page 2 also

I Will Love You Anyway

Spent two times having sex with my favorite British singer, Thomas Roberts, whom I cared about , seeing him on a trip I took to England. We had known each other a while but we never had come together before this. I was young and acted a bit foolish at times. Hung around him a bit, but think I made him mad at me a few times. I was nervous around him at first and didn’t know how to talk with him. Back then when I saw him while he was on tour, played my music too loud in my room or opened my big mouth around him too much. Also didn’t know then he preferred his women in dresses. He sometimes was a bit of an old fashion English man. He was famous and well known singer/songwriter in a rock group. He was the lead singer. The group was a combination of American guys and him. 3 guys all together with their backup band. Thomas played the guitar and was lead singer. With a sweet British accent. Devilishly good looking with Chestnut color brown hair and big brown eyes. Had a baby face when he was younger but matured into pure handsomeness as he aged. He was 5’5” 130 lbs. Attracted women like crazy. Since he was highly sexual and wanted as much sex as he could get, he didn’t mind having different women at his beckoned call. Sometimes 2 a day or two together. This was the early 70s’ when his group hit the airwaves and became famous numerous number one songs and platinum selling albums. He became a teen idol along with the two other guys in his group. He was 21 years old then. Mark and George were handsome young men also. Mark played, lead guitar and piano. George played drums and guitar also. They both sang also on the albums but Thomas was lead and the most popular with their fans. There fame went down a bit after they broke up for a while over differences. Now they were playing nightclubs instead of stadiums. Thomas and Mark got the acting bug too and would play in musicals and do television guest appearances as well. Thomas married secretly in 71 and had two daughters. But with him being on the road and not being faithful it didn’t last very long. They just married too young. By 77 he was divorced. He still loved her but couldn’t make their relationship work. He was heartbroken when she asked for a divorce. He closed off his heart then. Drinking and womanising like crazy. Little did many people know he was also struggling with being bipolar and depression. It was showing more as he aged. He also unbeknownst to him had an allergic reaction to beer, something in beer made him act violently and then not remember what he did the next morning.

Thomas is now 28 years old in 1977. Touring with Mark and a backup band. Working as an executive secretary for a law firm Alene was a 21-year-old. 5’2” 113 lbs, 30 DD bust small waist and hips. Long blonde straight hair and big expressive blue eyes. A female receptionist returned from lunch break and told everyone that she seen Thomas, Mark and their band members unloading their bags at the hotel down the street. Found out they were playing at the theater tomorrow. Alene had been a fan of Thomas since his first album came out in 68. I would love to meet him she thought. So, after work she headed for the hotel. She was in no hurry to go home as she was divorcing her husband of 15 months because he was cheating on her. Went over to the hotel, sat in the bar area where people could see the hotel elevators. Then Thomas got off one with his band mates. She got up and went over to him, introduced herself to him. His eyes lite up with interest. He invited her to sit down with them for a drink at the bar. He was so handsome, and her heart palpitated. She became nervous, didn’t know really what to talk to him about. She escaped to the bathroom to try and calm her nerves down. That didn’t work so she had a drink, or two. She doesn’t drink and it went straight to her head. She didn’t understand what she was doing wrong but his interest was waning. Found out later her going into the bathroom too much made him lose interest. That spark of interest was enough to keep her going. She knew he could have any woman he wanted but I thought why not me. She was very much turned on by him. Yes, at first, she just wanted to go to bed with him. She lost herself confidence a bit because of her husband cheating on her. He married her for all the wrong reasons, staying in this country was the main reason. He was from Israel. She found out shortly after they married and heard him talking on the phone to his cousin that he only married her for that reason. She was hurt but did try to make it work. Thomas rejecting her didn’t help her confidence either. Now she decided to try again and kept up with Thomas’s tour schedule. She had a vacation coming up in a couple of months. She had also been in an accident a year ago and had been injured. She was due for some settlement money for that. As they said their goodbyes, Thomas thanked her for having a drink with him and left Alene with a lingering sense of hope and possibility. Though she didn't know what the future held, she couldn't shake off the feeling that something special was brewing between them.

Noticed that Thomas and Mark were hitting smaller town nightclubs. One in Maine they would be there for 5 nights. She found out what motel they were staying at and booked a room there. She remembered that small spark of interest. As he was going to his room he seen her and remembered her. Again she was nervous at first. Then somehow she started feeling a connection with him. She had always been sensitive to some people but with him her connection became stronger. She connected with his stronger feelings and emotions. Now she felt a bond to him. She knew he was concerned about money and his career, he was also sexually frustrated. He was not getting as much sex on the road as he would like to have. She started see him differently and started caring about him. She really didn’t know how to handle such a strong bond with a man like him. I just wish I knew more about what he was attracted to in a woman. One minute his eyes would sparkle with interest then he would walk away. Confuse the heck out of me. She was a bit shy so she was not fourth coming with him either. Wish she had been. Then she not meaning to acted like an idiot. Playing music to loud and taking too many pictures. Was wearing jeans and T-shirt, didn’t know at that time he liked women in dresses. She went him disappointed again. But her connection made her develop feelings for him, she cared about him and didn’t want to give up on him yet. Little did she realize that people around him were protecting him and his secret. When Thomas drank too much especially beer, he became violent sometimes crazy violent. He been known to strike out at people, Or do crazy things when drunk. Didn’t remember anything the next day. There was only one or two people in his group that could control him when he was violent. Mark was one of them. Most of the band mates knew to stay away from him when he had been drinking. There was a story told that a fan was giving him head when she bit his penis accidentally drawing blood. He went off on her hitting her, luckily one of his bandmates got her away from him. Then he screamed and bitched all night about it to everyone. Didn’t remember a thing the next morning. Didn’t always take someone to do something to him for him to go off on them either. Thomas was hurting on the inside badly and had closed his heart to those who really cared about him. He would not let anyone close enough to help him.

Stupid me felt this bond with him. Can’t understand why. Don’t know why I kept putting myself through this rejection. It wasn’t all about sex anymore. Sure I wanted that too but I wanted now to please him also in my special way. I had a secret gift I wanted to give him. I had not given that gift yet again except for the man who taught it to me. I wanted only a special man to have my gift of ecstasy. I went to see him again. This time he was in this city for a whole week. Mark and him were in a musical. Their performance was fantastic. I enjoyed seeing them change things up a bit. They were getting to show their talent off as actors as well. Thomas and I became friendly with each other but not close. He just wouldn’t let me get close to him. I’m wondering now if he somehow sensed my empathy connection to him. I knew financially, he was having problems. He had children to support. He didn’t have much left for himself. I never made demands on him. Maybe should have. He now was using me as a gopher. I should have at least told him to buy me dinner once in a while. Noticed he would have a drink or two but didn’t get drunk, so I had not seen that violent side of him yet. Think Mark would not tolerate his behavior and threaten to separate from him if he kept it up. Thomas was watching himself, so I didn’t even sense it when I was around him. I did sense unhappiness and depression.. just made me want to help him more. He became very good at using women around him for free, both in and out of bed. When he wasn’t touring he would live with one woman, be screwing around on her. Then jump to another woman living on her for a while. He had a girl for every port. Depending on where he was. Sometimes he would spend a little money on them but they were working and putting a roof over his head. He also had devoted fans who felt he could do no wrong. Guess I was one of them. Rose color glasses and all. But my empathy was telling me another story. I knew something was not quite right. Us women think we can change a man, especially by giving him love. But if he doesn’t love you back and wants to change it will not work. Could not figure out what he was looking for then. Will take a lot to open up that heart again if ever.