#hopefully by the end of the year i'll be able to do at least another day of Big Cleaning

[ritahayworrth]

for the end of year asks, 3 & 21!

3. Favorite musical artist / group you started listening to this year? japanese breakfast!

21. What’s something new about your place of residence (room, home, or general location) now vs the start of the year? a few months ago i did a Big Clean of my room and compared to the start of the year, well you can see a lot more of the floor now, and i've been able to keep it that way (for the most part)

end of the year asks <3

[justabigassnerd]

Caught

Pairing - Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell x daughter!reader, Bradley Bradshaw x Mitchell!reader

Word count - 1,626

Warnings - swearing, mostly fluff

Summary - you and Bradley had kept your relationship a secret... but what happens when Goose and Maverick find out?

A/N - it be time for another request y'all! I'm so sorry with how long it's taking me to get through these but I really am trying y'all I swear. hopefully, I'll get into a groove and be able to pump more fics out for y'all. anyways I won't ramble, as per y'all please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!!!

Growing up with Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell as your father, you’d been taught from an early age that you could tell your dad anything. He never let anything you wanted to tell him about feel unimportant. If you babbled to him after preschool about how Sarah had pushed over Tom in the playground, he was giving you his full attention and voicing his own thoughts on the matter. As you got older, you knew you could talk to your dad about any problem that would plague your mind. If someone was bothering you, Maverick would be there to listen and offer advice if you wanted it. He always made an effort to be there for you.

However, despite the trust you had in your dad. There was one thing he didn’t know about you.

Maverick was ignorant of one thing that was going on in your life and that was your relationship with his RIO’s son, Bradley Bradshaw. You’d been raised alongside Bradley, nothing more than half a year between the two of you and while Goose had constantly joked, much to Maverick’s annoyance, that you and Bradley would get together, he never thought it would actually happen. Not until the two of you moved out at least.

You and Bradley were quiet about your relationship, holding hands underneath the dinner table when over at each other’s houses and sneaking kisses when your parents were in another room. On the weekends, when Goose, Carole, and Maverick would go out for most of the day, you would either spend time at Bradley’s house or vice versa, or you would go out on little dates to places you knew neither your parents nor any of your dad’s team frequented, so you’d remain undisturbed. For the first few months of your relationship, this arrangement worked smoothly, and no one was clued into your relationship with Bradley. It wasn’t that you were embarrassed to share your relationship, it was more worry about how both your dad and Goose would react to the news. Carole ended up finding out about your relationship a week before your dad and Goose did, Bradley wanted some motherly advice on relationships, and he had asked beforehand if you were okay with Carole knowing which you were fine with, with the condition she kept it quiet until you and Bradley found the best moment to tell Goose and Maverick.

The moment that your dad and Goose found out came sooner than you and Bradley would’ve liked. One weekend, your dad and Bradley’s parents had agreed to meet up at the beach with Iceman, Slider, and their significant others while you and Bradley had opted to stay behind under the guise of wanting to study together and do school work. After the adults left the house, you and Bradley waited for a minute before shoving your books aside and moving to the sofa. You immediately curled into Bradley’s side as he switched on the television, looking up at him softly as he moved his gaze to look down at you.

“You okay, baby?” He asks softly, his gentle smile never leaving his face as you nod.

“I’m more than okay. I’m perfect.” You reply in a soft whisper, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his jaw.

“You missed.” Bradley says teasingly, leaning down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss which you reciprocate immediately, shuffling in his embrace to kiss him easier as you wind your arms around the back of his neck and Bradley’s hands rested on your hips. However, because you were engrossed in each other’s presence with the tv blaring in the background, you both failed to hear the jangling of keys in the lock and your dad entering the house.

“What the fuck is going on here!?” The shocked and raised voice of your father makes you and Bradley jump away from each other, worry crossing both of your features.

“Dad, what are you doing home? You literally just left.” You say with a nervous chuckle, attempting to diffuse the obvious tension that was filling the room.

“I forgot my wallet and it’s a good thing I did. Now answer my question, what is going on?” Maverick asks, and the moment you open your mouth to try and find a response he holds his hand up to stop you talking.

“Actually, you can explain it to Goose and Carole as well.” He then says, crossing back to the front door and throwing it open to see his RIO and Carole in Goose’s Bronco.

“Goose, get your ass in here! Carole, you too. Looks like a Bradshaw-Mitchell meeting is needed.” Maverick calls out to his friends and waits for them to come into the house, closing the door behind them and ushering them into the living room while you and Bradley remained frozen in place like a deer in headlights.

“Mav, what’s this about? Ice will kill us if we’re late.” Goose says as he enters the living room, barely batting an eyelid at you and Bradley sat closely together while Carole offered a sympathetic smile to the two of you, knowing what you’re about to endure.

“I just caught these two kissing. Like full-on kissing.” Maverick says, an accusing finger pointing at you and Bradley as Goose’s jaw drops, eyes widening as Maverick’s words sink in.

“Wha- these two?” Goose splutters, making you bury your head in Bradley’s shoulder in an attempt to escape the embarrassment.

“Hey, I need a bit of space between you two, back it up.” Maverick says, making you pull away from Bradley slightly to glare at your dad.

“Dad, are you serious?” You ask, and that’s when Carole decides that now is the time to step in.

“Boys, you two need to calm down.” Carole intervenes, getting both Maverick and Goose’s attention on her.

“But they hid this from us for who knows how long? How are you not angry?” Maverick manages to say, running a hand through his hair. At the silence that follows Maverick’s question, Goose connects the dots and turns to his wife.

“Honey, did you know about this?” Goose asks hesitantly, both Maverick and Goose watching Carole carefully as she nods.

“Bradley came to me a week ago. They wanted to tell you, but they were scared about how you would react and just from what I’ve seen their worries were proven right with the way you two have reacted.” Carole says, an accusing glare fired the men’s way as they exchange a look.

“y/n is my little girl.” Maverick weakly argues, making your face heat up at his words.

“Bradley’s my baby boy but I still want him to be happy and if he’s happy with y/n and she’s happy with him that’s all we should be focused on.” Carole says and it was Bradley’s turn to blush now, glancing down at his lap as you slip your hand into his and squeeze it softly.

“Brad, are you happy with y/n?”

“y/n/n, are you happy with Bradley?” Both questions leave Goose and Maverick’s mouths simultaneously. All eyes were on you and Bradley as you briefly glance at each other, smiling softly before looking back over at Goose and Maverick.

“Yes.”

“Yes.” The answers left your mouth in tandem as Bradley ran his thumb over the back of your hand. Goose and Maverick exchanged a look before shrugging.

“It probably was bound to happen, wasn’t it?” Maverick says, a slight chuckle escaping him as he speaks while Goose nods.

“Well I did call it, but I thought they’d at least wait a year until college so we wouldn’t have to be victim to their teenage PDA.” Goose says, receiving a soft slap on the arm from Carole at the teasing aimed at you and Bradley.

“Oh hush, you know we were just as bad. And it’s not like these two haven’t grown up seeing us kiss, honey.” Carole says, leaning up to give Goose a kiss to accentuate her point. With the tension now gone, you curl back into Bradley’s side, smiling as he presses a feather-light kiss to the top of your head.

“Just don’t break each other’s hearts.” Maverick warns gently, glancing between you and Bradley as you nod.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Mav.” Bradley says, his smile never leaving his face.

“I don’t think I ever could. I love him too much.” You affirm, looking up at Bradley before giving him a soft, gentle kiss.

“Alright, we’ll leave you to it. But I don’t want to be a grandad at this age so be careful you two.” Maverick teases as you groan and toss a pillow at him, missing and narrowly avoiding hitting Goose in the process.

“See that, Bradley? Don’t piss off a Mitchell.” Goose says with a laugh as Maverick rolls his eyes and jokingly shoves him.

“We should make our way to the beach, boys. I’m sure the others are wondering where we are.” Carole says, diverting the attention and both Maverick and Goose nod as you detach yourself from Bradley to find your dad’s wallet and give it to him before he pulls you into a hug.

“I love you, sweetheart.” Maverick whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I love you too, dad.” You reply before pulling away with a gentle smile. After pulling away from the hug, Goose, Maverick, and Carole bid you and Bradley goodbye and make their way out to the Bronco.

“When we get to the beach someone remind me that Ice now owes me twenty bucks now that we know y/n and Bradley are together.” Goose says as he turns the key and starts the engine while Maverick nods.

“Got it… wait, you made a bet?”

[hryniewiecki]

Grand Arcane S2 review

because I really need it to move on

Remember how I mentioned I could write an entire book about everything that went wrong with this season? Well, this is what a little excerpt from it would look like.

Let's start with a personal note to clarify my relationship with this hell of a piece of media.

S1 was this miracle show that was able to break through the several years of depression and anhedonia and make me interested in something, make me try to get back into making art (or at least try to try), to put myself out there on the internet a bit, to try be a part of something and not ashamed of enjoying it, which I never allowed myself before. Coincidentally, I've been at what I thought then was the worst place in my life when it aired and it helped me a lot to get through it. I didn't even think I would make it to see S2, as thee years felt like forever then. Taking all that into consideration, I think you can already tell where this is going.

I honestly thought I was prepared for S2 not being good, as no show could be this perfect. Turns out I wasn't prepared at all. Act 1 made me very happy, so happy I watched it two times, but the rest is something I would've never watch again and rather forget about.

The characters I wanted to see the most were Warwick (body horror, The Wrath of Zaun haunting the streets - got just a glimpse of that, but it felt like nothing) and Viktor (cyborgs and cyber gore, misunderstood idealist, Blitzcrank - got basically nothing; the idea was kinda there somewhere, but got changed so much it didn't matter at all).

I can't believe they took a godforsaken champion like Viktor and not only ruined his story completely, but also managed to fuck up everything else by all of a sudden making him a center of all of this mess. The center being the arcane/hextech/magic, which never even gets resolved/explained. Still no idea why it got corrupted and what was the nature of it; the void was never taken anywhere despite being heavily hinted - everything was evil because it was, but luckily the magic of friendship saved us!! (I'll get to that)

Speaking of crucial plotlines that weren't taken anywhere.. Basically every character got screwed over and made empty. Let's use Vi for a quick example (may not actually be the best example, but hopefully you'll get what I mean) - when I saw the pit fighter scene released early, I expected to see it have a continuation in the show, but instead it ended up just being the exact same music video, nothing more. And that goes for some more events - they get compressed into music videos that make it all incredibly hollow. Fight scenes are fine like this, sure, but not something that was supposed to be a bit more emotional and serious. Anyway, they successfully made me hate most of the characters. Either hate or just straight up not recognize them, and in a bad way.

Long story short the pacing is awful (it only gets back to normal in ep7, as it resembles the structure of S1) and the writing sucks ass. I can't for the love of god believe it was written alongside S1. There's no way in hell - it's literally all the worst fan theories I've seen come to life and get mixed with fanservice. *puts on a tinfoil hat* Maybe this is the real why they needed an extra year or two, as S2 was initially supposed to be released earlier. No way in hell the same people who wrote S1 and cared so much about the characters would do anything like this. Riot must've gotten heavily involved, making us believe they cut the story short (I think 5 seasons in Piltover/Zaun were planned initially?) for the benefit of it, but all it really was is greed - let's make a bunch of bullshit happen and quickly move to another region to sell more skins for new champions.

Now let's get back to the ending. Man, it really had it all - the nonsense, the multiverse bullshit which basically makes nothing make sense anymore (if there was anything left), the (yes, I'm going to say it, because that's exactly what I felt) cringe and embarrassment. Never seen anything more hollow trying to convince me it was deep and emotional (sums up the whole show perfectly).

How the hell the only thing that was supposed to save Viktor from himself was Jayce telling him he's perfect the way he is? Sure, don't try to cure your illness (that my city caused, but "fortunately" another crucial part of the plot, which is the sister cities conflict, ceased to exist), it makes you beautiful, this is who you are (miserable, unwanted, feeling meaningless and like a burden, dying). I am at loss of words.

Now buckle up jayvik fans. I wasn't a fan of the ship as I'm not a fan of any ships in general, but now I despise it. I wouldn't mind if they actually went on with it, which no, they didn't. We don't want two men kissing (women making out is fine tho, won't make the gamers too angry), so let's play extra safe to make sure it could be explained as any type of other close bond (and that's exactly what Christian Linke does when asked about it). You disgusting cowards, either you show me this in plain sight and I wouldn't give it a second thought, or don't even try bring it up at all (and you can't deny it wasn't implied in S1 with all the Viktor's looks and parallels to Mel).

Where do I even begin? Because I don't think you have any idea on how many levels it actually sucks. If you read it as romantic it's basically telling me that if I was a gay man struggling with my feelings and not being able to confess for years, because I'm convinced I'm unworthy of love as something is inherently wrong with me, then the best I could get after surviving all this (what honestly seems like hell) is a hug, because you're ashamed of me and thus I should be ashamed of who I am till the very end.

Something equally bad is Jayce finding out (or rather we finding out) how wonderful the world could look like if he let go of his beautiful dream, his life's work, and killed himself - it never gets denied, as the corruption of hextech doesn't get explained.

Long story short, if you're struggling with your mental health, trauma issues, disability or any of the problems the characters you related to deal with, this show spits you in the face.

I could go on forever about everything that's wrong (even Jinx got played dirty), but let's finish with the few things I liked: act 1 was promising (it's when I believed they could still make sense of Viktor), fun Sevika's arcade arm fight, the epic fight at the Janna's temple (Woodkid goat), Jayce killing Salo (I felt something) and Jayce's glitchy madness in general, young Vander flashback (felt something), ep7 and Singed's story (the only one that makes any sense).

Other than that the show left me with nothing but void in my heart (I guess that's when it all went). The saddest thing being the masses love it anyway, as it seems they'll watch anything that's colorful enough. And Riot will make lots of money of off it, because in the end they never loose. I'm not denying Fortiche absolutely outdid themselves with the art, it's just heartbreaking nothing else even remotely stands up to it.

[mphoenix-7]

Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 14: The Cabin: Day 5 (pt. 5)

Summary: You and Soap go fishing, have some nice conversations, and get a little wet. Things seem to be changing between you.

Word Count: 8,311

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, swearing, strong language, animal death, fluff, mentions of poor past relationships

A/N: New chapter for you!! This one’s a little longer and full of nice moments 😊 Let me know if you’d like to be added to the Taglist!

Masterlist | <- Previous | Next ->

Bitter Allies • Part 14

By the time you'd gotten back to the cabin, you estimated it was nearing 1400-1500 hours. The sun was just beginning to move closer to the horizon, but there was still plenty of daylight left for fishing.

After dropping the backpack off inside, you found yourself back out in the woods looking for sticks that were both long enough and sturdy enough to fish with. So far you haven't had much luck. The sticks were either too rotted, too heavy, not long enough, or too flimsy.

Sighing softly, you toss another stick that turned out to be a dud to the ground. This one looked decent but felt a little too rotted. And sure enough, when it hits the ground, it snaps off about a fourth of the stick, making it too short now.

You grumble to yourself in frustration, continuing on with your search. You weren't expecting to catch any fish right away, but you honestly thought the preparation would be going a little faster than this.

Coming across yet another stick, you bend down to pick it up. This one actually feels sturdy and is a decent shape. You instantly start to get excited and hold it to show Soap.

"Hey! Would this work?" You ask, pulling him away from his own search momentarily.

He was a few yards away, searching out in the opposite direction that you had been. It doesn't look like he's found anything yet either. At least his hands are empty as he walks over to you to check out the potential spear. He glances it over really quick before taking it from you to inspect it closer.

"It's a little on the heavy side." He says, bouncing it a little bit in his hands to test out the weight. "If it's too heavy then you won't be able to thrust it fast enough to spear any fish. But I might be able to whittle away some of the weight to make it work."

"So does that mean it's good?" You ask slowly, hopefully. Any progression towards getting your fish dinner would be nice.

Soap chuckles softly and gives you a nod. "Yeah, this'll work. I'll start prepping it if you want to keep looking." He says, walking over to a nearby tree stump and sitting down.

You're grinning to yourself excitedly as Soap takes a seat on the stump. You only needed to find one more stick, maybe two if you wanted a backup, and then you'd out in the water.

Before you go back to searching though, you take a second to watch Soap as he lays the stick across his lap and as he pulls the knife from his pocket. He flicks it open with a practiced ease and gets to work on getting one of the ends into a sharp point. He's working quick enough that it looks like he's done something like this before.

"Where did you learn to fish this way?" You ask as you resume looking for suitable sticks.

Soap hums softly in thought, making three swipes with the knife before answering. "I think it was Price who showed me this way. Back a few years ago when I first joined up."

"Of course it was." You giggle. You could totally see Price being the kind of guy who liked to fish.

It was probably because of the boonie hat that he was always wearing.

“You do any fishing before that? The normal way with actual poles?" You ask, the question popping into your mind and leaving your lips without much thought.

Soap pauses mid-swipe, his knife hovering just above the wood. It's a brief moment, gone almost as quickly as it comes, but you catch the subtle hesitation before he resumes his work.

"Yeah... I used to go quite a bit with my dad." He answers slowly, returning to a steady pattern of swipes with the knife. "When I was young I remember going out a few times a month with him to go fishing. He was really into it, but after my mum died, I don't think we ever went again."

You stop your search for a moment to frown over at him. His eyes are glued to the stick he's working on though. You're having trouble reading him, not sure if this is a sensitive topic for him or not. He looked a little tense, but you can't tell if that's from the topic of your conversation or because he's hunched over whittling at a stick.

"Do you miss it?" You ask slowly, trying to keep up your search, but you're a little distracted now.

"Miss what?" Soap asks, finally glancing up at you. "Fishing? Not really." He shrugs, gaze dropping back down, the knife continuing its steady rhythm against the wood.

You frown a little bit. That wasn't really what you'd been asking. "I guess I meant it more like do you miss fishing with your dad." You elaborate.

"Oh, no. Maybe when I was a kid, but no. Don't really miss it now."

His response comes so quickly, so bluntly, that it catches you off guard. There's no hesitation, no flicker of emotion, just a flat dismissal. The ease with which he brushes it off makes you pause and take a moment to think over his response. You'd figured Soap and his dad must have been close, especially given how he spoke about his mom, but now you realize that might not be the case.

"Are you and your dad still close?" You ask softly, your search for sticks now completely forgotten for the time being.

Soap continued on with indifference though, pausing only to turn the spear over a few times to inspect his work. He was mostly done. The only thing that remained was to take off some spots that had the potential for causing splinters.

"No, we had a... falling out? I guess you could call it that." He says, blowing a quick puff on air onto the spear before shaving away at one spot.

You hesitate, trying to find the right words to respond. The way he brushes it off so casually leaves you a bit uneasy, but confident enough to keep asking about it. He didn't seem too upset by the topic.

"Falling out?" You echo, raising an eyebrow curiously. "What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

Soap's expression tightens just a fraction, the subtle shift the only sign that this topic is more difficult for him than he's letting on. You regret asking now.

His eyes remain locked on the spear, and the silence stretches uncomfortably between you. For a moment, you wonder if he'll respond at all, and you're on the verge of reassuring him that he doesn't have to say anything. But just as you're about to speak, he breaks the silence.

"It's... complicated." He sighs, his tone carefully tight and neutral. "Kinda a long story. Not a great one. Let's just say a lot changed after my mum died."

He's getting more tense more. You can see his shoulders stiffen and the once smooth swipes of his knife become rougher, more forceful. Whatever happened between Soap and his father, it clearly left behind a deep, lingering anger.

"Alright. Yeah, we don't have to talk about it." You say gently, giving him a reassuring half smile even though he wasn't currently looking at you to notice it.

"So uh.. how many sticks do you think we'll need? Do you think two will be good enough?" You want to steer the conversation away from the topic that had clearly made him uncomfortable.

It seemed to actually work too. The second you get off the topic of Soap's dad, he seems to relax, his shoulders dropping.

"Should probably do three just in case one breaks or something." He says, sitting upright and rolling his shoulders out. It looked as though he was getting rid of any remaining stress. "You find anymore yet? This one is just about done."

He holds it up, showing off his work. One end of the stick looks extremely sharp, and he's done a good job at shaving off parts of the stick to make it more comfortable to hold and use.

The whole time he's been working, you'd been distracted by your conversation. You had yet to find another one, but you also haven't looked very hard. Forcing your feet to leave the spot they'd been firmly planted at, you start trekking back through the area to look for more sticks.

"No, not yet. Most of the stuff here is pretty rotted." It sounds like an excuse, but you're also not completely lying. Most of the options thus far had been rotten.

Then of course you just happen to find a perfect candidate the second those words leave your lips. "Oh, wait, here's one." You bend down to pick it up.

Soap laughs softly, and you miss that he rolls his eyes a little bit. He was fully aware you hadn't even been looking. "Well bring it over. Just one more to go after this."

He sets the finished spear down next to the stump he's sitting on and holds out his hand as you bring the next stick to him. Setting it in his lap, he starts whittling away at it once more while you get back to looking for one more.

As he does, his mind drifts a bit, thinking back to his father and what happened. His hand tightens on the handle of the knife, but he forces himself to relax. He doesn't want to be angry.

It's been a while since he's had to think about the things that happened in his past. The longer he's out here, the more stuff seems to come up—things he's buried deep for a reason. It's not something he really wants to think about... if he can help it.

He clears his throat, shaking off his thoughts and looking back to you. "So States, you uh... you ever been fishing before?"

Your face lights up when he asks that, and you start to ramble on about how you grew up in the city, so you didn't have the chance to go often, but you went once with your grandpa. A whole retelling of the trip occurs after that, and Soap just listens on with a smile on his face.

***

You're sitting in the grassy patch near the lake out behind the cabin, removing your socks and stuffing them safely inside of your shoes. Soap is already out in the water, spear in hand, but he hasn't waded too far out yet. He's standing right along the shoreline, just enough for his toes to be fully submerged, waiting for you to join him.

"Steaming Jesus, for someone who was rushing me through making that last spear, you sure are slow as hell all of a sudden." He grumbles, looking back at you with a somewhat impatient look on his face.

You shoot him a look as you roll your pants up a bit higher. "That's because I'm not just tossing my stuff around like that." You say, nodding toward his shoes, which are haphazardly kicked off with his socks inside-out and scattered randomly nearby. "You know honestly it's hard to believe you're in the military with how messy you are sometimes."

Soap scoffs at you. "I'm not messy." He claims, but you just fold your arms across your chest and raise an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah? What about the suitcase in our room?"

The suitcase had remained unpacked by him. While you had neatly arranged your belongings in the dresser drawers, Soap hadn't unpacked a single item. Whenever he needed something, he'd dig it out, wear it or use it, and then by the end of the day, whatever he'd taken out was returned to the suitcase, tossed back into the growing pile that filled the entire bag.

"What about it?" Soap asks defensively. "That's not messy."

You can only drop your jaw at him, eyebrows raised in shock. "What do you mean that's not messy? It's just a big pile. You haven't put anything away since we got here."

"Better than it being on the floor. Besides, I see no need to unpack if we're only gonna be out here a week."

You scoff, shaking your head as you finish rolling up your other pant leg. "You could at least organize your stuff a little. That's all I'm saying."

Soap shrugs nonchalantly, waving a hand as if to dismiss the topic. "Eh, whatever. Just get your ass over here already before all the fish turn in for the night." He says, turning back to look out into the water to see if he can spot an area where they might be gathering.

Rolling your eyes, you push yourself up from the ground and grab your spear. The sun glimmers on the water, the wind creating gentle ripples on the surface. Despite the warm rays bearing down on you, the water is cool. As you step in, a shiver runs along your spine as the water laps against your bare feet.

The bottom of the lake is rather smooth, but there are a few sharp rocks that poke up into the bottoms of your feet. As long as you walk slowly though, it doesn't bother you too much. It's something you've gotten used to in your time here and during the few baths you've taken.

Soap looks back over his shoulder at you when he hears you enter the water, waiting until you're closer to him before he starts to wade out a little farther. "Come on, we're gonna have to go out a little deeper for bigger fish. Small ones probably aren't going to be worth catching."

"Alright, I'm coming." You call out, taking a few steps farther into the water.

When you get a little deeper into the water, you suddenly pause. There's a slight prickle at the back of your neck that makes you turn and reflexively glance back at the shoreline.

Last time you'd been out in the water, you'd been attacked by a bear. While you had managed to face your fear directly earlier, that didn't mean that the urge to check your surrounds to make sure it was safe was entirely gone. That urge would most likely always be there to some degree. It was just more manageable now.

When Soap doesn't hear the sounds of the water splashing behind him anymore, indicating that you weren't following him, he stops and looks back. You were still standing in the more shallow waters, staring off back towards the shoreline.

"Oi, States!" He calls out to get your attention. "You good?"

His voice pulls you out of your own head, and you jump a little bit as your gaze snaps back to his. You quickly try to shake off any remnants of fear and try to remind yourself everything was fine. Even if a bear did show up, you knew how to make it go away.

"Yep! Coming." You call back, trying to quickly catch up to him without making the water slosh too much.

Soap waits patiently for you to join him, his brows furrowed the slightly and eyes following your every movement. "Everything alright?" He asks again once you've caught up.

"Yeah." You nod dismissively, giving him a slight shrug.

You're about to just move past him, head out into deeper waters where the fish are going to be, but then suddenly Soap grabs your arm. The quick motion makes your heart leap in your chest, and the unexpectedness of it forces you stop in your track and look at him.

His eyes are sharp, analytical, and his grip on your arm is firm, but not painful. He pulls you closer, giving your arm a little tug, and your heart seems to start racing as you move closer to him.

"No bullshite. What's up?" He asks, eyes not leaving yours for a second. "Are you still worried about the whole bear thing?"

You honestly hadn't expected him to notice anything, let alone address it so directly, but the reply flies quickly off your tongue.

"No." You answer, shaking your head, but then think better of it. "Well, thinking about it, yes. Worried? Not as much as I was. It's just... It's still on my mind, just not as present." You try to explain. The fear is more of a shadow now, a subtle unease that lingers at the edges of your thoughts. More manageable.

"In other words, I'm fine. I'll be alright." You try to summarize. "Just can't completely turn it off."

Soap remains silent, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that makes you more nervous than the thought of another bear showing up. His gaze is so unwavering, so focused, that it feels like it's seeing right through you.

The longer he holds your gaze, the more your chest tightens, as if the air around you has thinned. You find yourself wanting to hold your breath, unsure if it's his concern or something else that's making your pulse quicken. Then he nods, a soft hum of acceptance leaving his lips.

"If being out here gets to be too much, just say the word. You've done a lot today, and I don't want to push you too much." His words cause an unexpectedly warm sensation to fill your chest, and your breath almost hitches when he squeezes your arm. "Deal?" He raises his brows, almost like he was saying he expected an answer.

"Mhmm." You hum, giving him a nod. You don’t want to rely on words right now. You don’t trust your voice.

Soap gives you a nod back, seemingly satisfied with your response. "Alright then." He mutters, his posture becoming more relaxed. His hand drops from your arm, and you notice there is a warm tingle left behind where he'd been touching you. "You ready to catch some dinner?"

You feel a sigh leaves your lips as you nod. You hadn't even realized you'd been holding your breath. "Yeah, let's get going." You add quickly, trying to hide your sudden nerves behind a smile.

Soap either doesn't notice anything or he just doesn't care enough to. He just gives you a single nod back and then turns and continues walking. You follow after him, moving slower the higher the water gets.

You stop when the water comes up just a few inches above your knees. For Soap the water was only to his knees, but he was taller than you. The area isn't too far from the shoreline, and the water is a little cloudy from you kicking up the dirt at the bottom of the lake.

"We'll try here first." Soap says, coming to a stop. "Get into a stance that's comfortable cause you're going to be holding it for quite a while."

"How long?" You ask curiously, adjusting your feet shoulder width apart. It was the most comfortable stance you can think of. Almost like parade rest, which is a stance you'd gotten used to holding for hours thanks to basics.

"However long it takes for the fish to move into this area." Soap answers, adjusting his own stance as well. He holds the spear with a loose grip, the tip lowered toward the water, but there's no tension. His fingers grip the stick lightly, though he is ready to snap the spear up in an instant if he sees something.

You try to mimic the way he's holding his spear. This is your first time doing something like this, and as simple as it sounds, it was going to be difficult to move fast enough to be able to snag a fish. They were quick and used to responding to the most minute movements.

"Am I doing this right?" You ask, making Soap glance over at you. He observes your posture and then leans over, tapping softly at your hand closer to the butt end of the spear.

"Move this hand back just a little. No, too far. Right there." He says, grabbing at your hand and moving it into position when you move it too much. "Perfect. Leave it like that." He holds up his hand, making a gesture to not move it, and then turns his gaze back to the water.

"Cool, thanks." You mutter, shifting back into your "ready to strike" stance. Your eyes are trained on the water, looking for any signs of movements, but the water is still very murky.

"What kind of fish do you think are even in this lake?" You ask absentmindedly, mostly just asking to help pass the time.

Soap shrugs a bit, his eyes not leaving the water. "Maybe cod? Not really sure. We probably shouldn't talk though. It might scare them off and keep them from swimming over here."

"Oh, sorry." You whisper, pressing your lips together.

Not being able to talk was going to make time pass by so slowly. For a long time, you just stare at the water, but that soon gets really boring. You try to distract yourself by looking up every now and then to look at the scenery around you, but that doesn't keep you occupied for long either.

Soon enough, you're sure at least ten minutes has passed. The water is clear now, but you still don't see any signs of fish. Your back is starting to hurt a bit from staying in the same posture for so long, and you find yourself trying to slowly roll out your shoulders to help ease the discomfort.

You glance over at Soap, wondering if he's feeling the same tension in his back that you were. If he was though, you can't tell. He hasn't moved a muscle since you both went silent, and he doesn't look like he's too uncomfortable yet.

Sighing softly, you relax your stance a bit. "Soap, maybe we should try a different area? There doesn't seem to be any fish over here." You whisper. It'd been quiet for so long it almost felt weird to talk.

Instead of answering you with words, Soap holds up his fist. You're a little confused at first, brows furrowing slightly, but then he points over to a spot a little off to his right.

"Over there. I think there's three or four of them. Wait until they get close." Soap whispers, his eyes not leaving the spot he's looking at.

Your eyes widen, and you quickly, but carefully, get back into your stance from earlier. All the pains from earlier are now gone with the new excitement you feel. You look over to the area where Soap pointed to, looking for the fish, but you can't see anything. Just a glint of sunlight on the water's surface.

"I don't see them." You whisper, eyes still scanning the water. Soap silently points again, his finger tracking their movement. You try to follow to where he's pointing at, and after a few seconds, you finally spot them—shadows just beneath the surface, moving slowly toward you.

You hum softly to let Soap know you can see them now, and his hand slowly returns to his spear. You see him coil up just slightly, shoulders tensed and ready to snap. He's almost like a loaded gun, just a trigger squeeze away from firing.

"When they're close enough, I'll count down." He whispers, his voice steady. "You go for the one closest to you."

You nod, your own muscles beginning to tense up with anticipation. Your heart is starting to pound a little in your chest from the sudden adrenaline, and you find yourself holding your breath. You feel like you're looking down the scope of a sniper rifle, trying to steady your aim so you can land the perfect shot.

"Ok get ready…” Soap whispers. “One... two... three."

When Soap says three, he snaps like a spring lock. The movement is so quick it feels like his spear was already in the water before you even had the chance to move. You did go the same time as him though, snapping your spear down with all the force you can muster. You feel it hit the bottom of the lake, water splashing up as you do. All the commotion also causes the first to stir up again, so you can't even tell if you've gotten anything or not. 

Soap quickly reaches down into the water, hand searching for only a second before a big grin spreading across his face. "I got one!" He laughs victoriously, pulling a fish up out of the water by its tail, the spear pierced right through its gills. "You get yours, States?" He asks, grunting a bit as the fish thrashes around.

"I'm not sure." You say, almost scared to reach blindly into the water. You've never touched a fish before, so you're a little hesitant. You can't feel anything moving at the end of your spear though.

"Let's have a look." Soap says, taking a step closer and reaching down to feel around. By now the fish on his spear has slid down a ways, so there was no way it was going to be able to wriggle off.

He follows the wooden shaft of the spear down, and your eyes dart between his face and the water, hoping he'd pull something out. After a few seconds, his hand comes back up out of the water empty.

"Nothing down there." He confirms, flicking the water off his hand a little bit.

"Dammit." You curse, frowning a bit as you withdraw your spear from the water. "I thought for sure I'd gotten it."

Soap chuckles softly, giving your shoulder a pat. His hand was still wet and leaves a little wet patch behind. "Ah, come on. You'll get it next time. Let's go put this one out of its misery and then we can try again, yeah? Gonna need a few anyways."

You pout over at him, not too happy that you didn't also catch a fish, but the look of joy on Soap's face makes your pout vanish instantly. His eyes were practically sparking as he looks proudly at the fish he caught. You find yourself smiling at him instead, a laugh bubbling in your chest.

"How many are you planning on catching?" You chuckle, turning and walking with him back to the shoreline.

"If they're all this size," he says, holding up his spear a little. "Then I could probably eat like four of them."

You watch the fish flop around, noting its size. It's not particularly large—maybe eight to ten inches long—and you're not even sure what kind of fish it is. It has brown scales and a white underbelly. You can't imagine catching anything much bigger in this lake.

"If you want to spend time catching four for yourself, knock yourself out." You chuckle, stepping up onto the shore. The dirt and sand stick to your feet. "I might actually catch one by the time you get to four."

Soap rolls his eyes, sliding the fish off his spear and holding it by the gills. "You'll get one next time. It's your first time fishing like this. Don't be so hard on yourself." He pulls out his knife as he talks, jabbing it into the head of the fish to kill it and then slicing the gills to start bleeding it out. Even though you're on the military and see death a lot, you still have to look away as he does.

"We'll see." You sigh, looking back out to the lake. "Are we going to the same spot?"

"Nah, we should probably try somewhere else. Let me finish prepping this fish and then we can head out again. Unless you want to try a spot. Might have better luck catching something without me catching in the same area." He suggests.

You nod, mostly cause you don't really want to hang around as he guts the fish. Plus you know that fish don’t stay fresh for very long after you kill them, so the faster you can get a couple and cook them, the better.

"I'll head back out. Try to get a head start." You joke, glancing back down at Soap and wincing as he slices open the belly.

"Alright, catch up with you in a bit." Soap says, his focus solely on the fish before him now.

You grimace just a little before turning and head back out into the water, searching for another spot to fish.

***

You've been standing in the same spot for what feels like an eternity, though it's only been about fifteen minutes. Twice you've had a chance to spear a fish, but both times you missed. It's frustrating, especially since you've watched Soap haul two more fish back to shore in that time.

You're starting to wonder what you're doing wrong. Is it your aim, the timing, or something else?

The water laps quietly around your ankles, the stillness almost mocking your lack of success. You try to focus, adjusting your stance and grip on the spear.

Another fish is swimming towards you, gliding slowly through the water. Taking a deep breath and holding it, you wait until it's close enough, then thrust the spear down as fast as you can. The water splashes up around you, and you can hear the fish's tail flick up above the surface. But when everything settles, you still just have an empty spear.

"Fuck!" You yell out. It was a little louder than you intended it to be, the sound seeming to echo across the small alcove you found yourself in. Now you would have to move into another area, wait ten minutes for a fish to swim over, and try again.

As you pull your spear free and wipe off the little bits of sediment that were left on it still, you can hear a soft chuckle behind you. Turning in irritation, you send a glare over to Soap, who was leaning up against a tree and watching you. How long he'd been there, you don't know, but he had seen you miss apparently.

"Did it get away from ya?" He asks, his arms crossed and spear still in hand. His feet looked dry though, so you assume he's just finished gutting one and is just returning for another trip.

"Does it look like I got it?" You raise your brows at him. "This is fucking hard."

Soap chuckles again, clearly amused by your misery. "It's not that hard, lass."

"Says the guy who's caught three already."

"Four, actually." He corrects you, which makes your jaw drop. When did he get four? You swear you've only seen him make two trips.

"What the fuck?! How are you getting so many?"

Soap shrugs, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You just stab them when they get close." You give him a look at his horrible advice, which only makes his smirk widen. You wish you could wipe that smirk off his face somehow.

"I've been doing that." You grumble, about to further complain, but then Soap's eyes leave yours, darting down to the water.

"There's another one swimming up to you now." Soap says, nodding indistinctly towards the water.

Your attention snaps back to the water, searching for the fish that Soap spotted. It takes a moment, but then you see it—the dark shape gliding just beneath the surface, moving slowly past you. You steady your stance, grip tightening on the spear as you line up the shot.

Then you move, a splash erupting around you, and you feel a brief resistance—but when you reach into the water to try and retrieve the fish, it's already darting away.

"Damn it!" You exclaim, frustration bubbling up as the water settles back into calmness. You're tired and hungry, you just want to catch something—anything, even if it's just a tiny fish.

Soap lets out a soft huff, the grin still plastered to his face. He's having fun watching you fail. "Need some help there, lass?" He offers, a teasing note in his voice.

You shoot him a glare, crossing your arms over your chest. "I don't need help." You grumble defensively, though it doesn't seem to faze him in the slightest.

“Right." He chuckles, turning the tip of his spear down and driving it into the dirt. "Let me show you something that might help." He says, carefully stepping down into the water and making his way over to you.

You sigh and fold your arms across your chest but withhold your protests. As much as it pained you to admit, a few pointers might be nice. You were willing to do anything at this point it if meant you'd finally catch something. That doesn't mean you don't fully intent on giving Soap a hard time about it though.

Soap ignores your expression, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considers the best way to help you. "Alright, first things first," he begins, stepping closer. "You need to wait until the fish is in a good range before you to strike. You'll be faster and more accurate if you hit it at the right angle. My speed at a forty-five degree angle is much faster than like ninety."

He makes the thrusting motions with a ghost spear, acting out how he would move for each angle he's talking about. You felt like you had a pretty good angle you were moving at, so that couldn't be the problem. Still, you nod along as Soap explains, letting him continue.

"Next, when you drive the spear forward, use the hand at butt of the spear to control the thrust." He takes a step closer to you, the water sloshing around him as he does. He takes your hand and places it on the spear, positioning it exactly where he wants it.

"That's where all the power comes from—it gives you that snap you need." He continues, his eyes meeting yours briefly. His voice is a little lower now that he's closer. "The hand up front," he pauses to grab your other hand for emphasis. "That's what guides it. So keep the hand at the front steady and loose so you can guide it, and the back one firm. Got it?"

You half glance towards your spear, looking at the way Soap has placed your hands. His are still right next to yours, holding it with you. "Yeah, I think I got it." You answer him.

"Good. Lastly," Soap lets go of the spear, and before you can even react, he's directly behind you, arms wrapped around you while he grabs ahold of the spear again.

Your eyes widen, and you know you have to be blushing. Your heart is pounding too hard in your chest for you to not be. Then you feel his chest against your back, and your stomach practically flips. It's the same feeling you had last night in your dream when...

You shake your head, trying to immediately erase that thought and focus on what Soap was saying instead. It's hard though when his lips are practically against your ear, making your thoughts just spiral more. 

"When you aim for the fish, remember that water bends light. The fish isn't exactly where it looks like it is. You need to aim slightly lower than where you think. So for example... do you see that rock?" He says, pausing momentarily while he searched for something to use as practice.

You nod, trying to ignore the pounding of your heart as you focus on the rock he's pointing out. "Yep. I see it."

"Pretend that rock is a fish." He instructs. "Now, if you were aiming directly at it, you'd miss. You've got to aim just below it. Like this." He guides your hands, tilting the spear just a fraction lower than where the rock appears and then pushing it forward. When it hits the bottom, instead of sinking into the sandy lake bottom, it hits the hard surface of the rock instead.

"Huh." You breath. No wonder you'd been missing every single time. You had been aiming right for the fish, not below where you should have been. Knowing this right off the bat would have solved so many problems.

Soap chuckles softly, trying to lean around you a bit to see your face better. "You were aiming right at the fish this whole time, weren't you?" He asks. You don’t need to see his face to know he’s grinning.

You huff and stand back up, turning around in his hold. When he doesn’t let go of your hips right away, you press your hand into his chest and push him away.

“Of course I was! Who just thinks about that when it's their first time spear fishing?" You argue back, starting to feel just a little defensive.

Soap's chuckle deepens, a low rumble in his chest. "Guess I just assumed you knew." He shrugs. "It's just like sniping, I thought it'd be second nature to you."

"Sniping is nothing like this!" You argue, crossing your arms. "With sniping, your target is far away, not just a few feet below you. And if it was, you'd just aim directly at it."

"Fair point," Soap concedes, holding his hands up in surrender. "I thought of it more like when you're a sniper, you notice subtle things, like light reflection, that might change how you aim."

You huff again, rolling your eyes. "Well, maybe if you'd mentioned that earlier, I wouldn't have missed so many times."

Soap's grin only widens. "Oh, but where's the fun in that, lass? I've got to admit, it's been pretty entertaining watching you throw a little fit every time you miss."

"Is that so?" You challenge, narrowing your eyes at him. The playful smirk on his face only fuels your irritation.

You'd been out here all day, and Soap hadn't thought to say a word until now about what could have caused your lack of success. And now he was laughing about it and calling it entertaining?

"Absolutely, hen. It's down right adorable when you're piss- h-hey!"

Before he can finish, without a second thought, you reach down and scoop up a handful of water, splashing it right at him. Soap holds his hands up to block the onslaught of water, but it doesn't help much to stop it.

"States! What the fuck?" He grumbles, looking back at you with an angry expression. He had a few drops running down the side of his face, dripping down onto the collar of his shirt, which was also dotted with some wet spots now.

You can't help it. While he stands there, looking annoyed, a giggle escapes your lips, quickly followed by more as you shrug innocently. "Just creating some more entertainment." You say, the laughter bubbling up uncontrollably now.

Soap narrows his eyes at you, and before you can react, he's scooping up an even larger wave and splashing you right back. You shriek as the cold water hits you, making the giggles cease. The wave he'd sent over was much bigger than the one you did. The entire side of your shirt was soaked now.

You stand there for a moment in shock, staring down at the water and watching the little ripples that form on the surface as droplets drip off your face. When your gaze flicks back up to Soap, he's smirking again, soft chuckles leaving his lips.

You glare at him, skin starting to prickle up as a small breeze blows by. Never one to back down and let Soap win whatever dispute you were having, you quickly splash him again, wanting to wipe that smirk right off his face.

It takes him by surprise this time, hitting him square in the chest. He gasps a little, and you hold your hands over your mouth. You hadn't meant to splash him that much, he was soaked now.

Instantly his laughter stops, and you're both frozen, just staring at each other. Then Soap's face shifts into a little scowl, and you know you shouldn't have splashed him again.

"I'm sorry, I didn't meant to splash you that much." You say quickly, but it does nothing. Soap's muscles tense just slightly, and that's all the warning you need.

You don't think—you just run.

The water slows you down significantly, splashing up around your legs as you push through it. You can hear the intense splashing behind you as Soap runs after you, and for whatever reason, laughter starts to bubble in you.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" You cry out between nervous giggles, not quite sure what Soap was going to do once he caught you, and you were sure he would. For one, your legs were shorter than his, which meant more resistance from the water. And second, Soap was faster than you in general.

"Soap please! I didn't mean it! I'm sorry!" You pled again, risking a glance back over your shoulder.

He's right behind you. You scream and try to dart to the side, but it's too late. He grabs you, and in one fluid motion, he pulls you toward him. The impact sends you both falling, but as you head towards the water, Soap twists at the last second, taking the brunt of the fall himself.

You both plunge into the water with a splash, the cool liquid enveloping you entirely for a brief moment. The shallow depth allows you to quickly sit up, and you gasp for air as you resurface. Water cascades down your face, and once you've taken a breath, laughter starts to pour out of you uncontrollably. Soap is still beneath you, the two of you tangled together in a mess of limbs and soaked clothes.

You're laughing so hard you can barely breathe, your stomach aching from it. "Soap, I'm—" you try to apologize through your giggles, but the words fail. Instead, you attempt to push yourself up, but your limbs feel weak from laughter, and it's a little slippery, making it a futile effort. You just end up twisting around clumsily and straddling him instead, your shoulders shaking with breathless amusement.

Soap wipes the water off his face as his pops up, and once he gets his bearings, he starts to laugh too. Instinctively, he grabs ahold of your hips to steady you as you turn around and slip into his lap. You grab ahold of his shoulders, still laughing as you look down at him.

Droplets cling to his eyelashes, and his usually styled hair is plastered messily to his forehead. His eyes crinkle at the sides, and his smile is so contagious as he laughs.

"Think you're funny, do you?" He teases, the laughter in his voice betraying any attempt at seriousness.

"Maybe just a little." You manage to gasp out, still giggling as you start to your breath.

Soap shakes his head, a soft smile curving his lips as his grip on your hips tightens ever so slightly. "You're a menace, States."

There's something in the way he says it—playful but warm. Your giggles start to fade, and for a moment, you're just sitting there, looking at him, still breathing heavy from exertion and laughter. For the first time you notice the subtle flecks of green amidst the blue in his eyes.

Soap is staring right back at you, and you almost don't realize it until you feel his hand against your cheek, brushing back the wet strands of hair that cling to the side of your face.

Your heart skips in your chest, and a warmth starts to spread through you, making you forgot that you're sitting in cold water. "You bring it out in me." You chuckle, earning a smile from Soap in return.

He laughs softly, shaking his head just a little bit. "Oh, so I'm a bad influence now? Guess you should stay away from me then." 

"Well, you're not so bad to be around." You say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

The words hang in the air, and Soap's smile falters, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

The space between you seems to be getting smaller, cause suddenly, you can feel his breath against your lips. The warm and steady puffs mingle with your own, and your pulse starts to quicken. You can't tell who is pulling towards who.

You don't know who makes the final move, but suddenly his lips are on yours—firm, warm, and insistent. The world around you melts away, the cool water forgotten as you deepen the kiss, melting into his soft warm lips.

His one arm slowly wraps around you, the other one staying behind him to keep you both propped up. He pulls you towards him, thumb brushing your hip as you wiggle a little closer.

Your hands move from gripping his shoulders to gently resting on the sides of his neck. Your thumbs brush lazily along his jaw, which draws out a very soft, almost mute, hum from him.

There's a quiet desperation in the way you both move, as if this kiss had been building for longer than either of you realized. You don't know how you keep circling back to this. Caught between trying to set a boundary but consistently overstepping it. Even now, you know somewhere deep in your subconscious you shouldn't do this, but you can't seem to stop.

You feel teeth gently dig into your bottom lip, and you whimper, eyes fluttering open slightly. You see Soap, his eyes shut, and you can barely make out his lips as he pulls gently at yours.

He releases it and looks up at you, his eyes heavy, clouded with what you can only pin down as desire. You search for something to say, something to explain and make sense of what is happening between you, but you can't.

"We should probably stop." Soap says gently, though his eyes still hold that heavy, lingering gaze.

You nod a little, eyes not leaving his. "Yeah... probably." You agree, but you make no move to get up, and he makes no move to push you off him.

It's only when you shiver slightly that Soap seems to snap out of whatever daze he's in. His eyes soften quickly, and he smiles at you, a light chuckle leaving his lips. "Alright, let's get you out of this chilly water, hen."

You blink a little to clear your head and then nod again. "Yeah... yeah." You chuckle softly, only now realizing how cold the water is making you. "Guess I am getting a little cold."

Just as you're about to shift off his lap, intending to create some much-needed distance, Soap suddenly stands up, bringing you with him. You yelp in surprise, instinctively wrapping your arms and legs around him as he lifts you effortlessly out of the water. His arms tighten around you, pulling you close against his chest, his body radiating warmth despite the cool water dripping off both of you.

"Soap! What are you doing?" You laugh, clutching onto him as he strides through the water.

"Getting you out of the water, obviously." He teases, his voice light as he carries you effortlessly toward land.

You lean back slightly to you can look at him, raising a brow at him. "I can walk, you know." You're trying to be serious, but you can't hide the laugh in your tone.

"Yeah, I know. But this is more fun." Soap winks, a playful grin on his face as he reaches the edge of the water. It makes your cheeks burn slightly, and you hope he doesn't notice.

As he steps onto solid ground, he begins to lower you down. Your legs unwrap from around his hips, and your body slides against his as you come down. The sensation sends a shiver through you that has nothing to do with the cold clinging to your skin.

You expect him to let go immediately, but he doesn't. His hands stay on your hips, keeping you close to him, and you make no effort to pull away from him.

"There you go." He says softly, a hint of a smile still lingering on his face.

You continue to stand there and roll your eyes at him. "Thanks for the assist." You joke, unable to keep your chuckle down.

Soap smiles back at you, chuckling softly himself. "Anytime, hen." He hums, his eyes suddenly flicking down away from yours. He pauses for a moment, and you wonder what’s running through his head. What he’s thinking about.

“We should see if we can get one fish more before we start cooking.” He says instead, finally looking back up. “But you should probably change first. I can see your tits."

It takes a second for his words to fully register, but when they do, your gaze quickly snaps down. Sure enough, you can see practically everything through your wet shirt. The water makes your shirt cling to your body. Even though it's a darker colored shirt, you can still see the outline of your bra, and the dip of the valley between your breasts.

You gasp and quickly cross your arms to shield yourself, which only makes Soap laugh. The bastard had just been staring at your chest this whole time. You glare at him, your face practically feeling like it's on fire.

"You ass! And here I thought we were having a nice moment!"

Soap laughs harder. "It was very nice for me." He shrugs, earning himself a firm punch to his shoulder, one that he gladly takes.

@the-faceless-bride @venavanup @hotthankss @daemondoll

[nburkhardt]

Feels Like the World's Gonna End (But I'll Get You Through)

This was supposed to be small, oops. Hopefully it reads okay! Also small warning: panic attacks, flashbacks. Hurt/Comfort, lots of cuddles & kisses at the end ✨ (btw when you see ~ it means a pov change.)

To a regular person, July 4th is a good day. It’s a day to celebrate and enjoy one another.

To Steve Harrington it is everything but.

Getting tortured either on or around July 4th would definitely change your opinion on the day. It would cause panic and anxiety.

He’s kept it close to his chest, what happened behind those steel doors. Kept it minimal with the rest of who was involved with the Russians. Robin especially doesn’t know exactly what happened to him when they separated them. Dustin and Erica doesn’t even know the torture happened, Steve and Robin kept it quiet.

The rest of their group didn’t even believe them about the Russians at first, so he couldn’t figure out how to bring it up. Since at the time Hopper was gone, believed to be dead and Joyce was grieving. Steve felt like he couldn’t speak to her about it, didn’t want to bring it up.

So, close to his chest is where it all stays.

————— July 4th, 1986 —————

Vecna defeated and with that the upside down is no longer around, everyone is finally able to breathe a little easier.

The Byers are back in Hawkins, living in a brand new home that they were able to finally finish putting together to hold the start of a new tradition of get togethers with their group and then some.

Today is the official start of said tradition. Everyone is meeting up and going to enjoy the day together, like normal regular people.

Or make an attempt to be normal regular people, for Steve at least. He’s been more, jumpy lately and luckily not a lot of people have notice. Sure, it’s been a good few months since everything went down and everyone is doing okay.

But the whole first part of July is just not Steve’s favorite anymore. Technically the whole month, if he’s being completely honest.

Which is just shitty, since his birthday is also July 4th.

Not that anyone knows, he kept that particular fact to himself. Celebrates it at the end, so everyone believes it’s the 31st instead. Which is fine, really it is. He’s not too picky when it comes to celebrating, before everything it was stuffy parties full of his parents friends and coworkers. Then it was parties to get drunk with classmates.

It’s been better since Dustin came into his life, since Robin and now with everyone else it’s good. It is.

Just with everything that happened in March on top of his unresolved trauma from last year, he can’t help but feel like something is going to come down.

Something is about to happen and it’s not great that this is going through his head as he’s sitting on the ledge of the Byers’ wall watching the kids run around like the teenagers they are or hearing laughter all around him.

There’s a genuine smile on his face as he watches Eddie spin Erica around and the honest to god joyful childlike smile on her face. It makes his heart beat a little faster, seeing not just Erica be the child that she is but also just Eddie.

He knows he’s in love with Eddie, has for a while. But he can’t bring himself to make a move, even if Robin swears Eddie has to have the same feelings. That there’s a chance but the last time he took one with the L word, his heart got stumped on.

So, he’ll stay right here and watch from his spot, listen to them be happy and enjoy the holiday. All while anxiously waiting for something to happen. His mind is set on it, even if he’s trying not to let those thoughts win.

Before he can even register anything, suddenly his vision is blocked and his heart rate immediately goes up as he’s also picked up and being moved. It’s so sudden that the anxiety he’s been having is loud and clear, telling him this is real.

This is happening. He’s being taken again. The Russians are here or wait- he never left, never escaped and his mind has finally decided to remind him of his new reality. That they’re here to break him more, hit him more, maybe they’ll actually go through and cut his fingers off now.

Still, he struggles and tries to escape. He whimpers out first, a wounded and pathetic sound even to his own ears. Opening his mouth and out comes, “I work at scoops ahoy! I didn’t mean to find it, I swear! You have to believe me, please!”

His mind flashes again to the absolute sinister look the Russian soldier has, shows him the bone saw and he can hear it start. There’s tears going down his face, even with whatever they put on him. Heart beating so fast, he’s shaking and struggling.

“Please, please! I just scoop ice cream!” He’s screaming, his throat hurts and they won’t stop. “I don’t know anything, Please!”

The arms around him are gone, with those gone he hits the ground hard and he scrambles to get away. Sobbing and trying to get away without vision, “let me go, please, please. I just work at scoops ahoy I didn’t mean to find anything! I didn’t see anything, I swear!”

Curling into a ball, he tries to stop but he can’t. He can’t see, he’s stuck under the mall and doesn’t know where Robin is- doesn’t know where Dustin and Erica are, he’s all alone.

Alone with evil people who want to hurt him.

~

Everyone freezes and their face go pale as they watch Steve curling into a ball rocking himself, sobbing into his legs. Pleading to stop hurting him, to believe him.

It’s heartbreaking.

Eddie has to shake himself to get moving, he glares at Lucas, Mike and Dustin as he quickly drops Erica’s hands to make it across the yard to Steve, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“We didn’t mean to scare him!”

“It was just a prank!”

He shakes his head and decides they aren’t important here, that the one sobbing is who he needs to pay attention to. Kneeling next to Steve, he doesn’t touch; not yet at least. He takes a deep breath before trying to get Steve out of this, “Steve, Steve, you’re okay.”

Steve only sobs harder, shaking his head.

“Stevie, hey, come on. You’re not there, whenever you are. It’s not real” he hopes his voice doesn’t sound as shaky as he feels, “Stevie, you’re at the Byers house, in the backyard.”

“You’re lying, this-this is a trick!” Steve sobs out, “it-it won’t work, I don’t know anything about any Russian code-”

There’s a few gasps around him and he looks over his shoulder to find Dustin’s eyes widen and Robin’s face pales even more, “It’s- it’s gotta be a flashback, he’s- we- Eddie, he thinks he’s in the bunker, from last year- under Starcourt”

“I don’t know anything, I swear. I work at scoops ahoy, I just scoop ice cream. Please, please let me go!”

All he can do is feel heartbroken all over again, feels helpless as Steve sobs in front of him. Eddie looks away from everyone else and focuses on Steve instead. He doesn’t want to touch yet, doesn’t want to make Steve freak out even more.

“Steve, listen to me. You are not at the bunker, you’re safe. I’m Eddie, it’s Eddie. It’s July 4th, 1986. You are not at Starcourt, you’re safe” his voice wavers towards the end, listening to Steve sob is not what he wanted to ever hear.

All Steve does is shake his head and sobs more.

Taking another moment to breathe, he leans towards him slowly and pulls the cloth off Steve’s head. “Open your eyes, please sweetheart. Open them and you’ll see me, see Eddie.”

Behind him he can hear someone else crying, can hear Joyce and Hopper whispering to each other and hear everyone not in the know try and figure out why Steve is freaking out. It doesn’t pull his attention away though, his vision is just on Steve.

He refuses to look away, actually.

Steve’s tears don’t stop, the rocking though is finally stopping, his arms are still tight around his knees but he moves his head up and slowly blinks. It takes a few minutes and Eddie can see when it finally clicks in Steve’s mind. His face is suddenly white and he tightens his arms again, “Ed-Eddie?”

Nodding, he shuffles a little closer, “Yeah Stevie, it’s me. You’re okay”

“No, no- I” Steve’s eyes are red and wide as his eyes jump from him to everyone behind him, “I need to go- I can’t- I can’t-”

Without any words he moves quickly, gets up and helps Steve up. Tucking him under his arm and pulls close, leading him away from the house and now the shouts from everyone else. Eddie ignores them too, focus on getting Steve away.

They end up at his new trailer.

Eddie takes a moment in the kitchen to calm himself down a bit more before picking up the mugs of tea and making his way back into his room where Steve is. He pushes the door open, a small smile on his face as he makes his way over.

Steve has the blankets pulled all the way to his chin, he’s staring at the wall with tears still streaming down his face but there’s no more sobs.

“I got us some tea” he raises the Garfield mug up, “got your favorite cup too”

It causes a wobbly smile and Eddie’ll call that a small victory. Steve lets the blankets fall down and takes the mug, blowing it before taking a small sip. Eddie follows his lead and does the same. Only moving just to get under the blankets, making sure to rest his legs touching Steve’s.

It’s quiet the only noises coming from outside, from the other residents enjoying the holiday.

Even though the tea is gone, Steve still has the mug in his hands. They’ve been in the trailer for two hours now. Eddie doesn’t want to push, but he’s also very concerned and wants to make sure that he’s okay.

“Stevie, are you okay?”

Steve rolls the mug in his hands as he shrugs, “I don’t know, that um, that’s never happened before”

He nods, tapping the mug and once Steve lets it go, grabs it and places it next to his own mug. Looking at Steve, he’s never seen such a defeated look on his face. It’s wrong and Eddie hates it.

“It’s o- well, it’s not okay. I’m sorry the boys were assholes. You don’t have to tell me, not right now. We can just sit here and skip out on the party.” He won’t make him explain it, not right now.

That’s not important currently, what’s important is making sure Steve feels okay and safe again.

Steve just leans against the wall, a sigh coming out of his mouth before he looks at him. “I, I got tortured last year. Um, I haven’t told anyone. It was-”

He shakes his head and pulls him close to hug him, “Steve- Stevie, you don’t have to talk about it right now. We’ll talk about it tomorrow, right now I just want you to calm down and make sure you’re okay”

Steve looks at him and blinks back tears before nearly crashing them down against the bed. He tucked his head against Eddie’s neck and wraps his arms around him. Eddie does the same and holds him, rubbing his back and squeezing him close.

They stay like that, until the tears are gone and they can hear muffled fireworks going off now. Eddie’s on his back now with Steve cuddled next to him, head on his chest.

It’s a lot more intimate than they normally are, they’ve shared a bed before several times, actually. They’re close and both crave touch, but never this close. There’s something different swirling around them.

“Eds?”

He hums out and continues on with the pattern he’s making against Steve’s back with his fingers, “yeah?”

“It’s my birthday” Steve whispers it, like it’s a secret.

He freezes, hand completely flat against Steve’s back now. His whole body goes nearly stiff under him, because what?

“What?”

Steve shrugs, moves slightly to look at him, “today, it’s my birthday. I um, I’m officially 20”

He blinks and sits up more, confusion all over his face, “You- you got tortured on your birthday?”

The only answer he gets is a nod, Steve shifts back to cuddle him. “Yeah, kept it to myself. They, everyone, doesn’t know.”

It makes his heart hurt hearing that Steve was tortured on his birthday and that they didn’t know. It’s only as that thought goes through his mind, that he goes over what Steve said.

“They know it’s your birthday, right?”

Steve shook his head, squeezing his arms and hiding his face. He can feel his shirt start to get damp, making itself known that Steve is tearing up again.

“Stevie, why don’t the-” he shakes his head, deciding questions aren’t needed right now. He doesn’t need explanations, actually.

Right now all he wants is to hug and keep this man safe.

Eventually the sounds of fireworks die out, soon just chirps from birds and the wind blowing against the trees, muffled sounds of people laughing is all the white noise they need to fall asleep, along with how comfortable they both are.

They’re also emotionally drained, Steve especially.

~

He feels warm, comfortable and safe. He cuddles his pillow more and freezes for a split second when it shifts. It takes another second to remember where he is, who he’s with and what happened.

Steve’s cheeks burn as he shifts to look at Eddie under him, he’s still asleep. Looks relaxed and soft, beautiful. It makes his heart start to beat a little faster.

Eddie starts to open his eyes and he squints at him, “Staring is creepy, Stevie”

Quickly he shifts away from him and looks everywhere but at Eddie. He feels the bed move and hopes Eddie isn’t about to kick him out for staring.

“Hey, I wasn’t ready to give up with the cuddles” Eddie whines, and Steve knows that if he looks he’ll find a pout on Eddie’s face.

He shakes his head and fights back the smile, “I’m sorry”

“Don’t say sorry, I want the Stevie cuddles.” Eddie smiles and moves closer, wrapping his arms around him, “come on, it’s like-“ he glanced at his alarm clock, “it’s four in the morning, let’s sleep, okay? I won’t accept any sorry or explanations until the sun is out and I have breakfast with my favorite person”

All Steve can do is nod his head, slowly moving with Eddie to lay back down.

It’s quiet, Steve can feel Eddie’s fingers doing twirls and lines against his back. It’s slowing down and Steve can tell Eddie’s falling back asleep.

It’s nice, this is wonderful maybe even perfect. Steve wonders if this is what it’d be like if they were in a relationship together. If Eddie is even more touchy, if the nicknames extend past the normal Stevie and sweetheart.

“I can hear you thinking, Stevie”

He freezes and looks up to see Eddie already looking towards him, “sorry?”

“No need to be sorry, just, why are you still awake?”

Looking away, he thinks about it. Really thinks about it and maybe, just maybe, he could be a little more vulnerable with Eddie. Thinks that of all the people to immediately act and help him, was Eddie. That he took him away from all the eyes and took him home, gave him tea and held him.

So, he can be a brave right now.

Moving, he sits up and brings Eddie with him. He’s confused but moves willingly. They’re just looking at each other and he needs another moment to get his mind set. Taking a deep breath, he grabs hold on Eddie’s hands.

“Eddie, I need to tell you something and I don’t want this to ruin anything between us. I really, really hope this doesn’t ruin it. Because you’re important to me. So please, just listen to me and promise you’ll still be here”

Eddie blinks, confused and concerned.

“You can tell me anything, sweetheart.”

He nods and tightens his hands around Eddie’s before blowing out some air, “I, I thin- no, I know I love you. I’m in love with you, Eddie. For a while now but I was scared and worried that if I said that word, that I’d be left alone and you’d leave. But after what you did for me, I- I need you to know that I feel this way for you.”

It’s quiet and Steve can’t keep looking at Eddie as the time keeps passing by, he wants to bolt, wants to leave; needs to leave if Eddie stays quiet longer.

Feels like an eternity has passed before he feels Eddie’s hands on his face, as they move him to look at him. Makes him realize not only was he crying but Eddie’s tearing up now.

“Eddie I-”

“Don’t apologize, if that’s what you were going to do, please don’t apologize. Actually, stop apologizing to me today. I need you to realize I don’t need them, and I don’t need you thinking you have to leave, either.”

All he can do is shut his mouth, another sorry on the tip of his tongue. Eddie’s mouth tips to knowing smile, before he moves his hands down and around his neck.

“Stevie, I’m going to kiss you now. Okay?”

This is not where he thought he’d end up, but as Eddie smiles again before coming in close. He’ll take it.

He’s imagined kissing Eddie, of course. Has had dreams that woke him up needing a cold shower, had a million thoughts and wants, but it has nothing on actually kissing him.

The first kiss is salty from tears, it’s soft despite the chapped lips. It’s everything and more. His favorite part isn’t the kiss itself, though this will become addicting eventually, no his favorite part is Eddie resting his forehead against his own and the quick kiss to his nose before pulling back with a smile and, “I’m in love with you too, honey love”

Steve matches that smile, feeling high and happy. So happy, he immediately wraps his arms around Eddie in a joyful hug with tears and laughter. “I love you so much, Eddie”

They spend the rest of the night curled together. The next morning will be filled with more laughter, kisses and cuddles. Eventually they’ll talk about what happened, those explanations will be needed and heard. Someday, in the future, Steve will be honest with everyone and tell them what he went to.

For now, they’re settled on the couch lazily making out. Everything else put on hold, they deserve a lazy day together.

— —

UH, this was supposed to be a short hurt/comfort thing for the 4th of July, but it uhhhh got away from me? Like really got away. Anyway, i hope you enjoyed it! If you saw any mistakes let me know!!

Quick shout out to @i-less-than-three-you for helping out with this! Thanks for listening to me talk myself into this and then help with some of the plot )she came up with Steve’s birthday idea 😈) so thank you and I love you 🩷

Permanent tag list: (if you want to be added let me know!!)

@spectrum-spectre @itsfreakingbats @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @gregre369 @zerokrox-blog @bookworm0690 @flustratedcas @carlprocastinator1000 @marvelmwah @solliesolesito @navnae @i-less-than-three-you

[genericpuff]

Hi! So this is coming from a place of genuine concern, LR Persephone isn't going to have DID right? I know you probably can't reveal much but DID is already a very stigmatized disorder so I'm always worried when I see the Signs, I hope you understand lol

I understand fully your concerns, and I hope I can reassure you in my own intentions regarding Kore / Persephone that the goal is not to demonize or stigmatize DID in any way. I actually do regularly interact with a family member who's currently seeking an official diagnosis for it, and have my own firsthand experiences with my own mental health and symptoms of childhood trauma that are intersectional with that of DID. Of course, that doesn't mean that I'm immune to stigmatizing, but rest assured that I am aware of the stigmas surrounding DID and the misconceptions that a lot of people have about it, no thanks to how it's been portrayed in mainstream media.

If I can add some additional and necessary context as to why I chose to write Kore like this, much of how I'm writing her is based on how she was initially presented to us in S1 of LO, particularly through the personification of her wrath:

I really liked this concept and was subsequently disappointed when it seemed to get left behind (though considering how LO turned out, maybe that was for the better lmao) I've always enjoyed these "inner conflict" character dynamics, but I also understand from years of writing characters like this that much of these types of tropes are often intersectional with common misconceptions and stigmas surrounding personality disorders and mental illness.

Within the context of Rekindled, Kore does not specifically have DID but her experiences are clearly intersectional with it. Ultimately my goal is to empathize, not demonize. As much as "Persephone" may be currently presenting herself as a sort of snarky "alter ego" of Kore, she is not evil, no more "evil" than Kore herself, because they're ultimately of the same mind and body, flaws and all. Persephone is often speaking truths that Kore is simply not willing to admit or able to face, the worst of which we've yet to uncover, but will be necessary to overcome. There will certainly be times when Kore's actions - spurred on by the voice of Persephone in her ear - may be ugly or wrong, but I hope in the end that I'll achieve my goal in expressing that everyone - even immortal gods - can always have another chance to heal, to forgive themselves for their past, and to do right by themselves for the sake of a brighter future. This will apply to other gods in the story as well, many of whom also share Kore's struggles and experiences.

And, assuming I do my part and deliver on my promises, there will be closure for Kore/Persephone, the readers who relate to their struggles and experiences, and many of the other characters who were hung out to dry in the original comic. That's definitely one of my biggest goals with this retelling, at least! (•̀ᴗ•́)و It's definitely one of my riskier moves as the nature of the subject is very sensitive, but I'm giving it my all in the hopes that it pays off in a more nuanced and in-depth character arc for Kore/Persephone than what we got in LO that can hopefully be embraced as a message of acceptance and self-love. And y'all can hold me to that (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

[annie-creates]

I don't really hate you

Pairing: Lady Lesso x reader

Genre: angst to fluff

Words: 1100

Note: This probably isn't exactly what you meant, but I got this idea and it felt right writing this. If you want I'll write something really really angsty for you later on. I hope y'all like this anyway.

Your day was not going great. Your first class was a disaster, you forgot to bring the tests for the second one and after lunch, the joined class of Evers and Nevers was a nightmare. Noone listened to you, nobody wanted to do the homework and someone even threw a tomato at the black board as you were writing down important bullet points.

You didn’t know if you wanted to cry, scream, hysterically laugh or all at once. Your last hope was the last class of the day, nothing could go wrong with gardening, right? You’ll let them roan the gardens and hopefully nobody gets eaten before the end of the day. You couldn’t be more wrong though. As you gave out instructions to replant some of the flowers into bigger pots, you already heard one breaking and saw another student running around with the gardening scissors.

“This horrible day will never end,” you mutter helplessly as you chase the kid with the scissors.

You spend the class cleaning up broken ceramics and glass, hoping at least the flowers will survive the rampage of your students. Honestly you had more faith in the plants than yourself. You locked yourself up in your office for the remaining of the school day, grading last week’s tests and having to fail a few kids, which didn’t add up any cheerfulness into your already sour mood.

When you finally returned into your shared chambers with Leonora, you were ready to give up. She was already out of her usual work clothes, a sign she returned much sooner than you did, reading her book on magical potions at the couch. She gave you a little smile that froze on her face when she noticed your disheveled state.

“I swear I’m turning in my resignation tomorrow. I’m gonna grow grey hair from those kids before the school year ends,” you complained, walking to your dresser.

“Oh come on babe, they’re not that bad,” she tried to reason with you.

“No, they’re even worse. Little inept devils…” searching through your special drawer you don’t agree.

“Well that would mean I’m doing something right…” Lesso smiled but it didn’t amuse you.

“They’re always throwing things, screaming things, breaking things… babe have you seen my cookie?” You suddenly ask as you can’t find your favourite dessert in the stack of sweets you keep for emergencies such like today.

“What cookie?” She asks innocently not looking up from the book.

“The one I like? Chocolate chip with a pinch of salt? It’s my favourite and I’d swear I had one in here…” you narrow your eyes at her.

“I haven’t seen it…” Leonora tries to deny but you see the guilt in her posture not being able to look you in the eyes.

“Oh my god! I can’t believe you’d eat my dearest cookie! I’ve been waiting for it the whole day! And I’ve had a horrendous day!” You scream at her on the verge of tears, your comfort food being inevitably gone. “Why would you do that!”

“Jesus babe calm down, it’s just a cookie alright..?” Lesso was taken back by your sudden outburst.

“Yeah maybe to you it’s just food! Then why are you taking it from me!” You scolded her.

“It’s not that big of a deal, you’ll get other cookies…” Lesso argued.

“Ugh, I can’t believe you! You destroyed the only joy a had of the whole day! I hate you!” You shouted with a loud bang shutting the door behind you as you left.

Lesso starred at the spot you were at just moments ago, too stunned to even think, her book long forgotten. What has gotten into you? Were you really that much stressed today? Sure, you were always protective of your sweets, but it was just food, right? Nothing to be too upset about, nothing you couldn’t get yourself the next day.

But to you it wasn’t, the little nice biscuits and delights you kept hidden just for your own pleasure were your comfort. It brought you calmness and overview, caressing your nerves like honey on your soul. And now your favourite one was gone and it ruined your day even more, for you were in excited anticipation to finally eat for many hours by now.

While you were sulking in the now empty dinning hall, Leonora realized she was probably in the wrong this time. You were after all a sweet fragile soul and she knew she shouldn’t have eaten from your secret stash of snacks. She just didn’t think you’d notice, a big mistake on her part. And you always had this rule you shouldn’t be going to sleep while angry at each other, so she had to fix this fast, or you’ll be even more cranky in the morning.

The door behind you open with a creak, your girlfriend coming in. It didn’t happen often she admitted to her mistakes, but you were her one weak spot and she couldn’t live with you being mad at her. Plus, she did kind of bring this on herself. So now she’s gonna make it all better and make it up to you.

“Hey, are you still mad at me?” your silence was answer enough to her dumb question. “Look, I’m really sorry I ate your cookie. I should have remembered how important they are to you. I have something to make up for it though.”

That piqued your interest, along with the amazing smell that came in with her, so you slowly turned around to see what she came up with as a piece offering. The tray of cookies smelled absolutely amazing and a fine fume was still coming up off them, as if there were in the oven just moments ago.

“Did you make this right now?” you questioned.

“Something like that,” she wasn’t willing to admit what a scene she did in front of the kitchen staff to get them to bake a batch at this hour. “They’re not salty but I’ll find you some tomorrow, I promise. I’m really sorry about what I said, your sweets are important.”

“I don’t really hate you, I’m sorry,” you apologize also as you’re already taking one of the delicious delights off her hands.

“Can we go to bed now and enjoy these?” she tries to bribe you.

“Yea, I guess,” you agree, taking the tray and shielding them from her to keep it all to yourself.

“If you eat them all you’re cleaning the crumbs,” Leonora warns you but your pointed look shuts her up real quick. “Alright, I’ll clean the crumbs.”

[yugimoto]

chilchuck cosplay rundown / tutorial! I say tutorial loosely cause I didn't take any progress photos...but hopefully some of this helps someone!

I received a couple messages on instagram about this cosplay so I thought it'd be easier to make a post about it! here's a little rundown for anybody who needs it...!

I only had a week to make this costume so there isn't a ton of actual sewing involved! (I got most of the materials in advance)

the main part's essentially just a big quilt - I used a faux suede fabric (which was a little stretchy, I really don't recommend this but it was the best colour match I could find with my time limit! I think it would've come out a lot smoother using something without stretch!) I used 2 ounce wadding/batting! the process is just measuring a bunch of rectangles, using stick and spray to glue the wadding between the two fabrics, and then sewing along all the lines. time consuming but it's not hard!

I cut the quilt I'd made into two rectangles, essentially you have two blankets - then I measured the neck and armholes based on a tank style dress I owned. if you're a little unsure about this you can make a mockup first before cutting the real thing! then I sewed the shoulders together, now it's just one long blanket with a head hole!

I ended up trimming the sides of the front half before the next bit to help it conform to my body a little better but I had to wear it backwards on the day for reasons I'll explain in a minute T__T

next I sew bias tape down the sides and around the neck hole, I folded the bottom ends and sewed them by hand to hide the stitches. you could probably just use bias around the whole thing but I was low on materials!

the buckles at the sides are literally just watch straps. the original listing I bought from's gone now but I'm pretty sure these are the exact same thing. I bought 16mm and trimmed the ends a little, I attached them using gorilla superglue!

the gloves are these gloves with the fingers cut off, any brown leather gauntlet style glove will do, and the scarf's one I found on vinted. it was a long scarf originally, I zigzag stitched down where I wanted it to end, cut it, then sewed the two ends together. the stitching's a little wonky but you can't really tell when it's folded over!

the belt's from amazon and the pouch is this one from aliexpress - I already had one of these for casual wear, it's a little foraging bag! it folds out into a bigger pouch!

I didn't take photos but the shirt's just one I found on vinted and the jeans are topshop joni jeans I'm pretty sure! the boots are just a pair I found secondhand and hot glued a strip of pleather to!

my wig is this one in chestnut brown, I always use coscraft for wigs they're my favourite! I trimmed it a little shorter and used thinning scissors over the whole wig!

last but not least is the ears. I almost didn't use these and I'm so glad I did! I felt so silly and cute wearing them! I used these ears, but searching "prosthetic big ears" should come up with others if you do a little digging! I don't have any experience with prosthetics aside from a pair of hobbit ears I wore a few years back for halloween but they're not too tricky to apply.

I trimmed the edges down a little and applied my foundation to them, powdered them to seal it and then added a little blush to the tips. I used ben nye prosthetic adhesive to glue them on! glue on my ears and onto the prosthetic ears, let it get tacky then just held them in place until they stuck.

be careful with the adhesive when you're applying it because my sibling accidentally spilled it down my costume... that's why I ended up wearing it backwards on the day...

I was worried I wouldn't be able to hear with them on but it's not too bad! cons are loud anyway and I'm autistic so the slight noise cancelling effect wasn't bad at all!

another piece of advice I'd give is to buy one of these style neck fans, you can buy them on amazon! I wore this during the day underneath my scarf and it helped a lot!

[yridenergyridenergy]

Is there a way to know if members are healthy and feeling well? Shinya's last video, he looked really really thin, the voice note on his last blog update felt sick and tired. The tour was very compact, the bus looked uncomfortable (for musicians over 45 years old, I mean, c'mon). They must be resting now, but I feel that their company is exhausting them for the sake of saving/gaining more money. I don't know if it's just me, and I'm worrying for no reason. Does the company even do routine check-ups on their health? Is it reasonable for us as fans to ask this to their management?

Shinya always has a particular voice, but I haven't heard that voice note that you mention. It's no news that Shinya is incredibly skinny, as even h.Naoto's assistant commented that he was the only one that she could wrap the dark tunic on at the smallest holes/size and she seemed surprised.

Traveling and being on a plane in general tends to make people sick, so if he did hit a bad patch, hopefully he is getting better now that he is back in Japan.

For Shinya, I have my own opinion, but at the end of the day, I'll trust that he is a midlife adult who must have at least learned how to manage maintaining that size in a sustainable way.

Nobody on the band has been outspoken about the downsides of touring overseas this year except Kyo, and I'm always baffled by how much Kyo is allowed to complain so publicly about his own management hah. Good for him, and I mean, he's an artist and their primary one when you think about it, so you can't really restrain him much.

It's difficult for me to form an opinion on the management's frugal tendencies when I don't actually see numbers. All I know is that Kyo is able to afford Gucci, expensive toys, etc. and when that impersonator was arrested, from what I understood, he assured us that he wouldn't have ever needed to ask for loans like that. Whatever sacrifices the band is making to apparently make touring abroad profitable at least translates into them being well paid, even if that's just from performing in Japan.

Money also may play only a small role into the decision to have them sleep on a bus and only carry one luggage each. Extra luggage would have to be checked in and could get lost. Checking into hotels, where fans are also staying, presents its own series of issues.

Either way, Kyo had mentioned going to see a doctor in a monthly birthday video on kyo-online (I won't give more details but it was a super minor issue, don't worry) and I think even in another type of content where it sounded more like a regular checkup.

Ultimately, they are adults, they're the main moneymakers fo sun-krad and I'm sure that they would be able to push back against at least future decisions if their health could be jeopardized in the long term. Kyo had mentioned in 2012-2013 that he had warned his management time and time again that the grueling schedule of their tours and shows would grind down his throat, so it was no surprise to him when it became so bad that he needed surgery and the band had to go on a hiatus. I'm sure that everyone learned from that, and Kyo's singing has been spot-on every time I have seen him since 2015 or so.

[kenjakusbrainstem]

Defenseless (Mahito x Reader)

Contains: Rape, body horror, multiple limbs, Mahito's hand cock (as mentioned in my other fics).

Hello! Day 15 of Kinktober: Noncon. For the amount of Mahito dub/noncon that I do write, this was kinda difficult. I tried to make sure it was different than the other Mahito stuff I've done, don't want things to seem too samey. I wanted to try something new, which is why I took a scene with my oc and changed it. Hopefully it still reads well despite being plucked out of that plot. Crossposted to Ao3 under the same name and shared to twt at kenjakusbrain. Comment or rb if you have any thoughts or want to hear more about my AU, perhaps I'll post some of it after kinktober.

The school was supposed to be a safe place, one where there were plenty of people around to keep students safe. Especially at a Goodwill Event, when the teachers from multiple schools were there on the same campus. This year's Goodwill Event had been a disaster thus far. You’d gotten separated from your classmates and decided to simply search for low level cursed spirits to exorcise when the strange veil lowered. 

Despite the supposed safety, you knew something was wrong when you attempted to reach out to your classmates via cellphone but were unable. With Yuuta overseas you normally paired up with Inumaki, your technique’s meshing fairly well. It was helpful to nearly any sorcerer to be paired with you though, as your ability was to use reversed cursed technique on others. Your weapon proficiency didn’t usually matter, but since this was supposed to be a friendly battle, you only had your wits and two daggers you weren’t fully comfortable with to protect yourself. 

While you were confident in your ability to exorcise some low level curses, the uncertainty of what was going on had you on edge. 

Slowly you crept toward a part of the campus people rarely went to, you neared the path to the Tomb of the Star Corridor, assuming that there would be some form of guard there. As you made it to the edge of the wooded area near the stairs, you were shocked to find the end of the barrier. It seemed whatever was going on had nothing to do with Tengen. 

It made sense to you that whatever the strange barrier was, that is where the trouble had to be. It wouldn’t hurt to hide or at least find someone of authority to alert. 

You met surprisingly little resistance as you burst through the veil, heading over toward the only building you could see. If you remembered correctly, it was a warehouse that the school used to store cursed objects. Looking around, you didn’t see any guards, so you slowly approached the building before slipping in through the door quietly. 

Inside wasn’t what you expected to see, two horribly transfigured humans laid on the floor of the storage room. You froze, hands immediately flying to your daggers as you looked around. It seemed like it was just you and the transfigured humans. Remembering the work of the Patchwork curse, you were on edge. 

Kneeling next to one of the bodies, you attempted to use your technique to assist them in some way. Focusing all of your energy into the palms of your hands, you attempted to restore the assistant that was still moving. Unexpectedly, right before your eyes you watched as the assistant slowly morphed back, his skin returning to a normal shade. You checked the pulse and to your surprise it was faint.

This changed things, unfortunately you felt drained, not expecting to exert that much energy. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to get the assistant back to your teachers soon.

“Oh what do we have here? Did you do this?” A playful voice filled the room. You looked up, shocked to hear another person when you could have swore the room was empty moments ago.

There was no doubt in your mind who it was when he stepped closer, stitches visible on his face, barely obscured by his long blue hair. The curse had an excited look on his face, like he’d just discovered a new toy to play with. As you both looked at the man that used to be transfigured in front of you, you thought to yourself that this was the only time you would have rather been too late to save someone.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, standing upright. Your hands gripped your daggers but with the energy you just used, you couldn’t help but feel exhausted. Still you weren’t going to back down, that wasn’t what a sorcerer would do.

The curse laughed, taking a step toward you. You couldn’t help but step back, but you miscalculated, tripping over the other transfigured human on the ground and stumbling onto your back. The move was a grave mistake, you felt yourself getting dizzy as your head cracked against the floor.

“You managed to change one of my toys back! That’s so strange, if you came with me I wouldn’t have to worry about them breaking so easily. Say, doesn’t that sound fun?” The curse sounded much more excitable than you expected. You hadn’t expected him to speak with the enthusiasm of a child.

The dizziness in your head made it hard to fully comprehend what he was talking about. When he said toys did he mean the assistants? Confusion mixed with fear in your mind to create panic, though your hands gripped your weapons tightly even on the ground, you were somehow less confident than normal in your ability to protect yourself.

You didn’t have the chance to find your voice, because he was on top of you in a flash. The curse was much faster than you had expected. He didn’t touch you immediately, instead choosing to cage you in. For some reason this scared you more, knowing enough about him to know that his abilities functioned through touch. What could he have planned if not killing you right away.

“I’m not allowed to kill any students, but if I hit you hard enough you should forget most of this,” His words didn’t match the tone he was using. The curse sounded like he was discussing a fun pass time he was unable to partake in, not murder. Even though he hadn’t said much, you didn’t want to listen any longer. The pain in your head was already making your head throb, something about trying to understand the curse just made it throb worse. 

You held up your weapons, ready to strike if he moved any closer. Or you thought you were. Before you knew it your hands were empty, daggers ripped from them by a limb protruding from his back that you somehow hadn’t noticed until it was too late.

“Now since you can negate my abilities on others, I wonder what you can do to yourself,” The curse thought aloud, hands reaching for your face. You quickly moved your arms up to protect yourself, not that you could do much. 

As you felt his hands grasp your forearms, you knew you needed to act quickly. Your skin felt like it was boiling hot where his hands touched, as if the skin could slough off onto the ground or be reshaped like playdoh. Though you were exhausted, you pushed all of your remaining energy into your arms. Even with your best attempt at keeping yourself safe, you could feel his power was much stronger than yours.

“Fascinating! No one’s ever been able to resist Idle Transfiguration before! I wish I could take you back with me, you’re exactly what he’s looking for in a sorcerer,” He rambled as he spoke, a look of amazement in his eyes. He was clearly excited, but you had no idea who or what he was talking about. 

It was hard for you to focus, though you’d stopped his attack it felt like something was seriously wrong with your arms. In the dim light of the warehouse it was so hard to tell though. 

Opening your mouth to speak, you were stopped by a pair of unexpected lips on yours. The kiss, if you could call it that, full of tongue and teeth. His tongue slipped into your mouth even though you tried to close it. Everything about him was so overwhelming and strange, you’d never felt a kiss so terrifying before.

You tried to lift your arms in an attempt to push him away, but you could barely move them an inch without pain shooting up your body. You had put all of your remaining energy into trying to block his attack, and it hadn’t even been able to stop it. Groaning at the pain in your arms, you wanted nothing more than for him to leave or knock you out. Pulling away from the kiss, he giggled at what you were sure must have been a horrified look on your face.

“You’re getting me so excited just thinking about it. Say will you stay quiet for me so I can try something? I really think you’d be perfect for one of his experiments,” His words made your blood run cold. They sounded so threatening, and who exactly was he talking about? As far as you knew, this curse operated alone, so to have him actively referencing a partner of sorts was alarming.

Without warning the curse flipped your skirt up, exposing your panties to him. You tried to wiggle away, but it was no use, you were on the floor nearly pushed up completely against the wall. The only way out was through him and that wasn’t happening without help.

You watched in fear as the hand in front of you changed shape and size, taking the form of an erect cock. How hard did you hit your head, exactly? You didn’t remember anyone saying that he could manipulate his body into different shapes, but you also just might not have been paying attention. Now wasn’t the time to worry about that, you attempted to close your legs, but you felt two hands wrap around your ankles. 

“Even at a time like this you’re trying to fight back? What a good little sorcerer you are,” The mocking tone in his voice made you angry. You felt the blunt head of the cock rubbing against your pussy through your panties, as if he were teasing you instead of torturing. You lifted your hips to try and get away from him, but the hands around your ankles pulled you closer.

The sudden jerking movement made you hit your head on the ground again, vision blacking out for a moment. Through the haze of fighting to stay conscious, you felt a hot, stretching pain as he entered you. Forcing your eyes open, you were met with the mischievous patchwork grin staring at you, he looked like he had just played a harmless prank on you. Like he wasn’t violating you.

The curse’s movement inside you was slow at first, filling you up carefully as if he were measuring your insides. You could feel the head of his cock pressing up against your cervix, a shiver running down your spine at being filled completely. No human would be able to do this, the strange image of just how large the cock inside you was filling your mind. 

You watched his smile grow wider as he slowly pulled out of you. It almost felt pleasurable, the way the thick cock felt inside of you. That is until you felt the stretch of the head against your entrance. The curse paused, not pulling all the way out of you yet. For a moment you thought he was finished, but that thought was only able to linger in your mind for a few seconds before he slammed his cock back into you.

The curse’s thrusts had gone from soft exploration to a violent attack, each one coming right after the other. You choked, having trouble even breathing as you felt the head of his cock slamming up against your cervix. The pain of being fucked so hard by something far too big made you feel sick, but the way his cock rubbed up against your walls felt good. If each thrust didn’t make you want to cry, you could have at least pretended to enjoy it.

His pace increased, the speed he was fucking into you made it impossible to try and get away. You didn’t even have time to think between thrusts. Trying to make it bearable, you attempted to focus on the drag of his cock inside you, it did feel good, the way you could feel the veins against your walls. It wasn’t enough though, you couldn’t take your mind off of the pain.

As quickly as it started though, he froze inside of you. Something had caused him to stop and you had no idea what it was. Was someone here to save you? Had you been found? Part of you didn’t want to be found like this, no one needed to see just how weak you had been.

The curse rammed his cock into your cervix again, pressing in and not moving away. 

“It seems I’ve gotta go now, the veil is gone, you’re so much fun though I hate to leave you like this. Next time I catch you, I’ll finish this. Don’t miss me too much, cutie!” As soon as he was finished speaking, he ripped his cock from you. You felt something inside you tear with the violent motion. His hands left your ankles, though you wanted to get up and fight him, you were unable to do nothing more than curl in on yourself. 

You watched through teary eyes as he picked something up. Had he been carrying something when you first encountered him? Your brain was too scrambled to remember any details. 

“Oh right, you’ve seen me! Don’t want you remembering too much,” He giggled to himself, again his speech making you think of a child. 

He stepped over you, his shoes right in front of your face. You didn’t have time to register the sharp kick to your temple as you felt consciousness leave you.

[paperstarwriters]

Abyssmal

short and sweet fic lol. It's been difficult squeezing time to write in between my classes as of late, but I wanted to write something out for MerMay. Just to try it, since I've never done MerMay before. Hopefully I'll be able to another one next year and onwards and all that <3

anyways I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Mer!Muriel x reader

Warnings: protective Muriel, bittersweet ending

Summary: You want to protect Muriel and his fellow Mer-folk from getting caught in traps set out by wealthy billionaires hoping to be able to present a spectacle at their next dinner.

Muriel wants to protect you from getting murdered by the people with harpoons sent by those same wealthy billionaires. Unfortunately for you Muriel has more of an advantage in keeping you for himself safe.

He's trying to keep you safe.

Masterlists | The Arcana Masterlist

Word count: 2,666

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

You dream of water sometimes.

All consuming, all encompassing, filling your lungs, filling your ears, nothing but the muted swirl of bubbles around you as you float in near weightlessness, watching sunbeams pierce the veil that ripples between one shade of blue and another.

Some would call it drowning, but there’s no need for air when you dream.

A bubble escapes your lips. Your lungs burn with the need for air.

So how do you survive?

How are you—

A hand presses against your back, cradling you as you feel the pressure of the water pull past you. It’s worse than wind as it presses through your face at the sudden onset of speed, it’s worse than the biting chill that wind presses against your cheeks, for the water clings, and pulls much harder than air would ever dare to.

Your lungs, all too suddenly begin to burn, the hands around you tightening as if it knows, pushing you forward to all the more sooner let you breech the surface.

And breech you do.

Water sprays around you as you surface, gasping for air, in big heavy gulps, warring with the need to cough out the water that had slipped through your nose. Clinging to a shoulder—who’s you aren’t quite sure—you cough and hack struggling to wipe the water from your face and nose and mouth, trying to see through the fat droplets that cling to your eyelashes and threaten to drop into your eyes blinding you all over again.

You pry an eye open and find yourself immediately blinded by sunlight.

It takes a few blinks to adapt to the brightness, fluttering open and closed as you furiously wipe the water from your eyes. Your eyes flutter open and you catch a bright gleam of blue—light glittering off the water’s surface forcing your eyes back closed. Another attempt at prying them open earns you a glittering eyeful of green, glass shards perhaps, you can’t quite tell, eyes promptly forced back closed before you can get a good look.

Your eyes are still closed, still being scrubbed from the water and sunlight when the arms that held you press you against the ledge of a rocky surface allowing you, to finally feel the cold and rough embrace of land a stark contrast to the hands that once held you. It takes you a moment, coughing water and shivering, as the hand that saves you gives you a rough pat on the back, encouraging as much water as they can from your lungs, encouraging another mouthful of water from out of your stomach.

It takes a while, but your eyes finally flutter open once more, even if the water stings as it slips past your eyelashes, even if you have to furiously blink to get it out of your eyes, you still manage to open them.

And in the shadows of the cavern you find yourself in, his green eyes glow familiarly bright.

Dark hair floats around him, almost looking like dark tendrils reaching out from around him, but his eyes, bright green cut through the shadows, unblinking even as water sloshes over them.

He watches you in silence, as if staring at something new and unknown, despite the number of times you’ve met before. At the very least he no longer bears his sharp jagged teeth.

You offer him your hand and watch as he pulls away for a moment, frightened like a small animal, as if the body hidden below the water’s surface wasn’t massive. As if it didn’t surround you with it’s size. Still he waits until you dip your hand beneath it’s surface and wait for him to approach, before his hand entwines with yours, and he pulls himself, to the surface’s edge.

He needs no help up, capable of hauling his upper body to the stony surface with one thick arm alone, resting his chest on the stony edge as he peers up at you still holding your hand. He seems relaxed, holding himself up by that water’s edge, though then again, perhaps his tail helps with the support.

He runs his fingers over your hands in careful curious little strokes, rubbing at your short nails with the pads of his fingers, half scales and half flesh. His own nails are more akin to talons, ones he carefully holds away from your skin.

He touches you as if he’s never held you before, as if he’s worried that you might run away, and yet, as soon as you reciprocate, as soon as you trace your fingers along a familiar pattern along his hand, you find him squeezing your hand and pressing his cheek against the softness of your palm, a small smile growing on his lips.

You wonder if it’s his name. If it’s how you can say Muriel in his absence of words and speech.

Though mer-folk are capable of speech, as seen by their ability to trade and argue against overfishing in their oceans Muriel remains silent, the pale streak around the skin of his neck the likely source of his agony. Though you converse easily with words carved into dirt, it doesn’t stop you from lamenting his injury. You don’t know what had hurt him there, some stray piece of plastic, the webbing of a net, or some malicious human behaviour you cannot tell, but you resent it all the same.

It’s why you keep returning here after all. Why you keep meeting.

“Thank you.” Your words are soft, hoarse as you cough up another lungful of water. Muriel watches in quiet horror as you do. He reaches up, as if hoping to do something to aid you, but hesitates a look of confusion crossing his face before he pulls back returning his hold to entwine with yours and squeeze acting as a form of comfort in lieu of a hug. You squeeze in turn offering him a small smile, and another “thank you” as your sputtering finally draws to a close.

Once more the silence returns, and though you squeeze his hand to offer reassurance, and he squeezes yours in turn, the silence is heavy with unspoken words. The faint crash of waves against the stoney ledge and the cavern’s walls echoes, the sound of birds and trees and wind is audible from the opening above, but the absence of words and the weight of his stare on you still breed a wealth of discomfort.

He squeezes your hand.

He knows what you want to say.

You still say it. Of course you do.

“I have to go back.” And his eyes narrow, levelling a bitter glare your way. “Muriel, please. It’s not safe for you down there.” He gestures sharply at you and you bite the urge to roll your eyes. “I know, I know, it’s not safe for anyone, but someone has to dismantle it, and it’s better that a human gets trapped than a mer.”

He pushes himself further up to the surface, shaking his head furiously hands gesturing wildly, before he pauses and presses a sharp nail into the dirt.

’They want to hurt you too.’ He scribbles out.

“They will hurt me regardless,” you retort. He begins to write but you interrupt him before he can. “Muriel. I know how you feel about that cage. I promise I’ll be fine okay?” His eyes flicker up to you almost pleading for a moment as his hand furiously tries to scribble out more words. “Really Muriel. I saw the logo, I saw the chains around your wrist, I know that—”

“No.” He grabs you with his free hand. Pulling you close as if you wouldn’t be able to hear the rough gravel of his voice otherwise. As if you did not turn your whole attention to the low rumble of his voice. “No. You don’t. You don’t know.” He pulls you closer, holds you tightly, and yet you don’t find yourself worried at the threat of pain. You trust him too much perhaps, too used to him saving you from troubles. To used to returning the favour. “They hurt humans too. They’ll hurt you. I don’t want to lose you.”

It’s only when your hand dips into water where you expected stone that you yank yourself backwards, surprised at how far he had pulled you away, too entranced by the intensity of his eyes how he looked like he was almost going to cry, and the way he pulled you close as if offering a hug.

You want to hug him. You’re tempted to dip back into the water if only to offer him that hug, but he holds you back now, pressing you away where he once held you close.

“It’s dangerous,” he insists, voice somehow both smooth and strained. Strained with emotion. Smooth as if well-used. You’re tempted to reach forth and touch his neck, trace your fingers over that scar. Perhaps it’s old. Perhaps it had long since healed.

Perhaps—

“Stop.” The strain grows stronger, his hold on you firmer as one hand pulls away to catch your stray wrist, fingers following temptation before your mind could stop them, before you were even aware of what you were really doing. Yet, even aware of it now, you can’t find it in you to want to stop.

You just want to hug him. To hold him. Can he not see that?

Maybe it was underhanded, but maybe it could convince him. A hug, or perhaps even a kiss. An appeal to his heart, an appeal to the friendship you’ve built over so many—

Your stomach growls, the sound of it echoing through the cavern, like the growl of some beast. A growl that was somehow only scary to the tension resting on Muriel’s shoulders as they finally sag and a soft smile is sent your way. With gentle care, Muriel sets you back firmly upon dry land as he retreats into the water. He waves to you, making an eating motion, as if he couldn’t just tell you that he was going to get you food. With a sharp turn and a flash his tail, Muriel dives into the cold water below, leaving you watch his figure fade into the blue-green waters as he swims deeper and deeper away from you.

And once again, you find yourself alone in the familiar shadow of the cavern. It’s not all too bad of a place to linger. There is an opening above that lets in sunlight and moonlight, and Muriel had brought you the softest pillow and blanket you had ever used—after they had been dried out of course—but there is very little to do all on your own without Muriel to keep you company.

Not that you intend to stay here too long, but it would at the very least help measure the time. If you had a ball perhaps, you could measure how many times you could bounce and catch a ball to see how long it took Muriel to leave and return. If you had a ball you could figure more accurately how long until he was a reasonable distance from the cave.

Instead you measure by your heartbeat. It’s erratic now, anxious in the face of what you were about to do, and the possible time limit you had to get all your gear. You wouldn’t be able to get your abandoned wetsuit on in time, but you could probably grab your goggles, and your flippers maybe. Oxygen was no go, with canisters empty and unusable but you wouldn’t need to go that deep anyways—not compared to the depth of the cavern at least. You knew what mechanism you needed to trigger, just a simple pin you needed to pull. In and out, a simple task.

You dove beneath the water’s surface.

And Muriel watched you dive.

Again, he watches you swim

He understood why you were doing it, he knew full well your intentions—you had argued them to him time and time and time again, but it still pained him to watch, to see you try to sneak around him, to see you fail to recognize the danger posed to you.

You’re dealing with cruel humans. Humans who would not hesitate to hurt and maim anyone who got in their way, anyone who stopped them from collecting the mer-folk they sought to harvest.

He can’t exactly blame you for trying though. Maybe he could have been more explicit in his warning, maybe he could have told you, used his voice for once in his life.

But would you even listen to him then?

He still recalls the phantom sensations of your hands reaching for him, holding him, cradling him as if he were something soft and reverent—something worthy of reverence. You traced your fingers over his scales with the most gentle touch, uncaring that they may cut your softer skin. And the way you leaned in as if you wanted more. A hug a kiss, whatever, the mere thought alone filled him with that wretchedly dark sense of greed.

But… he could be greedy now, couldn’t he?

His teeth and tongue itch, longing to taste the very thing he’s wanted since he’s met you—since you told him your name. Precious, precious thing to have. A valuable gift he will never forget. For so long he’s longed to feel the sound of it his mouth, to feel the ridges of the syllables and the hollows of the vowels. He wants to engrave the very shape of it on his tongue.

He wants to sing you your name.

He knows what it will do to you, he knows what will happen.

But your recklessness makes his greed seem noble in comparison, and none of his other songs seem to last long enough.

He’s just trying to keep you safe. To keep you from getting killed by those divers that you still don’t know about, wielding harpoons, and the same symbols that litter those cages. He sings to keep you safe, he sings to keep you alive.

He sings to bring you back to him.

He sings your name, and the melody—the praise the words of fond affection sung in a tongue you’d never understand—all come almost second nature to him. Like breathing.

A pang of pain strikes his chest. He breathes easy as you suffocate. But only for a little while. Only to keep you safe. To keep you from dying; from being captured, tortured and killed.

He watches as your body falls slack in the water, as your feet and arms drop to a halt and begin to float as you no longer exert effort to keep them close to you. When you turn it is slow and lazy as if you have no regard for the breath burning in your lungs, before you slowly begin to kick your feet and swim his way. Your lips part, and a small smile graces your lips as your very breath escapes you a swirling bubble of silver, but Muriel is quicker than you underwater, and he’s in front of you before you can dare breathe.

He presses his lips against yours.

He fills your lungs with his breath, shares the oxygen his gills pull from the water around you, and he carries you back up to the surface where you can breathe and he will not speak.

And again you will forget that you’ve tried this.

And again he gets to pull you back into his arms.

Maybe this time you’ll linger longer. Maybe this time he’ll let himself sing to you more, stopping you before you even begin to try.

Maybe this time he can make his offer. For you to become something that can explore and wander the water you love so dearly. For you to stay where it’s safe.

For you to stay with him.

Ah, the greed of a siren. He doesn’t want to ever let you go.

[mantisgodsart]

@bug-oc... round ONE! Finally! Still counting this as "round one" of transmutations because of the blog round numbers despite the fact that we've already done a round of like two bugs! We... didn't realize how many of these characters were yellow until it was actually time to draw them. It's like we went in with a theme, and then stuck to it. Except for with Holly, who presumably lost the dress code along with their head. Please vote for our cool dune cricket in the handful of hours before this round ends, and thank you!

Individual characters and transmutation notes below cut.

[...though I briefly considered another form, limiting surface area relative to the size of the entity is crucial for stability in ectoplasmic entities, and I don't currently intend to attempt to form a "swarm", as similar entities often form in the wild - a more simple, and thus more stable, form is better. The energy pack in the subject's possession upon intake appears to be either nearly or fully impossible to reclaim, unfortunately - ghosts can be hard to separate from things with sentimental value, so it's likely a lost cause. I'll continue obsevation...]

Beera by @longeth-dayv. An actual design, this time, rather than our fucking-around-with-maybes! This one, we think, does a lot more for the actual character, though from our understanding of Luigi's Mansion the species choice might be slightly more "generic". We particularly enjoyed tinkering with the wire of the power pack - ghosts and transparent things are VERY fun to draw, and we liked working out where that wire would go in the areas normally hidden by the body. Long, winding lines are very fun to draw sometimes. Hopefully this one works better for you, too!

[...successful partial isolation of the fungal element proves both that it can be isolated and that transmutation of cordyceps symbiotes may be less of a barrier than previously thought. Results appear similar to "Moka" back in the first year of experiments, where the cordyceps remains untransmuted within the new body - is this a quirk unique to vertebrate physiology? The failed transmutation with Fulminis pulled from a largely bug pool, whilst both successful cordyceps transmutations have been with beasts.]

[The avian physiology doesn't seem to have produced much difference from reptilian, minus some differences in visible fungal growth, but the subjects started with varying quantities of visible fungal growth to begin with, and the magic present in both of the previous round's subjects presents an additional variable... at the very least, I know that the fungus on its own is either resistant or immune to conventional transmutation, considering Mop, though I still need to work out how the host-symbiote synthesis alters things...]

[I'll have to do further testing- I dearly wish that these subjects were easier to get my hands on, but I don't know where I would be able to source them in my own universe, much less if they even exist there, since I'm no longer certain if the time portal event through which I met Holly Holiyxeiul was from the past of my universe, the past of another universe, or the present of somewhere else. Omelette's successful transmutation proves that I can manufacture them, but I won't be certain as to the limits of this until I can collect samples...]

Butterscotch from @w-krajobrazie-zapomnienia. The wings on this took... FOREVER. Deciding to make Butterscotch a bird with individual "charring" on the feathers was an act of monumental hubris, and EASILY the most labor-intensive part of this page. Doing this in watercolor would have been easier, probably. Alas, if we want to be capable of using a marker, we must put effort into marker drawing. At the very least, we think the effect came out fairly well! We like the sort of "scorched" effect that Butterscotch's base design has, and though difficult to recreate in marker form, we think we pulled it off! Hope this works decently well for you.

[...expanding lizard experiments from the ones found in the former grounds of Five Pebbles to their closest resemblances in the fleshbeasts of our world, I found quite a few points of similarity. Though for obvious reasons, I haven't had the opportunity to observe any specimens of the original species, given that most vertebrate beasts have been extinct since before I was hatched, the underlying biology is similar enough that I could carry through a significant amount of understanding forward.]

[Though majority of traits seem typical for what I can observe from preserved specimens, I am noting some minor divergences - typical for the lizards of RW9089-1, but not, as far as I know, typical for the reptiles that once roamed the wastes. The subject has developed sensory whiskers, narrower than those observed on Black Lizards but seeming to serve a similar function of detecting scent and motion in the air.]

[Additionally, the subject has developed a short coat of setae across the back, with a similar texture to the subject's former ruff - some surface-level similarities have been found to the hair on the pelts of Northern Moths, particularly those found in areas where significant quantities of water make leviathans a dietary staple. Though fur "coats" can be found in RW-9089-1 specimens such as Strawberry Lizards, this trait is, as far as I can tell, unique to this specimen.]

[When following up, I'll want to examine the dorsal frills to be certain that former shape's traits are not overwriting the end shape's traits to too significant of a degree - this is not an unknown trait in salamanders, but I'll need to be certain the structure isn't too similar to insect wing structure, as this many traits carrying over may indicate mid-point speciesation, which will mean any parts harvested will have wholly different traits from the originally sourced...]

Lote from @fallenvoidhere! We went through a handful of design iterations on this, mostly trying to home in on making it clear that it's the character - we sort of underestimated how much blue we'd need to add, but when you're turning into a lizard several times your normal size, it's probably understandable to lose a lot of your accessories…? Since the black on the design, respectively, is mostly accessories, most of these markings are improvised - we based our placement at least partially off of an orca whale, after going through a lot of markings from IRL salamanders. Originally, we planned to make the wing further in to the body a bit more transparent, but… well, as it turns out, we're probably a bit too used to watercolors for our own good, and working with markers is a bit of a different beast. We still think it came out pretty decent!

[...previously noted properties of fireflies appear to ease the rougher edges of this, though it will still need some refining before it's ready to go to market. A working prototype is better than I've gotten with previous generations of this recipe. I'll have to spend some time going over the readings to work out how to route things on anything that isn't a firefly.]

[With the way that most of these particular transmutations have gone, forming a "chamber" for the light before the light-producing compound itself is produced appears to be key for the survivablity of the subject. I suspect that there's a reason that the gas compound found in the component-introduction artefact hasn't been found in natural beings; despite the multitude of uses it has in charmcraft, mercury tends to be quite toxic with continual exposure, and mercury vapor in particular can be deadly. Another reason to stick to proper PPE..]

Nox from @erijuice! This one's quite a dramatic modification to the body plan. We may have gotten a bit carried away with things here, but... okay listen we will be fully honest with you this is just an elaborate plan on "glow wyrm". We based this one heavily off of tatzulwurms and similar creatures, and from there mostly just went into "having fun with it". The wings might grow in more later, or they might not - this was one of our personal favorite designs to draw, and though we sort of wish we tinkered with the pose a bit more, it's a bit hard to do here without running into issues with... space. Such is the consequence of making a big page o' transmuted bugs.

[...more experimental brews have their pros and cons, and with this one, it's a bit hard to define which is more present. On the plus side, the resulting form seems stable; lack of mandibles aside, it's standing and walking, and seems in fine health from the readings that I can see. Subject is alert and appears to have either full or very close to full former cognitive capacity, as shown by the multiple attempts at escape via manipulating the lock. It's just that I don't have the slightest clue what it is, or how its biology... works.]

[I intend to collect samples once the transmutation settles enough for properties to solidify. From initial testing, I think that its digestive system may rely partially on the fur-like... appendages, on its ventral side, but it's presently somewhat unclear. Upon coming into contact with some spare biological waste (see: Vessel project, Voidless transmutation attempts), the material appeared to "tangle" in the ventral fur, and was gradually dissolved over the course of about eighteen hours. From what I can gather of the data, this appears to have given off similar readings to a more conventional being having eaten a large meal? Will test with other forms of biological material once I can gather enough material to recreate the end organism if existing subject is lost.]

Yasmine from @darth-moth - and this is one that was very fun to do! The lines in this were very, VERY fun to work with, and we had quite a lot of fun just banging this out! - the design here is, probably fairly obviously, based heavily on Rain World's Rain Deer, as well as the multitude of "creepy deer" type stories that are practically everywhere on the internet. We were tinkering, if vaguely, with the concept of something like a terrestrial filter feeder, or similar - did you know that some whales have begun hunting behavior of pretending to be shelter so that fish will hide in their mouths and, thus, be eaten?

We'd picture that this, whatever it is, wanders places and passively snags prey with the dangling "fur", avoiding any sort of need for energy-intensive chases while keeping itself fed on whatever it walks over. A passive scavenger, probably with not a lot in terms of personal self defense. The vents on the sides, though they might be slightly unclear as is, are just about the only active method of offense - releasing toxic gas or something similar in an attempt to choke out predators. Our greatest desire in life is to design enemies for a soulslike poison swamp and we think that Yasmine is an excellent poison swamp candidate. We hope that this is a normal and usual motivation and ambition to have, we had a lot of fun with it.

[...uncontrolled crystal growth took over before the transmutation had completed, at roughly 4 days, 8 hours after the initial administration of the formula. I was lucky to be awake at the time - the remote monitor that I imbedded appears to have been consumed by the same phenomenon shortly before my arrival. I can only assume that this is due to pre-existing contamination - if not accounted for, Crystals can react very unpredictably to transmutations, and I didn't account for contamination of this assumed level.]

[Though I've observed this sort of effect before, it's been years since I've experienced a bloom of nearly this extent. What really surprises me is that the subject appears to still be moving, despite the extensive damage to... everything. The head appeared to have been fully destroyed at the time of arrival, and the crystals sprouting from the back have to have gone right through the ganglia - the weave of the transmutation has been fully destroyed, so it can't be sustaining itself on the former body's imprint, so I can only assume that the crystals captured some of the host body's mind during the overgrowth event and are attempting to continue to run the same old patterns of behavior.]

[I am currently unclear on how much of the former bug remains. What scans that I've taken suggest that the new crystals may have linked up with their companion Warden, though to what degree is still unclear. If I want to properly analyze this, I'll need to take it back to the lab. From there... diagnosis work, and maybe trying to work out how poor Snakemouth Den's lab security is, really.]

Holly from @thetroupemaster! Our first transmutation failure of the tournament! Holly, unfortunately, fell victim to poor lab safety - a more open-ended formula intended to gather a form from environmental factors, combined with some unfortunate lab contamination. This actually links in to a few personal headcanons on how Crystals work, though we don't think we've posted them before.

A crystal is a colonial organism, much like coral, storing both data and magical energy. Generally gathering energy from the sun to power itself, it grows so slowly as to be unnoticeable to the bug eye, but it does grow, and when exposed to, say, a charm engineered to allow for rapid change of a physical form, it has the potential to rapidly grow and consume that energy, stopping its growth either when it grows out of magical energy or when the handful of elements present in the original weave to let it change and grow are consumed.

Some people in external kingdoms do this to avoid having to constantly ship in Crystals from Bugaria, but it's not particularly common, as this method of growing Crystals tends to consume things like your other projects, or the lab shielding you probably want to keep intact, or yourself if you have the poor foresight to not properly protect yourself against contamination. Under control conditions, the chances of this happening are nearly zero! Under these conditions... well.

Crystals are very, very good at preserving memories. The rest of Holly's body, on the other hand, might be a bit of a lost cause at this point. You can work in a lab without seeing things, right...?

...yeah, we aren't counting on it, either.

Bonus: for those who scrolled down this far, a quick compilation of labels. As well as, of course, a teaser for what's yet to come.

[...the most complimentary thing that I can say about Mal, I think, is that Hobbes would get along well with xir. Terrible lab safety protocols. AWFUL cross-contamination protocols. Just looking at this bug's methodology is giving me hives. Venus give me strength. I suspect that any brew that I attempt to use will suffer from enough unknown, uncontrollable outside variables that none of the data I get will be even remotely applicable to any other situation. "Edge case" is generous - I struggle to call this sort of tampering anything less than an utter abomination of science.]

[I will be using one of the more heavily conceptual brews for this. The REMW-19 formula is reasonably stable enough that the weave shouldn't just collapse in on itself, but it has been remarkably poor at producing organisms capable of surviving on their own once the transformation has set enough that they don't have enough former anatomy to "fall back" on - I suspect, currently, that the survival of targets afflicted with the effect I am attempting to recreate relies the support on some sort of internal magic system, and if so, the sheer amount of lingering cross-contamination likely seeped into every ounce of aer chitin might actually boost survivability. I have no positive expectations for this, however.]

In spending ingredients on this, I hope to assemble an encyclopedic list of all of the ways that a charm's effects can go stupidly, horribly wrong. Venus willing, it will not double as a list of ways that my lab can be destroyed, or a list of ways that tampering with Charmcraft can go wrong. I have had enough recent trouble with repairing the lab's seals after the Vessel experiments - I have no particular desire to replace anything else now.]

[ashintheairlikesnow]

🧑‍⚕️ for Chris! Cookie treat:

🍪

CW: BBU, sickfic, ableism from Luke Petrus, general Luke Petrus warning, minor whump (OC is 17), brief implied noncon references

-

"What the heck did you do now, Petrus?" The doctor - barely out of med school, still young and learning the twists and turns of the Facility's labyrinth of hallways - sighs. He's been here barely a year, and already learned that Luke Petrus has a reputation for quick turnarounds because he runs his trainees into the ground. Metaphorically speaking.

His trainees aren't generally allowed to actually run much of anywhere at all. Or get out of bed.

Petrus rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. "Nothing. He was being a little shit this morning, breaking all his rules. I checked and his forehead was hot, so I brought him in here."

"Well... at least you didn't OD him again."

"That was one time, and he should have been fine, it's not my fault his body metabolizes the drugs wrong-"

"Maybe don't use our freaking supplies without speaking to a doctor first to make sure next time?" Dr. Ross glances into the exam through through the window cut into the door.

The trainee lays on his back on the exam table, staring listlessly up towards the flickering florescent lights overhead. His hands are moving, constantly crushing the crinkling paper beneath him or touching himself at the throat, the collarbone, the stomach. He's humming, audible through the door. A toneless, tuneless ah ah ah ah through barely open lips.

"Okay, well. I'll take a look. Any specific complaints other than the fever?"

"Clammy as fuck, coughing, sneezing... all that shit. Complained about his food, earlier, and I know he knows better than that." Petrus narrows his eyes, and Dr. Ross tries not to feel a shiver down his own spine. "He better be burning hot enough to hallucinate or he is going to fucking regret talking shit to me about the food."

Dr. Ross pauses. "The food is pretty legendarily... um, crap, though," He points out. The look Petrus gives him is so derisive he can all but feel it eat into him like acid. "I'll take a look. Probably he'll need an overnight in the clinic."

"I only have a few weeks left to finish him up. So you get him able to take training tomorrow night, got it?"

"I can't promise-"

"This one is going to a personal friend of Karen Renford's," Petrus says in a low voice. "A personal. friend. Got it?"

Dr. Ross swallows, trying not to look unnerved. "Got it."

"Good. Message me once he's good to go back, I'm going to head home for a few hours. If he's faking this..."

"Handler Petrus. How exactly would he fake a fever?" Dr. Ross looks into the exam room again. The trainee is still humming, watching his own fingers as he moves them between himself and the light. His skin is pale, a little grayish. His freckles stand out like paint splatters all over his body.

"Wouldn't put it past him. Trainees figure out all kinds of shit. Get him better and get him to stop doing that... Shit with his hands, making those noises. Punish him if he keeps it up, it's part of his training plan."

"Hm," Dr. Ross says, noncommittal. "I'll send his test results over in a bit. Enjoy your time at home."

He steps inside just to end the conversation, walking idly over to a countertop, where he opens a cupboard above and pulls out a small canister of lollipops. "Hello, 223499."

The boy's voice cuts off like a radio. After a pause, he starts mumbling, too low for Dr. Ross to hear.

"... right. Well. Your handler says you're feeling under the weather. Mind if I take a look?"

The trainee turns his head then. He looks somewhere off to one side of the doctor, blinking a little dazedly. "... take a look?"

His voice is slow, sluggish, but each word is so carefully placed.

"Yes."

The trainee looks away again. Dr. Ross sighs and goes with it, checking his temperature. 101.7, not great, not the worst fever. Hopefully this won't be another flu like the last one. Pneumonia nearly killed three trainees that time. He checked ears, eyes - pupils reactive, ears clear - and then touched at the lymph nodes beneath his jaw. A little swollen.

"Okay. Next up, we need to take a quick look down your throat."

Another slow blink. The trainee seemed to suddenly tense up. "You... want my throat?"

"Uh, well-" Dr. Ross turns away to pick up a tongue depressor and the swab for the test. "Yes, we need to test you."

The paper on the exam table crinkles again. The boy hums, almost wistfully, and then goes silent.

When he turns around, Dr. Ross discovers the boy on his knees in a seamless Position Two, mouth wide open.

His green eyes are empty, somewhere far away.

Dr. Ross's face burns at the sight. His stomach turns sharply, and he has to clear his throat to try and cover the way bile rises. "Uh, n-no thank you-... I just need... you need to be tested for strep throat, Trainee, not that kind of-... back up on the table, please-"

The boy looks confused, in a faded sort of way, but follows orders. He manages to clamber back up, sitting this time, listing a little to one side, then the other. But he opens his mouth again, and Dr. Ross hurries through the test as fast as he can, trying not to think about how most people gag during the strep test, but the Romantics never do.

"Good, made it. Perfect. Now, does your throat hurt a lot today?"

"Yes, sir." The boy's voice is a little raspy, now that he's talking. "A... lot. Earlier, i... cried when my... handler-"

"Don't need to hear the end of that sentence!" Dr. Ross forces false charm and ease into his voice, plucking one of the lollipops at random from the jar. "Here, let me give you this. It tastes a little weird, but it'll numb your throat and keep you from coughing." He unwraps it and holds it out. The trainee blinks at him. He blinks back.

Then he realizes. "... oh. Do you have to be... do I have to..." He leans forward. The trainee opens his mouth obediently for Dr. Ross to place the lollipop inside. Only then does his mouth close.

"'ank 'oo, ir," The trainee says around a mouthful of fake sweetener and the numbing agent already going to work. His eyes are so sweet and so vivid, and he half-smiles around the treat.

"You're welcome, 223499. I'm going to go and do your strep test. I'll be back. You just relax, okay? You can sleep in a clinic bed and get a good night's sleep."

The boy's eyebrows furrow. "Is... is it night?"

"Oh right. We're not supposed to let you know, are we? Well... I don't think it can hurt... yeah, I'm on nights right now, 11 to 9. It's about one in the morning."

"Oh." The trainee lays slowly back down, on his side, closing his eyes as he works at the sucker. "... what, what does night... look, um, look like?"

Dr. Ross swallows.

He's a fucking coward, but he doesn't answer. He just leaves, and he doesn't let himself stop and look back.

He doesn't let himself think about a boy who can't remember the sky.

God, he only has a few weeks left on this residency and he just isn't sure he can make it.

[arvensimp]

YFSK Preview, pt. 4.1

I know i've been super duper quiet, but I promise there's a good reason. Please forgive me and accept this teaser for part 4.

“Hey! I dunno if you’ve been keeping track on your end, but Kiki is gonna be graduating from Blueberry, and I know it would mean the absolute world to him if you were able to attend the ceremony.” Carmine called, nearly out of the blue one day to inform you. Her brother had apparently been a part of a trial class that not only earned a high school diploma but also continued on for a few more years as part of a pilot Bachelor’s degree program in pokemon battling. From what you understood, it was basically like a feeder system to train new gym leaders and Elite Four hopefuls.

You look down at your ballooning tummy,

"Congratulations to him! When is it exactly though…?"

You wince and resist the urge to suck your teeth when Carmine gives you the date.

"Ahhh... I'm so sorry, I've got something at that time."

"For real? You can't just ask for time away from your league for even a weekend? This would REALLY mean the world to Kiki..."

"I'm sorry, but…I won't actually be allowed to fly by that point."

"Allowed? What kinda terrorism have you gotten into?"

You snort a laugh. "Pssh, nah. It's... It's medical actually. Here. Lemme, uh..." Without hanging up, you send over the most recent ultrasound photos. Your baby still kinda looks like a Munna in there, but she should get the point. Or, at least you assume she does when you hear the sound of crashing and fumbling on her end.

"You're having a BABY?????"

"Uh...haha, yeah. The due date is, like, a week after Kieran's graduation, so... I, y'know, can't fly. I'm really sorry. I'll be sure to send a gift though!"

"A BABY?"

"Yup. I can hardly believe it myself, most days."

"I didn't even know you were seeing anyone! Who is this guy? Why didn't you let your incredible Unovan friends suss him out for you?"

Another wince. "...About that. Yeah... He's not...um. In the picture."

"What? How? Why? Whomst would even dare? Do I need to kick some ass?"

"It's...." You still haven’t gotten used to talking about the subject. "It's a lot. Don't. ...Don't worry! Really! I have tons of support! It's fine. For real."

Carmine absolutely isn't buying it. "Mm. Fine. I guess I get why you can't make it to the graduation. Could we come visit afterwards though? Like I get you probably wouldn't want us there immediately after he graduates. But...maybe like a few months later? Give the thing a chance to develop an immune system?"

"I can't promise I'll be a great host, but... Well, it would be nice."

"Don't worry yourself none! I've changed diapers and stuff before if you end up needing a nap while we're around!"

-

So around the time Basil is 3 months old, the Kitakami pair head to Paldea.

Of course, Basil is having a rough time of it, screaming his little lungs out as they're knocking on the door, so you can only hope that you don’t look as frazzled as you feel when you welcome them in.

"Hey! Hello! Please, come in, come in. Make yourselves at home.” You give the pair a hug at the same time, barely able to register them beyond the fog of ‘TAKE CARE OF BASIL, TAKE CARE OF CRYING PROGENY, TAKE CARE OF BABY’ that alarms through your brain. “I'm really sorry, but I just need to feed Basil real fast. That should hopefully get him sleeping and happy again."

You usher them in and invite them to sit on the sofa, the TV is theirs, and you hide away in the bedroom to nurse. A few minutes later, Carmine gently knocks on the door and asks if she can be of any help. You joke through the wood that the dishes need doing when she presses past the feeble ‘it’s fine!’ that you offer.

"Kiki! Take care of the dishes, yeah?"

"On it!" You hear, softer.

"Okay, what else?" She continues.

"No! Just. Just relax, please."

"Nah, I'm gonna tidy up. Kay? You just keep feeding the chonklet there, and we can catch up when you're done."

You come back out to the room, and it's not Clean, but it's definitely more put together. You also hear the hum of the dishwasher from the kitchen.

"You guys...." You start tearing up, and both siblings immediately swoop in to hold you. Carmine strokes your hair, shushing you. Now that you’ve got your child content, you have a moment to comprehend your guests.

Kieran is. Bigger.

"I... I promise I'm not this pathetic! I can handle this. Plus, I... I have folks here who can help... It's just hard..." You snivel, sounding way more pathetic than you mean to sound.

"It's okay that it's hard..." Kieran finally pipes up and his voice is definitely deeper since you last heard him. Not a bass or something, but there's been a change there. "This is more or less the hardest thing in the world, right? And we all know you're the strongest person there is, so...ya know. It's okay. You...you can do this. And you can feel overwhelmed."

-

They end up staying for about a week or so, and on the night before they're due to fly back, Kieran pulls you aside while Carmine is grabbing takeaway for dinner. He's fidgeting with his hair a bit, tapping his foot, but he's doing his best to meet your eye.

"I'm staying." He declares.

"What? Like you're gonna look for a job here?"

"Yeah! I know I'm not as strong as you, but I'm certain I could get a job in your league or...or maybe even at your alma mater, maybe. I... I'd need to do a teaching cert in Paldea for that, probably, but..."

"Wow! So you liked it that much here? That's great, Kieran. I can help you learn the language if you want. I can also see if Nemona has any real estate connections. We'll try to find you a place when you're ready to get back, and hopefully by then you'll have a job, and you can get started wi--"

"No! I mean... I'm. I'm not going back to Kitakami." One of his hands grabs yours and the other rests gently on Basil, sleeping soundly in your arms. "He needs...a...a father figure, y'know? I..." Kieran swallows thickly. "I can do that. I'm... I'm a man now."

"Kieran..." You shift slightly, freeing a hand from your bundle while keeping him balanced in your arms. You trace a palm along the older boy--no, man's cheek, your callouses having grown softer in recent months. You can feel where he's begun to grow consistent stubble. Wow... He really did grow up.

"I... I'm not going to keep you from reaching your fullest potential out there. You're welcome, more than welcome, to come visit any time, but... You're not thinking clearly about this. About what you think you're signing up for."

"I AM though!" He raises his voice, showing some hints of the anger he holds onto. "I'm READY for this! God, why can't anyone TRUST me?!"

All the yelling wakes up Basil, who cries, startled. Kieran quickly scoops him up and out of your arms, attempting to soothe the baby.

"Aw, geez... I'm sorry, little guy... I didn't mean to make you upset... Shh, shh... It'll be okay..."

The momentary flare of anger you felt at having your son torn from your grip is placated as you watch Kieran hold him so tenderly. Your heart melts... You lose all affection you may have secretly held onto in your heart for Arven, that loser.

Kieran is here. Kieran is capable. Kieran... Kieran can do this.

"Okay..." You softly tell him once Basil has calmed, the single word hanging in the quiet between you for a moment.

"...Okay?" He parrots.

"You... You can stay. You... You'll be his father."

Then y'all DO IT.

THE END

april fools :)

[ell-arts]

Just some talking

Not quite a life update, but not quite an activity post either lol, just a plain post about some general things I guess?

I've slowed down quite a bit on content and activity on here. Ever since graduating and moving back in with my parents, I've been hit with art-lethargy and burnout fully settled in, and so I just kinda allowed myself to be stagnant for a while, recovering from the harrowing year that was 2023. It's been helpful. Of course, I couldn't rest for too long because I had to finalise my portfolio/CV and prepare for the working world. Good news is that starting today I'm working on a concept art/storyboard internship for an animation company for two weeks. I don't know if I'll stick with them after the internship ends, but I do have my eye on some other job offerings. We'll see.

I also just realised that 13 Jan was the 1-year anniversary of me returning to being active on Tumblr again. Since then, I believe I've made more content for PMATGA than ever before, and its all thanks to your support! Hoping for another year of PMATGA fanworks.

That being said, I want to get to the main point of this post. In the next few days (weeks?) I won't be talkative or very active for a bit.

If I may be honest, there's been a heck of a thing going on with my family and in my personal life right now. It's sucking at all of my energy and driving me to the point of having an anxious/depressive episode. Outside of work, I really don't have the motivation or will to work on any content at this point in time.

I've been trying to at least do small bits of writing, hoping to get a few fun drabbles out. But they're uninspired and being done haphazardly, because of emotional lethargy and feeling drained regarding irl drama. I am still barely recovering from last year's burnout from uni. So I'm not going to force it. My drive will come back in time, I just need time to readjust to a new work schedule and deal with personal issues first.

I know that Call Me Cyli is much anticipated. I know that The Veil has now gone precisely a full year without an update, equally as anticipated, if not more. I know how much you guys love these stories.

I am not giving up on them. I just need some time.

Hopefully, after I've landed a permanent job somewhere, I'll be able to have a bit more stability in my time and schedule.

Thank you all so much for being so kind and supportive during my first year back on Tumblr 💙 I'll see you when I see you :)

[b-blushes]

ough okay reminded by last post that i wanted to talk about something here because i'm thinking it might be less scary to move through with others!

it's a confusing thing for me suddenly getting a diagnosis explained after a long period of time living with it, um, let's say not investigated at the root by drs and just being framed as 'something that can happen'. Now i have a mechanism for something disabling that i've been living with for a long time, and it happens to be something that can be improved! I was not expecting this to happen in a concrete way! It was a condition that had previously been approached by drs as something nebulous, and as such treatment and management felt equally somewhat 'throwing spaghetti at the wall' type things. I was (and still am, for now, although hopefully this will change?) living with disabling symptoms with the outlook that that could be my forever, and there was no real way of knowing for sure what to do, although there were some scattergun type things I could try. Seeing a new dr, i now have an explicit cause and effect, and also an understanding of my condition, and thus in this case a specific path forward. this is good news. it's also scary!!! facing a new prognosis, even though it's positive, means that i'm unfamiliar to myself again. i will have changing abilities, and consequently beliefs and perceptions about myself, as my body changes. even though (i hope) this will be in a positive direction, it's still frightening to face! gradually through time i'll have to go through the process of reassessing the way that i move through any action as i build up strength and am able to do things in 'new' or unfamiliar ways. the truths that i think about myself, like what i can and can't do, what i am and am not, will evolve. it's a daunting feeling to me! the 'rules' are changing and that's how at least i navigate life, making decisions and weighing things up as a chronically ill and disabled person. Of course any time you're living, you'll change and grow and your perceptions and beliefs about yourself will change gradually. This just seems like a very spotlit scenario and one which has very wide-reaching implications. Something else makes it scary is that expressing these feelings often seems to be read as 'not wanting to get better', which also can sometimes be extrapolated on as 'wanting to be ill' and as such exaggerating, attention seeking, etc. This is not true! But it's hard to explain the nuance of how good news can be scary. Another scary part of it is that, living a very small life for also a very long time, i find it hard to exercise imagination about a bigger life. For years now i've had limited ability to leave the house due to the symptoms of my conditions, and i have various chronic conditions that impact this. Improving one of those might hopefully mean that i can leave the house more than just once a week for a few hours. That's also scary to think about! it's hard to explain! it's hard to imagine what I might want to do without it being undercut with fears, whether that is fears about whether i could do the thing that i'm imagining and the implications of 'failure', whether i might end up feeling worse afterwards and how long that impact would last, whether people's perception of me will be changed, and how these changes in perception will impact the care and support that i get. Unfortunately other people's views of your abilities can be quite important when you're ill/chronically ill/disabled, as perceptions about what you can and can't do are, like, intrinsic in choices made about you receiving or being eligible for certain things. which might be, uh, necessary for you living, and/or living well. all of this to say, it's been quite frightening being faced with the concept that the symptoms and life implications of one of my chronic conditions might be changing for the better! And the main actual question after all of that is, if you are or have been or might be in a similar position, what sort of things have you imagined for yourself? (: I figured it might be a bit less scary to think about the future with other people! Three things I thought of are

being able to go for more walks (there's a particular one that isn't very long that we've called 'going around the block' and i was just thinking the other day that i missed doing this! maybe it's something i'd be able to do in the not so distant future?)

there's a museum in a nearby town that i'd love to look around, but doesn't have accessible parking, so the walking from the carpark to the museum plus walking around in there means i haven't done it. maybe if i can increase my stamina, i could visit the museum and actually be able to look around?

if i could leave the house more than once a week, i might be able to catch an exhibition i might want to visit at a local art gallery! there was one running from june through october that i really wanted to see, but didn't have a free week so i missed it. perhaps i'd be able to fit in a visit when something comes up again in the future!