#i actually found out bears “loaf” like cats do

[thatonechocogirl]

brainrot time guys

[offbranddrpepsi]

How do you think Sova, Omen, Yoru, and Cypher would react to the their S/O asking for them to lay on top of them full weight, context is that I have a body pillow and weighted blanket (in the winter) that I lay on top of me for comfort lmao - Blue

Remember to get some rest as well <3

Fun fact: its called deep pressure and its great for the neuro spicy. How do i know this? My wife and cats do it, its great. Anyways, ontop the HCS/reacts

Sova is mildly confused at first but after some coaxing does it. Mind you Sova is SUPRISINGLY heavy due to muscle mass so he was mildly concerned about hurting you or you suffocating. Once it's explained its comforting to you he is down to do it really when ever but much more prefers just bear hugging you as that has a much smaller risk of squish

Now on the other end of the scale is Omen who is actually quite light with the only thing that gives him weight being the outfit he wears. Of course this doesn't mean he can't manipulate the weight others feel/ increase his mass some what. When you asked for him to lay on you for comfort reasons he did ask further how exactly that was supposed to help before complying. He would adjust his apparent weight until you two found a good amount of pressure that really hit the cozy spots, man is like the IDEAL weighted blanket.

The first time Yoru just out right FLOPS on top of you to be an ass before picking on you. Once you explain its for comfort reasons he acts dismissive like he normally does but reluctantly agrees. Later admits he really enjoys it as it feels really cozy and intimate, is always down to be a living weight blanket but gets super flustered when you suggest he enjoys it.

Cypher agrees without hesitation, just tosses off his hat and any sharp/pokey objects and loafs on top of you. It isn't super convenient for him so he does actually invest in getting you a weighted blanket or plush that weighs about as much as he does so he feels less bad refusing you most of the time. He is very vocal that he does enjoy it, he enjoys any quality time, but he is also very busy and has a tiny issue sitting still doing nothing for too long

[generalskales]

Heyo i have a bunch of headcanons:

🔥 Kai learned how to style Nya's hair so she wouldn't feel left out whenever a new hair trend hit the village

💧 Nya refuses to sleep unless someone or something is next to her, no one minds this because hey free cuddle buddy

💧⚡ Jay specifically doesn't mind but also understands the struggle of being used to another body/a plushie being there, hence why he still has Mr. Cuddlywomp

⚡ Jay tends to chew on pencils while absentmindedly stimming, he has since bought a chewy necklace to save his poor erasers

❄ Zane finds the recaptcha memes the citizens make very funny. It's not a problem for a Nindroid to deal with recaptcha when you know how they work taps forehead

🌏 Cole will send his dad a message of some kind each day and if he's in the area and not actively patrolling or busy he'll swing by for something to eat or to see what Lou is up to

🐻 Kataru is autistic and flaps his hands to stim, his special interests include bears and fishing

🐻 Kataru also give some of the best hugs. He can make you feel very protected and warm with them.

🐺 Akita will howl at the moon if she's alone or with a trusted friend.

🐺 Akita thinks Lloyd is more like a brother or close friend than a romantic interest

🐉 Lloyd likes to surprise children at the hospital with carefully selected gifts for each of them. He gets really upset if he finds out someone died but is usually informed by the parents that he made their last moments very special.

🐉 Lloyd secretly enjoys cooking with Cole simply because regardless of outcome it's fun to get messy. Zane tends to be clean and organized but Cole will have everything be an organized mess he has a system and Lloyd knows it by heart.

🔥 Kai would never admit it to her face but Skylor is the one person that isn't family he would outright die for. The ninja he would obviously protect with his life, but he isnt losing Skylor as long as he's still standing

❄⚡🌏 Zane, Jay, and Cole used to share a bed before Kai joined the team

🌌 Literally none of them are cishet thats just how it be

🌪 Morro enjoys drinking tea but only Wu makes it to his tastes (he won't ever say this but its very obvious)

🌪 Morro would gladly throw down with Chen or Harumi if only to get a chance to fight someone worth fighting again

🔥 Kai likes it when his hair is played with, he finds it calming

🐉 Lloyd has pulled the "my grandfather is God" card on rude people before and will do it often. Said grandfather finds this a nice change of pace

🐉 This does not change that Lloyd calls him out for his treatment of his children he is Not Having It™

💧 Nya is the third tallest after Zane and Cole, standing at 5'11"

🔥 Kai is 5'07"

⚡ Jay is the kid who took their pen apart in school and put it back together

⚡ Jay freaks out if denied food for any reason

💧❄⚡👑 Nya, Zane, Jay, and Pixal all get together once a month to build Rube Goldberg Machines and its wonderfully chaotic

👑 Pixal signs each of her texts with kaomoji because she thinks it's adorable, specifically this one:

~ヾ(・ω・)

🌌 If you meet any of them on the street you have a 75/25 chance of either mistaking them for stupid teenagers/young adults or realizing that they are actually that young

❄ Zane may have the braincell but he will voluntarily go along with whatever scheme the others are planning

👑❄ Pixal will hum on the off chance that Zane is feeling unwell, he said it made him feel safe because she only hummed when they weren't in any sort of danger

👑 Pixal likes watching phineas and ferb, she enjoys seeing whatever the boys or doof come up with each episode

❄🐉 Lloyd is usually found around Zane if he's having a bad day. The Nindroid can tell when his younger teammate is feeling plain awful and will spend the day trying to improve Lloyd's mood. Lloyd in return helps Zane with cooking and cleaning.

🔥 Kai is usually the person to ask to pull double patrols, he has the shortest patrol route on a normal day and can use the excuse to drag Skylor away.

🍜 Skylor has been practicing combining powers she copied so she doesn't tire out as easily. Her record is three at once and she's working on four

🔥🍜 Kai has cooked for Skylor before and never thought of it as anything special or good compared to what she makes. Skylor however loves it and thoroughly enjoys the occasion

🔥💧 Nya would try to bring home stray cats or dogs she found and Kai turned away all of them after a day because of the extra mouth to feed. She eventually got her wish when Kai showed up one day after patrols with a tiny little shrimp of a kitten in his arms and she immediately claimed ownership over it. It's name was Socks because it looked like it had socks on

⚡ Jay cries seeing Socks because Socks is so tiny its illegal

🐉 Lloyd has a youtube channel based around his father's teachings and self defense tips. He's usually joined by either another ninja or an ally

🏅 Dareth is probably one of the few relatively sane adults the ninja have and he won't allow them to miss any opportunity to kick back and relax

🏅 Dareth (and Ronin on a good day) will not hesitate to give some adult life wisdom or a steady shoulder to lean on should any of them need it.

💎 Ronin will throw down if anyone disses his nieces and nephews those are his kids too he doesn't care

🐺🐻 Akita and Kataru have a braincell shared between them

💎🐉 Lloyd will on very very rare occasions slip back into habits from Darkley's and join Ronin in some theivery from the bourgeoisie

🏅🍜 On an off day Skylor may call up Dareth offering a free meal. He always leaves big tips regardless and a note saying thank you, it's her mood booster.

🌪💎 Morro would fight Ronin in hand to hand combat if he could. Ronin would rather the ghost go pester someone else rather than him for the 40th time

🌌 Everyone agrees that Socks is Babey™ and will be protected at all costs

🐺 Akita will sometimes just spend a day lounging in wolf form. No reason she just wants to loaf

🐻 Kataru gets urges to hibernate and is a pain to wake up during winter seasons. He also could beat Cole and Lloyd together in the amount of food he eats during the season

👑🔥 Kai and Pixal will spend their after patrol hours doing science experiments. The more fun ones are the more messy ones, so they tend to get home first so they have clean up time before the others get home

🔥 Kai has the shortest patrol route after an incident on a longer route that made him refuse to take anything longer than what he has outside of a double shift

[vancilocs]

No prompts nor my own question, can we get mae and joe and yakov and malor?

slow night

What was their first impression of each other?

Annoying, what is her deal, she's kinda cute but she needs to stop acting up he doesn't need this drama in his life

Yakov didn't really pay much mind, he had some hunting to do, but Malor seemed polite and capable. Malor also stayed professional, yes he thought Yakov was cute but there were more pressing matters

What is their ship name?

Big buff and cheeto puff

Describe their relationship dynamic.

An extremely solid and long-term thing with rings and kids and trust and feelings and all that good stuff

A couple of gentle boys where one supports the other a bit more and in return gets love and fresh bread

What was their relationship like before they got together?

They were plenty annoyed by each other but also kinda liked each other, it was complex

Very professional, both were warriors going after some kind of beast

How would they describe each other?

Mae is a pain in Joe's ass (wink). He'll only tell her alone that she's the love of his life though

Yakov is Malor's sweet grizzly bear honey bun. Malor is Yakov's caring and endessly patient and loving porcupine

What do they love about each other?

Trustworthiness, openness, how much they understand each other and show their love in their own way, how good of a parent the other is

Gentle manners and loving heart, patience and care, understanding, physical features

What do they have in common?

Headstrong, stubborn, dedicated, understanding, sporty

Both enjoy relaxing and like chickens, both are calm and rational, caring and understanding

What are some differences between them?

Joe struggles greatly with feelings and doesn't like to admit when something's wrong with him, in general Mae will let the cat out of the bag sooner than he will

Malor is much more outgoing and active, Yakov enjoys baking a lot more and while Malor likes chickens, Yakov is more emotionally attached to them

What made them realize they were in love?

When Joe felt like he could actually talk about his feelings without being cringe or ridiculed for them

Malor came by again to visit and Yakov actually got out of bed just for him so it must be love. Happened later for Malor when they shared a loaf of fresh bread

What are their love languages?

Physical touch especially from Joe, quality time, acts of service

Quality time, acts of service, physical touch

Do they get married? Who proposes and how?

Joe proposed very romantically, planned it properly and everything

Agreed to spend their golden years together, had a big feast and Malor moved in properly

What would happen if they never met?

Joe would settle down elsewhere probably, he always wanted a family so that's the goal, find a spouse and a house and raise a few kids

Yakov would be sad and lonely, he doesn't get out enough to meet new people. Malor would likely eventually settle down, so far nobody has caught his fancy bc he's so picky

Are there any love rivals?

Nah, more like Mirad is just why the fuck would you want to date Joe he's dreadful

The leader of the warriors in Malor's clan is not fond of humans but basically everyone is like dude wtf abt it so it's not a big thing

Describe your favorite moment of that ship!

Idk man I just love them

What do other characters think about this relationship?

Joe's parents and sisters are very happy, Ivy is glad her friend found someone, Mirad is sassy abt it but he's secretly glad too. Have fun. Yumi is sceptical

Mahran's clan is so glad. After Geor died they thought Yakov would never be happy again so it's so nice to see him find love elsewhere. Malor's family and friends are also happy because they had thought nobody was good enough for him

What does a typical date look like for them?

Go out for dinner, maybe see a movie, maybe get a few drinks and then get home. Toss the kids to a sleepover or ask Sheila or Alice (or grandparents) to babysit, enjoy yourself.

Stay home, cook a good dinner, feed the chickens, make sure the fireplace's roaring and enjoy each others' company

What’s a really significant moment in their relationship?

I think Joe opening up about his identity crisis and daring to cry about it in front of Mae

Yakov asking if Malor would stay for the first time because opening up for possible romance seemed unfathomable to him at the time

[sleekervae]

The Neighbour [0.2]

Masterlist

Eva clung especially tightly to Pluto as she followed Remington back to the front gate, her cheeks burning red hot with humiliation. It didn't help either that this kid happened to be wickedly handsome and sans shirt all the while.

Remington wasn't so bothered by the incident, worse case scenario he could convince the guys to order a pizza like he was craving. Nonetheless, he didn't blame Eva; he tried to put that across by keeping the friendly smile on his face and putting her at ease.

"You know, it's not a big deal -- with the food and everything," he assured her, "We'll just order a pizza or something,"

Eva shrugged, "I know. It's just -- you know, I guess this isn't how I expected everything was going to go," she said, "Moving is tough enough with everything going on, and now it seems I got to get a play cage for this little monster,"

Remington patted the top of Pluto's head, "He's not so bad, just a little hungry. Cute little guy, aren't ya?" The pale tabby closed his eyes and rubbed his scruffy head against his palm.

Eva smiled a little, "He likes you. You should be honored, he doesn't warm up to strangers so easily,"

"Well of course he likes me. We have the same hair colour," Remington grinned, subconsciously running a hand through his black and blonde hair.

"You could be twins," Eva chuckled sardonically.

Remington opened the gate for her, "So... do you like the neighbourhood?" he asked.

"It's nice so far," Eva nodded, "I'm still unpacking all my boxes and shit so I haven't really had the opportunity to explore. And given the circumstances and... I -- I forgot my face mask too, fuck,"

Remington shrugged, swallowing the ball of nerves creeping up his throat, "You look pretty healthy to me," he said.

Eva smiled politely, hoping she could attribute the flush in her cheeks to the heat. There was something about him, he was familiar to her. She didn't come right out and say it, perhaps he just had one of those faces one sees and recognizes from somewhere else.

"Well, I should get going. And tell those guys I'm sorry again," she said, walking backwards to the sidewalk.

Remington simply shook his head, "Honestly, don't even give a second thought. Welcome to the neighbourhood, Eva"

"Thank you, Remington,"

There was something about the way his name rolled off of her tongue that sounded so sweet to him. He continued to stand at the gate and watched the pretty young girl cross the street and back into the apartment courtyard. Eva turned and took one last fleeting glance, a zing of electricity zipping down her spine when she saw Remington was still standing there.

Slamming the door to her apartment, she placed Pluto back on the floor, washed her hands thoroughly, and went back to her kitchen to continue with her baking exploits. She tied an apron around her waist, pulled out her ingredients and tried to find a good recipe on her phone. She also made sure to close the window.

She was unbothered when Pluto jumped onto the counter and took a seat, staring at his owner curiously. Eva stared at him just as intently, having half the mind to shoo him off the countertop. He seemed to almost be smiling at her.

"And what are you looking at, sausage thief?"

Some days passed; days filled with doing absolutely nothing. If everything was normal, Palaye Royale would have been smack in the middle of their European tour. Instead, Remington was sitting in his room, bored out of his mind as he continued to press the buttons on his xbox controller. He had played this game so many times, it was too easy. The challenge was gone.

Today was Friday, another Friday that was filled with perpetual boredom and misery. Riding around on his scooter wasn't fun, video games weren't fun, even trying to annoy Emerson wasn't as fun. There was little drive for him to do the bare minimum; it was just an achievement alone that he forced himself to shower this morning.

Lying back on his bed, he stared up at the empty ceiling, closing his eyes and trying to go back to sleep. Maybe the time would go faster if he slept more, like a hibernating bear? However, the notion of sleep was swiftly yanked away when he heard the doorbell ring.

He groaned audibly and turned over, his dark brown eyes still shut tight, "Emerson! Someone's at the door!" he called. There was no response, not even the shuffling echo of feet. Was Emerson even home? Maybe he'd ordered something off Amazon again and conveniently forgot to tell Remington while he was out.

If it was a package and he'd missed it, he didn't want to hear Emerson going off about having to drag himself down to the post office to sign for it -- in a pandemic no less. A month in and this pandemic was already getting to be old news.

Nevertheless, Remington pulled himself out of bed and jogged downstairs, hoping the Amazon guy hadn't left yet. He didn't take into account that he was only in his indigo dotted shorts and nothing else, throwing open the door without a care. However, he was surprised to see a plastic bag at his feet, at the gate was Eva.

Eva had just pulled back the latch to the gate when she heard the door open, and she was no doubt taken aback to see Remington standing there... again without a shirt. He looked weary and tired, the complete opposite to Eva's glowing face and yellow summer dress.

"You're not the Amazon guy," Remington spoke candidly.

Eva cocked her head, "Uh, no. Afraid not," she shrugged, "You expecting a package?"

"No," Reming shook his head, "I mean, my brother might be, but he's not home and I have no... um, nevermind. What brings you over here?" he leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms, trying to collect himself a bit more.

Eva pointed to the bag at his feet, "I made some bread. The recipe made three loaves and I don't need that many carbs," she chuckled awkwardly, "I thought maybe you guys might like one?"

"Oh," Remington picked up the bag and pulled back the plastic, finding a round, crisp loaf of bread inside, probably a bit bigger than Mishka, "That's very nice of you,"

"I just felt bad about the other day --"

"I told you, it's no big deal,"

"I know," Eva nodded, scratching at the skin behind her ear, "I ... jeez. Just being neighbourly, I guess?"

"I'm the one who should be fucking neighbourly," Remington grinned, "You want to come in for a drink or something? ... Or maybe we should sit on the lawn instead? That's social distancing, right?"

Eva smiled sheepishly but shook her head, "I actually have to stop by my storage unit and pick up the rest of my things. I'm just looking for a Waive,"

"You don't have a car?" he asked.

"Well, it was either the apartment or the car, and I figure I can survive off public transit for the next little while," she replied.

It was then a truly incredible idea entered Remington's head, "... I can drive you over, if you want," he said.

Eva smiled graciously, "Oh no, that's okay. There's one up four blocks from here, and I don't want to be a bother," she replied.

"It's no bother at all," Remington grinned, "As long as I'm back in time for my set schedule of nothing, followed by nothing, and then more nothing," hey, it was at least a reason for him to get out of the house.

Eva crossed her left leg behind her right, clearly a little unsure. It wasn't advisable to get into a car with a stranger when circumstances were normal, and now couldn't have been an exception.

"I don't know, Remington,"

He could see the apprehension spread over her delicate face, and he didn't blame her for being on the edge. He wasn't even sure if she should've even been in his backyard the other day. Then again, he knew he was being safe, and as far as he saw Eva never went anywhere, or had anybody over.

"I get it if you're uncomfortable," he told her, "But I don't go anywhere. And the only people I ever really see are the people you met the other day. That's it. I just... I wanna' do everything right so we can go back to normal as soon as we can. And you seem like a nice girl and I would hate to know you're having to suck up quarantine by yourself,"

Eva took a minute to think it over. She glanced down the street, maybe thinking she could catch sight of the shared car her map was telling her was within a four-block radius. Then again, she wasn't all that comfortable having to use a car-sharing service since the pandemic started, but she couldn't take her stuff on the bus and she couldn't afford Uber rates. Besides, Remington was only one guy...

"... If you don't mind," she said finally, "Maybe we can just leave the windows down and have our masks on?

Remington tried to hold back the big grin that wanted to explode over his lips, "It's seventy-five degrees out, you bet your ass I'm gonna' have the windows down," he said, "I'll just go throw on a shirt,"

"Do you have a habit of going without a shirt?" she asked.

Remington smirked, "Only on Wednesdays... and when beautiful women happen to be around,"

Eva rolled her eyes, but she was smiling nonetheless. She actually found him to be quite charming, "Well, it's not Wednesday," she took a brief look around, "And there are no pretty girls here,"

"Oh, come on, don't sell yourself short, Eva," he winked coyly as he rewrapped the bread in the plastic, "Just outta' curiosity, is this --?"

"Sourdough," Eva nodded shyly.

"What is up with this sourdough fad?" he asked.

"I don't know," she threw her arms out, "I just wanted to fit in and be cool, I guess,"

"You named your cat after an Edgar Allan Poe book, you're already cool,"

Eva waited patiently outside as Remington dashed into his room. However, he stopped short when he found a post-it note was stuck to his door. He must've blown past it when he went to answer downstairs. It was notably written in Emerson's chicken scratch and he read it to himself.

"Remington, I'm off with Shy to the beach. Text me if you want to cook or do take out, unless of course I come home before you open your door... and you won't find this note," he glowered at the dark blue ink, "Seriously?"

About an hour later, having collected the rest of her boxes from storage, Remington followed Eva up three flights of stairs to her little corner apartment. Eva had a bit of a rough time trying to put the key in the lock without dropping her box, but she was finally able to get the door open and push her way inside. Pluto was in his bed, none too bothered by his owner's presence. It was only when he smelled the unfamiliar scent of men's soap and hair product that he turned his head to Remington.

He was quick to leap up and come trotting over, nearly scaring Remington out of his skin when he started rubbing up against his leg, "What the --? Oh, hi Pluto," he grinned at the pale and black-striped tabby.

Eva huffed at her cat, setting down her box and going to scoop him up, "Pluto! Let him in before you start whoring," He gave a yrowl of protest before he was dropped back into his bed.

"Sorry about that," she said.

"It's no problem," Remington wasn't shy about having a few glances around her small studio space. It was cozy, yet not fully furnished as the walls were still bare and her shelves were empty. On the right hand side, two perpendicular walls separated the kitchen space from the bedroom (it was more like a bed cubby), and on the other side she had a small couch with a glass coffee table, and beside that a desk that prescribed the definition of 'messy'. Looking out through a sliding door, Eva had a small balcony with two chairs and small dining table -- where she had a perfect view of his house.

"Please forgive the mess, too. I'm shit at organizing," Eva said, having now pulled down her blue medical mask so it rested under her chin. Remington did the same.

"It's definitely a lot cleaner than my place," he said, still gripping tightly the cardboard box, "Where would you like this?"

Eva set down her box on the kitchen counter, took a glance at the writing at the side before directing him, "Just down by the bookcase, is fine," and she started pulling apart her own box.

Remington set down his box and opened it as well, astonished and impressed to see rows of vinyls lined up and packed tightly. She had music that ranged from Billie Holiday to Harry Styles; some sleeves more worn down than others. Unable to help himself, Remington had a flip through her music, you could always best judge somebody by what they threw on the turntable. Remington's smile grew when he found his own record, Boom Boom Room Side A.

"You have good taste," he said, turning and holding up the vinyl.

Eva turned from her box full of novels, a tinge of red spreading over her cheeks when she saw him crouched over her music and holding a record. But when she realized the worn down sleeve was for Palaye Royale, it suddenly clicked in her mind where she'd seen Remington from. A small warmth flooded through her gut.

"I knew you looked familiar," she blushed, "Your hair's different, that's why I didn't recognize you,"

"I take it this is your only record of ours?" he smirked.

Eva shrugged, "It was a birthday present. I liked a lot of what I heard, though," she ruffled a hand through her short hair, "There was one song I heard and I just fucking loved it. It went something like... oh my gosh, like um..." she started humming the chorus to something that sounded like Mr. Doctor Man.

The melody was instantly recognizable to Remington, but he let her carry on longer than necessary to watch her, the giggle she let out while she hummed simply delicious. He could never sing that song the same way again after hearing that.

"I think that's supposed to be Mr. Doctor Man," he chuckled once she had stopped giggling.

Eva pointed a finger at him, "That's it! I loved it because it sounded like The Killers!" Eva couldn't believe she just hummed that song to Remington fucking Leith. She wasn't sure why she had let Palaye Royale fall off her radar, having remembered how much fun she had jamming to that vinyl in her old place. And the voice on Remington was so sexy, she couldn't help but be so enthralled by those raspy high and low notes he would hit.

"That's probably one of the best comparisons I've had, yet," he told her, "They also happen to originate from Vegas,"

Her cheeks were still burning but she lifted her eyes slowly back to his and gave a tentative smile, "What is it with all you cool rock bands coming out of Las Vegas?"

"Like they say; Vegas is built on hopes, dreams, and crazy people," he gave her a wide, toothy grin just to make his point.

"Who said that?" Eva asked.

"I don't know, but it makes a fuck ton of a sense," Remington replied, "Would you like me to put these in the shelf?" he pointed to the bookcase.

Eva shook her head, "No, you don't have to do that. You didn't even have to help me haul all this shit upstairs," she said.

"And leave a lovely lady to break her back on her own? My own mother would be so ashamed of me," he scoffed back, waving his hand at her, "And besides, as your new friend I insist on helping you out,"

Eva cocked her head, "So, you and I went from acquaintances to friends all within an hour and some?"

"Well, if you had hummed my song earlier, we would've been friends before Pluto even stole the sausage," Remington grinned, then glancing at the tabby, "No hard feelings, Pluto," The cat simply stared back at him.

He glanced back at Eva, "... Why does he keep staring at me?" he whispered.

Eva smirked, "He's a very personable cat. Either that, or he wants your shoes,"

"So, if I leave my sneakers on the stairs of my house, he'll come over and actually make a meal out of them?" he asked.

"I've lost so many shoes to this cat, I swear I have to keep them locked up in my closet," she replied.

Remington glanced at the cat again, narrowing his eyes as though to mockingly challenge the feline, whispering menacingly "I got my eye on you, bitch,"

[naamahdarling]

What are the stories of how you got each of your cats? I know Fancy's, but would love to hear the rest!

Smooch and Etrigan were adopted after my best cat ever died. I waited a few months, then started looking on Petfinder, found Smooch’s listing with a really bad picture that didn’t even show his face, left it open all weekend, then called to see about meeting him.  They brought Etrigan along, too, since he had some scabs on his face and was missing some teeth, they think from being thrown from a car.  They knew I wanted a cat with a funny face.  They’d been fostered together so they were friends, despite a 6+ month age difference and a significant size difference.  In the beginning, when Etrigan was being too annoying, Smooch would literally lay on top of him until he fell asleep.  I came out of my room several times to find Smooch loafed on the hallway floor, with little spidery black limbs sticking out from under him.  His missing teeth grew back in crooked, then fell out, then grew back AGAIN, meaning he actually had 3 sets of front teeth. There might be more in there.  We just don’t know.

Harley, Raleigh, and Sid were Bear’s cats before she moved in.  

She took Harley, a longhair tuxedo, from friends of friends, to keep her out of a shelter.  Harley’s been quadruple-declawed, which is awful, but she’s a very sweet kitty.  She has her own area in the house that Fancy and my boys don’t go into, because she can’t defend herself.  Like Smooch, she has kidney disease. 

Sid was a spontaneous adopt. They were offering a huge cut on adoption prices with a food donation, she saw a black kitten, she snatched him up.  He’s a really weird little guy. Anxious, smart, handsy, no identifiable neck, tiny but built like a beer barrel, cute little voice but has the deepest growl I’ve ever heard on a cat.  He sounds like the AC unit coming on.  It took him 3 years to decide he likes me, but now he lets me pet him all over and will even purr for me and stand on his back legs with his weird little front toes spread out so I can rub his head.  As a baby, he once tried to jump into a heated oven, and we have never let him live that down.

Raleigh was a parking lot stray at Bear’s apartment complex who adopted himself into the family by wooing Sid, then inviting himself inside. As a certified lover-not-fighter, he immediately endeared himself by being snuggly as hell, and she decided to keep him. I was skeptical and thought she should try to find his owners until I met him, at which point I realized that, no, he had made his choice and also he was definitely worth stealing.  He was neutered as a young adult, probably between 9 months and a year old, so he had time to mature sexually, and he has fun with that. He and Sid are gay for one another.  No, for real. Like, literally, Sid bottoms for Raleigh pretty much every night, and I have even seen him jump down and go right over when Raleigh calls for it. Raleigh is confirmed bi (would readily mount Fancy when she was in heat, before she was healthy enough to be spayed), but IDK about Sid.  Is “anxious bottom” an orientation?

And Fancy who, for completeness’ sake, was a starving stray in Bear’s delivery area.  She had an abscessed bite wound, someone had shot her with a BB gun, and her tail was broken.  Bear scooped her up, and $4k and 2 major surgeries later we have a 7-pound house devil who is remarkably healthy and also sometimes very, very sweet.  We’re still $1k in vet debt, but it’s getting paid down slowly. She was infinitely worth it.

I did NOT intend to wind up with 6 cats. It’s a bit much sometimes.  But we do our best, and I do love them all very much.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Hey, my 20 year old cat is getting kind sick with his age. Could you maybe write a little something about Duck and his cat to cheer me up? I adore your writing

Of course!

Which means we interrupt our current schedule of superhero AUs to bring you: KITTY!

Duck’s been in the apartment a little over a year. As childish as it may sound, he takes pride in the fact it’s a place he can afford to pay for himself, and that he gets to furnish and decorate in whatever way he chooses (minus things that would lose him his deposit). 

There’s still something missing, however, and that something is why he’s currently standing in the cat room of the Kepler animal shelter.

“Anyone catchin your eye, hon?” The volunteer asks a she gathers stray, jingling toys from the floor. 

“Just kinda gettin a feel for all of ‘em.” He scritches a white and black kitten through the slats in the cage, gives the white fluffy one that hisses at him a wide berth (he doesn’t take it personally). 

When he gets to the cage at the end of one wall, he finds a medium sized, scruddy tabby cat watching him carefully. Her left ear is missing a chunk, and she has the bearing of someone who can’t figure out why existence is a thing she has to deal with.

But when Duck steps closer, she stands, stretching like a black cat halloween decoration, and bumps her head into the bars. He does his best to pet her through them, and when he stops she levels him with a glare. 

“Mrow.” 

Duck had been expecting a charming “mew” not a deep, twenty-year smoker rasp, and doubles over with a surprised laugh. 

“I see you’ve met Winnifred.” The volunteer smiles at him, “she’s quite the little warrior. She was part of a feral litter that was found without a mother last year. They were found because someones dog saw them, started investigating, and Winnifred launched herself at him. His owner was more than a little amused to find his dog running back with his tail between his legs and a cat latched on his muzzle”

“That why she’s missin part of her ear?”

“Yep. Rest of the litter got adopted easily, as kittens do, but she never seemed to find the right person.”

Duck hunches down, finds yellow eyes watching him and gets an emphatic “mrow” when he scratches her behind her wounded ear.

“Hey there, Winnie. How do you feel about comin home with me?”

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

“Okay, gonna put your bed right here, that way you won’t get too nervous at night by bein too far away from me, got you this real fluffy blanket too, aw, hey, it’s okay, no need to be scared by a blank-”

“DUCK NEWTON!”

“JEsus Minerva, you just scared her under the bed.”

“Who is this her of which you speak?”

“Mrow?”

“Ah, you have acquired an animal companion. She appears to have the makings of a mighty huntress.”

“Yeah, sure, now do you mind? I’m tryin to get her settled in.”

“Apologies Duck Newton, I was merely checking to see if you’d given more thought to-”

“No.”

“Very well. I shall leave you to your furry companion. Perhaps she can convince you of the importance of destiny.”

Minerva disappears, and Winnie blinks at Duck.

“Mrow.”

“Yeah, that’s about how I feel.”

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

It’s the first serious raise he’s gotten since joining the forestry service. Bills are all paid, food and everything else is budgeted for the month with cash to spare. 

So he’s currently got his computer and LAN cable out to do some very important shopping. 

“What do you think? Three story cat condo?”

Winnie hops up on the table, chasing his hand as he moves it on the trackpad.

“You could use some new catnip toys too. Heh, these ones are shaped like little ducks. Hmmm, no these mice ones are bigger, better bargain. Two packs enough?”

“Mrow.” A sandpapery tongue licks his hand.

“You’re right, I’ll get four just to be safe.”

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

“I dunno Juno, things have just gone kinda south with him lately but, I just-”

“Duck, you know I feel about him.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I oughta dump him. But I can’t help feelin, I dunno, like I ain’t givin him a chance.”

“....this is gonna sound weird, but how does Winnie get along with him?”

“She don’t, really. She was okay with him at first, kinda shy like she gets sometimes. Now if he’s over she won’t come anywhere near us.”

“Do I really gotta say that ain’t like her? That cat’d play with a bear if she thought that’d get you to pay attention to her.”

“Shit, you’re right. Okay, I’ll call him now and tell him it’s over.”

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

“I gotta ask” Leo sips his beer as the two of them sit at the kitchen table, “you had any problems with mice this spring? I keep havin to set traps in my cabinet.”

“Nope, ain’t had any issues.”

“Mrow.”

“Hey there kitty-cat, how’s it--uh, think I know why you ain’t had any mice.”

“Huh? Aw, jeez, Winnie, don’t drop that on the table! At least you didn’t leave it in my shoe or somethin. Thanks for keepin our groceries safe.”

“Mrow.” Winnie trots off, head held high.

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

“Well Winnie, that’s that. Your human’s just a regular dipshit now.”

The orange loaf on his chest purrs soothingly as he pets her, focusing on her fur as he lays on his bed in the darkened bedroom.

“Guess I oughta write out a plan or somethin, in case you outlive me. How you feel about livin with Leo, wait, shit, he’s lost his too. Hmm, maybe it oughta be Juno.”

Prickly, padded paws knead at his chest as the purring continues.

“Takin that as a sign you like that plan. Then again….wonder if Indrid would want company. If he ever comes back, I mean. Juno’s got kids, and you’re gettin up in years and don’t much like bein mandhandled. Plus, that trailer’s real fuckin warm. You’d never get chilly. And maybe you’d force him to clean up all those mugs of stale nog”

“Mrowrrrrrr.”

“Don’t gimme that look, the guy’s just a friend, and I feel kinda bad that he’s alone.”

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

Duck clicks the heater up a few more notches as Indrid slips off his Uggs. The Sylph came back in late February, and has finally allowed Duck the chance to buy him dinner as an apology for the punching. 

“Really, you don’t need to go to any trouble, I’ve dealt with worse, oh, hello there.” He chirps delightedly when Winnie bumps against his shin. She follows him to the couch as Duck searches for his wallet, which has chosen now of all times to stray from it’s normal spot on his nightstand.

“Care to join me, tiny predator?”

“She’s havin trouble gettin up on the couch lately.”

“May I lift her?”

“Uh, sure. She’ll let you know if she ain’t in the mood.”

“Alright, come along fuzzy one, ah, there we go. My, you are a dignified, silver-haired grande dame aren’t you.” 

Duck glances up to find Indrid cuddling Winnie, cooing over her as he pets her forehead. The Sylph is right; the once cheddar colored fur on her head is almost entirely gray.

By the time he finds his wallet (in a random boot), Winnie is sound asleep in Indrid’s lap. 

“We cannot leave. I have been chosen.”

Duck laughs, and goes to start some popcorn. No reason they can’t have dinner and movie at home, after all.

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

Duck is exhausted; the apartment is at capacity, the FBI is nosing around town, and he’s been training daily to prepare for the next abomination. 

So he’s more than a little annoyed when a familiar paw bats his nose, waking him up.

“Not even close to breakfast time.”

“Mrow.”

“Get.”

“MROW.” She hops off the bed, meowing louder and louder until he gets up, at which point she scurries into the living room. He follows, intending to bundle her into her bed so she can’t escape until morning. 

But she’s not near her food bowl. She’s on the couch. Or, more accurately, on Indrid, who is curled up on the couch, frightened. 

“‘Drid?”

“It’s all going to end.”

“Bad futures?”

“That’s putting it exceedingly mildly. I wish I could sleep, I’m so very tired.” He pets Winnie, manages a weak smile when she kneads at his thick sweater.  

“Could read to you from one of my tree guides. Might knock you out.”

“...Yes, that actually might work. Thank you, Duck.”

“You’re welcome, be right back with that book. Winnie, you’re in charge until then.”

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

“I have one final thing to move in. Ta dah!” Indrid presents a flat, rectangular basket, filled with thick, fluffy pillow. It’s late November, and while the world was saved, Indrid’s Winnebago got crushed by a Quell monster during the battle. Not that Duck’s complaining about an excuse to move his boyfriend in.

“Great, what it is?”

“It’s a special catbed. I know Winnie is on the upper limit of her years, and that the cold is rough on her joints. I found an old electric blanket in the Winnebago and stuck it under the pillow, so she can have extra warmth without leaving her favorite spot.”

“Thanks, darlin. Sure she’ll love it.” He kisses Indrid’s cheek.

“It’s the least I could do. After all, she was here first.” Indrid kisses his nose, pats Winnie on the head as she pads, slowly, over to investigate the offering. Duck sets it down in her corner, plugging in the blanket. She sniffs it, then settles into her favorite shape, the one Aubrey calls “catloaf.”

“Well, old girl, what do you think? This all gonna be okay?”

Winnie bumps her head against his hand, “Mrow.”

“Yeah, I think so too.” 

[ruffboijuliaburnsides]

and yet, here we are (pt5)

i emerge victorious with... I think it’s not quite a full chapter. I haven’t decided yet. but because I finished a chunk, tumblr gets it!

There is a very brief not-quiet-suicidal thought that is promptly dismissed in the first few paragraphs, just under the cut.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) Now on AO3

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

Jaskier struggled in Geralt's absence, with how overwhelmingly silent the room was when he couldn't speak or sing. The first night he slept poorly, but it was otherwise uneventful, no reason to worry about Geralt on the road, likely not even all the way to his destination, no performances to put on. After waking, he didn't feel like descending to the main room, and tried to convince himself that returning to as normal as possible a routine would be best. He got as far as pulling out his journal, but found himself staring at the most recent unfinished scattering of lyrics for a song whose melody he couldn't quite get right when he'd been working on it last. He stared at it until he noticed the darkening dots of tears falling onto the paper, and shut it with a snap, all but throwing it at his pack across the room, swiping angrily at his eyes.

With Geralt gone, unable to hate himself more for something Jaskier realistically didn't want him to take blame for, Jaskier allowed himself to feel angry. Angry that Geralt wouldn't listen to him that the djinn wouldn't do anything to help him sleep. Bitter that Geralt hadn't been more careful with what he said. Angry that Geralt had been able to find some way to save his life but not his voice.

Bitter that he'd been saved in this state at all. There was no place in the world for a bard with no voice, and part of him wondered if it wouldn't have been better if Geralt hadn't been able to get him help in time.

Jaskier quashed that line of thought almost as soon as it came up. It was one thing to be angry and bitter, but alive was better than not. Alive meant he could stay with Geralt. Alive meant more wine, and new adventures, and regardless of the situation, as angry and miserable as Jaskier was now, he wanted to see more of the world.

He still let himself stew angrily the entire first day he was there alone, and left the room only for lunch and supper. He tried as best he could to smile at Janah - the innkeeper's name, he learned - who was almost too kind to bear when she realized that rather than simply being shy the afternoon before, he actually couldn't speak. She fed him up at the bar, chatted about the local gossip that he had no context for, told him about interesting patrons she'd had before, and shooed away anyone who tried to ask him questions or otherwise bother him.

He drank himself nearly into a stupor after supper that night, despite the fact that he shouldn't have been wasting what little money they had, and had essentially emptied the coin purse for Janah by the end of the evening, and barely remembered her helping him upstairs to his bed. The next morning he woke to a pitcher of water and a fresh loaf of bread on a tray on the table, next to Geralt's coin purse, refilled with all the coin he'd spent the night before. The note set between them simply read, "I can spare one night's worth of ale for you to drown whatever sorrows you have hidden away. Eat and drink, you'll feel better."

Jaskier sat at the table and cried silently over her kindness even as he forced himself to eat and drink as instructed. Once he finished, he placed the tray in the hall and, feeling the headache pounding behind his eyes not improving, climbed back into bed. He lay there dozing in and out of unsatisfying sleep, crying intermittently, until long after sunset, unable to summon the energy to get out of bed for meals, let alone dress and make his way downstairs. The silence rang in his ears.

Geralt was planning to be gone four days at the most, and when he hadn't made it back to the inn by the time the sun had set and the evening crowd was well on their way to drunk on that second day since he'd left, Jaskier felt confident that Geralt wouldn't be back until the next day, at least. It was for the best, he thought, because it would allow him to purge as much of this... melancholy as possible before Geralt came back.

He was curled up and staring blankly out the dirty glass of the window next to the bed when the door opened. He only barely recognized the sound of it, his mind distant and unreachable, and he thought faintly that it was good he wasn't crying - hopefully Janah would assume he was asleep, and leave whatever reason she was coming upstairs until tomorrow. Maybe he could be a person tomorrow. There were other sounds, but they were faint, and Jaskier couldn't bring himself to even care about what they might be.

He only half processed the feeling of someone sitting on the edge of the bed, a soft voice speaking sounds he couldn't quite turn into words, the feeling of being pulled upright and into someone's arms. It was the warmth of those arms wrapped around him, the rumble of quiet speech, that pulled him (painfully, like through molasses by a toothed shackle) back into himself.

Geralt was holding him, all but cradled against his chest, murmuring worriedly. "Come back, Jaskier. Come on, you're strong enough." Jaskier tucked it away in the back of his head, the fact that Geralt didn't seem too shocked to find Jaskier had just left his body behind like that, even if he didn't mean to do it. He shifted, exhaled shakily, and Geralt's hold tightened slightly.

"Okay, Jaskier?" he asked, his voice vibrating through his chest almost like a cat's purr, resonating through Jaskier's bones in a way that made him want Geralt to just keep talking forever. That was too much of an ask, obviously, but for a moment Jaskier actually felt like he could breathe. Jaskier nodded, then shook his head, and found the tears spilling over again despite himself. He would've thought he didn't have a tear left in him, but apparently his body had taken time during his little mental jaunt to the foggy nowhere he'd spent the evening in to create more.

Geralt let out an unhappy grumble at his response, but simply shifts Jaskier into a little more comfortable of a position, Jaskier's head tucked under his chin. It was warm and safe and Jaskier wished for just a moment that he could have this forever, this space in Geralt's arms, not just now while he's so broken and Geralt feels so guilty. He knew he couldn't, but just for now, he could pretend. Geralt held him, still and silent, until Jaskier's breathing evened out and his tears finally stopped.

"Got you something," Geralt said, shifting to try to reach his things. Jaskier pushed off his chest reluctantly to allow him to stretch further, head tilted curiously. Since when did Geralt get him things? Geralt pulled out what looked briefly like a little wooden book of some sort, before Jaskier lit up and reached out for it in recognition, opening the wooden panels to reveal the wax tablets and stylus inside. It was nice, as well, the wax the perfect firmness for quick writing, without needing too much effort to scratch letters into the surface. The stylus was a design Jaskier had seen before, that had a mild enchantment on it that warmed both the metal ends, to better cut through the wax when writing, and to easily and quickly smooth the wax out to write something else.

Jaskier ran his fingers lightly over the tablets for a moment as it really sank in, in a different way, that he would be dependent on this tool and this man who gave it to him, for the foreseeable future. That it wasn't going to be a quick or easy fix to get his voice back. The tablet was bittersweet - a tool to let him communicate, but a reminder of everything he'd lost. He wondered if that aching bitterness under the sweet would be with him forever, or if it would fade.

Thanks. Jaskier scribbled in the wax after a moment, holding it up for Geralt to see. The corners of the witcher's eyes crinkled slightly and his mouth twitched a bit in what Jaskier had come to recognize as a smile.

"There are ways to speak with your hands that we can learn, if you want," Geralt says as Jaskier smoothes the wax to flat again. "But I thought this would be cheaper than paper when we can't get it, and easier than finding the right kind of dirt." Jaskier couldn't help a little bark of laughter at that, unnervingly silent as it was, at the mental image of Geralt trying to find a patch of dirt every time Jaskier wanted to say something. Easier indeed.

Hand speak. Like soldiers? Jaskier wrote, tilting the tablet towards Geralt. He knew that soldiers or scouts would often have hand signals they used to communicate silently. He wasn't sure anything like that would have even a fraction of the words he'd want to say, but it would at least be faster than writing.

"Similar," Geralt answered with a nod. "Better for actually talking, though. They have a kind of hand speech in Mahakam that would suit, I think." Jaskier's eyebrows shot up, because Geralt was relying on the possibility that the dwarves and gnomes that essentially ruled the mountain city would allow them in to learn it in the first place.

How get in? Jaskier wrote, looking up at Geralt uncertainly. Geralt's jaw set in a way that made it clear he'd thought about the difficulty too, possibly a lot.

"Not sure," Geralt admitted. "We'll convince them." And that was that, apparently. Jaskier couldn't quite disbelieve him, either, when he spoke like that. So they'd go to Mahakam and the two of them would learn how to speak with their hands. Jaskier wouldn't deny that sounded like a dream come true, to be able to speak faster than he could write, even if it was with hands instead of lips and voice. It was a kind of acceptance, though, a bigger kind than just a wax tablet represented. As much as it excited him, it also made something twist up unpleasantly in his chest.

Geralt seemed to notice the shift in Jaskier's demeanor, and frowned slightly, watching Jaskier's face intently. Jaskier had to remind himself that it was just necessity, his expressions helped Geralt understand what he was saying - or not saying - and so Geralt watched like he was drinking Jaskier in. Just to be kind. It didn't mean anything more than that. He waved Geralt off, and wrote, Just tired, on the tablet. Which, admittedly, was not untrue, despite how little he'd done and how much he'd slept all day.

"Hm," Geralt grunted in response, and got to his feet to strip down and get ready to sleep. Jaskier smoothed the wax down and traced the edges of the wood with a faint smile. Everything else aside, the knowledge that Geralt was trying this hard to find solutions for him was nice. More than nice. It made Jaskier want to throw caution to the wind and kiss Geralt thoroughly. He wouldn't, lest he drive Geralt away, put him off of the comforting touches he'd been allowing Jaskier to have the past... had it been a week? Maybe over a week, since he woke up silent. The choking feeling of words he couldn't speak started rising in his throat, and he set the wax tablet on the windowsill, then slid under the blankets to curl up and try to fight it down while Geralt went through his small habits and rituals.

It was still there trying to push out in a scream he couldn't voice when Geralt put out the candles and climbed into the bed, immediately curling against the line of Jaskier's back as he had every night since he heard Jaskier crying in the middle of the night and came to hold him. The weight of Geralt's arm draped over his stomach was enough to start to dissolve the choking feeling in Jaskier's throat, and he sighed softly in relief, melting back into Geralt's chest. He knew it was Geralt trying to be comforting and compassionate. He knew that once he was a little less falling apart, Geralt would go back to his own bed or bedroll. But until that day, Jaskier was going to appreciate this and soak up as much of the affection as he could.

"G'night, Jaskier," Geralt mumbled, his breath warming the back of Jaskier's neck and sending shivers down his spine. Jaskier squeezed the wrist of the arm Geralt had slung over him, and hoped that little touch communicated a reciprocal.

Jaskier drifted off with the soft slow rhythm of Geralt's breathing lulling him into sleep.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) Now on AO3

[needdl]

NejitenMonth Day 5: Scars/Tattoos

Available on FFN or AO3

Neji’s mouth was a flat, disapproving line as he held her hand firmly, and she tilted her head over to grin at him. “How’s going over on your end, babe?”

His frown deepened at the endearment, which he’d told her he found degrading. He grunted. Tenten laughed a little and turned her head back up to look at the ceiling, closing her eyes and wincing a little as the needle scraped over the bones on her wrist.

Neji noticed, of course. “I told you that you shouldn’t do this.”

“Too late,” she chirped back. She ran her fingers over his knuckles, and his expression softened slightly (even though she knew he didn’t mean to do it, he just had an involuntary response because he liked her that much.) 

“Done.” Her tattoo artist sat back, looking as expressionless as he had when he first started. She couldn’t get a read on the guy, but maybe that was okay.

Neji stood behind her as she paid and got her aftercare kit, then they left for his car, still holding hands even though Neji was grumpy. Tenten had looked at the tattoo right after the artist had finished, but Neji hadn’t and now it was covered by bandages and he would have to wait. He had no idea what it was, and Tenten was admittedly a little nervous about what he would think of it.

Their lives continued for the next few days while it healed. Tenten was in the finishing stages of moving her stuff to Neji’s apartment, so she was going back and forth a few times a day with her odds and ends. They both went to work and came back. Neji had to work late one night, so it was just her and the cat hanging out and watching Netflix. Neji got home with takeout, so they ate in front of the TV and then had wine on the balcony. (And then had sex on the balcony- because it was private, thank you very much.)

Tenten changed her tattoo bandages after her shower, so Neji still didn’t see it until the day she took the bandages off completely. And she was in a bit of a rush that morning to get out the door (she ran late admiring her pretty tattoo- so what?) so she’d just had time to kiss him and the cat goodbye before ducking out the door.

(They still hadn’t named the cat, because they hadn’t really meant to adopt him. They were lucky the apartment building allowed pets.)

Tenten went through her work day as normal, occasionally getting compliments on her tattoo, and then went grocery shopping on her way home.

Neji was home already, cat in his lap as he sat over their coffee table going over paperwork. Tenten quietly watched him stroke the purring cat for a few moments before making some noise as she took off her shoes and hollered, “I’m home!”

They swiveled with hilarious synchrony to look at her, then Neji carefully nudged the cat off his lap so he could rise and kiss her. She hummed happily then passed him a bag of groceries, and they headed into the kitchen to put everything away. 

Tenten was reaching up to put the tea away in the cupboard when Neji suddenly stopped her and yanked her hand around to examine her wrist.

Aha. He’d spotted her tattoo.

It wasn’t terribly complicated, just his, Lee’s, and Gai’s initials, but the way he stared at it made it seem like it was some alien script.

After a few long moments of him staring blankly and not saying anything, Tenten cleared her throat. “Honey?”

He blinked a few times, then gently lowered her wrist. “It’s… nice.” He meant it, too, and she beamed.

Neji was just as disapproving of the next tattoo, even though he appreciated her first one.

He held her hand again in the chair, all the while telling her that she should stop, even when the tattoo was almost complete and it would be weirder to walk away. Tenten just smiled at him the whole time.

Neji could bluster all he wanted, there was no way she wasn’t getting this tattoo done. She was newly engaged, after all. She needed something to commemorate it.

Not that Neji knew that was why she was getting a tattoo, but he could just see it later and get all flustered.

Neji was grumbling to himself over the permanence of tattoos as he went through his work email on his phone, absently lacing their fingers together on his free hand. Tenten stifled a snort.

Haha, loser, you like your fiance.

The tattoo took a little longer this time- and the artist was just as reticent as before- but before long it was all finished and they were back home going through their list of potential cat names.

Because her new tattoo was on her shoulder blade and therefore almost always covered, Neji didn’t see it until she wasn’t wearing a shirt. And it wasn’t even during sex, surprisingly, it was when they were coming home from a jog and she stripped off her lightweight tee with complaints of the sweat.

She went into the kitchen to get them both some water while Neji put their shoes away, and when she turned around to toss his to him he almost fumbled the catch and was three centimeters short of getting decked in the face.

She blinked at him, startled. Neji didn’t even bother to acknowledge his error, instead marching towards her and spinning her around to examine her back. Her brow furrowed. “Uh, Neji?”

“Your new tattoo.”

“Oh.” His hand drifted slowly over her skin, over the small silhouette of a bird in flight, and his fingers were almost reverent.

It was a tattoo that meant a lot to both of them but especially to Neji, and Tenten was proud to bear it on her skin.

Neji bent his head and pressed a slow kiss to the mark, clearly feeling too emotional to speak. Tenten bit her lip as her own emotions swelled.

Neji stepped back, and she waited for him to say something about how he couldn’t believe she got a tattoo for him.

“Your skin is really sweaty. Gross.” He wiped his mouth.

Ah. “You’re so romantic.”

“Yes. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Tenten had officially landed her dream job, and much to Neji’s disgruntlement that meant getting a tattoo.

“I don’t know why you keep doing this,” he complained after she came home from her consultation. She rolled her eyes in return. She was feeling a little crabby and snappish that day, and his attitude wasn’t helping.

“Because I want to ruin my skin with horrible permanent marks,” she snarled, slamming the door to the coat closet. Neji wisely kept silent. She shot him one last mean look then scooped up The Cat to go anger-cuddle in bed.

Neji gave her some alone time for the next hour, then abruptly came into the room to hand her a bouquet of carnations and a hot pad for her cramps. She had no idea when he’d learned her menstrual cycle, but she appreciated it.

She gave him an half-apologetic look and he kissed her cheek, then retreated again. The Cat (they really needed a name) got up and pulled the door open with his paw, sat for a bit looking down the hallway, then followed after Neji. Tenten yawned and settled the hot pad over her lower stomach before pulling her book off the nightstand to keep reading. 

She emerged twenty minutes later to put the carnations in a vase and help Neji with dinner, feeling much better. He absently touched her lower back as she settled next to him with the cutting board and the leeks, and she leaned up to kiss his jaw.

The actual tattooing came later. Neji couldn’t make it, so instead Ino went with Tenten. It was a very different experience- mostly because Ino subtly flirted with the tattoo artist most of the time they were there, and incredibly enough he actually talked back. 

The two of them were still deep in conversation even after Tenten had wrapped up paying, but she was happy to just dawdle on her phone while Ino slyly got the man’s phone number- she hadn’t been focused on dating while she was getting her master’s degree, and it was nice to see her so bright and engaging again. She even had the artist blushing at one point, and he was so pale that Tenten was shocked to see the evidence of blood in his veins. She’d really just assumed he was a tattooing robot.

They departed fifteen minutes later with Ino humming happily as she looked at her new contact- “Sai 🖌” and Tenten grinning to herself as she settled gingerly into the passenger seat of Ino’s car (the tattoo was down her spine and it had been extremely painful to get it done but it looked dope as hell).

Ino came up to the apartment for a bit for some snacks and conversation, plus some premium cat snuggles, and headed out soon after with a cheerful wave and promises to get lunch soon.

Neji didn’t get home until Tenten had already gone to bed, sleeping on her stomach after discovering that every other way was pretty uncomfortable. He smelled a little like alcohol when he stopped to kiss her head.

“How was Choji’s bachelor party?” She murmured drowsily.

“Good. Less rowdy than I expected, frankly.” He crossed to the dresser and started changing into his sleeping clothes, and Tenten closed her eyes again. 

She dozed off while he was washing up in the bathroom, but woke up again when he settled into bed next to her and kissed her head again. She reached out her arm to settle over his waist. “Glad you had fun,” she whispered. 

He laced their fingers together with a wordless murmur, already dozing off. Mr. Cat jumped up onto the edge of the mattress and settled in, tucking his paws underneath himself so he was cat-loaf shaped. 

Nice, Tenten thought, and then she was asleep.

She woke up the next morning to Mr. Cat sitting on her butt, which Neji found quite humorous, but she elected to ignore them both and fell back asleep. Neji got up and made himself some toast, then very carefully returned to the bedroom and ate it without getting a single crumb on the bed, which was an incredible talent and the real reason Tenten was marrying him. 

(He also shared some butter with Mr. Cat, but would deny it if she asked.)

Tenten woke some twenty-odd minutes later and was ready to get up. She stifled a grunt of pain when she moved her back for the first time and the skin felt like it’d been poked with a needle a bunch of times (for whatever reason), but it was easy to ignore after that. 

She bullied Neji into going to make her toast but was not successful in keeping the crumbs off the bed and was reprimanded.

Eventually they had to get up and go do things, which was a bummer. Luckily enough for Tenten the weather was warm enough that she could wear a loose-fitting shirt with no bra and avoid having to bandage her tattoo, and luckily enough for Neji the weather was warm and his fiance walked around with no bra.

(He never said anything, but his eyes lingered.)

They had been going over wedding plans for almost two hours and decided they needed a break. Tenten stood up to stretch, and Neji actually asked, “Can I see the tattoo?”

Obligingly she turned and pulled up the shirt so he could see the minimalist letters going down her back- “PERSIST”.

He ran his hand down her skin right next to the letters, not saying anything. She swivelled her head to look back at him but he didn’t meet her questioning eyes, just stared for several moments longer before saying in a rough voice, “It’s surprisingly sexy.”

“Ex-cuse you, surprisingly?”

“Yes.” He faced her indignance head on and said, “You know how I feel about tattoos.”

“You just weren’t looking at them on the right person,” she purred. She took the shirt off the rest of the way and turned to face him.

Hilariously enough, she was stomach-down for a lot of the sex that afternoon slash evening- Neji flipped her back over so many times when she tried turning to face him that she just settled down like that.

“Settled” being the operative word- the things they did together were pretty, ahem, active. 

Tenten made her way out of the bedroom in the late afternoon and walked completely nude into the kitchen, fed Mr. Cat, then hurried away again. Neji welcomed her back with open arms and a keen glint in his eye.

They went out for drinks the next week with their friends to celebrate Tenten’s new job and wound up making their way to a club for some after-drink drinks, which was a great idea that also happened to be horrible for their livers.

Tenten was dancing with Ino and Sakura when she noticed Neji approaching them. He snagged her with a hand on her waist- which made her smile, because Neji wasn’t suave by any means but he was so deliberate in all his actions that sometimes the lines blurred- and pulled her a little ways away so they could dance together.

Tenten beamed up at him. She knew he didn’t really like dancing, or club music, or clubs, but he wouldn’t have come if he didn’t want to and she was glad to have him here.

She leaned up and pressed a sweet kiss to his mouth, then looped her arms around his neck so they could sway together. He put his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, expression as grave as ever, but his grip around her waist was tender. She lightly rubbed her nose against his, humming happily. She was tipsy but not drunk, and that usually had her feeling pretty cuddly.

He pulled her close to him as they turned- it really wasn’t an appropriate dance move for the fast-paced club music, but it was the most Neji would usually do in this setting- and Tenten let out a happy sigh and rested her head against his shoulder.

He let her go back to Sakura and Ino a few songs later, after pressing a parting kiss to her mouth and giving her a sweet smile. Tenten returned to her friends with a happy glow about her, and they immediately proceeded to tease her mercilessly for the rest of the night.

Much later, she and Neji walked arm-in-arm down to where they’d parked the car, waving goodbye as their friends parted ways. Ino and Sakura, who had of course driven together, were hitching along with Shikamaru and Choji on their way home, as both women had cheerfully decided neither of them wanted to be a designated driver and had indulged themselves.

Fortunately for the soon-to-be Hyuga-Huangs, Neji never cared for getting drunk and was perfectly safe to drive. Which meant that Tenten could have a really fun time getting handsy in the passenger seat while he did his best to focus on the road, then end up getting sleepy and not want to do anything other than go to bed once they got home.

Neji obligingly tucked her in and kissed her goodnight, which was nice of him. Then he quietly sat out in the living room drinking tea and petting the cat as he continued wedding planning.

“When will you stop getting tattoos?” Neji demanded.

Tenten yawned. “Dunno. This is only the fourth, you know.” Sai ignored them both as he continued working- which was hilarious, given that he’d become something of a regular in their group of friends now that he and Ino were going steady.

He’d talk when he wanted to, Tenten knew. He was just blunt.

Neji continued to scowl down at her. “Ridiculous.”

She grinned cheekily up at him and shot back, “You gripe a lot for someone who likes to spin me over and stare at my back tattoos during sex.”

Neji flushed crimson, and even Sai let out a little noise and slowed his movements with the needle. Tenten smirked, unabashed.

They were finished twenty minutes later and driving home, Neji still a little pink and refusing to speak. Tenten just smiled held his hand with hers as they drove, running her fingers over his palm.

The magnolia branch going down her thigh wasn’t exactly meaningful like her other tattoos had been, but it was pretty and it was sexy, so Tenten liked it just as much as her others. And for all his blustering, Neji definitely liked all of her tattoos, so maybe she’d be able to get him to shut up on the next one.

It was not the case. “Tenten-”

“Huuuuuushhhhh,” she told him, eyes closed. “I’m celebrating, I’m getting married next week.”

“So am I,” he snapped back. “You don’t see me getting a tattoo.”

She opened her eyes hopefully. “You could-”

“No.” She pouted.

“We could be matching, it’d be cute!”

“No.”

“Hmph.” She exaggerated her pout a little more and was pleased to see him eyeing her mouth. 

This time the tattoo was on her right hand- a tiny black heart, tucked into the knuckle closest to her hand on her ring finger by her pinky. 

It hurt like the dickens to get it done, and the pain was almost making Tenten’s eyes water- and then it really was, and tears were dripping down her temples.

Neji did not take it well. “Tenten. What’s going on. Are you hurt? Should he stop? Tenten-”

She cracked open one eye and grunted up at him, “Just digging into the bone. I’m good, Sai, keep going.”

Sai, who had not stopped, muttered absently, “Okay.”

Neji glared at her as he tenderly wiped her tears away. “If you’re fine, then stop crying.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Well, I don’t like it so you must cease.”

She smiled softly up at him, her heart melting at his verbose wording. “I’ll try, babe.”

“Done,” Sai said shortly. He pulled back and started started putting his things away. “Your magnolia branch is still the best one.”

Tenten grinned at him- he’d definitely enjoyed the magnolia blossoms the most, seemingly because he liked the artistry that went into it. All of her other tattoos were pretty minimalist, after all. “Yeah, that’s aesthetically my favorite, but the other ones mean a lot to me.”

“Whatever,” Sai said offhandedly. “Let’s go ring you up.”

Tenten bit back a laugh and got out of the chair, lifting her arms above her head to stretch. Neji stood too and grabbed her hand to inspect the tattoo, then placed his palm on the small of her back as they walked over to the front desk.

Tenten paid and got her aftercare kit. “Thanks, Sai. See you later!”

“At your wedding,” he said. “I’m Ino’s plus one.”

Tenten grinned at him, pleased he was volunteering the information and also that he looked so happy to say it. “That’s great! Can’t wait to see you there, then.”

“Hopefully you can’t wait for a few other reasons,” Neji grumbled.

“Right, right- wedding gifts, of course…” They waved to Sai as they walked out the door, and once they were out of sight by the car Neji suddenly pinned her to the door.

“Wedding gifts, Tenten, really?”

She laughed. “I thought it was funny!”

“You’re a menace.” He kissed her slowly, then stepped back and opened the car door for her. She smiled and patted his butt before grandly taking a seat. 

Neji sat down in the driver’s seat and started the car. “No more tattoos now.”

“Hm. We’ll see.”

He didn’t even protest this time, just shaking his head with a small smile as he started the drive home.

[moonlightobrien]

The Worst Day - Stallison {THG}

Word Count; 4184

Warnings: swearing, semi violence (I guess.)

Characters: allison argent/stiles stilinski.

Authors Note: ohmygod! i finally finally finished the first chapter, it took me the entire day to finish this chapter. One day, and 9 hours to be exact haha. This chapter/series is dedicated to @obrjens, @mischiefandi, and every stallison stans that are out there. I’m beyond happy that this is finally written and planned out. More chapters are coming, I don’t know when the next chapter will be since I am busy with work, and editing. But, I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and get some stallison feels while you are at it! 

Allison’s POV

District 15.

The district of landscaping, where my people including my sister, my mom and I have to work our asses off to even get some food in our systems. Panem is divided into 15 districts, I’ve heard stories of District 13 being the ‘unknown district’ but I’ve never fully went in depth with these stories. Sometimes, I would cross over to District 14 to see different scenery instead of my own. But, today was a different day for me and the rest of the districts. It was hunger games day, the worst day of every year, where one tribute from each district is chosen to be in the hunger games until one is standing, hearing about the fallen tributes makes me sick to my stomach, my heart aches for the fallen tributes and their parents. No one deserves to be living like this, how can anyone live like this. Thinking about the hunger games, and how close the bell for the tributes to go to the Hall of Justice building terrifies me. Especially, for my family.

Caesar Fickerman, and the gamemaster himself Seneca Crane was doing a interview on how he was going to corrupt this year Hunger Games, and how this year is going to be different than the last games. “I think it’s our tradition, it comes out of a particularity painful part of our history,”

“Yes,” Caesar agreed. “But, it’s been a way we’ve been able to heal, at first it was a reminder of the rebellion, it was a price of the districts had to pay, but I think it has grown all from that, netting us all together.”

“This is your third year’s game, what defines your personal situation?”

“NO, NO,” Nicole screamed in horror, her body wrapped into my chest, and arms. “It’s okay, you were dreaming, you were dreaming,” I tried to calm her down, as I can feel her heart increase rapidly, “It was me,” Her soft cries breaks my heart, “I know, there are so many names in there, Nicole, they are not going to pick you.” Nicole whispers in my ear, which I already know what she wants me to do. Our father died in a mining accident, but when I was younger, he would sing me this song that stuck in my memory forever, I deeply deeply miss him. “Deep in the meadow, under the willow, a bed of grass as soft green pillow.” Nicole and I both sang in unison.

“You remember that song, you finish it for me. I have to go.”

“Where?” Nicole curiously asked, “I just have to go, but I will be back. Love you.” I walked downstairs, wrapping my jacket around my shoulders as I can hear the cat hissing at me that Nicole found, “I still cook you,” Then, I left. My legs starts to pick up some speed, as my amber eyes starts looking around the scenery, the people, how we have to live like we are slaves. Other districts thinks this is a paradise since we are the district of landscaping, but this is definitely not paradise. My body went under the barbed wire as my feet took me to my favorite place; the woods. The woods is the most peaceful place where I can escape my thoughts about the horrifying hunger games. 

I grab my bow and arrow, searching for something eatable for my family to have for dinner. I spot a deer five miles away from me, I began to pull my arrow towards my cheek, aiming correctly to shoot until the deer figured out what I was about to do, and sprint away. My feet started to follow his movements really quickly, I start to ravel some leaves in my palms crunching them letting the crumbled leaves flow in the wind, as well as grabbing a small rock popping it off my bow making the deer flee, I start to follow the deer again, this time, I got a really good aim on it; I start to pull my arrow back. “What are you going to do with that when you kill it?” Shit, I missed. “Damn you, Kira. It’s not funny.” Kira and I have been best friends since childhood, our mothers knew each other back when things in Panem was normal. “What are you going to do with a 100 pound deer, Alls.” Kira laughed. “I was going to sell it to a Peacemaker, and at least get some money out of it, since this place can’t even afford a dime to get some food in our stomachs.” The thought of food made her stomach growl begging for something to eat. “I wouldn’t sell anything to those assholes, especially since the games are coming up,” I roll my eyes, but at the same time Kira is right about those peacekeepers being assholes, our president is a evil, cruel son of a bitch. “Like, you don’t sell to any peacekeepers,” My eyes scan to Kira’s bag seeing that she had her kitsune sword, instead of her bow and arrow that gave her for her 16th birthday, I wish that Panem was back to the way it was before, yet I realized that it was never normal, it was always the same. “No, not today, did I mentioned that the hunger games were today.” I chuckled, “Well, it was the first deer I saw in a year, at least I would’ve had something for dinner, but someone had to ruin my plans.”

“You’re welcome,” A smirk slowly started to appear on her face, she grabbed a rock throwing it in the air, birds started to scatter flying upward, I start to pull my arrow near my cheek realising my arrow quickly hitting one of the birds, and laughed. “Let’s go to our favorite spot,” Kira spoked, giving me a smile. Kira and I start walking towards our favorite spot where it was a view of the mountains, Kira spotted it when we were eight years old, sometimes I would go there at night just to clear my head from everything, mostly my thoughts; how my thoughts can take over me, making me terrified of what the outcomes will be. “What if they stopped watching? It’s disgusting, watching and rooting for our favorite tributes; I can only imagine what their parents feel, seeing their kids in that area. Absolutely, cruel.”

“They won’t, Kira. You know how our president is. A absolute shithead. Sometimes, I wonder if or when our lives will be back to ours, instead of being in the hands of someone who doesn’t give a fuck about us,” Kira can hear the anger in my voice, she knows how much I hate the Capital, how much I want to destroy everyone, and everything in that place including the President. “We could do it, you know? Take off in the mountains, go somewhere else where we don’t have to deal with any of this.”

“They’re catch us, cut off our tongues, make us sit on electric chairs, or worse. I can’t even think of worse. We wouldn’t even make it five miles from here.” Kira ignored that comment, she was always the hopeful one, which I’m glad that I have as a best friend, I need some hope in my life. “No, we will get five miles, I will go that way.” She points near the mountains view, my brain actually started to put that into consideration, but it was a long shot, very impossible. “I have Nicole, and you have your sisters.”

“They can come with us,” Kira replied. “Nicole in the woods?” I replied back with sarcasm in my voice. “You’re probably right, oh my god. I almost forget,” She pulls out a little loaf of bread, my stomach instantly begged for it, “Oh my god, is this real?” My fingers immediately grabs it, I put it up to my nostrils smelling that delicious flavor of yeast and dough, it smelled so good. “It better be, it cost me a squirrel.” I ripped off a piece for her, so we can both savor it; most of the time, it’s either hunting or no food for the day which is usually the case, those are the worst days; even the littlest bits of food is worth it. “Happy Hunger Games,” Kira mocked, “And, may the odds be in your favor,” We love mocking the Capital, at least it will give us some laughter; Panem is very depressing, so a little bit of laughter makes me somewhat happier than I was before. “How many times is your name been drawn?” I asked, praying to god that it is none. “35, I guess the odds are not in my favor,” I look at her with saddened eyes, Kira is like a sister to me, and the thought of her entering the area makes my heart drop into my stomach, I can’t bear to lose another person in my life. Especially, her. “I better get going, Nicole is waiting on me, and I have to get ready for the Reaping, see you there.”

“See you there.”

The Reaping; where all the tributes from their districts all sign in, and get lined up in front of the Hall of Justice to see if their name was drawn to be forced into the Hunger Games. Some of the kids that I went to school with died in that area, and some survived. More died than others survived. It devastates me seeing little kids like Nicole’s age go into something so real, and so dangerous without proper skill training, the anger I feel everytime I see our president, it boils me to the core, makes me feel like I am on fire, and it’s scorching high nonstop. Before, I go home, I decided to go over to the Black Market to trade off something for a bag of marbles, we don’t really have that many toys or items to keep us occupied, “Here you go, girl.” My eyes scan over to this golden pin that is so beautiful, “What’s this?” I questioned. “It’s a mockingjay pin,”

“How much?”

“You keep it,” Usually, I have to buy or sometimes, beg for items for my family, which sucks but I have to do it in order to survive, “Thank you,” Then, I left heading back home.

“Mom?” Nicole always felt like our mom didn’t pay enough attention to her, it was only me. She turns around facing Nicole, “Oh, look at you. You look beautiful, better tuck in that tail, little duck.” Nicole smiled at my complaint, but I know she still feels like a outcast ever since Dad died. “I fix something for you too,” My mother spoked, her voice was breaking; she is still grieving my father, “Okay,” I replied back with a smile towards Nicole, going upstairs to take a quick bath.

I start scrubbing my toes feeling the hot water on my skin making me warm since there were months where we didn’t get any heat, and we rely on blankets to keep us from frostbite. I lift the bucket dumping the water on my face, making me wake up; focused on what is about to happen. Preparing me for the consequences and the fear of everything that is about to come. I step out of the bath bucket, walking over to my room seeing a light blue dress on my bed. My fingers eagerly grabs the dress pulling it over my body, looking at myself in the mirror until my mother comes in, putting my hair into a long braid, “Now, you look beautiful too.”

“I wish I looked like you,” Nicole said from behind, my mom had this hurt look on her face, she knows that it kills her seeing Nicole being very insecure, “Aw, no. I wish I was like you, little duck.” Then, the most terrifying sound that rattles my ears was the bell, Nicole knew what that meant. “Hey, do I want to see what I got you today?” I show her a golden pin with a bird on it, it was absolutely gorgeous in her eyes, and she smiled brightly. “It’s a mockingjay pin to protect you, as long as you hold on to it, nothing bad will ever happened to you.” I instantly pull her into a hug, our bodies colliding into each other, I can feel tears welling up into my eyes, this is the last time I’m going to see her, I have no idea what is going to happen, but I have to be strong, I have to be brave, even though right now I am scared to death.

It’s time, all of the families hug their children for the last time if they ever going to see them again; all the girls and boys hold hands with their sisters and brothers heading over to Hall of Justice, Nicole, my mother, and I started to head over there until my sister startled with fear as she sees peacekeepers, and a line of girls and boys being signed in. I tried to calm her down, “It’s okay, Nicole. It’s time to sign in, they are just going to take a little bit of blood,”

“You didn’t say-”

“I know, it doesn’t hurt much.” I put my hand on her cheeks as I see the tears flowing down her face, she was so scared, I hate it when she is in pain or scared out of her mind, it makes my heart crumble, she doesn’t deserve this; she is only a child. “Go over to the little kids section, and I will meet you there alright.”

“Next, next.” Nicole finally budge giving the peacekeeper her finger, she startled out of the shock, placing her fingerprint on the paper as the peacekeeper sees that it was actually her on the screen with green letters highlighted. It was my turn, but I was more concerned about Nicole, it did stung a little, and then the peacekeeper left me through. My amber honey eyes started to look around for Nicole, but I couldn’t find her until I see Josh who was my long time childhood friend, we haven’t seen each other in forever until now. “You okay?” He mouthed.

I nodded.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor, now before we began, we have a very special film brought to you all the way from the Capital.” Yeah, what a wonderful special film, thanks Capital. “War, terrible war.” Josh mouthed, I chuckled. “War, terrible war, with those orphan and motherless child. This was the uprising that brought us our land, the country that fed them, protected them. Then came the peace, hard fought, soley won; the people rose up from the ashes and a new era was born. The freedom has a cost, and the traitors were defeated. Peace, War as a nation, we would never know this treason again, and so it was decreed that each year, the various districts of Panem would offer up in tribute. One young man and woman to fight to the death,” Anger raising up in my bones, it was a wildfire inside of me, a monster that wanted to be uncaged from hearing the President’s voice, my eyes looked all around to see all the kids looking up at the screen from this cruel so called special film, “And, it peg you to honor, courage and sacrifice- the lone victor will bathe in riches, will serve as our reminder of our generosity, and our forgiveness. This is how we remember our past, this is how we safeguard our future.”

“I just love that,” She cheerly smiles, “Now, the time has come to select one courageous young man and woman for the honor of representing District 15 in the 78th Hunger Games, as usual, ladies first.” Effie goes over to the left bowl twirling her hand, grabbing the slip of paper, she starts unfolding it, “Nicole Argent,” She was so scared when she heard her name. No, no no. This is a nightmare, wake up, Allison. Wake up. “Where are you?” The kids start to make a pathway for her to come forward, she tucks in her little tail. “Well, come on up. Come on up.”

“Nicole, nicole.” The peacekeepers tried to hold me down, but I was fighting back; I’m not letting my sister enter the area, “No, I VOLUNTEER, I VOLUNTEER,” I pushed the peacekeepers away from me looking up straight at them, “I volunteer as tribute!” I shouted. I just couldn’t bear the thought of Nicole entering that area. “I believe we have a volunteer, um Mr.Mayor?” I immediately wrap my arms around Nicole’s body, “Nicole, you need to get out of here.”

“No! No! No!” She started shouting, “Go find Mom,” My voice was shaky, “No!”

“Nicole, go find Mom,” Tears started to flow down my eyes, “No!” She wouldn’t let go, but I had to do this, “I’m so sorry,” Josh came scooping Nicole into his arms, as I can hear the screams from Nicole, I wiped the tears away trying to be strong. “This isn’t me,” I spoked, confidently. The peacekeepers started to take me up to the stage, as my mind started to race, and my heart beating very fast as I realise that right now, my life is on my line, and if I die, it was for my district. “In mad of turn of events here on District 15, yes well, District 15 very first volunteer.”

I made it up towards the stage, I’m scared to death right now, my hands won’t stop shaking. My heart is beating really fast like I am having a panic attack, oxygen levels are increasing rapidly as the walls start to close in on me, like I can’t even breathe. I was drowning. “Come on, dear.”

“What’s your name?” She asked, pulling the microphone towards me, “Allison Argent.”

“I bet my hat that was your sister, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” My voice sounded crushed, my life is now in their hands, and that’s the most terrifying thing ever. “Let’s give a big hand to our first volunteer, Allison Argent.” It was only silence until hands with three fingers started to rise up, which means togetherness. A tear flowed down my cheek seeing how strong our district really is. “And, now for the boys.” Effie walks over to the right bowl instantly grabbing a slip of paper for the boys section, she starts unfolding it. Don’t call Josh, please don’t say his name. “Stiles Stilinski.” My eyes instantly lit up remembering that name, the peacekeepers start to bring him up to the stage, “Here we are, our tributes from District 15, well go on you two shake hands.” I look at his golden amber eyes like mine remembering that day where it was the first feeding in months.

[ FLASHBACK }

I was starving so much, there was no food in days; my body was giving up on me slowly, it was raining outside, my back against the tree as I look over at the bakery where Stiles and his mom owned, he comes out about to feed the pigs, until his mother comes out giving him a slap on the face for disobeying her; she leaves as Stiles throws a piece of bread to the pig, then he looks at me, seeing how I was on the verge of dying because of how incredibly hungry I was. He then looks back to make sure his mother doesn’t see, then throws the burned loaf of bread out into the rain.

Then, Stiles and I hands intertwined with eachother as I felt a little spark between us, I brushed it off, I can’t think about my feelings right now; all I can think about is how I’m going to survive this year’s hunger games. “Happy Hunger Games, and may be the odds be ever in your favor.” Then, the peacekeepers took Stiles and I inside of the building, my eyes started to look around seeing everything fastly, until one of the peacekeeper places me into a room, I look back at Stiles until the peacekeeper shuts the door, and I wait for my family. I look out at the window, trying to come up with a way to survive, but every obstacle or possible outcome is to kill people, the other districts, which I can’t be. I can’t be a killer. What would Nicole think of me then. I won’t be the same person I am to her. How am I going to survive this. I start pacing back and forth until I hear footsteps coming towards the door, “You have three minutes,” Nicole instantly hugged me, crying her eyes out. “Ssh, you are going to be okay, I don’t have enough time. Nicole, listen to me, don’t take any extra money for food. That doesn't worth putting your name more times. Nicole, listen to me, Josh will bring you game, he stuck cheese from your goat.”

“Just try to win as best as you can,” Her voice was shaky, as tears went down her cheeks making my heart break into pieces. “Maybe, I can. I am smart you know?”

“You can hunt.”

“Exactly,” It was hard seeing her like this, but I will protect her with my life even if I have to risk my own life, “To protect you.” She hands me the mockingjay pin, I tried to fight back the tears, I can’t be weak. I have to be strong for Nicole. “Thank you.” I tug her into one last hug giving her a kiss on her forehead, I then look over at my mother walking towards her. “You can’t shut off again.”

“I won’t.” As much as I want to believe her, I can’t risk it. She is the only person for Nicole, and when she shut down, it was frustrating yet devastating seeing her like that. “No, you can’t. I won’t be here for her, and no matter what, you have to be there for her, you understand?”

“Don’t cry,” I instantly wrapped my arms around her neck pulling her into a hug since this is the last time we are going to see each other.Tears started to form in my eyes, stop crying Allison; this isn’t you. “Don’t cry, don’t.” My voice sounded like I was going to break, but I just can’t. “It’s time,” The peacekeepers started to pull Nicole away from me, “It’s okay, Nicole.” She wouldn’t let go of my side, “No!” but the Peacekeepers pulled her off of me, “I promise, Nicole.” Then, the door was slammed shut, I slowly walked up to it, giving it a tug to open it then close. I tried to open it again, but it wouldn’t shut until Josh and Kira comes in. They both pull me in for a group hug, I can hear the soft cries from Kira, I pull away from them. “I’m fine,” In reality, I wasn’t. “I know, listen to me; you are stronger than this, you are. Get to a bow.”

“They might not one,” I was so scared, this is actually happening to me. I’ve never thought that this will happen to me, but it is. “It doesn’t matter, Allison. They just want a good show, that’s all they want; if they don’t have one, you make one.” Kira added. “They’re not animals, we are actually talking about actual humans,”

“They are no different, Allison.” How can Josh say that, I can’t do this. I can’t actually kill these human beings, I’m not like this. “There are only 24 of us, only one survives.” I started to shake filled with panic, and fear in my eyes. “It’s going to be you, Alls.” Kira hugged me really quick until the peacekeepers came in; I quickly hugged them both then the peacekeepers finally took them away from me, shutting the door in front of me. Couple of minutes, the peacekeepers takes Stiles and I towards the truck, Effie started to talk to both of us- neither of us weren’t paying attention as my thoughts started to come together on how I’m going to kill these people, and once again; survive. I shouldn’t be thinking about how to kill these people, because I don’t know if I can; my fingers started to shake again. “Allison, are you okay?” Stiles looked over seeing my shaky hands, very concerned, Effie looks over at them as well, “Are you okay, dear?”

“I’m fine,” That’s what my outside is telling you, inside; I am absolutely terrified, and I don’t think I will ever stop being terrified. We got to the tributes train, as the door opens - my eyes were so shocked seeing all of these delicious foods in front of me. I’ve never seen so many delicious foods in front of me before. The three of us all walk in, and my eyes started to scan all around taking everything all at once. This is it.

It’s finally happening.

I’m in the hunger games.

[letsriottogether]

Silence, part 5 (Chernobyl fanfic)

Can also be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19868920/chapters/47678032

Pairing: Valana, Ulana Khomyuk/Valery Legasov Characters: Ulana Khomyuk, Valery Legasov, Boris Scherbina, KGB Charkov, Sasha the Cat Warning: Strong language, explicit scenes

Big thank you for all comments and kudos/likes! My apologies for the wait, This past week and half has been a bit more hectic than I’ve anticipated. ________________________________________ There’s something tickling his face. Valery stirs in his sleep, frowning at the weird sensation. His hand rises to push the tickling thing away, only to realize it’s Sasha doing her morning routine. He grunts and opens his eyes to find a pair of light green ones, staring at him. He smiles for a brief moment, stroking Sasha’s soft fur. The lazy morning sun peaks through the closed curtains. As the cat jumps off of him to the floor, heading to kitchen, Valery lets himself to close his eyes for a few brief moments. Then the meowing begins and he knows that he indeed has to get up. His normal daily routine before he can return to the Kurchatov is quite simple. Get up, go to the bathroom, splash his face with cold water, brush teeth. Change into a pair of sweatpants and a shirt, give Sasha some leftovers from yesterday, go to near grocery shop for some basic food. It felt weird, knowing he’s being watched. The first three days he kept checking his window one or two times per hour, almost unable to go to sleep, his eyes glued to the blue car standing on the street. The KGB agents did not even try to hide at that point. His days are long, and he’s desperate to keep himself occupied. He’s re-reading his old books, going through old notes, picking up the theoretical problems he was solving before the bloody phone rang on 26 April 1986 and he heard Scherbina’s voice for the very first time. He still has two days before he can start working at the Institute. He’s not quite sure what to expect, but one thing is for sure - he’s definitely not going back to his office, most likely he will end up in some ridiculously small shared space with carefully handpicked colleagues who would eavesdrop on him and immediately share anything suspicious with the right people. Damn it, it wouldn’t even have to be suspicious, it would be good enough if it was anything that would help them move up the party ladder.

He’s sure that there are no more exciting projects for him and that he will most likely stay away from all labs and researches until the radiation decides to kill him. Buried deep within paperwork, for nothing, watching over his shoulder endlessly, alone, returning back into an empty apartment every day. Wouldn’t that bullet into his skull be better in the end, more merciful?

His eyes wander around the apartment that still looks the same, but for some reason the colors sound more blunt, faded. Maybe it’s because of the thick cigarette smoke? He knows he should try to quit, but hey, you have to die of something, right? Something other than radiation related disease. He used to be just fine living all alone, but then she waltzed into his life, so damn confident and sure of herself. Thank god to that, thank god she had the guts to fight him and make him see that the tanks are full, horrifying fact complicating everything. Her with those wise eyes, seeing through him. And that was only the beginning. He was a careful man, not letting anyone into his life simply because it didn’t feel comfortable, because books could not hurt you as much as people and also because they would not blame you for coming back home late at night. After the evening at the hotel when be basically offered her his apartment (not to mention almost kissing her), he knew there was no way avoiding this bullet. And with the same confidence there was suddenly the presence of her everywhere. In his home, in his mind, in his soul, nestling into every single atom of his existence. There were so many moments of sacred silence, when he would look at her, study the expression of her face, memorizing her curves, the way her hair framed her beautiful face when he would just want to stop the time, erase the past and rewrite the future. Sometimes it felt like she was the raging fire and he was a bottle of gasoline - a deadly combination. 

When the reading gets too boring and radio too annoying, he walks around his apartment. He tried walking outside, but the KGB agents were too noticeable, not even caring about staying hidden somewhere in the shadows of the big city. Inside the apartment he could at least pretend he was alone. And alone he was. Well, at least he thought so. When checking his mailbox he found small carefully folded piece of paper snuck into a small hole in his mailbox. He looked around, as if expecting to find someone who would give him some sort of explanation, but the hallway was empty. He nonchalantly put the paper into the pocket of his coat and went back home. Maybe it’s just KGB’s way of playing with his mind? To falsely lure him into a trap? That could be definitely possible. He walked the stairs up to his floor, not daring to unfold the message before being safely inside. Sasha happily greeted her human by waltzing around his legs. Over the years he got used to this habit of hers, being extra careful not to stumble over her. He put down the bag with a fresh loaf of bread and some other groceries. Usually he would put everything into its place right away, but now there was something more important.

After hanging his coat onto the hanger, he goes over to the windows facing the street, checking the KGB car. The agent is inside, reading a newspaper. Good.His palms are sweating as he opens the hand written message. “Your friend hasn’t forgotten you. Keep your head down for now. Belarussia is under supervision to improve the outcomes.”

Oh Boris, my dear Borja. Chernobyl might have stolen the peaceful and quiet days of his life, but granted him a friend instead in Boris. Valery just hopes that Boris is careful enough not to end up similar to him, or worse. Especially given to his health. The red blood marks on his handkerchief still frighten Valery, knowing there’s no escape to their fate. He knows Boris could be hardly the one to appear in his apartment building, meaning he has to have someone to do this for him. Of course, if this isn’t a trap. But Valery wants, needs to believe this is real, and the faint connection to the outside world, to the people he loves and cherishes pour some faith and joy to his veins. He re-reads the last sentence again. Ulana. He hopes that this sort of supervision that is mentioned is just Boris. Or did he write it like that on purpose not to scare him? He made it clear to Charkov, doing his best that she nor Boris had nothing to do with his testimony. Or did Charkov want to convince himself personally? He pushed that thought aside, not being able to bear that he wouldn’t be able to protect at least them.

He notices that the door of the car outside that never leaves his street open and a man gets out. He briskly moves to the sink, setting the small paper on fire with his lighter, washing the ashes down the drain with water. In a few minutes there’s a loud banging on his front door. Valery already knows their manners, but still cannot help but jump a little at the loud sound. Sasha jumps down from her spot on the sofa, annoyed and angry at the harsh awakening. She eyes the room curiously, partly hidden behind a ficus.  Valery walks to the hallway, opening the door. The agent doesn’t even bother to clean his shoes on the mat, and bursts inside as if it was his home. He stops at the door to the kitchen, sniffing. “Hope you’re not trying to set yourself on fire, Professor.” the man says, frowning at Valery. He realizes that the smell of burning paper must be lingering in the air and chuckles nervously.  “The cat jumped into my lap when I was lighting a cigarette.” he replies, pointing at the hiding cat.. Only her muzzle is showing, and she starts to hiss at the unwanted guest in her territory. The agent is clearly disgusted with the animal and turns back to Valery.  “Tomorrow at 8 you will pick up your new badge at the reception of Kurchatov. They cannot wait, Proffesor.” he scoffs, looking around the apartment for one last time, before storming out again.

Valery lets out the breath he realizes he has been holding. That could have been interesting. He’s actually looking forward to have a daily job again, silently praying it will help him stay sane. Because already now he’s over his head looking forward to the next message from his companion. He has to get inventive enough to be able to respond to him, maybe even ask some questions? How is Boris doing? Is Ulana ok? Does she miss him as much as he misses her? Has she forgiven him?

That night he has troubles falling asleep, too many scenarios playing over in his mind. He tries walking around the apartment, sorting his notes, his books. His mind is restless. He went for a brisk walk earlier in the evening, suddenly desperate for the fresh air outside, not caring if the whole Kremlin is following right behind him. He was just around the corner of his favourite park when he noticed a lady. late thirties maybe. Quite tall, dark brown hair in soft curls, graceful but confident step. She turned around a man was running up to her to catch up with her. That’s when the air left his lungs, fleeing at the speed of light. He could have sworn he moved back in time, ten years ago to the streets of Minsk, as the woman looked so much like Ulana in one of her earlier pictures he found in her flat. His heart started beating fast, his senses flooded with her scent, the taste of her lips, her laugh ringing in his ear. He started to run after them, realizing how stupid and pathetic he is. Well, so much for staying on the rational and calm side. That’s when he decided it’s high time to go back home.He still cannot shake the memory out of his mind, silently cursing himself that he didn’t secretly steal at least one of her pictures. He wanted to, he truly did, but he just thought there will be more time, that he doesn’t need one, cowardly hiding behind security reasons (because blaming everything at KGB was so easy sometimes).

The need to be near her, to feel her fills his senses as he returns back to the bedroom. He collapses across the mattresses, his back hitting a weird bump. His hand slides there, searching for the source when in the gap in the middle he feels creased fabric. He pulls it out, sitting up. A smile lights up his face. It’s her shirt he stole from her, that got pushed between the mattresses and was forgotten short after. Ulana’s faint scent still lingers on the fabric and he feels like some pathetic teenager, who is hiding from his parents in his room, replaying the memory of his girlfriend, suddenly all tense and aroused. No one ever warned him that this is what his fifties would be looking like. His mind wanders back to the last time she wore that. Well, before she took it off.

Valery’s aparment, Moscow, late 1986 The soapy scent spreads from bathroom to the rest of the apartment. Ulana’s just taken a bath, allowing her sore muscles to relax in the hot water. She forgot her nightgown in her bag in the living room, so she decides to put and old shit she found after drying herself. The mirror is covered in fog due to the humidity in the small room. She takes a bath like this as an unnecessary luxury she would be able to spare herself of, but Valery has been too pushy to drop her practical self and try to enjoy the things they have while they still have them. She wipes the mirror with her palm, staring at her reflection. A small doubtful voice resonates through her head. And for how long are they going to have each other?

She studies the wrinkles on her face, her tired eyes, silver hair shining from her auburn color every now and then. It’s not just age that’s written all over her body, but it’s easier to pretend. At least with herself. But when she looks at him in the bad times, her thoughts fly to all the books and articles about radiation exposure. She finds herself studying him, calming herself no, this is normal, but this, is this already…? She shakes her head, frustrated with herself. Not now, not tonight. When she steps outside and appears in the living room, he’s sitting in his armchair, glasses on the very top of his nose, reading some book. He doesn’t notice her, and she smiles.Her steps are quiet, and almost like a cat she sneaks up to him and suddenly tears the book from his hands. Valery looks up at her with mixture of surprise and outrage. But when his eyes wander over her, his expression changes to a sly smile. She chuckles at him, places the now closed book on the shelf and takes his hand into hers. With the other one she slowly starts to unbutton her shirt. Her smile fades away, she bites down on her lip. She shakes her shoulders to push the fabric down. He lets go of her hand, helping her to get rid of the stupid piece of clothing. For some reason he doesn’t let it fall to the ground, instead he grabs it, taking Ulana by her hand, leading her to the bedroom.  Let’s forget for now who they are. Soon after his finger follows the curve of her spine, touching the soft creamy skin of her back, so soft and warm, so inviting to be caressed and kissed. His lips follow shortly after, placing open mouthed pecks. When reaching her lower back, he decides to change things a bit, using his tongue instead. She shivers in surprise and pleasure, soft moan escapes her lips. He straightens his back, looking down at her. She’s simply beautiful from any possible angle you could think of. And right now, on all four, trembling with anticipation, skin slightly glistening with sweat, her brown hair messy.. That’s simply sight for gods, and right now it belongs to him, she belongs to him and he feels like on top of the world, because this precious woman loves him and trusts him. It’s as simple as that. He strokes her cheek with his palm, sliding down to her thigh and then back up. She parts her legs a bit more, back arching up, silent gesture to urge him where she wants him the most. It’s the sound of his name on her lips, an urgent moan full of passion, and he simply cannot hold himself any longer. His grip on her hips gets tighter as he slams into her in one swift motion. She’s so perfectly wet he could cry. World starts spinning and it’s so tempting just to come in that very moment, her walls clenching around him in sweet pleasure. She grips on the crumpled sheets, eyes closed. All the gossips were right, this was much better than the normal missionary position. She could feel him everywhere, filling her to the top, then leaving her completely, making her feel so empty out of sudden just to slide back into her. Sex sounds fill the silence of the room, how his hips meet hers, skin on skin, their uncoordinated moans and whispers. So this is what good sex feels like? He keeps one of his hands on her hip, following her small motions as she meets him in his thrusts, while the other one wanders up her back to the nape of her neck, tickling her hair. She knows what he wants to do, but maybe is too worried she wouldn’t like it and asking questions in the middle of sex seems just too ridiculous. Instead she just tilts her head backwards in a simple gesture and he just knows it’s a green light from her. Within a second his fingers comb through her hair, before clasping them, tugging gently just to cause a small pleasurable amount of pain. Breath hitches in her throat, as the shockwaves start to flow through her body, she collapses on her arms. He has to adjust himself, bending over her back. His hips move a bit higher and suddenly he’s hitting the perfect spot. Her muscles grip him even tighter and it’s too much for him. She whimpers loudly, not interested if anyone hears them. He swifts his leg, putting it foot down to get better angle, to be able to slam into her even harder and faster as he comes undone. Any barriers that would hold him back are gone, pure animal pleasure taking over him, over them both. That’s all it takes for her, and it takes her a moment to realize it’s her voice that fills the room, shouting his name. His breath is heavy on her back, as he tenses for the last time, filling her to the top. Her hair is sticking to her forehead and cheeks, smell of sex and sweat in the air.  He wraps his arms around her waist, pressing her up to him, still deep inside of her. She finds the last piece of strength in her, as she sits up with him. He lays his forehead against her shoulder for a moment placing soft kiss. She turns her head around a bit to be able to see him and smiles. He looks up at her, his eyes meeting hers, the corners of his mouth up in a grin. Suddenly her arm moves up, bending in the elbow to be able to reach him and caress his hair. None of them speaks, enjoying the intimate silence. It’s their moment where nothing else exists apart the two of them and the bed they are sitting on.

He shifts up a bit, cupping her round breast, thumb encircling her sensitive nipple. He loves finding her favourite spots, burning them deep into his memory alongside with her expression, her eyes rolled back and gently biting on her lip. He decides to continue with his experiment, the other hand sliding down to where they are still joined, mix of her wetness and his seed sliding down both of their thighs. He flicks her clit one or two times, his hips bucking on their own as she clenches aroundt his softening cock. He then lets her go, deciding not to torture her anymore and also painfully realizing that he will need some time to go another round. She understands and just collapses into the covers, exhausted and content.

“Can you imagine what it would be like if we met 20 years ago?” she chuckles and turns her head to face him as he lies down next to her, propped on his elbow. “I think our scientist careers would be in real danger, because I wouldn’t be able to let you out of the bed,” he smiles and tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Then it’s good we’ve met only now. It would be hard to choose between all the good sex and my job.” she jokes, but they both know it’s hint to an actual problem they would have been facing. It’s hard to imagine how the two of them would be able to work out when they were younger. Both too eager and dedicated to their job, making all the sacrifices to keep moving forward. But would you be able to sacrifice a  relationship with someone who is possibly your soulmate to the job you love and that you feel is your vocation and vice versa? She quickly shakes the thought away from her head. “Scherbina says that ever since our visits started to be regular,I don’t seem as grim,” he suddenly blurts out and Ulana gapes at him. He shakes his shoulders apologetically. “What, that’s a good thing.” he grins and she kisses him on the jaw. “Please just tell me that Boris is the only one with whom you talk about this. Not only it would be dangerous, but I wouldn’t be able to talk to Tarakanov or Pikalov again, knowing you’ve been discussing our sex life,” she says, covering her eyes with her palm in desparation.He laughs out loud and starts kissing her, making a path from her belly to her neck.“Nah, they would be jealous and would want me to share,” he mumbles in between and Ulana looks at him, horrified. He laughs again at her expression and finally kisses her on the lips. 

They both get more comfortable on the bed as Valery places a big cover on both of them, making sure Ulana’s back is all covered. He outstretches an arm towards her, she already knows this small habit of his and lifts her head so he could sneak his arm underneath. He needed to keep her close. She needed to be in his arms.They lie in silence, staring at each other. She counts the wrinkles on his face, memorizing them all over again. With every new one she makes a silent prayer before she closes her eyes and falls asleep.

[ut-girl666]

Update; I have gotten through the first one, working one the second of six, and I’ve just been enlightened by the gods of being half awake at four amp and having a can of mtn dew just after waking up at the saintly hour;

Megs is actually just a stray cat. And Dot is the human that found him out back in the garbage trying to find food, and decided to help him. And it’s only so long until he one day comes back bearing the true being encapsulating his trust in Dot.

Like: “hemlo human. you have proven to be trustworthy enough that I am willing to show you the thing, because you seem safe. please do not prove my judgment ill.”

Also now came up with the idea where the ol’ classic G1-themed ‘Invention-Fuck-Up-of-the-Week’ turns Optimus, Elita, and Megs into animals. And Tiger!Megs immediately finds Robby and Mo and loafs on top of them. ‘no little ones. your mother is doing a danger. you are not ready for danger.’ And then when all is said and done, he picks them up by their ‘scruff’ and drags them over to Dot. ‘here are your kittens, human.’ Dot doesn’t know what to say. She’s surprised, for multiple reasons, especially by how oddly fitting it is Megs is a cat. and that he’s returning her ‘kittens’ to her. He’s honestly just a big stray cat/Dot’s pet tiger that we all dream of having (don’t tell me you don’t dream of owning a big cat in a dark forest themed castle with killer good eyeliner - you’re lying; we all do.).

Anyway, yeah, that’s where I’m at. See y’all.

Not me over here with serious Earthspark brainrot on top of everything else, about to quite possibly write one of the fluffiest goddamn shots I may have ever done.

All about Dot and Megs. And how their partnership turned into a friendship, and how it developed with time. Plus Megs just about bearing his soul to her.

Because I like the idea that Megs was slow to reveal some of the things about him that were truly most important to him to Dot, and it all slowly built up into his biggest reveal, as a secret test of trust and friendship.

And that Megs as an AroAce ended up developing a squish for Dot early in their partnership.

Also Optimus is teasing him so so so bad about it. And will go to war with Dot for him- bc that’s what good supportive/protective little brothers do-

“OMG.”

“What?”

“YOU LIKE HER.”

“wha-”

“YOU HAVE SUCH A SQUISH FOR HER.”

“n- no- no I-”

“MEGS IT’S WRITTEN ALL OVER YOU.”

“I-”

“THE LAST TIME YOU HAD A SQUISH IT WAS SOUNDWAVE.”

“…”

“YOU LIIIIKKEE HERRRRRR~”

“shut up-”

so anyway, yeah, I’m gonna slap that out and hopefully get back to Birds of a Feather and my other shot once my brain has the room to think again, and my writers block has been allieved-

[vegasring]

Don’t Die

This one is part of the Tiny, Tiny Moments Series. It’s really part 4 of the story that started with Anyone But You. The chapter before this is smutty and I didn’t post it on Tumblr. But you can read the smut here.

He came to wakefulness at about 5:30 a.m. feeling unusually rested. He had his right arm wrapped around Molly's shoulder, her head nestled just below his collarbone. He never thought much about physical contact and had often derided people's need for it. But now he could be persuaded that there was some merit to it. And it didn't have anything to do with last night's activities, although that was some spectacular show of endurance and willpower on his part if you asked him.

The weight of her sleeping form, her steady breathing against his chest, and the length of her frame pressed against his side gave him a strange sense of stillness. He never thought he'd ever want to linger after sex, but he found himself unwilling to move. Maybe it was the time of day? Or maybe because it was just Molly? She was a safe zone, after all.

(His last sexual encounter long, long ago in a posh hotel room in Islamabad was a dare that had to be accepted. He instantly regretted it though and fled before any more propositions or nefarious deals were exchanged.)

Whatever this was, it brought him clarity. He stayed there unmoved, in bed with Molly Hooper and her hair, breathing her in and found the courage to do what he knew he needed to do from a place of lo-… light, instead of his overwhelming sense of self-loathing. He knew he had to go to hell. Mary just gave him very specific instructions on how to do it, even though he didn't need it. To "go to hell", Sherlock just needed to follow his basest of instincts. Before last night, he was ready to make that fatal leap to go all out, so to speak.

Things shifted somehow in the early light of day. He couldn't jump into hell now, at least not without knowing there was that proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. This job wasn't about him after all. He needed to save John Watson first and foremost, not kill Sherlock Holmes.

With this epiphany, he carefully extricated himself off her to shower and get to work on his game plan.

It was almost seven in the morning when Molly woke up to find herself alone in bed. Not that she was expecting them to be waking up spooned together like little baby cats. That could have been awkward, actually. She knew Sherlock well enough, and he wasn't a touchy-feely guy. Last night was quite surprising and nothing short of miraculous. But then again, even the great Sherlock Holmes was prone to clichés. He did hook up with the bridesmaid after a wedding. Why wouldn't he hook up with the co-godparent after a funeral?

Molly lumbered her way towards the kitchen on wobbly legs and almost tripped when she found the consulting detective at the breakfast bar with his laptop open and a coffee mug in his hand.

"Good morning," she croaked, half pleased he was still there and half mortified her bed head was in full display while he was already, as usual, impeccably dressed.

"Uhm," he grunted in response, acknowledging her with just a quick glance up from the top of his mug and the computer screen. He then put the mug down and walked towards the oven where he retrieved a plate of toast and scrambled eggs. He set the plate down in front of her then poured her a cup of coffee, mixing in milk and two sugars just as she liked it. This is how I should start my day every day, she thought as her eyes did a quick scan of the Adonis before her. She had to pinch herself to make sure this was not a dream.

"Ow! I mean, Wow," she skillfully corrected, as he handed her some silverware. "I must've done something right. That, or I died and went to heaven," she joked as she took a bite of her toast. "Service in this house has never been better."

Sherlock did not answer that. He was just staring intently at the computer screen, trying to formulate how he was going to ask her a favor.

"A new case then?" He finally faced her with his head tilted in confusion.

"You must be working on a new case," she continued, as one does when met with awkward silence. "You haven't eaten and you're drinking coffee. You don't eat, and you only drink coffee when you're working a case." His eyebrows raised, as if impressed.

"I, too, can make observations, Sherlock. You're not as mysterious as you make yourself out to be. So, what is it?"

Having found his opening, Sherlock said, "It is a case. A 10. Probably my most important and dangerous to date." He sucked in a breath loudly before he added, "I need a favor from you."

A slow smile formed on her lips as she swallowed her coffee and set the mug down. "Ah, and there it is," she said. Sherlock looked absolutely perplexed. Clearly, Molly had to explain herself because his brain wasn't functioning on all cylinders this morning.

"Well, you know. Dinner, breakfast….sex," she said that last bit flippantly, as if it didn't matter to her. "It all makes sense now." He looked horrified. "It's okay Sherlock. Don't look so shocked. I'm on to you," she said, winking to let him know she was joking, that she doesn't take it personally. "You always butter me up when you want something from me. No use denying it now. I know it's a big ask."

He didn't know why he felt insulted by this when it would be far more convenient if it were the truth. He was about to object to her assertions when he realized that his intentions last night, and all those times he had 'buttered her up' had been sincere. He had not been bringing coffee to the morgue solely to gain access to body parts. And he hadn't been buying her dinner because he kept her late at the lab. He just made it always seem that way. Up until this moment, he had convinced himself that he needed to keep Molly Hooper happy to continue his unfettered access to the lab and body parts.

The inconvenient truth was that he had a better laboratory to use at the Met's and no real need for body parts to play with. Why he continued to go to her was something he didn't want to think about. Right now, he had a goal – to save John Watson – and whatever he was feeling had no bearing on anything. He had to focus.

And so, he acknowledged her deduction at face value.

"You're right. It is quite a big favor." He looked almost sorry he needed to ask it.

"What is it then? What do you need?" Over four years ago, she asked that very same question. She had been so very afraid for him then. This time was no different.

"I need you to trust me."

Molly nodded and braced herself for what was coming. But that was all he said.

"Okay Sherlock. I trust you. What do you need?" She asked again. Molly searched his eyes for clues for what he wanted. But Sherlock's face wasn't giving any hints.

"I just need you to promise me that you will trust me, no matter what. Even when every bone in your body, and all other evidence is telling you otherwise." His intense gaze pleaded her to understand. But she wasn't getting it.

"I do trust you, Sherlock. You don't need to ask that of me."

"But I do. For this case, I do. I will have to do things you wouldn't want me to do. But…" he let out a huff to prevent himself from crying out and letting her save him from himself.

"Just trust that I know what I'm doing," he swallowed hard to control the fear that was bubbling up from his belly, "and see me through this."

Molly was moved by the sincerity of his request. It was a simple ask as far as she was concerned. Of course, she trusts him. Of course, she will see him through. She will always be there for him. Always.

Unless…

And that's when the gravity of the favor hit her with full force. She finally understood what he was saying. This was no ordinary case, whatever it was. He was going to visit his demons as she watched from the front row.

"No," she said, taking a step back. "No, I can't do that," she said more forcefully, shutting her eyes and walking away. Her head felt heavy and that Meat Loaf song blasted in her ears. I will do anything for love, but I won't do that, it said over and over. She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of her life being reduced to a 1990's epic rock song but the loud pounding of the imaginary piano was too disorienting.

Sherlock sprinted around the bar and grabbed her shoulders. He spun her around and hugged her tightly, rocking her like he did the night before.

"Please Molly. Please," he begged. "I have to do this. I have to do this, even without you. But I'd much rather not. I've lost so many friends already. I can't lose you, too."

How could she say no to him when he was like this? She understood his desperation perhaps more than he did. She was hopelessly in love with him, the Sherlock Holmes who thoughtlessly threw himself at death's door, after all. She knows what it's like to fear losing someone you care for.

So how can she deny him? She will always be there for him anyway. Always. But will he be there for her? Shouldn't she demand something in return? Why not. It was only fair.

"Ok," she said finally, coming to terms with her decision. "I promise to trust you and be there for you all the way. Anytime. But you have to promise me one thing. Just one easy thing."

Pulling out of their embrace, Sherlock held her face and wiped the tears from her eyes.

"What is it?"

"Don't die."

Author's Note. It bothered me so much that Sherlock was so rude to Molly during The Lying Detective, and that Molly just took it. She clearly wasn't happy with him. But I wanted her to scream and slap some sense into him for what he was doing to himself. And then she turns around and easily forgives him and takes the night shift. So I thought, well, maybe she had an idea that something was up and that he made her promise to trust him? And for Sherlock, for someone as self-destructive as he is, when he said "I don't want to die," it felt blasé at first, until he truly realized he did not want to die. Maybe he realized what his promise to not die really meant?

[kayliemusing]

27: cottagecore

🌿 Herb: What is a scent you find relaxing? - Lilac, vanilla, jasmine

🌱 Seedling: What is something you want to begin learning? - I think linguistics or the origins of words. I find that really interesting. On a more personal note, I want to learn how to give up control and lean into my calling/my passions without fearing not being good enough or being afraid to fail.

🥛 Milk: What is a food you find comforting when you are sad? - French fries from McDonalds or Hot Chocolate (even though that's a beverage haha. But Hot Chocolate is my go-to when I'm sad or lonely.)

🍯 Honey: What is one thing you like about yourself? - I think I love how I'm intrinsically kind. Like I don't force kindness or have to remind myself to be kind, it's just who I am.

🍄 Mushroom: What is a quote you find comfort in? - I find most Bible verses really comforting and right now I'm taking a lot of comfort in the verse, "Why would I fear the future ? For your goodness and love pursue me all the days of my life." Psalm 23:6 (Passion Translation)

☕ Tea: How do you take your tea? - I don't drink tea, but if I did, I imagine I would drink it really sweet.

🐄 Cow: What is one other tumblr blog you really appreciate? - I really like a blog called heartcountry because they post lots of great quotes and literature-related things, which I always find sets my heart on fire.

🌳 Tree: What is one thing in your future you are looking foward towards? - I feel like I'm looking most towards the day when I figure it out. When things start falling into place one by one and I don't stress about it anymore.

🍑 Peach: What is a color that makes you smile? - I've always found the colour yellow really happy.

🌻 Sunflower: What is one thing that brightened your day today? - I saw a video of a duck zooming through a lake lol

🐓 Chicken: What is a comfort movie/show for you? - Literally any Disney/Pixar animation. To name a few, Onward, Coco, Toy Story movies, Tangled, Soul, Brother Bear, etc.

🧵 Thread: What is a recent creative project that you are proud of? - I'm in the middle of writing a little narrative essay that I'm finding really therapeutic. I started it last night and I'm just in the process of seeing where it goes, because I didn't really outline it, I'm just taking an idea and running with it for now.

🐈 Cat: Do you have any pets? Are there some pets you really want? - I have two cats right now, but I would love to have a turtle and a Samoyed.

🍅 Tomato: Have you ever gardened, and if so, what is your favorite thing to grow? - I haven't gardened before but my mom I are planning on gardening this summer! We're hoping to grow tomatoes, peas, and carrots.

🍃 Leaf: What is a plant you find beautiful? - Palm trees, vines, as well as ivy and of course flowers such as sunflowers and rose bushes.

🐝 Bee: What is a video game that you find comforting? - Detroit Become Human is one of my all-time favourite games, because I love the story telling and I just get really lost in it when I play. But I find Animal Crossing a really cute and comforting game when you want something that's really simple.

🍞 Bread: Do you know how to bake bread? If so, what is something you’ve baked recently? - I've never baked bread actually, but I would really like to make a lemon loaf sometime. (if that counts.)

🐇 Bunny: What’s a song that you really like? - There's so many. I think my favourite song of the year (since 2020 tbh) is Exile by Taylor Swift feat Bon Iver, and I think it might actually be in my top 5 favourite songs of all time.

🌲 Pine: Do you prefer the cold, or the heat? - I kind of like the in-between, but I prefer cooler temperatures because then you can stay in your house and get cozy with blankets, candles, baking, and hot chocolate.

🧶 Yarn: Knitting or Crocheting? - Crocheting which is something I want to learn.

🐑 Sheep: What is a comfort item you own? - Black sweatpants, but also my Folklore cardigan.

🍓 Strawberry: Do you own any pink clothing? - Yes, a few.

🥞 Pancake: What is your favorite breakfast food? - French toast, I think or crepes.

⛰️ Mountains: Would you rather live in the mountains, city, beach, or the forest? - Either the city or a forest, or alternatively, I would love to live where there's a wide open field that gets misty in the morning.

🧸 Teddy Bear: Do you ever want to raise kids someday? - Maybe. I can see myself with two or three kids, but who knows.

🕯️ Candle: What is something you can’t go to bed without? - My phone so that I can read until I'm sleepy.

[mywhataguy-a]

A Gift Fic for You!

Alphabet Blocks (Belle, Maurice, and the Little Village Girl)

SUBMITTED BY @paulettetheprettytriplet

“Papa, could you spare a few pieces of scrap wood?” Belle asked her father.

“I don’t suppose you plan to build something for a surprise for your Papa, do you?” Maurice replied, looking up from his workshop table.

“I cannot tell you what I plan to give you for Christmas, or else I will ruin the surprise,” Belle told him with a smile on her lips. She had chosen Papa’s gift already; a new set of carving knives from M. Norbert, the merchant who sold cutlery at the marketplace.

“I would actually like to make something homemade for someone else, Papa.”

“Is that so?” Maurice asked. “I am glad to assist, my Belle. Help yourself to all the scrap wood you would like.”

Belle gathered some of pieces of wood and sat at the workshop table next to her Papa, cutting into the pieces with a small saw. She soon created several little blocks. Maurice saw her frustrated expression as she was trying to make every block uniform, and the same size.

“I can help you with that, my dear.”

“Merci, Papa. I want to make twenty-six of them.” Maurice used his own whittling knife and saw and helped her cut the blocks to uniform sizes.

“What are these going to be?” Maurice looked at her in curiosity.

“Alphabet blocks,” said Belle. “For Gabrielle. I drew her name in the church’s secret Christmas exchange. She’s the little girl who wanted to learn to read. I thought I could make them for her to spell words. She could also share them with her little sister. When they are cut, I’d like to paint letters on each side of all of them.”

“Wonderful idea, my Belle. And so reminiscent of your mother! She also loved to paint things and give them to children, while we were courting. It was then that I knew that I wanted her to be the mother of my future child.”

“Really?” Belle’s eyes went wide. She treasured each and every little anecdote about her Maman that Maurice was willing to share. For some years he spoke little of her, but lately, he was much more likely to open up about those memories.

“What kinds of things would she paint?”

“Cats,” Maurice replied. “When we married, I got her a kitten she named Celie. A little calico. She loved to sketch her with her pencil whenever she had the chance. She often did it in the front staircase of our old home in Paris, and children would watch her draw. So she’d gladly paint some of the portraits of Celie, and give them away.”

“Whatever happened to Celie?”

“One day she ran away and never came back. Your Maman was devastated. It was around the time she was expecting you,” Maurice said sadly.

Belle was quiet for awhile, thinking about yet another aspect of her mother’s life, the mother she had never had the joy of knowing. For the next few hours, Belle sanded the alphabet blocks and painted letters on them with bright colored paint.

…

The next morning was the twenty fourth of December, Christmas Eve Day. Belle had taken the blocks she had made and put them in a wicker basket tied with a red ribbon. She put on her new blue and red Christmas dress and red shawl, and decided to take her little gift directly to Gabrielle’s parents’ home.

It was a lovely, sunny midwinter day in Villeneuve. The streets were a little slippery from slushy snow, and as wagons and carts rolled by, their wheels threw drops of melting slush that people darted to avoid. Belle stopped to listen as a group of carolers sang near the fountain in the town square. Among the little group of carolers was Pere Robert, the clergyman and the kindest man Belle knew in the village. He sang in a rich baritone, his voice leading the others.

Also in the choir were Jean Potts the potter, Madame Bordeaux the tavern keeper’s wife, Madame Rubans the ribbon seller, Tom the blacksmith, and the bow-tied younger fellow- LaRue? Lemeiux? Belle didn’t remember his name, but she knew him to be Gaston Legume’s constant companion. She glanced around quickly and saw that Gaston was nowhere to be found. She breathed a sigh of relief, enjoying the lovely display of vocal music. Besides Pere Robert’s deep voice, Madame Rubans had the loveliest soprano, and Gaston’s friend’s bright tenor hit the same high notes as the ladies’ voices.

After listening to two songs, Belle took a few tiny coins from the pocket of her dress and placed it into the money basket, sitting in the snow beside Pere Robert.

“Merci, Mademoiselle! Joyeux Noel, and God bless you!” Pere Robert said with a wide smile.

“Joyeux Noel to all of you!” Belle replied. The carolers took a break from singing. As Belle walked away, she heard one of the men, Tom the blacksmith, say to one of the others, “Surprised she ain’t running around with ‘er nose in a book today.”

“I declare! She’s beyond odd!” a lady said in a conspiratorial whisper.

Belle quickened her steps and walked away briskly, swinging her basket bearing Gabrielle’s Christmas gift. She was not going to let people’s narrow-minded criticisms get her down.

She found the Valois family’s cottage quickly, a small two story. The Valois’ lived in the bottom floor, and their door was decorated with one of the red ribbons that Madame Rubans had been selling. Since the gift exchange was secret, Belle decided to give a quick knock on the door, set the basket on the step, and dart away. She joined the crowd of busy villagers, standing near the baker’s stand.

She watched as Madame Valois opened the door, with Gabrielle behind her. They gathered the basket and closed the door.

Belle felt a warm feeling in her heart, a swell of Christmas cheer as she walked back home.

“Hello Papa!” she greeted Maurice, still busy carving a music box at his work table.

“Just in time, ma petit- I finally got the notes to work! Listen!” Maurice turned the crank and played the melody. The newest music box played Bring a Torch, Jeanette Isabella. It featured a tiny figure of a girl ice skating.

“It’s wonderful, Papa! Who are you going to give it to?”

“I don’t know, my Belle. I had planned to sell it, but if it doesn’t sell here in Villeneuve, perhaps it will be yours,” said Maurice. “And by the way, there is something- or someone- else who just arrived a few minutes ago. Look in your room upstairs.” He grinned.

“Someone? Please don’t let it be Monsieur Gaston Legume,” Belle replied, making a face of dread.

“I assure you it isn’t,” said Maurice. “Someone much smaller.”

Belle rushed upstairs to her bedroom. She heard a tiny little 'meow’ sound, and her heart leaped with joy.

“A kitten?”

The little grey cat rushed to Belle’s ankles, rubbing against her feet. Belle picked it up. “Hello, there!” she greeted. Someone had brought the kitten to Belle to be her gift for the exchange. She wondered who it could have been, and recalled that Pere Robert had a grey female cat in the chapel, and had looked to be expecting a litter. It could have been him, but she knew that the giver had to be kept a secret.

Belle took the soft kitten in her arms and went downstairs to Maurice. “I wish I could thank the person who brought me this kitten! Now, is it a boy…or a girl?” she wondered aloud.

“I don’t know,” said Maurice. “Perhaps just give your new pet a name suitable for both genders.”

“It’s light grey,” said Belle. “Perhaps I could call it 'Fumée.’ It is a smoky color.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Maurice with a smile. “Now, I think I’ll be done with my work for the day. How about we cook up that goose and potatoes together?”

“Sounds wonderful, Papa!” exclaimed Belle. “You and I will have the coziest Christmas Eve, just you and me. I purchased a nice loaf of bread when I was out. And a few chocolates!”

“Merci, Belle. We will indeed have the best Christmas Eve!” Maurice gathered his daughter, still holding her new kitten, in his arms and hugged her.

…

[ramrodd]

Is the Christian Bible correct?

Quora Moderation has censored this commentary for offending their IT sensibilities and questioning their collective omniscence

COMMENTARY:

Additional Dialogue with Ross Whittle

Nope. There is nothing about the bible that is correct. It is a collection of ancient myths. Some people, such as yourself, are desperate to cling to faith, and thus take outrageous leaps to overlook this and find some truth- in your case “perceptive doctrine’. from this, It seems you take something you believe is good- capitalisms- and then interpret something ELSE you like- the bible- to reflect that. The fact the Jesus teachings are far more socialist than capitolist is irrelevant to you. You will see things as you wish them to be.

When confronted with this, you will retreat to another typical Theist trope- you will ignore answers that contradict you, and simply re-ask the question as if it has not been asked.

I’ve outlined a few of the multitude of instances where the bible reflects huge immorality. You simply display a total LACK of morality, so I understand you cannot comprehend this. Perhaps if it had been YOUR family killed in a religiously inspired massacre, you might feel differently.

I don’t agree there IS a “perspective doctrine” as you outlined- it seems a complete distortion of what little in the bible might be redeemable- it, for instance, in no way reflects “do unto others.

You are example of someone who can be completely without morals while claiming morality, so you are a living embodiment of my claim.

Tom Wilson: Well, unlike you and Dick Harfield, I’m not making any moral claims for myself: I’m not in a position to judge. Nor do I claim to be a person of faith: I know The One and have had a working relationship with the Holy Spirit since 1954.

Knowledge and faith are not the same same thing.

You haven’t confronted me with anything novel nor enlightening. As I have said from the get-go, I get the gist of your complaint, which you have just recapitulated on the basis that you expect to be able to beat me into submission with your puny dialectic, and I’m bored with it.

The Bible is divine literature. It’s complexity is infinite and, like the Lotus, blossoms eternallly to the humble pilgrim, but is manifestly unavailable to those who refuse to submit to its pulse.

As far as holocaust, I know what that is. I’m an Army brat. I lived in Europe as a child at a time in Germany just past the moment when a loaf of bread could get you a blowjob in Berlin. I’ve been to Hitler’s bunker in East Berlin when the godless commie cocksuckers were in charge and I’ve been to their magnicent cemetary for the Soviet cucumbers who died taking Berlin. It’s a vast park, like something out of the English estates of Downton Abbey, only emphasizing the the horizon with a huge sculture of Yaweh, Queen of Battle rising from a small hill that rises above the tree line. The Soviets call her “Rodino” or “Mother Russia” but she is the feminine aspect of The One described in Revelation 4.2. It’s one of the secrets of the Torah, the actual ontology of God abiding in the narrative.

The cemetary had a long, broad Paris-style side walk up to the sculpture and on the right were 10 or 12 mass graves that held 10,000 soviet soldiers as I remember. I’ve been to Verdun where one of the memorials is a marble shelter 25 - 30 metres long that keeps the elements from a row of rifles with bayonets sticking out of the ground, waiting for the signal to go over the top and unto the attack when the trench collapsed on the soldiers who were issued those rifles. “To Keep and To Bear” means something to me so outside your prissy little League of Nations existence that it may as well be a Sanskrit quotation at the beginning of a T. S. Eliot play about cats.

“Pearls before swine” comes to mind with every sentence of every one of your responses. If I wasn’t satisfied with writing for my own amusement, I wouldn’t waste my time in your useless attempts at resembling critical thinking and dialectical competence.

The fact that you are appalled at the slaughter in the bible means that you accept the historicity of the Bible and, consequently, the existence of The One. I was raised to matriculate at the US Army Command and General Staff College in the fullness of time, beginning in 1952. Since then, I’ve been to Verdun and Vietnam. If I had stayed in the Army and retired as a general, I would have caused 100,000 casualties learning my trade. Killing is an essential element of the Clauswitz Paradox.

Jesus. of the Gospel of Mark, provides the Christian model for the sworn servant leader of the American republic and Cornelius, the centurion featured in Acts X, provides the Roman model for the sworn servant leader of the American republic.

The centurion is not a myth. S/he represents a profound military innovation that became an essential element of the trajectory of the Roman empire for 500 years. The difference between Real Warfare and True Warfare is the difference between the Samurai and the Centurion. The Samurai is. literally, a creature of the mythos while the Centurion is a creature of the rule of law.

I was raised by centurions to be a centurion. It was a conscious aspiration of mine as a vision quest from 1962 until I got to Vietnam in 1970.

I was confirmed as a Christian in the Chapel of the Centurion at about the same time, 1962 or so, but I already had a working relationship with the Holy Spirit before that moment. I literally saw myself preparing to go forth as a knight in the white armor of the Crusade marching as to war. As I say, I have knowledge of the one, and, at the same time, I developed a deep faith in the training I was getting as a soldier from ROTC until Jungle Training in Panama before.

In Vietnam, I was confronted by an existential dilemma that required me to make a choice between continuing to believe in myself or in the US Army. It was a no brainer. I lost faith in myself. I still knew Jesus and the Holy Spirit, but not in my own moral compass. So, I left the Army.

So, all your representations of moral superiority are totally wasted on me, no matter how secure you may feel in Bart Ehrman’s apostasy. My opinion is that his whole “Born Again” conceit was phony from the get-go: he just did it high school because all the popular girls were doing it and he wants to be popular. And he built a career as an Evangelical pastor flogging the Pro-Life heresy until he went to Princeton and met Dale Martin, a gay Christian professor who flirts with apostasy because it makes his New Testament History and Literature course at Yale popular and Bart realized he could be even more popular at Chapel Hill by going full apostate and it’s working as well as Jared Kushner’s crypto-Nazi business plan he acquired from Robert Murdoch.

And you’re just another mongrel baying in that ant-theist evangelical imperative. I’m not writing for you. I am witnessing for combat veterans totally mystified by what they have discovered about the American civilian culture since they left the spiritually cloistered cacoon of the infantry squad. They are coming from an ecology where the violence of the Bible was part of their job description to an environment dominated by people like you and the IT folks in Quora Moderation whose entire concept of the violence in the Bible is circumscribed by the boundaries of video games defined by the League of Justice and Gal Gadot.

The Book of Job, the oldest book in the Bible, establishes the reality that you cannot unknow God once you have encounted God. That’s why my opinion is that Bart Ehrman is a phony: he either never has encountered God in his “Born Again” mode or did and has found it profitable to deny God.

Free Will isn’t just a theological construct: it is structural to the human psyche. God cannot violate individual sovereignty, morally (that is, intellectually): the individual must voluntarily expand his or her boundaries beyond the personal wisdom, which is to say, beyond the finite horizon of trust into the mind of God.

The whole purpose of the Bible is enlarge the population of humanity which has exercised their personal Free Will to come to know The One. The only unforgivable sin is to deny the Holy Spirit because it is a sin against the self, a form of suicide, to not embrace the personal responsiblility for their own Free Will and project their intellectual boundaries beyond the box of needless ignorance and frightened atheism.

I first read Marx in 1962, when I was 15, on the basis that it is essential to understand your enemy. As a prospective career Army officer like Alexander Vindman, the Soviets were my enemy and I read Marx to learn how to strike to kill the enemy, like the mongoose studies the cobra. So, when someone like you is determined to display his ignorance of the economics of the Bible as a dialectical gambit, it’s usually not worth the effort to help you lift the burden of your ignorance. I mean, the only difference between a Bernie Sanders groupie and a MAGA hat forever Trumper is the object of their affections.

Marxism is based on the same fallacy as the 18th Amendment. Our entire strategy in Vietnam was based on this fatal flaw in the Soviet system. Because of Vietnam, the Soviet Union no longer exists.

However, it is important to understand that Vietnam came down to a contest between Marxism and the Harvard Business Model and Marxism won precisely because people like Robert MacNamara agreed with your economic model.

Currently, Donald John Trump* is running America the way Robert MacNamara ran Vietnam. Strictly speaking, there is no one in the Old Testament like Donald John Trump*. King David comes close, but all those oriental despots were the law: Donald John Trump* just operates above the law, the basis of his lie, cheat and steal “Art of the Deal” crime family business model. He is trying hard to become the law, like an oriental despot, or Stalin. with the help of Moscow Mitch and Bill Barr, but he, Donald John Trump*, isn’t an oriental despot of the Old Testament.

He is more like Nero in the context of the New Testament. Cornelius, the centurion featured in Acts X, was part of the Xth Legion stationed in Caesarea that participated in the investment and reduction of Jerusalem anticipated by Revelation. Our annual calendar is based on this existentially certain moment which anchors events around 70 because the number is numerologically significant figure of speech in the literature of the BIble. According to Richard Carrier. the dates on all your checks are based on mytholog, because the year 70 wouldn’t exist if the Cross hadn’t happened in 33 and the Cross in 33 wouldn’t have become a pivotal moment in history if the Romans had not been witness to the moment of Resurrection. The Gospel According to Mark is a military report from the front in Palestine to the Emperor in Rome, via Theophilus in the Preaetorian Guard, based on contemporary intelligence records and the debriefing of Peter from inside the Jesus insurgency, aka “the Christians”, Roman soldier slang for the Jewish cult that emerged from the Resurrection.

It isn’t so much that your dialectic produces a puny argument: it’s that your anti-theism requires a willing suspension of disbelief Job was totally incapable of attaining and, if Job, who was Righteousness, itself, couldn’t do it, who am I to attempt the same self-delusion.

I make no claims of morality. The purpose of the Bible is epistemological and the purpose of epistemology is moral clarity.

I’ll settle for that.

*(impeached)