#but I did get flipped in the one(1) seconds I put down my paddle to unbuckle my dry bag for a snack 🫠

[blujayonthewing]

[discussing flipping my kayak and falling in a river]

brother: at least with the paint palettes, like, it's water soluble, it'll rinse out but you can just refill it, but with a sketchbook the whole thing's ruined

me, currently has easily fifty dollars' worth of professional grade paint in my palettes:

[summerbirdie]

Jeremiah Fanfic:

Part 2

Notes: btw Addie is 16 and i only have plot for 1 or 2 more chapters so if u want give me some ideas or headcannons

Warnings: drug use, flirting ig, not edited very well

As we pulled into the driveway of the summer house I saw Susannah impatiently waiting. The second I stepped out of Jere’s Jeep I was met by her warm embrace. “Hi, honey. Look at you. Somehow you’ve gotten even more beautiful!” she said as she pulled out of the hug. “Well I don’t know about that.” I quietly replied. I was struggling keeping my eye contact with Susannah and I guess Jere noticed. “OK, I’ll go get your stuff and bring it upstairs, come on!” As we both walked towards the house I gave Jere a thanking look for saving me.

Before my mom died Belly and I shared a room but after that I decided I wanted to stay in her room. I felt closer to her that way. I felt more connected with her. I just… could feel her presence in that room.

Jere was following close behind me with my bags as I entered into my moms( well I guess my) room. As Jere put down everything, he turned to me with a smirk on his face “OK, so you have exactly 10 minutes to get ready because we are going straight to the beach. I’ve been DYING to surf all day but I was waiting for you… Dee, stop staring at me and start unpacking!”. “What will you give me if I do?” I asked jokingly with a cocky smile on my face. Jere stepped closer to me making me have to look up in order to keep eye contact. “You’ll just have to wait and see.” Suddenly it was getting harder to breathe and i had A LOT of butterflies in my stomach so I tied to laugh it off. “ Woah there, big guy I was just joking.” He didn’t say anything but continued to keep eye contact. I got very intimidated. “K, J get out I have to chaaaange.” He finally spoke”K, I’ll meet you downstairs”. When I was sure that Jeremiah couldn’t hear me I face slammed onto the bed. Why did I find that attractive. No, no… since when did I find JERE attractive. He had been one of my best friends for years but I had never though of him that way. I tried to put the thoughts in the back of my head as I quickly put on my bikini and headed downstairs.

J was waiting for me with two surfboards. “So how are the waves today?” I asked trying to break the ice. “Well Con went this morning and said that they were perfect. “Where is he anyway?”. “I think he’s at this girl Nicole’s place. He’s coming home soon so he’ll probably join.”. “Great!” I finished as we were heading to the beach.

After about an hour of sick waves me and Jere were just laying on the boards deep into the ocean. “Soooo, any hot hook-ups so far this summer, Jere?”. “Nope.” he said, popping the “p”. So he was single… not that I had though about it… that much. “So what are we doing tonight?” I asked flipping over on my board and getting a better view of Jeremiah and his might I say fantastic abs. No, why was I thinking about that? “Well, there’s a party at this guy Chris’s house, wanna go?”. “ It’s like you don’t know me at all!” I answered acting offended. Jere didn’t answer for a while, he just kept staring at me. “Ok, so I’m not waiting for Con anymore, let’s head back.”. “ I fumbled a quick “ok” and started paddling back to shore.

As we walked into the kitchen, Conrad was sitting on the counter eating something “Oh, hey Dee Dee, what’s up?”. “Hey, nothing much” I said going in for a hug which he warmly gave me. As I turned around facing Jere, I put my elbow on Con’s shoulder. “Nothin’ much, just hangin’ around my FAVOURITE Fisher, who BAILED on us!” I said smiling to Jere. “Yeah, sorry I got caught up with Nicole.”. After an awkward moment of silence I continued talking. “Ok boys, I know that you can’t possibly live without me but I wanna go unpack and have a nap before dinner.”. “Well, mom’s going out with some girlfriend tonight so…” Connie said. “Oh well, no problem we’ll just eat at the PaRtEyyyy then.”. I suggested. “Ok, ‘till later.”

I was really tired after the surfing and the unpacking so I had been laying in bed staring at my phone for about an hour and my head started hurting. I closed my eyes for a bit and the next thing I know I’m waking up 2 hours later, feeling sleepy but ready to go out. I walked over to my mom’s dresser and picked out a black tank top and some blue denim shorts. After that I put on some mascara, blush and a bit of tinted lip balm so I didn’t look dead. I walked over to the big mirror and checked out how I looked.

As I was walking down the stairs I checked my phone and it was already 9:30. I walked out to the back patio and so Conrad sitting by the pool smoking weed. I silently went over to him and sat by him. “Can I have some?”. He looked at me like I was joking so I continued “Come on, man. It’s not like my mom’s gonna find out.” I said trying to lighten the mood. “Nope, too early?… ok… But come on, just a puff?”. “Fine, but if my mom finds out I’m blaming you!” He said while giving me the roll. “So, you broke up with Aubrey, huh? You ok?”. “Yeah I’m great. How about you? Are we getting any action?” Conrad smirked and nudged my shoulder. “Oh yeahhhh, and I’m betting you wanna hear all the details.”. “Oh no, I fell right into that one.” He said holding the roll again and looking into the pool. We continued talking and laughing for about half an hour and I was very happy that he didn’t bring up my mom. By the time Jere was ready we had already smoked half of the roll but it hadn’t hit me yet. “Y’all ready?” Jere asked. I went over to him quickly and wrapped my arm around his shoulder. “Oh honey , we were ready way before you.” I said with a smirk as we walked towards his Jeep. “Oh really, what if I do this?” Jere started messing with my hair as I was trying to defend myself. As we approached the car I turned around to make sure Con was behind us, I quickly said “I call shotgun!”.

[huihuiheart]

Sex God - Hyunjin pt. 2

Pairing: God! Hyunjin x Sub!Female Reader

Genre: Smut with some fluff and angst.

Summary: You made Hyunjin jealous and now you’d have to face the repercussions. Something you may have thought about a little more ahead of time, considering he had a few tricks up is sleeves. - Part 1 Here

Warnings: Jealous sex, unprotected sex, punishment, dom/sub themes, some bdsm themes, bondage, claiming, marking, biting, dirty talk, degradation, power play, corruption kink (hinted at), sensory play (kind of), oral ( m receiving), exhibition (slight), brat taming, spanking, orgasm control/denial, master kink, sex toys, vibrators, paddles, hair pulling, spit, cumshot, cum eating, squirting, praise, mirror sex.

Word Count: 4,070

“I would have thought that by now you’d know better than to test me, little girl. After all, it’d be a shame for you not to cum tonight, especially when that’s what I do so well.” Hyunjin’s threat is something you know he’d follow through with based on your experience, but that doesn’t mean you’re through with testing him just yet. No, if he was going to give you attention now, then you were going to make sure and get as much of it as you possibly could.

“Well, maybe I’ll go back to Felix then. I’m sure he would make it happen if you don’t want to.” You quip with a smirk that Hyunjin instantly wiped away with a smack to your inner thigh. Your clothes were off in a flash.

“Oh, little girl, when I’m through with you, you won’t be going anywhere.”

Hyunjin’s gaze was sharp, holding you captive as you tried to decipher all the meanings behind it. Giving any clue as to what punishments you might have earned yourself with your behavior, yet he gave nothing away. You know that even if he’s already decided on what to do with you that he’ll still stay silent for a few moments, letting your anticipation build. It gives him an edge and he knows it from the occasions when the silence has been enough alone to make you crack.

He takes a few steps before stopping right in front of you and pulling his sleeves up, before twirling his fingers, twirling silky ribbons of gold into existence. His eyes rake over your form possessively before licking his lips in a dark hunger, practically able to taste you on his tongue from the sheer memory of it. He won’t be getting to that quite yet though, not until he’s already chipped away at your inner brat a bit.

“Strip.” You blink at his sudden demand, making no move to do as he says quite yet, too stunned at the suddenness of it. His free hand grips your jaw, making you look him in the eyes as he clicks his tongue in disapproval, “You had your fun little brat, but now I’m in charge and unless you’d like to ask for worse I suggest you do as I tell you when I tell you. Now strip.”

“Y-Yes master.” You’re quick to correct, hands shaking as you bring them to the hem of your shirt. You make no sign of disobeying, however, knowing you’ve already infuriated Hyunjin enough to give you more than sufficient punishment for one evening. Perhaps, even to go farther than he was with you before. 

Hyunjin hums in approval, twirling his finger to motion for you to spin for him, wanting to see all of your form, “Good girl, finally listening to me. On the bed now. I want you on your knees, arms behind your back.” 

You know Hyunjin will be watching you intently ready to pick up on any little slip up that you might make, so you’re careful to do exactly as he’s told. Keeping your eyes down until he permits you to look at him. Hyunjin sets down the glittering ropes on the edge of the bed, barely in your line of sight, wanting to know if they’d catch your attention enough to make you break your suddenly compliant nature. When you continue to display submission he finally moves forwards, fingertips dancing along your thighs as he leans down to look up at your face. He minds himself smirking when you divert your gaze again.

“It seems like you can remember my rules...well when you want to.” Hyunjin chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest as he leans back to grasp the silky ropes again, “You can look at me. I want you to tell me exactly what you did to earn everything I’m going to do to ruin your body tonight little girl.”

You slowly meet his gaze, gulping as you find the storm brewing in them, “I-I broke some of master’s rules. I was with another man a-and when master came to get me I back talked him. I-I was a brat and deliberately disobeyed him.”

“So you understand what I have to do to you then, don’t you little brat?” Hyunjin started to lay out the rope, preparing for what he was going to do next, licking his lips as your eyes twitched. Your sight was almost drawn to the motion of his actions but instead keeping on his eyes like he’d expected.

“I-I do. Master has to punish me, r-remind me of his rules. I promise I’ll take it, master, s-show you that I can be good for you.” Your voice wavers for a moment and Hyunjin picks up on it, pausing his actions. He leans forward, brushing your hair back behind your ear and kissing your temple in a gentle act.

“I know you will little girl, you always do. You remember our safe word?” Hyunjin’s tone has lightened up, showing you that while he’s worked up he cares so deeply for you. Your well-being is always his foremost concern and you know that nodding and quietly voicing the word. Hyunjin hums, placing one last kiss before leaning back and returning to his previous actions, “Face the other way.”

When you listen, keeping your hands behind your back Hyunjin gets exactly what he wants. You are in a perfect position for him to box tie your hands, something you’re familiar with in the bedroom with him. Hyunjin liked the way it allowed him to move you as he pleased, and the way it kept your hands out of his way, so he wouldn’t have to worry as much about accidents. He checks around his ties after he finishes to ensure that they aren’t too tight to bring you harm, before turning you around again. He then sets to work frog tying your legs, something much less common as he liked to watch the way they would shake as he made you feel good. Tonight though, he wanted to remind you who was in charge, who had the control here, so he decided to limit you more than usual in what you could do. Once finished he checked those ties as well, before stepping back to appreciate how good you looked with the delicate gold color shimmering against your skin.

After appreciating his handiwork for a moment, Hyunjin starts to back away leaving you there with widening eyes. He stops by the door, but never leaves, instead hitting the light switch and plunging the room into darkness. The only source of light being the ropes Hyunjin had created and tied you up with, giving a faint golden glow around them, but not enough to allow you to really see anything. It gives Hyunjin another advantage, the element of surprise. Something you know he would use to put you on edge, not knowing what punishments you’ll be given before they’re delivered. 

You feel the bed dip with Hyunjin’s weight before the glow illuminates his face just slightly, it makes him appear even more ethereal than usual. It’s not a sight you get to enjoy long, however, before he grips your hips and flips you over onto your knees. He pushes your shoulder until you fall forward, cheek pressed against the mattress, while your ass is up and exposed. Your legs spread and unable to squirm even a little, leaving you positioned entirely at Hyunjin’s mercy.

His hand cracks down on the swell of your ass without warning drawing a whimper out of you before you feel his weight leave again. The only thing you have to go by is the occasional shuffling sounds as he moves to get what he wanted. You nearly jump when he tosses a few things onto the bed behind you, making him chuckle again as he notices you shift slightly before his stern side is showing through again.

“Careful little brat, you have nowhere to run now. Not that you’d want to anyway considering no one could treat you as good as I do anyway, hm?” Hyunjin questions you, his voice slowly drawing closer before his hand comes down on your ass again.

“N-No master, only you can treat me this good. O-Only you can teach me how to be a good little whore.” You whine, doing your best to stay still, but every little action that set your senses on fire was only increased by your lack of sight. 

“I want you to count them out for me, tell me just what your slutty behavior earlier earned you. If you mess up we won’t start over, I’ll just add five more for any mistakes you make from this point forward. Do you understand?” The second between his words and your breath to speak, you feel the leather from one of Hyunjin’s favorite paddles brushing over your ass. Giving you a hint of what you were in for, even if you still weren’t sure when you’ll be earning his mercy.

“Yes master, I understand.” You whimper out so softly, you’re not sure Hyunjin hears you, but lucky for you he does. 

He gives you a moment to prepare yourself, knowing he was going to put you through a lot, before delivering the first series of swift blows. Only five in and your voice starts to tremble, letting him know your body was on edge. By ten hits your slick is dripping down your plush thighs, core throbbing as it begs for attention that it won’t receive for some time still. After fifteen hits he gives you a moment to recover, knowing you had your voice was starting to be strained from crying out to him already. When he reaches twenty hits you’re starting to cry, tears painting your face and dazzling like little gems as the golden glow from the ropes hits them. Twenty-five hits and you’re getting a few soft whispered assurances from Hyunjin, him knowing you’re close to your limit. He gives you only five more, ignoring the wavering in your tone as you almost can’t call out the number, but trying so hard to behave for him, and right now that notion is enough. The last blow from the paddle is the hardest, but it lets you know he’s done.

Hyunjin’s hands rub over your ass, stinging slightly before helping soothe the burn left behind on your bruised flesh. He leans down to leave a few kisses, the action making you mewl and he chuckles before biting down on the tender skin. 

“Such a good little girl taking that. I don’t think you’ll forget who you belong to anytime soon with how sore your ass is going to be.” Hyunjin laughs under his breath before his touch leaves your skin. Leaving you in the dark again as to what he would do to you next, only hearing some shuffling again. 

Hyunjin’s hand strokes over your hair, caressing softly, before suddenly gripping it, sending pin pricks over your scalp in burning waves. He looks down at you smirking softly as his cock sits right out of reach of your mouth. The light from the ropes barely illuminates Hyunjin, but doing enough to let you make out the way his muscles tense while he grips your hair and holds himself back. Or the way his dark eyes bore into you, gold flickering through in beautiful sparkles from the glow, while his golden hair falls in front of his face, threatening to ruin your view.

“Look at how desperate you are, after acting like it was the last thing you wanted earlier. Trying to act all innocent like you weren’t trying to make all jealous. Like you aren’t just a little whore for me. What have I actually done to you, hm? You used to be a sweet little angel, now you’re a slut drooling from both ends for my cock.” Hyunjin taunts free hand gripping your jaw, his thumb rubbing over your lip, spreading the drool that had been threatening to spill out, “If you want it that bad, then I guess you can have it. You better make it good though, I still don’t think you’ve earned the chance to cum tonight, yet.”

Just because you were going to get a taste of him though, did not mean you had any control in the slightest. Hyunjin’s grip on your hair is still firm as he guides you close enough, letting you take your time as you take his length into your mouth, allowing you some time to appreciate it before he took over again. His eyes meet yours as they remain on him, unwavering and eager to please as you slowly take his length down your throat, trying to get used to the feeling again. Only getting a moment, before Hyunjin’s grip solidifies again, locking you in place as his hips start rutting into your mouth.

“L-Look at you sucking dick so skillfully, j-just like how I taught you. S-Such a filthy fucking slut for me.” Hyunjin groans, eyes scrunching closed for a moment when you earnestly swallow around him, hollowing your cheeks to only further add to his pleasure. You can still watch every facial expression he makes with his head hanging in soft moans, his pace picking up and making you gag around him the sounds only adding to the lewd scene as he forces his eyes open to enjoy every aspect of what is happening at this moment.

You take pride in knowing Hyunjin almost as well as he knows you, the triggers it takes for him to fall apart too. Which is how you know he’s right on the edge, something you’re hoping to throw him over before he denies you the satisfaction of his taste. Something else he often does whenever you’re being punished, though it wouldn’t be the first time you’d convinced him wordlessly to cum down your throat. Today, however, his resolve is firm, determined not to give into you until he’s satisfied you’ve learned that Felix is not the one who can do this to you. 

Hyunjin revels in the way that your whine, lips still parted as you try to resist his grip on your hair to wrap your mouth around his cock again. He’s having none of it though as he strokes himself to completion. Letting his cum paint your face and neck in the prettiest patterns. You wear him like a badge of honor, like a collar of the most beautiful sparkling gems and he thinks he might just have to gift you something of the sort as a reminder.

“I won’t give it to you that easy...not today.” Hyunjin chuckles, situating you to sit up on your knees once again. Him tapping your inner knee until you get the hint and spread your legs, humming in approval at the slick smeared along your inner thighs and what was on display between them. The color of the golden glow hitting your skin and dancing off your slick only makes you more appealing, “This color looks good on you little girl.”

His slight praise has you keening begging for his touch once more without even using words, only inflating his ego more. He knew exactly what he did to you and thrived off that power. When he leans in you think he’s going to kiss you, but he doesn’t, instead, his tongue laves over your cheek, collecting up some of his cum.

He hums as he pulls back to look into your eyes, his hand reaching back to grab something, “I love when you taste like me little one, just another reminder that you’re all mine.” 

Hyunjin gives you no clue as to what was in his hand as he kisses and nips harshly over your neck until he finds the spot he wants, biting down harder before licking to soothe the pain. Leaving kisses and soft sucks to the tender flesh to make up for it, but not letting up until he’s satisfied with the blossoming mark that’s left behind. Something he never mentions, however, knowing what he had in mind for later.

His surprise finally revealed when a soft buzz filled the air, Hyunjin bringing the wand to your thighs and teasing the vibrator over that, “We’re going to test you out little brat, see if you’ve actually learned to listen or not. You don’t get to cum until I say you do.” 

He doesn’t word it as a question he expects an answer to, or give you time to retort before the vibrator is turned all the way up and pressed against your clit. Instead, it’s a firm demand, an order that you know there will be dire consequences for if you can not listen to him. Yet, you also know Hyunjin is aware of how easily the wand in his hand makes you fall apart, especially when you’re this desperate. Your determination building at this point, determination to please him, and not earn yourself another punishment. 

Hyunjin grips your jaw, making you look at him as you moan, wanting to soak in even the tiniest flickers of reaction on your face. You’d learned early on that there was no way to hide from him when you were about to cum, so there was no use in trying. There was always a use for begging Hyunjin though, it was just a matter of how much begging it would take...and you had a feeling tonight it would take a lot. You weren’t aware of just how much begging though, until after four ruined orgasms, Hyunjin still pressed the vibrator against your clit without let up. Tears glistening as they streamed down your face.

“M-Master, please! I-I need to cum for you. I need it so badly, p-please let me. I-I’ve done my best to be good for you and show that I can listen and do whatever you ask, j-just please.” Your words come out in near sobs, as you gasp for breath feeling right on the edge once again.

“You can cum little girl when I tell you that you can. You better hold it.” Hyunjin growls nipping at your throat as he watches you closely, waiting until he knows you really can’t hold your orgasm back any longer before finally giving you some relief, “Cum. Now.”

You scream out as you cum, the sound a mix of relief and overwhelming amounts of pleasure. Your orgasm overpowering after the build-up since you both entered this room, it enough to make you squirt, something only Hyunjin was capable of making you do. Hyunjin slowly turned down the vibrator as you rode out your high, before taking it away when it started to change to painful overstimulation, feeling as if he’d tormented you enough at this point. 

“Shh, just breath little one.” Hyunjin coos, gently brushing your tears away and helping guide your breaths to get you to calm down a little bit, “There’s my good girl. You did so good taking everything I gave to you little girl, but I’m not quite done with you yet.”

Hyunjin moves you as he pleases, bending you over again only making sure you keep your head up and facing a mirror across the room. The item not even having crossed your mind, but looking into it now with the only thing illuminated in the pitch-black room the two of you that was all you could pay attention to. It only adds to the feeling as Hyunjin slowly presses his length into you, moaning quietly at the feeling of your cunt tightening around him. His sounds, however quiet, are not something that you let just slip past you, especially not when they sounded like the most beautiful melodies mixed with your sounds. 

If you had asked Hyunjin why he was going so slowly, you’re sure he’d make up some excuse about finally showing you mercy or letting you have a moment to adjust. You knew the reality though, he needed the moment to collect himself...he always did, you were just too perfect to him. The way your warm, wet walls pulsed around him making him weak to his knees, even if he didn’t admit that to you.

As soon as he regained his composure, however, it was like a switch flipped. Hyunjin wastes no time in picking a fast, rough pace to thrust into you, reminding you once again how sore your ass was after his earlier actions. Hyunjin’s movements do not stutter for a second once he sets his pace, a hand immediately slipping between your legs to rub at your clit, determined to get as many orgasms out of you as he could before his own. 

“Who do you moan like this for? Tell me, little girl, is it Felix?” Hyunjin growls, hand gripping your bound arms to pull you back against his chest so you could see in more detail exactly how he fucked you. The way his cock slipped in and out of you, coated in your slick, and the way his skilled fingers rubbed and pinched at your clit so perfectly. 

“N-No master. I-I may be a slut, but it’s only for you. I-I will only ever moan like this for you.” You immediately answer him how you know he wants you to, feeling yourself drawing close to the edge again and not wanting to risk it being denied. Hyunjin notices with a hum and pinches your clit just right to throw you over the blissful edge, keeping you upright as your thighs tremble, before gently letting you lay your chest down onto the bed again. 

“T-That’s right little girl, you’re my filthy fucking slut. Y-You’ll be good and give me one more won’t you?” Hyunjin words it as a question, but you know that he’s not really asking. His own end is drawing closer, yet he won’t let himself give in to the feeling until he’s rewarded you for taking all that you did earlier. When you nod softly, your head is still foggy from your last high, trying to come down from it. Hyunjin gives a sound of approval in his throat as he leans down to kiss your temple. 

When he feels your pussy clenching around him again, nearing your last orgasm...for now...he almost loses it. Only barely holding himself back his fingers speed up on your clit until you snap again, withering beneath him. Hyunjin finally doesn’t hold back his sounds as he cums deep inside of you, painting you white until it starts to leak out of your spent core.

Hyunjin gently with you as he undoes the ties on you. He could make them disappear just as fast as he made them appear, but they looked so beautiful on your skin that he can’t find it in himself to do that... not for a long time at least. His hands massaged your sore muscles for a few moments before helping you up and to the shower, to let the heat help them further. Willing to let you clean up knowing he left more than a few reminders that wouldn’t simply rinse away in the shower. He treats you delicately as always with aftercare. 

A lightbulb seems to go off over his head as he dries you though, making you furrow your brows, “What is it?”

“Ah, I just forgot something when we rushed back, come on let's go get it. It’ll just take a moment.” Hyunjin takes your hand in his and in the blink of an eye, you’re both back where he’d found you with Felix, not giving you any chance to argue.

Hyunjin intentionally leads you past where he knows Felix will be, making you walk without any help from him knowing that if the obvious marks his mouth left on your neck didn’t give away what had happened between you two, then your walk would. Something that always made him proud after he fucked you. Hyunjin smirks at Felix while they pass before smiling sweetly at you and saying he’ll be a second, leaving you standing there. He’s barely longer than that before he’s back having made up what he needed anyways just to show off to Felix who you belonged to. He comes back and soon takes you home, looking at you innocently while you raise a brow and cross your arms at him.

“So?.... You forgot a spoon?”

[flamminghotweedos]

could you please do prompts 74 & 75 with JJ from outer banks?! I LOVED your last one, you're such a talented writer ugh

A/N: thANK YOU that made me go WHEE :) I hope you liked this one!

Also! I thin I’m gonna start doing outer banks preferences so let me know if/what you’d like to see!

Word Count: 1599

Requested: yes. #74 “are you listening to me?” And #75 “no I was too busy watching you undress in my head,” (two of my faves)

Pairing: JJ x reader

Warnings: the usual swearing, and some flirty JJ x reader goin on

~Wipe Out~

(Set in Season 1 Episode 3) (btw I listened to Evan Finds The Third Room by Khruangbin from this episode ON LOOP and holy shit it adds so much I recommend it)

“I’m so proud of you right now, holy crap,” JJ said to the soaking wet Pope who got back on the boat. Pope has just taken the plug from Topper’s expensive boat, and his face fell serious.

“JJ?” He started,

“Yeah?”

“You can’t tell anybody,”

“Oh yeah no. Totally dude,”

“No. I’m serious, dude. Not Kie, not John B, especially not Y/N. Nobody,” JJ put his hands in up in defense, knowing you, his girlfriend, would kill both of them if you found out.

“Yup. My lips are sealed. Give me that,” JJ took the plug from Pope’s band and threw it over board.

Miles over on the beach, you sat in the sand with your surf board, rubbing on it trying to get some of the build up off of it. You looked up and at the sun setting over the water, John B. and Kiara conversing as they floated on their boards. You smiled and heard JJ’s familiar voice from behind you.

“Board works better if you get in the water, babe,” You stood up and turned around, giving both Pope and JJ that look you had. The, you guys spent way to long to have been working, plus word got out of some Pogues on the golf course today...you two did something, kind of look. It worked every time. JJ was the hardest, blondie had the thickest skull. But Pope? Man, Pope was blurting the truth out to you in seconds. Even spoiled three of your surprise parties the other Pogues had tried to throw you.

“Don’t submit, dude,” JJ grabbed Pope’s arm with his free hand.

“I took the plug out of Topper’s boat today-“

“What?!” You yelled, making the two boys shush you and take a step forward.

“Him and Rafe teamed up on him today when he was out delivering,” JJ argued for Pope and he nodded, moving his hat slightly to show you the scar.

“Oh my god, Pope why didn’t you tell me?” You grabbed the side of his neck and examined the gash. “Did you clean it? Are you hurt anywhere else? Did-“

“Y/N, chill. I’m alright,” Pope smiled and adjusted the board in his hand and ran towards the water.

“Hey! Save some waves for us!” JJ yelled and Kiara responded, but your hand on JJ’s bare chest stopped him.

“JJ,” you have him a warning look. The sudden authority you had in your voice sent a unexpected chill down his spine. “You realize how much Pope could lose if he get caught?”

“He’s not gonna get caught, baby,”

“JJ, you don’t know that,” and unexpected rant started from you, but JJ couldn’t pay attention. You just looked so fucking good in the sunlight right now. The way your hair feel naturally from the sea water, the way your bathing suit complemented every curve of your body. Not to mention, JJ’s eyes couldn’t help but wonder from yours, to your lips, to your breasts and down. An endless loop of him remembering what’s underneath the bathing suit. If he had the skill, he could probably draw every inch of you from memory with how many times he’s stared at you.

“Not to offend you JJ, but I don’t think you’d be the college type. You’ve told me yourself. Pope? Pope has a scholarship he’s gotta chase after. Baby, you gotta promise me you’ll watch after him if anything does happen. And if anything happens to him tell me. My dad’s got enough Kook cash that we could bail him or you out, okay?” You noticed the way his lip was stuck between his teeth. He only ever did that if he was focusing really hard on something. “JJ? Are you listening to me?” You asked and stepped forward, now only a few inches from you boyfriend.

“Huh?” His eyes finally met yours again, “no. No I was too busy watching you undress in my head,” you were taken back by his honesty. You blinked and few times and shook your head, leaning in for a kiss, your free hand cupping his cheek, patting it when he tried to deepen the kiss.

“Maybe later,” you pulled back and winked. You turned and walked off towards the water, feeling two familiar eyes stay on you. You weren’t worried about if JJ listened to that rant specifically. You knew he’d do the right thing in that situation.

“Hang on! Maybe?!” He called back and ran after you. You quickly straddled your board and started to paddle towards your other friends.

“If you wipe out less than five times, I guarantee you I’ll undress for you tonight,” you said once he caught up to you. He smirked and held his hand out, to close the deal. You took his hand and shook it, but as quickly pulled towards him, water splashing on both of you as he pressed him lips on yours. The salty sea water now on the taste on your tongue.

“Come on now! Remember the new rule!” John B. yelled as the other three paddled toward you two, pulling away from each other, you smiled to your friends. “If pogues are gonna Mack pogues, you either gotta not do it in front of the others or warn us,” you quickly took your hand, splashing water towards John B.

“Consider that your warning,” you all laughed, and Kie nodded and gestured for you all to start surfing.

And you kept count of JJ. The first wave he simply stood up and road out. Then the second wave, he did noting but stand up. You caught on to his tricks.

“Come on Jay! Not confident in your own skill?!” You yelled over as you road out a wave of your own, watching him smile and shake his head before paddling further out. The next wave, he did a few of his spins and turns. Next wave was bigger than he expected, catching him off guard and slipping into the water. The same on the next, yet he fell off when he tried to top the wave.

“That’s two, JJ!” You yelled and straddled your board. Kie floated over towards you, laughing.

“I’m afraid to ask,” you looked over at her, nothing the moon had started to come up.

“He wouldn’t pay attention when I was talking to him earlier,” you sighed as he skillfully spun and road the next wave out, sticking his tongue out at you as he passed. “So we made a bet, if he didn’t wipe out more than five times...I’d-“

“Got cha,” Kiara nodded with a giggle and watched Pope. surf through the tube.

“Ladies,” John B. said and floated over, you three catching some air. “What are we doin?” He asked as JJ raced Pope to a wave.

“Trying to get JJ to wipe out,” Kie said as you all kept their eyes on the two boys.

“Do I wanna know?”

“Just a bet we have,” you smirked and John B. nodded.

“How many times has he wiped out?” Just ask he asked, JJ got cocky, going for his normal rodeo turn at the peak, but his board got caught and flipped from underneath him.

“That’s five now, JJ! You sure you wanna try again?!” you yelled, teasing your boyfriend and he straddled his board and put his hands on his hips.

“JJ! Get some air on this one!” John B. yelled back. JJ looked at you, hopelessly tired, but his hard headedness made him turn his board and paddle out further. He started to effortlessly ride the wave out, it growing as it neared the shore. JJ gained some speed and looked for a water ramp. Once he found it, he maneuvered his board up the wave. The four of you, Pope floating towards you more, all yelled as JJ caught the air he was going for, but the cheers made him cocky. Turning his body to try and spin his board a little in air, he missed the flat of the wave, slipping from the board and flopping on the whitewater.

“Ooh,” you all winced, laughing slightly.

“I’ll go check on him, head to shore we’ll catch up,” you giggle as the other three started to paddle away, you laid on your stomach and paddle towards JJ. He was now laying on his back on his board, taking deep breaths.

“Don’t say a word,” he warned once you floated over. You grabbed on to his board in order to stay together in the moon lit water.

“That was actually pretty impressive,” he let out and laugh and he sat up on his board, smirking over to you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah...but you lost so...I won’t be undressing for you tonight,” you shrugged, all ready with an idea in your head. JJ could tell, and played along.

“So you won...what’s your prize?” He asked as you two began to size up the next wave to ride to shore.

“You have to undress me tonight,” with that you shot a wink and paddled before standing up on your board and riding the wave to shore.

[hale-13]

Ultraviolet

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 7 - Sunburn

The best part about having free run of Tony Stark’s penthouse in the Tower is the Olympic sized pool that overlooks all of Manhattan. Peter could happily spend the whole summer here.

Words: 2503, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner

TW: Teenage Dumbassery

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

“Why are you wearing the Armani?” Peter asked, pushing the pair of battered bodega sunglasses he had been using for the past two years up to sit in his chlorine damp hair and squinting as his eyes adjusted to the dimmed lights of the penthouse. FRIDAY closed the automatic door to the balcony and pool behind him.

“First of all this is Tom Ford how dare you,” Tony said, pointing at him with the ‘dad finger’ but not looking up from his rapid texting. “Second of all I’m wearing the Tom Ford, not Armani you absolute heathen, because I have to step into a couple of meetings this afternoon.”

Peter hummed in confusion, taking a bottle of cold Gatorade (the red one because it was clearly the best flavor) from the fridge and chugging it before sitting on one of the barstools. Tony flicked his eyes away from his phone to glare at the puddle dripping off Peter’s swim trunks pointedly – Peter just smirked at him and cracked open the second bottle he had pulled from the fridge, sipping on it slowly. “I thought you were playing hooky all week?” Peter teased, referencing the plan Tony had laid out earlier in the week to do absolutely nothing of value while Pepper was out of town.

“That was the plan,” Tony conceded, tucking his phone into his inner jacket pocket and then fussing with the immaculate pocket square. “Pepper was supposed to land thirty minutes ago but she had to divert her plane to our LA office for… something. Honestly I wasn’t paying attention.”

“And that leads to you going to meetings?” Peter asked with a raised brow.

“Apparently,” Tony groused, pulling the colorful beach towel from around Peter’s neck and dropping it to the floor to soak up the puddle forming under the barstool. “Sorry buddy – I know I promised a week of fun bullshit but I think we both would prefer that I keep my head attached to my body so…”

“It’s fine,” Peter brushed off and it really was. To be honest, he was still tired from their thirty hour workshop bonanza and he could do with a nap. It was a pleasant day for June in New York with a good breeze and some light cloud cover – a nap on one of the obscenely large pool floats sounded heavenly. “I was thinking about napping anyway.”

Tony’s brow furrowed for a second before his hand darted out to land on Peter’s forehead. Peter batted his hand away, narrowly avoiding falling off the stool. “You don’t feel warm. Are you sick? FRI is the kid sick?”

“All vitals within normal limits Boss,” FRIDAY answered, almost sounding amused.

“I’m not sick! Teenagers can enjoy naps you know.” Peter protested, dodging another of his mentor’s attempts to check him for a fever. “It’s pretty much our MO actually.”

Tony rolled his eyes before slipping his tinted AR sunglasses onto his face. “Oh to be young again,” he said sarcastically, gathering up a couple thin files and his StarkPad, tucking his phone into his inner jacket pocket. “You sure you’ll be okay for a few hours?”

“Yes, Tony, jeez.” Peter said with an exaggerated eye roll.

“Oh joy, teenage snark. Aren’t I lucky?” His mentor questioned as he ruffled Peter’s hair into disarray, flinging little water droplets on the counter top and causing the loose curls to tighten up more as they dried. “I’ll be back in time for dinner. Want to grill?”

“Sounds good,” Peter said with a smile, finishing off his second drink and tossing the bottle in the recycling and waving as Tony entered the elevator. Peter let out a large yawn and stretched, sighing happily as his back popped and realigned, before hopping of the stool to gather his towel off the floor and get a couple bottles of water from the fridge.

The sun was bright and warm as he stepped back out onto the pool deck and Peter luxuriated in its warmth, momentarily blinded – he hated the cold more than anything and loved being out in the heat. It took him a few minutes to pick his pool float, Tony had collected an obscene number of ridiculous ones over the past month, but he eventually decided on the watermelon one for its large round shape. He loaded it up with his water, towel and sunscreen before pushing it into the pool and following it with a splash.

He agilely climbed up to sit in the middle and took the bottle of sunscreen, spraying on another protective layer before wadding his towel into a lumpy pillow and face planting into it. “Hey FRI?”

“Yes Peter?” FRIDAY’s voice asked from the waterproof speakers situated around the pool.

“Can you play my lofi playlist?” He nearly slurred, already half asleep.

“No problem Peter,” she answered before the soft music poured from the speakers and Peter let out a sigh before fully relaxing. There was truly nothing better than a nice warm nap out in the sun. The gentle rocking of the water was quick to put him into some of the best sleep of his life.

————————————————

“Peter? Peter! Wake up kiddo!”

Peter groaned, his body stiff and tight and hot and he cracked open his crusty eyes to stare at the edge of the pool. “T’ny?” He croaked out, mouth impossibly dry and vision blurred.

“Yes, Jesus, you really cooked yourself buddy. Can you paddle over here?” Tony was looking at him with worried eyes, pulling his jacket off and slipping out of his Italian leather loafers.

“Come over there?” Peter questioned, confused. The sun had sunk behind the tower and the rooftop was now covered in shade and Peter shivered. Why was it so cold?

“Pete focus up now. I need you to come to me.” Tony said, his voice patient but with the clear undercurrent of concern that he used when Peter had gotten himself into some form of trouble.

“Okay,” Peter grunted. He tried to shift his heavy arms and then gasped in pain, clenching his eyes shut. “Ouchies,” he mumbled, not making any effort to move again. A splash sounded and Peter opened his eyes to see Tony in the water with him, efficiently swimming over to his ridiculous pool float. “But Tom Ford,” Peter protested dumbly.

“This was last seasons suit anyway,” Tony dismissed as he reached the edge of the float, treading water. “I’m gonna help you get into the water Petey – you’re way too hot. It’s not going to feel all that great but you need to trust me alright?”

“You’re Iron Man,” Peter agreed, groggy. “Trust you.”

“Good to know buddy,” Tony said as he carefully reached out and put his arms under Peter’s chest. Peter let out a gasp as his mentor’s wet sleeve rubbed against his sensitive arm but kept his body limp and let Tony maneuver him to the edge of the float while barely keeping it from tipping completely over on them both. “Alright kiddo, take a deep breath for me and hold it okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter grunted before pulling in a large gulp of air and squeezing his eyes shut. To his benefit, Tony was fast – he lifted Peter off the float and dumped him into the water before hooking his forearms under Peter’s armpits and pulling his head up above water again. Peter coughed as he surfaced, more awake and aware now, and really feeling just how truly fucked he was. His skin from the back of his neck down was tight and burning and he remained limp to not stress out the damaged skin any more. “That sucked.”

“Sure did,” Tony agreed, carefully paddling the both of them to the shallow end of the pool where a gentle incline would lead back up to the pool deck. “Think you can walk if I help you?”

“Maybe,” Peter answered, but did adjust himself in the water so he was floating next to Tony with his arm wrapped around the man’s shoulder and Tony’s arm wrapped around his waist just below the edge of his swim trunks to prevent him from touching the tender skin of his back. Exiting the pool was difficult since Peter realized he had definitely burned the bottoms of his feet but, with Tony’s help, he was able to limp out of the pool and towards the penthouse door.

“We’ve gotta get you in some oatmeal,” Tony told him as they entered the living room. The cool air from the AC made Peter shiver but the cool polished concrete floor felt like heaven on the soles of his feet.

“Why oatmeal?” Peter asked, letting Tony steer him down the hall and past his own bedroom towards the master bedroom and into Tony’s own ridiculously huge bathroom.

“It’s an anti-inflammatory,” Tony told him as they entered the bathroom. The large porcelain tub that could probably fit seven or eight full grown men was filling with tepid water mixed with oatmeal – clearly FRIDAY had been listening to their conversation and had acted accordingly. Well that or Peter had missed when Tony had asked her to set it up.

It took some maneuvering, but, soon, Peter was lying face down in the tub, his head pillowed on a pile of soft towels with Tony applying damp washcloths soaked in the cool water and oatmeal to the parts of his back that weren’t submerged in the water. Peter shivered violently once, his failing thermoregulating attempting and not succeeding in functioning, before he just lay, missable, in the tub.

“Close your eyes,” Tony said, wetting another washcloth in the sink with clean water only and wiping his face down. He frowned as his hand ran over Peter’s forehead and he draped the cloth over Peter’s face and eyes to cool the reddened skin. “You’ve got quite the fever brewing Webs.”

“I just wanted a nap,” Peter moaned and he heard Tony let out a little sad sounding chuckle.

“I know. Just relax and try to cool down for now,” and then he stood up and walked to the door. “I’m going to grab you some dry shorts and get the bed set up. Try not to drown.” It took more effort than Peter thought it would but flipping Tony off over the lip of the tub was totally worth it.

He fell into a light doze from there – drifting off as the stinging in his back dulled down to a more comfortable level. “Oh Peter,” Bruce said from above him and Peter jerked in the tub, dislodging the washcloth from his face and causing his body to let out a sting of pain and protest. He let out a little grunt and Dr. Banner winced from above him. “Sorry Pete. I thought you heard me come in. You really burnt yourself.”

“I know,” Peter said, wanting to be irritated but too tired to feel much of anything. Bruce gave him a sad smile.

“According to FRIDAY your temp is down enough we can get you out,” Bruce told him as Tony leaned over the tub as well so both of them were staring down at him. Peter just blinked. “Let Tony and I do most of the work – you don’t want to stress your muscles. Once we can get you out and dried off I’ll get you started on some fluids and electrolytes and that should help some. And my aloe plant donated a couple of leaves to the cause.” Dr. Banner joked. Peter gave him a weak smile in response, not really looking forward the the execution part of Bruce’s plan.

Getting lifted out of the tub was nothing short of agony even though Tony and Bruce lifted him under his armpits again and left him leaning his chest heavily against the bathroom counter to keep as much weight off his feet as possible. Bruce pointedly left the room and Peter endured a few mortifying moments where his mentor had to help him dry off and change into a loose pair of athletic shorts that sat low on his hips so as to not interfere with the burn. He was going to have an awful tan line by the end of this he thought sadly, taking in the lobster colored skin of his back and neck.

Bruce crept back in moments after and had Peter lean his hip against the sink so that he could place the IV catheter into his forearm while standing – making it easier on both of them once they would get him settled into bed. The California king sized bed had been stripped down to just its fitted sheet and, with a little assistance, Peter did a controlled flop face first into the memory foam pillows, letting his eyes shut as he felt Bruce connect the IV line and the cool rush of fluids through his veins.

He was nearly out when a cold plop on his back tore his eyes back open in surprise and he felt immediate relief from his tight, hot skin where the wet mass had landed. “Feels good,” he slurred drowsily as a careful hand massaged the goop into his back. A second set was working on his tight calf muscles, loosening them up and easing the burn.

“Fresh aloe,” Dr. Banner told him. Nothing better for a sunburn.”

Peter hummed in agreement and let himself drift off, finally comfortable.

—————————————-

“I just wanted a nap,” Peter whined as he limped and hobbled into the kitchen of the penthouse almost three days later, Tony following a few steps behind to catch him if he fell over and relying on the walls and his ability to stick to anything to keep him from falling. “I wore sunscreen!”

“Clearly not enough,” his mentor told him, voice tight with irritation. Peter had been saying the same thing on repeat since he woke up from his nap and it was clearly grating the man’s nerves. Peter opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water, cracking it open and taking large gulps. Even days later and after Bruce pumped him full of fluids Peter still felt parched and dehydrated. “You know you’re supposed to reapply like every hour in direct sunlight and water right?”

“Well I do now,” Peter answered, leaning against the stove so he could take the weight off his legs. His skin still felt so tight that it felt like it may burst. And the blisters… best not to think about it. Tony clocked the movement.

“Time for more aloe,” he said pointedly, shooing Peter off toward his bedroom. “I’ll get it out of the freezer and be right behind you.”

“Thanks Mr. Stark,” Peter said as he hobbled away. He passed by the door to the pool, the water sparkling brightly in the mid-afternoon sun and he looked at it thoughtfully. “Redo next week,” he promised to himself. He’d just have to get FRIDAY to wake him up every hour next time. Besides, he needed to even out his tan.

[iamkidfish]

For the promuts..leatin #1? 👉👈

Read on ao3!

It’s not as if she means to laugh, but Fatin has to admit, seeing Toni and Rachel catch Leah completely off her guard and push her into the waterfall, is pretty funny. They’re all laughing by the time Leah’s head pops out of the water, looking thoroughly disgruntled with her wet hair sticking against her skin. Half-heartedly, she tries splashing both of them, but the water falls short easily, and Toni and Rachel easily side step it. Then, Toni lunges at Rachel to push her in but Rachel’s already in the air, cannonballing entirely too close to where Leah is treading water.

Leah shrieks again and Fatin laughs mostly to distract herself from the (very much non-PG) thoughts that’ve been taking up space in her brain since the beginning of their day at the waterfall, since Leah stripped down to her shorts and bra without any regard for Fatin’s sex drive. Of course, she’s not complaining, but it would be easier if she could actually do something about it. 

(Anyway, she’s horny and the mere proximity of Leah’s shirtless existence is utterly destabilizing, something that hasn’t changed the forty-seven days they’ve been on the island, and Fatin’s a little disappointed in herself for being so goddamn consistent. But maybe it’s kind of thrilling at the same time.)

Toni screams and the sound of it pulls Fatin out of her thoughts. She looks up just as Martha (who apparently snuck up behind Toni) pushes Toni into the water, but not before the shorter girl is pleading and cursing and twisting in mid-air. She lands with a clear smack against the water that Fatin hears from across the water. That sounded like it hurt. 

Toni pops up, looking more indignant than Leah did, and Martha sticks her tongue out at her and now they’re all laughing, Toni included. Shelby swims over and says something Fatin can’t pick up over the rush of the water but Fatin can see Toni practically melt when Shelby looks at her. Maybe before the island Fatin would think it was gross (or maybe she understands because she’s a little in love with Leah herself), but she has to admit, love looks good on Shelby. Well, on both of them really. 

Shelby leans in and their lips are pressed together for less than ten seconds before Dot is yelling about “contamination” and “our only water source”. Toni flips off the general direction of where Dot’s voice is coming from since her eyes and lips are still on Shelby’s. Still, Fatin’s impressed: she’s pretty accurate, even with her eyes closed-maybe playing basketball was useful to her. 

It doesn’t last long though. Now that Toni’s in the water and in splashing distance, Fatin can see Leah trying to plot out her revenge for being pushed into the water. She makes eye contact with Dot and they start to circle around Shelby and Toni. After a silent countdown, Leah and Dot start splashing all at once and there’s laughing and yelling at the same time. Even after Toni pulls away from Shelby, Leah keeps shoving water at her face, powerful enough that  little waves ripple against Fatin’s shins that are resting in the water. 

Toni tries to dunk Leah, which maybe isn’t her smartest idea, and Fatin already knows the outcome of this. Sure enough, the water puts her at a disadvantage (maybe even more than when they’re both on land) and Leah’s head doesn’t even go under fully. Her bad decisions seem to hit her all at once and Fatin laughs at the look on Toni’s face before she starts to frantically swim away from Leah. 

It takes approximately three strokes from Leah to catch up to Toni and not even Shelby’s protests can save her from Leah pushing down hard on Toni’s shoulders, instantly submerging her under the water. 

By the time Toni comes up spluttering for air, Leah’s already closed the distance between the edge where Fatin is sitting and where they’re all in the water by halfway. As awful as this place is, Fatin can admit how amazingly clear the water is, how free of pollution it is. And if the water is clear enough to allow Fatin to notice the freckles dotted along Leah’s arms or the lace detailing on her bra (Fatin can’t remember if it’s actually Leah’s or hers that was added to their collective) without making her look like a total fucking creep then that’s no one else’s business but hers. 

Leah paddles over to where Fatin is sitting, a slightly strange expression on her face. For how fast her mind works, sometimes Fatin can’t tell what she’s thinking or feeling and it drives her up the wall. Recently, Leah’s been hesitantly okay, which, if Fatin’s being honest, is better than she expected, considering any type of rescue is out of the question, at least for now. 

“Considering you saw what just happened, I’m definitely gonna have to watch where I sleep for the foreseeable future right?”

“Oh, absolutely. Toni’s not gonna let this go for weeks,” Fatin looks down at Leah, treading in the water. 

“I mean, it’s not like she didn’t deserve it.” Leah says. “She basically pushed me into the water completely unwarranted.” 

Leah’s upper lip twitches the way it always does when she’s pouting and Fatin has to control the smirk that’s threatening to form.

“Poor baby,” the pet name slips out of her mouth before Fatin can stop it, which isn’t to say she regrets it, but calling Leah anything other than her name feels different now that Fatin is aware of her feelings (gross).

Leah squints up at Fatin again with that same damn unreadable expression on her face, but maybe there’s a hint to what she’s feeling by the way her cheeks turn a little bit more pink underneath the sunburn. 

(Thank God, her skin doesn’t give away what she’s thinking like that.)

Fatin reaches down and pats the top of Leah’s head. It’s not awkward if she doesn’t think about how awkward she’s being. (God, having feelings really does mess up her flirting game. This is embarrassing.)

“People do tend to get wet when they go swimming,” Fatin says. She’s too flustered to make a joke, even though Leah will never know that. 

“Shut up,” Leah doesn’t look her in the eyes, but she doesn’t pull away either. Her forearm stays pressed gently against Fatin’s calf.

“Hey Fatin?” she asks.

Leah turns her head and it should be illegal for her to look this good, Fatin thinks. There’s water droplets clinging to her eyelashes and the pink in her cheeks only makes the blue in her eyes more intense. 

“I think it’s your turn to get wet,” Leah says and fuck, if Fatin’s body doesn’t respond to that. But it doesn’t matter because Leah doesn’t give her a chance to do anything else other than have a two second mental breakdown before grabbing onto Fatin’s waist and one of her legs (!!) and pulling her into the water. 

The drop is higher than Fatin expected so there’s a moment where she’s suspended midair but still pressed up against Leah’s body, hyper aware of the multiple points of skin-on-skin contact they’re having. 

Fatin registers Leah’s hand on the back of her thigh right before they hit the water and God, she’s not strong enough for this. 

Thankfully, the water is cold enough to shock her system and by the time Fatin resurfaces next to Leah, she can’t even be mad, not when Leah’s looking at her like this, with her hair damp and her eyes bright as the water they’re swimming in. Their legs are tangled up under the water which makes it even harder to tread water, but Fatin’s not complaining. On the contrary, she’s scared to move too much in case Leah thinks the lack of space between them is making her uncomfortable. It’s not, oh my God, it’s not at all.

“Guess we’re both wet now,” Fatin says, not even hiding how breathless her voice sounds. She might have been off her game a few minutes ago, but not anymore.

Leah rolls her eyes, but also doesn’t make any movement to swim away so Fatin takes it as a win. Actually, she’s not sure but maybe Leah’s eyes flick down to her lips and she’s leaning in and Fatin’s shake underneath the water because she likes this girl so fucking much (also maybe at the promise of finally getting a fucking orgasm) and she’s closing her eyes—

“Hey fuckers, didn’t you just hear me yelling at Shelby and Toni? If you’re gonna hookup, don’t do it in our only water source! Actually, better yet, don’t hookup at all,” Dot yells. 

Fatin jerks back from Leah’s face, expecting the other to be embarrassed or at least shy, but that’s not what happens at all.

Leah looks at her, looks over to Dot, looks back at Fatin and grins, her face morphing into something Fatin’s never seen before. She doesn’t know whether to be scared or turned on so she settles on both. 

“Sorry Dot, no can do,” and with that Leah turns away and climbs out of the water. Fatin doesn’t even try to hide her staring, her eyes roving over Leah’s body, at the delicious lack of clothing on her skin, the way the water droplets are beading on her stomach, her hips. Forget about kissing, Fatin’s already halfway there, something Leah seems to know, which of course, only makes her more turned on.

Leah reaches a hand down to help Fatin out of the water and okay, she’s strong. One of Leah’s hands stays resting on her lower back until she’s completely steady and Fatin didn’t know it was possible to actually swoon in real time, in real life, but apparently so. 

“Don’t follow us unless you want to join,” Fatin calls back as Leah takes her hand and leads her away. 

“Jesus,” Dot says loud enough for Fatin to hear. 

“Use protection kids!” Toni yells after them.

“Well, that only took forty-seven days,” Nora says, but Fatin and Leah don’t hear her; they’re already too far away from the waterfall and busy anyways: Fatin has Leah pushed up against the nearest tree they could find. 

[simsandfiction]

Camping Confessions Part 2

Part 1 

Pairing: Grayson Dolan x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: After setting up camp, you and Grayson decide to go for a walk. You stumble upon a secluded lake. OooOh wonder what happens next!!!??

You were nervous about being the one to help Grayson put the tent up. You’d been there, hidden behind a camera, to witness the brothers try to figure out the instructions. It always ended in a big quarrel, and you didn’t do well with conflict.

“Whatever you do, don’t let this corner go.” He proceeded to fold the metal rod together, and slide it through the hoops, just like the directions had read. The fact that he read directions before diving in was a quality you admired in Grayson; it reminded you of yourself. “Okay, now slowly let it go.”

“Is this a trick question?”

His hair flopped as he looked up at you from his squatting position. His facial expression read -- are you joking? -- before his eyes lightened and a smile spread across his face. “No. This half should be able to stand on its own.”

And it did.

“Yes!” Grayson was quick to jump up and meet your raised hands for an ‘epic high-five.’ Both your hands stung a bit, but neither of you felt the need to mention it. You still had another half of the tent to build, after all.

You lingered for a second, admiring his bare shoulders exposed by the white muscle top he sported. Now that the boys weren’t uploading weekly, Grayson had been spending more time in the gym. You knew that. But it wasn’t until today, with the sun glistening down on his tan complexion as his arms stretched to fold the next rod together, that you realized just how much of his free time had been dedicated to his newfound pass-time.

Holding down the tent just like you had before, you let your mind wander. You debated on whether he would be strong enough to lift you -- to hold you -- against a wall as his mouth worked over your neck. You imagined you’d either have your hands on his shoulders, or tugging at his lengthy locks, or even running down his bare back as-

“And for the big reveal!” Grayson stepped away from the tent, motioning at you to do the same. He laughed like a kid as your hand released the nylon string and the tent didn’t topple over.

“We pitched a tent!” His embrace was sudden and forceful, almost knocking you off your feet. His strong grip was quick to wrap around the other side of you, keeping you from falling. Even with a thin layer of sweat and outdoors, he still smelled like fresh linens.

It took you a moment, but soon your arms were wrapped around his neck. Laughter and cheers surrounded the two of you as you jumped up and down, moving together as one. “We did it!”

The two of you had settled down and resumed your places in folding chairs. You sat with the cooler in front of you, digging down to the bottom as Grayson watched with an intent stare.

“We don’t want to fly through our P-N-J’s just yet!”

You handed him a sandwich and grabbed one for yourself as well before shutting the cooler. Without a word, you opened the reusable container and sunk your teeth into its soft bread. Your mouth was sticky with peanut butter as you mumbled, “I packed extra.”

His eyes danced down to your closed mouth smile, and his face softened. Something between awe and amazement plucked at his heart strings as he opened the container, taking a bite of his own.

“I’m back!” Ethan was marked up and down with scratches and splotches of dirt. He flopped down backwards into the last fold out chair, across from you and Grayson. “I got lost.”

“What do you mean you got lost? How did you get lost going to pee?”

With the flip of a switch, every ounce of anger or annoyance you’d spent the last hour trying to shake out of Grayson had built back up. His eyes bled with disdain toward his brother as he ripped out chunks from his sandwich.

You stood from your chair, grabbing the bottle of water from the cup holder. “E, Grayson and I are going to go check out the area. We’ll be back in a little bit.”

Watching you two stroll off, arms brushing and sharing small smiles, Ethan couldn’t help but to feel upset. He was happy for his brother, he could tell there was something going on between the two of you, but he just wanted to engage in a conversation without feeling like he wasn’t meant to be there.

“So I’m thinking we should look for firewood?”

“Didn’t know we had an expert survivalist on our hands.” Grayson’s shoulder bumped against yours as you squeezed down a narrow path. He smiled down at you, watching you watch your feet for any sticks or pebbles that might cause you to trip.

“Learned from the best.”

It was his turn to look at his feet.

“You’re cute when you blush.” You felt like you were walking on air, waiting for his reply. You were sure that the wind was going to trip you and your nervous limbs, sending you face-first into humiliation.

“That’s supposed to be my line.”

The two of you walked with quiet smiles on your faces, until you came across a lake. The body of water was surrounded by trees on each side, with the falling evening sun reflecting off of the still water.

“Last one in the water has to build the fire!”

Grayson knew he’d be the one stuck with the task, but he enjoyed the way your face lit up at the challenge. So, he matched your pace down the hill and raced to strip down to his underwear. Just as he had jumped off the rock, your squeal was muffled by a splash.

You pushed the water from your eyes just in time to see him resurface and do the same. Paddling over to him, you smirk. “Guess we can’t all be winners. It’s a shame, too. Your fire won’t last fifteen minutes.”

“Are you questioning my survival skills?”

“I might be.”

“You’re going under.”

A yelp escaped your mouth as you tore through the water, desperate to get back to shore before you got pulled underwater by the man stalking right behind you. When you could touch, you used your feet to try and tread through the water faster, but Grayson was able to reach your ankle and pull you down into the cold.

He let you catch your breath and wipe your eyes before slowly stalking toward you. With every step he took forward, you took one back. The dance, a mixture of heavy breathing and intense stares, continued until your back was against a rock. “Now, what was that about being a winner?”

With his hands resting on either side of your head and the mischievous glint in his eyes, you were unable to find words. You tried, you really did, but when his head tilted down and his hot breath fanned over your neck, you gave up.

His hand rested at your chin, turning your head to meet his eyes as his voice dropped to a whisper. “Stop me if you don’t want this.”

Alarm bells were going off in your mind, reminding you that this was your best friend. Somehow, as his eyes fell down to your lips, you found them quieting down and being overtaken with thoughts. Do it do it do it do it do it do it.

So you did.

You inched your head forward, connecting your lips. They were wet and soft and needy against yours. Your lips battled for dominance, which he easily won as your head came to rest back against the rock.

A soft moan escaped his mouth as your fingers tugged at his wet locks, and his hips involuntarily jutted against your stomach. The hand that had been on your chin was now cupping your jaw, pushing your head to the side as he left open mouth kisses along your neck.

Chills ran though your body and your own sounds began to escape your mouth. You found your leg trying to wrap around his waist, trying to — needing to — get closer.

“Jump.”

It was a simple command, one that caused you to open your eyes for the first time. You were met with his eyes, which held no trace of a joking matter.

So you jumped.

As soon as he pressed you back against the rock, you were reminded of how little you actually had on. You were sure the rock behind you was leaving scratches all along your back as he began to rock into you, making quick work of leaving hickies along your neck. You could feel him right between your legs, right where you needed him most, which only made the fire burning within you grow stronger.

Everything came to a halt so fast.

You felt like you were falling from cloud nine as all friction between you two stopped, and his forehead came to rest at the crook of your neck.

“Not here.” His words were muffled, but audible enough for you to understand that maybe you should get off him. Once you were on stable footing, he took a step back from you. His face was flushed as he pushed hair from his eyes. “We should start us off right.”

His words were simple, but they spoke measures.

“C’mon,” he offered out a hand, which you took, “let’s go back.”

Tag List: @dear-raspberry​ @msjackiealyson​ @mmmmmgd​ @graysavant​ @killmonger-dolan​ @wtf-no-idk​ @goblinwithnocore​ @writeblrforyourmom​

[hellowkatey]

The Plights of Force Vision: Chapter 2

Rating: T for Depictions of Violence and Injury

Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi has many infamous force abilities. He is most notorious for his connection with animals, though his silver tongue and acrobatic leaps are close behind. Lesser known are his visions, frequent and pungent. These are the tales of a lifetime of seeing too much.

Read it on AO3 Here!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2: Padawan Kenobi

"Come on Obi-Wan!" Bant laughs, and she does a front flip in the water, managing to splash the cold water directly into Obi-Wan's face. He shakes it off, splashing back, but missing the quick Mon Calamari completely.

"Look out below!" Quin yells from an upper tier of the Room of a Thousand Fountains, and the next moment he is plummeting down, and a shutter tears through Obi-Wan as he remembers the last person he saw falling down into the fountains... Quin folds his legs into his chest and lands with a satisfying kerPLUNK in the water. He comes up laughing. The waves ripple against Obi-Wan's knees, reminding him to calm down.

Obi-Wan can hear his master's constant reminder though the Master Jedi is on the other side of the temple: stay in the moment, padawan. Here and now.

Obi-Wan knows he has to get over it eventually... he has to get over all of it. The struggles of his past as well as the glimpses into a future unknown. Here and now. It is not often the majority of his close friends are at the Temple simultaneously. Ever since they all began their own apprenticeships, it is like their schedules refused to line up. Obi-Wan is admittedly away the most, so after a long string of short missions, he finally has some respite to spend much needed time with other padawans.

His friends paddle around the pools playing some sort of diving game. Taking a deep breath, he slides into the cool water, swimming out to them. As he approaches, he hears them cheering, and his chest is filled with warm happiness. He missed this.

"Okay Obi, here's the game," Bant says. "It's a relay. Quin and I are on one team, and you, Siri, and Garen are on the other."

"Two against three? Doesn't seem fair," Obi-Wan frowns.

"I will go twice, and I am half the swimmer Bant is, so it evens out," Quin laughs.

"There's a diving stick for each of us. Dive down, bring it back up, and the next person can go when you tag them."

Seems easy enough. They decide Garen will go first, then Obi-Wan, and finally Siri, who is deemed the best swimmer of them all. Siri starts them and Garen and Quin both take deep breaths, and start swimming down to the bottom.

The fountain is about 5 meters in this area, so it's a fair challenge. Garen ends up beating Quin by quite a bit and slaps Obi-Wan's hand. He takes a gulp of air and then plunges down into the water. The cheers of his friends are muffled into silence under the water, surrounding him with a calm that almost makes him forget the relay. Obi-Wan opens his eyes as he uses his arms and legs to propel him down. He lets out a few bubbles of air every couple of seconds to even out the pressure in his chest. Through his blurry vision, he sees one of the diving sticks. There is a splash from above, and Obi-Wan realizes Bant must be taking her turn. There goes our lead! He increases his pace, grabbing the stick, and repositioning his body to push off the bottom.

As he turns right-side-up, the water around him begins to distort and twist. Obi-Wan's eyes go wide in horror and all the air from his lungs seems to force out of him. No! He screams, not now, but it only comes out as a rush of bubbles. He tries to push off the bottom but he has floated too far away and his feet meet nothing.

The water turns to a blur of darkness and then focuses. Gone are the calm waters of the gardens, and now Obi-Wan is staring up at a horrible mess of contorted metal and billowing smoke. His ears are ringing, the only thing breaking up the high-pitched frequency being the muffled sound of others nearby. Slowly, Obi-Wan tries to sit up, but a horrible pain shoots up his spine and he has to bite back a scream.

"Sir!" a voice with an accent he doesn't recognize cries out. A moment later there is a man in white and yellow armor leaning over him. His dark eyes scan over his body and then look back at his face. "Are you hurt, sir?"

"My hip," Obi-Wan says, but he is shocked when his voice does not come out as his own, but much deeper and raspier. Then, a thought that isn't his own leaves his lips. "What of the others? Are there survivors?"

The man hesitates, taking a deep breath before shaking his head. "Only a few, general."

"Very well. We will return after the battle for burials. Now, we must reach that rendezvous point. Help me stand,"

"But, sir--"

"Help me stand!"

The man--soldier-- loops an arm around Obi-Wan's back and helps him to his feet. He bites back another cry of agony as pain shoots from his pelvis, the dislocation obvious from the numbness in his right leg and the shooting pins and needles coursing through his body. This needs to be set.

Standing, the leg is the least of Obi-Wan's concerns. Now, he has a full view of a ship practically torn in two, the opening displaying a horrid mess of fire and blaster fire. The sky is a rusty red color, foggy with smoke and debris from bombs that echo across the landscape. Obi-Wan sucks in a breath, feeling at his side for his lightsaber.

He hobbles with the help of the soldier out of the decimated ship and the maze of those who were not so fortunate as to survive the crash. He cannot look away from the haphazard clusters of soldiers lying over one another in a mess of blood, torn limbs, and burning flesh. Nausea rises in his throat, so he looks away. Obi-Wan instructs the soldier to help him to the ground and then he looks at him with nervous anticipation.

"You must help me reset my hip."

The soldier's eyes widen, looking down at the odd angle his right leg is resting at.

"Medical is--"

"Too far away. We mustn't delay."

The trooper kneels at his side, not meeting his gaze.

There is a deep breath.

A crack. The horrid sound of bone scraping against bone.

And a muffled scream that is unheard by anyone else, masked by the sound of an exploding bomb.

_____

Quinlan tags Bant's hand and she leisurely takes a breath and dives down. Unlike her human and near-human friends, the water is her home. She kicks her webbed feet, letting the water flow around her as she dives deeper. The lovely thing about the Room of a Thousand Fountains is they have designed the floors of the pool to imitate the changes in elevation in a true aquatic environment. Bant revels in the comfort it brings her and then shifts back into a competitive mindset.

She looks around for Obi-Wan, who she realizes should be making his way back up to the surface by now. His swimming abilities are a point of pride for Bant, as she was the one who taught him a few years ago.

She propagates herself upright and spins herself around until she spots a pale human boy a few meters away, and Bant's heart feels like it halts. Obi-Wan floats, unmoving, the diving stick still held limply in his hand. She frantically swims to him, now able to see his eyes and mouth wide open, no bubbles escaping his mouth. Bant grabs hold of him under his arms, trying as she may to not panic and she swims with him as fast as she possibly can back to the surface.

"Help!" she gasps, as they reach the open air. Obi-Wan's head falls limply back onto her shoulder and she kicks hastily toward solid ground. Siri, Garen, and Quinlan are frozen, just watching her swim away with an unresponsive Obi-Wan until they seem to simultaneously realize what is occurring and start following her.

"What happened?" Siri sputters as she jumps out of the water along with Quinlan. Together they grab Obi-Wan under his arms and hoist him out of the water.

"I don't know!"

Siri places her hand on Obi-Wan's cheek, using the other to shake his shoulder. Bant and Garen hop out, Garen making a mad dash for his commlink and Bant standing in shock over her friend. Obi-Wan is deathly pale, his eyes open and fixed, and his lips beginning to turn blue.

"He's not breathing," Siri gasps, and Quinlan pushes her hand out of the way of his cheek.

"Bant, you just took your field medic exam too, right?" he says, his eyes wide with slight panic. She nods and quickly sits next to Quin. He places a hand on Obi-Wan's chest and Bant puts one on his forehead. She can feel the Force surrounding them, growing stronger and more potent. Bant concentrates on isolating the Force within Obi-Wan that is distinguishable from the rest of him. She grasps it in the Force, coaxing it to come together and then depart. A deep ache starts to spread through her-- the practice dummies did not have the Life Force of a living being to differentiate between, making reality much more exhausting to pull off. Bant can feel her heartbeat in her ears as she finally gets a good grasp on the obstruction. The next moment, orbs of water are emerging from Obi-Wan's open mouth, splashing onto the ground.

To Bant's relief, Obi-Wan starts to cough and sputter. Siri helps Quin push him to his side, the remainder of the water pouring unceremoniously out of his nose and mouth. Exhaustion fills Bant, and from the way, Quin's shoulders are sagging he is also feeling the strain. Siri's fingers curl on Obi-Wan's neck in an instant, and she lets out a sigh of relief.

The relief is short-lived though, for when Bant looks at Obi-Wan's face again he still has that blank expression. Eyes open, skin pale, and now a slight tremor moving through him.

Frantic footsteps approach, and in runs Master Che and a team of healers. The Twi'lek healer is usually not a Master that easily loses her cool, but Bant can see the blatant evidence of shock and horror on her face.

"Move aside, Padawans," she says firmly, practically pushing Quinlan out of the way when he doesn't move fast enough. Bant helps Quin up and gathers together with Siri and Garen. They watch helplessly as the healers begin to work.

"What happened?" Siri asks, an obvious shakiness in her voice.

Bant doesn't answer. She doesn't have words right now. The adrenaline is beginning to wear off and the realization that Obi-Wan was not breathing for at least a minute or two is weighing heavy in her chest. She feels Garen's hand slip into hers.

"It looks like when he had that bad vision," Garen says in a tone also thick with emotion. "Poor Obi."

It must have been that. There is no other explanation as to how this could have happened so quickly. Bant has talked with Obi-Wan a little bit about his visions. She knows they come without warning, especially the bad ones. Bant catches a quick glimpse of him. He is still lying still, now with an oxygen mask strapped over his mouth and nose.

Master Che steps away, allowing the other healers to take over. She walks swiftly to the group of friends, looking at them with a much softer expression than when she first arrived.

"Padawans," she says in a calming voice. "You acted quickly and wisely."

"Will he be okay?" Quinlan asks.

"We will know more when he wakes up, but I believe he will okay. I must know how this happened, though."

Quinlan and Siri explain their game, pulling a lifeless Obi-Wan out, and then resuscitating him. When they finish, she crouches down to be eye-to-eye with Bant.

"You are shaken, Padawan Eerin. That is understandable in such a stressful situation." she places a calming hand on her shoulder. "You and Padawan Vos did excellent work. With Padawan Muln and Tachi's support, you four saved his life."

Bant finally meets the eyes of the healer and nods. Master Che squeezes her shoulder and returns to aid Obi-Wan. The Mon Calamari padawan takes slow deep breaths to calm herself, letting the words of the healer settle in. You four saved his life. They are not words she expected to be heard on an afternoon of fun with her friends.

_____

"And how are things going with your padawan, Master Jinn?" Mace asks him. Somehow his friend is much more intimidating sitting in that council chair than when he asks him the same question over tea. Qui-Gon looks around at the other council members patiently awaiting his official statement.

"Better, I believe. We have been working diligently to strengthen our bond, and after the last few missions to Kegan and Ord Sigatt, Obi-Wan has demonstrated his sincere apologies and proven his commitment to the Jedi."

There is a glance exchanged between a few of the council members that put Qui-Gon on edge. Mace looks back at him.

"And how is Obi-Wan?"

"Well, like I said he is being very good and was excited to build his own lightsaber when we--"

"I mean how is he, Qui-Gon."

Qui-Gon knows what they mean, but he is hesitant to speak for Obi-Wan. If he is being honest, the chasm between them is still a chasm-- but the council expects it to be a ditch at most. It is not like Qui-Gon doesn't want to trust his own padawan-- Obi-Wan has certainly proven he is more than useful in missions, and he can sense nothing but sincerity from the boy. But... there's still a disconnect he hasn't quite figured out. He had hoped taking him to Ilum would help. In a way, it had.

"Well, he's..." Qui-Gon trails off, a strange feeling coming over him. He looks around, sensing no danger nearby, so he reaches out through the training bond. Qui-gon sucks in a breath as he goes to brush against his padawan's mind and feels nothing. "--in trouble," Qui-Gon whispers, looking up in shock. Mace leans forward, looking perplexed.

"What was--"

"Obi-Wan's in trouble!" Qui-Gon says, turning and running out the door. The Force is tumultuous, twisting with concurrent feelings of danger, fear, and agony.  His throat feels tight as he stops in the middle of the hallway, unsure where he's even going. He can't feel Obi-Wan through their bond, can't seem to locate his Force presence... Calm down, Qui, the Force won't help you if you're panicking.

Behind him, there are rapid footsteps. Mace appears at his side. "Fountains. Healers were summoned." They start sprinting toward the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

As he grows closer, Qui-Gon is relieved to feel the faint presence of his apprentice. It is dim but it is something. Mace and Qui-Gon burst into the room to find a group of padawans huddled together, arms around one another. Qui-Gon recognizes Bant Eerin clutching the hand of Garen Muln as silent tears slip down the Mon Calamari's face. Obi-Wan's friends! He rounds the corner and feels his entire body stiffen. On the ground lays Obi-Wan, an oxygen mask strapped to his face and various other wires and sensors against his skin.

Qui-Gon approaches, careful not to disturb Vokara Che with a scanner pressed against his back. Up close, he is relieved to see Obi-Wan's chest rising and falling shallowly, but is taken aback as he realizes his eyes are open but unresponsive.

"Is he..."

"Still in the vision, yes." Master Che answers, frowning at the unconscious boy. "Otherwise, I can't tell yet." Qui-Gon blinks in surprise. He meant to ask if the padawan was conscious...

"Vision?" Qui-Gon asks. Suddenly Vokara and Mace's eyes are focused on him.

"Why do you sound so surprised?" Vokara seems quite shocked.

"I mean I knew he supposedly had them but..." Qui-Gon swallows hard as he stares at the unmoving boy. "I've never seen him like this."

Qui-Gon originally was worried about Obi-Wan's visions. It is one of the reasons he was hesitant to accept him as his padawan a few years earlier. They're a rare Force ability, and quite frankly he hardly considers them less an ability more than a curse. The anger he felt in a young initiate Kenobi paired with his supposed visions felt like a recipe for disaster that Qui-Gon was not willing to put himself through again. However, he very quickly proved himself wrong. Obi-Wan has proven easy to teach and much more in control of his emotions than Qui-Gon expected. Though he's made some mistakes in their short time together, Qui-Gon still finds himself continually impressed with his padawan's willingness to accept his wrongdoings and learn from them.

And slowly his worry about the visions also melted away. In fact, he isn't sure he's ever witnessed the boy having one. He chose to believe that maybe the boy had grown out of them, which was a choice rooted in hope rather than fact.

Staring at his unresponsive padawan now, Qui-Gon realizes he has allowed himself to bask in the light of ignorance, and sorrow fills his chest.

"We will talk about... that later," Master Che says in a low voice, turning her back to Qui-Gon to continue her assessment. "We must get him to the healing halls. Prepare a stretcher."

He watches helplessly as his padawan is hoisted up onto a stretcher and quickly taken away. For a moment he just stands, the Fountains crashing behind him suddenly the least soothing sound in the Temple.

He walks alongside Mace Windu in silence. Qui-Gon has known the great master long enough to know when he is formulating something to say, and right now he feels he is in for the lecture of a lifetime.

Instead, Windu just asks a simple inquiry. "You really never knew?"

Qui-Gon stares straight ahead as they approach the Halls of Healing. "If he had them, he never told me." A hand grabs his wrist gently, stopping him just outside where he can see Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon sighs, finally looking into the serious eyes of Mace Windu. "I had... suspicions."

"Suspicions?"

"I would awake sometimes. Feel distress through our bond, but it was always brief. He meditates a lot, too. More than any padawan I have ever trained. Now I..." he swallows hard. "Now I see he may have been hiding this from me." While Qui-Gon wants to be cross at Obi-Wan for not telling him about these visions, the emotion that gets caught in his throat is not disappointment. It's guilt.

Mace sighs, releasing his wrist. "Talk to the boy. A vision of this magnitude may be... traumatic for him. Especially with the drowning, he will need your support."

He nods, giving a grim yet thankful look to his old friend, and goes to see his padawan.

_____

Obi-Wan sits in the living room of the quarters he shares with his master, staring blankly out the window. His fingers fiddle with the waxy coating of one of the many plants Qui-Gon has about the apartment.

In the back of his mind, he can feel Master Jinn staring at him from the kitchen. Usually, he would turn around and engage in conversation, but speaking is the last thing he feels like doing right now.

It's been a week since he nearly drowned at the bottom of the Room of a Thousand Fountains. A week since Bant and Quinlan brought him back to life. A week since he woke up with the taste of dirt and blood in his mouth and horrific pain in his chest. Master Che explained that he must have breathed in a tremendous amount of water, damaging his respiratory tract.

A week since he lay in the Hall of Healing with his master standing idly by, seemingly afraid to ask. A week since he's uttered a single word.

At moments he feels bad. Obi-Wan can feel the uncertainty and guilt that Master Jinn is experiencing through their bond. Qui-Gon has been keeping his shields minimal ever since it happened, allowing their bond to flourish and strengthen. It feels good to see him reaching out, and Obi-Wan is in no way angry with his master for any reason, though Qui-Gon seems to think he is.

He just... isn't ready.

A few of his friends have come by. He can hear Qui-Gon give them the preface as they enter, as though he is deaf rather than mute.

"Now, Obi-Wan still is not talking. His lungs and throat are still very sore, but I know he appreciates your company. Just don't expect him to reply right now."

And Obi-Wan feels worse about his friends. They come to sit with him whenever they don't have classes, telling him all about their days, upcoming missions with their own masters, and news about the Temple. He nods along with them, not really reacting but at least letting them know he is listening. They all leave with similar expressions of unease, which Qui-Gon gives them a comforting pat on the back for as they depart. Truly, he does like their company. He just isn't ready.

"Padawan," Qui-Gon says, and Obi-Wan feels the couch dip under his master's weight. "Tea?"

Obi-Wan slowly turns, looking first at the steaming mug of tea that is being offered to him, and then at his master's face. Obi-Wan looks him in the eye, nods, and then takes the cup. He expects Qui-Gon to retreat back to the kitchen as he has done all week, but he does not.

"Obi-Wan, I will not try to offer any sort of understanding of what you have been through. I could feel only a sliver of the emotions you experiences while seeing whatever you saw, it was enough to make my stomach turn on the other side of the Temple," Qui-Gon shutters slightly. "But I want you to know that I am here whenever you are ready to speak about your vision... or whenever you want to talk about anything at all."

Obi-Wan stares as this unexpected monologue plays out. The entire week, Qui-Gon has been dancing around the topic. A number of masters would come, and they would stand there talking in hushed tones and fleeting glances in his direction. But never to Obi-Wan directly.

"I also... want to apologize. I have not done my duty as your master to guide you through these troubling experiences. You have done a very good job of hiding them, and I was willing to let you." Qui-Gon places a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, squeezing it ever so gently. "I am sorry, my padawan."

No lecture about dwelling on any time other than the present. No passive-aggressive advances. An apology. Obi-Wan blinks in surprise before resolve starts to sweep through him.

The next morning, they repeat the routine. Qui-Gon makes him tea-- they've been sampling their way through a set of Alderaanian teas, and today is a lovely aromatic jasmine loose-leaf. His master rambles about some drama that has been circulating through the Temple rumor mill, somehow managing to slip in an ever-so-veiled threat about if he ever caught him up on the Temple roof. For the first time, Obi-Wan smiles, and he can feel relief wash through Qui-Gon's features at the very sight. It's natural. Warm. Maybe it's the fact that Obi-Wan got his first full night of sleep without a horrifying nightmare to wake him, or maybe it's that Qui-Gon is finally relaxing around him. Treating him as not just a padawan but a friend.

The Jedi Master takes Obi-Wan's empty cup and starts to stand, but Obi-Wan reaches out and grabs his hand. He looks surprised, his dark eyes staring down at him with curiosity.

"This vision... was the worst," Obi-Wan says softly, his voice raspy from being unused for an entire week. Qui-Gon leans in, his eyes wide with the realization that his padawan has just spoken for the first time in over a week. Unmistakable relief fills his features and bleeds into their bond. Encourages him to continue. "The worst I've ever had." Qui-Gon nods, obviously unsure of if what he should ask, so Obi-Wan continues. "I was not just watching it, I was there. I felt everything, heard everything."

"Do you know where you were?"

He shakes his head. "I was in a war."

The Jedi Master's expression starts to darken. "Like Melida--"

He shakes his head again. "Different. Worse." Obi-Wan's throat feels congested as tears start to brim in his eyes. He feels a little ashamed to be crying right now, but just as Obi-Wan has not spoken in a week, he also has not yet cried.

And oh how he needs to cry.

He is swept into the arms of his master, the billowing sleeves of the cloak making him feel like he is wrapped up and safe. Qui-Gon's chin rests on his head as he cries into his master's chest, the vision coming crashing back. He unloads it all, the smells, the pain, the death. He can't see Master Jinn but he can feel the stillness of his body as he processes the desperate recounting of such a vivid experience.

When he finishes, he is just a mess of gasping and sniffles. Qui-Gon runs his fingers through his hair to soothe him.

"My padawan, you... you are very brave to face such trials."

"It was so real, Master. So real I thought waking up in the Halls was a dream and that was reality."

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon's voice is soft as he pulls back to look him in the eye. "I know your visions are difficult and can be very scary, but I do not want you treating them as your burden to bear."

"But Master--"

"When I took you as my padawan I promised to mentor you. Raise you. Admittedly, I have not always been very good at my duties, but I want to be better," As his master speaks more earnestly than Obi-Wan could have ever expected, he can't help the tears that start up again. These are different tears from earlier though. Not out of fear but out of relief. Happiness. Qui-Gon takes his hand, squeezing it softly. "You don't have to tell me what you see in every vision you have... but I do want you to let me know whenever you do have them. It can be as casual as one of your witty retorts you like to throw at me so often," Obi-Wan can't help a slightly embarrassed smile. "but I want to know. Do you understand, Padawan?"

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan says. So often he says those very words as the auto-pilot reply to everything. This time, though, he means it.

_____

Bant, Quinlan, Siri, and Garen sit on the edge of the pool in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. While this felt like a good idea when they planned it-- to come back to the room where Obi-Wan had nearly drowned two weeks earlier and meditate on their fears, the reality is much more difficult.

Every time Bant looks into the water she can see her friend lifeless at the bottom, his eyes staring into nothingness. She can feel ghost exhaustion from using the Force to pull the water from his lungs. The weight of his body as she swam with him to the surface. Meditation is hard to come by when the entire body is tensed up.

Bant is sure the others are facing similar fates. She knows that Quin has been so quiet as of late that some of his teachers have asked if he is feeling ill. Siri confided in her that she keeps walking past Master Jinn and Obi-Wan's apartment but hasn't worked up the courage to actually see him. Garen didn't eat a thing at lunch today. She knows Obi is okay now. He started talking again a few days ago, much to the relief of all of them, but Bant knows that he is still struggling. She saw it in his eyes the last time she visited-- whatever he saw has struck him to his very core, and she feels for her friend who certainly didn't ask for this fate.

She kicks her leg softly so a small wave pushes from her webbed feet. While Bant is sure a swim may clear her mind, she is hesitant to slip into the water in front of her friends.

"Aren't you all a lively bunch?" A familiar Core accent rings out from behind them. The four padawans turn to see none other than Obi-Wan standing a meter away, a shy smile on his face and a towel in hand. It's been a few days since any of them have seen him and Bant must admit, he looks worlds better. There's color in his face again and seeing his smile is like a breath of fresh air. The dark circles under his eyes are still evident, but Obi-Wan has never been known for having regular sleep schedules.

"Look who it is," Quin says with a half-smile more gusto than he has displayed all week.

Obi-Wan walks forward and sits down in the space between Siri and Garen. He kicks off his boots and sticks his feet in the water like the rest of them. Once he has settled he looks up with a nervous expression, his gaze fleeting between the four of them. Bant realizes that all of them are wordlessly staring at him. She clears her throat and the others seem to catch on.

"How are you feeling, Obi-Wan?" Siri asks carefully.

"Better. I, uh, came here to thank you all actually. If the Jedi believed in such a thing I would owe all of you a hefty life debt."

"Perhaps we should petition the council for that to be a new tradition. I do hate cleaning my quarters," Quinlan jokes. Obi-Wan rolls his eyes.

"I already help you clean your quarters, Quin."

"By help do you mean you do all of it while he folds and unfolds the same tunic?" Garen chuckles.

"Oh yes, and then he makes those toasted cheese sandwiches when he feels guilty for not helping."

"It's honestly worth the cheese toasties."

Now Siri and Bant are giggling and Quin is desperately trying to get a word in otherwise. The tension in the garden slowly begins to release until the five padawans sit in comfortable silence, a little bit of residual laughing every few moments.

"I heard you all were coming here to meditate," Obi-Wan says with a little more seriousness.

"How did you--"

"Our Masters are horrible gossips it seems," he interrupts Siri's inquiry. "I thought... I would join you all. I definitely have some..." he glances at the waterfalls crashing around them. "misgivings to work out with this room."

Bant smiles. "Of course you can meditate with us, Obi."

"And then we can all go back to Quin's for cheese toasties!" Siri adds, throwing a mischievous look at a defeated-looking Kiffar.

The padawans laugh and shift to form a meditation circle. Bant can't help but smile as she feels the presence of her friends around her, all sinking into the Force. The anxiety that had once made her head feel foggy begins to clear, especially as she feels Obi-Wan's own stress and fear release into the Force. While diving relays may not be a game they do in the near future, she can feel all of them on the mend.

[deputyrhiannonhale]

Nodus Tollens Chapter 2

(ooc) In this chapter, the same general trigger warnings are applied here! And once again let me know if you wanna be tagged or don’t anymore!

Chap 1

tagging: @returnofthepd3 @ja-crispea @f0xyboxes @shelliechen @xbaebsae @deputyjessicaquinn @dieguzguz @hopecountygazette 

~~ It took Rhi longer than it really should for her brain to register the imminent threat of drowning, and the fact that Burke was once again not giving a second thought to making sure she was ok, just swimming away from the truck as it sank closer to the river bed.

'Just wait until I get to the surface. I'll kick your ass before the Peggies can.' Rhi thought to herself as she pushed against the metal of the truck door to propel herself upwards and began kicking her legs.

When Rhi broke the surface, she gasped loudly, needing oxygen badly, before she paddled towards the bank. Rhi crawled up on the soft muddy surface, flipping onto her back, still taking in deep breaths, staring up at the starry night sky, fading in and out of consciousness.

"Stop! I'm a U.S. Marshal!" Burke was screaming off to her left and Rhi lifted her head to see the bouncing beams from flashlights and her heart rate spiked again. She still couldn't relax, footsteps brought her head to her right in time to see a tall bald man standing above her. He didn't have the cult look about him, but he still looked menacing in the paleness of the moonlight, she wanted to run, but the darkness pulled her under completely.

Rhi vaguely remembers being carried, she groaned a few times, but couldn't keep her eyes open. Flashes of her past with John filled her mind's eye. How sweet and kind he had been towards her. Spending months together as she recovered, learning about each other, and yet...he kept something this big from her. Had it been obvious and she was just too naive to put it together? Probably.

It was the night before Rhi was leaving to go back to Billings, she was packing her bags, getting ready to say goodbye to everyone, when an unexpected tapping sounded from her window. She jumped in surprise, her head snapping to the right to find John peering in her window, he gave her a small smile and a wave, motioning for her to open the window.

"What are you doing here?" She whisper-shouted at him, laughing as she opened the window and leaned on her elbows onto the window pane. 

"You really didn't think I wouldn't come and see you off, did you?" John replied in his normal almost cocky manner and Rhi scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"Considering I asked you not to because goodbyes are really hard for me and I can't get out tonight...yeah I did." She admitted, resting her chin on her palm, giving him a playful smile and wink. "Also...why didn't you just come to the front door? At least then you coulda come in." She asked, her brows furrowed in confusion, a subtle shift in his gaze went unnoticed by Rhi and John shrugged, chuckling softly.

"I guess I figured this seemed more Romeo and Juliet." John answered, causing Rhi to snort loudly, and she covered her mouth and nose quickly, until the laughing passed.

"Well...that's a love story that ended really well, huh?" They both shared a laugh then before John motioned for her to climb out of the window and join him. She knew she shouldn't, she needed to finish packing and go join Earl for dinner. Rhi looked over her shoulder at her door before finally deciding. "Fuck it." She clambered out the window, and took John's hand.

Rhi startled awake to find her hands zip-tied to a bedpost. She yanked at her restraints, growling loudly. She was mad at herself for being so stupid, that fucking look in his eyes that night should have been a warning. Mad at being restrained by who knows who, she was just mad at the world at this point in time.

"Why the fuck am I tied up?!" She shouted, yanking with every word, as she looked around the room and spotted the man she seen before she passed out.

"The cult is looking for ya. Smartest thing for me to do would be to hand you over." The man answered and Rhi scoffed, giving him a very vicious smile.

"Please, please do it. Let me at that fucking cult." Rhi was nearly frothing at the mouth in her anger, still pulling and twisting her arms trying to get free. The plastic ties were beginning to burn her wrists as she struggled as the man approached her, pulling out a knife and sliding through the makeshift cuffs. Rhi growled, tossing the zip ties across the room before rubbing her wrists gently.

"Now, there's some clothes over there that should fit. We need to burn that uniform." The man pointed over to a line of lockers against the wall as he spoke, and Rhi stood to her full height, giving him a quick nod. "Meet me in the back once you're done."

Rhi sighed loudly, opening up the lockers and digging through what meager amounts of clothes were there. None of it was her style, however that didn't matter at this point in time and she understood that; a denim vest, a shirt with 'TROUBLE MAKER' in black letters across her chest and a simple pair of jeans and combat boots were the closest to comfortable she was going to find.

Strapping her sheath with her bowie knife to her right thigh, she began to make her way to where she heard the man's voice calling out to different individuals.

In this room, Rhi discovered a conspiracy theory style mapping of Hope County complete with Joseph's, Jacob's, John's and a woman named Faith's pictures. She studied each person and what this man had written about them. Her anger had been so high she hadn't registered Faith standing behind Joseph as well at the church. She hadn’t shown much interest in Rhi considering her outburst.

"Oh good, you did find something that fits. I didn't properly introduce myself properly before. I'm Dutch." Dutch stated, as Rhi approached him, she gave him a quick but polite nod.

“Rhi Hale.” She introduced herself, holding out a closed fist, offering it for a bump in lieu of a handshake. Dutch stared down at her closed fist long enough to make Rhi shrug and give a heavy annoyed sigh and shove her hands deeply in her pockets.

“Wait, you’re Earl’s niece, right?” Dutch finally said after a few more beats of silence. Rhi gave him a tight smile, and another quick nod.

“The one and only. Now about getting to those fucking peggies...they’ve got Earl. I���m gonna get him back.” Rhi promised, looking over Dutch’s shoulder at all the monitors on his table top, and he laughed.

“Well, there’s a problem missy. I haven’t-”

“Don’t call me that.” Rhi interrupted him, her eyes shifting back to him to give him a very stern look, and he held up his hands in a placating manner.

“Understood. However, I still haven’t heard from Eli, Jerome or Virgil. I think the cult has messed with the radio tower on my island. Think you could help me out? You do this for me, and I help you however I can.” Rhi rocked on the balls of her feet as she thought about his request. She didn’t know him, even though he seems to know her, but given her affiliation, that wasn’t overly surprising. Yet, she still wondered if she could trust him. How does she know that he isn’t a part of the Project, and just steering her into more danger? Rhi let out another heavy sigh. She knew she wasn’t in a position to be picky at this moment. She had people to help. She pinched the bridge of her nose before running her hand through her hair.

“Yeah, I’ll help. I’m sure you’ve got people out there too that need help. This isn’t just about me.” She said on an exasperated sigh, what has she gotten herself into. This isn’t how her job as a police officer in a small town like this was supposed to go. Rhi expected the occasional drunk and disorderly kind of stuff and it’s nearly always the same people every weekend.

“There’s a gun and map in the safe over there that you can have. Once you get your bearings I’ll let you know where to go.” He instructed, pointing over to the safe to Rhi’s right back towards where she had come in here. She mumbled to herself as she walked over to the safe, picking up the gun and ejecting the magazine to check it, finding it not fully loaded. Replacing the magazine back into its spot, she racked the slide and placed it at the small of her back before picking up the map. Giving Dutch a two finger salute, she left the room to find her way out of this bunker.

Rhi shielded her eyes when she emerged, the sun proving to be way too bright for her, cursing under her breath at how much it stung her eyes. Once her eyes adjusted, she looked around at all the vegetation surrounding her, it was deceivingly peaceful here, she even took the time to breathe in and just bask in the natural music of the woods, but that didn’t last long before her radio beeped. 

Rhi trekked on, after finally having received more information from Dutch about how the cult was snatching people and how she should try and save as many as she could to get them on her side. Done and done she has told herself, knowing she would need as much help as she could muster from the way Dutch made it sound. She froze when she heard voices and what sounded like a loud punch, Rhi crouched and eased forward until she found the culprits; two cult members and a civilian.

Rhi didn’t even waste time, she picked up a metal bat that was leaning against the tree she was behind and snuck up to the female cult member, standing at the last second and thwacked her hard on the back of the head. The two men left looked at her in surprise as she pulled out her gun from its spot nestled at the small of her back and she trained it on the other cult member firing without hesitation. The man she saved stared up at her from his position on his knees, it was clear in his eyes that he was unsure if Rhi was a savior or more bad news. She finally smiled at him, replacing her gun at the small of her back and extended a hand to help him to his feet.

“Name’s Rhi.” She introduced herself as he dusted himself off, and she bent down to pick up the rifle one of the cultists dropped and tossed it to her new found friend. He caught it and juggled it a couple of times before finally giving her a quizzical look. “And you are?”

“T-Tom…” Rhi gave him a bigger smile and winked at him.

“Hope you know how to use that Tom, we are going Peggie huntin’.” She informed the still confused Tom as she walked by him and he turned, falling into step with her.

“Wait...you’re the new deputy, right?” Tom was a nervous man, she could tell just by his tone alone, she used to sound just like that in her younger days, and it took her back to all the times she tried to ask her step-ass for anything.

“I am. I’m going to take this cult down for fucking with me. Can I count on ya, Tom?” She looked up at the taller man, and he was smiling, the fire was lit behind his eyes.

“Absolutely!”

Tom proved to be more of a fighter than she had given him credit for, he was very stealthy, very quiet even when moving through the brush and tall weeds. He informed Rhi that it’s all about knowing her own body and how it moves, while also keeping the wind in mind. Move when the wind moves the weeds, and stop when it does. It was all information Rhi was taking to heart, knowing anything valuable now would prove priceless later. With Tom’s help, it didn’t take Rhi long to clear out what Peggies were inhabiting Dutch’s little island. 

“You know where the radio tower is, my dude?” Rhi asked Tom, smiling triumphantly at him, and he returned her bright smile, before motioning with his head over his shoulder.

“Just right over this way.”

Rhi stood at the base of the ladder leading up to the top of the tall tower, her hands on her hips, her head tilted all the way back, staring skyward. “Fuck…” She whispered to herself, before eyeing Tom. “All the way up there, huh?” He chuckled before punching her shoulder in a light playful manner.

“After all that, you trying to tell me you’re scared of heights?” Tom teased her and she laughed weakly, pushing him gently.

“Not the height...the fall is more the problem.” She confessed, as she rolled her shoulders, and began her climb to the top.

“Now, I know what you’re thinking, and no, I’m not gonna have you climbing radio towers all over the county. Just this one.” Dutch radioed to her and she scoffed, pulling the radio off her belt once she made it to the first flat surface.

“Not really...what I was thinking. But that’s good to know.” Rhi countered sarcastically, which caused Dutch to chuckle slightly.

“Same humor as your uncle. Now, don’t go falling.” Dutch suggested and Rhi rolled her eyes, sighing heavily.

“How did you know what I was planning, Dutch?” Rhi retorted, Dutch replied with a sarcastic ‘har-har’ before Rhi put the radio away and continued climbing.

Rhi hugged along the center of the tower, moving easily to the switch to bring it back to life, the wind stronger so high up and she took deep calming breaths, as she looked down. Big mistake, now all she was thinking about was missing her footing and falling to her death.

“You’re doing great!” Tom’s faint voice reached her ears and she couldn’t help but laugh, he obviously couldn’t see her sweating bullets up here. Rhi pulled in another shaky breath before turning and pulling the switch to start the radio signal again.

“Hey, that definitely did it, kid, I’m getting a good signal now!” Dutch praised her, and she slid down to a crouching position while she waited for more instructions, trying to steady her shaking hands. “Fall’s End needs your help. That’s in the Holland Valley. John Seed’s region.”

“Of course…” Rhi muttered out before grabbing the radio. “Do you know where Earl is at?” Dutch remained silent for a moment.

“Sorry...I don’t know that kid, but I can ask around for ya.” Dutch promise and she couldn’t ask for more.

“Thank you Dutch.” Rhi put the radio back and looked around, there was a zipline attached to the radio tower and she debated if she wanted to take the quick way down. Sweat was trickling down the back of her neck, and she looked down the ladder. Either way she could fall, but maybe the zipline would be faster, and she wouldn’t have to be worried about her freezing up halfway down, and having to embarrassingly call down to Tom to rescue her. She took a deep breath and zoomed down the zipline.

Right as her feet touched the ground, she wobbled trying to catch her balance and her radio beeped again, assuming it was going to be Dutch, she was shocked to hear John’s voice calling out to her.

“Deputy.” His tone was dripping with contempt, and it caused her to growl. As if he had any right to be upset about her for anything when he lied to her for so long.

“What do you want, bitch?” She hissed, her fingers squeezing hard on the device, and she heard him chuckle on the other end.

“Now...is that anyway to address an old friend?” He taunted her, provoking her to let out another growl, and she used both of her hands to mimic a strangling motion on the radio, pretending it was John’s neck.

“Friend?” She hissed again. “What kind of friend hides something so major?” John made a tsking sound at her question.

“Judging by your uncle's reaction, you hid our tryst from him.” That pulled Rhi up short, she hadn’t lied about her relationship with John back then, but Earl had also not asked her what she had been doing either. Earl had always just been concerned with getting her better from her head injury, bless his soul.

“He never asked, so I never brought it up.” She responded lamely, and she mentally slapped herself for sounding so stupid.

“Omission of truth is the same as a lie, my dear.” John continued to taunt, knowing he was getting under her skin just by how heavy her breaths were coming out.

“Fuck you ‘its the same as a lie’!” She shouted into the radio, shaking it violently. “You’re in a brainwashing cult.” She bit out as harshly as she could. “You were trying to get me in there! Do you even give a fuck?”

“We are not a cult!” He shouted back just as loudly, but then there was a long pause as he collected himself. “Why don’t you come by my place and I’ll show you how much I care.” John's tone was velvety smooth, and Rhi glared at the radio in her hand, had he really just tried to flirt with her? She grimaced, the audacity of this man was baffling to her.

“Not in a million years.” She quipped, a frown deep on her face, daring him to say one more thing.

“You couldn’t stay away from me, even if you tried.” Came John’s cocky response, and Rhi’s brows furrowed and she tilted her head, anger quickly rising in her soul. She bit down on the radio hard enough for it to creak in her wrath, and she promised herself shouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. Just as she was getting ready to find Tom, the radio beeped again, and she nearly threw it into the woods when Dutch’s voice sounded.

“Earl is in Faith’s region. Don’t believe everything you see there, and don’t listen to what she says, you got it?” Dutch had come through for her. John thinks she can’t stay away? Well, she will show him.

[aithrauniverse]

Chapter 9-Aithne

We had bad news, and— actually, we just had bad news.

Great. Now we were trapped in a goddamn house. A creepy and ancient one at that. (And for the record, it wasn’t fun. At all.) Picking up the card from the table, I read out,

“Each riddle is related to

The others, like a smaller clue

You have minutes thirty to solve

The puzzle, and you must resolve

The problem, or you’re stuck inside

But still, push your worries aside

You’ll have an hourglass to know

When time’s up, now, ready, set, go!”

A holographic hourglass materialized and began counting the minutes down.

“What are we waiting for?” I exclaimed. “Chop chop! Let’s go find stuff! Time’s ticking!”

Astra picked up the first clue placed on the table. Reading it to herself, she mused,

“You’ll find me on the mantel shelf

I give off light all by myself

But nothing works the same way here

Look for the friend of puppeteers.”

“Seems easy,” Laila said, “Just look for a marionette.”

“Marry who now?” I raised both eyebrows.

“A puppet,” she sighed.

We hunted for that damn puppet for a good two minutes before Astra exclaimed, “I found it!” Hurrying over, we looked down. Sure enough, a Victorian-style doll lay in a sitting position, its beady eyes eerily staring up at us and its strings completely tangled.

“Yup. Creepy as I expected,” I remarked. “Now for the second clue. Where is it?”

“I think we’re missing something,” Laila muttered, “Ah!” She walked over to the mantel, grabbed an ordinary-looking flashlight and walked over.

“We don’t need a flashlight,” I objected. “It’s bright enough already.”

“This probably doesn’t release normal light,” she switched it on. A beam of dark violet, almost black light, shot out. “It’s UV light. Made to decode messages. And if I’m not wrong, there should be one somewhere...” she pointed it towards the puppet, “...here.” Words previously invisible bloomed onto the doll’s skirt, sprouting out like fresh ink.

Laila picked up the doll with one hand and held the flashlight steady with the other. She began to read out,

“Good job, you’re not dumb after all

But science will help you down the hall

Now think— what lives a thousand times?

And tells the tales of heinous crimes?”

We remained silent for a minute, wondering what it could be. Then it hit me. “Guys, I saw a Nancy Drew book on the shelf when we were looking for that puppet,” I realized. “This is what they could be talking about! It does talk about crimes, and the only thing that can live a thousand times is a story!” Dashing off to the living room, with Laila and Astra hot on my heels, I picked up the book. Dusting it off, I was about to open it, when Astra stopped me.

“Wait,” she pointed out. “There’s a note stuck in it.” Yanking the (ew, hot pink) Post-It out, she looked at it, clearly confused.

“4 1 53 60

90 –1

9 53 75?!”

“How’s that even a clue?” I was so confused and annoyed, I wanted to kick a hole in the stupid wall. But then Astra pointed something out.

“Look, there’s something else on the back,” she said. “There’s a picture of the Periodic Table. Maybe there’s some sort of pattern..."

Astra flipped the paper multiple times before exclaiming, “Gotcha! These numbers represent the atomic numbers on the table.”

“But what about the ‘-1’?” Laila asked.

“Uh...  about that...  oh! That could be used to stand for an anion. Anions have one less proton than electron, which has a symbol e. Now all we have to do is line them up with the symbols..." Astra trailed off.

“‘Behind The Fire’! The clue is behind the fire!” I burst out.

“But how are we going to put our hand through the fire?” Laila asked. She had a point there.

“Maybe it’s not a real fire,” Astra smiled, “Like the hourglass; it isn’t real, but we can still see it! A hologram, see?” She put her hand through the crackling fire, making Laila sputter in disbelief. She pulled out a note, her hand unscathed. Peering over her shoulder, I announced, “Oooh, a limerick! Here goes...  

“Great work, you’ve followed through

Now here, I present the fourth clue

It’s tossed up high

As the paddle flies

And bounces on the table blue.”

“What bounces high...?” Laila pondered for a while, “Oh! Of course! It’s a ball!”

“Which ball?”

“How many balls do you think a room has? Just find the ball!”

“What do you mean? This isn’t a real room!”

“Okay, fine, but it’s easy to find a bouncy ball, no? Just find the light ones – like a…”

“Uh, guys, one problem,” Astra laughed nervously, pointing towards the left. “There’s a whole bucket of ping-pong balls.”

“... ping-pong ball...” Laila trailed off.

“Well, then, we just find the one with a note in it, don’t we?” I smiled. “Time to smash some ping-pong balls.”

As I found out, smashing table tennis balls was incredibly time-consuming. And boring. CRAZY boring. Seven minutes had passed, and still no sign of the note. “Guys, we only have eighteen minutes left,” Astra urged. Then, as I stepped on another ball, I saw it. That elusive note. Yanking it out, I passed it to Laila, “Would you care to do the honors?”

She took it and smiled, “Finally, a haiku.

“Darkness swallows you

Then you hit the switch, hopeful

Where is light set free?”

“Alright, haikus are officially my least favorite type of poems,” Astra groaned. “So mind-boggling..."

“Wait, I think I’ve got this one,” I interrupted. “I think... it’s a lamp! I saw a ceiling lamp in the ‘kitchen’. But how are we going to get the note?”

“We stack,” Astra smirked.

Another assumption I had made was that stacking ourselves on top of one another was easy. Again, I was proven terribly wrong. Laila was the tallest and strongest, so she stood below. I climbed on top of her and Astra, being the smallest, scrambled on top of me. In theory, it should have been like climbing stairs. But oh no, it was not. It was much more awkward.

At one point, Laila grumbled, “Aithne, your foot is in my face!” And she did not take kindly to my suggestion:

“Then get your face off my foot!” (Hey, maybe she hadn’t read Aru Shah yet. Or she was grumpy that my foot was in her face. Yeah, probably the second one.) 

“It’s supposed to be on my shoulder!”

“I’m telling you, you should really take a look at what Astra is doing to my head!  Woah... wha— Laila, stand still! I’m falling!”

“Why are you guys constantly shifting your weight between my shoulders—?”

“Astra, how DOES your hair reach me? Cut it – Laila! What the h—”

“No cursing, Aithne!!” Astra scolded, waving her arms.

“Wait, don’t move!! I’m losing balance!” Laila leaned to one side, our human tower swaying.

“I’m moving because you are!! Agh—!”

One and a half minutes (and a lot of cursing that was probably just me) later, Astra neatly hopped off my back, the note in hand. I rather unceremoniously fell to the floor, wincing as I rubbed my sore butt. Laila stretched. “Aithne, lose some weight,” she joked. I stuck my tongue out at her in response,

“It isn’t just me! Astra is heavy too!”

“But—"

Astra shushed the both of us and read out the (hopefully) final note,

“Two doors lie ahead of you

They’re colored white and red

Pick the right one, and you’ll pass on

Wrong choice, restart instead.”

There was also a footnote that read: ‘Even if you restart, the timing will remain.’

“Well, we’d better make the right choice then,” I tried to lighten the pressure. However, it didn’t help. The pressure was so thick that, forget a knife, you couldn’t even cut it with a freaking sword.

Then I remembered something I had heard last time from a Hindu friend of mine. Apparently, white was an inauspicious color. It represented things like asceticism and death and was reserved for mourners and widows... It represented giving up worldly desires. However, red was considered lucky... it was believed to represent sensuality and purity... saffron powder was applied on their foreheads on auspicious occasions... so does that mean should we choose red?

“Guys, I think we should choose the red door,” I decided. “In Hindu myths, white stands for things like death and red, purity and luck-bringing. This may make me sound very superstitious, but I think we should open the red door.”

“Sounds like what I said in the first room. Still, we trust you,” Laila said and gripped the handle. I silently prayed and covered my face as the door swung open, not daring to open my eyes. Slowly, I cracked them open and shifted my hand.

“Guys, we— we did it!”

[anistarrose]

Stan and Ford Vs. The Future - Chapter 4

Summary: The elder twins struggle to set aside their differences as they battle their younger selves in gladiatorial combat.

Warnings: none

AO3: archiveofourown.org/works/17353937/chapters/40832153

Aaaaand here’s the final chapter! This was a ton of fun to write, but I’m not going to lie, I’m also really glad that I can finally live without this unfinished WIP haunting me like a ghost seeking vengeance on the one who abandoned it.

For @stanuary Week 4: Fight.

***

TIME CHALLENGE 1

OBJECTIVE: Venture into the mirror maze and shoot the Time Target with a Time Laser Gun! There are two lasers to be found, but only one target, so whoever hits it first wins!

Both pairs of twins stand facing entrances on opposite sides of the formidable looking maze, and make a mad dash inside as soon as the buzzer sounds.

“We’ll find what we’re looking for faster if we split up. Why are you following me?” the old Ford shouts.

“I’m not following you! You’re just looking at your own reflection!” the old Stan yells back.

“Wait, really?” Ford turns around, squinting suspiciously, only for Stan to trip him and rush ahead.

“Of course not! Now move aside, slowpoke!”

“Fuck you!” Ford leaps to his feet and gives chase.

“Aha!” Stan stumbles across a pedestal with a massive metallic laser gun plugged into it. “Now, where’s that target —”

“Hand that thing over right now, you knucklehead!” Ford orders. “You’ve never shot a laser gun in your life — I have!”

Stan ignores him and adjusts his grip on the gun, only for Ford to tackle him and knock them both onto the ground as a stray laser blast shoots into the sky.

“I got here first, asshole!”

“Only because you tripped me!”

“Well, then maybe you shouldn’t have been so gullible!”

“Call me gullible one more time, and I swear —” Ford tries to wind up for a punch, but he’s hopelessly tangled in the laser gun’s power cord, along with Stanley. “Shit!”

The two older twins watch helplessly as Ford’s younger self darts by, pausing every few feet to adjust the angle of an individual mirrored panel in the wall.

“Wait, you can move those?” the older Ford gasps. “I didn’t even realize —”

“Yeah, of course you didn’t, Mister Gotta Be the Big Hero Who Shoots the Cool Gun and Saves —”

“Alright, Stan!” young Ford hollers, cupping both hands to his mouth. “Fire away!”

A red laser beam whizzes over the older twins’ heads, ricocheting off mirror after mirror. A fraction of a second after it zooms out of view, a fiery explosion erupts from near the middle of the maze, and the cannons atop the walls launch neon streamers and confetti into the air.

“We did it!” young Ford cheers, rushing off into the maze again to reunite with his brother.

“Great job, poindexter,” Stan mutters. “Ya think they’ll cut us out of these power cords for the next challenge, or are we just gonna be at a handicap for that one?”

Ford groans. “As if we’re not already at a handicap with your pathetic excuse for teamwork!”

“Says the guy who hit me with a flying tackle that almost made me shoot my eye out!”

TIME CHALLENGE 1 COMPLETE

YOUNG: 1, OLD: 0

*

TIME CHALLENGE 2

OBJECTIVE: Navigate the obstacle course while trapped in a bubble with your teammate!

Each pair of brothers is enclosed in their own translucent sphere, which robots then roll onto a downwards slope dotted with obstacles ranging from bowling pins to Cosmic Sand pits.

“What even is this? Some kinda hamster ball?” the older Stan pants, running in place inside the bubble so he doesn’t fall. “Wish I had Mabel on my team instead — then we might actually be winning some of these games.”

Ford body-slams him and their sphere veers off course, rolling straight into a grid of lasers that shred it to bits. As the laser beams momentarily flicker, Stan and Ford dive to safety — just in time to get run over by their young opponents, who are cheering and practically bouncing off the walls like they’re having the time of their twelve-year-old lives as their sphere rolls between the two flags that mark the end of the course.

YOUNG: 2, OLD: 0

*

*

TIME CHALLENGE 5

OBJECTIVE: Cross the finish line first on your team’s Time Bike!

“Stanley, this isn’t working.”

“I dunno, what makes you say that?” Stan shoots back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “No shit it’s not working, Ford!”

“I’m serious! We need to start putting aside our differences and working together, lest those kids wish their own personal fountain of youth into existence —”

“So you’ll be a better teammate? Cool, cool, I’m up for that.” Stan gestures to the neon motorcycle at his side. “You can start by riding in the back and letting me steer.”

“Are you kidding? You’re the one who needs a major attitude adjustment —” Ford cuts off, interrupted by the roar of an engine behind him.

“Hurry up, you old geezers! We’re already on our victory lap!”

The young Stan drives his team’s motorcycle right between the old twins, sticking his tounge out at the older Stan. Young Ford is standing atop the handlebars, smiling smugly and flipping the bird with two fingers on each hand.

“I always wanted to do this, and as long as I’m here, there’s no way Mom will ever find out and ground me for it!”

YOUNG: 5, OLD: 0

*

*

TIME CHALLENGE 7

OBJECTIVE: Cross the pit of deadly Time Traps to simultaneously press the buttons on each side!

All four contestants are unceremoniously dumped onto a floating clock platform, nearly tripping on the spinning minute hand. Other circular clocks of various sizes float next to their central platform, forming two distinct paths that each lead to a glowing red button — one on each side of a giant pit, lined with spikes and infested with hissing snakes that coil in the shapes of infinity symbols.

“You go left, I’ll go right!” the old Stan shouts, and for once, his brother listens, vaulting over the slowly rotating hour hand and onto the next platform with ease. Stan heads in the opposite direction, followed by the young Ford — but Stan keeps a solid lead thanks to his height advantage, while young Ford quickly gives up on jumping over the clock hands and starts just ducking under them instead.

“You ready, Sixer?” the old Stan calls, his hand hovering just a few inches above the button. “In three, two — oh, come on! What are you doing?”

The old Ford stands at the edge of a platform close — but not directly adjacent — to the goal, and he leans precariously over the edge. Stan is seconds away from cursing his brother out when he sees who Ford’s holding onto for dear life — the young Stan, hanging off the edge with his feet dangling just inches away from the fangs of three massive, uncoiled snakes.

“Look out!” the old Stan shouts as the minute hand whirls around towards his brother and younger self. Just in the nick of time, Ford heaves the young Stan out of danger and lets the two of them tumble backwards onto the platform, landing on their backs and barely fitting into the space underneath the minute hand as it whirls by.

“Well,” the old Ford says quietly, “that’s going to hurt tomorrow.”

“Why did you save me?” the young Stan whispers. “I thought — I thought you hated me…”

“What? I — you’re my brother! I don’t hate you…”

“But you will.” Stan turns over on his side, facing away from Ford to instead stare at his older self on the other side of the pit. The old Stan immediately looks away. “You hate him.”

Ford takes a full revolution of the clock to reply. “I’m angry with him. I hate what happened to my life, because of things that you — things that he did. But… I don’t hate him.”

“Then prove it.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Start acting like you don’t hate him. Give me a reason to believe you.”

Stan gets to his feet, jumping to the final platform and then to solid ground before Ford can even stand up. He swings his fist towards the button — but a second before pressing it, he hesitates, and glances to the young Ford, who nods.

“You guys deserved this win,” he tells the elder twins, backing away from the button. Across the pit, the young Ford does the same. “But we’re not showing mercy again, got it?”

The old twins press the buttons in sync, and the clock platforms plummet into the pit, shattering into neon-colored shards on the spikes.

“THAT CHALLENGE USUALLY HAS MORE CASUALTIES!” Time Baby pouts. “AT LEAST THE NEXT LEVEL WILL MAKE UP FOR IT!”

YOUNG: 6, OLD: 1

*

TIME CHALLENGE 8

OBJECTIVE: Cross the Time Bridge without falling into the tank of hungry Time Sharks!

In stark contrast with the rest of the arena’s sleek futuristic look, the two parallel bridges look ancient and decaying. The young twins immediately dash across theirs, paying no mind to the rickety planks or fraying rope, and the old Stan hesitantly puts his first foot forward onto his team’s bridge. It sways, but seems to hold.

“This is unfair!” the old Ford complains. “The kids only made it across because they weigh a mere fraction of what we do!”

“Finally, something comes out of your mouth that I can agree with,” Stan mutters as the sharks below take notice of his struggle and start swimming towards him. “Oh, come on! I’m sure I taste terrible!”

“Be careful, Stanley! You need to take lighter footsteps —” Ford shouts as Stan breaks into a run, but Stan ignores him — and sure enough, one of his feet punches straight through a rotten plank. He manages to grab the rope again and lift himself barely out of range of the sharks, even as they jump out of the water and try to chomp down on his legs, but the bridge is swaying too much for him to get much further up.

“I didn’t save your treacherous twelve year old self from snakes just for you to get eaten by sharks, you knucklehead!” Ford yells as he races onto the bridge. “Hang on, I’m coming —”

“Wait! Ford, it can’t support us both —”

This time, it’s Ford who heeds his brother’s warning too late as the ropes finally snap and he plummets into the water. Blinking salt out of his eyes as he resurfaces, he spots a ladder out of the tank just a few meters away and starts paddling towards it as fast as he can, even as he spots a dorsal fin peeking out of the water as it effortlessly glides towards him —

“Not so fast, Jaws!” Stan falls from the sky like a descending meteor, body-slamming the shark from above and no doubt catching it completely off guard. Ford takes the opportunity to scramble onto the ladder, kicking an approaching hammerhead in the nose as it tries to lunge after him, and then extends a hand to Stan, who accepts it and follows him up to safety.

“Thank you,” Ford gasps as he catches his breath. “I… I probably didn’t deserve that…”

Stan ignores him at first, concentrating on wringing out his suit, but finally speaks up.

“Well, to quote a pretty intelligent guy I know… I didn’t save your ungrateful ass from an interdimensional portal powered by radioactive waste just for you to get eaten by sharks, Brainiac.”

Ford can’t help but smile. “Alright, that’s fair enough.”

YOUNG: 7, OLD: 1

*

TIME CHALLENGE 9

OBJECTIVE: Defeat the killer Time Robot in a Time Basketball match!

“You know, Stanford,” the old Ford tells his younger self, “the world has made a lot of scientific progress since 1963! Would you like to hear about the sixteen new elements synthesized since then, or perhaps all the strides we’ve made in space travel?”

“Would I ever!” The young Ford’s eyes light up, and he drops the basketball he was holding. “Has anyone landed on the moon yet? Have scientists discovered an island of stability among heavier nuclei? How’s the theory of relativity holding up?”

“Don’t fall for it, Ford!” The young Stan grabs his brother’s arm. “He’s just trying to distract you while — aw, dang it!”

With his brass knuckles, the old Stan reflects the killer robot’s laser back into its eyes, then uses the opportunity to dunk his basketball directly through its flaming hoop, deactivating it.

“Nice one!” the old Ford shouts, and Stan shoots him a thumbs up.

“BZZT. YOU HAVE SUCCESSFULLY DUNKED ON ME,” the robot buzzes. “NOW YOU MAY MOVE ON TO THE NEXT ROUND.”

“Does the next round have a football robot?” the old Stan asks.

“NEGATIVE. NOW COME ON AND SLAM, AND WELCOME TO AN UNFORGIVING GLASS PRISON YOU WILL EITHER ESCAPE FROM, OR SUFFOCATE WHILE TRYING.”

YOUNG: 7, OLD: 2

*

TIME CHALLENGE 10

OBJECTIVE: Find the Time Key to escape the Time Hourglass!

As the young twins frantically sift through the sand in their hourglass, the old Ford whispers something to his brother, who gets down on his knees and grunts as he lifts Ford up. Ford unlocks the lock with a skeleton key, removing the mesh that covers the neck of the hourglass and scrambling up and out, pulling Stan after him.

“Where did you even get that skeleton key?” Stan asks, eyeing it curiously.

“A necromancer in another dimension enchanted it for me, actually!” Ford tucks it away before any Globnar officials can notice it. “As you can see, it’s made from actual bone and changes shape to fit any lock!”

“You know any necromancers in this dimension? Asking for a friend.”

“As I’m sure banks everywhere will be relieved to know, I do not.”

YOUNG: 7, OLD: 3

*

TIME CHALLENGE 11

OBJECTIVE: Scale the pendulums of the Time Clock!

All four competitors cling to the circular bottoms of identical brass pendulums, holding on for dear life as they swing in uncoordinated rhythms.

“Why does everything have the word ‘time’ in front of it in the future?” young Ford complains. “What else would an hourglass or a grandfather clock measure? It’s so redundant!”

The old Ford, while not disagreeing, focuses on unraveling a spool of rope from his utility belt and throwing the weighted end to the old Stan. He catches it, and quickly wraps it around his own pendulum.

“Now pull it taut!” Ford calls out, and Stan does as commanded. The swinging of their adjacent pendulums slows to an almost unnoticeable wobble, and the older twins make the climb with ease.

“You know, I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Ford admitted as he reached the top, “but I’m having fun.”

Stan tossed the rope back to him. “You know, I can’t believe you’re saying it either, but I’m glad.”

YOUNG: 7, OLD: 4

*

TIME CHALLENGE 12

OBJECTIVE: Be the first team to complete the Three-Legged Time Race!

Each pair of twins have their legs cuffed together, and the old team takes an early lead even as obstacles rise out of the racetrack in front of them — that is, until a spike bursts out directly in front of them and Ford dodges right as Stan dives to the left. Their cuff catches on the obstacle and they tumble to the ground, too stunned to get to their feet until long after the younger twins have overtaken them.

“Nice going, team!” Ford groans, but there’s no real malice in his voice.

“That was just a cheap shot,” Stan grumbles as he gets to his feet, offering a hand to Ford. He starts walking to the right, only for Ford to step to the left, and they can’t help but laugh as they accidentally headbutt each other.

“How did we mess that up twice? In two entirely opposite ways?”

“It’s rigged against us, I’m telling you!”

YOUNG: 8, OLD: 4

*

TIME CHALLENGE 13

OBJECTIVE: Embark on an Epic Time Quest using your Time Character Sheets and 38-Sided Time Dice to defeat the Evil Time Lich Overlord!

The young twins’ miniature fantasy avatars advance across the table, approaching a skeleton cloaked in translucent gray robes, but with a flick of its hand, it pulverizes Stan’s sword and Ford’s wand. They turn to dust that scatters in the cold, howling wind, and the young twins turn tail and run.

“You’ll have to do better than that to scare a veteran DD&MD player like myself!” the old Ford boasts, and in an overdramatic character voice, he adds: “Time Lich! Your reign of terror ends now!”

The skeleton readies another disarming blast, but Ford summons an antimagic field to surround his avatar, and he approaches the lich without fear as every one of its attacks bounce off the barrier.

“You underestimate me? I am the most powerful wizard in the land!” Ford bloviates. “It is my destiny to free this world for your tyrannical rule, and I have been training towards that goal for the entirety of the three hours I’ve been playing in this campaign!”

The lich’s eyes light up yellow with fury, but it remains oblivious to the old Stan’s avatar sneaking up behind it with a massive sword, carved from light blue crystal and imbued with divine might.

“Go ahead, fire more death bolts at me!” Ford taunts. “See how much good that does you!”

The lich plunges a bone-carved staff into the ground, and cracks begin to extend towards Ford. Yellow smoke with a rotten, sulfur-y smell pours out of the newly formed chasm at the lich’s feet, and the groans of the undead echo from deep inside the earth —

But they all go silent as Stan slices the skeleton cleanly in two with his enchanted sword. “Never turn your back on a rogue, sucker!”

The digital tabletop blinks, replacing the crumbling mountaintop setting with a congratulatory message: CAMPAIGN OVER. YOU WIN!

“That was pretty fun!” the real older Stan says, a smug smile still on his face as he retrieves the die he’d used to strike the game-ending critical hit. “You say there’s a version of this game that exists in our time?”

Ford notices the gum on the bottom of the D38, but decides not to bring it up. “There sure is! We’ll have to play again when we get back to our time!”

“I bet Dipper and Mabel would love to join — they’re nerdy and creative enough to have a ton of fun with it!”

“Wait, when does the game come out?” young Ford asks, grabbing his older self by the arm. “Where will I be able to buy it?”

“And who are Dipper and Mabel?” asks young Stan. “Are they friends of yours?”

The old Ford smiles. “What happened to you two not wanting to know what the future held?”

The young Ford is at a loss for words, but the young Stan looks at him in the eyes and smiles back.

“You gave me a reason to believe what you said before.”

YOUNG: 8, OLD: 5

*

*

TIME CHALLENGE 18

OBJECTIVE: Knock out the mighty Timeclops!

The young twins scatter out of the way of the Timeclops’s fire breath, watching in awe as the older Stan jumps on its back and socks it in its clock-shaped eye. It roars and shakes, but Stan keeps a tight hold on.

“You want me off, you’re gonna have to try harder than that!” he taunts.

The Timeclops bucks backwards, mismatched arms flailing, and Stan jumps off just in time for the old Ford to taze the monster in its exposed soft underbelly. It collapses to the ground, unconscious, and the victory bell rings.

Stan raises his hand for a high-six without thinking, and Ford very nearly completes it without thinking, barely stopping himself and dropping the taser in time. He starts to apologize, but Stan laughs it off and throws an arm over his brother’s shoulder.

“You know, Stan,” the younger Ford whispers, “I’m starting to think that growing up and becoming those guys might not actually be so bad.”

“Yeah…” Stan agrees. “But we’re still gonna kick their asses and win that Time Wish anyway, right? Just to prove that we can?”

Ford nods. “Oh, absolutely.”

YOUNG: 10, OLD: 8

*

*

TIME CHALLENGE 34

OBJECTIVE: Win the Time Arm Wrestling Match!

“Oh, this’ll be a breeze,” the old Stan boasts, flexing his muscles, but then narrows his eyes as he sees the young twins exchange identical knowing smiles.

“Not so fast!” the young Ford tells him, pulling a small marble Time Baby statue out of his pocket. “Back while you two were fighting the Timeclops, we found this hidden Time Idol, and now we’re gonna use it to turn the tables!”

He presses the hourglass emblem on the statue’s head, and its eyes light up green.

“FOR ONE ROUND ONLY, YOUR AGES WILL BE REVERSED!” a robotic voice announces, and the elder twins watch helplessly as they shrink back to the size and stature of twelve-year-olds, while the younger twins age decades in a matter of seconds.

“No!” the previously-older Stan wails. “My beefy arms! How could you steal them from me?!”

The previously-younger Ford rolls back his sleeves, examining his muscles. “Hey, I’m not a weak nerd anymore! …Not sure how I feel about these tattoos, though.”

The previously-younger Stan makes a fist, punching the palm of his other hand. “So, who’s ready to arm wrestle?”

“We forfeit!” the old Ford in a young body shouts, and his brother frantically nods in agreement. “You can take the point! Just put us back at our normal ages again!”

YOUNG: 17, OLD: 17

ONTO THE FINAL ROUND!

*

TIME CHALLENGE 45 — WINNER TAKE ALL TIEBREAKER

OBJECTIVE: Claim the Time Wish from the Time Serpent!

The four twins sit on a dock, watching as the arena slowly floods in preparation for the final battle.

“Cool!” young Ford exclaims. “Just like in Ancient Rome!”

“The more things change, the more things stay the same,” the old Ford adds. He awkwardly shifts in place, looking between his smiling younger self and his two equally content brothers. “Hey, kids? There’s no way to say this that’ll end up making much sense, but… thank you.”

The old Stan turns away from the others, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. No, don’t cry, not now and not here in front of thousands of people…

“Stan, are you all right?” the old Ford asks. “I think we’re starting in just a few moments…”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry.” Stan collects himself, turning back to face his brother. “I’m ready for —”

He blinks, and his voice cuts off. Bobbing on each side of the dock are identical boats, equipped with massive harpoon guns but otherwise not at all unlike the Stan O’ War back home.

The old Ford seems equally stunned. “Oh, right. They flooded the arena, so we’ll be sailing. Of course. Should have expected that…”

The young twins gleefully hop aboard their vessel, lacking any context that might make boats emotionally confusing, and get right to work raising the sails and loading the harpoon gun. The older twins procede onboard much more slowly and carefully, like they’re floating just above an underwater mine that could explode at any moment.

I have to bring it up to him now, Stan thinks. This is the least pissed he’s been at me since we were in high school, and we’re already right here on a boat, so it’s relevant…

But before he can summon the courage, Ford beats him to it and asks: “Stan, when we get back home… would you like to go sailing with me after the end of the summer?”

“More than anything else in the world, Sixer,” Stan finally manages after a long stunned silence.

The buzzer sounds, the boats raise their anchors, and a dark shadow uncoils beneath the waves, but most importantly of all, Stan feels alive in a way he hasn’t in years.

“Glad to hear it —” Ford tells him, interrupted as a wave from the serpent’s tail strikes the boat, but he laughs loudly and heartily even as he staggers backwards to regain his balance. “Now turn starboard, quick!”

Stan heaves the rudder to the side as the serpent’s glistening green-scaled head bursts out of the water. It opens a mouth lined with fangs and breathes a spray of brine directly into Stan’s face, blurring his vision, but with commands shouted by Ford every few seconds, their ship still navigates the waves with ease, dodging blow after blow from the serpent.

The other ship trails from a distance, unable to breach the unpredictable patterns of waves, and the young twins watch with wide eyes as the old Ford aims the harpoon gun and fires from point-blank range. The harpoon doesn’t pierce any scales, but its sheer force causes the serpent to reel backwards and gag, coughing up a glowing yellow orb that sails through the air and lands neatly on the deck of the old Stan and Ford’s ship.

Ford is poised to pick it up, but he pauses at the last moment, and waits for Stan to join him. Then they both throw their arms over each other’s shoulders and reach for it in unison.

The rotating hourglass symbol inside spins faster and faster, glowing brighter and brighter until the blinding golden light that emanates from it envelops the whole colosseum. When it subsides, the serpent dives back beneath the waves, and the older team’s score shoots up to the maximum.

YOUNG: 17, OLD: 999

TEAM 2012 WINS THE TIME WISH!

*

“YOU HAVE CLAIMED THE MIRACULOUS POWER TO ALTER TIME PARADOX-FREE!” Time Baby congratulates the older twins. “NOW WHAT WISH SHALL YOU MAKE, AND WHAT FATE WILL YOU CHOOSE FOR THE LOSERS?”

The old Stan and Ford look at each other, and then at their younger selves.

“We’re not going to wipe your memories, that’s for sure,” the old Ford assures them. “But I’m not too keen on letting you stay eternally young, either.”

The young Stan sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, it was kind of a bad idea anyway…”

“If my Ford and I had kept being stubborn assholes, I almost wouldn’t have blamed ya,” the old Stan admits, “but I think we’re done with that whole grudge thing, right, Ford?”

“It’s about time we did,” Ford agrees, before turning to address Time Baby. “Is it within your power to create two separate, coexisting timelines?”

“OF COURSE IT IS — I’M TIME BABY! I DROP MY PACIFIER, AND A NEW TIMELINE SPAWNS INTO EXISTENCE!”

“Well, then —” Ford places his hand on the Time Wish floating at his side. “We wish for our younger selves to be returned to 1963, but in a new timeline where they aren’t required to follow our path, while my Stan and I go back to our timeline in 2012. Is that alright with you, Stanley?”

“Almost. Just gotta do one last thing.” Stan points at his younger self. “Hey, you — be careful around your brother’s science experiments, don’t listen to Dad when he says you’ll never make a fortune, and invest in cryptid-based tourism as soon as you can. Should do pretty well for yourself as long as you remember all that.”

“Oh, that’s wise,” Ford says. “Stanford, you should absolutely visit the town of Gravity Falls, Oregon because it’s full of incredible anomalies previously unknown to science, but you should absolutely never read anything you find inscribed on the walls of the caves there. Also, just to be safe, be extremely wary around snappily dressed triangles or anyone with slit yellow eyes. Don’t build any interdimensional portals no matter who tells you it’s a good idea! Cryptozoology is more than enough to make you famous — not that you even need fame to prove yourself as a scientist. You’ll also do perfectly well for yourself as long as you’re careful around the supernatural, and stick by Stanley’s side.”

A glowing golden portal appears behind the younger twins, and they both nod.

“Thanks, guys,” the young Ford tells them. “See you — well, I guess we won’t be seeing or becoming you now that we’re not the same people anymore…”

The old Stan shrugs. “Look, I’m no scientist, but being parallel timeline versions of each other sounds close enough to being the same. At the very least, we’ll always be thinking of you guys, and you’ll always be thinking of us.”

The old Ford nods. “That’s a drastic oversimplification of the workings of the multiverse, but not necessarily a misleading one.”

“Goodbye, grumpy old us.” The young Stan gives them one last wave, and he and Ford step through the portal. “Have fun sailing around the world.”

***

The old Ford and Stan awaken on the porch of the Mystery Shack, the night still just as young as it had been when they’d first been arrested.

“Okay, Dr. Science, do you know why my watch hasn’t move forward even though I still feel exhausted?” Stan asks.

Ford sighs. “Just Time Baby having one last laugh, I assume.”

Stan gets to his feet and opens the door. “I’m gonna go crash in the living room. Not sure these old tired legs can make it upstairs.”

Ford follows him. “Glad I’m not the only one whose adrenaline has thoroughly worn off. I’m not sure I could make it downstairs.” He pauses. “Stan, in a day or two from now, after we’ve gotten some rest and maybe played some tabletop RPGs with the kids, how would you feel about exploring an alien spaceship with me?”

Stan collapses onto his chair in the living room. “Ask me again when my back isn’t killing me, but the answer then will definitely be a ‘hell yes.’”

Ford sits down in a chair at the table, pulling off his trench coat and folding it into a makeshift pillow. “Good night, Stanley.”

“Goodnight, Sixer.”

***

End notes:

In the prime timeline, Stan and Ford succeed in getting the alien adhesive from the spaceship, and use it to seal up the rift permanently — and then, just for good measure, study the Zodiac and use it to permanently banish Bill from the dimension. They spend the next few years sailing around the world, and meet up with the kids every summer for DD&MD sessions and other family bonding activities.

I think that the Ford from the new timeline doesn’t get into West Coast Tech, but does get a full scholarship to a school much nicer than Backupsmore. Stan is careful around Ford’s experiments, including the many inventions inspired by things Ford saw in the future — but Filbrick is still an asshole, so he kicks Stan out the day after he turns eighteen. Luckily, this coincides with Ford moving into his college dorm, so Stan semi-legally lives with Ford in his dorm room for a few months until Ford convinces him to apply to the college’s art program, and Stan’s comics about time travel start to garner a lot of attention. Somewhere along the line, they meet Fidds, and many fun Mystery Trio adventures are had in Gravity Falls without any Bill involvement whatsoever.

[thewhiterabbit42]

Wicked Games Part 2

Pairing: Gabriel x reader

Series Summary:  When a trickster seeks revenge on Gabriel, he traps the archangel in a sex dungeon with the person he despises the most: you.  

Word Count:  2726

Written for:  @spndarkbingo​ - sex dungeon

@heavenandhellbingo​ - dark fic

Chapter tags/warnings: kidnapping, nonconsensual removal of clothing, threats of violence

Series tags/warnings (as it stands): dark fic, medium burn, kidnapping, sex dungeon, mutual pining, enemies to lovers, violence, graphic depictions of horror, dub con, non con, oral sex, it’s a sex dungeon so likely all the sex, confessed feelings, bondage, more tba

<<Part 1

“You are such an asshole!” 

You’re crouched behind - well, you honestly don’t want to think about what it is you’re hiding behind.  Your stomach flips just acknowledging the combination of wood, leather, and metal bars, let alone the variety of uses one could get from it.  

There’s a chill to the room that settles across every inch of bare skin, which happens to be just about all of you, because someone decided to outdo themselves in the giant dick department and play the douchiest prank of the century.  Possibly the last several by snapping you to some god awful place in a matching set of black lace bra and panties.

This isn’t what you expected to find walking into an abandoned hunting camp in the middle of the woods.  It has to be Gabriel’s doing.  There’s no way that faded wooden planks can disguise this much concrete, let alone double in size the moment you walk through the door. 

You know you saw windows, a little sliding glass door off the side, but the only glass you can find comes in shapes for things you’re trying really hard not to remember exist.  

“This isn’t funny!”

“Do you hear me laughing?”  The sardonic edge beneath his words becomes lost to you as you look up at the wall.  

There are rows and rows of hooks with various items hanging from them.  Floggers, paddles, canes, whips, all staring back at your wide-eyed face.

Then there's the restraining materials; ropes, chains, zip ties, leather cuffs, actual manacles, metal ones that belong in medieval dungeons.  

Given the lack of anything but wall to wall stone, you can't discount that you might really be in one.  

What the actual fuck. 

Your heart hammers in your chest, and you have to remind yourself that none of this is real;  you haven't actually woken up naked in some sort of sex dungeon.  This is just Gabriel being a shit.  

The worst kind of shit, but one nonetheless.

"Bring us back," you order, hugging your knees to your chest.  

"You need to calm down," he barks right back at you. 

Yeah, like that's helpful.  Like you want the sensation of your lungs shrinking as another windowless room starts to overlay this one.  

You try to focus on something else, but it’s hard to ignore the way your head begins to spin as you struggle to take in air, how unforgiving the lights above you are, highlighting all the physical reminders of why you hate being boxed in by concrete.  

The back of your neck begins to burn with a familiar feeling of helplessness, signalling things are about to get messy real fast.

"You need to bring us back right fucking now!" You've never yelled at him before, not like this, and he has to know how much he's messed up and snap you back.  He has to.

"I can't!"  He erupts, voice booming through the large room.  "You really think I'd snap myself naked into a place like this?" 

The unspoken with you is a given, and you're so done with everything that it takes a moment for what he’s saying to sink in.

He’s naked?

You lean toward the end of the table, curiosity making you slowly peek around the side.  A muscular thigh greets you, pale golden skin offset by meticulous black stitching that runs nearly to his knee.  He shifts his weight, and you yank your head back a split second before anything else can slide into view.  

Oh sweet jesus.

Heat sweeps into your cheeks.  Of course he’d be naked.  Why wouldn’t he be?

"You know anyone else that can pull things out of thin air?"  Your retort comes out a little less confident, though you’re still not convinced he’s not to blame.  Who’s to say he’s not smart enough to put himself in a precarious position to prove his supposed innocence?

He goes silent, and after several seconds of nothing you begin to worry.

Your second glance around the corner gives you an eyeful of firm backside.  He’s drawn up to full height, spine straight and proud as if surveying his handiwork.

What.  A.  Jerk.  

"It's got to be another trickster," he announces.

Yeah.  Like you’re going to buy that.  

Your eyes are drawn past him to the carnival-esque signs that detail what can be found on each wall, as if advertising for things like ring tosses and balloon popping rather than dildos and nipple clamps.  Not to mention how every wall of sex toys is backlit in some gaudy display, surrounded by obnoxious flashing lights you might find on a gameshow.

What really makes you suspicious is the giant wheel in the midst of it all, which is clearly the centerpiece of this freakshow.  

"You're so full of shit." And you're so so over this. “Give me back my clothes and get me out of here right now.”

Apparently, so is he.  

“Are you really that brain dead after spending so much time with the dynamic duo?”  He snarls, and it isn’t the contemptuous bite of his tone that has your stomach knotting, but the black bands you notice as he throws his arms out wide.  “Because what part of I can’t did you not understand?”  

His hands shake with his frustration, the material around his wrists flaring bright with his anger.   

You swallow, more than familiar with the types of symbols that glow a heavenly blue before fading from sight once again.  

Oh fuck.  

“God dammit, Gabriel!”  You scream, because you have to scream at something.  Someone.  Anything.  

You drop your head back hard against the metal eyelets behind it.  For a moment there’s nothing but the small flare of pain and the increasingly frantic cadence of your heart thumping away in your ears.  

You’re actually trapped.  In a sex dungeon.  With a powerless archangel who hates you so much he'd likely prefer to bury his angel blade inside you before he touched you with his personal one.   

“What the hell did I do?” 

He has the gall to sound miffed, and you cling desperately to your fury like driftwood to keep your head from going under. 

"Anyone else kick a hornet’s nest lately and now has a host of vengeful deities on their ass?”  

He at least has the decency to shut his mouth for three seconds.  

You, on the other hand, lose the ability to close yours.  “Let’s not all speak up at once.”

"Just... let me think.”  The bite beneath his words unexpectedly vanishes, and you don’t like how deflated he sounds.

Your mind starts to race, the frantic pace pushing the fringe of hysteria with how fast it whirls.

You should have seen the signs.

You should have walked away.  

You didn’t, and just like before, you’re going to pay for it.  

“Jesus Christ, kid, can you take a breath?  I can’t hear myself think with the way you’re panicking.”  

He’s not harping for once.  If anything, he might be the one panicking, but you’re beyond being able to read the subtleties of his demeanor.  All you hear is the same message he’s been feeding you for months.  

You’re the problem.  You’re always in the way.  Useless.  Useless.  Useless.

“Why is it always my fault?”  You yell.  “I’m the one that always ends up as collateral in the collective shitstorms you bring down upon yourselves.”

You know you’re not thinking clearly.  You’re falling straight down a rabbithole that has nothing good on the other side.  But your brain doesn’t see that, and it can’t do anything other than fire away with warning.

“For all the bitching you do with each other, you’re exactly the same.”  Your voice continues to rise, adrenaline saturating your system.  “You’re so wrapped up in your own agendas that you can’t see what it’s doing to anyone around you even when the damage is sitting in front of your god damn face.”

For the life of you, you don’t understand why you do it anymore.  Your relationship with Dean is so broken you’re not sure it can ever be repaired, and you’re pretty certain what shred of one remains with Gabriel won’t survive this encounter.  

The archangel says your name, but you can’t hear him.  There’s so much you’ve held back and desperately tried to bury that there’s no more space for it to go.  Everything comes barreling to the surface in a tidal wave of rage, because you can’t allow it to be what it actually is.  Hurt layered upon injustices that fester so deeply, trying to cleanse yourself of it at this point might actually destroy you.  

But hate, you can handle that.  

“I don’t need either of you or your bullshit excuses!”

For a moment there’s nothing but seething red and an overwhelming need to release it.  You don’t even know what’s happening with your foot until it slams against the pillar in front of you.  The stone doesn’t give, but your ankle does, and you growl at the explosion of pain that cuts through the whirlwind of emotions inside of you.   

“Now, now, we can’t have you damaging the goods so early in the game…”  

You can’t tell where the voice is coming from, only that it’s everywhere.  Above.  Behind.  Flooding in from every side, wrapping you within the confines of its sultry accent and sending a knot through your stomach.  It pulls your head back above the water, where you find you’re dragging in lungfuls of air no differently than if you really have been drowning.  

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”  Gabriel knows who it is, and given recent events, you’re not reassured, even if he sounds more peeved than anything.  

The air next to the cement column shimmers, and if there was any give to the object at your back, you would have shot back several feet.  The thing sits bolted straight into cement, however, and it doesn’t do much other than wiggle as your spine slams against it.  

You’re not sure what materializes in front of you.  Those are definitely human legs rising up from the floor, long and lanky, with golden bronze skin that make you think of places filled with warmth and sunshine.  The rest of it is most definitely not a person, though you’re grateful at least one member of this party comes with clothing.  

Somewhere beneath the brightly colored wrap around its waist it changes, skin giving way to a sprinkling of fur that thickens the further up your eyes travel.  It’s chest is fully covered with a coat so glossy you’re tempted to see if it really does feel as silky as it looks.  As odd as the whole thing is, it helps make the coyote head sitting on top of humanesque shoulders a little less shocking.  

You take in the regal headdress that you imagine says something about its status, the red and yellow feathers a colorful contrast to the sea of blacks, metal, and greys of the room.  Nothing about the figure jars anything specific loose from your lore knowledge, though by it’s accent and appearance your guess would be some sort of deity from Latin America.

“You.”  The archangel grumbles, accusation threading through his word. 

The creature smiles.  “Me.”  He spreads his arms wide, an exorbitant amount of pride accompanying the gesture, and it’s not lost on you how very Gabriel-esque the whole entrance is.  “How are you, old friend?  I imagine you’ve seen better days?”

His gaze drops to where you’re sitting, and his head gives a curious tilt.  “And I imagine you have too, my dear?”

“Who the hell are you?”  You don’t feel as fierce as your words would imply, and you could be wrapped from head to toe and still feel exposed with the way he drinks the sight of you in without shame.  

The thing chuckles, clearly amused.   

“Kid, meet Huehuecoyotl,” Gabriel announces.  “Another trickster.”  

You can feel the smugness permeating the space around you, bordering on hubris in a way that’s been inauspiciously absent.  You can’t help but feel like it’s an act, no different than yours, and it only makes you that much more nervous.

“Now are you going to tell me what is going on, or are you here to finish that round of twenty questions we started at the turn of the century?”  He demands.

You can just see him now, hands on his hips, boorish indifference splashing across his features.  

The whole act is just as ignored by the thing in front of you as it would with you.  

“May I?”  The trickster inquires, though he doesn’t actually wait before he reaches for your ankle with grotesque nubs caught somewhere between a paw and a hand.  

You jerk back and he pauses, letting out a soft snort.  “Ah, yes.  How silly of me.”  

An unsettling popping fills the room, and you watch as it’s joints begin to shift, tips extending into fully-formed, fingers.  The fur covering them adds another touch of surreal to the whole situation.

“That’s better.  Won’t get very far without these.” He wiggles the new digits at you, bones cracking as they shake off their stiffness.  

He’s not going to get far, period, opposable thumbs or not.  

You’ve never been so relieved to hear Gabriel open his mouth or intentionally diminish your presence.  “C’mon, Coy.  Stop wasting time with her.”  

The thing smiles, and your stomach drops at the row of long, jagged teeth that emerges.  

“I don’t think you’re in any position to tell me what to do with my time, Loki, or should I say, Gabriel.”  He draws the archangel’s true name out, rolling the r on his tongue in a way that’s intimate.  

There’s an unmistakable gleam in his gaze when he glances up, and the moment the weight of his stare shifts from you, you realize how magnificent it is. Copper hues blend seamlessly with bronze, the colors tied together with flecks of gold that sparkle more playfully than anything. 

It tugs at something in your chest, something you immediately smother.

“That was quite the trick you both pulled, making the world believe that only one of you existed.” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head.  “But we’ll get to that in a moment.”  

With a wave of his hand, the room around you fades to darkness, as the light above your head intensifies.  The sudden spotlight makes you uneasy, as does the way you can still touch the floor beneath you, but not the table at your back.

“Seriously.  Stop dicking around with her and let’s talk about this.”  Gabriel’s voice floats in on the fringes, but it’s like he’s calling across a chasm, the familiar timbre distant and faded.   

It takes all of an instant to realize what’s happening.

“What do you want?”  Your arms tighten across your chest, and you’re even more acutely aware of just how exposed you are.  

“So many things.”  You can’t begin to unpack the complexities of his statement or the ones that follows.  “Mostly, I just want to help.”

Your eyes widen at the knife he brandishes, stomach plummeting well beneath concrete as he holds the blade up in front of your face.  Power pours off the metal, prickling over your skin in a way that alarms you.  It has to be ancient, filled with something you don’t recognize or understand.  

“Sometimes, in order to make something stronger, we must first destroy it.”

You can’t help but notice the short but curved blade attached to the end or the spiked ridges along the inner edge that can’t be for anything other than tearing through flesh. 

“Pain, as a construct, is ultimately fleeting, though the weight of breaking or watching someone break can be unbearable, no matter which side of the knife you are on.”

You swallow, eyes drifting up to the handle, trying to find something you recognize.  

It’s exquisite, a combination of beautiful gems and the finest spellwork you’ve ever seen with ethereal, symbols and lettering shifting along the surface in a way that almost makes them seem alive.  There’s no rhyme or reason to how they move, not that you can tell, and you’d be otherwise fascinated with the weapon, except it’s leveled in your direction.

“Now hold still,” He instructs, his grip on your calf tightening. “I’d prefer not to hurt you more than necessary.”

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[eregyrn-falls-art]

Okay!  So, this project was a LONG TIME coming to fruition, considering I first had the idea in about May of 2018, and bought the actual paddle that summer.

There are a number of artists who do painted canoe paddles on Etsy and so on, and I admired them a lot.  Most are strictly geometric (all the easier to do with painter’s tape; see under the cut).  But they’re also pretty expensive, and I didn’t think I could afford one.  THEN I came up with this idea for the design to not just be geometric, but pine trees and a symbolic lake and mountains (specifically 4 pine trees; I bet some of you can guess why!).  Once I had that idea, I couldn’t shake it, and that meant I had to do it myself if I wanted a paddle like that.  (And I wanted one that was full-size so that I could use it once it was all done.)

I bought an unfinished paddle from a seller on Etsy, and some of the materials, last year.  But for one reason and another (partly, intimidation about the process), I didn’t get around to doing it in the summer; and then I didn’t get around to doing it in the fall/winter/spring either.  I finally started it in August of this year.  

I thought that it would take me about 1 week to do.  Perhaps if I’d known what I was doing, it would have.  In fact it took a little over 3 weeks, what with various false starts and fixing mistakes; and also just, drying time for various layers.  Today I finally got a friend to come out with me to a location where I wanted to get a picture of it in good lighting.  Either this weekend or next, I’ll be taking it out with a canoe to actually use it.

I’m pretty happy with it!  It’s hanging in my living room now.  I know a GREAT DEAL more about the process now. If I ever do another one, it will go much more smoothly.  I also really now appreciate why the person whose work on Etsy I admired was charging $275 for one.  That is not over-priced AT ALL.  (I actually never truly thought it was!  Just more than I wanted to spend.  But I totally get her pricing, now, too.)

Under the cut, I’m going to put a bunch of process pics and some explanations, because, might as well record it somewhere!

I don’t have a pic of it in its raw state, but here it is in the midst of the staining process!  In its raw state, it was a very light color; I think it’s made of ash wood.

I should mention that I had drawn patterns to test out the idea, and then used Photoshop and color sampling from Krylon spray paints to work out what colors I wanted to use.  However, as we’ll see below, I ran into a lot of problems with the color samples not actually matching the colors of the spray paint out of the can.

First color on!  Spray paint.  You can see at the top where the masking fabric is still on up near the grip for the stripe of the same color.

Above, just to show what it looked like with the blue “mountain” chevron all taped up. I used these cheap painters cloths to supplement the masking tape, to keep the mist of the spray-paint from getting on the rest of the paddle.  (I was mostly successful.)

Issues with the masking not quite working, and also at right you can see where the color has faintly gotten onto the wood, from the spray’s mist.

Third spray color down!  The “farther mountain”.  At this point I was NOT super happy with how the dark blue looked.  I had wanted it to be a bit lighter and a bit more greyish?  (To suggest a mountain in the middle distance.)  This was a case where the blue out of the can was different from the blue color chip on the website.

Now here’s where things get really tricky!  I had drawn the pine trees on a manila folder, to cut out and create a stencil from them.  At this stage, I didn’t think I could create a tape mask for them, so I decided to hand-paint them.  I was aiming for a nice, deep-but-not-too-dark hunter green.  So I did one side in an acrylic paint. And... it’s not the RIGHT color.  I felt it was too yellowish, whereas I wanted a green that leaned more towards bluish.

So I went and bought more paint, hoping I could get a better color.  (Note: I was also, at this stage, afraid of mixing a custom color, because of the time it would take to paint all those details on BOTH sides of the paddle, needing it to dry between painting each side, and being worried that the custom-mixed acrylic would dry up before I could finish.)

Anyway -- after this attempt, it’s STILL WRONG.  Much too dark. Almost black in some lights.  

At this point I decided that I needed to use spray paint to get the color green I wanted.  But that would mean creating a tape mask for the trees.

So, stick with me here -- I still had the stencil that I had created, to line the pattern onto the paddle, to do the above painting.  But when I was doing the hand-painting, I allowed myself to go over those lines, and make the branches of the pine trees more robust.  But that meant I could not use the older stencil to create the tape mask, because it was now smaller than what I had painted ON the paddle, and wouldn’t cover the existing paint.  

So I got this translucent film (it’s actually for a laminating machine), traced the actual linework on the paddle, used an exacto knife to cut it out, and used THAT as a stencil.

At the same time, I decided to try to fix the problem with the color of the blue chevron, by buying a spray paint that said it was “slate blue”.  AND, I also had to create a little stencil and tape mask for the little pine trees up on the grip.

So yeah, once I had used the stencils to mark the lines of the pine trees on the taped areas, I then had to cut all along those lines with an exacto knife, and carefully peel away the tape on the parts I wanted the paint to go on.  On BOTH sides of the paddle.  

So, you’re not going to believe this, but... BOTH the blue and the green were STILL WRONG!   

The blue was WAY too light and not what I wanted at all.  (The color swatch on the spray can lied to me.)  This doesn’t show it, but the first pass I took with a “hunter green” spray resulted in trees that were also too light.  This was the SECOND spray painting of the trees, with a darker hunter green.  (While it looks very dark here, trust me, this one will actually work out in the end.)

In order to fix the blue chevron, I decided that I would have to custom-mix a color and hand-paint it.  

(You’ll notice above that I had also finally done the symbolic snow-caps on the “farther mountain”.)

This is probably the best pic I have showing the colors pre-varnishing.  This blue is perhaps not completely what I envisioned, but it was close enough that I don’t think it will bother me.  (I would also say that I wish the lavender of the “farther mountain” wasn’t quite so bright, either.  You know -- hat’s off to the “glacial lake” turquoise at the bottom, the only one I never had trouble with!)

I didn’t actually take pictures of all of the varnishing steps, but let me just tell you: so first I tried to use a spray varnish.  But I didn’t like the gritty texture it was producing, I wanted something smooth.  So I had to sand all of that off.  Then I got an oil-based liquid spar urethane (for waterproofing wood on boats and stuff), but it was very yellowish.  While that wasn’t a problem on the darker colors, it definitely could be seen over the lavender, the white, and the turquoise.  So then I had to sand THAT off all those bits.  And I got a water-based crystal clear gloss spar urethane that promised it would not yellow.  

Then I had to do like 4 coats of that, on each side.  And let it dry for a really long time between coats.  And I had to figure out how to do it so that I didn’t get too many long drips of the varnish.  (Problem: trying to do a coat of varnish with the paddle resting over the improvised saw-horses seen in the earlier pics led to problems.   Even letting the varnish dry for longer than usual, this was still August and kind of humid.  I would flip it over to do the other side and -- once I found that the plastic drop-cloth had bonded to the varnish; and I had to sand that off and re-coat those bits. Then, when I tried to rest it on cloth, I found that even though I’d let it dry thoroughly, there was an imprint of the cloth texture in where it had rested.  So I had to sand THAT off and re-coat those bits.  I finally hung it from the basement ceiling, which worked, except even with very thin coats, I got some drips as the varnish dried.  I would LOVE to know how the people who do this for a living get nice even coats of the varnish!)

So anyway, there it is, and the irony is that in the light in my living room, it’s not that easy to see the color of the pine trees anyway, lol.  But I still really like how it looks.  And as you will have seen in the top pics, it looks really nice outside in natural light.

Will I ever do one of these again?  Maybe!  But not soon.

(And if this inspires you to want to do this, and you want an even more exhaustive discussion of what I learned during the process, tips, and what I’d suggest avoiding, please do hit me up!  I will say that if you don’t care about being able to USE the canoe paddle for real afterwards -- if you just want something decorative -- you can get even cheaper canoe blanks on Etsy, and the varnishing would probably be even easier.)

[sweetheartblue]

An update on life!

Super long so it’s under a read-more!

So, last friday was my First Official Day Of Work In My Big Girl Adult Job! It was super great for my first two days, because nobody was in the lab and all I did was online training.

Then tuesday happened.

For some context: I had just gotten hired for this brand new lab site that the company was opening, and I had gotten hired for a Microbiology Technician 1 position. Now, this lab’s main job is meat testing, which I expected to be gross, but oh....my god.

So I go into work on tuesday, and the rest of the lab staff is there. I meet some coworkers, one of whom is absolutely monstrous. She glared at me, wouldn’t hold any sort of conversation with me, and purposely did things faster to make me frazzled. We’ll call her K. I meet my supervisor, and my other coworker (gonna call her A) who are both better than K. Then, my Boss-boss comes over and tells me to observe the process for the meat shipment processing and preparations for path lab. 

The process kinda goes like this: open meat bag, add nutrient broth, add water, roll bag, place in stomacher, put in labelled bin.

Not too bad, yeah. Is it really what I got hired for? No, doesn’t match the job description at all. It’s fine though, I’m just excited to work.

Then second shipment comes. I’m observing, when suddenly not one, but two people on the line decide to go on lunch. Leaving me and K. Me, who has no fucking clue what she’s doing, and K, who is a raging demon in the body of a tiny woman. K starts filling bags as fast. as. she. possibly. can. 

I’m trying to roll bags the right way (didn’t know how), put them in the stomacher (didn’t know how), and put them in their bins (kind of knew how, but it was a lucky guess). This hell continues for god knows how long, and then finally we’re done, and I’m crazy behind, and K is being Very Rude And Dramatic because I wasn’t fast enough. Girl, it was my first day doing shit!

Wednesday comes around. Kind of a better day. Supervisor decides I must do All Cleaning In The Lab By Myself. We get a late shipment and I’m on station #3 (stomacher to bins) duty with A and my supervisor, and I’m there until 9:30pm, which is an hour after my shift was supposed to end. Supervisor asks me to do a last minute clean and asks if I wanted to say later for some overtime. I had an hour drive home. I said “no thanks, not tonight” not thinking it would make my life Worse. Supervisor makes a face. I leave and go tf home and dissolve into my bed.

Then, Thursday. Oh, dreaded, terrible, horrid Thursday. I’m starting to get the hang of things but I’m still slow af. I get into work, and my Supervisor condescendingly tells me I miss meat and a bunch of other things while cleaning the night before, and that I need to be more attentive. I was never told the proper cleaning process and what did or didn’t need to be wiped down at all ever, so that’s fun. Supervisor then tells me I clean things wrong in general, that the way I wipe counters doesn’t actually clean them and that I need to do it a specific way. Okay, weird, but I’ll try harder. First shipment comes in, we prep bags, and I get placed in station #2, which is rolling bags and placing them in the stomachers. Then, oh, then. Things start spicing up.

First, one bag popped. Blood meat chunk water starts spilling out of the bottom. A runs over to stop the machine and tells me to keep going while she cleans. I continue rolling. K snaps at me and runs over to a stomacher, basically snarling at me that I need to stop the stomachers when a bag pops. I hadn’t even noticed it popped because I was trying to keep up rolling with her pace. Then three pops, and then four. I notice four soon enough to stop it. Every stomacher is totally covered in meat on the inside.

Now, if y’all are like me, you had no fucking clue what a stomacher was until the first time you saw the word. It’s a big heavy ass metal box with two paddles on the inside that pump back and forth to agitate samples placed inside.

To open it up and get inside, you have to grab the front panel while it’s open (like in the picture above) and lift it up off the bottom hinge. THEN you have to flip it towards you and around, so the outer wall is resting against outer wall on top, and the inside of the front is facing up. It sprays blood and meat EVERYWHERE.

Did I mention these things are heavy as fuck?

Supervisor is alerted to problem. Supervisor turns to K and says “have her clean this up” even though I was standing...right...there......two feet away.....and also I have a name. K turns to me, snorts, and says “have fun with that” and then goes back to filling.

I am bewildered. And grossed out. 

So I start at it. I take the trays out from under each stomacher, dump out the meat and blood into the trash (I get some on myself), clean the trays, open up the front panels of the stomachers (I get more meat on myself), try to get the meat off as much as I can and as thoroughly as I can because I was just yelled at for missing meat so since they were going to be hand-stomaching I thought taking my time would be fine. I’m halfway through cleaning, two stomachers down, and my supervisor comes rushing over. 

“When this happens you need to go faster. You need to clean one of these out in three to five minutes maximum because the priority is the bag filler, and if you can’t keep up with her, then you’re holding up the whole production and are responsible for slowing down the entire lab.” He then grabs my bleach and paper towels and cleans the whole stomacher that I had literally just gotten all the meat off of and shows me how to do exactly everything I was doing right before he got there the exact same way I was doing it but fast. I can tell he is angry. He throws his shit away and leaves me to clean everything up alone so he can go talk to K. 

I finish cleaning. I am stewing in my brain about how much I hate my job. I go to the bathroom and cry.

I go do internet security training and drivers training. The second shipment comes. My supervisor aggressively tells me to take my break. I go eat lunch.

I come back from lunch. there is my Supervisor, A, and the other new-hire Tim (not his real name he just feels like a tim tbh) doing the shipment. They are taking their time and actually training Tim on how to roll bags and the correct bucket order. A rolls some and Tim watches. Tim rolls some himself. I come over. Supervisor and A immediately leave for lunch as soon as K comes back from her lunch after me. K fills at a normal human pace. I become bin runner for Tim as he is somehow incapable of moving his bins himself. I am bitter. We finish shipment, Tim is sent to do training, I’m told to clean the lab up. I am fuming.

I do more training. Third shipment comes in. I ask “Hey Supervisor can I help?” He snaps no, so I finish my training. I get locked out of the other training site. I go to help. Supervisor leaves me with K. She goes the speed of light. I aggressively keep up with her bc there are still no stomachers being used, and that shit I can handle. She doesn’t say a word to me when I try to make small talk. 

Shipment 3 finishes, I get to clean (surprise). At this point I don’t care, I only have a half hour until I can go home and I am counting by the SECONDS. Time hits. I leave. 

I get into my car and just cry. I call my boyfriend and cry on my drive home. I get into my house and cry to my mom. I feel overwhelmed and cry to my dad. I feel trapped and wasted and bamboozled and stupid for taking this  job. I don’t want to go back. I would rather die than go bad. I am very sad. It is very hard to be openly disliked for being new for 8hrs a day. I type up a resignation email through tears. I go to bed.

In the morning, I edit the email. Then I send it. My boss asks me to reconsider. I say no. I don’t go to work on Friday.

And thus, I am back to the job hunt. I should be going to a few interviews this coming week. Honestly anyplace is better than that shitty lab.

I never want to work with food ever again. Beef kinda turns my stomach right now, too. 

Yikes.

[ocherrywine]

From Eden

Fandom: Good Omens , Ineffable Husbands

Words: 947 Language: English Ch: 3/?? Rated: T Current Chapter Warnings: Extra Relationship Flirtation Future Chapter Warnings: Domestic Emotional Abuse , Talk of Cheating Characters: Crowley, Aziraphale, Agnes Nutter, Gabriel Other Tags: AU, Modern AU, TV!GoodOmens, Human!Crowley, Human!Aziraphale, Human!AU, Friends to Lovers, Asexual!Aziraphale In Beta

Aziraphale caught on rather quickly that this new book club of theirs was not so much about reading and discussing his collection of prophetic and non prophetic literature, but more so an excuse for Crowley to come by and simply talk to him. This was not a surprising revelation. No, the surprising thing, Aziraphale found, was that he didn’t mind.

Bits of Wilde and Shakespeare peppered into their conversations from time to time, sure. By matter of fact, they had managed to stay on track at one time for at least a full hour. Crowley would often bring over little treats from Agnes’s, or other little trendy spots Aziraphale had scarcely heard of. They would start with coffee or cocoa, or on the occasional Sunday afternoon Aziraphale would crack open a bottle of wine. Crowley would make a light hearted jab about not letting the boss find out Aziraphale was drinking during business hours [1] knowing full well Aziraphale was the owner and sole employee. 

Aziraphale had tried for a time to convince himself that he was perhaps merely pleased not by Crowley’s company, but by the idea that his books would remain in their proper place. Crowley would read what would interest him, and then toss it aside somewhere. Aziraphale would tut at the mercurial serpentine about how there was a system- but he suspected deep down that Crowley only did it to get precisely this reaction out of him [2]. However, this pretense on both their parts subsided as they merely began to talk more and more often. 

The book-keep found that the reality he must contend with was simply that he had made a friend. A friend who was not going anywhere any time soon. A friend he did not so much understand, but still found within a kinship. A common tongue between them. 

He could make his peace with that.

It became a comfortable routine, as familiar as his worn waistcoats.

Though, it would seem, Crowley always brought around some freshness. New life. A splash of vibrant defiance to fight the fading and dulling- today, quite literally. Crowley had presented Aziraphale, together with his patisserie offerings, a bouquet.

Aziraphale wasn’t sure what to say, or to think...so instead, he offered, “But I haven’t a vase.”

Crowley smirked, producing one from inside the large patisserie bag, “I figured- I have plenty.” Crowley had arranged the flowers in their tall clear vase on the table near one of the windows, next the armchair Aziraphale most favored when he sat to read.

Upon settling into this armchair, Aziraphale delicately examined the velveteen petals. The arrangement was of blushing Alstromeira, peach Roses with lips kissed a deep red, and little sprays of Queen Anne’s Lace. Crowley was draped on the couch, flipping absentmindedly through a novelty photography book of the night sky. 

“Where did you get these?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Hm? Oh- s’one of mine, actually.”

“One of yours? Are...are you a florist? Is that what you actually do?” Aziraphale felt rather guilty as he...had never actually asked about the kind of work Crowley did. Crowley just sort of...came and went as he pleased. He would appear some days, wouldn’t appear others- but was there often enough. He supposed he had to have some manner of job, didn’t he? I mean, with all the different pastries he bought and the flashy clothes and the vintage car…

“More of a hobby, actually. I...like to garden. Arrange flowers. I talk to them, sometimes. Well, maybe not so much talk to them as...just let it all out. Calms me down- all this nervous energy.”

“You have quite the eye, dear boy,” Aziraphale found a warmth in the idea that Crowley had put together the blooms himself...just for him “they look splendid.” It wasn’t a gesture Aziraphale had experience himself outside of the second hand in films or books...best not to examine that further, though. 

Aziraphale moved along with a different question“What is it that you do then, anyway? You’re here all the time, but I feel like we hardly know each other.”

“Oh, well it’s nothing too terribly interesting…” Crowley sat up, now leaning his cheek on his hand and looking at Aziraphale, “I work freelance as an art conservationist. And a critic. Go to a stuffy gallery show here, re varnish a painting there… The money is good, if you find a good client and convince people they want to hear what you have to say. Suits me fine, I’ve never been one for the standard 9 to 5...and I have a lot of opinions to share.”

Aziraphale sensed here was a gulf, one which he could choose to pick up the paddle and row across to meet Crowley...or...or…

Instead, he chose to simply offer a proverbial hand- to turn on, tentative, the lamp of the lighthouse should Crowley choose to follow it’s guiding beam to shore, “I haven't been to many galleries before. I’ve certainly wanted to but...never the time, never found someone to go with me.”

“Angel,” Crowley had insisted on keeping up with the nickname, despite Aziraphale protesting, “Would you like to go along with me? I mean, it’ll be a work thing...dreadfully boring. Decent champagne, though. Gonna be at this little boutique gallery next Friday evening about 7-ish.”

“Well,” Aziraphale smiled, “I suppose you bother me at my place of business plenty. Why shouldn’t I get the chance to bother you at work for a change?”

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1. What Aziraphale never told him was that the bookshop was actually closed on Sundays. Aziraphale decided he would rather not mention this, for fear this would bring an end to these pleasant brunch visits.

2. It was.

[antpernas]

1/5/21

Now THIS was a DAY.

It started when I woke up at 1:30 AM; why I woke up this early when I had gone to sleep so late, only the universe has the answer. Regardless, after about an hour and a half of trying to go back to sleep, I decided to just start my day. First thing I did was some stretches, a habit I’ve been trying to make myself have again since I’ve been having some really annoying aches and pains. I stretched for about 30 minutes (probably a little more) and I felt better SOO quickly! I must’ve popped out all the pinched nerves from my joints or something because all the major pains I had were gone, those being in my lower back and my neck. After that, I got up and started making my tea and some breakfast. I finally learned how to make poached eggs! Once I did all that and washed the dishes, I did all my skincare and got ready to head out!

My original plan was to head to a state park further north I had originally planned to first see on a date. I still had my kayak strapped on my car from the day before, and I was pretty much all ready to go. The drive was an hour and 20 minutes, and at this point it was about 5:00 AM, so I had enough time to make the drive and still catch the sunrise. Unfortunately, what I was not anticipating was to drive up to the entrance of the park and see a sign that said “Closed Tuesdays and Wednesdays.” The universe constantly reminds me I can never win!!! But that was ok!!! The treasure coast had plenty of things to see and lots of places to kayak in. I didn’t know that yet, but I’d be DAMNED if I would drive all that way and not look. I made a note to learn how to pick locks so that closed fences wouldn’t be an issue in the future, and drove off.

Since the state park was closed, I just went east and drove southward along the coast until I found something worth pulling over at. And what a good idea that was! I eventually came up to a bridge to watch the sunrise from. I parked at the park in at the base of the bridge and took a bunch of pictures. I never realized the sun rose so quickly! When I was leaving, I saw a bird with a fish! Super cool stuff.

After I finished watching the sunrise, I headed to a different state park to try and get some kayaking in. The one I found was called the St. Lucie Inlet Preserve State Park, and it was SUPER cool because it was only accessible by boat! After a brief moment of confusion (the GPS directions took me into a residential community instead of one of the launch sites), I got to the correct place and started getting ready to kayak. The launch site had a map of all the nearby kayak launches, the kayaking trails, and some more information that you usually find on those sorts of things. I decided to take the shortest kayaking trail (which was 2.5 miles) before actually going into the park. Once I got enough of a look at the map, I took down my kayak and took off! It was about 8:00 AM at this point. As I was launching, the most adorable old lady who I assume was listening to the radio waved and smiled at me! She was so cute!

The kayaking trail was GORGEOUS. But there were two things I was not anticipating; 1) the rich boaters having no issue traveling at what seemed to be full speed, almost determined to flip me and my kayak, and 2) taking four entire hours to get through this trail. Nonetheless, it was a wonderful time! The trail cut through the middle of the barrier island, and some parts were so shallow I had to get out to drag my kayak, which let me stretch my legs and give my arms a rest. The sights were gorgeous; I saw fish, birds, and every once in a while some dragonflies would rest on my kayak. I even found a hermit crab! About what I assume was halfway through, I got super hungry and VERY fatigued as a result. I have no idea why I’ve had such a vicious appetite these past few days. Nonetheless, I pressed on, and I enjoyed every minute of it (aside from the hunger).

The last part of the kayak trail was the most difficult, since I had to paddle upstream. To say that was a test of strength would be an understatement. And honestly, if not for the fact that I was capable of eating an entire cow in that moment, I probably would’ve had the strength to just power through it all in one go. Unfortunately, I did not have a cow available to me, so I had to stop at a little beach section on the barrier island. Once I rested a bit (I facetimed my mom), I got back on the kayak and pushed myself to get to the dock, which was the entrance for the state park. I walked to the beach and back across the most GORGEOUS boardwalk, then paddled the last stretch back to where I had originally launched from. Again, this whole trip took four hours. I was amazed at the face that I had only traveled 2.5 miles, and was dumbfounded as to how people could complete an entire 13 mile trail in a single day.

When I got back to my car, I literally chucked every single fucking thing in there with no regard for how tidy I was being. I loaded my kayak, washed my feet off in the water and then hobbled back to my car. I was absolutely STARVING. I put in an order for Chick-fil-A and hightailed it there. I managed to eat a chocolate milkshake, large fries, 10 chicken nuggets, an arnold palmer, and more than half of a chicken sandwich before I started getting nauseous from eating so fast. I still had a salad to get to, but I decided to let myself shake off the nausea before I tried to get that down. I stopped at a Walgreens to use the bathroom, then I started my drive home.

The good news was that I had travelled so far south without realizing, it was now only a 40 minute drive home instead of an hour and 20 minutes! The bad news was that I was so physically exhausted from kayaking that all I wanted to do was pass out, and I still had to go help my mom with some deliveries. Somehow, putting on anime helped me stay awake and be more alert while driving? Pro-tip for next time I guess! When I got home, I took a quick shower, unloaded my kayak so I’d be able to wash my car, and somehow worked up the energy to empty out my car so I could vacuum it while I was at the car wash. At this point, I was feeling more awake so I wasn’t too annoyed about having to keep driving. At this point it was about 3:00 PM.

The drive to the pharmacy also went by pretty fast (putting on anime while driving was the best decision I’d ever made), I just picked up the medicines and took off. The first one city, the second was a little north of that, and the last one was back in Loxahatchee heading home. After I finished the second delivery, I stopped at a car wash to get all the dried sand (from the kayak) and other random shit that managed to find its way onto my car, and then vacuumed all the sand that had kicked off from my sandals from the carpets. I was going to do a deep clean, but the vacuums were really weak, so I just did the bare minimum and told myself I’d deep clean at the other car wash I liked better.

The last medicine was on the way home, but I got caught in the WORST traffic jam literally right before my house. An entire road was blocked off, and everybody had to take the detour by turning left onto a single lane road. The drive went from 10 minutes to get home to an hour. Again, thank you anime for accompanying me in my moments of crisis.

After I dropped off the last medicine, I hightailed it home and ate my salad. I think after that I just scrolled on my phone in bed for a bit until I passed out. I didn’t even brush my teeth or do my skincare or anything, I was SO fucking exhausted. I’m only just now getting around to writing it all out! What a day.