#but i grabbed a bunch that was more purple than the first one i got

[ebonysolcum]

I’ve got so many roses! 😂

[soyoursoulisgreen]

11, 20, and 29 for the oc asks :> for any of your guys!

Oohh but who to pick! Who's been on my mind lately, who I haven't already talked up too much hmmm... Maybe Minki! :D

11. What was your inspiration for your OC?

Minki was the fallout of one of my Vargas AU brainstorm session actually (how??) where I was trying to come up with a pun for a potion shop owner - she came name first, then the logo of her business, then her full design! I ended up being so happy with her that I fully fleshed her out into her own character and she's taken up residence with a few other OCs that I haven't explored quite as much, but I have thought about a good clip

20. If they fight, what’s their weapon of choice?

Minki is a potions witch! She's not much for fighting herself - she makes a business of selling her potions so other people have the upper hand in their fights - but she keeps some in reserve if she needs to defend herself! A basic set of strength, stoneskin/defense buff - a fire-res in conjunction with a bottled fireball is quite effective on any hopeful intruders hehe

29. Imagine a mood board for your OC! What’s on it? (Make it if you want!)

Just a mini one this time hehe <3 She's a fairly straightforward gal!

[iratempestatis]

did someone ask for... XIAO REQUESTS??

*manifests in a purple glowy glittery cloud from a magic circle on the floor*

I have been summoned.

What about a scenario where Xiao is trying to get a gift for his s/o? have him not only maybe trying to craft something, maybe he wants the gift to be so perfect he goes around Liyue and the harbor to find the best wrappings, the best ribbons and the best snacks to go along with his gift?

Xiao SOOOO needs more fics these days 😩

"For You."

Xiao x gn!reader, 4k words.

Just a bunch of fluff, Xiao might be a liiiitle bit ooc but I tried my best <3. I had way too much writing this lmao, it's vv self indulgent. It did diverge a teensy bit from how exactly you wanted, anon, but I hope you still like it <3 Feel free to send more Xiao asks!

Xiao remembers the first time he got you a present.

It was nothing, really. You mentioned needing violetgrass to finish a commission one day. It'd made Xiao wonder why exactly an adventurer would need a medicinal herb in such large quantities, but he hadn't known you for long, so he didn't bother to figure out why.

You didn't talk to him much back then- only really knowing him because you were forced (yes, you!) to cohabitate with him while you found a residence in the harbor.

You were impetuous- not of faith and certainly not respectful, and it irked you massively when he'd step away whenever you greeted him, or silently turn his back on you and vanish. He didn't quite know how to articulate why without venting his frustrations to a stranger, so he never did.

He remembers you being violently sick during the colder months and still stubbornly trying to yank your bags out of a friend's arms, furiously sniffing and telling them you needed to do this.

Xiao knew for a fact you were diligent with your commissions- you liked Mora and you liked being comfortable. It couldn't be rent. He couldn't help but puzzle about it for hours, tucked away in the soft, cool damp trees on Wuwang hill until your shriek broke him out of his reverie.

After abruptly appearing before you (and scaring you more than half to death), as well as many hours of hunting the elusive herb made even more elusive by the chill, you had a nice basketful by evening.

“I wanted two,” he remembers you saying ruefully. He can't remember what you wore or even what you'd sounded like. Or if that was even what you'd said. But he remembers knowing you needed two basketfuls somehow, and you only had one, and your eyelids weighed down by disappointment, and the press of your lips.

He remembers putting a second basket in your balcony by dawn, and he remembers feeling a sudden rush of fondness when he found out you did it unexpectedly for a sick Baizhu, without his knowledge, expecting no fee. He remembers talking to you more when you lunged out of the shadows at Wangshu inn, to grab his arm and beam and thank him. He remembers the first time he touched you on his own- fingers gingerly reaching forward to pluck a piece of thread off your face. He remembers you disappearing for months on a long mission, only to return home and run straight into his arms, your newest glider fluttering on your back. Right there in his arms. He doesn't remember breathing. He remembers the way your fingers felt when they brushed against his in that moment, for the very first time. He remembers you asking if you could hug him, “just for a moment please,” and he remembers scoffing in surprise, then quickly saying yes.

But for the love of- god? Which god? He was a god and he didn't love himself too much. Morax? For the love of Morax, then, why couldn't he remember the things you liked?

He remembers everything you like and nothing all at once. Books? You have them. Brushes? Clothes? Would you even wear what he bought you? What if it wasn't your style? What if- maybe a bag? No, you never used bags you didn't buy. Something about the quality of the fabric. A handbag? Would you use it often? Probably not. Another glider? A glider made of his feathers, perhaps? Dear god no, that would be. Alarming. Snacks? You'd eat them. They're an addition, not the present itself. Furniture? A body pillow? You mentioned wanting a Ningguang body pillow. What the fuck is a body pillow?

He bites back the urge to throw his almond tofu at the wall. A gift for someone so precious must be one of equal value– but really, what could compare to your smiles, or the way you veered into him on walks, or the way you’d stumble to the bathroom in the middle of the night? Or your adorably frustrated expression when your cooking turned out not quite right? Every minute spent with you was spent carefully watching, memorising. He couldn’t bear the thought of forgetting even the smallest details.

He remembers his first gift to you- a silver hairpin, laden with heavy flowers of jade and quartz that chinked against one another at the slightest movement. He remembers the the way your eyes widened when you unwrapped it.

It frustrated him.

You were pleased with all his presents- you never seemed to prefer one over the other. The amulet he brought to protect you? With you in a pouch on every commission. The hairpin? You wore it on special occasions. The crystalflies he caught you on a whim were kept in a pretty glass container on your bedside table. You kept the flowers he brought you for months until even their potpourri turned to dust. What did you like better?

He swears by the skies he’s never been more frustrated- or desperate.

Your birthday draws closer by the minute and he’s determined to be the first to give you a present, even if it means… talking to people.

✦—————————————✦

He wishes Verr Goldet would stop looking so… Astonished. He knows he should be working! He’ll get to it right after he acquires your present… which would be?

“Perhaps- perhaps perfume?” she suggests, finally regaining composure. “They mentioned being fond of perfumes, although they usually don’t quite use it. Also…” She hesitates, then shakes her head with a smile. “It is good to see you home.”

He’s startled- he can’t help being so, not when she’s giving him such a sincere smile (that he unknowingly softly returns.) Strange mortal. Thanking her, he leaps off the balcony rails, unfurling wings of teal and gold. Perfume. Not the most inspired gift, but perhaps he’d come across something at the harbour?

✦—————————————✦

He does, unfortunately, come across something at the harbour. It’s an annoying little something (endearing on the days he feels more patient), slightly tall, vaguely maniacal. In a fun way.

Hu Tao has dragged him across every stupid stall on the northern side of the harbour. They’ve seen all sorts of absurd fish (even ones he thought were long extinct, good for them- or perhaps not, since they were soon to be a meal), clothes, china, children’s toys (he’s pretty sure you’d like the fat finch carving actually, so he gets it) and… perfume?

Hu Tao beams as she gestures to the man lounging in a corner of the harbour, asleep with an arm thrown over his wares. The wares happen to be several exquisite (regrettably empty) bottles.

He blinks. “Where is the perfume?”

“Huh? You want me to get you that, too?” A fly lands on her face and she swats it away. “I don’t really know where to get one you’d like. What sort of smells do you like? Can you even smell? I thought birds couldn’t smell?”

He sighs at the cascade of questions. “Some can’t, some ca- you digress.”

“Fine, but listen- aren’t the bottles so pretty?” She reaches for one and he’s forced to admit they are. The one in her hand is fashioned to mimic a gently sloped, round rock, with qingxin flowers acting as the lid. A bit unorthodox, but charming. “You can put whatever you want inside! Plus you told me you wanted a bottle of perfume, not a bottle with perfume-“

Well.

✦—————————————✦

That’s two gifts and neither is as he wants, nor perhaps as you’d want. He thinks back to the gifts you’ve given him- so intricate, so thoughtful. The best gift is still you, though, and the time he spends with you is enough to wash away years of anguish. When you fall asleep in his arms, the tension within him comes undone. This world has never treated him well, but its one benefaction was the vision hanging at your hip. He can’t help but trace it gently with his fingers, running his hands up and down your waist, so, so lightly. He’s grateful.

He wishes he could gift you even a fraction of the joy you bring him.

A whistle snaps him out of his thoughts. Yelan lowers herself to sit next to him on the cool stone steps going down to the harbour. Where did she come from? Was that blood-

“Soup. Tomato soup.” She pops the ‘p’ as she speaks. He can smell the blood. “No worries.” He does worry. She laughs when she sees his face. “It’s not mine, relax. What brings our hermit adeptus to the harbour?”

She reaches for the bag of purchases in his hands as he explains. “I’m here to get (Name) a present.” She turns the finch around in her hands, amused, and he continues. “I’m yet to come across anything significant. Do you have any… recommendations?”

Yelan tsks and stares at the hubbub below, deliberating. Xiao glances at the luxurious fur on her jacket rustle gently in the breeze and wonders how they ever became friends. His advent into the Chasm… well, he truly did think he would die, but he instead returned with closure and absurd company.

More or less anyway- Yelan is too busy to come visit frequently, but she’ll sometimes call him for no reason. To sample some dessert she bought, or to tell him a mundane story. He suspects it’s so she can keep an eye on his health. Sometimes, in his nightmares, he sees her stricken face when he teleported her out the Chasm, when she thought he’d never return.

“What are you thinking?” She raises an eyebrow. “It had better be something productive, not daydreams of (Name).”

“Those are productive,” he counters. “But forget it… suggestions?”

“Maybe jewellery?” She stands up and dusts herself off. “It’s a little cliché, but never a fail. And probably some perfume to put into that bottle… which I will go get, because… no. Actually, you should come too.” She grins.

✦—————————————✦

He’s never talking to Yelan again. The shop she suggested had some lovely ear cuffs, shaped like wings and flowers, clouds and daggers. Pretty. He got you a few pairs, which the shopkeeper seemed delighted about. Were they expensive, by mortal standards?

He peeks into the bag and watches them glitter through the glass case. Probably.

The thought of you wearing them makes him feel a bit lightheaded. You’re always at the very zenith of loveliness, so it always astounds him to see you turn more and more beautiful by the day. The ear cuffs would accentuate your charm wonderfully. He grins at the thought, then painedly coughs, recalling Ying’er. By Morax, she made him profoundly uncomfortable, then compounded that discomfort with every passing minute. Yelan found it hilarious and he admits, only to himself, he’d find it equally amusing if it was someone else in his place.

In any case, he now has a rather large bag of presents. A fat finch, jewellery, a pretty bottle containing gentle perfume extracted from the flowers of your hometown (he’s so proud of expertly dodging Ying’er’s questions on how he got them) and-? A coffin keychain?

He sighs and keeps it.

While he has all these offerings present for the god that reigns supreme in his heart… there is no centrepiece, no special present. When he asks Yanfei and Ping, they glance at one another and gleefully suggest a wedding ring, to which he gives a forceful no. He’d never want to make you celebrate two things in one day- after all, that’s one less day of merrymaking.

✦—————————————✦

Liyue Harbour looks so pretty in the night.

You remember a friend of yours telling you something once. Liyue Harbour makes you feel melancholy on the bad days, and warm on the good. She was right.

Sometimes, you have trouble deciphering what exactly it is that you’re feeling. And sometimes, you have trouble facing your feelings altogether.

As you trod through the gates facing Mt. Tianheng, you feel a pit softly open through in your chest. Inside of you, something stays deathly still, trying to ignore it, even as soft, powdery tendrils attempt to coax you inside.

It’s two in the morning, and it is also your birthday.

The shops and stalls are nearly all closed, with only some taverns open late into the night. They’ll close soon enough too, though. If you crane your neck enough, you know you’ll catch a view of the Pearl Galley, radiant and luxurious, a warm spot on the cool waves.

Sometimes Xiao walks you home after a long day. He’ll pause on the road while you receive your commission Mora from Katheryne, and you go take a walk along the harbour, buying groceries for dinner, him sighing as you find and inhale the unhealthiest snacks you can contrive, and scoffing when you offer them to him- even though there’s no force behind it.

And sometimes you sit on the edge of the port, watching the Pearl Galley take gentle laps around the port. Amusedly trying (and failing) to take a peek inside, wondering which socialite paid the lovely maidens aboard a visit.

But there’s no Xiao here today. He hasn’t visited in a while, and it’s your birthday.

You blink rapidly, eyes stinging. It’s okay. Birthdays happen every year and you’re not a child, you’re just tired after a long day.

“And besides.” You pat a stray dog as you walk past it to your home. “It’s so late. He’ll hopefully remember and wish me tomorrow?”

She answers with a whine and a wag of her tail. You chuckle.

“Stay right here. I’ll get you something.” You blow it a kiss, your temper buoyant once more. It’s so late, you can’t expect Xiao to-

“I already fed her.”

You nearly stumble (curse those mountains, your muscles are so goddamn sore) with how fast you whirl to face him. He’s right there, in soft, loose clothes. The lights inside the house come on as he gives your baffled face the smallest, softest of smiles. “Happy birthday, (Name).”

You bark a laugh as you rush into his arms.

✦—————————————✦

You’re not sure what exactly you did for this world to give you Xiao, the most beautiful of creatures, kindest of people, gentlest of hearts. You used to think his distance and clipped sentences were an armour worn to protect his jaded heart from the world. You were heartbroken yet skeptical when Wang Ping’an told you of it being the opposite- that he cares deeply for his people and is devoted to his duty. That he has much love to give, but never could on account of his karmic debt.

You don’t know what you’d do if not for your vision.

Xiao’s firm, calloused fingers softly massage your scalp. He offered to help you wash your hair when you mentioned being too tired and sore to do it on your own, so you’re now in your bathroom seated on a stool as he does it for you. One hand reaches down gently to prevent the foam from entering your eye as you ramble on about the day you’ve had. He frowns when you tell him you got nearly killed by a treasure hoarder, then looks almost impressed when he hears you befriended the schmuck.

“And he’s not a bad guy, really.” You boop his nose gently with a wet finger and it scrunches slightly. “He just didn’t have a choice, y’know? Anyway, I told him I’d help him get a job. He’s gonna stay over until he gets back on his feet, so be nice when you see him, okay?”

Xiao blinks rapidly. His eyelashes are so pretty. “Wait- are you certain you can trust him? Tilt your head back.”

You tip your head back and explain as he rinses your hair. “He’s just a kid, really. He’s new to this treasure hoarder schtick. And it should be fine, right? I’ll keep the valuables locked and let him have the guest room. Poor kid, do you think he’ll be able to wait on people? Maybe I could convince Chef Mao?

“He has his hands full with Shenhe.” Xiao snorts. “I don’t think he can take any more. Although if you want… I could take the child to Wangshu Inn with me. Perhaps he could assist Huai’an.”

You gasp in delight and beam at him. You swear you see his pupils dilate. “You’d do that for him?”

“For you.”

✦—————————————✦

Dinner was pleasant- all you could focus was inhaling anything and everything remotely edible present on the table. You were ravenous.

Even so, you couldn’t help but notice the anticipatory looks Xiao gave you, the little taps of his clawed fingers on the table. He didn’t say a word as you finished your meal. Just looked at you gently with those luminous golden eyes.

Stamping down your excitement was difficult despite your exhaustion. There was something Xiao was keeping under wraps, you could tell- he was just a bit unravelled, just the tiniest bit. Lips parted in slight anticipation, pupils dilated like a parakeets.

You look at one another across the table and he abruptly blinks and rises up, taking the dishes with him. Putting them in the sink, he turns to you slowly. You hear the dog bark at something outside, the clatter of her claws across the pavement but it feels as though she’s on land, with you underwater. When did Xiao get so close?

Your breath leaves you as his talon tipped fingers gently cradle your face, stroke your cheek. He laces his fingers with yours and brings them to his mouth for a kiss.

“Do you wish to rest?” He asks gently. As if he didn’t just rob you of your ability to form coherent sentences. “I had some presents prepared for you, but it’ll be morning soon. You ought to rest.”

Aha. So that was what he wanted to show you. He looks so shy at the mention of gifts- long eyelashes lowered, lips pressed together that you can’t resist beaming and landing a soft kiss on his cheek. He exhales.

“I want to see them now.”

He sighs, but he’s smiling, too. “Very well.”

He gestures for you to walk on ahead to your room and you do, sprinting across the hallway, invigorated at the prospect of- what.

Your bed is laden with presents.

It looks almost like an offering table- there are flowers interspersed among the gifts- an exquisite bottle of perfume is the first to catch your eye and you excitedly hold it to your nose. It smells like your favourite flowers. You turn to beam at him and he turns away, pink eared, and gestures to the rest.

There’s a coffin keychain (huh?), a fat finch carving the size of your face (you’ll cherish and protect that thing with your life), multiple small, velvety boxes with glass covers (you nearly scream. Is that the Mingxing jewellery crest? How expensive was this?) and something covered by a soft square of fabric, right in the centre.

It’s a feast for the eyes, you giddily think, taking everything in. You’ll definitely need to have a talk with Xiao about the expense- good lord, that ear cuff is embedded with three different jewels- but for now, you heart is so full you feel it’ll burst at the seems. And as you lift up the cloth to uncover what’s beneath, you’re very certain you’ll weep if you’re not too careful.

It's a box, made perhaps of wood, standing on elegant coral legs. With gems or resin or more coral, you can’t tell- there's a picture composed upon it, with you clinging to the side of a mountain before it, and Xiao right behind, holding out his fingers to receive what you hand to him. There’s the sunset too, behind both of you- a gorgeous mess of pink, white and scarlet, gold rays streaking across it, from the setting sun into the lavender dusk beyond.

It’s a bit roughly hewn, but it’s beautiful, and it’s yours.

It’s the day you really talked to one another for the first time, the start of something so precious to you that even the mere thought of losing it makes your heart physically ache.

You really are going to cry.

Turning to Xiao, you see the soft, anxious look in his eyes as he tries to gauge your reaction. He parts his lips to say something, but stops to let you go first. You shake your head and ask him to speak.

“I… am aware of it not being the best of presents.” (You wonder if he smacked his head into something today.) “It is… a box.” He coughs, glancing away, then faces you again and now you truly are in danger of bawling, with the way he’s looking at you. You bite your tongue and blink rapidly. Xiao gives you a rueful smile as he continues.

“I thought for a long time, but couldn’t fathom what you’d want most. I did not know what would constitute as a good present- but I remembered… when we first talked for length. Your unpaid commission. I’m grateful to Baizhu, for falling ill… I could never have dreamed myself capable of feeling such joy. Because of you.

“I just…” he trails off, eyes widening as the tears slip past your lashes, down your cheeks (traitors, they’re making such a fuss). He’s before you in an instant, cupping your face, drawing you closer, forehead pressed to yours. “I wanted to give you something to put your treasures in, where they could be safe. And I wanted to remind you… I will appear, no matter the circumstances, the moment you call for me.”

Your chest hurts.

“And,” he whispers, “if your burdens grow too heavy, simply turn around. Place them in my hands. I will carry them until you can once more. Just as you have done for me.”

And all you can do, really, is tell him you love him, clinging to his shoulders, wrapping him in a giant embrace. He jumps, then laugh, large wings and slender arms wrapping around you.

It’s morning by the time you finally fall asleep, presents on one side of your bed and you on the other, after listening to Xiao recount his day at the harbour. You snicker at his conversation with the Boss, laugh when you hear of Hu Tao’s shenanigans, cackle hysterically when he shakes his head in embarrassment and tells you of his time spent with Ying’er and Yelan.

But when he tells you of his conversation with Ping and Yanfei, eyes softening, wings tightening around you- of the time he spent bringing the box into being, with their help and his very own hands- you can’t help but get teary eyed once more. Wrapping your fingers around his, you bring them to your mouth to kiss every fingertip, each kiss interspersed with a whispered “I love you,” that he returns with a quiet, fervent murmur of his own.

As you both begin to doze off in one another’s arms, you hear finches in the distance, awakening before even the dawn. You trace your fingers over his face, gently, gently and kiss his cheek.

You wish you could articulate what he means to you- and what his efforts meant to you.

His presents were nothing in the face of his company, and his company nothing in the face of his happiness.

More than anything, your heart is full at the thought of Xiao- free of his duties for even just a day, meeting with friends to contrive a present for you. That he spent time with them, amused himself with their shenanigans, fell prey to their mischief. That he had a mundane day at the harbour.

By Morax, you love him. Perhaps next week you’ll clear out your schedule, and ask him to take you with him on another.

[endereies]

YOU'RE MY PRIZE - MS

No Nut November - Day 17

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ Matt brings you to the carnival and wins just for you

When Matt said he had a surprise for you, you weren’t expecting to get out the vehicle at the main entrance of a famous carnival. 

It was only set up a few times a year, and with the queues, it wasn’t always an ideal situation. Ever since moving in with Matt, you’ve blabbed every time it sets up a new spot. After all, it was famous. The rides they hosted weren’t your average roller coasters and took several days to set up. Of course it had the classic helter-skelter and teacups. It was only when you looked deeper you saw the abundance of attractions. Set up haunted houses that genuinely left people horrified, stalls that seemed from creative aspect, and of course the Ferris wheel that was littered in light.  

“You’re kidding?!” The child like part of you rushed out as you jumped up and down, grabbing Matt’s tatted arm like a vice. 

“Figured it seemed like a perfect time” He wasn’t wrong about that, your anniversary had just past and he grabbed tickets off the website. You knew something was planned when you read through his card but he didn’t let up. His lips were sealed over the past week or so as you begged him for answers. Now that you had them and it was beaming in front of you, how could you ever complain. 

Once the roads were all clear, his hand was dragged by yours to the grand entrance. After all this time of you dreaming, it was stood before you. 

Matt handed over his phone to the manager and she handed it back, along with two tickets. You’d scanned everyone else’s ticket before yours and they seemed to be a lime scale sort of green. Yet yours were a deep purple. Your boyfriend thanked the manager before laughing at your confused face. “Read it, baby...”  

So, you did. The bold letters ‘VIP’ covered the back of the ticket in a gold colour. “What!” 

“If I am treating m’girl tonight, I’m doing it right. After all you deserve it”  

You both stopped walking as you practically tackled his side. Both of your hands gripped his body tightly, shoving your head into his shoulder “Thank you!” 

“You can thank me after, how about we enjoy ourselves.” 

Most of the evening was a collective of rides a day stalls. With the upgraded tickets that Matt got, most of the queues were cut short. But after a long while of the intense rides, the pair of you decided to sit down on a bench and eat some food. You both got burgers which you could see the steam come from as your order was handed to you. The homemade milkshake relaxed the bouts of energy inside. It was a comfortable silence you were in, one that left the sounds of the crowd, chewing and slurping in its wake. Your eyes started to scan the many stalls you had yet to venture down.  

Those games always seemed a scam and yet the child like spirit inside invited you so willingly. Matt giggled when he saw you eye up a certain stall. It was a line up of wooden clown slabs which had a bunch of cricket balls a few metres away. They seemed heavy in the way they shook but your eyes traced all the designs of them. 

“Want to go over?” Your shock from his voice made him giggle before repeating himself so you heard. “baby, do you want to do that one?”  

You knew he saw you gawk at it so there was no point in hiding your excitement. “Absolutely!” 

The burgers were quickly finished and discarded before you walked straight towards the  red stall, the stripes on the outside calling you. 

“Hey you two, think you can handle this?” The host gestured animatedly towards the rows of clowns. A smirk crossed your face as you instantly grabbed a note from your wallet and handed it to him. Matt finally met your side after you rushed ahead, watching a group of balls land just by your stomach. It was a lot more than the number of clowns and as soon as a timer started you knew why. 

After picking up the first ball, you swung your arm to throw at the centre of a clown’s face. The wood wobbled before clattering backwards. With spawned courage another ball quickly followed a larger clown and yet it barely moved.  

Sure you weren’t strong but even kids played this game, you couldn’t be that bad, right? By the time the buzzer for the timer rang, only four got pushed over. You hadn’t meant to sulk but your expression was clear. It was towards an obvious plushie you must’ve noticed, it was a cute otter stuffed animal that was curled up around its tail. 

“Let me have a go.” Matt’s voice was stern as he slammed a note on the wood next to the abandoned ball bucket. Your body turns back and the bag of balls gets replaced while the machine holds up the four clowns you knocked over previously. 

While they do so, you remain quiet so Matt can focus. His hand rises as he tosses the ball up and down in his palm, gathering its weight. Once the signal was given he leant back and pelted the ball, hammering down the clown you first attempted. It fell with such ease. 

Years of lacrosse and hockey built his strength and precision, he wasn’t going to disappoint. Ball after ball, each clown was clattering as they fell, rebounding slightly on the floor. He only stumbled on a few as when that buzzer rang, the last one bounced and sounded on the concrete. He tossed a spare ball into the bucket and handed it back to the host who was a little shocked at the intense strong skill he had. 

“Well..sir, which shall be your prize.” He smirked at you before he spoke. “That bottom otter please.” 

The host jumped slightly to grab the large otter off its hook and handed it to Matt. “Here. Congratulations!” They smiled at each other before setting up a game for another child. 

“Here baby, think this belongs to you.” Your face lit up as he pushed it towards you. “I saw you eyeing it up after you played. 

“Matt...you didn’t have to, this is so sweet” As much as you tried to hide it, you were so giddy to finally hold its softness against your chest. It was the perfect material and softness, it only made you thank Matt harder. 

“I love you Matt, thank you...” His hand came up to your chin, tilting your head towards him. 

“I love you more baby, besides, you’re my prize.” 

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerrss @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa2s @emilyfaith2003 @jassturn @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone @ribread03 @slutf4rmatt @spaghetti835928383 @flouvela

© ENDEREIES 2024

[mqriuss]

spiderman!rindou x reader

note: i imagined spiderman rindou would have a black suit with hints of purple so i described it as such here

rindou was fighting a bunch of random delinquents when he got bit by the radioactive spider, ran wasn't around so he was lowkey struggling on his own. the spider had descended onto his neck and tried to bite him, but he gets thrown by the gang's leader and the spider flies off of him. it crawled back to rindou while he's being punched into the ground—it got sent flying off again when rindou flipped him and his opponent over. some god out there was starting to question if spider-rindou is truly the fate of this universe.

rindou was locking his opponent's joints when he finally got bit. he felt a sting on his hand, and retracted it out of instinct. well, he tried to. he tried and he failed, his hand was stuck holding the guy's wrist.

"the hell are you doing?!"

"i don't have a clue either, dammit!"

the rest of the guys watched as rindou squirmed around weirdly with their leader. at some point, rindou successfully tore himself off of the guy but a different guy approached him, finding the chance to beat him up. rindou had noticed and he tried using his hand to shove him in the face, but it gets stuck... again.

the fight ended with the other delinquents trying to pull rindou off of everyone. they were no longer fighting and they all just wanted to get out of this sticky situation (pun very much intended).

rindou walked back home, stressed. his head was spinning and he stumbled into a wall to hold himself up for balance. he vividly remembered an old lady coming up to him, asking if he was alright. he had told her he was fine, and he realized he was stuck again when his hands wouldn't come off the wall. he's trying so hard to play it cool and shoo her away so she doesn't notice, but he found himself feeling oddly relaxed by the old lady's genuine concern. it was only then his hands came peeling off the wall.

he accidentally broke the bathroom door when he got home and ran was pissed but let's not talk about that.

rindou learned to live with his new abilities for a while. he tested his limits, standing on his ceiling, shooting webs, jumping from building to building, and lifting heavier weights. he first found out he could shoot webs when he tried (gently) waking ran up for lunch, only to be met with a pillow thrown at him. but when he instinctively tried to catch it, webs came out, pushing the pillow back against a wall. his face at the time was priceless, eyes wider than tennis balls, jaw on the floor as he slowly glances over at ran to make sure he's asleep before rushing over to remove the webs.

when he found out about the web shooting, he started getting a little concerned. so he walked back to the spot where the fight occured whilst trying to remember anything weird that happened. he finally put two and two together when he saw a dead spider lying near a trash can.

at times, he took advantage of this new strength and he had gotten better at controlling his powers. he was a lot stronger in fights now and he can take on way more people on his own, ran doesn't get a chance to lift a finger. rindou's senses are immaculate now, and no one could ever sneak up from behind him anymore.

rindou was sick when he became a hero. like, literally he was sick. his throat was sore, his nose was stuffed, and his voice was goners. he was walking to class with a hoodie over his head and a mask covering only the bottom half of his face, so you could clearly see the moment his eyes widened when he sensed danger around the corner.

he saw a little boy getting grabbed by some monster villain who would later become his nemesis, and he didn't have time to think at that moment. his body moved on its own when he saved the boy. another boy—who looked a bit older—came running up to them, "thank you for saving my brother, nii-san!"

'brother...' the kid's words echoed in his head for a moment. and wow, that monster is getting way too close to his apartment building.

fuck.

rindou found himself fighting said monster for a while until it got away and he was panting by the end of it, covered in bruises you wouldn't normally see on him after an ordinary fight. he went home that day, treating his own wounds quietly so he wouldn't wake up ran.

the next day, rindou pushes himself to come to class. he thought if he had to take the day off, it would seem suspicious. but he doesn't regret coming to class at all. how could he when he sees you, his campus crush, walking up to him?

"hey, the professor assigned a project to work in pairs," you said, but he was barely paying any attention, everything about you was so distracting. you're quite literally the reason why he's not paying attention in class. "i didn't get a partner so that left me with you."

rindou feels like he's on cloud 9—he finally has an excuse to give you his number, his address, and–

"hello? you good?"

you snapped him back to reality and he cleared his throat (his voice was still raspy and cracked when he tried to answer). "uhuh, group project. i– i heard you."

"are you okay? were you on sick leave yesterday?" you asked, noticing his voice was on the verge of abandoning him.

"yeah," his voice cracked again, much to his dismay—but seeing you smile and hearing a little laugh escape your lips made it worth it. he cleared his throat, scratching his neck. "i'm fine now though, really."

rindou turned out to be very easy to communicate with and you discussed the project for a good two days. "why only two days?" you may be wondering. well, you don't know either. but you were being ghosted, that's for sure.

you gave him time to respond to your texts for another two days, but the deadline was approaching. you had no choice but to make more progress on your own. at some point, rindou finally responded and he managed to get some work done, but in the end, you did most of it. naturally, you'd want to know why, but he never gave you any solid excuses. "sorry, i've been busy," or "i don't think i can meet up today, something came up," he'd say every. single. time. you even tried asking one of his friends in class if he knew what he was up to, but he was none the wiser. you didn't miss the way he whispered to one of his friends, something along the lines of, "he's about to fumble so bad" as you walked out.

also, there's this 'spider-man' case you keep hearing about on the news whenever your dad turns on the tv. weird.

but anyway, time passes and it was finally the day of the presentation. rindou never showed up. so you presented it yourself, and you decided that you've had enough.

the door to his bedroom window opens slowly, a leg pokes in first as he squeezes through the small entrance.

"fucking finally," rindou mutters under his breath, wincing as he tugs the black mask off his head—the deep purple web lines glow faintly in his dimmed room. he carefully pulls down the top half of his suit, quiet groans escape and his face contorts as the material pulls away from his wounds.

"yeah. fucking finally, huh?"

rindou freezes, and the lights of his bedroom switch on.

"AAH—!" you both yell in unison, but for completely different reasons.

rindou's reason is obvious enough. "what the hell are you doing in my room?!" he exclaims with his arms out.

and you? you barged in and made yourself at home here, so why were you shocked? for one, he didn't have a shirt on and he was so close to exposing his bare nether regions to you, but the wounds across his torso were horrifying. you were even more concerned about the latter now.

"spider-man, huh?" you remark as you helped treat his wounds. "so this is why you left me to do the presentation myself."

rindou's eyes widen. "fuck, i'm sorry—i completely forgot," he apologizes immediately, but is cut off by the sting of alcohol on his wounds. you let out a chuckle, shaking your head. you couldn't stay upset with him, especially knowing you would've probably died with other innocent civilians had he not done anything.

"who else knows?"

he hears you loud and clear, but he spaces out for a moment—liking the way your fingertips felt on his skin as you smoothen out the edges of the bandage on his shoulder. "just you," he said, his voice still raspy. "don't tell anyone. please."

"i'll be your close confidant." you smile, giving his shoulder a light pat. "wait here," you say before leaving his room.

you'd come back later with tea and medicine that you bought real quick from the convenience store, "for your throat."

"i wanna go again!"

"geez, you can stop screaming now—we're on the ground already."

ever since finding out rindou is spider-man, you'd always ask to go for a ride. not a bike ride, nope. you meant web-swinging around tokyo. you don't really ask anymore though, you sort of demand it. who needs to go to an amusement park when your friend can shoot webs and swing from building to building?

sometimes rindou is a little reluctant... for safety reasons. one time, as he held you in one arm, web-shooting and swinging with the other, you nearly crashed into a train. it felt like he was holding a dolphin instead with the way you were screaming. but he ends up indulging in your requests because it means he gets to feel you close as you hold on for dear life.

you've been trusting him a little too much though, and he gets a heart attack every single time. for god's sake, stop trying to balance yourself on the edge of the rooftop! and don't loosen your grip around him when he takes you out for a swing, what if he drops you?

he'd never drop you. you're so sure of it, but rindou still wonders why you have that much faith in him.

what you don't have is faith in him to ever show up early.

you're waiting on your balcony late at night, annoyed because he was supposed to come see you at 8pm. it's 10pm now.

rindou comes swinging in, standing on the railing beside you with a jacket he had hastily slipped on over his spider suit. you immediately start scolding him as he puts on the rest of his clothes.

"you're late again, haitani. do you even remember what time we agreed on?"

he still had his mask on, but you can sense a cheeky grin hidden beneath it—as if you had some sixth sense of your own. "sorry, i've been busy saving the city." he responds, his tone cocky.

"oh, classic excuse. you're always pulling the spider-man card on me!" you roll your eyes, crossing your arms. he leaps and lands on the railing in front of you, taking his mask off.

"it's not easy, y'know? i was really on my way here before eight, and then i got distracted by a side quest," rindou quips. "it had way more dialogue to go through than i was expecting, and there was no skip button either." he couldn't help chuckling at his own joke, and you continued your bickering while he paces back and forth on the railings. but eventually, rindou realizes you're not actually that mad at him—you're just worried.

rindou softens and sits down in front of you. the way he perches over the narrow railing, the flesh of his butt spilling slightly over the edge like he's about to fall—if not for his special abilities keeping him stuck to it.

"look, i'm sorry. i really am."

rindou looks a bit different today, and you're trying to figure out why. maybe he doesn't look as stoic or otherwise cocky as he usually does. but just as the thought crosses your mind, he pulls his mask back on for some reason.

"i never thought someone like me would gain such a huge responsibility one day. it was so... sudden." rindou? venting? this was new even to you. "i just thought i'd be stronger ever since that day, win more fights on my own. but now i just get this itch to save everyone no matter how boring or tiring the fight is. and you–" he pauses, his gaze lingering on you for a second. "you're the only one who knows, the only one i can be real with about this whole double life thing. i can't lose that—i can't lose you."

"and you won't." you respond quickly, grabbing his hand. "i know it probably feels like you're carrying this all by yourself, but you've got me, okay? i promise i'll always be here." you reassure him and rindou is sure his heartbeat is a lot louder than it normally is.

rindou could stare at you all day. whether he was in the middle of class, or right now, when you're standing in front of him with the same eyes he loves to get lost in—except this time, they look a lot softer. the earlier tension melts away and he almost misses the way your hand moved to push his mask off. when he notices what you were doing, his body reacted on its own. you flinch when he disappears from your peripheral vision, but you can hear a slight thud from above you.

"hey, what are you doing up there?" you call out to him, leaning over the balcony railing as you search for him on your rooftop. "don't tell me you're getting all flustered on me now!" you tease him but jolt away from the railing when he appears in front of you again, dangling upside down from a web.

"flustered? me?" rindou snickers and he laughs—the kind you would let out when you're mocking someone, but it turns sheepish really quickly before it dies down. he tugs his mask off, just enough to reveal the bottom half of his face (would it be the top half now since he's upside down?). "i guess you're the only one who has that effect on me."

you raise an eyebrow, pretending to mull over his words. "the only one, huh?" you lean closer, resting your hands against the railing just inches away from his face. "sounds like a lot of power to give to someone."

he shrugs—or does the upside-down equivalent of it. "yeah well, with great power comes great responsibility, so... don't screw it up," he says and the spider eye on his mask winks at you, prompting you to chuckle and roll your eyes.

"alright," your hand moves up to rest on his cheek, caressing softly with your thumb. "i won't screw it up," you whisper before finally closing the gap, pressing your lips against his.

rindou would eventually find out about the spider society and canon events, and he'd immediately think of you.

he sees the future through the experiences of other spider-people, and his heart stops. what do you mean he could lose his only family? and the love of his life?

rindou was already hesitant to tell ran, but he probably had his suspicions already. and he knows how much more worried ran would be when he finds out. you were the one person he could confide in about such things. but for once, he's afraid to share something with you, the one thing that could change everything.

could he really try to save you and his brother, and put other universes at risk? it's a question that's been plaguing his mind, it gnaws at him. what if he wasn't bitten by that spider? what if he never became spider-man? would you still find your way to him? would the webs of fate be kind enough to keep you by his side even if someone else in his universe became spider-man?

rindou finds himself standing on the wall next to your window in the middle of the night, like a child running to his parent's room after a nightmare. he slips inside quietly, but makes his presence known.

you were lying in bed, not asleep yet. you glance over and see him all suited up. scooting over, you make some space on your bed for him, "you just gonna stand there?"

rindou exhales a quiet sigh of relief upon hearing your voice, but his heart aches at the same time. wordlessly, he yanks his mask off and crashes on top of your figure on the bed. for a moment, you're taken aback, it's not like you've never cuddled before, but he was making you uneasy today. the way he buries his face into your neck—his lips pressing gently against your skin, his arms engulf you in his embrace entirely, and the kicker? you feel something wet on your neck.

"hey–" you try to pull away slightly, but his grip tightens, keeping you in place. "rin, is everything okay? did something happen?"

rindou doesn't need to lift his head from your neck to see your furrowed eyebrows and widened eyes, he could sense it. he'd be lying if he said he didn't like that worried look on your face—he loves knowing that you care, but he liked it better when you're smiling. right now though? it doesn't matter what expression you wear. you could be angry with him for no good reason and he'd still be happy to see you. because it has to be you. it's always you.

"i'll try harder to show up on time for our dates," he murmurs, his voice shaky and muffled against your skin. "we'll do whatever you wanna do, just don't leave me. i'll always protect you, i promise." his words puzzle you, but you sense that you shouldn't press him, at least not now.

"i know," you whisper, wrapping your arms around him. "i'm not going anywhere, rindou."

his hold around you tightens, pulling you impossibly closer. you could almost suffocate from how hot it was getting, but you couldn't care less. tomorrow isn't promised. so you hold him too, you hold him tight.

the more i read it the more i cringe so im gonna post it before i change my mind 😂😂 also i was not expecting the slight angst near the end LMAO

[ghostmoon1]

- Part One - Part Two - Part Three -

Price x Nikolai - Omegaverse - 1.8k words

CW : A/B/O, heat cycle mentions, suppressants (mentioned as pills), smoking, eventual smut, 18+

A/N: Hello guys :3 I decided to write this lil fic, it'll only be three parts. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged for the next two! There will be smut in the last part, so I'm flagging the whole fic as 18+. There's gonna be things I get wrong, but we're here for the gay men...

“Sir, I can not give you any more of those,”

The nurse's voice was sincere, and her apology for the situation was written all over her face, but that didn’t stop the anger from building in John’s chest. His heart felt like it was being gripped in a vice, those suppressants were his lifeline for this career that he had worked so hard for. Something he wouldn’t have if it weren’t for those suppressants. The higher-ups would have never let him stay if he had been through any heats during his missions. They would ruin everything, his scent would set off even the most controlled alphas in the base.

“You don’t understand- I need these. If I don’t have them, everything is fucked!” he growls, his scent blockers struggling to fight the horrific smell of ozone wafting off him. His hands were clenched into fists, struggling to contain his anger. But under the burning anger, there was something else he wouldn’t ever admit. 

Fear.

“Captain Price, you have been using these same suppressants for three years- the recommended time is only for two, you are going on four now. You must go through at least one heat, or the consequences can be horrible.”

He groans at the nurse's voice. He knew she was right, using suppressants for too long can go bad. The side effects of using them for too long can be horrible, including completely fucking up one's heat cycle, which in the long run leads to medical problems. He couldn’t afford those sorts of problems while captain of the task force, but he couldn’t afford to go into heat either. As soon as the higher-ups get the smallest whiff of his scent, he’d get demoted, or worse, kicked out completely. 

“Please, there’s got to be something. Anything-” A lump of fear and worry gets caught in his throat, making him unable to continue. 

The nurse’s expression softens, full of empathy. But empathy won’t help him in a situation like this. Nothing but those suppressants would help him. The nurse lets out a soft sigh, reaching for a clipboard on her desk. “The best thing I can offer you, sir, is natural medicines to help you get through your heat. If you don’t have a mate to help you get through it, without these medicines, the experience will be… very unpleasant.”

��Fuck… fine,” he mutters reluctantly, unpleased by the whole situation. He leans against the busted wooden desk as she files through the cabinets, grabbing a few small jars filled with herbs and other wonders of Mother Nature. She places some of the different herbs into some containers, humming as she maneuvers around with practised ease.

“Alright. This one’s here,” she murmurs, holding up the first container filled with small yellow flower buds of some sort. “These, you can make a tea out of. They will help with your symptoms before you go into heat. I recommend taking them a week before it starts. And now these, you can crush into a paste and put it with water or food, to help ease the symptoms during your heat. They are much stronger, only twice a day, no more,” she continues to explain, lifting up the other container which contained a bunch of dried, purple leaves. 

Price nods, only half listening and grumbling under his breath as he takes the containers and stuffs them into his coat pockets for no one to see. Natural substances were well known, especially between the alpha’s of the base, their ruts were easier to fend off compared to an omega’s heat. And their medications and suppressants were far less dangerous than the ones an omega has to take to control their heat. But these ones… if anyone was to see him with them, they’d know in an instant what he really is.

The nurse gives him her warm goodbye, in which he replies with as much fake politeness he can muster. The containers in his jacket felt like weights, weighing him down from which he could wish he was. Anything but an omega. A beta would be better even, at least they were allowed to join the army. They didn’t have what he did, they didn’t suffer through unbearable heats. Simon was the only alpha in his team, while Johnny and Kyle were betas. Just the thought of his own team being higher up than him in society as a whole, and their own biologies, made him bristle and want to hide away. He never could, never would. He had a job, to serve as the almighty captain of the Task Force 141. The only thing was, he wasn’t as almighty. His own biology betrayed him.

The trudge back to the barracks was horrible, the weight of his own identity weighing heavily on him. He didn’t feel like he was who he was supposed to be, an omega couldn’t be one of the best captains. But here he was. It all felt like a lie.

The whole barracks reeked of alpha, a scent so in your face it would normally make any omega drop to their knees in submission. He had learnt to control his instincts, one of the few reasons he was so good at what he did. It was normally the polite thing to do, wearing scent blockers in a place like this, but many didn’t. Too absorbed in their own world. Reasons why the betas often retreated to their rooms, or just a place away from the onslaught of alphas to get away from an alphas scent. It overwhelmed them, but it was nothing compared to what it can do to an omega.

His boots echoed through the hall, the walls plain and sterile, no light, no fun. War was never a place for fun. The plaster was peeling and had cracks all through it, it had been like that ever since he got here. Outside the halls, the sound of soldiers training and yelling at each other echoed through the barracks, what little fun they could make in a life like this. 

As he reached his room, the door was an unwelcoming sight as was the rest of it. The memories of sitting up late at the crappy desk, filling out paperwork. Sleepless nights, tossing and turning in his cot, staring up at the roof, eyes tracing each crack and blister in the plaster. Nights of falling asleep at his desk and waking up with a sore back and his once pristine paperwork scrunched up and over the floor—early hours of the morning, going through the same routine that he has grown accustomed to. Days of training and briefings are always the same. He was thankful for his boys, always throwing some colour into his dull days, even if it was listening to their snappy comebacks to each other or Simon’s dark jokes. At least there was always one thing to look forward to.

He yanked the containers out of his pockets, throwing them onto his desk to join the pile of papers and pens. He places his calloused palms against the rough wood, splintered and cracked over years of use and leans against his, eyes trailing over what his life has come to. Rubbing his hand over his face, he curses softly under his breath. This was not what he needed.

He kneels down next to his cot, checking underneath and scavenging through the pile of used suppressant bottles. He grabbed them by the handful, throwing the empty bottles onto the mattress, hoping to hear just one rattle of a pill inside one of the containers. Something that he can take, fend off the inevitable. He knew he couldn’t avoid it now. If he tried to reach out to anything else, anyone he’d be done for. Not even Laswell or Nikolai could help him now. He didn’t want them to know. Only the people that needed to know knew about this. Those who didn’t, would preferably never find out. He groans as he finds nothing, slamming a fist onto his desk, the pain dumbed by his desperation and pure panic. What was he going to do? He can’t do this. Not like this.

His emotions were becoming a haze, pulling him down as he struggled with what this all meant for him. This job was everything he had, he’d be nothing without it. He couldn’t imagine his team without him.

He couldn’t imagine himself without his team.

The thoughts pained him, crashing onto him until his legs felt weak, short panicked breathing, gasping for air. He felt like he was choking on his own fear and panic, knees buckling and giving out as he grasped the mattress, knuckles going white and a clatter of pill bottles against the floor. Hot ears flowed down his cheeks, getting lost in his beard. His eyes were stinging, the pain making him rub his eyes violently until he was seeing an array of colours. He couldn't do this. He can’t. He won’t.

The tears continued to fall, the flood had started and he couldn't stop it. He lets out a pained yell, slamming his fists into the desk again as he forces himself onto shakey legs to get to the window, pushing it open in desperate movements. The air felt cold and bitter, something else to choke him more and remind him of his situation. He felt embarrassed of himself, crying like some sort of pup over something like this. He was a captain. He was the captain of Task Force 141. He didn’t act like this.

He runs his hand over his face, trying to get rid of the tears. He reaches for his pack of cigars, lighting it and bringing it to his lips, letting the smoky haze fill his lungs, watching as he breaths out a plume of smoke and disappears into the sky, blending in with the dark clouds rolling in.

As he takes another drag of the cigar, a soft knock on his door drags his attention away. He didn’t want to deal with anyone right now. He didnt want anyone to see him like this. Clearing his throat, he replies, “Who is it?”

“It’s me, cap.” Kyle’s voice echoes into his room, a somewhat soothing thing to here right now.

“What is it, Kyle?”

“You told us yesterday, you’d run some drills at 1000… you’re bout’ half an hour late cap.”

He curses under his breath, putting out his cigar and placing it on the ashtray. “Yeah, yeah. Got caught up in paperwork. I’ll be out in a moment.” He grabs his gear, replacing his jacket with a tactical vest. He just needed to get through this, and everything will be okay. He’ll figure this out.

He needs to. 

[luveline]

A roan drabble where she asks to sleep with reader and Eddie even though she’s been sleeping in her own bed for months now ❤️

I hope it's still okay! dad!eddie x sort of step mom!reader ♡ 3.5k

Eddie watches his daughter out of the corner of his eye. She's sitting in the armchair next to your vanity like a tiny queen, head back in your pillow from the bed and wrapped up warm in thick fleece pyjamas. Half her clothes or more are pyjamas at this point.

You're standing at the top of the bed shaking out a new fitted sheet. It's a purple so light it's almost white, and you'd got it today for next to nothing. You keep the bedsheets, the whole room even, pretty neutral, worried he won't like your more feminine covers, but when you'd seen the bedspread set today at the store Eddie couldn't care less how girly it was, he wanted you to have it just to see you smile when you're lying in it. 

"Take a corner, handsome," you prompt, not irritated, exactly, but eager to be done. 

Eddie grabs the bottom corners and you take the top ones, the two of you working to tuck it over the mattress without one or the other pinging off. 

Roan slides off of the chair and runs to Eddie's side to help. 

"Thanks, babe." He gives her hair a stroke. 

"Take the corner, dad!" 

Eddie zips his mouth shut and does as he's told. Together, the three of you make the bed, and when the sheets are taut and almost too pristine he grabs Roan up in his arms, impossibly heavy but still easy enough to carry, and throws her into the middle of the bed. Raucous giggles erupt from her, the kind that are instantly infectious, practically sticky with joy. Kids love when you throw them at things. 

"Again!" she demands, standing up with her arms held high. 

Eddie waves with both hands for her to run into his arms. He picks her up, spins her around, and throws her aggressively into the cushion of your fancy mattress. She actually bounces, screaming with joy at the ricochet of her body. 

You watch in horror. 

"What?" Eddie laughs. "She's fine!" 

"I can't believe she enjoys that." 

"Why? Come here."

"No." You stand very still. Eddie takes a small step toward you. "Eddie, no. Stay away from me." 

"I won't pick you up," he says, maybe lying, maybe not.

You step back. You're in an old sleep shirt but a new pair of pyjama trousers. He insisted on them to lengthen the luxuriousness of your new sheets, and you look so pretty that he almost feels bad when he grabs you, pushing you back into the bed next to Roan, his girl still giggling lazily. When you shriek, she laughs all over again. 

"Roan," you beg, trying not to laugh, "Ro, please, baby, don't let him push me around." 

"It's fun," she tells you. 

"Because you're little! I'm big, I'm not as floppy as you are, I'm full of old bones, princess, please." 

You stare at her pleadingly. Roan, still laughing, the tiny white flash of her baby teeth peeking out as she smiles huge, takes pity on you despite how much fun she's having and climbs on top of your chest, her arms wrapping around your head protectively. 

"Stay away, dad," she warns. 

You're smothered by her neck pressed to your mouth and nose. You turn your face to suck in a breath, brushing the lengthening curtain of her dark hair from your face so you can keep an eye on your awful boyfriend. He has his arms crossed.

He reminds you of the very first time you'd met him. He'd been carrying Roan back to a car, one arm full of her, the other clutching a paper bag that wasn't meant to be. Roan had been so small, so much younger, and she hadn't been speaking very much but she had been screaming, wailing at the top of her lungs. She'd hit herself in the eye, you remember, watching from afar with a sad frown. Eddie looked depressed, worried for her and agitated as parents tend to be, and Roan had been overwhelmed. You'd seen them a bunch of times before at that very same store — you'd meant to go up to him more than once and ask for his number. Not because you're especially brave, or because he seemed even slightly interested, but because he was maddeningly attractive. In a less hectic instance, he'd been dressed in Sunday best and Roan had been wearing the same, you still remember the cornflower blue dress and matching shiny shoes, and his sweetness had marked the beginning of something big. The beginning of all of this. 

Flowers? Roan had said, her voice young, clumsy.

What about flowers, sweetheart? Eddie asked. 

Flowers… 

Eddie leaned against the handlebars of the shopping cart she was sitting in, his face close to hers, and said super gently, Do you wanna go look at the flowers? 

Roan nodded hurriedly, like she was worried Eddie might change his mind, and Eddie, your love, had put down the pasta jars he'd been looking between to push her back to the front of the store with all of the bouquets. He'd walked past you, and as he did, he said to Ro, I'm not getting you two bouquets again. One is enough, bubby. You understand?

That image of him buying his daughter two different bouquets because she asked for them, that's what got you most. You know, besides his pretty face. 

"What are you thinking about?" Roan whispers. 

"How did you know I was thinking?" 

"You look like you need to burp." 

"Oh, my god," Eddie says, feigned sternness faded and replaced with a sheepish delight. "Roan, I hope you don't say burp in school." 

"No, dad, I don't say burped." Eddie nods. "I just burp." 

Eddie covers his face with his hands and pretends to be in agonising pain. It should be a horrific watch, but his melodrama pays off and Roan laughs so much she forgets she's hiding you from her dad, jumping off of the bed to crowd his legs. 

"She has no manners," he whines. 

"She's just a baby," you deny. "Babies don't have manners." 

"She is not a baby! She's my baby, but she's old enough to not burp in front of people," he cries, looking down at her with wide eyes. "They're gonna say I dragged you up." 

"I like when you drag me up," she says firmly. 

Eddie leans down to put his hands under her armpits and drags her up the length of his chest obligingly, positioning her on the curve of his hip. She helps brush the hair out of his eyes, and he closes them, tilting his head back, pale face to the bedroom light. 

"Thanks," he murmurs. 

"Yeah. You're very handsome, daddy." 

Roan is one of those kids who absolutely reflects what she's given, as the majority of them tend to be. You pour love in, love comes right back out. 

When she was younger and she could talk but didn't very often, and you'd been bright shiny new in their lives, the total object of Roan's affection, you'd been crying about something you don't remember now and Roan had climbed into your lap and said, "It's okay, sweetheart." It showed not only how beautifully sensitive she was and would continue to be, but how patient Eddie is with her. How loving. He's comforted her through innumerable mood swings, tantrums, inexplicable showings off, so gently and so often that his loving placating seeped into her, and when she'd seen you upset, she didn't hesitate. She's a total sponge. 

It's invaluable, and it also means she hears Eddie say crass words or hears him flat out burp without apology and does the same. What's the opposite of a silver lining? 

Eddie squints at her, her compliment warming his heart no doubt. "Thank you, Ro. You're very handsome too. You're beautiful, capital B." 

"Thank you," she says distractedly, more focused on brushing his hair with her fingers than the conversation. 

You yawn and stretch before standing to finish making the bed. Eddie and Roan fall into conversation, murmurings about hair and hair brushes, coconut milk conditioner and no tears shampoo. They move onto midnight snack options as you shake out the quilt, in their own world. You don't mind making the bed up by yourself. You might if it were solely up to you, but it's Eddie who usually does it, and besides, you don't often weigh up who does what. Eddie's good at keeping it equal. Actually, he's awful at keeping it equal, but the brunt of it never falls to you. His lingering worry about burdening you with things has been a past point of contention, though those conversations are nearly always built around love at the core. You want to do more, you always have, and these days Eddie lets you. 

Like taking care of Roan. Things progressed naturally. Eddie's always been the primary caregiver and he likely always will be, you'd never resent or refuse that, though again, you love Ro so much you'd do just about anything for her. You love Eddie the same way. So when they moved into your home —'your' as a collective, the three of you plus Lucky the fish— things did change. You started doing more for both of them. And that's how you want it to be. 

You change the covers while they have their little lovefest, Eddie leaning against the dresser and Roan leaning against him. You can't be jealous. He watches you beeline for the living room every day after work; you get home and you and Roan are thereafter engaged in a cuddle session. A tradition that started with quick hugs or cheek kisses with permission and slowly morphed as you became closer into endless affection while he makes dinner. He never complains more than the occasional unserious whine. You guys don't love me as the puppy dog eyes go wild. 

You're setting the pillows back on the bed in new cases when Eddie pulls himself out of their playful teasing. "Thank you, babe." 

"Of course. How does it look? Good?" you ask, straightening the comforter. 

"It looks great," he agrees. "How's that, Ro? It's almost like yours now, we're going lilac too." 

"Mine are sparkly," she says. 

"You mean shiny?" 

She nods, reaching out toward the bed with both arms. Eddie puts her down at the end and her head flops back into the sheets. She lets out a huff. 

"This is nice." 

"Yeah?" you ask. "We can get you some if you want." 

"Maybe…" She looks between you and Eddie. "Is it time to brush our teeth now?" 

"Did you say you were hungry?" 

She nods hesitantly. 

"Well, maybe we can go have something to eat first. I don't want you sleeping with a rumbly tummy," Eddie says, wriggling his fingers at her in a common gesture for take my hand. 

"But this is so comfy," she says. Comfy sounds best of all in her little voice. It's a new word for her, and it's chewed over slowly. 

"You can come back." 

"Can I?" she asks. 

Eddie shrugs. "Why not?" 

"Oh my god!" she shouts, sliding off the end of the bed and collapsing into a heap at the foot of it. You step in to help her up, and she's quickly out of your arms and running down the stairs. 

"Ro!" Eddie calls. "No running down the stairs, baby, please!" 

Her footsteps noticeably slow. 

You raise an eyebrow at Eddie. "I think what you think you just said is different to what Roan thinks you just said." 

"Gee, thanks, Gollum." 

"Isn't that the gremlin guy?" you ask, genuinely hurt for a second. 

"No! No, he tells riddles, babe. 'Cause you're speaking in tongues and I don't know what you're trying to say I said." He scratches a hand through his limp hair, t-shirt sliding up to expose a slice of his stomach. "What did I say?" 

"I think," you begin, intertwining your fingers with his free hand, the two of you starting out of your room and down the stairs to find Roan before she makes a mess, "that she thinks she just got invited to a sleepover." 

Eddie pauses one step below you. "Really?" 

"I think so." 

He keeps on down, your hands swinging lightly. "Oh, whoops. It's Saturday, so I guess it doesn't matter. Do you mind?" 

"I don't mind, but she can't sleep on me all night, my chest is still sore." You had the flu recently, and it aches when you breathe in too deeply. 

"Deal, baby… how sore?" 

You wave a hand at him, pulling apart as you enter the kitchen. "Fine, just not fine for her to lean on me for eight hours." 

"She can sleep by me." 

By the time Roan and Eddie moved in, Roan was already sleeping in her own bed most nights, and even more when you started dating Eddie. But that doesn't mean she doesn't worm her way in. When you weren't at the trailer Eddie never minded having her with him (at least, when it wasn't too hot), and when you were she'd sometimes spend the night anyways despite a lack of room, citing monsters of nightmares or bad tummies. The best ones were her big pleading eyes accompanied by, "I miss you guys." Worked every time. 

Since moving in, she's spent the large majority of time in her own bed. She's getting bigger all the time, and it's just how things are. Co-sleeping ends eventually. 

Not quite yet, though. Roan still tries her luck, and most of the time you nor Eddie mind if she slips in. She insists on sleeping in the middle, usually, curled into Eddie's waist with a hand in your hand, or lying basically on top of you as Eddie sandwiches you both in his arms. 

But again, it's been happening less and less. If Roan wants to sleep in your bed tonight, you don't mind. It might be nice. You don't have to wonder if she's sleeping soundly, or if she's sitting there stiffened to silence by the creaking bathroom window echoing down the hall. 

Eddie makes Roan a sandwich and cuts it into wonky stars. She scarfs them fast and says thank you five times in a row, slamming her way back up the stairs before you've had time to sit down. Eddie smiles at you fondly. 

"She's so excited," he says, scraping her crusts into the trash. "It makes me feel bad. Wonder why we don't have her all the time." 

"'Cause she kicks in her sleep. And… you know, you don't want her to know you're the little spoon so often." 

"And she wiggles." 

You sigh. She wiggles.

While Roan's upstairs, you sidle into Eddie's arms for a last proper kiss. It's not very deep and you don't need it to be, just firm, the kind of kiss that speaks for itself. He holds your shoulders still so he can plant a couple of quick pecks atop of it. 

"Love you," you say. 

"I love you too," he says. He closes one eye to squint at you with the other, his nose wrinkling up. "I love you. You look beautiful right now, your nose." 

"My nose?" you ask. 

Random but not unusual for him, Eddie furthers his compliment easily. "It looks cute." He leans in slowly to avoid startling you and kisses the tip of it. 

You have such a crush on me, Munson, you'd usually joke, but for today you take the compliment and the kiss in stride. 

"It's an okay nose." 

"It's a great nose. And so kissable!" 

You smile. You're used to his kindness, his sweetness, his affection, but you'll never be able to understand what you did to deserve him. Everyone deserves to be loved like this, and you're the one who was lucky enough to actually have him. 

"Love you," you say again. 

"I know. Trust me, baby, I know." He returns your lovesick smile. 

"Guys, I think I dropped my toothbrush in the toilet!" 

You're both startled. Eddie walks into the hallway, head turned upward as he shouts back, "You think or you know?" 

A small, defeated grumble. "It's in the toilet, dad." 

—

Eddie wakes up early, entirely by accident. The weekend is sacred in that the only thing he asks for is some quiet in the mornings to sleep in. He turns his head to look at the time on his alarm clock. 9.47AM. Not bad. 

Your whispering woke him up. 

Against his back, curled away from you both, he can feel Roan's smaller body. She worked her way in between just as he thought she would. 

"When dad wakes up," you whisper, and Eddie thinks it's important to distinguish dad from your dad. There's something more intimate about it, he doesn't know what. "We'll let him have a shower and then I'll convince him that we need to go get pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream. And then we'll go see a movie, maybe, if they have one in the Hawk, or we could go to the movie store." 

"Really?" Roan asks, awed. 

"Yeah, baby, of course. Does that sound fun or what?" 

"Yeah, that sounds super fun… but I have to go see Uncle Wayne, too, 'cause he– he said he'd make me, um, the good hotdogs." 

"Yeah? Did he say what time?" 

"Dinner." 

"We have a big long day then," you say. He can hear your smile. "Breakfast, movie, Uncle Wayne's for dinner." 

He doesn't need to see you to know how you're laying. You'll be on your back, Roan's head on your shoulders, a hand he can feel occasionally bumping his arm each time you stroke her hair back. Sometimes, you pull your legs up, knees together. It reminds him of how young you both are. He's at the very start of his late 20s and having Roan has made him feel both younger and more naive than he ever thought he could, and it has also made him feel very, very old. He thinks this might be one of the younger moments. We're only getting started. 

"Okay. Will you help me get ready now?" 

You laugh, the bed shifting under him as you move around. Eddie doesn't turn, too tired and too content to listen to your conversation. He thinks about getting up as he hears you both leave. That was a lot of things to do and if you want to do them all he really should move. He falls back asleep before he can manage it. 

The second time he wakes, you're sitting at his hip, hand resting on his collar. 

"Hello, handsome," you say. He recognises the feeling of your thumb against his neck, petting him softly. "You wanna go get some breakfast?" 

His eyes are bleary with sleep, but you're still the prettiest thing he's ever seen. The more he knows you, the worse it gets. "You look so nice," he says, his tongue like lead in his mouth. 

"Just put a little bit of make up on. I looked tired." 

"What time is it?" 

"It's almost eleven." 

He struggles up into a sitting position. He gets a proper look at you and forgets all his aches and pains, your face and your arms and your pretty clothes at the very forefront of his thoughts immediately. He grabs your hand to make sure you're real. 

"You look so pretty," he says. 

"You're so lovely," you say back, tilting your head toward your shoulder. You're breaking his heart, looking like that. 

Roan pushes open the door. 

"Look, dad! We match!" 

And there Roan is, in a shirt and skirt with the same colours. His heart breaks all over again. His girls.

"You do," he says, nearly speechless. "You look beautiful, look at your hair!" 

You've twisted half of it up in two small ponytails at the back of her head so her face is clearly displayed. 

"Thank you. Now get up! We're gonna get waffles." 

"Oh, are we?" he asks, flopping backwards into the pillows again. "I'll get up." He lifts his head enough to show you both his serious face. "But you both have to give me a cuddle first. You know, as payment." 

"Payment for what?" you murmur, though you lean in anyway, unafraid of rumpling your nice clothes. 

He closes his eyes, feeling Roan's weight settle against his arm. 

He'll steal as many minutes as you'll both give him, and then he'll go get dressed. Today's gonna be a long day. Good, but long. 

—

more eddie and roan !! please reblog if you enjoyed!!♡

sorry for any typos, I will edit later tonight ♡♡♡♡

[starry-907]

Animation vs Life SMP

alright so i said in the tumblr community if we got new life series and influencer arc ep 3 on the same day i'd post my (currently very minimal and disorganized) thoughts for animation vs life series! and uh. we did indeed get new life series today soooooo yeah.

thoughts below the cut cuz it will likely be a bit long shgsldjf

Explanation of life smp

so! for those of you that don't know what life series/life smp is, it's basically hardcore but you have (usually) 3 lives instead of just one (there's been 2 seasons that don't follow that exact idea). when you hit your last life (referred to as your "red life") you get to be hostile and kill others outside of specific circumstances. last person alive wins! there's been 5 seasons so far (and a vaugely canon april fools ep), with the 6th season starting today, leading to me writing this here.

a lot of folks also add in some additional lore with these beings called the watchers, with the lore being that they're the ones organizing the games and kinda keeping the players locked in this loop of death games. i think one of the content creators has his own lore involving the watchers, martyn inthelittlewood.

if you want an explanation of ava/avm i can't type that here or we'd be here all day so instead i'll just link this post i made a while back that should help explain some stuff

The foundation

essentially this au starts with the idea of what if instead of mcyt-ers, the watchers decided to nab some silly sticks for their death game instead? the current lineup that they grabbed is:

Vic, Chosen, Dark, Second, Green, Blue, Yellow, Red, Purple, and Mango. i might add the mercs if i want more people for more complexity, but i'm still in the baby stages of ideation here.

thing is though, the watchers want to have a pawn member actually in the games, so they can manipulate events the way they want to, whenever they need to. so.....

(yeah that's right i made drawings to go along with this explanation)

ok so it isn't just because they're also purple, it's because they seemed the best candidate in terms of skill and such. cunning and resourceful, but still desperate for approval in a way, so just breadcrumb some praise and you should be able to get them to do what you need them to do right?

i mean purple does eventually realize something's up and doesn't listen to the watchers as much (when they can get away with it).

purple's changes

of course, being made a watcher does come with some changes, external and internal.

external, they get these floating eyes around their head, and the watcher symbol on their back. both of them are usually not visible, only really showing up in low light (light level 3 or less) or when under extreme stress. somehow no one's really questioned it? i mean if you're stuck in a death game (that you don't know is a loop of death games), your friend suddenly getting a bunch of eyes isn't a major concern.

what does garner attention (esp cuz these can't be hidden), is the fact that purple's elytra have turned into full on feathered wings (also with the watcher symbol). they don't allow for flight in the games (unfair advantage), but they do serve as a more... permanent reminder of where purple's ultimate loyalties should lie.

(in case you can't tell, i'm working with majority morally dark watchers here. there are some that don't like the idea, but most of them are more than down for it).

ok jumping ahead a bit we're talking curses!

what's a life series without some curses and patterns, eh? i do not have many right now, but i do know what the biggest one is, i'll do that last.

mango gets a curse to always fail to protect a close ally from death at least once

vic is cursed to always have one death that was preventable

blue has sort of a reverse of mangos, she will have at least one death protecting an ally.

ok starry but what about the canary curse?

i'm glad you asked. who's the one that always runs into battle first in ava, and is therefore the one to always die first?

THAT'S RIGHT. HECK YOU *CANARIES YOUR RED*.

i realize there's other characters that could've fit but at the same time canary red just hits so much more to me. granted the watchers didn't know for sure who their canary would be during the first game, but once red died they just collectively went 👀 and hit him with the curse.

after the first game, the ends of red's bandana become stylized to look like wings, and anyone who knows how to look can see faint images of canary wings on his shoulders. only purple knows the exact reason why.

hey so are they just stuck forever or what

uhhh haven't fully thought this part through. HOWEVER! i do know the main focus characters of this au! purple is clearly one of them, since they have a connection to the watchers (kinda against their will). the other primary focus character... well a lot of folks headcanon that the winners get to remember the past game(s) as a reward for their victory, and the first winner is someone who's more than used to dealing with having an urge in the back of their mind to kill.

basically woe, platonic bugduo upon ye. dark wins the first game, learns about the watchers and stuff, and decides to work with purple on trying to break the cycle. also! for those of you who know how third life ended take that but instead it's chosen and dark. tragic siblings.

(i guess dark did wind up fulfilling their code to destroy the chosen on- *gets exploded*)

other misc things/the scenarios imagined

they would go through all the current games, i don't have many ideas for limited life though (i've only watched all of third and secret life, i need to catch up on the others)

i realized that the boogey curse session from secret life could be very interesting to deal with (blue would be the one to start with the boogey curse), i might write that one if i ever write things for this

purple realizing at the start of limited life that everyone had their memories of third life erased (except dark, they realize dark knows but maybe by that point the alliances are already made)

purple gets to go feral at least once as a treat. is it the boogey curse? red life urges? the watchers? who knows but they get to go feral

as i said, dark is able to resist the red life urges a bit better due to experience with the mission code (which is somewhat suppressed by the watchers, they don't want to let their game be ruined by something like that). also remember how scott didn't kill anyone while affected by the boogey curse in limited life yeah dark does that and it's actually the worst

red notices the wings, he knows about canaries but he doesn't know the full significance of them.

idk what associations the winners would get (i'm still thinking about the different winners at this point anyways). I think yellow would win one, maybe also chosen or second...?

unlikely alliances, unlikely alliances as far as the eye can see. double life especially

PLEASE if you have any ideas or questions come yell at me in my ask box, i would like to talk more about this and i'm curious what thoughts y'all might have

[solaris-amethyst]

💫Like we were kids again💫

✨Pairing: Wooyoung x gn!reader ✨Prompt: Playing with sidewalk chalk like they're kids again ✨Word count: 0.7k ✨Genre: fluff, non idol au ☀️Authors note: This is my first piece written here, do let me know if you enjoyed it or any thoughts about it in general❣️ Also was it too short? or was it a good length for a one shot like this one?

The sun was shining through the window giving you the perfect natural light to read the book you had finally picked up from the library. You had heard a lot of good things about this book but unfortunately so far the book had been a rather big disappointment.

The author was not doing a good job of creating the story and the characters were beyond infuriating with their constant whining and the way they kept complaining about everything every other page. You took a sip from your cup of tea whilst looking outside the window, that is when you noticed your friend and partner Wooyoung rushing to the door of your apartment complex holding some sort of bucket with a big grin.

You shrugged as you put your cup down and picked up the book again ready to try and finish the book, just so no one could complain when you said you did not like it by saying "you did not even read the entire book!". You did not get far in your reading before the door slammed open and Wooyoung ran inside with a big smile.

"(y/n) you won't be able to guess what I got!!"

You put your book down and looked up at him with curious eyes, his eyes were shining with excitement and his smile was infectious causing yours to grow.

"Hmmmm perhaps you got a bucket of paint?" you guessed truly not knowing what he had brought home.

"Close! I brought something even better! Sidewalk chalk!!" He beamed as he showed the bucket more clearly. Inside it were a bunch of colorful chalk in both normal colors and pastels. They looked exactly like the ones the kids down the block used to play with during the weekends when the weather was nice.

"Sidewalk chalk?"

"Yes!! Now put that pesky book away! We're going painting!" He motioned for the door with his head. He truly didn't need to convince you twice as you stood up glad to have an excuse to abandon the book for a while.

"Sure! That sounds like loads of fun actually!" You told him as he took your hand dragging you towards the door, only stopping to put on some shoes before walking out of the door, locking it and dragging you down the stairs.

"I'll show you how good of an artist I can be!" Wooyoung said as you two got to the empty sidewalk.

"Not if I show you first how good I can be!!" you challenged causing him to look at you mischievously.

"Is that a challenge?"

"Maybe" the sly smile you gave him made his own smile widen.

"I'll show you my amazing drawing skills. You'll be amazed!" he boasted as he sat down taking out a purple chalk to draw with. He was very adamant that you were not allowed to see until he was done. So you focused on your own drawing, taking some of the yellow chalk to draw a cute little sun with a little smiley face on it. Wooyoung was humming as he was drawing and just when you reached for the orange chalk he very proudly turned around to you.

"Ta-daaaa! what do you think??"

"Is... Is that supposed to be a rabbit??" you questioned and he gasped and gave your shoulder a nudge.

"It's a cat!! can't you see that?!"

"Ohhhhhh... Yeah absolutely i see a cat." you tried to hold in your laughter, the cat did look more like a rabbit the way Wooyoung had drawn it and he shoved you again with a pout.

"Don't laugh at my cat! what did you draw then?!"

"Oh just a sun." he peered over to your chalk painting and he gave it a little appreciative nod.

"Its cute... But not as cute as my cat!"

"Hey!!" this time you shoved him back and he let out a loud cackle as he fell to his butt again.

"I'll show you! I'll draw an even cuter cat than your cat!" you said as you grabbed a new color to draw with determined to win over Wooyoung.

"Not if I draw an even cuter cuter cat than the one I've already drawn!!"

The two of you were sitting for many hours drawing, laughing, competing and shoving each other while playing around with the chalk and in the end you ended up collaborating on drawing a unicorn together while bickering about which colors to use for the mane.

It truly couldn't be any better spending time with your partner playing around in the sun and enjoying each other's company.

[alderaani]

Lost

Summary: Wolffe and his squad are having a post-training rest cycle on Kamino when a new and unexpected visitor enters their midst. AO3 | Series

Author's Note: Another part to my 100 one word clone centric prompt fills. It does feel a bit miraculous to be returning to this series for the first time since 2022 but I've said it before and I'll say it again - no piece of writing is ever dead until I am. Hope anyone still around to give this a read enjoys it <3

--

“Uh...do you guys hear something?”

Wolffe pushed up from where he’d been lying on his stomach, face mashed into his pillow. He cracked his eyes open to glare at Bly.

“Only you and your big mouth,” He grunted, voice rough and groggy. “You gettin’ twitchy, trigger finger?”

Bly was sitting with his legs dangling off the edge of the opposite pod, so Wolffe got a good look at the way his face fell. He refused to feel bad about it. Not when he had fresh bruising coming up purple across his ribs and the shouting of their drill Sergeant still ringing in his ears. Bly sniffed, his eyes going big and round. Wolffe snorted. That tactic had stopped working before they’d even enrolled as cadets.

“I said I was sorry,” Bly muttered, pouting and reaching across to kick Wolffe’s pod when the threat of tears didn’t get him anywhere.

That was an old trick too. Wolffe shot his hand out and grabbed the errant ankle, pulling hard and laughing when Bly shrieked and had to twist to cling on to his bed.

Below them there was a loud groan and an ominous creak.

“Will you guys knock it off?” 

 Wolffe froze, but was too late to avoid the blunt force that slammed into his lower back. The air shoved out of his lungs, and he dropped Bly’s foot in favour of curling over.

“Kark it, Fil,” he coughed. “You kick like a rancor.”

Fil grunted then jabbed his toes into the small of Wolffe’s back again for good measure.

“You’re ruining nap time,” he said, voice muffled. “We’re supposed to be resting .”

Wolffe scoffed and uncurled slowly, sticking his tongue out at Bly, who had scrambled back onto his own bed and was looking smug.

“Nap time’s for tubies.”

Fil stabbed viciously at the mattress again.

“Yeah,” he said. “And I wouldn’t need it if you and Blitz hadn’t been so kriffing loud last night.”

Wolffe froze and scowled. He’d told Blitz he was making too much noise, but their brother wouldn’t know the meaning of quiet if it punched him in the bucket. They kept failing stealth simulations because he either didn’t know or didn’t care what the difference between a popper and a detonator was, and for all Wolffe’s efforts, he carried over the same attitude to conversation, too.

Bly brightened. “I heard that too, what were you doing?”

Wolffe scowled even more, feeling his shoulders bunch up to his ears. “ Nothing .”

He hadn’t pulled off a lie in his life, but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying. It was better than the alternative of actually admitting that they’d stolen one of the practice droids and been trying to programme it to go for the trainers instead. If his brothers got wind of things, there was no way that Fil wouldn’t sell them out to kiss ass, and Bly just couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

Cody...well, Wolffe never quite knew where he stood about these things. Sometimes he’d veto ideas entirely, the downturn of his mouth a deathknell to even the best laid plans. Wolffe knew when he was beaten. But on better occasions Cody would get a special glint in his eye, one that always reminded him of light bouncing off a blaster barrel, and suggest something that would magnify the chaos instead. He had the best sabaac face of them all, so it was always better to have him on side. 

Wolffe had spent many hours trying to figure out what cast the odds of getting Cody to loosen up a bit. Until he knew for definite, it was imperative he kept this one under his bucket. He felt good about the plan; Blitz had done a real number on the wiring, so the job looked seamless. But they’d need the whole squad to pitch in if they were gonna get it to work. He wanted to make sure this thing was airtight before he pitched it.

“Why don’t you pull your pod closed if you’re so tired?” He asked, sticking his head over the edge of his own to glare at Fil properly. He got a glimpse of Fil’s pillow-creased face before a socked foot shot towards his face. “ Hey.” 

“You’re deflecting, vod,” Fil grunted. 

“ Vod ?” Wolffe scoffed, scrubbing his sore cheek. He wrinkled his nose. “The hell’re you tryin’ to talk like one of those Alpha ARCs for? Hopin’ they’ll adopt you if you ask nicely?”

There was a short silence, long enough that Wolffe chanced another peek over the edge. Fil’s ears had flushed dark, his expression mulish. Wolffe scented weakness and grinned.

“Bet they’d be nicer to me than you are,” Fil said, the furrow between his brows deepening.

Wolffe snorted. “The Alphas aren’t nice to nobody, ‘ specially not scrawny regs like you .” 

“That’s not true!” Fil’s voice was shrill. 

As Wolffe opened his mouth to reply, Bly made a sharp sound of warning that he was too caught up in amusement to heed.  

“The Alpha class get to break the rules , Fil. You just kiss the manual.”

There was ringing silence from the bunk below, instead of the sharp quip that Wolffe had expected. For a second, the only sound was the harsh burr of Blitz snoring on the next level up. He glanced automatically at Bly, who scrunched his face and cut his hand in a line across his throat. 

Then Wolffe heard a distinct sniffle, his stomach dropping. He scrambled back to the edge of the bunk and stuck his whole head over the edge, something cold and awful spreading inside him, extinguishing his humour in an instant.

“Hey, are you crying?” 

“ No, ” Fil said, wetly, struggling to turn over and hide his face. His breath hitched so hard Wolffe could see his ribs jump.

Kark it. He’d done it again. Pushed too hard and put his great big foot in it. It felt like he’d come out of the tube wrong sometimes, like there was simultaneously too much of him and not enough of the good bits. He’d made Gree cry the other day, too, had pulled just a little too hard when they were sparring and then suddenly found himself trying to calm him down before the trainer noticed. He was always doing that; barrelling straight over the line and not realising until it was dust behind him.

It made him good at simulations. He didn’t think it made him a very good brother. 

He twisted his hands together and looked beseechingly towards Bly, who fixed him with an unimpressed glare and gestured at the lower bunk. 

The message was clear: Go fix it . For a moment, he was tempted to just retract his pod, but...that would be cowardly. And if he didn’t make things up now, Cody or Blitz would force him to later. Probably from a headlock.

He sighed and dutifully clambered down a level until he was hanging off the ladder by Fil’s head. He was still curled up and sniffling, but with a stiff sort of awareness that told Wolffe he was fully alert and primed to start swinging if he didn’t get this right. They always had to be ready to turn tears into anger, to prove that you weren’t someone too weak to leave behind. 

“You can say vod if you wanna,” he began, cringing at the way the words sounded coming out of his mouth. 

Fil snorted and didn’t turn to look at him.

Wolffe took a deep breath. “S-just… why ?”

Fil shuffled. “What?” 

“Why do you wanna talk like them? They don’t do nothin’ for us.” 

Wolffe didn’t know how true it was, but he’d heard that all 100 of the Alpha class were still kicking. Alphas didn’t get sent to reconditioning if their scores dipped, didn’t just disappear . And the trainers even called them by their names. 

Wolffe might have respected that more if it had ever trickled down to the rest of them. He’d always be a plain old CC until the day he died and there was nothing anyone could do about that, no matter who he spoke like. 

Fil finally rolled over, displaying a damp tear streaked face. He scowled at Wolffe. 

“I dunno. It’s not even about them,” he bit out. Wolffe saw the way his shoulders hunched and thought lie . He only just managed to restrain himself from sinking his teeth into it and let go. “I just…they say it like they’re part of somethin’.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“They say it like they’re something…more, I guess,” Fil shrugged, swiping a sleeve under his nose. 

“More than us , you mean,” Wolffe said. He’d been aiming for outrage, but was surprised by the meek little voice that came out of him. 

Fil had been watching the Alphas for a while. Lots of cadets did. Wolffe could understand wanting better for yourself - hell, he wasn’t exempt from that - but seeing that dream in another clone classification felt a lot like wishing yourself away. Like wishing your brothers away, too. 

“If you want another squad just say it,” he muttered, through a throat so tight it hurt. He’d been bunked with this squad since their second cycle - practically batchmates, since none of their original ones had made the cut. That was a long time in the projected shelf life of a clone. Despite his better judgement, he liked them most of the time.

Fil made an exasperated noise. “That’s not what I -” 

Above their heads, there was a clang, then a thump. Wolffe shot to attention, but didn’t anticipate Fil doing the same. Their shoulders collided, nearly pitching him off the narrow bunk entirely had Fil’s hand not caught the back of his collar.

“I told you I heard something,” Bly hissed. 

The huge ventilation tunnel spanning the length of their dormitory ceiling shuddered again, creaking as it swayed ominously. There was the echoing thud of a foot connecting to the inner wall.

Wolffe snorted. 

“It’s just some of the tubies sneaking out,” he said, sinking back to lean against Fil’s pillow. 

“Badly,” Bly said. “Have they got a full set of armour on or what?”

Fil was frowning, still craning his head upwards.

“Where the hell are they going?” He muttered, tracking the tunnel to where it disappeared into the far wall. “The only thing that way is the shower block.”

There was another clang, before the maintenance hatch for their dormitory popped open. A small body wriggled out, before swinging to grab the surface of the nearest pod on the uppermost level.

Wolffe studied the cadet that had just dropped into their midst. The gangly, colt-like limbs on 'em made him wince. With legs like that he was either approaching a stint in the growth acceleration chamber or had just come out of one. Wolffe pitied him regardless. Judging by his height and the extra fat he still had in his cheeks, he was probably only a cycle behind them. Most interesting was the shock of pale blond curls in disarray as the cadet nimbly scaled the pod latches on the wall opposite and landed on the floor. 

He’d only seen a few mutations before, and none so dramatic as this. No wonder the poor kid had learned how to sneak around - you certainly wouldn’t miss him in a crowd.

“Uh, you lost?” he asked, coughing out a laugh at the way it made the cadet jump and wheel around. He caught a glimpse of the usual big brown eyes, a pair of eyebrows drawn together over them. There was a tight, resolute downturn to the curve of their mouth, a ready wariness in the hunched line of their shoulders.

“ No.” They said, gaze flicking rapidly between each member of their rapt audience. Wolffe stifled another laugh at the squeaky pitch of their voice - it was hard to imagine they’d ever sounded like that. “I have an appointment.”

“An appointment ?” Bly didn’t even try to hide his amusement. “Nobody ever told me this was an office. Who’re you booked in with, kid?”

The cadet kept his back to the wall, and Wolffe didn’t miss the way he catalogued the door, or scoped out possible routes back to the maintenance hatch. His shoulders hadn’t relaxed down from around his ears yet, his hands tight fists at his sides. Wolffe had to admit, he didn’t know if he’d be able to go uninvited into another squad’s dorm with any more swagger. There was something scrappy about this kid - an unpredictable mixture of fight or flight where either impulse might win.

“You’re Cody’s new pet, aren’t you?” Fil said suddenly. “The one he keeps trying to socialize.”

That rang a bell. Cody had been ranting about this new cadet he’d found in the detention laps for the last two weeks, convinced the kid was either going to commit a murder or become the victim of one if someone didn’t do something about it. Wolffe had wanted to question why that someone had to be Cody, but there was no point wasting the breath - Cody was a sucker for charity cases. It was why he was the best of them, unilaterally deferred to when the chips were down. There weren’t many people in this army who you knew would always come back for you, squad or not. Maybe it was because their whole squad had been strays, once. While the choice to be together had never been theirs, the choice to become a unit had. Cody had taken that mentality and run with it.

The cadet brightened a little bit, in a desperately hopeful way that was kind of disgusting. “Is he here?”

Instead of answering, Bly tilted his head, studying the new arrival with rapt attention. “Wow, I thought he was making you up.”

Wolffe wrinkled his nose. “Why would he do that?”

Bly shrugged. “I don’t know, I figured it was just a polite way of telling us to kriff off.”

Wolffe stared at his brother in naked disbelief. “Cody’s never been polite in his life.”

“And he told you to kriff off to your face this morning,” Blitz said, poking his head over the edge of his pod. “I heard him. What are we talking about?”

“Cody’s new passion project,” Wolffe told him. “Apparently they have an ‘appointment’ together.”

The cadet’s expression had been slowly softening into crestfallen the longer none of the other pods popped open, but the moment Wolffe spoke a spark of anger lit again, his teeth coming out.

“My designation is CT-7567,” he snapped. “Cody was going to take me to watch the aiwhas.”

Wolffe caught Bly’s eye - the lack of a name spoke volumes. Either this cadet was so far in the shit he was on performance rotation and didn’t have a set squad of his own, which was practically having one foot over the threshold of the decommissioning bay, or his relationship with his squad was the thing on the rocks. Neither prospect had a long lifespan attached to it.

“He got pulled back by our trainer,” Blitz said, taking pity on the kid. He ran his hands through his sleep-mussed hair and yawned until his jaw cracked.

“Is he okay?” ‘67 asked.

Fil rolled his eyes. “Yeah, he’s fine. Just doesn’t study hard enough for his galactic history modules.”

‘67 folded his hands into his sleeves, scrunching and relaxing the material over and over again. His eyes drifted back towards the maintenance hatch. He was going to try to run, Wolffe realised. 

He turned to look properly at Fil, gesturing just the slightest bit towards the kid. It had been a long time since they’d gone aiwha-watching, but it had been their favourite thing to do a few cycles back. They only really swarmed when it was storming, the danger of navigating the slick rooftops worth it for the way the pods drifted lazily on the huge waves and rolled to let the pelting rain tickle their undersides.

Cody had never taken anyone out there, of all the miserable tagalongs he’d acquired over the years. More than anything else, it sealed Wolffe’s decision - whether they liked it or not, 7567 was here for the long haul. 

Fil rolled his eyes, but he was almost smiling.

“Sure, been a while since we snuck out,” Bly shrugged, catching the silent conversation. 

“Hell yeah,” Blitz said. “Where are we going?” 

7567 had gone very still, like he was stood in the crosshairs of a KiSteer rifle. 

“To see the aiwhas, idiot,” Wolffe scoffed. “It’s not the kid’s fault that Cody’s late.” 

“Hell yeah, ” Blitz said again, stretching until his spine popped. “I’ve got a theory, do you think if I -” 

“ No, ” Wolffe said forcefully, in unison with Fil and Bly. Almost as long as he’d been out of his tube, Blitz had been trying to find a way to ride the aiwhas like the longnecks did. They’d been finding ways to stop him for just slightly less time than that. 

“Aw, you guys are no fun,” Blitz muttered, but there was no heat in it. He’d swung himself onto the ladder and made it most of the way towards the floor before 7567 found his voice again.

“Why would you do that?” he asked, voice brittle. He was still frozen, eyes darting between them. Distrust was the winning emotion on his face, but there was that unwilling edge of hope again, that even the experience of having a mutation on Kamino hadn’t managed to smother. Wolffe had said it before, he’d say it again: disgusting. He could entirely see why Cody was ready to put his commendations on the line for this little brat.

“Because if you’re one of Cody’s, you’re one of ours,” he shrugged, clambering past Fil to slide down the ladder. He popped open their wet weather locker and yanked out two of the coats inside. He threw one at ‘67. “That’s how squad works. Now suit up.”

They didn’t take ‘67 back through the ventilation shaft - a cycle ago they would have, but in the months that had lapsed since they’d last tried, they’d grown too much for it to be comfortable. They used the maintenance halls instead. Less secure, maybe, but they were on good terms with old ‘99, who in turn kept the droid fleet sweet, so they were unlikely to be ratted out by anyone.

“You don’t have to creep around like that, kid,” Bly was saying to him, as they cleared the stretch underneath training hall 3.

‘67 looked like he might bite. “Don’t call me kid . I’m barely younger than you.”

Wolffe stifled a laugh. He wanted to hold the cadet up by his ankles and shake him around until he really fought back, just to see what would happen. There would be time for that, though, once he stopped believing it was really a matter of life and death and loosened up a bit.

“Gotta find yourself a name, if you don’t want kid to stick,” Fil told him, flanking his other side. “Some clones in our cycle have got some real unfortunate ones cause they weren’t quick enough.”

‘67’s scowl deepened into something more hurt than mad. “No chance of that. My squad won’t even give me a stupid one.”

Wolffe felt that funny wrench in his chest again. Was that what the younger squads were doing? Only taking names when they’d passed group consensus? More proof that a single cycle between clones could be akin to an ocean. 

“So pick your own,” he heard himself say. 

“What?” ‘67 asked, looking at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Pick your own,” he repeated. “Don’t let ‘em have that over you.”

“You can do that?” ‘67 sounded deeply sceptical.

“Course you can,” Blitz said. “I wasn’t going to let any of these idiots pick for me.”

Wolffe laughed. “Yeah, we’d have ended up as Idiots One, Two, Three and Four.”

“I’d have been Idiot One,” Bly told ‘67, grinning.

“Like hell you would,” Fil retorted. “ I’d have been Idiot One.”

‘67’s voice was flat. “Aren’t there five of you?”

Bly’s grin grew wider. “Yeah, but Cody would have been Big Idiot.”

Their laughter carried them until they were out on the rooftop, when they had to start concentrating to stop themselves getting blown off into the oblivion of Kamino’s oceans. Wolffe went first - he was one of the surest on his feet, and he’d been out here the most often. It took a little longer on this new route, but he figured his way to their usual spot easily enough, where the wind was a little less brutal with the facility fully at their backs. The views out over the long, desolate horizon were best here too, letting you see the huge tidal waves roll in.

“I don’t see anything,” ‘67 muttered, casting a hand over his forehead like keeping the rain out might help him see better.

“Just give it a minute,” Bly said, tracking the rolling water and the loud, slamming booms as each wave hit the platform stilts all those meters below. “Aiwhas like the massive ones, lets ‘em really surf.”

“Got a platform beater coming!” Blitz shouted, gesturing. “Look at the crest on that!”

“I see them, I see them!” ‘67 cried, flapping his hand in the same direction. Sure enough, as the wave swelled, there was the low, carrying croon of an aiwha pod, before their great, grey bodies came shooting out of the frothy wave head, first five, then ten, their huge wings beating lazily to help them keep pace with the waterline. 

The pod leader, a huge, grizzled thing with chunks out of its wings, bellowed and rolled as the wave started its downward trajectory, spinning once, twice, before tucking everything in tight and bombing back into the water, the rest of the pod following. The resulting spray was so fierce Wolffe barely had time to get his hand over his face before it got them.

‘67 was shrieking with laughter, a huge smile splitting his face from side to side. “That was amazing !” 

A looming shadow fell behind them. They all froze.

“What the heck is this?” 

Everyone apart from ‘67 relaxed.

“Hey, Cody,” Bly said, giving him a lazy two-fingered salute. “We thought we’d take your cadet for a walk.”

“That’s my vod’ika, get your own,” Cody growled.

Wolffe groaned. “Not you, too. Why can’t we make up our own word?” 

“Do you like karkhead better?” Cody asked. He was still in his training armor, and looked mad as hell about it. He’d clearly hightailed it straight from his remedial to the dorms and then come here directly when he’d found it empty. Wolffe might have felt bad about his panic had it not been clearly rooted in Cody not trusting what they’d done with ‘67 in his absence.

“That’s not very nice, ‘67 has a perfectly fine head,” he retorted, dodging the kick that quickly followed.

“I meant for you ,” Cody said, eyes raking over ‘67. When he was satisfied that his squad hadn’t managed to break him, he sniffed. “Have I missed many?”

“Just the best pod dive we’ve ever seen in our lives,” Bly crowed.

Cody made the mistake of trying to kick for a second time; Bly bypassed the foot and latched around his thigh, and they both went down with shouts and lots of scuffling, clearing out Blitz as collateral.

‘67 stood in the middle of the chaos looking thoroughly bewildered.

“Shouldn’t we stop them?” He asked Fil in a small voice, one arm coming up to wrap round his stomach. “I - I don’t want ‘em to fight cause of me.” 

Fil grinned. “This isn’t fighting, kid. C’mere.”

And to Wolffe’s surprise, ‘67 came, scooting to fit into the small space between him and Fil, where he’d clearly figured out the best warmth would be.

 Fil turned to look at Wolffe over ‘67’s blond head, satisfaction on his face.

“This is why I call you vod , you know,” he said, gesturing back at where their squadmates were tussling in a puddle. “When I said it made me feel part of something, I meant that when I say it, it feels like this. I don’t want a new squad.”

And standing there in the rain, wet through despite his gear and cold to the bone, with his idiot brothers and their strange new tagalong, Wolffe could almost get it.

“Good,” he said, then turned back to the ocean. There was a new wave coming in.

[yourlocalstranger123]

Good evening Ro, please make sure you eat something and drink water!

I was wondering if you could write a needy Beel (B1) and Belphie (B2) fic where you tell B1 and B2 that you’re going out with some friends and don’t give any details as to who they are or what they are and they ask questions and you just run out the door ignoring their questions. Eventually B1 follows you and you realize it because B1 is like 6 ft+ where he where is he gonna hide? And you teased him by going into a bunch of inappropriate shops, very casually. Until you go to like a lingerie store and order them to come into the dressing room with you and tease them until they are begging to feel/taste you.

......Please give me ur brain— I mean. YES. YES. IM GONNA INCLUDE THIS FOR MY EVENT & THE POLL I DID THAT 7 BROTHERS WON. EHEUEUEH. Also apologies, I didn't know if you only want B1 to follow you and be in the dressing room because you only mentioned B1 doing it but you said "they" so im assuming both?

Also one more thing. I don't mean in this in a bad way, but I hope people can tell me for specifics what kind of gender is the reader. Gn, male or female. So right now I'll do gn so I don't get the pronouns wrong.

Warning!!: Sex toys, NSFW obviously, MINORS DNI, biting and etc. Lingerie

— Most Tilted words: thoughts. No colors tho —

— orange: Beel talking–Purple: Belphie talking—

"Beel!, Belphie!" You called. Beel hurriedly ran over to you as he carries Belphie with one arm as Belphie slowly wakes up, rubbing his eyes as he opens it. They both ask if you needed something,,

"Nope. Just telling you im going out with some friends." Beel immediately asks you if he could come with you but you declined. Beel slightly frowned. Perhaps pouting too with Belphie. "But....can't you just stay with us?...please" Belphie slightly whined. Tugging your sleeve to make you stay.

"Uh...." You ran straight out the door, but of course not without ruffling Beel's hair and rubbing Belphie's cheek first. They both were baffled. Even Belphie was wide awake! They both look at eachother and nodded, a message just going through their eyes. (Ah, brotherly understanding lmao)

As you were half way there, you felt a stare that could burn a hole through you. You looked over, not seeing anyone. Except for a bright, orange hair sticking out of the bushes.....slightly chuckling, you called your friends, looking back to also see Belphie watching you too with Beel. You told your friends you couldn't go because of some reasons.

When you were finished, you went to a dark path. But going slow to make sure Beel and Belphie could still follow you. Finally stopping at a shop, smirking without them seeing it. Knowing well they both blushed furiously, seeing the place labed for XXX. They didn't think you were going to here! But they can't give up yet,

so they put on disguises and watched you walking around the aisle. You casually went to another lewd shop, and another one, until you reached a lingerie shop. They shuddered when they felt you smiling....feeling it had some mischievous in it.

They were cunfused when you made a hand gesture of grabbing and holding something. Until you grabbed Beel's size, they finally knew that you were just doing that so you know which fits him-! So with Belphie's! They blushed even harder, that their face goes redder than a tomato as you also did that for the bottom part of lingerie.

They tilted their heads in confusion, 'why are you going to a large dressing room when it doesn't even fit you and you bought it for them?'

As they got closer, suddenly you opened the door and grabbed both of their shirts by the collar and pulled them in there. Locking the door, you were slightly relieved that they had a big room to fit for 4 people. Don't know why, but you weren't complaining since there is a lot of space.

"[Name]...." Beel mumbled your name. Tugging your sleeve as his eyes begged you to do something. "Please let me taste you, just this once? Or please just touch me...!" Beel whined. Guiding your hand to his chest, his face looks like he wants to devour you whole.

Beel only grinded on your thigh, panting as he let his head rest on your shoulder. "More....Need more, please! give us more [name]?" He huffed out, breathing unstable as he wrapped his arms around your neck as he started to grind more sloppy. While Beel was licking your lips, quietly asking for permission to kiss you.

Opening your mouth, Beel quickly kissed you. Refusing to let go for even a breath of air, trying to taste all of you. "Please, pleasepleaseplease!!"

Beel didn't know what he was even begging for. Just focusing on the tingling and exciting shock going through his body as you touched him. Belphie bites back a whine as he watched Beel getting desperate. He didn't know his pants can get this tight

Belphie started to kiss you, sloppy and desperate. Beel just biting and marking your neck up, not making it bleed but good enough to last for a while. His breath hitched when he felt your hand palming his bulge, feeling the slight smirk on his neck as you kissed it. Trying to take off your coat, but you stopped them. Of course, Beel was whining but stopped,,

their eyes widen when you took out vibrators and cock rings. When did you buy it?? They swear they didn't see you buy any! (You bought it secretly as you handed the money on the table and quickly put it in your coat pockets)

Smiling, your finger trails Beel's chest to his adomon. Tugging Belphie's shirt collar as he slightly yelped. "C'mon. You can't waste the lingerie I bought. So wear it, " you grinned. Stunned but soon blushing furiously, they took off their clothes. Shuddering as the cold air hits their skin. You had some good hands memory as it fit both of them so perfectly!

Beel holding his breath as you put on the cock ring on him as you put the vibrator on his tip. He wore back his clothes as you ordered, being a good boy just for you! Although the stimulation was a little too much as he was sensitive and tried closing up his legs. Belphie refused, trying to push your hands away from his dick. Of course, he embarrassedly let's you do that as he softly whimpers.

A hour passes later as a staff asks if everything is okay in there. About to knock on the door, the door opens up as 2 flustered men twitching and a happy you. You paid for the lingerie as the staff flustered, accepted the money. Already knowing what you were doing.

You wonder if they can go back to the house without cuming, let's see♡

[reign-life]

Y'know I was wondering if I should make this. But cringe culture is dead and the team seems to actually be trying so

Poppy Playtime Chapter 4 Gameplay Trailer Reaction/Analysis

First of all, I like Doey's jingle. It's short, but sounds realistic enough

And... has there been a swear in Poppy Playtime before? If not then holy shit an actual swear. Sure it's a tame one, but compared to the obvious kids farm bait of chapter 1, it seems like a good sign

Security Breach jokes aside(put a pin in that), why does it look like there's a bunch of the poppy gas? There being a bunch still lying around is believable, but I thought we'd see the last of that stuff with Catnap being impaled. But with how the toys apparently become part of the Prototype once he grabs them...

I like Harley's voice and the little eye animation. Realistic eyes are always creepy and the voice actor's doing great

Here's one of the spots from some of the images and Baba's trailer. Obvious puzzle is obvious(ding!). And I just noticed this, but that's possibly a new hand(could also be the purple one in strange lighting though)

Y'know tvs aren't cheap. Assuming this hallway(that does admittedly look cool) isn't something The Doctor made, I wonder how much of the budget got spent on this room alone. Maybe it's some security area?

Two things to address for this screenshot! First of all, what the fuck is that. I don't... think it's a human body? It doesn't seem rotted enough(assuming that's not bone) and this would be a questionable model. But it has one of the hands? Despite not having a grabpack? If the "the protag's not human" theory wasn't thoroughly squashed by now I could maybe say it's connected, but even the player needs an actual grabpack

Second: the caption. What do you mean the Prototype's working with Harley?? Maybe this is some manipulation(and not The Doctor's, you can't convince me Prototype would listen), but I can't see why he wouldn't just kill the dude. "They're both experiments" doesn't work, we saw what happened to that one former scientist. A security system could be useful, but would that really outweigh the cost of working with the dude who caused most of this suffering?

Yarnaby has claws. Neat!

This graffiti's certainly worth analyzing. It's clearly directed to the smiling/nightmare critters, which makes sense with how many of them are crawling around here. But who made this? The eyes could maybe be connected to Harley, but this is his domain and the toys are being shielded from them

Edit: it seems like Doey's made this and, by extension, his own safe haven for other toys. Not a good sign when combined with the hoard of minis, but hopefully they're unconnected

I have to wonder what this guy means(and who he is ig). There's vending machines that you could've used and... everyone's been down there for years. Food was gonna run out eventually and the only choice left is cannibalism(which they're clearly willing to do, nothing's stopping them). Sure Prototype's plan has a few flaws, but the starving thing doesn't seem to be entirely his and Harley's fault

Oh he is big. Bigger Bodies Initiative, I get it, but I assumed he'd be slightly smaller from his introduction trailer

...I will not make jokes. What I will do is notice that The Doctor's clearly got a body. Honestly kinda disappointing(not to mention confusing, but I'll talk about that more in a second). Him only being shown through tvs and other not-body electronics would've been cool

Kissy's alive! Yes! Ignoring Poppy's eyes seeming more bloody than normal, there's an unknown voice. Sure several of the voices are unknown, but this one is directly acknowledged as that. My theory is that it's the Prototype. Something about the way he says "mind" sounds different, added in

Okay remember that pin? Something about this situation screams "weeping angel" and feels really similar to the Glamrock Endos. But y'know what, the "inspiration vs theft and does that argument even apply" thing isn't new. So I'm just going to ask: what are the tv heads? They wouldn't be toys(I think?) and while the company is cruel, surely they're not stupid enough to give Harley a way to move around even more easily. Maybe these were made by the Prototype? He seems smart enough that it's possible

We finally get to see what role the nightmare critters play and it's... about what I expected. Which is a good thing! Their toy models are pretty cute and it's not surprising that they function the same as the mini smiling critters in chapter 3. But we also get to see two(only one in this screenshot) mini huggies. Which really does highlight that this area is a safe place and may lead to us seeing other types of small toys. I see where Catnap got the idea to watch over the minis

And more of the maybe-corpses. I don't think these are skeletons since one has an ear(you'd think the toys would've picked them clean...), but these just- aren't believable humans??

If there's any moment to reveal that Ollie's a traitor, this is gonna be it. Calling it now. Also 1. why are Kissy's injuries depicted like that(assuming it isn't something else). The toys bleed, this is just a fact. 2. what is that thing wrapped around her?? I assumed it was a sling or something, but her injured(?) arm is free to move around. It seems like it could be a bag or bandages, but the former doesn't make much sense and it looks a little too leathery to be the latter

Return of the Ollie and our first look at Pianosaurus in a trailer. The light in part of his mouth makes me curious. His keys seem to have distinct colors and looks more like an injury. Maybe he gets hurt at some point and that's what's on the inside?

Had to grab the transcript since these are Two captions and I have enough images here as is. Anyway, this is an interesting exchange and use of names(or lack thereof). I'm not sure who the first one is, but the second sounds a lot like Poppy. But shouldn't the captions have just said that? It could be a tape, since those captions don't label who's speaking. But they never explicitly hide it either. Something's up with this

And that's just how the information is presented to us. What's actually being said is a whole different discussion, but I have no clue where to start with this

Now to talk about Doey and the thumbnail for the video. This guy is directly stated(both on twitter and in the description) to be helping us and thank god. All the play-doh falling from the ceiling could maybe pass as creepy(I'll admit, my horror senses are kinda broken), but his actual appearance? I saw the thumbnail and was expecting the worst because even Poppy looks more unnerving than him. But as an ally and not a source of horror? I like him, his design is simple and neat. His first lines get the gist of his personality down(the "hiya there" possibly being what he was meant to be for the kids, while "follow me" is a more mature and real tone) and I can't wait to see what happens with him. As long as the scares involving him are kept to minimum

[possum-quesadilla]

New Lonely Remnants chapter, “But you see, it’s not me, it’s not my family”, is here! Please read the warnings before proceeding!

Here are the extras!

- The lyrics for this chapter’s title are from “Zombie” by The Cranberries! Heheh, zombie. It is meant to be from the Shoggoth’s perspective as it sees all of these memories and is disoriented by them.

- “There were other various items as well; a few faded colorful thread friendship bracelets, a raggedy old plush cat, a few colorful rocks, and many more buried under the photos.” - The friendship bracelets were mostly from his twin sister, but one of them was one Lydia made for him when they first met. The plush cat is his favorite childhood stuffed animal (his name is Binx!), and the rocks are from all of the various national parks he’s visited.

- “That stack seemed to be a bunch of family get-togethers. Dozens of kids and adults having cookouts, dressed in similar formal outfits. Photos inside and just outside churches, many people smiling brightly at the camera. Lydia found herself softly frowning as she and Barbara both leaned in close on either side of Adam to get a good look. “… is that… his family?” ” - Lawrence was part of a large extended family that met up often, and went to church together every Sunday.

- “The one on top seemed to be someone taking a picture with.. Lydia thought maybe an old Sony Cyber-shot in a mirror, their face primarily obscured by the camera. They seemed to be wearing dark baggy clothes, posing awkwardly with a peace sign from their free hand.” - Lawrence got that camera for his 13th birthday, most of the photos in the box from that point on were taken by him! It stopped working, but Emily insisted on keeping it for the memories. It’s in her office at Lydia’s house.

- “Bella. Her name is Bella.” - Readers of both my fics, yes his twin is this universe’s version of Bela! She is very fundamentally different in this fic. She and Lawrence were inseparable before he left. They never fought or anything, he just left without a word. She never really found out what happened to him.

- “It was a very young Lawrence, posing in front of a roadside sign that read “Now leaving Louisiana”. It was obvious he was the one holding the camera. His hair was cut horribly choppy and short, with random longer patches and a horrible purple dye job. His eyes were glassy, and he had deep bags and dark circles prominently under them. He had one small tattoo on his arm as opposed to the many he later had, his nails were painted black as per usual as he held up his free hand in the universal ‘rock on’ sign, and he was sticking his tongue out, revealing a tongue piercing.” - He is 16 here, the day of him running away! He cut and dyed his own hair, did his own stick-n-poke tattoo, and even pierced his own tongue. Don’t do all that, folks.

- “ “… Juno got loud. Belligerent. More so than usual.” It reached out to fidget with the end of it’s tail, wringing it in it’s hand. “I-.. he-… Lawrence always had a smart mouth. Knew it would get him in trouble, but I-… he did it anyways.” Lydia saw his shoulders begin to lightly shake. “She grabbed the clothes iron. It hurt… so bad.” ” - It won’t really be specified in story what happened, so I will say it here: Juno was drunk as per usual, but so was Lawrence. Juno was saying rude things and Lawrence kept talking back. Juno got angry and decided to burn him with a clothes iron. He immediately packed his bags and left.

- “… couldn’t stay another second after that. He knew he’d die if he did.” - GOTCHA WITH ANOTHER “I Saw The TV Glow” REFERENCE!

- “There were many of what seemed to be Lawrence on the road for a few years. Pictures of random roadside attractions, at the signs of various towns, of him at bars and concerts and even camping in national parks. His hair varied in style and color, and dark circles were always present under his eyes. A concerning number of the photos had him with a bottle of half-drunk cheap vodka in his free hand. His clothes were always raggedy, and he always looked at least a little bit grungy.” - He didn’t have very much money, but what he did spend was on hair dye, tattoos, and alcohol. Hence why he was always dirty and in old clothing. He briefly joined a band and toured with them, but ditched them after a year or so to keep drifting.

- “One photo had him proudly showing off a bright green binder in the middle of a crowd of colorfully dressed people, his smile more genuine than it had been in any of the previous photos.” - Baby’s first Pride!!! He was 20.

- “Someone who sounded rather… sassy, let’s say.” - It’s Otho. I don’t know how to politely describe the way that man talks. It’s movie Otho, btw, not musical Otho!

- “… always were the most… potent out of all of us, little brother.” - I wonder what this means? Hmmm. Also misgendering wtf Otho

- “With that, the man turned on his heel, clacking away in his pristine black dress shoes until he rounded a distant corner. The sounds of his footsteps suddenly halted then.” - Otho teleported away once out of sight. Our Shoggoth can do that too! If it had enough energy and harmony with it’s host, which it does not.

Tag list: @raineisinkless @c0zmo-writes @musical-fiend @katslitterbox

(Want to be tagged in future updates for CorpseJuice / LoopJuice? Let me know!)

[xhollowfaerie]

The Viper & His Fangs

a/n: I've had the worst Viper x Rook brainworms lately inspired by @trash-nerd and @kindlyfeline so I ended up writing a lot of my SD Rook's backstory with him. This is the first of a bunch of these so if you enjoy, there is more!!

tags: Viper x Rook, Shadow Dragon former slave elf Rook, tw for mentions of abuse, blood, ptsd, Viper training Rook, fluff, hurt/comfort

-

“That’s more than enough, Kore. You did good.”

Ash had a lot of experience interacting with survivors, he knew the many ways people coped; how they reacted, how their behaviour could shape itself as a defense mechanism.

He could tell that Kore’s was something awful. His heart tore itself to shreds as he watched the blood drip from her nose and mouth. She bared her bleeding teeth at him, snarling as she got up from the floor. She was so frail, covered in fiery streaks of lightning; he could swear they glowed purple at times, whenever she got really angry - like she was right now. She tightened the blood-stained wrappings around her arms, returning to the stance he had just taught her, guard up, form perfect, despite shaking with exhaustion. The bags under her eyes were such a deep plum, the shade itself worsening the hollows of her cheeks. Her appearance painted such a painful picture, it was becoming increasingly difficult to steady his own emotions.

“Again.”

There was a fury in her voice - not at himself, he knew, but towards her own weakness; that wasn’t what he perceived it as. Ashur thought Kore was one of, if not the strongest person he’d ever met. She had a beautiful flair for rebellion - the embers of a spitfire burning bright inside her heart. Unfortunately, that also led her to be reckless - and her tortured upbringing amplified it by a thousand.

“Kore-” “A.gain.”

He regretted the half-baked swing he took at her almost immediately - she was barely well enough to stand, let alone react in time, tripping over her own legs trying to block. Her arms desperately attempted to hold onto the formless air around her as she fell with a loud thud, soundlessly arching in pain. He immediately rushed to her side, but she hissed and held a hand out to stop him.

“Again.” “No-” 

Kore got up in his face, barely scrambling to her feet as she wiped some blood from her nose. She remembered herself, kneeling helplessly, overtaken with pain and drowning in her own tears. Weak. Vulnerable. Her voice echoed her abuser’s, screaming angrily at Viper.

“AGAIN!”

“How about we take a break first, then we can-” “NO!”

Viper couldn’t help clicking his tongue in frustration; there was no conceivable way he was going to lunge at her again, not in that state-

She cut his thoughts off by launching at him instead. Her attacks were feral, sloppy - it was incredibly easy to dodge her and grab onto her wrists, twisting them behind her back as he secured her in place as she struggled in his grip.

“Kore. Please. That’s enough.”

Kore managed to jump high enough to bash her head into his chin, sending a reverberating wave of pain throughout his teeth and skull; his hold lessened, choking out a “wait-” before she elbowed him in the stomach. His abdomen - hardened from years of training - took the hit head-on with little to no effect, Kore’s eyes widening as he held her again, whipping them around to back her against a wall, one arm on each side of her, towering above. 

That look she’d never seen in his eyes before sent a shiver down her spine. They sat like that in silence, Ashur painfully watching her hazy eye blink as the room undoubtedly spun around her; after he was sure she’d calmed down, he gripped a piece of his cloak in between his teeth, using his hands to tear a sizable chunk off and softly asked for permission before dabbing the drops of scarlet away from her face. A deep wave of resentment seeped through his bones; intimidating her? - he wanted to punch himself in the stomach. 

He may still have a lot to learn about being gentle.

“You’re doing amazing. You’re getting better. But you can’t keep improving if you don’t rest, Kori’athdhea.”

Contrary to Ashur’s impression, the elf felt surprisingly… safe? as he hung over her. She didn’t know what that word meant just yet; all Kore knew was that his shadow over her figure offered her comfort; like he was shielding her from the world. She finally permitted her eyes to slide to a close, dropping her head against his chest with an exhausted murmur. Her survival instincts finally lessened their grip on her throat. “Viper. Too nice.”

He let out a small sigh as he let her rest against his chest, grinning as the blood off his teeth showed itself through the gap of his lips.

“You can rest now. We’ll pick up where we left off tomorrow” his low voice persuaded, despite him having no plans of training her again for at least a week, not until her body gained some semblance of strength first.

She fell asleep like that, standing, slumped over him, breathing so softly he hastily placed two fingers to her jugular to check her pulse in horror before exhaling with relief.

He noticed the torn fabric of his cape interwoven between her fingers, held to her chest when he softly picked her up, taking her to her bed. Ashur called a healer to check on her, leaning back against a wall with his arms crossed over his chest, watching over her. When they were done, he pulled a blanket over her as gingerly as possible, watching the elf sleep peacefully with a feeling he refused to name.

“You’re so much stronger than you know, Kore.”

He blew the lamp out with one swift exhale before occupying the chair by her bed, making himself decently comfortable and pushing his hat over his eyes. - Months later.

SMACK.

The staff rattled as it hit the hard floor, rolling away from Kore's body. She didn't whimper; didn't groan in pain, didn't flinch. Her laboured breathing was so subdued out of a long-trained fear of being perceived, she was barely making any noise, barely providing any evidence of her beating heart.

She turned on her back, blinking towards Viper's concern hovering over her. “Kore - we can stop. I don't want to push you. Are you hurt? Here.”

His gloved hand stuck out for her to grab onto.

Her eyes narrowed towards her staff. Too far.

Before Viper's lungs could fill with the breath he was taking in, Kore's body coiled upwards, parting her legs; with a hefty push from her arms, she launched herself upwards, wrapping her legs around his neck. She tightened her grip around him and jerked him forward with all of her strength, muscles trembling from overexertion. Viper was tall, well-built, heavy. He was also caught off guard enough to go tumbling, groaning as he hit the ground. 

As the adrenaline wore off, her eyes widened in shock. She wanted to unwrap her legs and back away, rushing to apologize - but Viper let out a laugh and tentatively tapped her thighs, asking her to lessen their grip just enough for him to breathe as he let out a strained chuckle. “Oh, you're getting good. Attagirl.”

Her whole face flushed, crawling backward as she untangled herself from him, offering a hand to help him up, muscles tense. He could always do what she just did. The threat never came. Instead, he took her hand in his, but barely put any weight on her as he got himself up, dusting off his outfit.

“I'm sorry” Kore mumbled shyly. “Don't know. Why I did that. Never want to. Hurt Viper.”

Viper shook his head, reaching to place a very gentle hand on her shoulder with a small wink. “Because I taught you well, if I do say so myself. And because you're the best damn Dragon I've ever met.”

A small, green bud of happiness glanced up at him, her other eye always closed, as if the scar running from beneath her eyebrow to the top of her cheek held it locked. Or maybe it was her shame.

“You didn’t hurt me, promise. Don’t worry.” “Viper also! Didn’t hurt me.” “We’re two tough Dragons, huh?”

She let out the smallest giggle, and he felt his heart punch a hole through his stomach.

“Viper. And Kore. Two tough Dragons!”

He picked up her staff and handed it to her, fingers brushing for just a moment. She tensed up and bashfully held it close to her, looking away.

“We save. Minrathous. Shine bright.”

“In aeternum, Kore. We will save Minrathous.”

She left him with a little bow, heading for the washrooms. Viper threw himself down onto a wooden chair, leaning his head back against the brick wall, as if the impact would somehow snap him out of whatever daydream he was in. He tried to shake the feeling of her thighs around him, of the sound of her voice. Of all the moments they shared. The guilt that weighed on him, crushing his ribs more and more with every passing day his burning love for her reared its head, gnawing at him worse than any archdemon Thedas had ever faced.

“Vehendis, Ashur. Get a grip…” 

[quietlyimplode]

the language of flowers and silent things

Whumptober 2023: Day 19 - A floral bouquet

Warnings: child abuse, nightmares

Word Count: 1.7k (gif not mine)

Summary: after Clint proposes, they both need time to recover and recuperate.

A/N: this is completely unread, forgive the mistakes bound to be embedded. I don’t have the energy to read it though.

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

.

2011

IOWA

Recovery time is granted as a courtesy and requirement. It sets Natasha’s teeth on edge but even she can see that Clint needs it.

She wants the next assignment, the almost dying part not really phasing her. She’d almost died many times before.

If she was a cat, she would have used her nine lives by now. It doesn’t mean the panic for Clint doesn’t permeate into her dreams.

She dreams that she can’t breathe, and wakes up gasping, when she gets back to sleep, she watches Clint gasping for breath.

She performs CPR only to break his ribs and watch him die anyway.

It’s disconcerting and always results in her focusing on him sleeping into the hours of the morning.

He comments that she looks tired, but she always retorts that he does too.

.

There’s a cabin south of Iowa, he invites her to, she knew he had it but they’d never been able to go.

The dainty log cabin smells musty when they arrive, but as soon as it’s aired out, Natasha takes in all the details.

Surrounded by trees, the cabin is four rooms, a kitchen and main room all together, a bedroom and a bathroom.

There’s wood everywhere; bow and arrows on the walls, and a shot gun for good measure. He watches her surveil the place and stands in place, waiting for her assessment.

“Whatddya think?” he smiles.

“Did you make these arrows?” she asks in awe, touching them and continuing to look around.

“Yeah,” he nods, “the bow too.”

The wood fire sits inert and Clint promises to light it at night.

“Come for a walk,” he offers, taking her hand and leading to her to the door, “the weather is good and we can gather some wood.”

Natasha smiles and grabs her jacket as they head out.

The lake surrounds, birds chirping and flowers line the path they take.

It’s renewing in a way she’s never felt before; maybe that the air feels fresher than in the city, and whilst since they’d been released from hospital, breathing had been a little more labored, it feels like it can loosen off.

“Pick some flowers,” Clint prompts, “I’m going to get some twigs and kindling.”

It feels like an odd request, but Natasha follows it, starting with small flowers, pink ones that have tiny petals, she then finds some white ones, cutting them cleanly with her switchblade. She moves away from Clint and finds other flowers, longer ones that look like bells, the purple blending with the others as she traverses around the lake.

The yellow flowers spread everywhere, and she chooses them more selectively. Large petals, and smaller cone shaped ones.

As she heads back up the incline, Clint calls for her to come over.

“This one too?”

The delicate blue wildflowers were small, easy to pick and went well with the bunch that Natasha had picked

“They were my mums favourites,” she smiles.

She holds the bunch up for his approval and he smiles.

“Perfect,” he tells her.

They walk back, conversation easy, light gossip and commenting on the world around.

“Do you think it will storm tonight?” Natasha asks.

Clint shrugs, opening the door and allowing Natasha to enter first.

“Maybe, depends if the temperature drops, then you’re in for a chance.”

They both go about unpacking some food and Natasha starts cooking and cutting vegetables.

He sets about lighting the fire then puts her flowers in water and smiles as he places the forget me nots to the front.

“Tell me about her,” Natasha asks, “your mother? What was she like?”

There’s a beat of silence before Clint acquiesces.

“She loved nature. I think we would have got an animal if it wasn’t for him. I think she knew that if we did it would become another thing for him to destroy or use against us, but she made it up in other ways.”

He moves to the kitchen to help her, grabbing a carrot and chewing on it.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t —“

He waves her off.

“Nah, I want to, otherwise she just lives in my memories, and I’d like her to live in yours too,” he smiles, crunching down.

“She had brown hair, maybe a bit shorter than you, smart but in a clever way. Not book smart I think, as she struggled to read, but the way she could deduce and read people was easy. It always made me wonder how she ended up with my father.”

Natasha turns the portable gas heater on, and passes him the chicken for cooking.

“Did she like to cook?”

Clint laughs.

“No, not at all, we would eat the same thing over and over, meat and vegetables, or potatoes; there were lots of potatoes.”

He takes onions and places them in the pan.

“Barney liked to cook,” he says a bit more softly, “he’d take over from my mother when my father wasn’t home. He loved making sauces and mixing flavours.”

The sizzle on the chicken is loud and so the next words feel more for him than anything else.

“He found Barney once, cooking with my mother looking on, yelled and ranted that it was women’s work. He threw the hot saucepan at him and burnt him across the arm, here,” he says gesturing to his forearm.

“Barney still liked to cook, but was just more careful about how he did it after that.”

Natasha stands next to him.

“I’m sorry,” she tells him.

“It’s okay, I was telling you about her, not him.”

Clint puts the next piece of chicken on the small fryer.

“She liked stories, any stories. So I’d tell her them from school, also, Gus; he had the best stories, so I’d tell her them too. I think she liked to think about them, maybe they helped in some way.”

Natasha takes over the fryer, motioning to the cooked meat for cutting.

“She could be forgetful, and told me things usually more than once, but I didn’t mind. She had the kind of voice that when she spoke you’d listen regardless of what she was saying.”

He stops cutting and thinks.

“I think she would have liked you,” he says generously.

Natasha looks to the pretty little flowers.

“Yeah. I think I would have liked her too.”

.

The distinct smell of the wood fire brings Clint out of his nightmare. The disorientation makes him freeze on the spot dampening his breathing so that he doesn’t wake Natasha.

He ruminates on the images the dream produced, the dodging of beer bottles before one caught him, the way he was small and his father was big, and his mothers face, blood coming out of her mouth and the familiar bruise covering her cheek and throat.

He sorts the images and finds the truth in the lies, then separates it further, smelling and grounding himself with Natasha’s gentle breathing and the smell of the fires.

He’d hoped talking about her would be cathartic, and in a way it was. He’d just not anticipated the memories it produced.

He sighs wanting to get up but knowing it would wake Natasha.

If they get married, he’s not going to become like him. He’s not his fathers son, he is his mother’s though.

He pulls out his phone and googles how far it is to visit her and settles back down with a plan for the next day.

.

The grave reads Edith’s name, the date of her birth and death and words that read ‘beloved mother’.

The fact that she has a headstone at all is something Natasha can’t help but comment on.

“The circus helped us pay for it, it came about a year and a half after her death, maybe 6 months we’d both been there. We agreed to work for free to get it done.”

Gently, Natasha moves the moss and Clint pulls the weeds around it.

It takes them some time but they clear it and make it neat in its appearance.

Natasha pulls the little bouquet of forget me nots she’d picked and places them down.

Clint hugs her and they stand side by side in silence.

.

The ride home is comfortable, soft country music playing as Clint taps his finger to the beat.

“Do you think my mother has a grave?” Natasha asks, a question she’s never thought to think.

Clint reaches across and holds her hand.

“I hope so,” he says, squeezing it.

“Maybe she had a sister or someone to lay some flowers at her grave too,” she hopes.

Clint nods.

“Maybe she’s hanging out with my mother, wherever they may be.”

Natasha smiles, then laughs.

“They’d tell lots of stories to each other I think,” she says.

“My mother would like that,” he nods.

“Are you okay?” Natasha asks, squeezing his hand.

“I know you had… dreams last night, but do you think this will make sleep hard as well? Can I do anything?”

Clint shrugs.

“I don’t know. Maybe? Nothing you can do, but maybe we can play a game or watch a movie together before sleeping.”

He sighs.

“It’s been a long day.”

Natasha nods, opening the window then closing it with the smell.

It breaks the mood and he laughs.

“Cows are certainly an acquired smell,” he grins.

.

“She liked magic too,” Clint offers, the movie finishing.

“Can I show you some?”

Natasha feels a curl of excitement.

Giving him her full attention, he produces a bunch of flowers.

It makes her burst out laughing.

“Can you do it again?”

He pulls a coin from her ear and then makes the flowers disappear again.

She takes the coin and rolls it over her fingers.

Clint nods in approval.

He smiles again.

“One more.”

From her ear, he produces two rings.

“I know we were dying, and that you may have just said yes—“

She doesn’t even let him finish.

“I want to marry you Clint Barton,” she tells him, taking the rings off him and examining them carefully.

Both of them thin, one with a red ruby and the other larger in size but just as thin, the metal infused with a purple hue.

“They’re for us, like your necklace, no one has to see them.”

He loves that she puts it on straight away, kisses him again and then tries to imitate the magic trick.

“Teach me,” she requests, “show me how to do magic just like you do.”

.

[noa-de-cajou]

"Worst", or Ether's Heartbreak Playlist Part Two

Mort, Cassandra and Nru belong to @corneille-but-not-the-author

Content warning for some nsfw, and a bunch of slutshaming as well as a lot of talk about accidents. And Leonova, as always-

It looks like a storm passed through here. It's just as quiet. I couldn't find the strength to clean up the broken plates so now I'm bandaging my bloody foot on the bathroom floor. Leonova's words are ringing through my head.

“You’re no better than me.”

“Where did all your pretty principles go, Ether?”

“I thought so. I knew it. I knew you were just a whore. You'd really do anything to get off, huh?”

“I’m sure Khaliun will be enchanted to know about this.”

“Oh, and don't even think about running away from me, or leaving, because if you do, then I'll make sure the whole hospital knows.”

Khaliun. She's going to tell Khaliun.

And I know it's not empty threats. The first time we broke up, I had to change banks because her dad owns the one I was originally in.

I guess I had it coming. If I had just been honest from the start, this wouldn’t be happening. It's just hard to be honest when the person you did something with keeps pretending nothing ever happened.

And maybe Khaliun wouldn’t have minded, but Leonova… Leonova would have killed me.

I almost thought that she was actually going to, earlier.

I feel like smashing those plates was almost worse.

(Write it in gold

It could be retold

But the ending gets old

They say you learn to know

When it's time to go

Like a sick joke)

I look everywhere for Pluton and end up finding him trembling under the couch. My poor baby. He looks terrified. I thought I was doing him a favor by taking him in but I guess I wasn't. I carry him to my room, get into bed. The bed where I made a dumb, stupid, idiot mistake.

It had started off relatively well. We were walking home from the cinema with Leo. We had argued after the movie, I don't remember why, then we made up just as quick. But the air was thick. Electric. I knew where it was going to end up. As soon as I closed the door, she pinned me against it, and one thing led to another, the clothes on my skin became fabric on the floor, it ended on the bed. The kisses were angry, the bites were hungry, the hands grabbed my thighs and dug into my flesh and I asked for more. With Leo, it's useless to try and take the advantage. I let myself go and I take. Which isn't something I hate doing at all, on the contrary.

But my mind was elsewhere. I wasn't mad anymore. I didn't want to be mad. And the images I thought I could repress and bury far, far away just took over. And it all got mixed up.

Into something far, far worse.

Oh I could be your friend

Or I could be on my back

I could beg or I could bully

I could brace you for impact

Red eyes lightning up with desire (Purple eyes upon me, a little blurred but full of want)

Fists tearing off my shirt (Soft hands under my sweater)

The noise of teeth biting on my piercings (Glasses falling from her nose and onto the table)

The same teeth under my jaw (Kisses on my neck)

Nails grazing and digging (Fingertips everywhere on my skin)

Short hair under my sweaty palm (Long dark hair falling from her shoulders and brushing my face)

And a whisper (among scattered breaths)

“My name. Say it. I want to hear you say it when you come.”

I wasn't sure who the voice belonged to. I just knew that I wanted to do as she said. I didn't know who “she” was anymore.

Who did I want the person above me to be?

I did exactly as I was asked. I said it.

Danger crushes, pushes my buttons, forces me to agree

Danger's a slut, it's in my gut, at night it whispers to me

""You fucking liar, your desire, baby bunny, come clean""

""You want me bad, you want me back, but you don't know what that means"”

It took me a while to get back to reality. But when I did, I nearly jumped.

Leonova's eyes were ice cold.

“Mort, huh?”

Couldn't have done a worse thing if I tried.

I could be a purity to ruin

Corrupt for you to restore

I could be anything anything anything

But yours

The wrong name.

All it took was the wrong fucking name. I barely had the time to get dressed before she started to yell. I didn’t want to lie, so I just blurted out everything. And now, here I am. Lying in bed, alone, everything ruined because of a single word.

Called in sick to work. I can't sleep but I close my eyes anyways. The functional one is burning. Wet with tears. Pluton meows sadly and curls up on my pillow. My sobs are louder than the purring.

It's 9am when my phone rings. Khaliun. Fuck. I pick up.

“Hi,” I say, my voice hoarse.

“Hey,” she says, her voice far away. “Leo came to my place. Said a bunch of stuff. About you…”

I listen to the rest of the words but I already know what's coming. I see the cliff collapsing and I'm standing right on it.

I wait for her to finish talking, then I whisper,

“It's true.”

On the other side of the line, there’s only silence.

I expected shouting, crying, something. Anything.

“... I’m gonna need some time to myself to think, Ether. Alone. Catch you later.”

Anything but this defeated, hollow voice.

This is so, so much worse.

Someday, someday

When I burst into flames

I'll leave you the dust, my love

Hope a bit of it'll be enough to help remember the

Days when we came to this place

I told you I'd spill my guts, I left you to clean it up

I'm burstin' out of the–

My phone dings. 7:15am. I haven't slept but I haven't moved from bed for hours. I kicked Pluton out some time ago because he kept chewing on my pillow. I hold out my hand, it feels like it's made of lead.

A text from Mort.

“Are you okay?”

Oh. Right. I haven’t been to work yesterday. I guess I worried her.

“I’m fine”

The reply is short. I don't have the energy for more. Let's just hope she won't dig too much into it.

Another ding.

“I'm in your building’s lobby. I just got out of guard duty. Will you allow me to come up?”

I freeze. What do you mean she's downstairs? Freshly out of guard? Shit. Shit…

I can't hide this from her, can I?

I guess I can’t run away from this one. And…

And I feel so alone.

“Door’s open. If you wanna”

There. I put down my phone again.

Soon enough there's a knock at the door. I sit up on the bed, clear my throat.

“You can come in…”

My voice sounds terrible. She’s gonna be furious. Well. I had it coming.

I guess it could be worse.

Dancing slowly in an empty room

Can the lonely take the place of you?

I sing myself a quiet lullaby

Let you go and let the lonely in

To take my heart again

I open the door to the living room. My foot hurts when I put it down. Mort's here. Holding Pluton. Looking straight at the broken plate on the floor.

“Hey… Careful, you’ll hurt yourself.”

My voice is foreign. Every time I speak a word, it feels like I’m wasting air. It’s worse when I breathe.

Mort turns around, her eyes fall upon me. She doesn't say anything. But I know she sees everything. My messy, dirty hair. My swollen eye. My worn-out clothes. My bandaged foot. She looks so exhausted too. And yet all she asks is if I have something to clean up the debris.

Why isn't she commenting on how I look? Of how much of a fuck-up I am?

Hah. Who am I kidding. She already knows that. She’s the one who found me in that morgue and I'm the one who behaved like a desperate slut. She knows I'm a mess. She just pretends not to.

I'm the ghost of a girl that I want to be most

I'm the shell of a girl that I used to know well

“Leo… Leo knows. About us. About what happened in the morgue.”

Mort turns around.

I can't look at her. I can't do anything but apologize. She must be disappointed. She must be furious.

“Ether. Can you come closer, please ?”

I obey. She might hit me. Throw another plate at me. I’d deserve it. After everything I put her through, I wouldn’t blame her. I've been awful. If it makes her feel better, I’d let her do anything, I’d-

She wraps her arms around me. Holds me tight. When the confusion passes, I realize that she’s shaking. She’s not mad. She’s scared. She has so much more to lose than I do. Her job. Her income. Her reputation. Everything. She’s trying to comfort me but she's holding onto me more than she’s actually holding me. So I hug her back. Softly. I let a few tears escape.

I need to be strong. To be here for her. Even if I may be the worst thing that ever happened to her.

Too afraid to go inside

For the pain of one more loveless night

But the loneliness will stay with me

And hold me 'til I fall asleep

We sit on the couch discussing what to do. There’s not much we can do, to be honest. I can only wait for Khaliun to get back to me, and Leo…

Mort tells me it's an agression. What happened. But I asked for it, didn’t I? I deserved it. For what I did. And yet…

And yet I still don't regret what happened that day. Not in the slightest. I’m happy Mort was the one to come looking for me. And I don't wanna lose her too.

When I say that, I can see her tense up even more. Trying to hold it together. Trying so hard to fix everything.

But she's not the one who broke that plate. Why should she cut herself on the pieces? It’s my responsibility. Not hers. I should be helping. She's the one getting dragged into this mess because of me, because of us.

And when I tell her there's no better moment to let go, to finally show how she really feels, I can see the mask break. I can see the pieces fall. The way her face deforms under the tears that she finally lets out of her eyes. It breaks my heart. It breaks my heart to see her like this because I know I did this.

Yet I hold her. I hold her in my arms and cradle her and say that I'll find a way, that everything will be okay, that we will be okay.

I barely believe my own words.

Broken pieces of

A barely breathing story

Where there once was love

Now there's only me

And the lonely

I blast AC/DC in Mort’s car on the way back to the hospital. She lowers the volume. We joke around a little. Like everything’s normal, somehow. Like she hasn't been crying in my arms and eating my omelette that tasted like tears on my couch. Like I'm not dressed up with my worst clothes. Like we're not sitting right on our mistakes. Our one-hour mistake in the morgue. The greatest mistake I've ever made. The worst blessing I could ever receive.

I'm on the highway to hell

Highway to hell

I'm on the highway to hell

Highway to hell

Don't stop me

Damn right we’re on the highway to hell. But when I look at Mort, at her puffy and tired eyes, I think that the devil has some twisted sense of humor to bring her down with me. When my jokes make her smile, I feel like it pushes the fire a little further away from us. Away from this car. But fire catches and it's going to reach us once we stop.

And eventually, we have to stop.

Mort parks the car. We stay silent. She avoids my gaze. I’m scared. Some dumb part of me thinks about reaching out to hold her hand, but I know it’s a bad idea. Is it for my own comfort or for hers? I don’t know anymore. The closer we get to Salem’s office, the more knots I get in my stomach. When we get there, she asks me to leave. I obey.

Mort still won’t look at me, even as I leave and close the door.

It’s fine. That's normal. They need me in the unit. But I want her to need me a little too. It’s so fucking dumb. Selfish to bout. This isn't just about your little ego, Ether.

A voice rings painfully in the back of my head. It sounds like Leonova's.

“You’re the worst.”

My face is full of spiderwebs, all tender, yellow, blue

And still with one eye open, well, all I see is you

I left my daydreams at the gate because I just can't take 'em too

Know my heart still has a suitcase, but I still can't take it through

I go back to work. Talk with some patients who just had an abortion. Some of them need to talk about contraception, so that it doesn’t happen again in the future. Some need to eat, or cry a little, say that it wasn't the right time yet but that they wanted it, they wanted it so much. I listen to them, I say kind words, I'm back into my area of expertise. They need a doctor. They need someone professional. That I can be, despite everything.

When I'm done, I go get some coffee. The lack of sleep is really catching up to me, but it’s barely 4pm, can’t go dozing off now.

Then Salem comes back, jaw clenched, face pale. Never saw her like that. Did the talk with Mort go wrong?

“Welcome back. You okay?”

She stops right on front of me, inhales sharply.

“Ether. Mort’s in the ER. She got into a car accident.”

…

Mort. In an accident.

(It was an accident)

Mort in the ER.

(Coma for three days)

Mort. Hurt. Injured. Maybe badly.

(I’m sorry, the boy –)

Salem’s words barely reach my ears.

“She probably fell asleep on the drive back. I should have brought her home, I knew she was exhausted.”

Exhausted.

Exhausted because I worsened every situation she was in. Exhausted because I couldn't repress the thoughts in front of Leonova. Exhausted because I dragged her into my problems.

Exhausted because of me.

(Because you couldn't hold yourself back)

This is all because of me.

(You never change, do you?)

Because of me because of me because of me because of me

(It’s your fault)

Things always get worse when I'm around always always always

(You shouldn't have survived.)

My

Left Arm

Hurts

There's a dry thump and a splash when my goblet drops to the floor.

Then everything goes dark.

Black hole opened in the kitchen

Every clock's a different time

It would only take the energy to fix it

I don't know why I am

The way I am

It's dark. It's cold.

I can't breathe. My words only come out in silent bubbles. My arm hurts.

I try to swim back to the surface but something’s weighing me down. Something pulls me deeper into the Abyss. Someone holding my left hand barely hanging onto itself.

I turn my head. It’s him. But it's not just him. It’s also Dal. Leonova. All with the same accusatory stare.

Don’t. Don’t look at me like that. I know. I know that everyone would be happier if I had been the one to die. But I wasn't.

And now I want to go up to the light but you won’t let me.

Their faces all mix into one. Purple hair, piercings, freckles, a fake eye. Soon-to-be seventeen year-old Ether, looking into my eyes with so much anger and so much fear.

I know. I know. I don’t want to die either. I’m sorry I can’t help you swim back up.

All I can do is hold you to ease the pain.

I am drowning

There is no sign of land

You are coming down with me

Hand in unlovable hand

And I hope you die

I hope we both die

But there’s hands. Reaching out through the water surface. Grabbing me. Pulling me (us) out into the sunlight. Faces, smiling, worried. The light blinds me, their faces are blurry, but I can hear their voices. Some sound like my parents. Or my sister. Another sounds like Doctor Claro. Like Salem.

Like Khaliun or Mort.

I can’t say anything. Everything hurts. My face is wet with cold water and hot tears.

But I breathe. And breathe. And breathe.

The worst thing is that I think I'm smiling.

I'm not ready to face it

Don't go saying goodbye

There's a beauty in changes

And I wanna try

“Ether. Ether, can you hear me?”

My eyes shoot open. Salem’s face hovers over me, a worried expression twisting the corners of her mouth. I'm laying down on my side on what I think is the guard room bed. Salem sighs deeply.

“Thank god. You really scared me there.”

“What…happened…?” I try to ask, weakly.

“You collapsed in the hallway, that's what happened. I think you lost consciousness for a few minutes.”

Oh. Only a few minutes?

“That’s it. Both you and Mort need a break from all this. You’re getting the week off.”

“But… Leo… She’ll come to my flat…”

“I’m taking you to my house. There’s more than enough room and I'm not taking no for an answer. Understood?”

I nod. Too tired to protest. The worst is that I don't really want to.

And there's nothing I can do

Not much I can change

So, I give it up to you

I hope that's okay

There's nothing I can do

Not much I can change

I give it up to you, I surrender

I wake up in the evening in an unknown bed, Pluton curled up at my feet, my bag on the floor. A ceiling with an old, kitsch lampshade hanging greets me. Salem’s house really feels like a grandma’s. I’m grateful she drove me home first to get my stuff and my cat.

I've been having nightmares. I don’t feel too rested, but I get up. I need to get busy.

Shower taken, clothes changed, I walk into the living-room. Salem’s there.

But not alone. There’s three cups of tea on the coffee table.

Cassandra and Nru are sitting on the couch. They both look awful. Cassandra’s eyebags are eating up her face and she stares blankly at her drink while Nru seems like she has stopped crying only a few minutes ago. They raise their heads to look at me and there's a sudden pang of guilt in my chest.

“G-Good evening,” Nru sniffles.

“Hi, Ether,” Cassandra mutters in echo.

Fuck. Their voices sound so tired. Can't blame them. Their mother’s in the hospital, and…

(You should have been in that car)

…

I’m sorry, it should have been me

I’m sorry, it should have been me

“Hi, girls. I’m… really sorry.”

They both stare at me in confusion. Right. Of course. They wouldn't know what caused that accident.

Salem clears her throat.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah. I’m just… going back to work. Need to keep busy.”

She frowns.

“Ether, it’s nine in the evening, what did I tell you about resting–”

“If I don’t go, who will stay with Mort?”

I blurted out the words. Salem’s eyes widen in surprise as I keep going.

“I don’t want her to be alone when she wakes up.”

(Like I woke up alone and confused and scared and cold)

“Please. I’ll promise I'll go rest afterwards, just let me do this. I beg you.”

She looks at me pensively for a while, then sighs.

“Well. Do as you like. It’s not like I can stop you. But if you overwork yourself again, then you’ll hear about it. Are we clear?”

“We are,” I reply as I get my coat on.

“Hey… Miss Ether?”

I turn around to look at Nru.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Her smile is faint, but genuine. I smile too. Hoping that it doesn't show how much I wanna cry.

“You're welcome. I’ll take good care of her. Promise. You two rest easy, okay?”

I put my shoes on, close the door behind me. Fresh air. I breathe in, and out. It’s okay. It’s okay. I need to be strong.

I pull out my phone to see the itinerary. There's a text from Leonova.

“Well? Not answering your door anymore? Scared of the consequences of your actions, honey?”

Of course she came back. But this time, I'm not scared. I’m angry. So I text back.

“I have better things to do than talk to you right now.”

It’s not like this shit can get any worse.

My undying love, now I hold it like a grudge

And I hear your voice every time that I think I'm not enough

There isn't much to do in the gynaecology unit. One of my colleagues is already on guard duty. She looked surprised to see me. Apart from tidying a few tools and files, I quickly find myself with nothing on my hands. So I go to Mort’s room after asking at the reception.

My hand is shaking on the handle as I push it down. Afraid of what I might find. Yet I've seen horrible things. Corpses. Infected genitals. Crying teenagers. But suddenly, this is what I'm afraid of.

She's… asleep. Her body is covered in little cuts, probably due to the glass shattering. There’s a bandage on her forehead, probably where they had to stitch her up. She's pale, but her hand is warm when I take it. I look at her closed eyelids. The purplish eyebags under them. The bruises on her skin. I can still smell the blood on her, but she looks so peaceful.

A nurse comes in around midnight, tells me the details. Minor concussion. A few stitches. No fractures, a miracle. No surgery needed, either. That's a relief.

She asks me if I want to stay for the night, I say yes, I'll just sleep in a chair. She smiles and nods before leaving. I'm grateful for that. A lot of nurses would have just kicked me out.

I focus my attention on Mort again. Her hair is spread out messily on the pillow. She usually takes such good care of it, it's weird to see. They'll get damaged if I leave it like that… But she's asleep and… well. Nothing much to lose here.

I slowly gather up her hair, take a few strands in my hands. She doesn't wake up. Good. I start to bread the hair, gently. It’s dusty, there's dried blood in it still, but I can at least make it look pretty. It takes me a while since her hair is super long, but the result isn’t too bad. She hasn't moved an inch during the whole process. It's almost scary. I push some hair away from her forehead. Hesitate.

Fuck it.

I lean down and kiss it, right next to the bandage. Her skin is warm under my lips. Then I whisper in her ear.

“Hey. You better wake up soon. We’re waiting for you.”

She should be out of danger. But she’s so still and pale. Maybe she doesn’t want to wake up, and I couldn't blame her. But I don't want her to go just yet.

I can't think of anything worse than her dying right now.

This world is a wasteland where nothing can grow

If it weren't for you, I'd be here all alone

I know in my heart this is where we belong

This world is a wasteland

Don't let me go, go, go, go, go, go, go

A hand is caressing my hair. Softly. It’s nice. My neck hurts, must have fallen asleep…

Wait. Mort.

I open my eyes. She’s here. Looking at me. Smiling faintly. And her fingers are still in my hair.

“... Mort?”

I blink, to make sure that I'm not dreaming. She doesn’t disappear. Her eyes are moving to mine. She's here.

“You're awake,” I whisper. I could cry with relief.

She has a little, unusual laugh.

“The morphine has to still be in effect… I feel way too good.”

It makes me laugh too. At least she's not in pain. I slowly sit up, rubbing my eye, and suddenly she grabs my hand, sitting upright in the bed, fear glinting in her eyes.

“You’re… You're staying… aren’t you?”

I…

I don't think I've ever seen her like this before.

I put my other hand, my fake one, on top of hers. Even if it can't feel much. This time I don't have to force a smile.

“I'm not going anywhere. Promise.”

She sighs. Falls back against the mattress. She looks better. The fact that she’s moving and talking and breathing helps.

We talk. She asks me what happened. The other driver. Bazyli. Didn't think I’d see him again after all this time. I just tell her he’s okay. She wants to look at herself in a mirror, so I give her the pocket one I use to fix my make-up when I wear any. She looks at herself for a while, then says, with a lot of irony,

“Well, I have quite the good profile.”

She does. She's still beautiful. But that wouldn’t be really appropriate to say, would it? For now, I'm just glad that she's here. Talking. Even if we're gonna have to discuss what happened eventually, it’s still something. I smile. I joke around. She’s too tired to deal with it, but she doesn't hold it against me.

She isn't mad at me. It’s more than I can ask for. So I try to push down the feelings. At least for a while. I can't, shouldn’t want more than this, and yet I do. Even as everything is still going to shit and the end to our problems is still so far away. Even as I'm the cause of all this, I don’t want to ever let go of her hand.

Heh. I really am the worst, huh?

If you changed anything, would you not have survived?

You're alive, you're alive, you're alive

And I know you don't remember calling me

But I told you, even then you looked so pretty

In your hospital bed

I remember you said you were scared

And so am I.

Songs in order of appearance :

Sick Joke – Xana

I Can Be Your Mother – Sofia Isella

Cacao and Cocaine – Sofia Isella

Ashley – Halsey

The lonely – Christina Perri

Highway to hell – AC/DC

clementine – Halsey

Not Strong Enough – boygenius

No Children – The Mountain Goats

Wasteland – Royal and the Serpent

Heat lightning – Mitski

Should Have Been Me – Mitski

the grudge – Olivia Rodrigo

The 30th – Billie Eilish