#hook's inlet

[dragoneyes618]

I bet Harriet and CJ are stealing from the shop as well. They're just better at not getting caught.

Also just the thought of the shenanigans they must get up to in there. Whose idea was it to let all the Hooks manage a business? (Captain Hook's, that's who.)

[richardlawson]

The End

After a few years away from that particular couch, I started seeing a new therapist at the end of last year. It had been long enough, I sagely determined, after I was felled by a series of really nasty panic attacks—one happened while I was doing a Q&A on stage with some filmmakers. They didn't notice, nor did the audience, nor (most importantly) the publicists. But it was happening. Me contemplating running off stage, into the Soho afternoon. It was a terrible feeling, and eventually feeling terrible starts to be a drag, so I found, after a fair amount of searching, someone new.

He is in his late 50s and has a kind, open comportment. He's much more giving and lean-in-and-nod than my last therapist, a sort of prim and watchful gay guy who retired to Florida. I like this new gay guy, I think. Or, I am warming to him. At first, I thought his platitudes and constant quoting of various people were corny. But I have resisted such sentiment for so long, and lack of sentiment hasn't cured me, so maybe I should try the earnest stuff. He has me meditating for one minute a day. The panic attacks went away.

For a little while, anyway. They've been creeping back, when I least expect them, and when I most do. I am afraid of what I am afraid of, I hate what I hate, I feel increasingly indifferent to what I love. Winter hardens care. Do I like movies anymore? Do I like a play, seen on some chilly Saturday afternoon? Maybe it's just seasonal. Or it's media malaise in a time of such austerity. They're trying to lay off the best people while the worst people watch, safe as houses. They're trying to take the whole thing apart and replace it with nothing. I have worked in my business for 16 years, well over a third of my life, and for the first time it now feels truly dire and terminal and like I need to start making other plans for what to do with the rest of my time here in the waking, working world.

Something I talk about a lot with my therapist is inertia—I use the word constantly. Why can't I just, why can't I just, why can't I just. I know something's in me, latent under my lazy skin, but it never makes its way to the surface. At least not yet.

Which causes panic, this stasis. I am scared of the drugs that might help, and am resistant to other concrete life changes that might make this better. (I like a glass of wine too much; I'm a fan of my vape.) I have tried avoiding things, I have tried not avoiding things.

I guess it's not circumstance, really. I have panic attacks when I'm home at night, Andrew asleep in the other room, me watching some murder show or YouTube video (same thing) and suddenly a feeling hits me, the conviction that a blood clot or some other lurking thing is making its way up my body and that this is my sorry, lonely little nighttime end. Here it is, the moment when I'm carried off, when I disappear, when I slip away into nothing.

My parents just finished a cruise, a lifelong wish fulfilled, in South America, hooking around Cape Horn and then exploring the fjords and inlets of Chile. All the reports were good. They had the best time. I had worried about my mom itching for her work email, about my dad being newly 90 years old and maybe feeling exhausted by all the activity. But it seems they managed well. They saw Patagonian cities, they saw mountains rising out of the sea, they saw the shy, retreating edges of glaciers, so quiet and demure in their dying. My mom sent us pictures and I thought most about the glaciers, those last cracking murmurs of a time before. When I was in Alaska for a wedding, years ago now, we went to a park of some kind and the visitor's center that was once built over a glacier then stood cantilevered over dry land. The ice had crept much farther up the mountain, winking goodbye.

How awful. And yet, in the depths of my hypocrisy, I relish an unseasonably warm day. Whatever lifts me out of winter, I guess. Whatever can drag me out of the feeling that everything is indeed going to ruin—a career, a life, a liver, a future. My best friend moved out of my neighborhood recently, which is sad. But it also affords us the opportunity to explore new territory, to find backyard bars with good deals where we can huddle in forgiving late-winter winds and make uneasy escape plans, where we consider what parachutes could ever be made of.

It's not always enough, of course. I too often have nights, far too late, when I go pacing around the living room, circling the coffee table in a weird sort of marching step in my underwear, shaking my hands to get the dread to go away. My new therapist has urged me to find what centers me. To think of all that is known and steady.

I try to gather myself and remember the people I have, arrayed across the planet. Andrew, in restless sleep down the hall. My sister in her Los Angeles canyon, surrounded by trees. I walk the room, knees high and somehow defiant, chest straining with worry. And I see my parents, on a boat at the tip of the world, dreaming of lost things.

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

Isle landmarks

Port - divided in between three crews, heavily regarded as a very unpleasant area by, well. Almost everyone else. (Important to note: this goes for every single area of the Isle.) Lives at night a lot.

Jolly Roger of Captain James Hook

Scattered Hope of Captain Harriet Hook. Comparatively safer to be around, you might find some goods "accidentally left out" if the Captain's feeling it.

Lost Revenge of Captain Uma Triskelion. Safest of the pirate ships unless you are allied to Mal or insult Uma. (...You know what, I take that back.) Also, it's a cult.

Chipp Shoppe. Firmly under the rule of Lost Revenge.

Hook's inlet. That's a fancy name for a building that port adults go to pass out in by the morning at that brings substantial money to Captain Hook. (His kids are not allowed to work there. They kept stealing from the counter more than they sold.)

Serpents prep, aka the school Captain Hook was forced to fund after dr F refused to deal with two if his children at once. They've got sea ponies and surprisingly good curriculum.

The centre. Counts as, well, semi-neutral territory?

Tremaine salon. The only actual neutral territory on the Isle. You see, if you fight by the Tremaines, you won't get your hair done. (this works because the Villains and their kids are vain as fuck and value their style over their lives. Literally.) Also, Tremaines treat most of their customers as particularly annoying cats.

Mad Maddy's Apothecary. This could count as neutral territory but Mim's are playing favourites. One rule: Do NOT make out in the Apothecary.

Rose Garden of the Queen of Hearts. Yeah no. Do not go near if you like your life.

Dragon Hall, AKA the school Dr Facilier funded for very innocent and inconspicuous reasons that have nothing to do with the other Villains owing him for babysitting their brats and molding the young minds to his picture, how dare you even suggest that.

The Arcade. Funded by Dr F too and operated mostly by his daughters. Also no ulterior motives on this one. (If little kids don't come to school, they're at Arcade. It's always good to know where the kids you're paid to keep alive are.)

Storm Hall. A mostly abandoned building slightly off-the-centre that Isle kids use for official gang meetings.

Frollo's church. Later, it's ruins. The building has suffered from entirely natural structural instability ever since the first Isle kids learned what matches are. While Frollo's alive, it's unsafe to be around if you're a girl, person of colour, or of magical heritage.

Yes, there is a problem of Frollo's being entirely too close to Dragon Hall. Dr F had it under control! Really!

The Market. Yeah. Market. With very reasonable prices that are not theft at all.

Maleficent's Bargain Castle overlooks the market and her goblins provide security for shopkeepers who are willing to pay a steep price. No one's sure why Maleficent tolerates the market so close, she hates people.

Jafar's Junk Shop. If you lost something, there's like seventy percent chance it'll end up there. I've got nothing else to add.

Gaston's Duels Without Rules, slightly off the main market. And yes. It is without rules. Do not ask about the blood under the dumpsters please.

Hell Hall. Few streets down but still close enough, you'll know by the screaming. Close enough for Cruella and her minions to get the finest fabrics whenever she wishes.

Witches Academy. Yes, it is entirely too close to the market for how flammable the stands are. However, the Mims are doing what they do best and being bitches on main.

Landmarks

The End Of The World. Steep cliff on the off-side of Auradon, favourite hang-out spot for Isle kids. Who says they hadn't spent hours there looking into the waves and contemplating life, they're lying.

The Skull Rock. On the Isle for Reasons. Y'know, a generation of kids robbed off their childhood? Magic banned off? (The Isle of the Lost is Neverland and it's your problem now.)

The Jungle. No. Do NOT. You do realise that's where all the tigers and snakes and lions and wolves dwell. Also called the Zoo by kids who like dark humour and/or have a deathwish.

The Caves. There's an entrance to Hades' cave somewhere. Do not try to find it (unless you are Celia Facilier), he's on vacation and doesn't wish to be disturbed.

Other

Castle Across the Way. Is not close to the centre or the market to be counted as such. That's because the Evil Queen refused to interact with the commoners and looked substantially scarrier than Lady Tremaine while communicating that.

The Hun camp. Do NOT attempt to find it.

[hannahhook7744]

The Hook Family in my au (including their 'partners', pets, and next gen) Moodboards (Part 1);

Past:

Zarina Hook.

First wife of James Hook.

Bio mother of Peter Pan, Harriet Hook, Harry Hook, Calista Jane Hook, and Ally Liddell (she was adopted by Alice and Pinocchio in this).

Stepmother of Ginny Gothel.

Adoptive mother of Hannah Hook.

Daycare teacher and worker at the Hook's inlet and shack as well as at Hook's Clock & Curiosity Shop.

No one is quite sure how old she was when she died because she's a fairy.

Severin 'Bluebeard/Le Barbe Bleu' de Montragoux.

Husband of Lucretia 'Great Grandmumsie' Hook.

Father of Adelais 'Mama/Grandmumsie' Hook I.

Pirate and Aristocrat who murdered his first six wives and got murdered by the seventh.

He was around 47 when he died the first time.

He was brought back with everyone else when the isle was created and was killed again in year 11 when he was 58 years old by his wife.

Present:

Lucretia 'Great Grandmumsie' Hook.

Wife of Bluebeard/Le Barbe Bleu/Severin de Montragoux.

Mother of Adelais 'Mama/Grandmumsie' Hook I.

Pirate and rich widower whose husband was 'lost at sea' (she still has his ship).

She is around 100 (no one knows how she's still alive).

Adelais 'Mama/Grandmumsie' Hook I.

Mother of James and Jasper Hook.

Ex-Wife of Davy Jones and 'Friend' of Nanny Nell.

Former teacher at Neverland Academy of Pirates and Mermaids (which has been renamed to Neverland Academy).

Current Teacher at Serprent Prep.

She is around 80 years old physically.

Nell Frost.

Childhood nanny of James and Jasper Hook.

'Friend' of Mama Hook.

She's around 80 years old physically.

Davy Jones.

(Alleged) Father of James and Jasper Hook.

Pirate captain.

Ex-husband of Adelais 'Mama' Hook.

No one is quite sure how old he is.

Captain Jasper 'Patch' Hook.

Oldest son of Adelais 'Mama' Hook and Davy Jones.

Partner of Arabella Smith-Hook.

Father of Atticus, Ian, Greyson, Nevin, and Morgan Hook.

He works at the Hook's Clock & Curiosity Shop and he's also a pirate captain.

He is around 60 years old physically.

Arabella 'Bella' Smith-Hook.

Partner of Jasper Hook.

Mother of Atticus, Ian, Greyson, Nevin, and Morgan Hook.

She works at and owns the Lucky Bride tavern.

She's around 55 years old physically.

Captain James Bartholomew Hook.

Youngest son of Adelais 'Mama' Hook and Davy Jones.

Bio father of Peter Pan, Ginny Gothel, Harriet Hook, Harry Hook, Calista Jane Hook, Ally Liddell (she was adopted by Alice and Pinocchio in this), and Hope Hook (future).

Adoptive father of Hannah Hook (now), Hort Hook (future), and Hookling Hook (future).

Works at Hook's inlet and shack & Hook's Clock & Curiosity Shop.

He is around 50 years old (give or take) physically.

Lady Hock.

She is a villain recruiter for the Hook family (mainly James) and also babysat the kids when they were younger. She also works at Hook's inlet and shack & Hook's Clock & Curiosity Shop.

She is rumored to be related to the Hooks in some way but no one is quite sure how or if it's even true.

She's around 35 years old (give or take) physically.

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

Next up will be more of the present Hook family members and after that will be the pets and future Hook family members.

[haee-elia]

spence-tober: day 15 - fisherman

pairing: fishermen!spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: in which your husband finally gets to teach your daughter his trade

word count: 1307

warnings: very kid-centric, mentions of pregnancy, commercial fishing, hobby fishing, and scaling fish

spence-tober masterlist

Despite being on a generations old, rickety boat that has seen better days, you considered the scene in front of you one of your favorites.

Being married to a fisherman was interesting to say the least. You had to get used to your husband, Spencer, smelling like fish all the time. You quickly realized that most food you eat was going to be seafood. And you had to fight your initial fears and get on the boat owned by your husband that he used to go out every day and fish.

And it wasn’t like fishing was a hobby that your husband did often, no, it was his occupation. So yes, finding a laundry detergent that would cleanse clothes of the fishy smell was a necessary venture. 

You’re probably luckier than most. You grew up with your father who was an avid fisherman and you were actually just beginning as an assistant dockmaster at a marina when you had first met Spencer who docks his boat at the marina when not in use.

The way you met Spencer was always a great story that did well with other fishermen or anyone hanging around the docks. It was your first day at this specific marina and hadn’t realized they had just powerwashed the dock when you slipped on the wet metal and had almost fallen, while heading towards the office at the marina. 

Spencer, almost like a fairytale prince, had caught you by your waist, keeping you from falling and hitting your head. He was dressed in overalls and dirty fishing boots, having just finished gutting some fish. 

You didn’t start dating right after you met, but with you working as the assistant dockmaster and with him departing and arriving at the dock every day, you had slowly gotten to know each other and then started dating after a few months. 

Now, six years later, Spencer was still commercial fishing for the area and now employed a small crew to help. You had been promoted to dockmaster and managed the marina and the comings and goings. You both had also moved in together, got engaged, got married, and had your daughter in the last six years. 

Your daughter, the perfect combination of you and Spencer and all of four years old, was standing with her father near an open end of the boat so she could see over in the water. She had a life jacket on, of course, and a small kid sized fishing pole in her hand. It was red, at her insistence.

“Alright,” Spencer said, talking to her on her level. He’s crouched down with a life jacket on as well, afterall, your daughter had argued that if she had to wear one then he had to as well. “I’ll place a little piece of bait on your hook and then you’ll cast it out. Remember what we practiced.” He reminded her.

She eagerly nodded her head and watched her father with a smile as he snuggly put a small piece of bait on the hook of her pole. 

It wasn’t her first time ever on the boat, in fact, you had carried her on when she was just six months old, cradled small to your chest as you and Spencer relaxed in the breeze from the ocean. However, this was her first time fishing on the boat and Spencer had determined it was finally time to teach her. 

“Now what do we do?” Spencer asks her with a look of complete and utter adoration towards the small girl. Ever since she had stepped on the boat and you all had sailed towards a small inlet, Spencer has had one of the brightest smiles you had ever seen on his face.

“Fish!” Your daughter exclaimed, nearly swinging the fishing pole right at your husband.

He didn’t mind, just moved his head out of the way as he laughed and nodded.

“That’s right.” Spencer replied. He switched his position to be right behind her and helped her small little form cast her fishing pole perhaps three feet right in front of her in the water.

Still, they both cheered.

Your daughter looked back at you, in a comfortable chair with sunglasses on, a life jacket (it would be unfair otherwise), and your kindle. 

“Mommy look!” She said in her adorable squeaky high, excited voice.

“I see, babygirl!” You say to her, “You did such a good job. Now you have to wait for a fishy.��

“Fishy!” She repeated after you with a loud giggle. Her grip on the pole was light and probably would have fallen right out of her hands if not for Spencer’s hands on it as well.

You knew Spencer had been dreaming about this moment ever since you both found out you were expecting. Since then, he’s always been planning on when and how he would teach his own daughter to fish. After all, Spencer always tells you of his three loves. His daughter, you as his wife, and the art of fishing.

“Daddy where’s fishy?” Your daughter asked, quickly turning her attention to her tall father.

Spencer uses one of his hands to carefully grip her hands around the pole and the other to point into the water, “Fishy is in there, sweet bean.”

Bean, a nickname coming from what you both called your daughter when you were pregnant and before you had known the gender. It was fitting as well, since your daughter was on the smaller size when born. 

“I catch fishy.” Your daughter says, confidently, in a matter of fact tone.

Spencer smiles widely and you sneakily bring your phone out to film the sweet moment between father and daughter.

“Yes, you do, sweet bean.” He confirms, pressing a kiss onto her unruly brown hair. 

She giggles wildly at the action, “And you catch fishy.” 

Spencer nods, “I do catch fishy, lots of fishies.”

“We eat fishy.” She also says.

Fishy was her first word, much to Spencer’s delight. However, she did say mama before dada so that was a win in your book. 

Spencer nods again, “We do.”

Even so young, you and Spencer had done a good job about teaching her about how fish are caught and eaten. It became imperative to teach her this when her daycare read her The Rainbow Fish and she had exclaimed loudly to the rest of her small class that they ate fish. That and how before she was in daycare, she often joined you at the marina where you worked and would quite commonly see large buckets of fish on ice or men and women scaling them right on the dock. 

Her cute doe eyes turn to her dad, “We eat my fishy?” She asks, her bottom lip wobbling.

Spencer shakes his head hesitantly, “We don’t have to eat your fishy, sweet bean.” He confirms.

While Spencer went out and fished every day to bring back and sell, when he would hobby fish on the boat he often let go what he caught. 

Her face lit back up again, “Yay!” She cheered.

She kept her attention on her dad, “But no keeps.” She affirmed.

Spencer nodded and she cheered again for remembering her father’s teachings. “No keeps.” Spencer repeated.

Another thing the two of you had taught her was the different between pet fish and fish you caught in the ocean. It was a confusing pet shop trip, but Spencer has always been incredibly patient with her and eager to teach her all about fish. 

As you settled into your chair and kept your phone camera on your small family, you’re reminded of the years spent with your husband and with your daughter.

“Fishy’s pulling!” 

“Come on, sweet bean. Reel it in!”

“Fishy! Mommy look!”

“I see, sweetheart, you got a fishy!”

Yes, these were definitely your favorite days.

a/n: i was feeling a little burnt out writing so many of the same scenario of meet cutes so i mixed it up a bit. i know kids aren't for everyone, but this really refreshed my creativity for the rest of this October so enjoy!

[abbatoirablaze]

Matched, Elle, Chapter 2

Word Count:  2.2k

Warnings:  cursing, mentions of being hit, being punched, being pistol-whipped, being drugged, noncon relationship. 

“Fucking bitch!” he growled as he continued to rub the bridge of his nose.  Your delta couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched Lloyd glaring at you, “Shut the hell up, Bobby.  What are you even laughing at?  She could have just as easily did this to you...”

“But she didn’t,” he smirked as he crossed his arms over his chest, “because I’m smart enough to know when to give a woman her space.”

“I know when to give a woman her space,” he mocked angrily, sneering at you once more, “yeah, well did you know she had a mean right hook?  Jesus, I think she broke my fucking nose.”

“If you bothered to read her profile when we got her back, or even the first time we matched her, then you would have known,” he pointed out, “she was the reigning quadrant champ in her weight league when she was younger for boxing.”

“Oh, look at me, I’m Bobby and I know everything,” Lloyd mocked once more, “fucking prick.”

“He’s supposed to be my alpha?” you teased, giving the delta a look. 

Bobby snickered and Lloyd shot the two of you another look of rage.

“I’m not a whiny little sigma bitch if that's what you're insinuating,” he spat, “I’m an alpha.  A pack leader.  And I take what is rightfully mine.  That includes you, Elle!”   

“We’ve been looking for you for a long time...” Bobby added in.  He ran a hand over his buzzcut length hair, and you found yourself wondering if he’d done that recently, “We’ve been looking for you a very long time, Ellie Bear.”

Your stomach twisted into a knot, “Wh-what did you just call me?”

“Ellie bear,” he said in a softer tone, “is that a name that you don’t like?”

You shook your head, tears springing to your eyes before you could stop them, “no-no, it’s-my family used to call me that...I-no ones called me that in years.”

“What did they call you?”

“Whatever,” you shrugged, pulling on the sleeves of your worn down jacket, “I-you don’t get friendly enough with people and be able to stay on the run for as long as I was...and it’s better to disguise yourself as a boy so there’s less questions in general.  The quadrants don’t care about another inlet boy.”

“Well, you’re not on the run any longer...” he said with a sad smile, “you can come home to us, and we’ll take care of you...”

“Yeah, we’ll take care of you really good, Ellie.”

“Don’t call me that,” you hissed, “don’t call me that name.  I didn’t go by it for nine years when I was on the run from you and-“

“And now that you’re not on the run, you will go by it.  Because it’s your name, Elle,” Lloyd spat, speaking up, “speaking of how much time you managed to waste by avoiding us, they’re going to collar you.  Least until we’re sure that you won’t run again.”

Your heart rate spiked as you looked between the two men, “What?  C-Collar me?  But why?  You know where I am.  I-you two caught me...”

Lloyd smirked, a smug look crossing his features, “what?  Don’t like that we can’t trust you, princess? Or you don't like the thought that now you can't outrun us again?”

“I-“

“Get over it,” he growled, “because of your little stunt, they’re going to be all over you like white on rice. And so will we!”

You felt the anxiety dwelling in the pit of your stomach at the thought of being collared. 

When you were younger, you’d seen it a few times, mainly on at-risk women who were likely to run away. 

And girls from the inlet who wouldn’t be able to score high enough for a well-to-do man, but who’s parents needed money, so they were sold for the first four years to pleasure houses to pay their family debts.

“I-I can’t be collared,” you said quickly, rising from your seat.  You rushed Bobby, putting your hands on his chest.  His shirt wrinkled underneath your fingertips, “P-please.  I can’t.  They-that’s too demeaning.  You can’t let-“

“Not up to me, sweetheart,” he frowned sympathetically with a shrug.  He pulled a cigarette from his back pocket and lit up, inhaling deeply before tucking the pack back into his pocket, “that decision is on our alpha.  And if Lloyd can’t trust you, neither can any of us. And then it’s what it is. It's happening.”

You looked once more to Lloyd as Bobby exhaled, the cloud of smoke enveloping you. 

And a new, bitter taste filled your mouth as a new level of his smug aura filled the small intake space.

“Wanna get on your knees and start begging, cupcake?” he asked with a shit-eating grin, “prove you wanna be with us, and I might just let you pick out a designer collar instead of one of those ugly basic things.”

“You’re disgusting!” you spat, glaring at the man.

“Oh, I’ll win you over one day,” he smirked, “we scored too closely on our tests for you not to fall in love with me.”

“No one could ever love you,” you rebuked, “keep your delusions to yourself, alpha.”

“You know, I almost regret pistol whipping you and knocking you out to get you back to HQ...until those pretty little lips open up...and god, when they do, part of me wishes I could do it all over again,” he said, before narrowing his eyes. You caught Bobby shooting him a glare, but he chose to ignore it, “think I might ask if they’ll allow me to muzzle you too.  It’s rare, but who knows...you are very high risk now that we’ve got you back. Run away once already...who knows what lies you’d spew to get away from us.”

Your jaw twitched, “you wouldn’t.”

“Try me, pumpkin.”

You nearly stumbled over the threshold of the large home.  Bobby gave you a sympathetic look before turning to your alpha, “is all of this really necessary, Hansen?  She seemed civil enough in the intake room with just us...”

“I don’t trust her!” he said simply, before pulling on the leash once again, “come on, angel...we’re already late enough because you bit the tech who put the collar on you.”

You huffed under your breath, and he gave you a smile, “what was that, princess?  I couldn’t hear you over the muzzle!”

Your eyes narrowed at him, and he chuckled.

“Are you two going to act like this for the rest of our lives?” Bobby asked. 

Lloyd shrugged, his moustache lifting ever so slightly as he muttered a soft, “depends on her...she gives us some brats as insurance, maybe she’ll lose the collar and muzzle and leash...til then...that’s on each of you when you have your private time with her.”

Your eyes widened ever so slightly, and Bobby shook his head, “it’s not what you think, Ellie.  I-“

“Oh, it’s exactly what she thinks,” Lloyd smirked, “you see, Elle, we have a special little set up here...each of us have a wing in the house where we can utilize it however, we see fit...my goals are great sex and a few brats...you know, be a real family man...probably make Johnny, Charles, and Jefferson raise em, but that’s a problem for another day...Bobby here is surprisingly up for filling this fucking place with his little bastards too.  See, nine years ago if you’d have met him he was on my page...just wanted a good girl to drain our balls and keep the halls quiet...but that pack he turned in before you did a number on him...he got a little taste of being an alpha when he found out about that sigma fuck imposter and he had to play my role...ever since then he’s been daydreaming of dipping his dick in that sweet little honeypot of yours and coming out with a houseful of little carbon copies.  Charles is all about his ego, so keep sucking his dick dry and he probably won’t notice there’s silence in his wing.  He wants a prim and proper lady and thought he had it in you with your hoity toity government family, but he’ll be in for a shocker when he sees just how wrong he was.  And as for Jefferson and Johnny...well, they are both a little squirrely and up for anything.  Could charm the pants off anyone, but they’re pretty fucking useless otherwise...honestly, you could probably get either one of them to turn off the lights and suck good old Chucky boy dry and spend some more time in my bed if you really wanted to.”  

You groaned, your stomach turning at the thought of spending any alone time with the man who was designated as your alpha. 

Bobby chuckled when he caught your reaction, “I’m sure she’ll cherish all the time she has away from you, Lloyd...just like the rest of us do.”

“I’ll remind you that I’m your alpha,” he grumbled, following the delta further into the house, “and I-“

“WELCOME HOME!” two of the three remaining men cheered when you three rounded the corner.  They had been blowing noisemakers and waving around ribbons, but stopped when they saw how Lloyd was leading you in.

“What the actual fuck?” Jefferson asked, his brow quirking at you as the noise maker fell from his mouth, “what did you do to her, Lloyd?”

“What did you do to our flower?” Johnny asked, rushing you. 

You immediately went to take a step back, but stopped when the leash kept you in place. 

“Oh my god, what happened to your face?” Jefferson asked as he turned his attention to Lloyd.�� Lloyd sneered at him.

“Alright, back it up, Jefferson,” he grumbled, “what happened was that I claimed our little princess here and brought her home to us once and for all.  You’re welcome!”

“Everyone...this is Ellie...” Bobby smiled proudly, “she beat the shit out of Lloyd when he cornered her.”

“Jesus fucking christ,” Charles grumbled as he downed his drink and put the rocks glass back on the counter, “this is what we waited for and she’s fucking feral!”

“She-she’s just a little rough around the edges, Charles...” Jefferson tried, giving him a soft look, “give her a chance.”

You frowned as he picked up the bottle of scotch and started out of the kitchen.

“I’m going to be in my wing if any of you need me,” he grumbled, not bothering to look back as he disappeared down the hall, “call me when she learns how to speak English and act like a woman and not a beast.”

“He uh-he’s been a little moody since he was pulled from his last match.” Johnny tried to apologize.

“You’re not supposed to tell her about that!” Jefferson hissed, hitting Johnny in the arm.  Your eyes snapped to Lloyds, the conversation replaying in your head.  He averted your gaze.

“Look, we all said yes,” Johnny said quickly, as he undid the leash and pulled off your muzzle, “we could have said no when Lloyd approached us about being pulled from our matches, but you are the highest any of us have ever scored, and-“

But you had immediately turned your attention back to Lloyd, a new anger pulsing through you, “YOU RIPPED THEM ALL FROM OTHER MATCHES?  YOU SAID THEY ALL FELL APART!”

“Hey-stop hitting me-CUPCAKE-STOP IT!” he yelled, “BOBBY!”

Bobby wrapped his arms around you from behind and you tried to fight him off, but he was too big. 

“PUT ME DOWN!” you squealed, “Put me down.  I-“

You were muzzled once more when Lloyd ripped the device from Johnny’s hands, “you fucking idiot.  She didn’t know any of that.  This is why you need to think before you speak, Storm.”

You were fighting in Bobby’s arms, and your hair was in your face, but you didn’t let that stop you.  You could hear fumbling from beside you as Johnny apologized to Lloyd and Jefferson asked him, “What are you doing?”

A pinch in your arm made you kick even harder, if only for a second before a warmth flooded through your body. 

“This is why I said no parties,” Lloyd spat angrily, “I knew that she’d be damned near feral when we found her.  For fucks sakes, she’s been alone for nine years without any of us.  Bobby, is the sedative kicking in?”

“Yeah?” he nodded, the timbre of his voice softly lulling you into a darkness, “I can feel her heartrate slowing down...and she’s still squirming, but not as much.”

“Put her in your room for the night...but make sure that she’s tied down,” he huffed, “we don’t need her escaping us yet again.”

“Yeah...” You felt yourself shift in Bobby’s arms and suddenly you were seeing images of his face.    Pictures entered your mind of nine years ago when he had his long hair and aviators. 

Your hand reached up and you stroked his cheek and it was back to his buzzcut and sad eyes, “Pretty, pretty man...”

He took a sad, deep sigh, looking at you for a moment as he started down another hall, “it’ll get better, Ellie...it’ll all be okay, I promise.”

And then your world went dark.

Chapter 3

[praxcrown5]

The Nuts and Bolts of Car Reproduction: A Headcanon Hypothesis for the Vehicles from the Disney/Pixar Cars Universe

Today's essay will be explore my headcanon ideas for vehicle reproduction in the Cars universe.

Disclaimer: Tactful descriptions (and depictions) of vehicle reproduction. If this ain't your cup-o-tea...you've been warned.

This is a long post. Might wanna get comfy and grab a coffee or sommat. If you read to the end, there's some...artwork. X3

Auxiliary Disclaimer: The following headcanon is only for sapient vehicles. Non-sapient creatures like tractors, balsa thrushes, deere, cranes, coal scoopers, etc may actually be capable of reproduction without factory involvement. I might do a separate post for them at some point. For now, I just want to be clear that when I use the word "vehicle" I mean sapient vehicles only. I also headcanon that reproduction works a little differently for very large vehicles (passenger planes, war planes, ships, aircraft carriers, etc...).

Ok...how how do vehicles do the deed?

In my headcanon, vehicles are created in factories. The factories, themselves, are small city-states with their own cultures and populations of factory "born" and raised vehicles called "angels" whom serve "The Manufacturers" as part of "The Plan." Despite possessing technology that is thousands of years more advanced than anything in the outside world, the Manufacturers cannot create what they call the "flame of sapience." For this, they are dependent on their creations.

Vehicles achieve physical and reproductive maturity at age eleven, after their third, and final, growth spurt. Along with reaching adult size, and all the accompanying changes to the engine block and internal systems, they develop reproductive hardware. The bulk of the hardware is stored internally, and protected by a panel of sheet metal (coupling panel) which is separate from the surrounding body metals. It is usually located near the rear fender on the side of the body opposite the fuel filler inlet in cars and trucks. In larger vehicles like trains, planes, boats or helicopters the location of the coupling panel varies between makes and models...but it's usually located as far away from fuel storage as possible.

In visible light, the seams are so thin as to render the panel invisible. Most vehicles, however, can see farther into the ultraviolet end of the spectrum due to specialized structures within and behind the eye screen. A car checking out a potential partner would see the panel as a vivid purple (male) or yellow (female) square surrounded by magenta markings resembling ancient runes.

Fun (off-topic) fact: Vehicles also have manufacturer markings on their body metals that are only visible in UV light. A car can look at another car and tell right away what factory they were created by. There are model markings as well, but most people don't know how to "read" them.

Intimate encounters are known as "hookups," colloquially. Other terms that have graced local lexicons include (but aren't limited to) knocking fenders, cableing, parallel parking, long idling, carving your name into the steel fortress, tapping the socket, bringing the van to the carport, getting to know one's model, driving around town, packing the trunk, nosing around the garage, etc...

Most civilian-class vehicles are compatible with one another. For example, a car like Sally could easily hook up with most small planes and helicopters...but attempting the deed with anyone larger won't work due to hardware compatibility issues. Boeing and HII have been manufacturing step-down systems since the late 90's...but it's horrendously expensive, and still caters mostly to carrier-class vehicles.

Once two vehicles are committed to the idea of physical intimacy, they retreat to a place that's (usually) private and secure, the later being especially important as the post hookup, nuptial repose period can render them unresponsive for up to scoptersix hours.

Most vehicles adopt a V position when doing the deed so that they can see their partner's face, keep their mouths relevant, and have plenty of space to maneuver their hardware comfortably. Most also engage in various forms of foreplay, and advancing technology has provided additional options for adventurous couples.

The coupling interface, located behind the coupling panel, consists of two parts: The coupling array and the siring array (also called the auxiliary array). While the coupling array is used during every hookup, the siring array is only used if a couple is actively attempting to create a child.

The coupling array is identical for both males and females and consists of four, prehensile cables (coupling cables) located near the base of the interface. Each cable has a contoured, metal tip that rests in a depression on the back wall of the compartment. The body of the cable, all 20' of it, is stored internally. The cables lack fancy names and are simply numbered 1-4, with coupling cable #1 being the most anterior and #4 being the most posterior. Above each cable is a socket called a coupling jack. Like the cables, they are numbered, with coupling jack #1 being located directly above coupling cable #1, #2 above #2, etc...

An intimate encounter happens when two vehicles connect their coupling cables to another vehicle's coupling jacks, and vice versa.

While this sounds simple and straightforward, there's a lot of finesse that goes into the act, especially in regards to timing. The most intense pleasure comes from simultaneous insertion of a cable into an opposing jack...but the engine is necessary, too. Revving it at just the right moment, post insertion, generates a powerful surge of electrical energy which not only helps intensify and prolong the sensation, but also acts to charge special, battery-like bio-tech organs called "surgers." The penultimate moment of the hookup comes when the surgers reach full capacity. Revving ones engine or connecting another cable after this point will cause the surgers to discharge their accumulated charges into the combined neuro-electrical systems of the pair to avoid over exertion. Couples that manage to time their last engine revs/cable insertion with the pending discharge experience pleasure that's described as "out of this world," and they pass out as their sensory and electrical systems overload. During the nuptial repose, a specialized network of HV cables and cells collect and direct this excess energy into the frame so that it can be safely discharged into the ground through the tires.

At anytime during the hookup, a couple may experience full-sensory visions, called "nuptial dreams." In some cases it can feel as a vehicle has been transported into their partner's body, experiencing their memories of an event as vividly as if they had been there, themselves. Other times, people claim to have been transported to a parallel universe where they existed as strange, bi-pedal, organic creatures...

Use of the auxiliary array is necessary if a couple wishes to sire a child. This hardware takes on the appearance of a region of pins (male) and sockets (female) above the coupling array. In males, the pins mark the tip of an extendable HV cable called the "siring cable." Instead of discharging the excess electrical energy from the hookup into the ground, the siring cable redirects it into the female's body via the auxiliary jack. The auxiliary jack is connected to a bio-tech organ called the plasma condenser module. As its name suggests, it condenses the redirected electrical energy into a ball of plasma called a "flame," which is then transferred to a second, smaller organ, the plasma chamber, for storage.

Somehow, the factory network is alerted to the presence of the flame. How they know is subject of much debate. Some specialists hypothesize that the plasma chamber, itself, doubles as a transmitter...emitting electromagnetic waves on frequencies that can't be intercepted by modern technology. Still others believe that the factories can watch and listen to everything that goes on in the world through the eyes and windows of their vehicle creations.

Regardless, after an hour or so, the female will start receiving internal notifications telling her where to take the flame. One's make and model seem to have no bearing on the factory that will ultimately create the body for one's child. Doc, for example, was manufactured at the Hudson factory in Detroit despite his sire being an Oldsmobile and his dam, a Cadillac.

When the female reaches the factory, an angel trained in reproductive hardware temporarily removes the plasma chamber and condenser module so that their doctors can graft the flame to a newly manufactured body and "nurture it to functionality," a process that can take anywhere between 3 and five days, longer if the flame splits en route, resulting in twins. If she can't get to the factory right away, she can maintain the flame for about three weeks by doubling her food intake. Eventually, the energy is reabsorbed by the body and she'll have to repeat the siring process if she wants another chance.

Since this is already a lengthy document, I'll cover growth and development in a future post. In the meantime, enjoy some car sm*t. Pic depicts my two OCs, Sam and Annette (Annette being Doc's dam), in the midst of a siring attempt.

[usafphantom2]

SR 71 pilot David Peters's story: about the time they were flying out of Kadena Air Force Base, Okinawa, on a mission.

The SR-71 went up to around 35,000 feet and started looking for the KC 135Q to refuel their tanks in heavy rain, ice, and lightning. Suddenly, the KC 135 arrived; although it had difficulties, including frozen throttles, it was there when you needed it. An SR 71 never ran out of gas.

There are many stories of the loyalty, bravery and reliability of our Q tanker guys. This is a great one for sure. ~Linda Sheffield

Ed Bethart and I had one that relates to this story. We were flying a mission out of Kadena and it was definitely thunderstorm season. We were in heavy clouds headed to the tanker after takeoff, and as we got DF and distance contact,

we couldn’t see a thing.

As we closed in we had our 2000 ft altitude separation and at a mile had no contact. So we told the guys to recheck their altimeter setting because we were coming up a thousand and in 1/2 mile. They confirmed their setting and altitude and airspeed so we moved up and in.

Still nothing.

Restated the whole thing and that we would come up 500 and close to a 1/4 mile. Still nothing then like bursting through a curtain there he was right where he said he was. We closed for hook up and got contact. I noticed that I kept ducking my head beside something was hitting the windscreen. It was ice falling off the tanker.

I said “ hey Teddy (Ted Bittel) you have Ice coming off” about that time Ed says we are at 290 kts and descending. Of course, Teddy could hear that on the boom interphone, and he said yes, we have had the throttles frozen for the last half hour, so we are trying to get the speed up for when you get heavier. It all worked out and we got filled up. However, the weather was so bad, when we tried to climb out we hear very heavy turbulence, rain and lightning. Tried three times to accel but got violent unstarts each time.

I tried going to manual inlets to open up and try to make it but it just couldn’t do it so we ad to abort and return to Kadena.

In the debrief the maintenance guys came in and showed us that the wave guide antennas in the nose were gone totally eroded by the rain. Then Chief Kelly came in and dropped a 20 lb block of ice on the table.

He said it came from the flight control mixer quadrant.

So another of those stories where circumstances were incredibly difficult to lose the mission but not because our incredible Q guy wasn’t there for us.

Written by David Peters. ( SR-71 pilot)

@Habubrats71 via X

[loreofthelost]

VK Hierarchy

Due to Maleficent's position as ruler of the Isle, Mal is automatically considered at the top of the food chain. Mal first came onto the streets at 10 as an enforcer for her mother. As the years went on she made a name for self by being ruthless, Mal also started to put a gang together and went off on her own, Maleficent's territory slowly became more known as Mal's. Though Mal does still live in Bargin Castle and does report to her mother, however she has stopped being an enforcer and has made her own name for herself instead of just being Maleficent's enforcer. The Fae Syndicate is one of the most dangerous gangs on the isle and controls a large territory.

The Fae Syndicate is closely followed by The Burbers and the two Pirate Crews The Burbers are a large gang and they hold a lot of territory, they are lead by Yasmine daughter of Jafer and Jay's twin, Yasmine is a formidable woman who earned her place by killing the former leader of the Burbers after he broke sanctum. Her second is Hugo Rourke, who is know for his sheer strength and the fact that he is loyal to the bone.

Both Uma's and Harriet's Pirate Crews have a decent amount of territory, they also have access to the only fresh food supply and they control all the docks on the Isle. Uma's crew control the left side of harbour town from the dark cliffs and Ursula's to the barge docks in the centre of harbour town. They also stretch up enough to control some of the edges of the town proper. Harriet's crew control the right side of harbour town from the Jolly Rodger and Hook's Inlet to the barge docks. They also control some of the edges of the town proper

The Lost Children and the Merchant Punks are next, they garner a lot of respect and fear. The Lost Children, led by Anthoney Tremaine, because they are the oldest on the Isle and had to cut their place out, to be seen as more than just extensions of their parents, the Lost Children are also different because they only except those who were born with the first two years on the isle.

The Merchant Punks, led by Leo Silver, are a large gang with a large territory, they control the majority of the Bazaar and the shops so you don't wan to anger them less you lose access to most things on the isle. 

The gangs are mainly on equal footing though and as things like territory and supplies and allies are always changing there is no sure fire way to know who is better than the others, though all the gangs like to say they are the best.

[spectacle-street]

The Long Dark RP Ideas

I've been toying around with a backstory for my current survival character. I decided to make her a Forest Talker. It seemed like an intriguing and fitting plot hook and a good explanation for her presence on Great Bear.

Edith Ablecott, or Edi for short, grew up on Great Bear Island. Though she left for college on the mainland, Great Bear remained close to her heart, and Edi decided to return home after she graduated. Worried about mass industrialization and the ecology of Great Bear, she joined the Forest Talkers and found comrades in arms in the fight against environmental disaster. When the Auroras began, for some reason, Edi's group of Forest Talkers fought and splintered. Many of the Forest Talkers decided to find Perserverance Mills, or find a way off of the island. Somehow, Edith ended up alone in the woods, with only the clothes on her back, and some food. From there, it's been a fight to survive, but survive she has. Along the way, she's become ever more acquainted with the beauty and the rough edges of Great Bear. Having never been to Perserverance Mills, Edith has no idea how to get there (giving me a good roleplay reason for the fact that this map is not yet available in game). Instead, she seems to have settled in quite well along the coast and has even made contact with another person, a man by the name of Sutherland. Sutherland is willing to trade supplies with her, though trust is in short supply at the moment and he won't step foot on the island. It gets a little lonely, from time to time, but Edith has found a strange sort of peace in the solitude of her new life. The more she explores, the more she unravels the story of Great Bear, and the more she understands about her fellow islanders, the ecology, and the truths you can only uncover when it's just you and the wilderness.

Currently on day 40 or 50 something, I can't remember. Edith's hometown is Milton, so she makes a trip back there every once in a while. Her family home is the Paradise Meadows farm and when she's in the area, she stays there. It's quite well stocked as a result. I can feel Edith itching to check on it, but the presence of the Sutherland on the coast is keeping her from going inland at the moment. Recently had a harrowing trip to Bleak Inlet. Even on Pilgrim, that region can be really challenging. The one thing Edith (and myself) hate the most is having to scale cliffs and there's a lot of that going to and from Bleak Inlet. Nothing is more annoying and more exhausting than climbing up the sides of sheer drops, trying to carry everything in one trip that you absolutely need. It's what deters her from going back to Milton more often too. On the bright side, now Edith has the woodworking tools. Those will definitely be carried from region to region. I also recently discovered the wonder and beauty of Travois. I wasn't sure if I would like them, but after killing a bear, it was phenomenally useful for hauling meat back to Qonset. Seems like a big pain in the ass for inter-region travel though, not sure how to work out the logistics of that yet. I wish it was easier to use because I really wanna haul some stuff back to Milton.

[charlesandmartine]

Sunday 8th December 2024

Up with the kookaburras this morning to get ourselves into Airlie Beach bright and early for the boat trip around the Whitsundays. The sun was shining at 8am as we sat outside Woollies using their free WiFi along with all the other cheapskates! 26 degrees even at that time of the morning, and the forecast was good with a warning of high UV. Well, we had our creams, hats, and plenty of water. We passed the inspection and boarded the pickup bus, which arrived bang on time at 8.16 and the driver having checked our names on his list, proclaimed our presence as awesome. That made us feel so much better. Our fellow crew members were largely made up of people of a Chinese persuasion and immediately set about taking the necessary selfies.

Captain Cook first sailed through the Coral Sea on 3rd June 1770 among a group of Paradise Islands that because this was Whitsun, he named these Islands the Whitsundays. There are 74 islands that collectively make up the Whitsundays group. Our destination was the largest in the group, Whitsunday Island, but first, we squeezed between it and Hook Island and moored at Tongue Point, Hill Inlet to climb to a lookout which gave the most amazing views along the island and to our afternoon stop, Whitehaven Beach. This beach is known as one of the most beautiful in the world. The sands are almost pure silicon, which squeaks as you walk upon it, but their most noticeable feature, of course, is that it will be one of the whitest beaches you will ever see. Once the Chinese paparazzi had completed their selfies and yielded the viewing platform to the next subsection of voyeurs, us, we were absolutely amazed by the panoramic views across the bay, across the low tide sandbanks of pure white silicon sand separating the multitude in colours of water lapping these shores. The artist would have struggled with his palate to fully represent the spectrum he was facing. The blues and greens sections would be fully exercised. From our vantage point, within pools set into the silica white sands, black dots of the breeding stingrays could be seen. The young Sealink staff appeared incapable of completing a sentence without using the word 'awesome', but maybe, used correctly, what we were observing was indeed awesome. I just can't use it.

Returning to the craft and lunch, we progressed to Whitehaven Beach for 2 hours R&R, and the opportunity to stroll and lie on the cool silicon beach. Surrounding this island are Green Turtles who come ashore to lay their eggs. Turtles lay their eggs in these sands. Buried for between 45 and 70 days, they incubate such that the eggs lower in the sand hatch as male, and those higher where the sand is warmer, are female. They say females are hot, males are cool.

The islands are managed and owned by the Whitsunday Islands National Park. We were given very strict instructions that nothing should be removed from the islands except photos, and nothing left behind except footprints. Clichéd perhaps, but nonetheless well intentioned.

We certainly left with many photos, but also with many memories of this extremely special place and somewhere we would encourage anyone to visit because it is SO beautiful and really has to be seen.

The Sealink Catamaran returned us to Shute Harbour, Airlie Beach, at 5 pm. It has been a brilliant day with the sun totally free in its trajectory across the sky, unencumbered with clouds it pursued its course, bathing us free of charge with Vitamin D. Benefits not available to the many desperate groups we became aware of that were blinking out to sea from the gloom of the trees along the top end of the beach. They had all the appearance of a hidden army.

Extremely satisfied, we climbed back into the Renault and returned home for a great deal of SB and nibbles.

Tomorrow promises to be a quiet day before moving on on Tuesday.

ps. As we sat drinking our SB tonight, we saw the bright light of the ISS cross 400 km above us in its low earth orbit in the night sky.

[theoutcastrogue]

Old school multitools

mid-19th/early 20th century, Sheffield

Gold-mounted penknife by Joseph Rodgers & Sons, Sheffield, last quarter of the 19th century. With twelve folding blades and accessories, including bodkin, borer, hoof pick, and corkscrew, stamped with the maker’s details and mark of a star and cross, fitted with rounded mother-of-pearl scales retained by four gold-capped rivets, four finely engraved gold terminals, and vacant gold shield-shaped escutcheons, 11.3 cm (closed)

Folding pocket knife by John Petty & sons, Sheffield, late 19th century. With nine folding blades and accessories, including pen blade and button hook, gilt fillets, filed details including gilt spring backs inlaid with engraved mother-of-pearl plaques, and tortoiseshell scales inlaid with engraved copper alloy flowers, 11.7 cm (closed)

Sportsman 'Wharncliffe' knife by Rodgers, Sheffield, early 20th century. With folding blade stamped ‘Wharncliffe’, saw, corkscrew, awl, shaped farrier’s hook, inlet picker and tweezers, natural staghorn scales, brass fillets, and vacant German silver escutcheon, 10.4 cm (closed)

Multi-blade penknife for exhibition. With over one hundred folding blades and accessories including awls, borers, saw, scribes and bodkins, the main blade marked with a pair of crossed spurs at the base, fitted at each side with tortoise shell scales each retained by five minute German silver screws, and fitted with horn pick and German silver tweezers,12.0 cm (closed)

Coachman's knife, James Rodgers, Sheffield, mid-19th century. With eleven folding elements including signed blade, saw, farriers hook, fleam, trace borer, and corkscrew, iron fillets and natural staghorn scales with concealed tweezers, pick and concealed knife, 9.5 cm (closed)

Watts pattent cycle knife, Sheffield, late 19th/early 20th century. With four folding elements including tyre lever, pincer and blade screw driver, and nickel plated body stamped ‘Watts Patent’, 10.7 cm (closed).

Motoring knife. Probably by John Milner & Co., with ten folding elements including blades, screw drivers, bottle opener, spanner, corkscrew and trace borer, nickel-plated body, and steel loop.

Stand knife, 20th century. With four folding elements including button hook anGold-mounted penknife by Joseph Rodgers & Sons, Sheffield, last quarter of the 19th century. With twelve folding blades and accessories, including bodkin, borer, hoof pick, and corkscrew, stamped with the maker’s details and mark of a star and cross, fitted with rounded mother-of-pearl scales retained by four gold-capped rivets, four finely engraved gold terminals, and vacant gold shield-shaped escutcheons, 11.3 cm (closed)d gouge, nickel-plated body stamped ‘Celebrated “Stand” army knife’, with loop, 10.7 cm.

Engineer's knife, by W. Mills & Son, Sheffield. With four folding elements comprising three differing blades and a ruler, the body with a continuation of the ruler on one face, inscribed ‘Bristol’ and with an F2 biplane.

Sportsman's knife, by Rawson Brothers, Sheffield, late 19th/early 20th century. With eleven folding elements including large blade, saw, trace borer, bodkin and farriers hook, copper alloy fillets, mother-of-pearl scales, and vacant German silver escutcheon, 11.7 cm (closed)

Coachman's knife, Wilkinson, London and Shefflield, late 19th century. With eight folding elements including signed blades, farrier’s hook, scoop borer, corkscrew and cartridge extractor, copper alloy fillets, nickel silver body stamped ‘Par-a-gon’ on each face and loop, 12.7 cm (closed)

tinyurl.com/yr4hd4pr

[the-faramir]

Extinction Curse Session 2024/06/19 (part 1)

The Siege of Willowside

Day 3 (Part 3)

Midori sang:

🎶🎶🎶 You've run up to me to make an attack But I won't just take it, I'll strike you back! A pound of cure's worth an ounce of prevention So I'll slide over here to split your attention! 🎶🎶🎶

She moved to put herself on the opposite side of the sodden sentinel from Galon and stabbed at it from behind with her rapier, running the blade clear through its torso. It tried to swing its arm backward to hit her but missed. The creature collapsed onto the floor, blasting out its entrails. Midori narrowly dodged the fetid deluge.

Lysander followed up with a soothing spell on Midori and Buffy gave her a life boost while Galon shot a ki blast between the force cage's bars at the foes inside.

Angered even more, the undead pounded at the cage, breaking through the bars and escaping.

Midori sang:

🎶🎶🎶 Oh, undead with your fists of rage You've pummeled and pounded and broke through your cage We'll just have to secure you with stronger locks But until then, GO EAT SOME ROCKS! 🎶🎶🎶

She launched a telekinetic projectile at one of the zombies, killing it. "Ha ha! Yeah, that's right! Take it all, bitch!" The zombie exploded in a shower of guts.

Lysander sighted his hex blaster gun on another foe. He fired a direct hit, splashing flames onto the adjacent foe as well. He reloaded and fired once more, but missed.

Ignoring the damage, the two sentinels shambled over to Midori. One struck her, knocking her to the ground just in time to be missed by the second's swing. "Gah! They're swarmin' me! Help! Buffy!"

Buffy launched a rock at one of the foes, killing it instantly. "ONE FOE REMAINING!" she stated. Midori rolled out of the way just in time to avoid the awful shower of offal, stood up, and retreated to a safe distance.

Galon launched himself at the solitary sentinel, pummeling it with a flurry of blows. Lysander assisted with a shot from his gun. Still going, however, the zombie turned on Galon with a strong, sweeping left hook which knocked the monk to the ground.

Buffy finished off the foe with another rock. Galon was able to dodge the burst of organs.

"Wow!" Midori exclaimed, "that took a lot longer than I'd have thought. Well, line up an' I'll get to patchin' everyone up." She took out her healer's tools and healed the party's wounds.

The party searched the area, finding a cloak decorated with lizard scales. Examining it, Midori informed the party, "Hey it's like my clandestine cloak, but better! Anyone want it? Lysander? Wanna be less noticeable?"

Lysander replied, "You're our scout. It should probably go to you."

"Well," Midori thought for a moment, "I did just claim the rune from upstairs. Don't wanna be a treasure hog. But tell ya what: I'll give you my old cloak an' take this one in trade. Deal?"

Lysander nodded and took Midori's old cloak as she put the new one on.

"All right, let's move on," Galon advised.

"Yeah," Midori agreed, "maybe we missed somethin' in that cavern we passed. The one that worried you, Zookdar." Midori looked around, not seeing their gnome champion. "Zookdar? Where'd ya go?"

Hearing no reply, the party doubled back to the previous cavern. Peering cautiously through the entryway, each hero tried to find the safest way inside.

"There's a pile of bones by the inlet from the sea," Midori noted. "I could sneak into the cavern, go from stalagmite to stalagmite to the other side, an' see if anything's lying in wait."

Galon suggested, "We could just run right in and take on any enemy head-to-head."

Lysander shook his head. "I still don't trust this place. Hey Buffy, send out McBuffington to scout for us!"

Buffy opened one of her compartments, letting out McBuffington, her fae dragon companion, who fluttered quietly into the cavern. As she rounded one of the stalactites hanging from the cavern ceiling, a sharp-toothed maw appeared in the very stone itself, grabbing the diminutive dragon and crunching noisily.

Midori shrieked, "AAAAAH! HOLY SHIT! THE STALACTITE ATE MCBUFFINGTON!"

Another mouth appeared in the nearby rock, attempting to grab Buffy. The automaton moved out of the way just in the nick of time.

"Okay," Lysander nodded his head, "let's get the fuck outta here!" Before he could move, another mouth appeared in the stone beneath his feet, trapping him briefly until he was able to pull his foot out and take a few steps back.

Galon shook his head. "I dunno, guys, I'll fight a lot of things, but fighting the ground isn't high on my list of things to do." Another mouth formed at Galon's feet, biting him. He stomped at the mouth, but appeared to do no damage. Yet another mouth came out of the stone and grabbed Lysander. "Perhaps," Galon continued, "a strategic retreat!"

Still another mouth materialized, grabbing Midori and preventing her escape. She screeched in pain and shouted in panic, "THE FLOORS HAVE MOUTHS! THE FLOORS HAVE MOUTHS! We can't escape! That's it, man! Game over, man! Game over!" She attempted to escape but failed. She tried to strike at the mouth but it would not release her. She took a big, calming breath, and sang a verse to inspire courage:

🎶🎶🎶 Courage, my friends, find a way to get us out Their grasp on us is way too secure Then I say we take off an' torch the caves from above It's the only way to be sure 🎶🎶🎶

"Let's try this," Lysander suggested. He cast Symphony of the Unfettered Heart, allowing Midori to escape.

Stepping away from the mouth a grateful Midori thanked the skeleton. Buffy followed up with a spell to link Midori's steps with Galon's in the hopes that his greater strides could pull her away. "Okay, go, Galon, go!" Before Galon could move, however, another mouth grabbed Midori, immobilizing her once more. She choked out the words, "GAHH DAHH SONOVA BITCH!"

Galon sighed, turned around to run up to Midori, ripped her out of the stone mouth (fortunately not tearing off her legs in the process), and retreated down the hallway with Midori in lockstep.

The mouth holding onto Lysander gnawed on him a bit more. Midori shouted, "I'll save ya, Sander!"

🎶🎶🎶 Though the floors have mouths And, oh, nothing rhymes with 'mouths' But no matter how that may be We'll have courage to come set you free! 🎶🎶🎶

She attemted to hit the mouth with a telekinetic projectile, but missed. Sick of waiting, Lysander shot his way out and retreated.

Galon attempted to rescue Buffy in the same way he rescued Midori, but could not get the automaton loose.

Midori sang once more:

🎶🎶🎶 How do you fight a cavern with teeth? The mouths just come out above and beneath! But though you've trapped my friend as if with locks I'll smash your fucking smile in with rocks! 🎶🎶🎶

She launched another telekinetic projectile, loosening the grasp on Buffy and allowing her to flee.

The party gathered in the alcove at the far end of the hallway and Midori treated everybody's wounds.

[xamaxenta]

I’m working but I can’t stop thinking about siren ace.

When he giggles he bubbles gently from his gills and Marco makes it his mission to cause this as much as possible. Ace tries to return fire but learns that claws aren’t really good for return tickling (sorry Marco however the scent of his blood in the water does things to ace he refuses to think about in the early stages of their relationship).

Aces coloring is like a fiery sunset and Marco realizes he’s doomed emotionally when at a surfing competition miles away his mind is only on ace waiting at ‘home’ for Marco as he’s hooked on the sunset despite the fact that he’s actively receiving an award for winning the comp.

Marco starts to get a intrinsic sense for the ocean after spending so much time with ace and cannot explain anything to his family or why he’s acting like a love struck idiot more and more these days and sneaking out.

Plot twist is pops would get it, he used to have a rivalry with another ‘fisherman/diver’ who mysteriously always got the best catches and finds and it drove whitebeard mad until he finally met rogers ‘girlfriend’.

Also ace brings Marco the prettiest shells and pearls and things he finds underwater and Marco is stumped for things to bring in return until he discovers ace is madly curious about them loves land cuisine

Ace eventually shows Marco his pretty bioluminescence and while Marco has no cultural clue what that means in his heart he knows and ace has ensnared him forever without singing a single word

You had to say bioluminescence and im sold he would be absolutely stunning at night

During the daytime, sirens look mostly human from a certain angle, hiding their fins, the dorsal pressed flush against their backs, long hair covering the more delicate ones around their faces, they can trick almost all humans into coming closer for a second take which could be fatal

But at night when they sing and hunt through the ocean fog, their bioluminescence is haunting as it is beautifully hypnotic and is an easy lure for a lonely sailor sick of the persistent waves, theyd come out on deck and into the sirens awaiting arms its all too easy honestly

Marco comes back from his surfing competition and knows it might be a lost cause to go out at night to see if Ace would be around, but he’s missed him and wants to see him so when he walks into the shallows od the cove, wades into the quiet dark waves and calls his name, bioluminescence answers from the center of the sandy shallow inlet, the light shimmering beneath the surface

Mesmerised, Marco just stands there slack and defenseless

And then a hand grabs him around the ankles and yanks him bodily into the water, Ace’s favourite greeting and that snaps him out of the reverie

Anxifb also I love that Pops would get it and encourages Marco to see Ace, you don’t often get to know the ocean like this, i also love the implication of Roger finally coming clean when Rouge agrees to meet one other human and Pops finally gets to see the reason why his rascal of a rival has been outpacing him recently

Marco realising Ace is an absolute beast for chicken wings, he’s like are you SURE fried chicken is ok for you? And Ace looks at him like no clue meats meat and we don’t cook? Our food? Its nice also this is where Marco learns Ace’s jaw has the capability of crushing bone, sure its not like chicken bones are that hard after cooking but knowing that Ace has consumed a human or two… means he could do that to human bones and he doesn’t like the implications of how that makes him feel (which is horny)

[hannahhook7744]

The Hook Family in my au (including their 'partners', pets, and next gen) Moodboards (Part 2);

Present:

Alala Hook.

Second (murderous) wife of Captain James Hook.

Bio mom of Hope Hook; adoptive mom of Hort and Hookling Hook. Stepmother of Peter Pan, Harriet Hook, Harry Hook, Calista Jane Hook, and Ally Liddell (she was adopted by Alice and Pinocchio in this).

She doesn't work.

No one is quite sure how old she is because she's a siren.

Harriet Teuta Hook.

Future Wife of Anthony Tremaine-Lathyn.

Future Mother of Annalise Tremaine-Lathyn-Hook, Thomas 'Tommy' Tremaine-Lathyn-Hook, and Katherine 'Katie' Tremaine-Lathyn-Hook.

She is the captain of the Queen's Fury, a member of Diego's band—The Bad Apples, and a worker at Hook's inlet and Shack as well as at Hook's Clock & Curiosity Shop.

She's 18 going on 19 years old (in d1).

Ginevra 'Ginny' Flower (ironic given she's allergic to them) Gothel.

Future Wife of Clay Clayton.

Future Mother of Gabe, Tim, Connie, and May Clayton.

She plays the tambourine and harmonica (and sings a bit) in Diego's band—The Bad Apples—and is the chefmate in Harriet Hook's crew. She also works sporadically at Hook's inlet and Shack, Hook's Clock & Curiosity Shop, and Mother Gothel's Healing Emporium (she also featured briefly in 'Skin Deep With Mother Gothel' and hated every minute of it).

She's 18 going on 19 years old (in d1).

Peter Pan.

Future Husband of Moira Banning.

Future Father of Maggie and Jack Banning.

Leader of the lost children of Neverland.

He's twelve going on thirteen physically and mentally (in d1-d3).

Harrison 'Harry' Alistair Hook.

Future Husband of Uma Athanasiou, Gil LeGume, Chad Charming, and Audrey Rose.

Future Father of Mordermore, Konstantinos, Manon, and Vassilis Rose-Athanasiou (they spun a wheel to decide the last name).

First Mate of the Lost Revenge (Forever), Worker at Auradon Prep (Formerly), and Worker at Hook's inlet and Shack & Hook's (Formerly) & Clock & Curiosity Shop (Formerly). Founder of the scammers and pickpockets club.

He's fifteen going on sixteen (in d1).

Calista 'C.J' Jane Hook. 

Future Wife of Freddie Facilier and Zevon Sorcerer of Enchancia.

Future Mother of Carter Zoran Hook.

Worker at Hook's inlet and Shack & Hook's & Clock & Curiosity Shop. Future Owner of Great Grandmumsie Hook's/Bluebeard's ship—The Avenger.

She's thirteen going on fourteen (in d1).

Allison 'Ally' Ludovica Collodi-Rossi-Liddell/Adelais Zaria Hook II.

Future Wife of Jordan Ayad.

Future Mother of Malik Ayad-Liddell.

Caterer at Mad For Tea, Leader of an Acapella Group, and Future Private Detective.

She's thirteen going on fourteen (in d1) and is Cj's long lost twin (who was adopted by Alice and Pinocchio Collodi-Rossi-Liddell).

Hannah Artemis Hook/Xena Mechthildis Quenby Villa Princeps-Guarder.

Future Wife of Haul Bjorgman.

Future Mother of Metta, Everett, and Ashton.

Captain of The Stormbringer (Forever), Writer (Forever), BDA Detective in Training (Former), and Worker at Hook's inlet and Shack & Hook's & Clock & Curiosity Shop.

She's twelve going on thirteen (in d1) and is adopted.

Hookling Holden Hook.

Adopted son of Alala and James Hook.

Future Owner of Hook's Clock & Curiosity Shop, as well as his uncle Jasper Hook's ship—the Rake.

He's three (in d1) but isn't adopted until the barrier is brought down when he's five (in d3).

Horton 'Hort' Cannon Hook.

Adopted son of Alala and James Hook.

May or may not be the Future Husband of Sophie Witcher (still deciding).

Future Owner of the Serpent's Cry (Grandma Hook's Ship) and Teacher at Serprent Prep.

He's one (in d1) but isn't adopted until the barrier is brought down when he's three (in d3).

Hope Aegea Hook.

Daughter of Alala and James Hook.

Siren and Future Owner of Hook's inlet and Shack & The Jolly Roger.

She is born in d2.

[skylarstark4826]

"You're joking." She scoffed. He suggested canoeing as a 'surprise' for Friday afternoon. The canoe in question lay on the shore with a set of oars perched on the benches.

He cocked his head. "Can't swim, Bell?"

She frowned. "I'm practically a selkie, but I don't trust you not to strand me on an island. Also, I get motion sick if I'm not the one in control."

Blaise mimicked her posture, hands on his hips. "Fine. Let's swim."

"Fine."

"Good." He shucked his shirt off and tossed his wand beside it.

"What are you doing?" 

"I'm swimming. I don't know what you're doing." His boots came off. "Come on, campanellino. We're burning daylight." 

Katie raised an eyebrow. "You're not going to get your trunks?"

"Does my body offend you?"

She rolled her eyes, turning away. "Do whatever you want; us Gryffindors are civilized creatures." Katie hooked her fingers in the waistband of her denim shorts, which skimmed the base of her arse cheeks enough to make a casual observer wonder if she wore knickers beneath them. She did. She stepped out of them, placing her own wand on the ground with a wiggle. His lip slipped between his teeth, and he traced the curve of her bum with a hot stare.

He growled. "I'd never call Gryffindors civilized." 

"You wouldn't know 'civilized' if it hit you in the face." She whirled around and tossed her shorts at him, but his trousers were passing over his knees as she did and the denim slapped against his cheek with a thwack! Katie doubled over and cackled.

He threw her over his shoulder and marched to the dock. "Argh! Blaise!" She pounded on his back, but he pinched her leg. She squealed. "You'll pay for that!" 

"Oh? Will I?" Blaise stepped off the end of the dock, and pulled her under the water with him; he burst back to the surface with a satisfied bark of laughter. Katie clung to his neck, sputtering.

"Stop, stop!" she conceded. "I'm in, I'm wet."

"That's the goal." He pecked her on the cheek. "Can I show you my favorite part of the lake?" 

Katie narrowed her eyes. "Depends. Is it the bottom?" His dimples deepened, but he said nothing; the arm around her waist slid a lower. She wrinkled her nose at him and shook her head. He liked to push the boundary further and further.

Blaise transferred her to his back; her arms wrapped over his shoulders. He swam to a small inlet, where the lake curved around itself and the shoreline was shallow enough to stand on one's tip-toes. The feeling of her stomach against his smooth back muscles made her whole body tingle. 

He grabbed a log which lay half on land and buoyed them for a momentary rest. Katie hoisted herself up, threw a leg over and straddled it. The breeze on her wet skin distracted from the thrumming which built in her. She folded herself into a ball with her knees against her chest.

Blaise quirked an eyebrow. "You've got strong arms, Chaser Bell. Must be why Gryffindor keeps winning." 

She snorted. "You haven't been to a match since first term."

"I go to every match!"

"You do not."

"Excuse me! Yes, I do. I sit with Dean in the box. I have memorized the curve of your arse in a uniform." He winked and folded his arms over the log. The inlet was clouded with algae, which glowed in the waning light. Blaise didn't care; plant life swirled around his body. He floated back from her with a funny look on his face, treading water. The ripples lapped at his skin. "Do you think you'll ever let me kiss you?"

"Is that why you invited me here?"

"You like me."

“What do your mates say when you sit with me in the Great Hall?”

He looked away and shook his head. "Fuck them." 

She sighed. "Blaise--."

“Katie!” He bobbed towards her and held out a hand. He rubbed her knuckles. "I invited you because I like you. That’s it."

"Mum didn't want me to come here; she thinks I’m ‘fragile’ right now." 

He frowned. “You’re strong."

“Hanging around a Gryffindor--Your house will disown you--”

“Slytherin house does not speak for me.” He rubbed her knee. “You believe that, don’t you?”

Katie looked down at their joined hands and squeezed. She supposed she did, by now. "I want to spend time with you, I’m just… scared. I will try to relax this weekend, at least."

"I can live with that." He smiled up at her without an ounce of judgment. 

Katie touched his jaw. He was so gentle with her. Flirtatious, yes, and sometimes too forward. Much too handsome for his own good. Always gentle, when it counted. He had visited her in the hospital wing after she was cursed. They shared a desk in Transfiguration all term, so he brought her homework to pass the time. And sweets. It was starting to make sense why he had withdrawn from the other Slytherins, but it wasn’t just about her. He had a good heart. Her chest ached. What would she do if war broke out and something happened to him? What was her real fear, here? 

"Blaise," she breathed. 

He cupped her cheek. Blaise pulled himself onto the log and his breath passed over her face in soft, determined huff. The golden irises of his eyes flickered back and forth as he studied hers. Her fingers walked up his forearms. She leaned forward the tiniest bit, and his expression changed from concern to sweetness. Even though they shouldn't, and she stood by it... she kissed him. His lips cradled hers, worrying them with a gentle tug. He pulled back and kissed her forehead. His thumbs brushed her jaw.

"Let’s go, the clouds are getting dark." He let her lead, swimming a few yards behind her. By the time they reached land again, the skies opened up. The abandoned canoe inched towards the lake as the ground soaked up the water. 

"Bollocks," Katie gasped once under the porch's overhang. She tried to catch her breath. "I think I dropped my wand."

"I'll find it!" The svelte Italian bolted out into the rainstorm again, starkers except for his soaked briefs. He found her wand by the dock and came running back to the porch. The path was thick with mud, and Blaise was its unfortunate victim. His face smacked against the ground with a shallow slap. He groaned. 

"Oh gods!" She ran to him.

Mud plastered his entire front. He laughed. "I think I twisted my ankle and some mud went down my pants. But I found your wand!" 

"You could've accio'd it!" Katie took her wand from him. She grasped his hands to help him stand as rain pelted them.

"Bloody mud." He winced as he stepped forward. "I need your help."

He wound his arm over her shoulders, and she held his waist. They made it inside and Katie got him to his room; she left him to his own devices there and attempted not to burst into flames, after having his bare skin against hers for the second--no, third time that day. She fanned her face. Gods. 

She tossed their wet clothes over the chairs at the kitchen table. A hot-air spell put them right. She toweled off her hair and changed into pyjamas. Blaise hobbled back to the living room, having scourgefiedany trace of mud from his body. He had opted for a tee shirt and flannel pyjama bottoms printed with tiny gold Z's. 

"You're adorable." He looked her up and down with the same interest as when he had observed her in her knickers. 

She cleared her throat. "Sit on the sofa!" She gathered ice from the kitchen. He propped his foot on a sofa pillow. He let her cuff his trouser leg and prod his skin to figure out where he strained his ankle, wincing only when she found the swollen pocket. Rest and ice was in order.

He watched her with quiet heat in his eyes.

She didn't want to stop touching him. Now that the boundary had been broken, she wondered why she resisted him for so long… other than delicate house politics. She rubbed his shin, as if that would do anything to aid his recovery. 

The kiss. The look in his eyes when she had leaned in... heat, and gentleness. It was arresting and constant since they became close. 

What if this is our only chance? she thought. 

More than anything, she was relieved she had mustered a bit of bravery to kiss him, but what now? His eyes twinkled when she met his gaze. He wanted her. She... vibrated with want.

"Do you know why I have this cabin?" he asked. She sat at the other end of the sofa to put distance between them and shook her head. "My father went into hospital early last year, and I couldn't handle visiting him. Mum basically lived at St. Mungo’s, so I had the house to myself. I was going mental. I found this place by accident. Mum was keen on it. She's been here a few times since my father passed. I spent the first--three weeks after he died?--laying in a hammock out back."

"So… that’s why you’re not hanging around Malfoy?" 

"Yes. I had to get my head straight. What I want is much… clearer."

She sighed, hand to forehead. "Teach me your ways."

"Well, first thing is rest." He held out his arms. She breathed out in relief, settling her body between his and the back of the sofa. He pillowed her head on his shoulder. "Though I don't sleep much, scrolling through a million bad memories."

"Mmm." She laced her fingers with his. "Maybe you'd sleep better if you weren't alone."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that an offer?"

"I'm pretty good at snuggling." She wiggled against him.

He looked down at her and his face was struck with seriousness. " Campanellino..." He touched her cheek.

"What does campanellino mean?"

"Little Bell," Blaise said. “Are you not? La mia campanellino?” He kissed the top of her head and full-body chills rippled through her. 

Fuck it.

She pushed up on one arm and leaned forward, hair tickling his chest. She kissed him. He brushed her hair back and tugged on it lightly. He took her cheeks in his hands, then. "I want to respect your wishes," he murmured against her lips.

"My wishes changed." Katie's fingers curled into the front of his shirt. Blaise scooted back against the arm of the couch obediently. She touched his bottom lip. Such full, soft lips he had, which wrapped around the tip of her finger for a brief moment. An unspoken question.

His eyes flashed and he nodded once. Katie crouched to kiss him again and he grabbed her hips. She swung a knee over his legs. He winced, kicking the ice pack off the sofa and pulling her against him. "Oh! Your ankle--"

"Fuck my ankle." Blaise growled. He kissed her jaw and down her throat, laving her pulse. Her whole body tingled. It wasn't enough. She rucked his shirt up his torso. He took the message and pulled it off, tearing his lips away from her skin long enough to pass the fabric over his head. He pulled hers off, too. "What changed your mind?"

She pinned him against the arm. "Your openness." She smiled against his mouth. His tongue flickered at the seam of her lips and dared them to open. Her tongue met his.

"Talking--ah--!!" He gasped. Her fingers whispered over the plane of his stomach towards his waistband. "--talking about my emotions turns you on?" His head fell back as she cupped him through the flannel.

"Amongst other things." The list of ‘things’ was long, and detailed. Another thing occurred to her: "I'm on the potion, and I'm clean." 

"Good. So am I--oh my gods." His face was blissful. 

"What do you want?"

"You, cara. Anything--don't stop."

"Where?"

"Here." He removed her hands from where they were teasing him and canted his hips, attempting to wiggle out of his trousers without dislodging her from his lap. He pitched Katie forward and nearly off the side of the sofa. She laughed and hopped off of him. 

Without an ounce of shyness, Blaise divested himself of his pyjamas and held out his hands to her again, but Katie shook her head. She turned away from him and peeled her own trousers off, as she had done with her shorts by the lake.

"You're killing me," he said hoarsely. She glanced at him over her shoulder, taking her knickers off next at a torturously slow pace. She blushed, but he didn't care. He ran a hand over his face and reached for her wrist, tugging her back to him. She fell against him and he adjusted, lifting her to straddle him. She felt quite self-conscious under his gaze and moved to cover her breasts, but he touched her chin. 

"Are you all right?" 

"Nervous," she admitted.

His cock jumped beneath her as she sat over him. "I'll stop if you say 'stop." He was deadly serious and she shook her head.

"Don't stop," she affirmed. She kissed him as his hands moved up her thighs.

"Can I touch you?" His touch paused at the crease of her hip. She nodded. He smiled and studied her face as he found her folds, which were thrumming to be touched. She was wet and so thankful to feel him. He eased his fingers inside her, just two--it was enough to make her knees go weak. She pressed her forehead to his shoulder and drove herself back onto his hand. 

"Katie--" he whispered into her temple. "You feel incredible."

"I'm--"

"You're perfect." He pumped her slowly, ramping up her desire. If she had been able to form words, she would've told him that all it took to make her wet was him giving her one of those piercing looks of his, that she had tried to date last term but no one else made her feel this way--but then again, this was far and away better than what she had ever hoped for. She let out a low whine and her hand found his cock between their stomachs, which made him pause his ministrations to her. He was hard just from watching her pleasure and preparing her, but he still gasped when she stroked him.

She didn't ask his permission, but she knew she had it anyway--Katie sat up and leveled her center over him. She was tight indeed, but she took her time and he let her; little by little, in incremental pumps, she took him fully inside her. Once her hip bones bumped against his, he held her still and breathed out.

"Cara, I could die now and be happy." He kissed her so softly she wanted to cry. In response, she lifted her hips. How very much she wanted to make him happier. They found a rhythm--slow but sure, clinging to each other like they might float apart at any moment. His breath grew shallow. Katie reached behind her and ran her nails up the inside of his thigh, tiny prickling trails that made his hips jolt up. "Oh, fuck!" He was close, but he wasn't about to let her get the best of him.

Blaise found her clit and massaged it in measured circles, inducing a silent moan from her open mouth. "Please," she whispered. He coaxed her, pushing her down to meet him with one hand, and touching her sensitive nub with the other, until she tightened like a vice around him and arched her back. He cupped her breasts, her waist, her arse as she came down from her high. Her head fell forward and she met his thrusting pace, squeezing her inner muscles, even though she was sensitive and shaking, until he thrust erratically and reached his own release. He hugged her to his chest and refused to let her move while he caught his breath.

"Merlin," Katie breathed against his neck. 

He chuckled warmly. "So much for not doing this."

"You regret it, then." She pinched his nipple.

He pinched her bum in retaliation. "Not on your life." He pulled out of her and they both gasped at the loss of intimate contact. Katie hopped up and resisted the urge to cover her body. They exchanged several giddy looks as she gathered her pyjamas and padded to the washroom. “Hey.” She turned back to him. He smiled. “You don’t have to worry. About me. If the war does happen, I’m with you.”

Katie leaned against the door. “What if they don’t give you a choice?”

“I know what I believe in. You just have to trust me.”

She shrugged. “What would you have me do?”

“Well,” he said, turning to the side and tentatively standing on his good foot. He hobbled to her, which was comical in his naked state. “I have spent the last several years lusting after you and now--” he dipped his head and kissed her. “I find I’m addicted. So. For now , you’ll stay with me, here, until the end of Summer break.”

She bit her lip. “I’m supposed to train while we’re off.”

“I’ll train with you.”

“You will?” she laughed.

“I was a chaser!”

“Yes, you’re good at chasing.” She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him again. “Fine. I’ll owl my parents tomorrow and have them send my broom, and some more clothes.”

Blaise lifted her off her feet and peppered her face with kisses. “This will be our best Summer yet.”

Even though it felt cruel or stupid to brush off the fact that they might soon face very real danger, Katie couldn’t help but be grateful for Blaise Zabini. The boy who chased.