#bates wilder

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American Fiction (2023) Cord Jefferson

March 5th 2024

[celebclippinz]

Closer magazine - 12 August 2024 issue

[lustlovehart]

Hello Ves! I was wondering about your twst monster au, how would they react if y/n tries to help stitch any wounds that the characters have! (For example ace, deuce, Trey or riddle for any open wounds that they have or limbs that fall off).

Ahhhh!! I love this question!! It perfectly encapsulates the reason all of the monsters are in love with MH!Reader, the over abundance of kindness they have!! On one hand, there is no reason you should help all these fiends, in fact, you should be doing the exact opposite! Yet you can’t help but still have that pitifully sweet human heart that must help those in need!!

Pairings: Ace, Deuce, Riddle, Trey x Reader

Warnings: Stitches, Needles, They’re all delusional for you, Imagined kissing (I said they were delusional), Some world-building in Riddes portion, Small hints of obsession (only small), Loose Limbs, a little tiny bit of blood

For Ace, he quirks an eyebrow up at you with a feigning suspicion, the thin needle causing a sight sting. Though, not too much with the way his pain receptors have diminished with time. The moment you look up at him, it’s traded for one of the cockiest looks you’ve ever seen engraved on his pale features.

“Be careful who you stitch up. Who knows, maybe I’ll drag you down the grave with me when I die a second time.” You only reply with a sigh, prompting him to defend his honor with his “it was just a joke”. He stops when you use your teeth to snap the thread, his eyes glued on the singular action. Your lips look human. Something that shouldn’t be a compliment yet it is. He wonders what would happen If his cold dead lips kissed your own warm mouth.

It was pretty. You know what you’re doing.

“Be careful, do that to anyone else and they might… fall for…” he watches as you lean over him, the needle in hand as your thumb sticks out, pulling the lid of his scarred eye down. You could take him out, you could rip his eyes out and put him in a grave disadvantage. But he wouldn’t care.

Take him. Take all of him, even if it has to be in a bag, he wouldn’t mind.

He watches with a bated breath at every seam you enact, your soft breaths landing on his cold skin. A sight he wants for himself, he won’t even share with Deuce. You snap the thread with the same method from before, your lips close to him.

“You haven’t spoken at all. Has your tongue decomposed too, Ace?” Your words are teasing, yet the way you whisper them, and the way your thumbs massages the stitches, makes any retort he has die on his tongue. “Also… could you let go…? I’m not trying to die any time soon either…”

He looks down, his hand is gripping on your waist with a grip he never knew to be capable of. That will definitely bruise, in fact, how close was he to penetrating skin...? But… at the same time, just… How enchanting can a human be?

He wonders, would it really be so bad for you to join them in the after life?

Deuce, the undead know for consistently losing his hand and/or forearm. Before you appeared, he would just go about his day, letting his limb roam free like a stray animal, but with you, he attempts to rein in its wilderness more often.

“I’m so sorry…” You watch as Deuce repeatedly apologizes for his hands invasiveness. You’re not upset at him, but you can’t deny it’s horrifying to wake up to the feeling of a lone hand intertwining itself with your own fingers. Even in the midst of begging for forgiveness, that hand of his continues to run rampant. Jumping out his hold, landing on your palm, Deuce immediately looks up. The look on his face tells you he’s about to lecture his stray body part, but you stop him with a wave.

He watches with choked words, your hand placing itself on his shoulder and pushing him back into the cushioned chair behind him. He falls with a certain clumsiness, leaning back even further into the foam when you consume his personal space. “I’ll help you.” Your words are said monotonously, yet they seem so kind in the same breath. Deuce has to stop the hand he has full control of from holding you with pure admiration.

The needle in your fingers go through his skin seamlessly, as if his body was meant for your ministrations. He wonders if he was always meant to die in that case. If he is, he must’ve always been destined to meet you. He grieves over his death every day, but there’s a small part of him grateful for your meeting. It makes all those in his stomach worth the fight he fought.

He’s entranced at your diligence. You didn’t have to but you did. He wonders if you’re just an angel in disguise.

When you finish, you snap the thread poking his palm to make sure the limb is properly working. The way it holds your hand makes you question its current capabilities. The way Deuce smiles at you however tells you the limb’s back to its former state, so… why won’t it let go of your hand?

Why won’t Deuce let go?

“Deuce… With a grip that hard you might—!” Your sentence cuts off with a wince. At this point, he could take your hand and use it like it was always his. It takes a shove of his shoulder for him to break out of his enchantment, immediately letting go of you with panic. He opens his mouth to say his apologizes, but stops when your forehead falls onto his shoulder, whimpers of strained “it’s okay”’s leaving your mouth.

He feels horrible, but a small part of him, the same one that feels joy for being dead, is happy he got to see such a vulnerable side. He’ll try not to do anything like it again.

Riddle, who is always transparent and untouchable, is being punctured with steel, something that shouldn’t be possible. Yet, it’s only possible because it’s you who’s doing it. It’s one of the few rare instances where he uses his status as a great wonder to become temporarily human, he insists it’s not against any rules. Sorta.

Certain ethics come into play with monsters becoming human in their society. It’s generally looked down upon, with the consensus of “Why would you ever want to be a weak mortal?”, the 7 territories being especially regarded with this view as they’re considered the most influential. It’s quite funny, every low ranked beast praises the 7 for their power, but other than those in their group, no one else knows they abuse their power to take the temporary form of a human for a few hours.

He feels shameful at this utter lack of rule consideration, the others must be dutifully staying true to their form, unlike him. But there’s a part of him that feels grateful for it. Without it, you wouldn’t be caring for him like this would you? (He is yet to know all the other seven do the same thing, all because of you.)

“Riddle? You’re really silent…” of course he is…! How is he supposed to talk when you’re oh so close… Fingers continue to sew the gape in his larynx, deep inhales rushing through him at the feeling, not of the needle, but of your touch. When you snap the string, his hands flies up to stop the retracting of your hands. He only narrowly stops when he realizes how affectionate of an act that would be. It would be inappropriate, a scandal!

Though, was it not already improper when you practically consumed his personal space? Not only that… but, no one is around to see such rule breaking… He should behead himself at this point…! Thinking about such an obvious act of treason in a positive light. What have you done to him?

“Ah, forgive me. I assume we’re finished?” He’s pleasantly proven wrong when you trade him a smile, pointing at the giant hole in his chest. He should say no. He should refuse…! “… Try to be careful.” After you’ve finished your ministrations on him, he plans to plant himself on a guillotine and allow Trey to punish him for his transgressions.

Your hand traces down to his torso, the heart shape hole on his skin is beautiful, yet the grotesqueness tells you there’s much more behind it. He won’t ever ask you, but, he secretly wishes for your lips to breathe new air into him, let his skin flourish with opaque color, and his vacant chest boolm with a new heart.

“Riddle…? You’re staring really hard…”

Please forgive him, he doesn’t mean to become so naive with his thoughts.

Trey is the most regular reaction on here honestly. You stitch his hand and he lets you, all with a smile on his face. Your fingers will tighten the seams that were already embedded into his skin, meanwhile his tall figure doesm’t even wince at something that should be painful. It’s perfectly regular.

Until the events that come after.

You don’t want to assume, perhaps Trey is just clumsy! But the way he holds himself communicates that entirely differently… But ever since the first session, his limbs somehow always appear loose or fallen off. You swear… You tightened it well enough! Even put a secure bow with the string. While you’re fretting over how this could happen so often, Trey just shrugs it off with a light chuckle.

“Don’t laugh…” How could he not enjoy the domestic sight of you diligently fixing him up though? It’s a nice change of pace to the chaos of the hospital he has to deal with. It’s an exhausting rinse and repeat.

It makes you wonder if Trey is doing it on purpose…

… How silly he could never, he’s one of the last who would do something so clingy. Trey’s regular, the only thing that sets him apart is that green skin and height he bears.

Be careful, one day you’ll open the pantry to a pale bruised arm, picking it up with assumption of it being Treys. You’re quick to drop it when you walk in and he has all limbs intact and tightened for once.

Don’t worry! He’ll comfort you in your panic with firm hugs of consolation. The red on his fingers are from the strawberry’s he picked just for you, so come bake with him and let your fear wash away.

When you fall asleep after your fit, he brushes your face with stained fingers, crimson coating your cheek. The sweet fruit is wiped with with his thumb, his tongue darting out to lick its sweet contents.

He's sure the iron taste is drowned out by your sweet flavor intermingling with it.

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 42 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: The retirement party for Admiral Bates is well underway when you and Bradley run into Beau Simpson. He's just one reminder that some things will never change for the two of you. While you're really enjoying the evening out with your boyfriend, it's starting to feel like nobody else wants you to.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4800 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

On the way up to the San Diego Botanic Gardens, Bradley held your hand and sang while he drove. Nat was in the backseat humming along with him, and you were simply looking out the window at the ocean and the rocky cliffs along the wilder more rustic beaches north of the city. The sun was setting, and the orange and purple streaks along the horizon cast everything in a dreamy light. 

Then you thought about Noah and wondered if you left enough ants on logs for him and Amelia to eat for a bedtime snack. You weren't sure if you got his favorite pajamas out of the dryer before you started getting dressed for the night. "Should I text Amelia and check on Noah?"

Bradley chuckled and glanced at you as he drove. "We just left, Baby. I told her to call me if she needed anything, so I'm sure they're fine."

You tugged gently on his hand. "You texted me all the time when I was Noah's babysitter. Even when you were out on app dates."

Bradley squeezed your thigh through all of the layers of your skirt as he quickly glanced at Nat in his rearview mirror. "I wasn't texting you to check on Noah, because I knew he was perfectly fine in your care. I was texting you because I couldn't focus on whichever woman was right in front of me when I knew you were waiting at home." You smiled as warmth washed through your body. "I was a complete fucking mess on every single one of those dates. Running back home to see if you were sitting on the couch or at the kitchen table. Curious about which color Skittle was touching your lips and tongue. That's why I texted. And that's why you're not my babysitter anymore."

If Natasha could hear your conversation, she was thankfully pretending she couldn't. You brought Bradley's rough hand up to your lips and kissed him. "I'm a complete fucking mess for Noah's daddy." Bradley grabbed your chin and ran his thumb along your bottom lip, and you were shamefully a little turned on while someone else was in the car with you. 

After that he dropped his hand back to your thigh, but you could see the flushed shade of pink on his cheeks and knew he was feeling as warm as you were. "I want you to have fun tonight, Princess. I love the way you always think about Noah, but I'm not going to worry about anything at home unless Amelia contacts us, okay?"

You let your head tip back against the seat as you said, "Okay. You're right."

Bradley pulled off of the main road into the parking lot of the beautifully lit up glass greenhouse structure of the gardens as he said, "I'll get a little champagne in your belly, and then you'll be focused on me." He was smiling as he found a parking spot, and you leaned over to kiss his cheek.

"Well, this has been lovely, but I'll meet you both inside," Nat announced as she hopped out as soon as the Bronco came to a stop. You watched her yank her black dress up in her hand and walk as quickly as she could across the parking lot in her massively high heels while you laughed. 

"She thinks we're gross," you whispered as you crawled onto his lap. You kissed his mustache as you reached for his hat and put it on him. His eyes were soft as he examined your face, stroking his thumb along your cheek. You kissed him again, trying to remember that he was wearing all white while you were wearing dark lipstick. But now it was smudged on his lips and you whimpered softly. 

"We are gross," he confirmed, wrapping his arms around you and holding you on his lap. "Now... who are you going to stay with all evening?"

You smirked. "My Daddy."

"Perfect," he replied, stroking the bare skin along your lower back, making you shiver. "Let's go find Mav and Penny and get some champagne."

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

Bradley would never get over the fact that you were such a headturner, but with you in your formal dress, things were even worse than the night he took you to the Hard Deck in your worn out jeans. He should have bought you an actual crown to go with your outfit, because it would have matched perfectly with your flawless face and your poised demeanor. It would have made you stand out even more. 

The difference tonight was the number of spouses and significant others who were present, and many of them were Bradley's age. As you and he walked inside the sprawling greenhouse enclosure which was filled with orchids, topiaries and rare plants, Bradley felt like he was cast in a spotlight. He kept his arm wrapped around your waist as you chatted away about wanting to see the rare flowers that were supposedly blooming tonight. 

"We can check them out," he assured you, fully aware that you were completely oblivious to the women glaring at you and the men smirking at Bradley. "We just need to find the man of the hour and get you a glass of champagne first."

But the crowd of people moving deeper into the greenhouse slowed, so Bradley pulled you closer to him. You went willingly and stood with your chest pressed to his as you looked up at him and smiled. His hands fell to the swell of your hips as you touched all of his pins again. In your high heels, your lips met his neck more easily, and you whispered, "I think I'm the youngest person here," with a little laugh. 

"You have no idea, do you?" he asked, taking a few steps forward with the crowd as he guided you along the stone pathway. When you looked up at him, clearly puzzled, he added, "You don't know how people look at you." He brought his fingers up to the smooth strip of skin above your skirt and watched you turn your head and look around the indoor garden as someone started playing the grand piano set off in the corner. Your cheek rested briefly against his white jacket before you looked up at him again. 

"People are looking at me," you whispered, poking his hat so it was crooked on his head. 

"Mmhmm."

"It's just because I'm younger, and I'm here with a very old man," you said with an innocent expression. 

Bradley squeezed your ass and stroked your lips with his thumb as he said, "Blaming it on the age gap is only going to get you so far, Princess. You're beautiful, and people notice."

You grinned up at him and muttered, "You're such a daddy," just as someone in a tuxedo holding a platter of champagne flutes came past. "You're hot, too. That's why there are women looking at us." 

Bradley snatched two flutes as he realized that you and he were actually in the line to shake hands with Admiral Bates. He wanted to argue and say that he wasn't the reason anyone took notice, but he could see Warlock and his wife now.

"Okay, Baby," he whispered, handing you a glass. "Make me look good in front of my bosses." And then he noticed that Cyclone and Maverick were there, too. And now Cyclone was looking at you like you were the midnight snack he tried to take home with him from the Hard Deck. 

"Oh, it's that guy again," you whispered as you turned to face the front of the line. "The one who bought me drinks at your Navy bar."

"Admiral Simpson." Bradley had to fight the urge to grab at your body and taste your tongue, even though the only thing he wanted to do was make it clear to Admiral Simpson and everyone else that you were with him and him alone. His cock twitched in his dress whites just thinking about parading you around this retirement party with your hair wrecked and your skirt crooked and a fucked out little smile on your face. 

He grunted as he laced his fingers with yours, and Cyclone met his eyes. He had to fight to keep his expression neutral as the other man's gaze traveled to your face and dipped down your body, and when he met Bradley's brown eyes again, he smirked. So Bradley smirked, too. 

Then you and he were right there in front of the lineup of Maverick, Cyclone, Warlock and his wife. He let go of your hand to salute the others, and then Warlock's wife started to make an absolute fuss over him. But not before he heard what Cyclone said to you.

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

You were young, but you weren't stupid, and you didn't appreciate the way most men besides Bradley looked at you. He never stared at your chest instead of your face when talking to you, and he never made you feel uncomfortable. You chalked it up to him being older and more mature than guys your own age. So it was almost laughable when Admiral Simpson, who was at least fifteen years older than your boyfriend, greeted you by saying, "I remember you. From the Hard Deck. You'd be impossible to forget."

As if he'd done anything besides piss you off when he touched your cheek. As if you hadn't pushed his hand away and strolled off with the drinks he insisted upon paying for. You wanted to make a snide remark, you really did. When he shook your hand and asked to be reminded about your name, you wanted to tell him to fuck off. But you knew that Bradley reported to both him and Maverick at work, so you decided to play nice. 

You glanced up at Bradley who was sort of glaring at Admiral Simpson even though he was talking to Admiral Bates. You told Simpson your name, and then he gave your hand a little squeeze. "Please, call me Beau."

"Sure," you said cooly, carefully extracting your hand from his. "Beau."

"So, I heard that you're actually Bradshaw's babysitter."

The words made your skin prickle coming from him. "I'm working full time as a nurse now."

He smirked. "Are you still looking for a babysitting job after hours?"

You raised one eyebrow and sipped your champagne before you asked, "Do you have kids?"

"No, none," he replied easily, his steely gray eyes locked on your face. "But I'm sure I could still find something for you to do with your set of skills."

You were torn between throwing your champagne at him and loudly asking him to explain what he meant by that. But you didn't want to waste the drink when there was a delicious looking raspberry waiting for you at the bottom, and you were certain you already knew what he was getting at. So you simply said, "I'm kept very busy all day as a pediatric nurse and all night as Lieutenant Bradshaw's girlfriend. I just don't see how I could fit you in."

You turned away from his smirking lips when Admiral Bates' wife absolutely lit up and asked, "You're a pediatric nurse? That was my career for almost thirty years!" You were blessedly saved from having to talk to Beau any longer as Admiral and Mrs. Bates kindly asked you about your job and didn't treat you like a child. She even said, "I'll absolutely look for you again later tonight. I had no idea Lieutenant Bradshaw was dating a pediatric nurse!"

After you bid them farewell, you realized Bradley and Beau were standing very close together, and your boyfriend did not look happy. The last thing you wanted was to be the reason he didn't enjoy himself tonight. You downed the remainder of your champagne and bit into the perfectly ripe berry before you reached for his hand.

"Come on, Daddy," you said loud enough for Beau to hear as well. "I feel like dancing." With one firm tug, you got him moving away from the other man. "It sounds like there's a DJ in another part of the arboretum," you mused as he came along.

"I heard what he said to you." You looked up to see Bradley's expression was annoyed. "It's always going to be like this. You know that, right?"

You reached for two more champagne glasses as they came parading past you. "Save your berry for me," you instructed Bradly when you handed one to him. "It's my favorite part."

"Did you hear what I said?" he asked, stopping you when you tried to head off toward the louder music. 

"Yes, I heard you, Bradley. But you're the one who keeps telling me to ignore it. You tell me it doesn't matter, and that you love me and that I shouldn't let it bother me. So what would you have me do? Ask you to yell at Maverick's boss for being weird?"

He sighed and said, "It's never going to stop. Because you're young and hot."

Now you were getting a little annoyed. "Well, can you live with it or not? And this is a two way street here, because I've had to deal with my fair share of Caseys and Helens. You're hot. You have a sweet little boy and a dog. You have your shit together. You're a man in your thirties, who could have any woman he wants, and it shows. But you told me you want me. And I want you. So Beau Simpson can just stand over there next to the seven foot tall brassavola nodosa orchid and look like an ass for all I really care."

Bradley was gaping at you as you put your hands on your hips and added, "Don't forget to save me your raspberry. Now I said I wanted to dance. Are you coming or should I go find Nat?"

"I'm coming," he whispered. 

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

Bradley wasn't sure how many glasses of champagne you'd had, but an hour later, you were still dancing with him inside the humid fountain room surrounded by rare ferns and imported shrubs while you giggled. The music was starting to pick up as the night wore on, and after you and he had danced to a handful of slower, romantic songs, a few with faster tempos played in a row. 

He kissed your temple and whispered, "Let's take a break."

You scoffed and tightened your arms around him, your breasts pressed to his jacked inside your beaded top. "You're so old," you said, but it came out as more of a whine. "And sexy. And I want to keep dancing with you."

It was that easy for you to keep him on the dancefloor near Maverick and Penny. Even Nat was dancing nearby with Coyote, and Bradley was pretty sure he knew what that meant. "I'll bet you Nat goes home with Javy," he whispered next to your ear. 

You gasped and turned to look at them over your shoulder. "Oh, I hope she does. He's so hot."

"Hey," he grumbled, tucking his fingers inside the waistband of your skirt and drawing your attention back to him. 

"I mean... ewww, he's way too young! He's like thirty! I hate that."

"That's better." He leaned down to kiss you, and it was just starting to get a little dirty when Maverick cleared his throat. 

"Just thought maybe I could cut in for a bit," he said with a smile at you.

"Sure!" you replied, and Bradley left you with his godfather after giving you a soft peck on the cheek. Then he went off in search of Penny at the bar where she was drinking a martini in her pretty blue dress. 

"Oh, there you are," she said, flagging down the bartender again for him. "You want a martini?"

"Sure," Bradley replied. He was keeping track of how much he had so he could drive him later. Now he was also going to have to check in with Javy and see how much he'd consumed. "Amelia would text me if there was an issue, right?" he asked Penny. 

"I'm sure she would. She probably has Noah in bed by now and is reading one of those horror novels she likes. Either that, or she's playing with the dog."

Bradley nodded and glanced to make sure you were still with Mav. "He really wanted to dance with your future wife," Penny said when Bradley's martini got dropped off. 

He groaned. "Mav told you I'm looking at rings? Because I specifically asked him not to."

Penny laughed. "He's terrible at keeping secrets. You should have known better."

"I'll know better for next time," Bradley told her playfully. "And I don't care if she dances with him for the rest of the night, I just need to keep most of these other assholes away from her."

Penny laughed with the rim of her martini glass pressed to her lips. After she took a sip, she said, "I'm not surprised you feel that way. She's sweet and she's young. And while I miss having her living on my street, I'm sure you must be happy she's living with you now. The trip to the lake house was really special, and it's easy to see how much Noah loves her."

Bradley smiled. "She fell in love with Noah before she fell in love with me."

"Anyone would, Bradley."

He and Penny were sipping their martinis when Maverick joined them, and Bradley turned so fast to see where you'd gone. "Seriously, Mav? You left her with Hangman?"

Maverick glanced back as well to watch Jake's hands all over that soft skin above the top of your skirt. Bradley's jaw clenched; nobody else should have access to you there. Even Mav had kept his hands respectfully on the back of your beaded top. And Jake looked handsome tonight. Bradley knew dress whites made any officer at least ten percent more attractive; it was something Nat told him years ago when he got asked out ten times at his promotion banquet.

"She'll be fine," he replied with a shrug, ordering himself a beer. "What's the worst that could happen?"

You asked him barely an hour ago if he could live with this or not. He had assured you he could. But this was Jake. He'd actually managed to kiss you in the middle of Bradley's kitchen. Jake knew what your lipgloss tasted like. "Fuck," Bradley grunted when Jake met his gaze. Because now he was smiling like the cat who got the cream while he let his hands drift a little further south toward your ass. 

You were talking to him, about what, Bradley had no idea. Then you reached for his hands and guided them back up to your waist while Jake gave you the most distressingly fake innocent look he could muster up. When you glanced Bradley's way, you rolled your eyes before turning back to Jake, but when that song ended, you came over to the bar. Before you even made it all the way to him, Bradley secured you a glass of champagne with a raspberry.

"Princess," he said, handing it to you. "Did you have fun with Jake?"

"Not particularly," you said blandly, but Bradley could tell you were ready to laugh. "He invited me to the charity air show next month that he's flying in. Claimed he's donating five thousand dollars to the children's hospital and asked if I'd want to go since I work with kids. He also stressed that it wouldn't be a date, and that I would get to tour the hospital with him."

Bradley chuckled. He'd thrown his name on the list of volunteers as well, and he knew for a fact the selections hadn't even been made yet. "That's wishful thinking on his part." Bradley leaned in and kissed your cheek. "Do you want to go on a tour of the children's hospital?"

"Kind of," you said with a shrug while you gulped down your champagne just to get to the raspberry which made him smile. "But not with Jake. Obviously."

He tucked his fingers under your chin so you were looking at him. "Do you want to go with me if I get to fly in the air show?"

Your face let up. "Of course! I didn't want to say anything, but the whole day sounded pretty great, actually. Can you fly in it, too?"

"I'll see what I can do," Bradley said softly, looking across the crowded room and past the fountain to where Cyclone and Warlock were chatting. As much as he didn't want to, he could ask Warlock on one of his last days at work to push his name to the top if possible. And he'd rather choke on one of the raspberries, but he could feasibly ask Cyclone. 

Bradley watched you pluck another glass of champagne from a passing tray before leaving your empty one on the bar. "Baby, how many have you had?" he asked with a laugh.

"Not as many as Natasha," you replied, nodding to where she and Javy were making out in the middle of the dancing couples. Actually, a lot of Bradley's colleagues were pretty drunk now. Even Maverick had rosy cheeks and a bit of extra swagger in his step. 

Bradley set his empty martini glass down, already knowing that was his last drink for the night. Your eyes lit up as you finished yet another glass of champagne, and Bradley recognized the remix of the song as one from the kid friendly playlist you made for Noah. You shook the raspberry into your mouth and chewed it up before you kissed him. 

"Dance with me," you demanded, and Bradley wrapped his arm around your waist and led you out to where everyone was bouncing around. The lights had been dimmed, and the fountain in the background was illuminated now. You danced wildly in his arms, and Bradley knew you were probably going to have a hangover tomorrow. When you spun around as you sang along, your ass grinding against him, Bradey leaned in close and kissed your neck.

"I love you, Baby," he said over the music as he ran his hands along any bare skin he could find. You responded by grinding a little harder against him, so he knew you heard him. He licked the shell of your ear and kissed you there as the song came to an end. 

"I love you too, Daddy," you told him, kissing him solidly on the lips. "I think I'll have one more glass of champagne."

He was not convinced that was a good idea, but he took you back to the bar anyway. And now everyone was over here including Nat and Javy who looked very cozy together. You had another champagne flute in your hand when he asked Nat, "You're not going to need a ride home from me, are you?"

She smirked and shrugged at him. "Doesn't look that way."

"How long has this been going on this time?" he asked as you tugged on his arm.

"Daddy, can I have your wallet?" you asked loudly in front of everyone accumulated at the bar. Javy gaped at Bradley while Mav and Penny tried not to laugh. Nat was ready to gag just like she was every time she heard you call him that. You were probably a little drunk, but you probably also didn't care who heard you. Bradley pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to you, and you kissed his cheek and walked away with it. 

"I feel like I should be concerned," he muttered to himself.

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

You were quite tipsy now, and everything seemed like a good idea. Once you secured Bradley's wallet, you giggled as you went off to find that one guy carrying around the champagne who looked about your age. When you located him, you smiled and waved him down.

He looked like he was going to drop his entire tray as he eagerly asked, "How can I help you?"

Then you told him your name and said, "I was hoping you could do me a favor."

"Anything," he said quickly, and you couldn't help but laugh which made him smile. You probably didn't even need the wallet after all, but you took out fifty bucks and pointed across the room. "You see that guy standing over there in the dress whites?" You knew that didn't really narrow it down in this crowd, but luckily at the moment Beau Simpson was mostly surrounded by women and men in gowns and suits. 

"Yes."

"Any chance you can go to the bar, get a glass of top shelf bourbon and take it to him?"

He shrugged and said, "Sure."

Then you handed him the fifty and said, "Please make sure you tell him it's from Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw and his girlfriend." 

"Done," he replied, his eyes lighting up at the prospect of making some easy money. 

As he walked away, you smiled to yourself and strolled back to Bradley. He seemed to be arguing with Natasha about something, so you carefully tucked his wallet into his pocket. He turned to face you, and you kissed his cheek and whispered, "I'll be back after I use the ladies' room."

"Don't take too long," he told you, patting your butt before returning to his conversation with his best friend.��

You nearly tripped when you saw Admiral Beau Simpson being delivered his glass of bourbon, and it seemed to do what you had hoped it would. He was laughing as he searched the crowd, and then he took a sip of it with an appreciative look on his face before joining Admiral Bates in conversation. You were practically cackling as you made your way to the restroom with your poofy skirt billowing around you.

Tonight you really felt like a princess, and when you checked yourself in the ladies' room mirror, you were delighted to see that the makeup job Natasha did still looked really good. You clicked across the marble floor in your heels and tucked yourself in one of the stalls. Very carefully you bunched your skirt up, and just as you finished and flushed the toilet, you heard the main door open, and a few voices echoed through the room.

"She's way too young for him," said one woman, and you tried your best to keep your skirt bunched up as you peeked through the slit between the stall door and the wall. She was kind of pretty; she kind of looked like an older version of you. "Whoever she is, she looks like she's about twenty. Her purple dress is pretty though."

You froze, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end.

"He's just having his midlife crises a few years early. All men have one," another woman, this one with red hair, told the first one. You were nearly certain they were talking about you and Bradley, and you had to keep bunching your skirt up so they wouldn't see it under the stall door. "But he's got a kid, doesn't he?"

"Yeah," replied a third woman with black hair, who was fixing her makeup. "He's a cute little thing. Rooster brought him to base a few times."

Your heart was pounding as you stood there and listened to someone you'd never even seen before talk about how cute Noah was. You couldn't decide if you wanted to scream or cry as she said, "He'll snap out of it soon when he realizes he can do better. I'm sure she's got nothing to offer other than being young and eager. He'll get tired of that soon enough."

The first woman laughed merrily as tears stung your eyes. You were standing in a bathroom stall holding the bunched up skirt of the formal dress Bradley bought for you while three women you didn't even know trashed you for no good reason.

Then the second woman said, "She wasn't even with him when we passed him on our way here."

"Yeah, it's probably past her curfew."

Now all three of them laughed as your lip quivered. 

You watched the first woman wiggle the top of her dress a little lower as she fixed her cleavage. "Listen, he looks hot in his dress whites. If she's not there when we go back out, I'm going to accidentally bump into him."

"No, you're not!" came one reply.

"I dare you," came the other.

You let the fabric fall from your hands as you squared your shoulders. They were talking about Bradley. They were talking about Noah. They were talking about you and your family. You were tired of being treated like you were a fucking joke. Then you unlatched the stall door and were met with three pairs of surprised eyes. 

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

Who do they even think they are? And Bradley better fly in the air show, because I want Princess to get to visit the children's hospital. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 43

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@chaoticassidy

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

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@thedroneranger

@bradshawsbitch

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

[shares-a-vest]

After discovering Dustin doesn't have a dad and that Steve's jerk of a father is never around, Wayne decides he wants to take the pair on a camping/fishing trip. Nothing too exhausting or arduous. And certainly not in any kind of men-needing-to-be-out-in-the-wilderness-asserting-their-masculine-dominance way. At all. He'd had enough of that from his own father.

Besides, he knows Dustin likes exploring the outdoors with all his scientific endeavours. Observing the weather, looking up at the stars and studying wildlife. Mapping out their surroundings by hand with only a compass. Looking up plants and trees in his Midwest Wildlife textbook he lugs around a lot of the time. Wayne makes sure to encourage Dustin to bring any of his sciencey stuff he might want and discourages the others from teasing him about it. He even makes room in the back of the van, right next to his fishing basket.

Eddie similarly just wants to explore. Though Wayne would argue his nephew more forages like it's his natural habitat than Dustin's more focused studious approach. Wayne's brother Al had always taken issue with Eddie's desire to explore their surroundings when he'd tagged along on their camping trips. A tradition when Eddie was much younger that grew scanter as years went on and Al got himself into more trouble.

Al had always chided the boy, saying he was the troublemaker. 'Unfocused' he meant, along with all those other cruel things Wayne defended when Al said them just loud enough for Eddie to hear. But now Wayne lets him roam - under the strict stipulation he comes back before sundown and doesn't do anything too stupid like jump in a running river, of course!

Steve, on the other hand, simply wants to go fishing and cook up what they catch. Just sit by the campfire and look into the flames as they exist out in nature for a weekend, mostly in silence. He seems calmer - happier, even - as he sips quietly on a beer or two. And of course, Steve is an apt fisherman too.

When they arrive home to an overly-worried Claudia Henderson waiting on bated breath for her son as she stands between her two-door car and Steve's shiny maroon Beemer, Dustin practically tumbles out of the car, babbling a mile a minute as he flaps about his notebook filled with his 'findings'. Whatever they are, Wayne still doesn't quite understand.

And Steve gives him a tight hug that lingers for a long while, making Wayne realises the young man might be the loneliest boy in the world.

"Thanks, Wayne," he mumbles, stepping back and propping a hand on his hip like he is trying to remain casual.

"Any time, kid," he smiles and reaches out to pat Steve on the shoulder, "We'll go next time I have a few days off."

Steve gives the faintest sign of an agreeable nod, unaware that Wayne fully means it as a promise.

[againstacecilia]

Because You Left

Pairing: Poe Dameron x gn!reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Rating: This one's for anybody, but the whole blog is 18+ for sure.

Warnings: Lovers to strangers, fighting, angst, swearing, both of them are probably idiots but *shrug*

A/N: Holy wow it's been a minute! I've had this one in the vault for a while but just never did anything with it. There's a happy ending as well, so I can post that if there's interest, but I'm pushing myself to not tie everything up so nicely and let the tough emotions sit so you get ✨angst✨. We also don't need to talk about how I'm working through some things about an old flame with this one soooo hush. Unbeta'd, no use of y/n.

It’s an unusually quiet night on base, lamplight flickering through the hallways and muffled laughter sneaking under doors as people take advantage of the stillness. Your footsteps echo loudly, an intrusion in the calm as you hurry to your post, breathless by the time you arrive.

“Sorry I’m late,” you begin, not looking at your watch partner, “I couldn’t find-”

“Not like you to be late, Captain,” a familiar voice interrupts.

Your stomach flops as you meet Poe’s gaze. “I… I’m sorry, Commander.” Your words falter, the memory of your last encounter momentarily clouding your mind…

“Find somewhere else to sleep tonight,” Poe says quietly at the door, not looking at you, “I’m busy.”

“Of course you are. Seems like you’ve been busy a lot these days. Busy with everything but finding time for me.”

Poe doesn’t say anything as he turns his back to you, pressing the button to close the door to his quarters. The click of the door sliding into place echoes deep in your bones as you’re left alone in the hallway…

That was months ago. You’d immediately requested a service change to a new squadron and done everything in your power to avoid seeing him again. Night shifts and dangerous recon runs, anything to make sure your paths never crossed again. 

“No need to apologize, I won’t tell anyone.” Poe winks at you with a grin. “So, it’s been a while, how have you been?”

Shaking the memory from your mind, you begin preparing for your watch. “Fine. You?”

“I’ve been okay.” He watches you gather your things, eyes trained on your every move.

“Mmm,” you respond non-committedly, shoving a flashlight and spare battery pack for your blaster into your bag before tugging the straps over your shoulders. “Well, I should be off. Being late and all.”

“Actually, we should be off. Your shift buddy called out so I’m his replacement.”

Fantastic. “Commander Dameron on night patrol?”

“Everyone pitches in where they’re needed,” he responds, hoisting his pack. 

Six hours on watch with Poe was the last thing you wanted to do, but he was right. Everyone was expected to, and for the most part did, pitch in where they were needed. If this was how you were expected to help the Resistance then you’d grit your teeth and get through it. 

“Let’s get going then.” You’re out the door and making your way to the watchtower before he can reprimand you for speaking to your superior like that. 

Luckily, the calm seems to be holding and the watchtower is nearly serene in the clear night. Stars twinkle above you in constellations you were still learning and the breeze was a song you never tired of. Lost in the ebb and flow of nature around you, you don’t notice the time pass.

Poe’s voice breaks the silence for the first time in hours. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you nod, keeping your eyes on the wilderness beyond the base.

“What happened? With us?” 

Heat creeps up the back of your neck and the breeze seems to stop at the question. Like the whole base was waiting on bated breath for your response. “We just… Grew apart. That’s all.”

You hear Poe shift in his seat. “No, I don’t think that’s it. Not entirely.”

“What do you want me to say, Poe?” “I want you to look at me and tell me the truth.”

“I told you the truth.” Your clipped response is bitter on your tongue and you keep your body facing away from him. “We grew apart and the war got in the way of everything else.”

“This isn’t just some distance thing, tell me what happened.”

“I have nothing else to say.”

“You’re still not telling me the truth. I know you, why did you suddenly-”

“Because you left!” The words rip out of you and you finally stand, whirling around to face him. “Because you left me, Poe.”

Indignation blazes across his face. “I never left you, not any longer than a mission required of me!”

“That’s not what I mean!” Both your voices are too loud for the quiet watch, but you don’t care. Emotions flare and dance in your veins, demanding to be released. “You stopped giving a damn and then kicked me out of your room and told me you were busy. You stopped fighting for me. For us. You left one day and never really came back.”

The silence seems to echo as your words fade from the lone tower, open to the night sky. “I’d been trying for weeks at that point, Poe, and you kept pushing me away. So I stopped trying because you obviously didn’t want me around!”

“When have I ever said I don’t want you around?” He’s also standing, stepping into your orbit with his hands extended to his sides.

“You didn’t have to say it.” Stomping away from him to the rail of the tower, you lean against the weathered wood, “It was painfully clear.”

He follows you and grips your shoulders, spinning you to face him. “I’ve been out of my damn mind trying to be a leader in all of this. You know what Leia expects of me, you know what’s at stake-”

“Of course I do!” You shake his hands off you and push him away, “But I thought it would be exactly because of those reasons that you’d give a fuck about me. I thought, for a moment, that I was one of those things you were fighting for.”

“You were! You still are, and you always have been!”

“Just stop.” Your voice is trembling with rage and pain; searing white flames lick through the marrow of your bones. “Whether you meant to or not, you made it very clear where your priorities are and I’ve made my peace with the fact that this,” a sweeping gesture to the sleeping base below, “is your priority. Not me. And I shouldn’t be. I mean, hell, what am I compared to the entire Resistance?”

Needing to put any amount of distance between you, you make your way to the other side of the tower and settle into a chair, facing away from Poe. The noise from the breeze and insects comes back into focus as you curl your legs against your chest. 

After a moment, Poe’s voice reaches you from across the tower, “Do you know why I told you I was busy that night? Why I told you to go sleep somewhere else?”

You don’t respond, hugging your legs tighter as the anger starts to fizzle into sadness.

“I told you to leave because Leia had informed me that we had just lost an entire squadron to an ambush in the Mid-Rim. I had gotten some intel that there was going to be an unprotected shipment of weapons in the area and that group was sent out to get them. It was a trap, and my bad information got them all killed.” Poe stayed away from you through his explanation, his voice drifting by more quietly with each word. “None of them made it home. Because of me.”

The urge to go to him, to wrap him in your arms and comfort him, nearly overwhelms you for a moment before he continues. “I told you to leave because I didn’t want you, of all people, to see me break. I shattered that night, and when the sun rose and I realized that I’d made a huge mistake, you had already transferred and I didn’t see you again for weeks.”

Silent tears fall from your eyes at his admissions; the truths he laid in front of you. “So I let you go,” he whispers, “because it felt like some sort of karmic justice to lose you for what happened to those fighters.”

You find your voice again and say, “I’m sorry about the mission, I didn’t know… But that doesn’t make any of this better. It doesn’t excuse the fact that you didn’t even try.”

“You haven’t let me try.” His quiet voice begins to turn to ice.

“How was I supposed to know you even wanted to? You knew where my quarters were, you have access to all my orders; you could’ve come talk to me at any time and yet you didn’t.”

Heavy footsteps move away toward the edge of the tower. Without turning, you can picture his face in the starlight: his eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed, muscles in his jaw and neck jumping as he clenches his teeth. “You said I didn’t try. That I made it obvious I didn’t want you around. Well, Captain,” he spits your rank into the night, “you made it pretty clear as well that you didn’t want to be near me. Switching squads and dodging me at every turn.”

“You have no right-” you begin, but Poe cuts you off.

“I have every right!” His yell echoes off the gently rolling hills surrounding the base. “I have every damn right when you throw accusations in my face like this. You wanna talk about someone leaving or giving up? How about we talk about how all it took was one bad night for me for you to completely push me away?”

Rage begins simmering in your gut again, bringing you to your feet and back across the tower. “You never gave me any indication that you were dealing with more than the normal amount of stress. I tried everything I could to ease that stress for you; bringing you food when you were drowning in paperwork in your room, letting you fuck me every night even when you couldn’t look me in the eye, ignoring every red flag just to try and prove to you that I was there through it all. And it was never enough.”

“Well, I guess that’s our answer, then.” Poe keeps his gaze locked with yours, eyes gleaming with fury and sadness.

Your heart shatters. “I… I guess it is.”

“I’ll send someone else up here.” Poe lingers for a heartbeat, fists clenched at his side, before turning and heading down the stairs, leaving you alone. 

You stare out over base, watching Poe’s form disappear from view in the night, each step a death knell in your bones. Any future you daydreamed about fades with each passing breath. By the time Poe’s replacement makes it up the tower, the early morning wind has dried your tears and frozen a thick casing of ice around your heart.

[its-your-mind]

I have been waiting with bated breath for the moment that prompted “Help, it’s again” but fucking NOTHING could have prepared me for how fucking done Cad sounded when he said it. casting Bless on the people who might be able to get him out but just kinda accepting how things are. immediately followed by being scooped up by giant owl Caleb and just going limp and letting Caleb carry him bc fuck this day. fuck this jungle. the wilderness is a trap he wants to be back home with his graves and his tea.

[inkmonster21]

Hearts Across the Divide

12.) The Failure

Noa x Fem!Human!Reader

Series Masterlist

~oOo~

Loui, fueled by determination, arrives at his village. He swiftly sets about gathering his resources and troops, amassing spears, bows, and arrows, drawing upon almost their entire arsenal of weaponry. The young ape leader is determined to handle the situation without relying on Noa.

As the sky turns into a canvas of vibrant hues, Loui's troops line up. Gemm, with practiced precision, applies war paint to Wuka's features, crafting intricate patterns that symbolize strength and determination. Loui, next in line, stands tall, ready for his transformation into a warrior.

For Wuka, donning the war paint was a rare occurrence, a relic of a time when conflicts required such measures. However, the recent development of your abduction had ignited a fire within him, pushing him to don the paint once again. The village, recognizing your significance, also felt a deep connection to you, and your capture had ignited a protective fire within everyone.

Under the cover of the night, the group of 10 apes commences their journey, led by the determined figures of Loui and Wuka. The two apes take the lead, their keen senses and tracking skills guiding the group as they follow the trail left behind by your captors.

Loui and Wuka, determined to bring you home safely, were unfazed by the thought of spending days, even potentially weeks, out in the wilderness. Their commitment to your rescue burned brighter than any obstacle they might encounter.

After two days of tracking, the group finally closes in on the sound of laughter and hoots, indicating the presence of an enemy camp. Night has descended upon the landscape, offering the perfect cover to approach their adversaries under the cloak of darkness. The team stealthily moves forward, wary of each step to avoid detection as they draw nearer to the source of the ruckus.

The scene that unfolded before them was one of peculiar camaraderie between human men and apes, both engaging in banter, drinking, and laughing together. Among the apes, however, they could detect the signs of warriors who had seen their fair share of combat, their scars and weary eyes telling a tale of struggle and violence.

As their eyes scanned the gathering, one particular ape stood out from the others. His towering stature and dark demeanor commanded attention, exuding an air of self-importance that demanded respect. The ape's gaze was fixed with a look of intense hatred, as though he were anticipating an event of great significance. The air crackled with tension as he lingered, his dark eyes watching and waiting.

Wuka's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and shock at the sights before them. This was a first, never having seen these apes before, and the proximity to humans after so long only added to the surrealness.

Loui, meanwhile, clenched his muscles, his breaths becoming heavier as he fixed his gaze upon the large ape. There was no doubting it; this towering figure was the leader of this ragtag group.

Loui gave a subtle signal to his fellow apes, a slight gesture that was nearly imperceptible. His words were hushed, yet full of determination. "On my move," he repeated, the message understood by the group. The apes understood the cue, and a sense of collective adrenaline began to rise. With bated breath, they waited for the command to move, their focus fixed on Loui's signal.

Loui moved swiftly and silently, landing in the camp with barely a sound. His gaze scanned the area, searching for any sign of you. Yet, there was no glimpse of your presence amongst the hoots and cackling of their adversaries.

Loui searched with a desperate fervor, his eyes darting around the camp, desperately scouring every inch searching for a sign of your presence. But no matter how high or low he looked, your whereabouts remained a mystery.

Loui, poised to enter a tent in his desperate search, is suddenly halted by the sound of a low voice behind him. “Looking for something?” Startled, he whirls around to face the source, his eyes locking with whoever spoke.

The towering ape, exuding an aura of menace, towered over Loui with a chilling grin across his face. The power dynamic was immediately noticeable, the large ape displaying an air of authority and dominance.

Loui's voice was a low, gravelly rumble, his question filled with a mixture of anger and determination. "Where is she?" he demands, his eyes narrowing as he meets the gaze of the larger ape, demanding an answer.

The large ape's smug smirk remained fixed on his face as he stared down at Loui, taking a moment before finally responding. He relished the power he held in this moment, the knowledge that he was the one in control.

“Did I not say… for Noa… to come claim his pet?”

The large ape's tone was mocking, dripping with a hint of smugness. The emphasis was deliberate, a reminder that you were seen as nothing more than a possession in his eyes.

At Loui's signal, the apes from his party suddenly dropped down from the treetops, launching themselves into the fray. The element of surprise was exploited as they began their assault on the enemy camp.

Despite the sudden onslaught, the large ape's reaction was shockingly calm. Rather than being caught off guard, he seemed almost amused by the attack, replying with a snarky response, "Is this all you brought?."

Within the chaos of the attack, Loui and the large ape engaged in a fierce tussle, their bodies locked in a struggle for dominance. The sounds of grunts and growls filled the air as the two powerful figures clashed violently.

The intensity of the battle escalated, with some of the village apes being brutally beaten. Many were nearing the brink of death, while others had already fallen in the fight. The odds were stacked against Loui's group, their numbers quickly dwindling under the onslaught of their adversaries.

Wuka fought valiantly, but he found himself quickly overpowered by a brutal blow to his back. He stumbled, collapsing to the ground with a loud thud, his body racked with pain and fatigue.

"Loui!" Wuka's voice echoed weakly, a desperate cry for help as he lay weakened on the ground. His body ached from the blow he had sustained, his strength fading as he tried to push himself back up.

Wuka spoke with strained breaths, his voice filled with determination despite his weakened state. "Save her… at all costs." he urged, his eyes meeting Loui's gaze with fierce intensity. The weight of his final words sank in, a final plea to prioritize your safety amidst the chaos of the battlefield.

Wuka's eyes, once aflame with determination, gradually lost their brightness, the life slowly seeping away. With each passing moment, the light within them diminished, until finally, they became vacant, a poignant sign that his spirit had departed from this world.

Loui's grief-stricken cry echoed through the night as he watched Wuka's life slip away. Anger coursed through him, fueling his every movement. The ape towering over him took the opportunity to shove him down, a smirk spreading across his face as he reveled in his power over Loui.

The large ape grabbed hold of Loui, dragging his battered form to the edge of the camp. With a dismissive gesture, he tossed Loui outside, his words ringing out clear and cold. "I want Noa." The message was simple, a demand for Noa to present himself.

The six apes remaining, battered and bruised, emerged from the camp, their numbers reduced to half of what they had initially begun with. They staggered weakly, each bearing the marks of the brutal battle they had endured. Four of their fellow apes had fallen in the onslaught, their bodies left behind in the camp's clutches.

As Loui returned to the village, his heart ached with the weight of his newfound responsibility. He had lost his father and now held the mantle of chief, a role he had never desired but was now thrust upon him. The absence of Wuka was a void that could not be filled, leaving a sense of emptiness that echoed through the village.

Haunted by his father's last words, Loui now bears the burden of fulfilling Wuka's final wish. With a heavy heart, he realizes that saving you will require the very person he once harbored animosity towards – Noa. The weight of this realization weighs on his soul, but the memory of his father's voice urges him forward.

He did not want Noa’s help, but he needed it.

[danisbrainrot]

i had this idea myself but i’m too lazy to write it so i thought i’d share and i know u wanted to write something about natalie 😛

natalie getting her hair cut (maybe even bleached) by one of the yjs ‼️‼️ came to me in a dream but i haven’t been bothered to write it

lottie matthews x natalie scatorccio

I had to do my babies!! thank you for the ask, I was dying to write for nat!! this is an au where they crashed but lottie didn't get sent to switzerland, but moved in with natalie.

snip snip snip. the scissors felt natural in lottie's hands, but the danger of her hands holding such a weapon that close to natalie's neck worried her. she felt her hands shake as she began to overthink, before sucking in a deep breath and taking a step away.

"you alright?" natalie's keen eyes watched her through the mirror, concerned at lottie's reaction. "I swear, if my hair is above my ears again—"

lottie shook her head swiftly, "no, no. I'm not making that mistake again. . . just shaky," she replied. natalie snorted, absentmindedly playing with the ring lottie had gotten her for her birthday.

the pleasing sounds of scissors making their way through natalie's hair comforted the blonde. "my regrowth getting pretty bad," she commented. lottie hummed absentmindedly, which nat took to mean agreement. "I mean, not as bad as when we were rescued. . . but I think I should get it done again," lottie bit her bottom lip in concentration, ignoring what nat was saying as she focused on fixing the blondes split ends problem.

it was silent for a minute longer, even lottie's breath was bated as she pulled out a long strand of hair before snipping it off. "sorry, what were you saying?"

"nothing. since when were you such a good hairdresser?" natalie teased, a wide grin on her face.

lottie sighed, shaking her head, "I gave all my dolls haircuts," she replied, shrugging her shoulders. "your roots need touching up, I've got foils but they might be dodgy," natalie snorted, shaking her head.

"thanks, lot. but I think I'll get that done by the pros," natalie teased, playing with her hair, amazed at the new feel. lottie smiled, proud of her work.

"you know what my payment is," lottie teased, jumping up on the kitchen counter, crossing her arms across her chest.

natalie rolled her eyes, sighing but getting up. "if I'd known you'd shrink out of your chores, I never would have asked you to move in," she joked, opening the dishwasher.

lottie raised a questioning eyebrow, "you would have let my parents send me to switzerland?" she asked, eliciting a chuckle from natalie.

"probably would've chased right after you," natalie retorted, opening the top cabinets to put away the cups.

lottie smiled softly, knowing that it was a sweet lie natalie told her. in fact, lottie was sure natalie only asked her to move in because she still felt some kind of need to protect her—as if she didn't leave her leadership behind in the wilderness.

"I hope you're okay with pasta for dinner, because that's all I know how to cook," natalie announced, snapping lottie out of her thoughts.

lottie rolled her eyes, and shook her head, "wow, I gave up switzerland, land of the meatballs, just for pasta every night," she sighed teasingly.

"after the shit we went through, I'm shocked more of us didn't go vegetarian. sometimes I see a piece of meat and. . ." natalie paused, realising that she wasn't joking anymore and instead leading towards dangerous territory.

the two had tried to avoid talking about the wilderness beyond silly jokes. it felt too real. like their trauma was haunting them—that the people they'd eaten were lingering around their house. the time they'd spent in those woods had such a profound impact on them, on their relationship, it was inconceivable that they could ever live without each other.

some nights, when the nightmares made them jolt, lottie finds herself flinging out of her bed and into natalie's arms—even though they both know damn well why she shouldn't be there. natalie was dating travis, and lottie wasn't mentally stable for a relationship yet. but still, that didn't prevent them from sharing a bed every so often. . . they convince themselves it was a perfectly normal thing for friends to do.

lottie sighed, watching natalie bend over to take out the cutlery holder. "did you hear tai's a vegetarian now? must have the same thought process as you," lottie mumbled. natalie chuckled again, looking at lottie in disbelief.

"that'll last three weeks. she loves pork ribs just a little too much," natalie teased, chucking the cutlery in the drawer, not bothering to check if it was in the right slot.

"are you sure you don't want me to redo your roots?" lottie asked abruptly. it would sound like a purposeful topic change to anyone except natalie, who knew the brunette was having her own conversation in her mind.

"okay, if you insist. but I'm not doing your laundry, that's where I draw the line," she joked, her mouth cracking up into a toothy grin.

lottie rolled her eyes, "like I'd let you in my room, I've seen you eyeing my pilgrim hat" she teased.

natalie licked her lips, "why would I want that when it looks better on you?" lottie felt her cheeks heat up, but before either of them had time to realise what that could mean, she quickly added, "nevermind, I might need it after you're done with my hair."

lottie snorted, rolling her eyes at the implication. "shut up. i'll get the foils now." a soft smile appeared on nat's face as she watched the brunette leave with a bounce in her step.

[isfjmel-phleg]

I have neither the time nor the inclination to reread every single one of these this Christmas season, but I'd like to get to some of them and wanted a reference. These are nonexhaustive lists of books from my own collection.

Christmas as a primary theme/setting

While Shepherds Watch by E. L. Bates

I Am Half Sick of Shadows and Thrice the Brinded Cat Hath Mewed by Alan Bradley

The Snow Sister by Emma Carroll

"The Flying Stars" by G. K. Chesterton

A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

"The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle" by Arthur Conan Doyle

The Sister of the Angels by Elizabeth Goudge

Addy's Surprise by Connie Porter

"The Necklace of Pearls" by Dorothy L. Sayers

Samantha's Surprise by Maxine Rose Schur

Kirsten's Surprise by Janet Beeler Shaw

Noel Streatfeild's Christmas Stories by Noel Streatfeild

Felicity's Surprise, Josefina's Surprise, Kit's Surprise, and Molly's Surprise by Valerie Tripp

The Birds' Christmas Carol by Kate Douglas Wiggin

"Jeeves and the Yule-Tide Spirit" by P. G. Wodehouse

Not about Christmas primarily but have memorable sequences set then

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

Ramona and Her Father by Beverly Cleary

Hans Brinker by Mary Mapes Dodge

The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C. S. Lewis

Tenthragon by Constance Savery

Most of the Shoes books but especially Theater Shoes/Curtain Up by Noel Streatfeild

Nevermoor: The Trials of Morrigan Crow by Jessica Townsend

Most of the Little House books but especially Little House in the Big Woods, Little House on the Prairie, and By the Shores of Silver Lake by Laura Ingalls Wilder

[titlemewickedwonderland]

Ghoul Game Night - Dewdrop

Summary: As the newest member of Papa's ghouls Y/n is dragged into a game night with her ghoul pack mates to get to know them! A little game of spin the bottle and truth or dare ends up becoming one hell of a night to remember!

Fandom: Ghost Band

Pairing: Dewdrop x Ghoul!reader

!Warning!: Sexual innuendos, dirty talk, sexual tension, oral fixation. Slutty Dewdrop

Workshop!

The bottle was cool under her touch as Dew handed it to her. She stretched to allow it to rest on the clear spot in front of her before she flicked her wrist to let it go spiraling round and round. She bit her lip as she waited with bated breath to see just who she was gonna be playing this game with. She'd heard of the game 7 Minutes in Heaven before but from how the guys described this game...well there would be no hiding away for this game night and she flushed darker thinking of all the things these guys would dare each other to do. She just hoped they would have mercy on the newest member of the pack; a part of her seemed to know that it may not always be like that - she could only hope to get someone that wasn't Dew or Swiss since they had shown their...wilder traits straight off the bat but now that she thought about it the quiet ones may be something to watch out for - she shot a look between Rain and Mountain on either side wondering if they were as bad as the outwardly wilder ghouls when behind closed doors or if they were pretty chill like Aether.

The bottle finally slowly and she looked up expectingly to the lucky or unlucky fellow she'd be partnering up with her heart leaped a bit with intimidation when she caught the firey orbs of Dew's eyes. Why couldn't Satan have been merciful and allowed her first round to be with Aether out of all of them? Aether was safe. He was kind. He wouldn't make her do something stupid. But no, she was paired with Dew. Maybe if she was super lucky Dew would have mercy on her but the glint in his eyes told her he wouldn't, that sadistic little gremlin.

Licking her lips nervously she played with Dew's blanket that now suddenly felt too hot over her lap. "Well, looks like it's on you Dew...Will you have me do truth or dare?" she asked softly hoping that her eyes portrayed her hesitancy to do a dare even when her gaze flickered across the room nervously.

"Don't forget doll...whichever one he chooses for you...he'll have to do the opposite box." Swiss smirked from where he was lounging back on his palms watching with evident amusement.

"Who knows? Maybe he'll risk giving himself the lesser evils and you'll be stuck with something you don't like." the multi-ghoul added with a snicker.

Dear Lucifer those two would be the near death of Y/n no doubt. The Ghulah met the fire ghoul's eyes again and tipped her head slightly silently asking him what he wanted to do.

He stared her down without blinking before he took a prolonged breath as if trying to draw out the tension and then spoke up. "I choose for you to do a truth."

Y/n breathed a sigh of relief as everyone whooped in excitement, but their reactions didn't make her feel too safe even when she thought about it. She gulped and stared over at Dew who was preparing to pour a shot with raised brows as if anticipating her to back down. Hell, she didn't even know the question just yet! She waved him off and squared her shoulders.

"I'll do it. Pick it out." her bravo crumbled slightly as Rain let out an encouraging purr and bumped her shoulder a bit with his encouragement making her blush further with the contact as he spoke.

"You won't be acting like that if you knew who wrote the truths and dares..."

"Eh? What do you..." Y/n looked over at Aether who was sliding the two boxes towards Dewdrop.

"The girls wrote them out...Do you think we're bad? You haven't hung out with the girls...they're some sadistic dirty-minded bunch." he told her with a shake of his head

Dewdrop's smile faded a bit when he remembered and he groaned dropping his head. "Shit, I forgot they wrote that shit." he grumbled before throwing back the shot of burning alcohol that was meant for the newbie knowing he'd need it more than her most likely.

Setting the glass down with a thunk he dug his hand into the black box that was labeled 'Truths' before unfolding it; a smirk gracing his angular features as he read it briefly to himself

"What was the first thing you thought of when you saw me naked for the first time?."

Y/n's eyes widened and Swiss lost it beside Dewdrop howling with laughter. "That's Sunshine right there!"

The Ghulah buried her face into her knees as her ears tinged pink as she listened to the protests of surprise and laugher of the others around her.

"Wait you saw him naked already? When'd you do that?!" Aether spluttered.

"I-In the shower." Y/n bit her lip glancing up meekly. "I-I accidentally walked in on him as he was getting out of the shower..." she confessed

"And? Gotta answer the question doll." Swiss grinned before reaching for Dew's empty shot glass. "Or we can pour you-"

"Hot." Y/n swallowed slowly meeting Dew's eyes from across the circle. 'I thought you were hot...made me hot...I-I liked the tattoos you have...a-and you have a very agile build but...I could see that you possessed some muscles beneath that - like an agile cat I guess; strong in an underestimated way...and I um...I didn't realize you had pierced nipples." Y/n bit her lip looking down at her toes peeking from beneath the blanket.

"Did I turn you on?" Dew's gaze hooded a bit even when his grin turned a little feral at her flustered state

"Ah-AH! She already answered her truth. Now, petal, go ahead and draw a dare for Dewdrop." Mountain's baritone broke the tension and got everyone bad on track as he felt his little companion getting a bit tongue-tied and flustered.

Clearing her throat Y/n reached over to the red box that had been slid over towards her and picked one off the top. She read it in her head and her ears flattened slightly as she covered her eyes. "I-I can't..." she stammered mortified.

"Eh, must be another Sunshine one then." Swiss nodded sagely

Y/n peeked up at Mountain as the big guy rested his tail around her waist. and leaned down to bump his forehead against hers with a low purr.

"Can you...?" Y/n blinked sheepishly up at him and he plucked the white folded strip from her trembling fingers.

"Of course, petal." he replied before looking down at the written text. He blinked before raising a brow and looking up at Dew who was watching with narrowed eyes. "Use my fingers or hand to show me how you enjoy oral sex."

The fact Mountain said it so bluntly and with such a straight face made Y/n whine and cover her face with her hands mortified; shit if only Dew had chosen a dare for her maybe she'd have been able to get that dare and she'd just drink a shot. But Dew had drawn the metaphorical short straw not that he seemed to mind it as his sharp-toothed grin widened.

The little fire ghoul crawled across the space toward her and grabbed her wrist to pull her hands from her face. He nudged her legs until they fell open and he got comfortable on his knees between them. Her ashen skin was tinged pink and her eyes were wide as she tried to control her panting. She never imagined eye contact could be such a hot trait as he never broke hers. His closeness had made her skittish as she scooted backward until she felt Rain's frame lean over her from behind; blocking her escape. She whimpered as Dewdrop reached for her hand again and slowly raised it up between them.

And then he opened his mouth; showing off the sharp fangs and the long inhuman tongue like a two-pronged snake before lowering his head - Y/n's fingers slipped past his lips and into the wet hot heat of his mouth. His eyes stared down at her while his tongue slipped between and around her digits before licking at the tips of them causing her breath to hitch as her eyes focused heavy and wanting on the way her fingers appeared and disappeared into the fire ghoul's mouth. The wetness of his saliva left her fingers glistening in the light as he pulled back to the tips; his lips kissed each wet digit before nipping at her fingerpads causing her to squirm. When he descended seconds letter at a slow torturous pace Rain groaned from behind the Ghuleh. The groan turned into a full-on growl of arousal as Dewdrop opened his mouth wide enough to show his turned-on packmates the glide of Y/n's fingers rubbing up along the soft wet heat of his tongue.

"Shit firebug. You thinking of someone's cock right now when you do that?" Rain commented watching Dew's eyes fluttered slightly at the sound of his aroused words and close his lips back around Y/n's digits causing her to whine when she felt the pressure of his mouth as he sucked.

"Hmm." Dewdrop hummed before pulling off and licking his lips. "Maybe." he grinned lazily while resting Y/n's hand against the heat of his cheek and turned his head slightly to nip at her thumb.

"Okay..." Y/n's dazed expression said it all if the scent of her sweetness permeating the air between them didn't point a red neon sign above her head how turned on she was right then.

Dew grinned and licked a stripe up along her exposed wrist. "You know where to find me for the real deal, sweets. If you're interested." he winked before letting her go and watched as she sagged back into Rain's chest

"Damn Dewy, give a warning next time," Swiss grumbled and readjusted himself as subtly as he could as the little gremlin walked with a teasing sway of his hips back to his spot beside Swiss and plopped himself onto the multi-ghoul's thigh.

"Aw, jealous Swiss?" Dewdrop grinned lying a teasing kiss to the other's cheek.

"Oh just you wait until this game's over; we'll see who's fucking jealous, firelily." Swiss gripped his thigh in a promise.

"Well...that was a show." Aether agreed clearing his throat and looked around the rest of the pack who all held some sort of dazed look in their ways from their little show. "Who wants to go next?"

Shit, with that kind of start...the game may be turned into something else completely. Satan below only knew their little Ghuleh could turn a whole pack of ghouls into something so unseemingly and she didn't even know her power over them yet. The game certainly was turning into something far more interesting than anticipated - Aether will have to thank the girls with a spa day or something after tonight.

Auth. Note: Check Workshop hub for alternative episodes of Ghoul's Game Night with your favorite characters!

[yoga-onion]

Legends and myths about trees

Celtic beliefs in trees (15)

H for Huath (Hawthorn) - May 13th - June 9th

“May tree - Sixth month of the Celtic tree calendar (Ref)”

colour: midnight blue; Gem: lapis lazuli; Gender: female; Patrons: Olwen, Blodeuedd, Chaldean, Humen, Selene, Virgin Mary; Symbols: love + marriage, fertility + birth, reproduction, heart

The short, thorny, graceful hawthorn. The slender hawthorn trunk and branches twist as the years go by. In winter they are particularly beautiful, standing clinging to misty wildernesses and craggy rocky outcrops, or clustered on open ranges of hills that their appearance is spectacular. Leaves and flowers appear simultaneously in May, signalling the change of season from spring to summer. Hawthorn flowers bloom in clusters, so that at the height of spring, rows of white froth run across the fields and mountains, a scene aptly captured by the English writer H. E. Bates as 'the fluffy cream floating in May'.

In spring, when the hawthorn flowers are in full bloom, the air releases a musky, sweet, rich fragrance all around. Small round berries turn burgundy in autumn.

In Ireland, hawthorn is still cherished as a magical tree protected by the fairy kingdom. Tradition has it that if you cut down a single hawthorn tree standing alone in a field or burial mound, you will lose your livestock and household possessions.

Hawthorn trees protect wells and springs as fairy trees. The beautiful flowers of hawthorn are also said to deliver prayers to the heavens. Even today, many people tie rags and other items to hawthorn trees standing near wells and springs, wishing for good luck or that their love will reach the person they love.

Before Christianity, hawthorn was the supreme fertility symbol and at the May Festival, people confided their love, danced to their heart's content and made love in the woods. Among the Celts, spring was the season for marriage, and it was customary to bring a bouquet of hawthorn flowers to weddings to ensure that the couple would be blessed with children.

In Britain, the earliest known hawthorn goddess was Olwen ('white footprints'), a woman of courage, wit and beauty. The well-known mythological tale of Culhwch and Olwen, in which King Arthur's cousin, Culhwch, overcame 40 impossible tasks that seemed virtually unattainable set out by Olwen's father, the giant king, Yspaddaden, and marry his beloved Olwen.

As the beautiful, white hawthorn flowers opened, people celebrated the power of nature and love to bring new life into the world and marvelled at the miracles of sexual activity, pregnancy and childbirth. For the Celts, sexual activity, pregnancy and childbirth were not something to be ashamed of, but an essential part of life and a sacred expression that one could love.

木にまつわる伝説・神話

ケルト人の樹木の信仰 (15)

HはHuath (ｻﾝｻﾞｼ) - 5月13日 - 6月9日

『5月の木〜 ケルトの木の暦（参照）の第6月』

色: ミッドナイト・ブルー; 宝石: ラピスラズリ; 性: 女性; 守護神: オルェン、ブロダイウェズ、カルデア、ヒュメン、セレネ、聖母マリア; シンボル: 愛＋結婚、豊穣＋出産、生殖、心臓

背丈が低くとげをもった優雅なサンザシ。ほっそりとしたサンザシの幹や枝は、年が経つにつれてねじれていく。冬になるとその姿は特に美しく、霧の立ち込めた荒野や、ごつごつとした岩の露頭にしがみつくように立つ姿、また広々と連なる丘に群れをなしている様子は、見事というより他はない。葉と花は5月に同時に姿を現し、春から夏に季節が変わることを知らせている。サンザシの花は群れを成して咲くことから、春の盛り、白い泡立ちの列が野山を縦横に走り、その様子を英国人作家のH・E・ベイツは、「五月に浮かび上がるふわふわしたクリーム」と的確に表現している。

春、サンザシの花が満開になると、麝香 (じゃこう)のような甘く濃厚な香りがあたり一面に放たれる。小さな丸い実は、秋になるとワインレッドに変わる。

アイルランドでは今もなお、サンザシは妖精の国に守られた魔法の木として大切にされている。野原や埋葬塚に一本だけぽつんと立っているサンザシの木を切ると家畜を失うか家財を無くすという伝承もある。

サンザシは妖精の木として、井戸や泉を守っている。また、サンザシの美しい花は祈りを天まで届けてくれるという。現在でも井戸や泉のそばに立つサンザシには、幸運が訪れるますように、あるいは好きな人に思いが届きますようにと願う大勢の人々が、布きれや品物を結び付けている。

キリスト教以前は、サンザシは最高の豊穣のシンボルであり、5月祭には、人々は愛を打ち明け、心ゆくまで踊り明かし、森で愛を交わした。ケルト人の間で春は結婚の季節であり、夫婦が子宝に恵まれるように、結婚式にはサンザシの花束を持っていく習慣があった。

英国では、サンザシの女神として最も古くから知られているのが、勇気と機転と美貌の持ち主、オルェン (‘白い足跡’の意)。アーサー王の従兄弟であるキルフーフが、オルェンの父である巨人の王アスパザデンが課した事実上達成不可能と思われる40の無理難題を克服し、愛するオルウェンと結婚した神話『キルフーフとオルェン』がよく知られている。

美しく、そして白いサンザシの花が開くと、人々は、新しい命を宿す自然と愛の力を祝福し、性の営み、妊娠、出産という奇蹟に驚きの声を上げた。ケルト人にとって、性行為や妊娠、出産は恥ずべきことではなく、人生になくてはならない大切な一部であり、人は愛することができるということの神聖な表現であった。

[girlnextmorgue]

Helen Otis x Reader: You would sleep with me (if you could do it comfortably)

Hiiii everyone it's me I'm back :P I'm finding that I don't really agree with my past characterizations of these characters but I'm gonna leave my old posts up anyway... anyways here's a Helen oneshot I wrote last night. It's sort of a continuation of the first one I wrote (read that here) but can be read as a standalone. It's crossposted on AO3 (here) and I love getting kudos so please gas it up there if you so choose :P Reader is gender neutral (they/them pronouns) and (Y/N) is used.. It isn't smutty or anything (sorry) but it's kind of romantic. Around 1300ish words (a little less). I hope you enjoy!

edit: pspspsps heyy look theres a 3rd part HERE!!! if u enjoy this go read that ok bye...

-

The screen door swung shut with a sharp smack. The sound used to make Helen jump, but he’d grown used to it with all the time he’d spent out on the porch. It was early spring now, and sprigs of green were beginning to poke their way out of the ground in the midst of all the brown. A chilly breeze carried all the fresh smells of spring, along with… cigarette smoke?

“Hey, handsome.”

That made Helen jump. His head snapped to his right, and he was graced with the sight of a familiar face leaning against the railing, lit cigarette in hand. The corners of his lips twitched. He was fighting back a smile.

“You’re back.” He said matter-of-factly, trying to seem uncaring, and not as if he had been awaiting their return with bated breath (god, he couldn’t believe it, he was acting like a damsel.) “Where were you?”

“If I told you,” they paused to take a drag (and, Helen suspected, to add dramatic effect), turning to look at the trees as they exhaled, “I’d have to kill you.”

Although there was a playful grin on their face, Helen knew that they were only half joking. The Operator’s proxies were incredibly hush-hush about their missions, and (Y/N) was no exception. Usually, he didn’t mind too much, but Helen had found that he was much more curious than he wanted to be, at least when it came to (Y/N).

“So.” (Y/N) spun around so that their back was now facing the woods. They motioned to the sketchbook in Helen’s hands. “Draw any pretty pictures lately?” They grinned.

Right. Helen had come out here to draw. He unconsciously tightened his grip on the book, averting his eyes. Since that fateful winter afternoon, he had been inspired to draw things other than the trees… (Y/N) in particular had become his unknowing muse. 

No way in hell was he showing them that. They’d probably think he was a creepy freak and never speak to him again. As much as Helen hated to admit it to himself, he didn’t think he’d be able to handle that happening. 

So instead, he fumbled for words, trying to save himself. “Uh, you know… more of the same, nothing new.” Helen refused to meet (Y/N)’s eyes. He chewed on the inside of his mouth nervously, picking at the edge of his sketchbook. He felt as if he was a child that had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

(Y/N) pursed their lips and then sighed, seeming to decide not to press his buttons about it. Over the course of their blossoming friendship, they’d learned that Helen could be quite protective over his artwork. It was best to leave it be.

So, (Y/N) changed the subject, knowing that Helen wouldn’t do it on his own. “Why don’t we sit, hmm? I’m tired of standing. I feel like I’ve been standing for like, like forever, man.”

“Okay.” Helen said, his shoulders sagging in relief. (Y/N) stubbed their cigarette out on the railing before they moved to plop down on the porch steps, their hiking boots clunking against the stairs as they got situated. Helen took his usual place next to them.

The pair settled into a comfortable silence, just staring out at the wilderness. Helen’s sketchbook lay on the stair, untouched. He couldn’t bring himself to open it in front of them just yet.

Instead, he looked over at (Y/N), trying to remain discreet. Early on in their friendship, Helen had decided that he liked their face (purely from an artistic standpoint, he was sure) and so he had taken it upon himself to memorize it (again, purely for artistic reasons). Not much had changed about them since he’d last seen them. There was a bandaid on their cheek, sure, but other than that they were still the same (Y/N). 

Except, they looked so tired. Deep, dark circles rimmed their eyes, and their eyes themselves were completely bloodshot. Helen was all too familiar with this kind of tired, something he experienced after many sleepless nights sitting at his easel. He was shocked that (Y/N) was managing to stay awake in their state.

“Haven’t I told you that it’s rude to stare?” (Y/N) asked suddenly, startling Helen. They turned to him, cocking an eyebrow. Despite how exhausted they seemed, they were still alert as ever. A proxy trait, no doubt. “Do I have something on my face, orrrrr…”

“No, no…” He shook his head, looking forward again. He really wasn’t appreciating what the teasing lilt in their voice was doing to his brain and heart, but his concern for them seemed to outweigh that. God, he hated that he was concerned. What was wrong with him?

“Then what? You like what you see or somethin’?” (Y/N) leaned in expectantly, smirking. What an asshole.

Despite how close (Y/N) had gotten, Helen managed to look them in the eye (though he was practically holding his breath). “You look… tired, (Y/N). Really tired.”

(Y/N)’s smile softened, the mischief in their eyes fading. They moved back slightly, looking back out at the forest. 

“Are you… alright?” Helen asked hesitantly, brows furrowed in concern.

(Y/N) sighed, taking a moment to answer. “...Yeah, I’m fine.” They brought a hand up to their face, rubbing one of their eyes absently. “‘S just… you’re right. I’m way tired.”

“...I know.” Helen mumbled, gaze never leaving their face. His hands twitched in his lap, wanting to do something to comfort his weary friend. Instead, he asked, “Rough mission?”

“So rough, ugh.” (Y/N) laughed quietly, as if they were reminiscing about a happy memory. “I got into a crazy fight with this guy – man, he almost killed me. You should’ve seen him though, I messed him up.” 

Helen frowned. He knew that they shouldn’t be telling him these things, and he was not a fan of the idea of (Y/N) putting themselves in danger. It was a part of their job, sure, but in his heart he wished it didn’t have to be. 

“(Y/N)...” They perked up when he spoke their name and his heart nearly jumped out of his chest. “I think you should go and get some rest.”

(Y/N) huffed, their expression going sour. “Yeah, but… I wanna-” they cut themselves off with a yawn before continuing, “I wanna spend time with you, y’know? It’s been a while. I missed you.” 

Helen felt like he was going to die at those words, his heart pounding against his ribcage. “Oh, well, um…” I missed you too, he wanted to say, but he couldn’t bring himself to.

“I have an idea.” (Y/N) said suddenly, scootching toward Helen until their legs were touching and their shoulders were touching and oh god-

And then (Y/N) leaned their head on Helen’s shoulder and all he could smell was lavender shampoo and cigarette smoke and he was going to faint (but he didn’t). Their hair tickled his neck and they were so warm and Helen wished he could wrap his arms around them and pull them closer. Instead, he sat stiff as a board, breath caught in his throat.

(Y/N) either was too tired to notice or didn’t care. “Wake me up if something interesting happens, okay?” Was all they said before knocking out, snoring lightly (oh my god they snore).

They were definitely going to kill him.

[thewarmestplacetohide]

Dread by the Decade: Shadow of a Doubt

👻 You can support me on Ko-Fi! ❤️

★★★★½

Plot: When her beloved uncle comes to visit, a young woman begins to fear he is not the man she thought him to be.

Review: A master class in quiet dread and the power of subtext, Shadow of a Doubt is as nerve-racking as it is tragic.

Year: 1943 Genre: Psychological Horror Country: United States Language: English Runtime: 1 hour 48 minutes

Director: Alfred Hitchcock Writers: Thornton Wilder, Sally Benson, Alma Reville Cinematographer: Joseph A. Valentine Editor: Milton Carruth Composers: Dimitri Tiomkin, Franz Lehár Cast: Teresa Wright, Joseph Cotten, Patricia Collinge, Henry Travers, Edna May Wonacott, Macdonald Carey, Charles Bates

-----

Story: 4/5 - It expertly builds tension through disturbing dialogue and what is left unseen, with its only fault being a pointless romantic subplot.

Performances: 4.5/5 - Cotten is fantastic as a charming egomaniac whose veneer is slowly cracking, and Wright is perfect as his foil.

Cinematography: 5/5 - An exceptional combination of stark shadows, steady tracking shots, and strange angles.

Editing: 3.5/5 - Occasionally a bit abrupt.

Music: 4.5/5 - Very complementary and stressful.

Effects & Props: 3.5/5 - A bit rushed but decent for the time.

Sets: 4/5

Costumes, Hair, & Make-Up: 4.5/5

Trigger Warnings:

Mild violence

Heavily implied incest and child sexual abuse

Misogyny (criticized by the film)

Familial abuse

[elldritch-horror]

So, there's this post I've been mentally drafting for a bit, which in its simplest terms boils down to:

broke: people at work asking 'how was your weekend' are genuinely interested in the minutiae of your weekend

woke: people at work asking 'how was your weekend' are doing so as small talk, and don't care about your weekend

bespoke: people at work asking 'how was your weekend' are probably not explicitly and specifically interested in your weekend, but they probably are interested in you, and in fostering a social bond with you

I think there's a tendancy among those of us for whom Small Talk is not a native language to get stuck at the realisation that we aren't as interesting as we thought, and Janice in marketing doesn't sit there with bated breath waiting for us to come in on a Monday morning so she can hear about the pizza we had for dinner on Saturday night. It kinda hurts, and feels like everyone around is disingenuous, and just pretending to care about us when they don't.

For me, it took me a long time to realise and properly internalise the idea that small talk isn't pointless noise, just because it doesn't mean what it says on the tin. People are interested in you! Just maybe not in the exact ways you thought. They're probably just as interested in you as you are in them, and this is their way of extending an invitation to connection.

That was going to be the whole post, but then my brain did that thing where it connected some dots which probably aren't really dots, and don't connect at all, so take the following musings with a big ol' helping of salt, but...

In autism assessments they ask about trauma. As I understand it, they ask this because autistic and c-ptsd traits overlap so much it can be hard to untangle exactly where those traits are coming from.

I was thinking about this, and I got to seeing a kind of logic to the groups of people for whom 'lovely weather today, isn't it' is a typical social opening gambit, compared to the people for whom 'hey, here's my childhood trauma wrapped up as a funny anecdote' is a more solid introduction.

Maybe, if you're the sort of person who is privileged enough to be able to assume that your basic self will be largely palatable to most people, the relationship model of gradually increasing intimacy makes perfect sense.

If you're someone who can't make that assumption, either because of being part of a marginalised community, or because of trauma, then that simple path towards a relationship becomes a trek into unfamiliar wilderness, where you have no way of knowing at the outset whether the road leads you somewhere beautiful, or around a blind bend and straight off a cliff. You don't want to invest weeks or months talking about weather and weekend plans before you find out that Janice in marketing is actually a white supremacist or terf.

Why does all this matter? Well, maybe it doesn't. But I've been really fucking isolated for a good few years now, because I figured out that people didn't care about my weekend plans, and I got stuck there, and spent my time exclusively interacting with people who matched my internal model of relationship building by starting deep. And don't get me wrong, I built myself some wonderful relationships, but not many.

Recently I've been trying to broaden my horizons, and build bonds with people who aren't exactly like me, and there's so much joy in it, y'all! Sure, it's a bit of extra effort to consciously walk myself through the conversational template of 'question?' 'reasonably brief answer with reciprocal question' etc, but I've met some people I really like, and I'm excited to spend more time with.

And when you're doing these things consciously, you have the option of asking for a map, before plunging into that wilderness. Maybe when they ask about your weekend, the part of your weekend you highlight is one that subtly points at whatever topic you might feel unsafe about, in a non-confrontational way. You saw a drag queen when you waiting for the train. You gave a fiver to the homeless lady outside Morrisons and had a chat about the book she's reading. In a lot of cases, you can weed out the people you really don't want to be cultivating early on.

I don't have a clever and pithy closing statement, so I'll go with awkwardly earnest, instead. A lot of the people I'm building bonds with aren't going to ever become my closest confidantes, but that's okay. We need best friends, but we also need acquaintances. We need whole communities. Sometimes love is lying in bed with someone at 3am discussing your deepest hopes and fears, but sometimes love is also the woman twice your age at the local knit & natter who remembers that you like sugar in your coffee.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Week 4 - Music

Back to the roots for me...

Have a multichapter story about Dwarves. Remotely Tarzan-y :D

Prompt: Music

Pairing: Bilbo & OC, Fíli & Kíli

Words: 1310

Warnings: Threat, fear, bad soup

“Keep your eyes open,” Bilbo Baggins warned his assistant as they broke through the dense foliage of the native forest to gracelessly stumble into a wide clearing.

Elya sighed—she’d signed up for this mission, a once-in-a-lifetime chance, to explore a hitherto untouched island and discover exciting new specimens of fauna and flora. Thus far, all they’d found were a few highly interesting trees and a vicious breed of stinging insects.

Her heart sank. She liked the adorably fussy little man waving her closer; Bilbo was incomparably enthusiastic about his work and so knowledgeable that she could have listened to him for hours on end—nevertheless, she’d hoped that they’d have more to show for their efforts after having trudged through the unchartered wilderness for over two weeks.

“Maybe we can set up our camp here for the night and go on tomorrow?” her superior proposed gently when he saw her disheartened face. “We are now very close to the secret heart of the island—I can feel it.”

Nodding, Elya let her heavy pack slide off her sore shoulders. She’d come this far on faith alone—she could and would not falter now so close to the finish line.

Bilbo, with his gentlemanly habits and perfectly polite speech patterns, had turned this haphazard trip into an amazing experience, and she felt bad for repaying him for his boundless generosity with ungrateful moping.

She trusted him, and so she’d gladly trek on for many another gruelling day without complaining if that was what her expedition leader had in mind. 

With calm efficiency, they went through the usual motions without another word, and soon, the odd pair was sitting by a small campfire, nursing insipid but nourishing broth out of steel mugs.

An oddly peaceful nocturnal hush settled on their surroundings, and they were just about to relax into their never-changing evening rituals when an unexpected, entirely incongruous sound cut through the fragrant air.

Music.

Strange, enchanting, and distinctly foreign, the melody was nevertheless undoubtedly the result of a conscious effort.

“But—” Elya whispered, her dark almond eyes wide with incomprehension.

“The island is said to be deserted,” Bilbo agreed under his breath. “However, there has never been anyone to confirm that until now!”

They waited with bated breath, unsure whether they wanted the mysterious musicians to find them or not.

When she looked over, Elya found that Bilbo’s eyes were wide and unmoving with shock while his hand felt blindly along the uneven floor in search of any kind of weapon.

In the end, he grabbed the iron ladle firmly and held it up like a sword in front of his face.

Elya could only suppress a nervous giggle at the very last moment—neither she nor Bilbo were anywhere near accomplished fighters.

Of course, they’d been warned before setting out on their own; two scientists, as small in stature as they were vigorous in mind, were not the kind of people one liked to allow to trundle off on their own.

Especially not if one of them was the renowned and respected researcher Bilbo Baggins, but the stout professor had assured Elya that he anticipated no serious dangers they couldn’t foresee, prevent, or at least eschew easily.

And she had simply believed him.

The minutes ticked by—the forest didn’t move, but neither did the music fade.

“Is it growing louder?” Elya asked breathlessly as she followed Bilbo’s gauging look to the smoking fire.

They were not only woefully exposed, but they were as good as advertising their exact position. Even though a bright fire might have helped keep potential nocturnal predators at bay, it would undoubtedly only attract sentient, intelligent life forms.

Just as she was pondering whether a particularly evolved species of apes might have developed the ability to build crude instruments, the bushes to the right of her parted, and two silhouettes detached from the opaque shadows beyond the glare of the fire.

Elya did not scream; she merely sucked in a sharp breath and shrank back against Bilbo.

As they drew nearer, the formless, hulking shades consolidated into humanoid forms, and her rational mind took over while her heart raced frantically.

The two strangers were seemingly male if their luscious beards were any indication, and—although shorter than most men she’d ever met—they were stocky and densely muscled.

One, the leader by his deportment and stern expression, strode forward and nudged their empty bowls with the toe of an expertly crafted boot.

He grunted something at the other in a language Elya didn’t understand. A quick glance at Bilbo reassured her that this was not due to a lapsus in her academic training but rather to the fact that probably nobody had ever heard it before.

The man pointed at himself slowly. “Fíli,” he declared and then pointed at his companion with a crooked grin that suggested intimacy and deep affection. “Kíli.”

“I dare say, those are their names,” Bilbo whispered and imitated the ponderous gesture by introducing himself and his assistant to the unlooked-for inhabitants of the island.

“The music hasn’t stopped,” Elya whispered back. “There must be more.”

In her mind, horror visions of thousands of faceless strangers, armed to the teeth and battle-ready, arose and abated again—the two that had come forward were visibly wary of them, but they’d not displayed any aggression or otherwise menacing behaviour.

Meanwhile, the seemingly called Kíli had actually crept closer and was presently sniffing the bowls distrustfully. The sound of disgust he uttered didn’t need a translation, and Elya felt herself bristle.

“Listen here, Mister Kíli,” she exclaimed, snapping like a rubber band that had been pulled too far. “We do neither know nor trust the plants in this forest; we have to make do with what we’ve brought from home.”

Home, she thought longingly, wondering if she’d ever see it again.

The way he frowned at her made it exceedingly clear that he didn’t understand a single word of what she’d said.

Extending one hand, palm outward towards them, he signalled that they should wait, though what they were waiting for was not instantly understandable by his curt gesture.

Another short exchange with the first man ensued, and then he disappeared back into the dense foliage without a sound.

“Do not make any rash movements,” Bilbo warned her, his voice tense and his eyes bright. “He seems to be armed.”

“He doesn’t strike me as very belligerent or hostile, though,” she retorted in the same hushed tone, keeping a strenuous grip on her flourishing imagination of wild men and dark secrets.

Despite being profoundly terrified by the humanoid non-dinner guests, and rightly so, she could also not deny that a part of her was elated to, at last, have discovered something worth writing home about.

Discreet rustling and a yelp of pain alerted the researchers to the approach of newcomers, and they both looked up in spellbound anticipation.

“Hello,” a soft voice resounded from beyond the barrier of light. “I’m Ori.”

The words came slowly and carefully as if the speaker was merely trying to emulate sounds he’d heard once or twice before.

He was almost at once interrupted by loud whispering, and then he gave a long, exasperated sigh.

“Kíli asks why you eat brackish water. Do you not hunt?”

“Hunt?” Elya scoffed. She was a woman of many talents, but catching, killing, and dressing wild animals were certainly not among them.

“Are you…hungry? Come!”

When neither Bilbo nor Elya moved, the hitherto unseen speaker of their own language stepped closer.

Elya’s mouth went dry. The two first specimens of this yet-foreign race had been handsome even by her era’s and society’s standards, with their chiselled features and sparkling eyes, but this creature was positively breathtakingly beautiful.

“Come!” he repeated and, when they didn’t move, promptly started to pack their things.

@fellowshipofthefics Here's one for the last week :D

-> Masterlist