#i always love to hear what passages stick to you

[eesirachs]

Hi Sam! I think my favorite declaration about God is said by Rahab in Joshua 2:11 “& as soon as we heard it, our hearts melted, & there was no spirit left in any man because of you, for the LORD your God, He is God in the heavens above & on the earth beneath.” 

I love those differentiations of all the different peoples belief & that they are all combined into her own statement. So similarly personal like Ruth’s more known declaration in but so not in the those bounds of individual approach to the substance of God. I was wondering if you knew anything about it or what the original text has to tell me as I am not nearly as well versed in Hebrew as you are. All good if not, I just love the old testament & your thoughts, if you have any share. 🤍 

all of rahab serves as a particular site of meaning as the israelites enter canaan—but her body is especially meaningful. not because of any libidinal economy, not because she is a זָנָה (a fraught word, a prostitute), but because she lets her flesh host all of that spirit that evacuates the other bodies of jericho.

the hebrew bible’s faith system isn’t monotheism or polytheism, but something more like henotheism. it maintains hashem’s power over and against other gods, gods that were as real as he. rahab’s embodied faith tells us this: here, in josh 2:11, she says ה֤וּא אֱלֹהִים֙ בַּשָּׁמַ֣יִם—yhwh, your god, is the god—of the heavens and of the earth. you’re right that she uses difference as a rubric of hashem’s power. hashem is not the only god: that’s why she has to name him as ‘your god,’ to clarify that she means him and not another. and yet he’s the only god that matters, the only one who occupies topography, he moves into bodies, moves into her body. the hebrew is at such great pains to express all of this. here, in and for rahab, faith is unruly and messy. it’s not uniform, it takes a language that stutters to make sense of itself. it fits ill on some bodies. maybe this is why those on the margins, those already slinking into difference, pick up on it easiest. rahab knows that there are other gods, other domains of the divine, other bodies more resistant than hers. yet she knows, more than that, that this god, and his spaces, and her body—these are the real sites of faith. that’s why she walks away from jericho when many, many others don’t

[nahoney22]

Hello, me again!

Can I please get 20 from your Enemies to Loves list with Fives?

Foes to Friends 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Fives X Female Reader

word count: 1k

prompt:

"I think we're friends now," / "Dank Farrik, don't say that,"

You thought war was stressful but it appeared to be nothing compared to your rivalry with the Arc Trooper that is Fives. But, how do you feel when he saves your life without thinking of the consequences?

warnings: Mentions of War, Near Death Experience, Platonic Relationship, Enemies to Friends, Female Reader but could be read as GN, Fives gets injured, Separatist’s Enemies.

sorry for the wait! Hope you enjoy @sleepycreativewriter 🩵

The blaster fire illuminated the darkened corridor of the starship, casting flickering shadows on the cold, metallic walls. Fives and yourself, both hunched behind a crate, exchanging a quick, tense glance.

For as long as you had known him, the two of you had always butted heads. Supposedly it was down to both of your stubbornness and fierce determination that caused endless clashes during missions and today was no different.

After getting separated from Rex and the rest of the squadron, it was just you and Fives stranded together and things were getting hairy.

"Stick to the plan," Fives muttered, his eyes scanning the hallway for movement.

"I am sticking to the plan," You retorted , peering over the edge of the crate. "If you have a better idea, I'm all ears."

Fives shot you a look that said he doubted your abilities, but he said nothing more. Both of you knew that now was not the time for arguments. The Separatists had taken control of the ship, and it was detrimental that you both needed to get to the control room to shut down their systems.

Moving swiftly, your blasters cut through the droids that stood in the way. As you reached a narrow passage, the floor began to shake violently. Your heart began to race as the shaking was then followed by an explosion which echoed through the ship, and suddenly, the ceiling began to collapse.

It happened quickly but without thinking, Fives grabbed at your arm and pulled you out of harm's way, saving you from being crushed into a pancake.

You pant, shaking your hands as nerves and exhilaration flow through you at your close call. "Thanks," you mumble begrudgingly, not exactly used to showing gratitude towards him.

"Just doing my job," Fives replied, though there was a hint of something softer in his tone. It made you pause and think for a moment, watching him but focused back on the task ahead.

Continuing your advance, the tension between you both felt to be easing. Even if it’s only slightly. He had your back covered and you had his

But things went from bad to worse as you both approached the control room where you fell into an ambush of separatist droids. “We’re out numbered, Fives!” You cry out, shooting and dodging at every chance you get, exhaustion getting the better of you. Just when you thought one wave was down, you were drowned by another and another and another.

"Get to the control room!" Fives shouted over the blaster fire. "I'll hold them off!"

"Are you insane? You'll get killed!" You yelled back, heart pounding. No way you were going to let him do this.

"Just go!" he insisted, physically pushing you towards the door. You meet his gaze, wide and horrified whilst his eyes, usually so full of defiance, now held a desperate determination.

You hesitated for a moment, not wanting him to face the droids alone but then remembered you had to consider everyone else on the ship too. “Fives…”

“What are you waiting for? Go! Leave me!”

A wave of emotions hit you and knowing you had to do this, you turned and sprinted towards the control room. Entering, you curse to yourself as all you could hear and somehow focus on was Fives' blaster firing rapidly behind you. But you had to focus.

Quickly, you began shutting down the systems, fingers flying over the controls like you had done hundreds of times in training. Your mind is running wild and just as you finished, a blaster bolt whizzed past your head. You spin around, ready to meet your fate as you hadn’t even had time to react quick enough to grab your blaster. Heart stopping and your eyes closing waiting for the inevitable and you can only wish you had done all you could for the others but before you could even process anything, Fives was there.

His blaster takes out the droid in a single shot before he leans on the doorframe in agony. He was bleeding and looked exhausted, but he had made it.

You had never been so happy to see him. You rush to his side, looking over his injuries. “Crap, you’re pretty beaten up there.” You sigh and he can only mumble a response which sounded a lot like ‘no shit’ which you couldn’t help but chuckle at.

"You didn't have to come back for me," you say softly, voice barely above a whisper. You didn’t understand it but your throat tightened with emotion.

He meets your gaze, "Couldn't let you have all the glory," he replied with a weak smile. "Besides, someone has to keep you out of trouble."

You rolled your eyes, how very typical of Fives.

Letting him drape an arm over your shoulder, you helped him up and together made your way back to the escape pods after getting the all clear from Rex.

Fives however was clearly struggling, every step he took made him wince. The sight of his pain made your chest ache with a new, unsettling feeling. You came to the realisation with a pang that you cared for him. He had saved your life twice and in all the times you had bickered, you had not recognised how much you valued him until you almost lost him.

As you sat in the cramped pod, waiting for the ship to be out of range, you looked at Fives, seeing him in a new light. The lines of tension around his eyes, the stubborn set of his jaw, all seemed painfully familiar now… it was like looking into a mirror. How could you not see that you both argued because you were both so similar?

"I think we're friends now," you say quietly, trying to lighten the silence.

"Dank Farrik, don't say that," Fives groaned, though there was no malice in his words, only exhaustion and you even saw the flicker of a smile on his lips.

You giggled softly, leaning back and closing your eyes. "Admit it, you care about me."

"Maybe," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "Just because we're similar doesn't mean we can't be allies."

“Friends, Fives.” You reiterate, “We’re friends.”

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[purpledemonlilyposting]

Okay it's time for me to go a bit crouching retard hidden genius here, take off the clown nose and put my thinking cap on. Cause unlike many, many people who reference Nineteen Eighty-Four I've actually read it. Several times. And not as a school mandate.

What does "He loved Big Brother" tell you about media literacy?

Like what even is that point, Lorch? What does just knowing the final sentence of the book tell you about someone's media literacy? What do YOU even think that line means? Cause I'd love to hear it and I doubt you've ever actually read the fucking book.

There are many take-aways you can have from Nineteen Eighty-Four regarding the control of the populace through deception, fear, propaganda, regulation, indoctrination of the young, the dumbing down of language, and sheer hypocrisy. I'd be more interested in someone's take on passages like this to gauge their media literacy:

'It's a beautiful thing, the destruction of words. Of course the great wastage is in the verbs and adjectives, but there are hundreds of nouns that can be got rid of as well. It isn't only the synonyms; there are also the antonyms. After all, what justification is there for a word which is simply the opposite of some other word? A word contains its opposite in itself. Take "good", for instance. If you have a word like "good", what need is there for a word like "bad"? "Ungood" will do just as well -- better, because it's an exact opposite, which the other is not. Or again, if you want a stronger version of "good", what sense is there in having a whole string of vague useless words like "excellent" and "splendid" and all the rest of them? "Plusgood" covers the meaning, or "doubleplusgood" if you want something stronger still. Of course we use those forms already. but in the final version of Newspeak there'll be nothing else. In the end the whole notion of goodness and badness will be covered by only six words -- in reality, only one word. Don't you see the beauty of that, Winston? It was B.B.'s idea originally, of course,' he added as an afterthought. A sort of vapid eagerness flitted across Winston's face at the mention of Big Brother. Nevertheless Syme immediately detected a certain lack of enthusiasm. 'You haven't a real appreciation of Newspeak, Winston,' he said almost sadly. 'Even when you write it you're still thinking in Oldspeak. I've read some of those pieces that you write in The Times occasionally. They're good enough, but they're translations. In your heart you'd prefer to stick to Oldspeak, with all its vagueness and its useless shades of meaning. You don't grasp the beauty of the destruction of words. Do you know that Newspeak is the only language in the world whose vocabulary gets smaller every year?' Winston did know that, of course. He smiled, sympathetically he hoped, not trusting himself to speak. Syme bit off another fragment of the dark-coloured bread, chewed it briefly, and went on: 'Don't you see that the whole aim of Newspeak is to narrow the range of thought? In the end we shall make thoughtcrime literally impossible, because there will be no words in which to express it. Every concept that can ever be needed, will be expressed by exactly one word, with its meaning rigidly defined and all its subsidiary meanings rubbed out and forgotten. Already, in the Eleventh Edition, we're not far from that point. But the process will still be continuing long after you and I are dead. Every year fewer and fewer words, and the range of consciousness always a little smaller. Even now, of course, there's no reason or excuse for committing thoughtcrime. It's merely a question of self-discipline, reality-control. But in the end there won't be any need even for that. The Revolution will be complete when the language is perfect. Newspeak is Ingsoc and Ingsoc is Newspeak,' he added with a sort of mystical satisfaction. 'Has it ever occurred to you, Winston, that by the year 2050, at the very latest, not a single human being will be alive who could understand such a conversation as we are having now?'

The speech had been proceeding for perhaps twenty minutes when a messenger hurried on to the platform and a scrap of paper was slipped into the speaker's hand. He unrolled and read it without pausing in his speech. Nothing altered in his voice or manner, or in the content of what he was saying, but suddenly the names were different. Without words said, a wave of understanding rippled through the crowd. Oceania was at war with Eastasia! The next moment there was a tremendous commotion. The banners and posters with which the square was decorated were all wrong! Quite half of them had the wrong faces on them. It was sabotage! The agents of Goldstein had been at work! There was a riotous interlude while posters were ripped from the walls, banners torn to shreds and trampled underfoot. The Spies performed prodigies of activity in clambering over the rooftops and cutting the streamers that fluttered from the chimneys. But within two or three minutes it was all over. The orator, still gripping the neck of the microphone, his shoulders hunched forward, his free hand clawing at the air, had gone straight on with his speech. One minute more, and the feral roars of rage were again bursting from the crowd. The Hate continued exactly as before, except that the target had been changed. The thing that impressed Winston in looking back was that the speaker had switched from one line to the other actually in midsentence, not only without a pause, but without even breaking the syntax. But at the moment he had other things to preoccupy him. It was during the moment of disorder while the posters were being torn down that a man whose face he did not see had tapped him on the shoulder and said, 'Excuse me, I think you've dropped your brief-case.' He took the brief-case abstractedly, without speaking. He knew that it would be days before he had an opportunity to look inside it. The instant that the demonstration was over he went straight to the Ministry of Truth, though the time was now nearly twenty-three hours. The entire staff of the Ministry had done likewise. The orders already issuing from the telescreen, recalling them to their posts, were hardly necessary. Oceania was at war with Eastasia: Oceania had always been at war with Eastasia. A large part of the political literature of five years was now completely obsolete. Reports and records of all kinds, newspapers, books, pamphlets, films, sound-tracks, photographs -- all had to be rectified at lightning speed. Although no directive was ever issued, it was known that the chiefs of the Department intended that within one week no reference to the war with Eurasia, or the alliance with Eastasia, should remain in existence anywhere. The work was overwhelming, all the more so because the processes that it involved could not be called by their true names.

Also please read Nineteen Eighty-Four everyone. It's a very good book, it's not very long, and it's still scarily relevant to today.

[deathbecomesthem]

Promise - A No Shelter Blurb

Rockstar!Eddie x Fem!Wife!Reader

+18 ONLY - Minors DNI

1993 - You and Eddie buy the house of his dreams ---

The thought comes to you on the wind while you stand at the end of the street. Up in The Hills, the air is lighter and moves easier than down in the valley where it feels thick. It can stagnate. Not up here. Up here it skates across your skin. It whispers in your ear. Up here it’s easier to listen.

It’s been in the tabloids and impossible to miss. Tommy’s been sticking his dick in every hole he comes across on their world wide tour. You tell yourself it’s different with your boys, it’s different with Eddie. When you close your eyes, though, you can see the way he looks on stage. You think about the way the label has utilized and merchandised his good looks. His sex appeal. Eddie Fingers. Diamond Tongue Munson. The Freak. You smile remembering him at 20 when he didn’t know what the clitoris was.

From here you can see for miles and miles. It really is a nice spot, even if you didn’t choose it. How can you say no when Eddie seems to need it so much. A house. A place to return to when the road gets too long. And you waiting there for him. Always waiting.

“Sugar,” you didn’t hear him coming up behind you, not with the wind in your ear. It found that secret spot in the back of your mind, and it’s blowing icy air onto it. “I’ve been looking for you. The movers are just about done unpacking the kitchen. Ready to christen the place.” Eddie’s arms are around your waist, and his teeth are on your earlobe. 

“I’ll be back soon, just need to breathe for a while,” you tell him. You’re trying to find a way to pull out of his grasp without him noticing. You just need a second more to hear what you’re trying to tell yourself. His hand squeezes your waist.

“I can breathe with you,” Eddie tells you, his lips on your neck. You close your eyes and think of Jamie. Think of that woman in Topeka that said her husband, Tommy, is the daddy to her new baby. The wind enters your nasal passages and enters your lungs. 

“Eddie,” you say, as you’ve said a million times before, his name is more familiar than your own. That wind in your chest carries the creeping thoughts up your throat and out of your mouth, “I don’t care what you do on the road, you know that right?”

Eddie freezes. His hands slacken from your waist, His lips, detached from the skin of your neck ask, “Sugar, what are you talkin’ about?”

“I mean it, Ed. I don’t care. I know how it is, and it’s fine with me. Just don’t embarrass me. No pictures. And you have to use condoms every time.”

Eddie doesn’t turn you around. Eddie doesn’t move to stand in front of you. Eddie doesn’t try to find your eyes and search them. He stays where he is, with your back in his chest. He doesn’t want you to see his face when he says what he says next.

“I wouldn’t do that. I love you, Sugar.”

“I love you too, Eddie, but I need you to promise me. No cameras, no secret babies. Condoms always,” you say again. You wrap your hand around his and squeeze.

“I promise,” he whispers. His breath cold like the wind on your neck.

[aylacavebear]

Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft. - Ch. 5

When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?

Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 5285

Warnings: Angst, Past Trauma, some Fluff, Confrontation, Dean being a sweetheart & protective.

A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 5

You were holding your breath as the wall seemed to click open, just slightly in that dark corner. At first, you attempted to pull it open, but it didn’t budge, so you gently pushed it, and it gave way. It didn’t push open far, though, only enough to squeeze through. Dean barely fit as he followed you down the thin steps.

The hidden passage was a masterpiece of concealment, meticulously designed to blend in with its surroundings. It was a secret within a secret, so well-hidden that even a knock on the wall would have betrayed nothing. Dean, ensuring the secrecy remained intact, closed the door behind him and descended the steps, adding to the suspense of the exploration. 

You used the flashlight on your phone as the two of you descended the steep staircase, wondering how your dad had managed to build this without anyone finding out. Dean stayed quiet, but his eyes were on you. It felt like you had gone down a few flights of stairs before it finally opened up into a very small landing, another door to your right, which would have led you underneath the house. Using the skeleton key again, you put it in the keyhole, turning it. Dean raised an eyebrow when it clicked and popped open, like the prior hidden door.

Your hand instinctively went to the inside of the door, to your right, finding a light switch, illuminating the most fantastic thing you’d ever seen. You missed Dean’s shocked expression from behind you. It was like an underground house, almost a mirror image of the one above it. There was a living room, though no fireplace, a kitchen, a hallway, and a bedroom. It was also completely furnished. In the back of the kitchen was a laundry room. There was also a pantry, but it was far larger than the one in the house above, and it was fully stocked with canned and bucketed-up food. The sight was nothing short of astonishing.

Dean silently followed you as you looked in each of the areas. You still hadn’t come across the information that your parents had spoken of in the letters, so you kept moving down the hallway and into the bedroom. It was larger, like a master bedroom, and it was set up slightly differently than the one above. The closet in this one was on the opposite wall. It was a decent-sized walk-in closet. Clothes hung on all three sides with some folded on the shelf above with some extra blankets. You smiled softly, realizing your parents had done a fair bit of planning for this. Most of the clothes there would fit you.

At the back of the closet, you moved the clothes out of your way, but there was nothing along the wall anywhere. Slightly frustrated, you checked the wall to your left, but again, nothing. Dean just watched in awe and curiosity as you went to the opposite wall, finding yet another keyhole near the entrance.

Using the skeleton key, you popped the door open, and the small room came to life. The main light turned on, as did four different monitors on a desk that stretched the length of the far wall. On the other wall across from those were filing cabinets and a shelf with books on it. Then there were the computers the monitors were attached to. In the center of the room, though, was a rectangular table. Near the edge, closest to the door, was a lock box, and you could have sworn your heart stopped.

You gingerly walked over to it, pulled the smaller key out of your pocket, and slipped it into the keyhole, turning it slowly. Holding your breath, you opened it. The lock box was full of paperwork, all neatly kept. On top of that was another letter. Pulling the letter out, you then pulled yourself up onto the table next to the lockbox while Dean began looking through the paperwork.

Y/N,

We’re both so proud of you. This place will keep you safe if you need to hide for a while. We’re both sorry that we couldn’t do an underground garage, but it was too risky. There is enough food stocked in the pantry to get you through at least six months. Since it’s all stayed in optimal conditions, it will still be fine no matter when you find this place.

This room is where your security system is. The entire house is wired with cameras, both inside and out. They only record when movement is detected, but that will automatically change three months before your twenty-fifth birthday. At that time, they will record everything, with a file that will have the videos where movement was detected.

All the paperwork we’ve spoken of is in this lockbox. Talk to Jodi. She’ll know who to get it to so you can get out of the contract that Mark had drawn up for Nick. This is important: Never give anyone the originals. There are several copies located in the filing cabinets. Use those when involving anyone. And only involve those you trust, implicitly, like Bobby and Ellen. If John is around, you can trust him, too, as well as Mary. These papers will also help your soulmate when you find him, even if you won’t know it’s him.

We love you so much. We have faith that you’ll get through this and that you’ll find your soulmate. Move whatever you need into this sanctuary. Don’t talk about it over the phone, just in case the other person’s phone is tapped. Be safe, our little angel.

Love, Your Parents

You were in tears again, although they weren’t as hard as before. Dean came over and wrapped his arms around you, just holding you close and trying to comfort you. Neither of you had spoken for a little while now. Your entire world had literally turned upside down.

Dean took a deep breath before he spoke, still holding you close, “I’d ask how you’re doing, but that’s sort of obvious. I can stay if you don’t want to be alone.”

“Thanks,” you replied quietly as he finally pulled away, and then sat in the chair next to you.

“My brother, he can help you with this,” Dean began, but you sighed.

“I heard John, Bobby, and Jodi earlier at the garage. With what my parents said in those letters, I know what monster they were talking about, Nick. The original document they need is somewhere in that lockbox. And, somehow, you’re involved, but I don’t know how. I just feel so��� empty right now, and numb. It’s really overwhelming,” you told him quietly, staring more at the floor.

Dean set his hand on your knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. When you looked over at him, he had a soft, almost compassionate smile that felt comforting in a way. “Why don’t we take tonight, sleep on it all, and we’ll deal with everything in the morning? You look exhausted.”

You chuckled a little, knowing he had a good point, “Alright. Let’s head back upstairs, then.”

After placing all the letters inside the lockbox, you locked it back up. Dean followed you back out, through the bunker, then up the steep staircase, before you both made it back into the garage, clicking the hidden door back into place.

You were still astonished at all that you had discovered in just over four hours. Your mind was so full of thoughts, questions, and worries that you felt like you were in a daze, moving on almost autopilot. Dean helped you grab some blankets and spare pillows for him to sleep on the couch before you headed to your room and changed into some comfy pajamas. They were simple sleep pants with a tank top.

“Want a beer or whiskey? I still feel bad for forgetting about Harvelle’s tonight,” you asked, watching him sit down on the couch.

“Sure. We can have a drink together,” he answered with that soft smile of his, “I’ll have a beer.”

You couldn’t help the smile that crept across your lips before going to the kitchen and retrieving two beers. Popping the tops, you handed one to Dean, took a sip of your own, then sat adjacent to him on the coffee table. 

“I’m sorry you got dragged into this,” you sighed, fidgeting with your beer bottle, staring off at nothing in particular.

You missed the pain in Dean’s eyes, the yearning of wanting to hold you close, and how he stopped himself from pulling you into his arms again. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you don’t have to go through it alone. I know you don’t share much with Bobby, Jodi, or even Ellen. Now, why don’t we focus on something else, like what an amazingly badass mechanic you are,” he told you, smiling proudly when you finally did look up at him.

There was no stopping that light blush that found its way into your cheeks. Compliments weren’t something you were used to, at least not from anyone who wasn’t family. “Thanks,” you replied shyly, ducking your head down a bit, then took a sip of your beer.

“Oh, so she can blush,” he teased you playfully, only making the blush deeper.

“You’re not helping,” you grumbled, but for some reason, there was a slight smile on your lips that you couldn’t stop either.

“Helped the blush,” he chuckled, “Where’d you learn to be a mechanic?”

“Bobby taught me after I pestered him about it. I fell in love with cars after watching The Dukes of Hazard growing up. But, I’ve been playing around in Bobby’s garage since I was like four,” you chuckled, feeling like you were slowly relaxing.

He couldn’t help the laughter that rumbled from his chest, “Good show.”

The two of you talked a bit longer, at least until you two finished your beers. The conversation had relaxed you from the evening's events that had put you on edge. When you went to bid Dean goodnight, though, he got up and hugged you again. For the first time, you felt a sense of safety and contentment being held like that. 

You texted Ellen, letting her know that you needed to talk to her, Bobby, and Jodi the following day, preferably at the garage. You weren’t yet sure about involving John, even though your parents said you could trust him, and Mary, whom you hadn’t met yet. You had decided you would start with those you trusted, and if they deemed it necessary, John could be involved.

He was the first person, not family, that you had let get close to you. There were things you’d told Dean that not even your family knew about, not including tonight's discoveries. As you climbed into bed, under the covers, you smiled to yourself.

I’m still not gonna hope. Having a friend is enough. No. He’s my best friend. I hope he finds his soulmate. He’s an amazing man with a heart of gold.

The scent of coffee, eggs, and bacon pulled you from your slumber, and it smelled amazing. You were smiling before your eyes were even open. Inhaling deeply, you stretched out your rested body, sighing happily as you glanced over at the clock. 

A chuckle slipped out when you saw it read just after nine. You hadn’t slept that late in a while. Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you wandered down the stairs and then into the kitchen, finding Dean standing at the stove, cooking breakfast.

“Mornin’ sleepy head. Hope you’re hungry,” he told you, only glancing at you for a moment before he focused back on his task.

“I am now,” you replied, getting out your coffee cup, filling it, and then sitting at the table, letting the warmth seep into your hands. “You didn’t have to cook me anything. Did you sleep okay?”

“I was hungry, and I wasn’t about to cook just for me in your house,” he chuckled, fairly amused, “Your couch is probably one of the most comfortable I’ve slept on in a while.”

What you didn’t know was that he had stayed up most of the night, watching over you, worried. He’d only gotten about four hours of sleep when his body forced him to doze off out of exhaustion. “My parents picked it out before I was born. I hope my snoring didn’t bother you,” you replied, glancing over at him.

Dean began plating up breakfast, “You don’t snore.”

He had that playful smirk on again, which brought a soft smile to you. Dean set a plate down in front of you, then sat across from you with his own, along with a cup of coffee. His answer surprised you a bit, as it had been something Jo had complained about when you lived with Ellen. 

You moved your hair so that it was behind you and not over your shoulders so you could eat. It truly did smell amazing. You missed how Dean froze for a moment, practically choking on the bite he’d taken when he looked over at you, then went back to his breakfast.

“I have to go to the garage in an hour. I asked Ellen if she’d meet me there. I need to talk to them and let them know what I found,” you explained, focusing more on your breakfast than Dean.

“Is it cool if my Dad is there too?” he asked, glancing over at you briefly.

“If you say I can trust him, then I don’t mind. And breakfast really is amazing. Thanks. No one’s cooked for me like this in a long time,” you replied with that soft smile.

“Thanks, Sweetheart. Learned from my mom,” he replied, barely keeping his emotions in check at the moment. “I’ll text him after breakfast. You get ready, and I’ll clean up.”

You wanted to argue with him, but the look in his eyes caught you off guard, making your heart skip a beat. 

He has a soulmate, you reminded yourself, shoving that hope back into the emptiness where you felt it belonged. 

After breakfast, and another cup of coffee, you went to your room and changed into jeans and a regular shirt. Then, brushed your hair and pulled it back into a ponytail. You pulled your car into the garage, locking it behind you. Then retrieved a copy of the files to show Bobby and the others while Dean waited upstairs.

“Ready, Sweetheart?” Dean asked when you reappeared in the kitchen with several large files in hand.

“Yup,” you replied with a smile.

Making sure the house was locked up, you followed Dean to his car, where he held the door open for you. You couldn’t help the giggle as you slid into the seat and he closed the door behind you. He jogged around the car, got in the driver’s seat, and the two of you were off to the garage.

The closer you got to the garage, the worse your nerves got. Your leg was bouncing before Dean ever pulled into the driveway. He had tried to help you calm down, but this entire thing had your whole body on alter and overdrive.

Dean parked in the back and walked with you inside. The guys just watched silently as the two of you went straight to the office.

“I’ll be right here, the whole time. It’ll be okay,” Dean told you softly before opening the door for you.

Inside, Bobby, Jodi, Ellen, John, and another woman whom you assumed was Mary, all looked at the two of you. The moment the two of you were inside, Dean closed the door, Ellen hugged you, and the other woman hugged Dean.

“What’s all this about, sweetie?” Ellen asked, searching your expression like she did when she was worried.

You wanted to tell her, but the moment you attempted to speak, tears slipped from your eyes again. You just handed her the folders you’d brought before Dean pulled you against him. He filled them in on what you’d found and the letters your parents had left for you. 

The more Dean shared, the harder you held onto him, like somehow he would keep you from drowning in what was now the reality of your world. 

“I need to get Sammy on the phone,” John said, looking through some of the papers in one of the several folders you’d brought.

“Her parents made it clear not to talk about any of this over the phone. They were clearly worried about something,” Dean explained quickly.

“Fine. I’ll call him and tell him he needs to get his ass down here then,” John reluctantly agreed.

Jodi stood up, holding a piece of paper with a relieved look on her face, “I need to get to the station and get the paperwork started. I can at least keep that family away from her with this.”

That was when you glanced over at her, still half clutching to Dean’s shirt. That was when there was a knock on the door. You quickly dried your eyes and pulled away from Dean before he opened it.

“Dean, there’s a guy out here, asking for her,” Benny whispered, his accent thick and worried.

He headed out of the office to find out who it was. Normally, you wouldn’t have followed, but even through your worry, your curiosity won out. No one ever asked for you, let alone came looking for you. The others hadn’t heard Benny, so had no idea what was going on, too focused on the papers. Creeping out of the office, you looked around, then saw Dean just outside the garage. Standing across from Dean, you saw a man who looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He was well-built, had an athletic frame, and was only a couple of inches shorter than Dean. The two looked very similar, but this man had a softer face, not nearly as defined as Dean’s.

Slowly, you walked toward the two of them. Benny wasn’t far from Dean, and the other three weren’t far from Benny. It was like they were all ready to jump in if something happened.

“She doesn’t want to see you or your family,” Dean growled.

The man put his hands up in a mock surrender, “I’m not here to cause problems. I just wanted to meet her. That’s all.” Then, he saw you, and his entire demeanor softened. “Wow…” he said in utter awe as he looked directly into your eyes, “You’re… beautiful.”

You couldn’t stop the blush even if you wanted to, and ducked your head shyly, “Um, thanks.”

He glanced at Dean before he took a few steps closer to you, but Dean stepped between you and the man, “There, you saw her. Now leave,” Dean growled protectively, surprising you a little.

The man ignored Dean, “Y/N, I’d like to have lunch with you if you’re willing. I’ll be at the diner at noon, waiting for you. I’m Cole. I know about what my father and grandfather did, and I don’t want to be a part of it. I just wanted to meet the woman I’m supposed to marry in a couple months, since I don’t have a choice in the matter either.” 

He didn’t wait for you to respond; he just got back in his car and left. Dean then turned to you, “You don’t have to go. He’s got to be lying. That family isn’t to be trusted,” he practically pleaded with you.

Why does life keep throwing one thing after another at me? 

You took a slow, deep breath, “I know I don’t have to go. I also know that he can’t be trusted. What if he’s just being manipulated in this mess like me? You, Benny, and Cas can come keep an eye on me at the diner. Be my bodyguards?” you asked, giving him that soft, sweet smile that you’d reserved just for him, your best friend.

Dean groaned, and you knew it was because he couldn’t argue with you or tell you no when you looked at him like that. Then, he sighed, “Fine. Lemme go tell the others.”

“Cole gives me a bad feelin’, darlin’,” Benny told you, heading toward Cas.

That puzzled you a little. He’d never called you that before, nor had he shown any concern for you at all before Dean had gotten there roughly a month or so ago. When Dean came out of the office, Jodi wasn’t far behind him, and neither of them looked happy. That instantly made you feel bad for involving any of them, even if your parents had said you could trust them. 

Benny and Cas took Benny’s car, while Dean drove you in his. He looked angry and hurt, and he was gripping the steering wheel hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. For some reason, you thought perhaps he was mad at you for something but couldn’t bring yourself to ask. You just looked out the side window as he drove, the ride silent.

When Dean finally parked at the diner, you glanced over at him, then back down at your lap, “I’m sorry you got involved in any of this mess,” you apologized quietly.

“It’s not your fault. I just don’t trust that family,” he replied, a bit gruffly, and that was when you began wondering if he was mad at you or at Cole’s family. “Let’s just get this over with,” he grumbled, getting out of the car.

The other two were also there, and Cole’s car was already in the parking lot. You headed to the door, but Dean didn’t immediately follow you. He hung back to talk to Benny and Cas. Upon entering the diner, you looked around for Cole. At first, you didn’t see him, but it was not until he walked over to you with what looked like a nervous, shy smile.

“Hi, Y/N. I wasn’t sure you’d come. Want to sit and talk?” he asked, looking hopeful.

You smiled a little, although you were also nervous, “I guess I’m too curious for my own good. You said you knew things. It’s why I’m here.”

Cole motioned for you to follow him to the booth he’d been sitting in, sliding in on one side so you did the same opposite him. With where you’d sat, you couldn’t see the door, but Cole could. You figured that was how he noticed you before you noticed him.

“What do you know about what your father and grandfather did?” you asked, getting straight to the point.

“I know they had paperwork drawn up about you and me. I know that you never got your soulmate’s name, and that’s why we’re supposed to get married,” he chuckled almost shyly. “I mostly wanted to meet the woman I’m supposed to marry. Get to know you beforehand. It took a lot of digging to find you.”

So, he either doesn’t know about the other stuff, or he’s lying. If he’s lying, he’s a really good actor. He seems clueless.

You decided to play stupid. Cole was a stranger, after all, and you had plenty of information he didn’t need to know. “I didn’t even know about having to marry you until you told me. It’s… weird. I always figured I’d be alone. Most of the town treats me like the plague or something,” you lied easily.

There was something in the way he smiled after what you said that made you feel uneasy, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. “I’d never treat you like that. I got my soulmate’s name, but I haven’t found her. But then again, I never looked either. I knew about you for a long time. My dad talked about you a lot. Hell, he still does.”

“I’ve never met anyone from your family before. I’m sorry if I seem shy. I’m not used to anyone paying any attention to me,” you replied, fidgeting to sell the lie you were implementing to see just how much you could get out of him.

“I wish you wouldn’t be shy around me. I won’t hurt you. So, you work at the garage? Are you the accountant?” Cole asked you, seeming curious.

He was definitely a hard person to read, and that annoyed you, “I’ll try not to be shy. I do work there, but I’m a mechanic. I love working on cars,” you replied with a smile.

“After we’re married, you’d never have to work again. I would take care of you,” he told you softly, and it almost made your skin crawl.

“Oh?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, “What would I do then? I think I’d be bored all the time if I didn’t have something to occupy my time, like a job.”

Cole smiled again, and you forced yourself not to react visibly, “Well, there are appearances that would need to be made, so we would go to those together. I would love to see you in an elegant evening dress with your hair up and your makeup done,” he replied and bit his lip like he was envisioning just that.

You ducked your head shyly, keeping up with your act, “I have a hard time being around people after being shunned for so long. I’m afraid I’d make for a horrible date in that setting. I’m sorry you ended up getting stuck with someone like me. I don’t wear makeup or do up my hair.”

“There are people in my organization that can teach you. Or, they could do it for you, like getting pampered. Did you want to help with the wedding plans?” he asked fairly bluntly, but he acted curious.

“I don’t know anything about planning a wedding. When I was a teenager, I always pictured getting married in a pair of jeans with only a few friends, under a canopy of trees, barefoot,” you replied with a small smile. That had at least been true; it was a dream, from what felt like another life.

Cole’s face changed to distaste, but only for a split second. You didn’t miss it, though. “I don’t mind worrying about the preparations, since my family is the one that set this whole thing in motion. What else do you like to do?”

“Umm…” you paused, debating lying, but then you smiled a little, deciding to be honest. “I like listening to classic rock while I’m working on a car or driving around. I like nights inside, cuddled up on the couch, watching the fire in the fireplace. I love cooking and baking and sharing it with family. And I absolutely love a burger and fries with a cold beer to wash it down.”

You almost couldn’t keep your laughter inside, watching Cole react to everything you had just said. He was doing his best to keep an interested face, but that was quickly fading. Due to all your attention being on Cole, you didn’t see Dean, Benny, and Cas nearby, listening to the entire thing and watching Cole, closely. Dean’s eyes were on you more than anything, full of adoration.

“That’s, well, uh, you’ll get used to a different kind of life,” Cole finally stated, and you could hear the coldness in his words.

“Well, then, I’ll enjoy the next two months of my freedom. I can’t say it was nice to meet you. Goodbye,” you stated plainly before standing to leave.

Cole’s hand on your wrist, gripping fairly tightly, caught you off guard, and you looked down at him, wide-eyed, “There’s no way out of this. You will be my wife, whether you want to or not. You will do as expected of you, as my wife-” he began, but he was interrupted.

“I think the lady was leaving,” Benny told him with a smirk.

Your gaze shifted from Cole to Benny, noticing that Dean and Cas were standing right there as well. Cole let go of your arm but smirked up at the three of them.

“You can’t protect her forever. I’ll be back to collect her in two months,” Cole told them with the creepiest, skin-crawling, vomit-inducing smirk you’d seen on him yet.

Dean put his arm over your shoulders and led you out of the diner and to his car, never taking his eyes off of you. He even watched you out of the corner of his eye as he drove you back to your place.

When the two of you were back inside your house, you finally told him, “Thank you, Dean, for being there.”

“I told you, you don’t have to go through this alone. Let's get your things together and get you into that bunker. We’ll make it look like you ran. I’ll even hide your car,” he explained quickly and began moving around your house, gathering things.

You felt like you were in a daze again, your world spiraling out of control, and you were afraid there wasn’t enough time to stop what was coming. Dean, though, was focused, moving through the house with purpose. 

“Go get the clothes you want,” he told you from the kitchen, bagging up all the cold and frozen items in your fridge to take to the bunker.

His words pulled your mind back into focus, allowing you to take a deep breath as you headed to your room. You grabbed all your favorite items and packed them in a suitcase you had stashed under your bed for years that had never been used.

By the time you had that packed, Dean had taken care of everything else. Before he could climb the stairs to find you, you were walking down them. You had no clue what to say as you went to the garage, opened the secret door, descended the stairs, then opened and went through the next secret door. 

Dean made several trips, not minding in the least. You felt sluggish as your mind was blank and full simultaneously. You did manage to take the suitcase to the bedroom, though, even if all you did was set it on the floor near the bed. He even went as far as getting the food put away before he went searching for you.

“Hey, I need to go tell the others what’s going on and hide your car. You remember the knock from the movie Rodger Rabbit. I’ll use that one if it’s safe for you to let me come down here. You can use the security system and see what’s going on outside too. So, you’ll know if I’m alone or not. I’ll come back tonight, around seven,” he told you, and you could hear the worry in his words.

You looked up at him and wondered if you looked as broken and out of it as you felt. His expression confirmed that, “Okay. I’m still sorry you got dragged into my mess. But… I appreciate that you’re helping me.”

Dean pulled you into a gentle hug, kissing the top of your head as you slowly wrapped your arms around him. There was something in that moment that made you not want to let him go. You felt that safe feeling again, and your body began relaxing.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave right now,” you whispered.

“I promise, I’ll be back tonight at seven,” he whispered, attempting to reassure you. Then, he squeezed you gently before leaving you alone, closing the secret doors behind him.

How long am I gonna have to be alone here, hiding from something I can’t stop on my own? Will he really come back? Of course he will, he’s my best friend. 

----------------------------------------- Chapter 6

Story Master List Main Master List

Tag List: @deans-spinster-witch @jamerlynn @jackles010378 @bruhidkjustwannaread @onthehuntforshinies

@chriszgirl92 @angzls @xolivvies-cornerxo @certainsaladstarfish @onlyangel-444

@nancymcl @muhahaha303 @suckitands33 @kr804573 @justrandomthougt

@suckitands33 @mxtansy @scarletqueenx @krazykelly @roseblue373

@whimsyfinny @ladysparkles78 @aaathazagoraphobiaaa @hobby27 @perpetualabsurdity

@cicibunbuns @n-o-p-e-never @vanessa-boo @foxyjwls007 @uoberpmollah

@xolivvies-cornerxo @certainsaladstarfish @kdadss

If I missed tagging, please let me know. I had a lot of requests for tags for this one. If you'd like to be tagged, drop me a comment.

[calamaroo]

Wassup California love!

Do you have any Dashi HC's from any of your AU's or just for Dashi in general.

Also lowkey would love to hear some more pirate AU stuff cause I love it!

THE LIST IS GROWING!!! CALIFORNIA LOVE!!!

(I love beyond words all the absolute absurd nick names/various ways to say my name, I cherish each and every one 🥹)

Dashi Masina Dachshund

Some general headcanons:

She/her, 34 years old, Bisexual (I dont know a lot about different sexualities, but that seems fitting).

Loves fashion (along with Kwazii) and their styles are the most out there compared to everyone else's. They modify their uniforms the most out of the crew, and Dashi has a particularly love for a pink, tropic, and techy aesthetics.

This is how I imagine her general aesthetic and/or vibe looks (Absolutely drop dead gorgeous) :

AfroAmer + Samoan ( original idea from @animalsalvationassociation ) grew up in Australia with her mother, who was a wildlife photographer. They traveled often but always returned home eventually. --- mother is Samoan, and father was AfroAmer

Her middle name : "Masina," mean "moon" in Samoan. I think it's fitting because the moon affects the tides, and having the moon in your good graces would grant you safe passage on the sea.

Was a pilot before the Octonauts, where she continued to travel and took photos of all her destinations. Even now, she sends almost all of the pictures she takes back to her mother.

( @hers-underwraps ) said she would be into meteorology, and that sounds very fitting.

Pirate!Dashi

AU Lore/Headcanons :

Is the Black Ice's Navigatior (like a Skipper). She pilots the ship and is the best at it. She could dock even the biggest warship on a dabloon if she wanted.

Met the Gentleman Blue (+ crew, which was only Tweak and Kwazii at the time) after she tried to steal his ship. Barnacles was impressed by her skills and bravery and asked if she'd like to join them. She agreed.

She is closest with Shellington (the new guy) and occasionally helps him with his alchemy.

Primary weapons would be something focusing on distance. Poison darts, throwing knives, and the occasional flintlock shot. Knives and darts are quicker than guns to reload, so she sticks to that. She doesn't fight often though, as on the rare occasion an enemy managed to get on to the Black Ice, they are quickly removed or killed before they can reach the helm.

Master of seduction and trickery. She knows she's drop-dead gorgeous and will use that to her advantage. (Because she's hot like that, and a pirate. She's gotta be a least a little evil and sexy.)

Nicknamed : "The Black Ice Siren"

Extremely competitive at card games/fun stuff they do on board in their free time. She wins most of the time, and it infuriates Kwazii (who is twice as competitive)

This is what I envision for her pirate design (which I have yet to draw, but have a vision/general idea of) :

That's all I can think of rn, i hope you like it <3

Tried to make it look pretty to impress you 👉👈

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

Warnings: Read chapter 1 for warnings. Additionally, this chapter is the setup for the second half of the entire story! Stuff starts to go downhill again from this point onward. I know I've mentioned that in recent posts, but it's always nice to have a reminder.

Also, I've come down with a pretty bad cold and have pretty bad brain fog and I haven't been able to proof-read chapters 14 and 15 as well, so there might be a bit of a hiatus for a few days while I recover. I'm still online, but i'm operating at 50% brain capacity ;w; I'm also plucking away at a few pallette cleanser stories that are NOT angsty, so stay tuned for those as well!

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock

Chapter 13

[Prev] [Next]

You were seated on the closed toilet lid, your hands folded in your lap.  You were perspiring so rapidly you were starting to feel dehydrated.  Your heel bounced spastically against the linoleum floor, making your entire body tremble with the force of your anxiety.  Butterflies filled your chest, an impatient, fearful tingling sensation that spread out over your shoulders and into your head.  You were starting to feel dizzy.

Law was across from you, leaning against the wall with his lead lowered and his arms crossed over his chest.  His inked fingers were drumming against his arm, his own subtle way of channeling his nervous energy outward instead of bottling it in.  His breaths were shallow and uneven, as if he was trying to contain an outburst.

Like a sauna, the air in the room was stifling.  

A developing pregnancy test was sitting on the sink counter.

Here you were again.

“Five minutes,” Law muttered, a sound so faint and airy that you almost didn’t hear it.

You released an airy chuckle, your voice coming out in a wavering quiver.  “No matter how many times we do this, it never gets less stressful.”

Law smirked, letting go a huff of his own, his shoulders bouncing slightly with the motion.  “The passage of time keeps fucking me up, really.  How long has it been since your surgery?”

“A little over four  months now, I think,” you replied, counting in your head.  Four months since your surgery, and almost six months since your miscarriage.

“God,” your husband muttered, gently knocking his head against the tiled wall of your bathroom with a soft thud.  “And here we are once more.”

“Suffering,” you added.

Law barked out a sudden laugh.  “You’re not suffering on my watch, baby.”

You covered your face with your hands, hiding your embarrassed smile.  Law took the opportunity to snatch the pregnancy test off of the counter while you weren’t looking, inwardly fed up with the tension and apprehension.  When you gazed back up at him, your chest contorted at the sight of his face.  He was staring at the white stick, expression completely emotionless.  You absolutely could not tell if he was feeling elated or distressed.

“L-Law…?” you wearily called.

Silently, Law rotated his wrist to reveal the display of the test, his mouth morphing into a smile as he did so.

Two red lines.

Your heart was hammering wildly behind your sternum as you stood from the toilet seat, yanking the stick out of his hands and holding it close to your face, as if the results were false.  The positive line was quite vivid compared to your first positive test, or what you could remember of it.  Your hands were trembling, nervous shivers wracking your entire body as you absorbed the sight in front of you.  Your mind was whirling with incomprehensible thoughts, your neurons firing so rapidly you felt as though your entire psyche was filled with nonsensical radio static.  The corners of your vision grew blurry.

With a broad grin, you once again looked at your husband, who had a rare, toothy smile of his own.

“I’m almost scared to celebrate again,” you whispered.

Law stepped toward you and pulled you into one of his tight hugs you loved so much.  He squeezed you like a boa constrictor, like he was trying to funnel every ounce of affection he had in his weary heart into your soul.  You stifled a wheeze, squeezing him back as hard as you could.  His feet were planted to the ground, the only sound in the small room being your shared breaths of apprehension, nervousness, and excitement.  You could almost feel his own erratic heartbeat through your skin.  His hands were glued to your shoulders and waist as he wrapped you in his embrace, afraid that if he released you you’d disappear in front of him.

He inhaled an uneasy, shaky breath.  “We don’t have to tell anyone so soon this time, if you don’t want to,” he offered.

You inhaled the faint scent of laundry detergent mixed with that lingering hydrogen peroxide smell that always remained on his clothes.  “I think we should still tell Shachi and Penguin, after everything they’ve done to help us…”

Your husband simply hummed in response.  “What would you feel comfortable with?”

You shimmied in his arms, making him release you from his iron grip and step back slightly.  “Maybe we can wait a few weeks and then tell them.  Just to make sure everything is going okay.”

Law nodded, gracing you with that small, polite, slightly insecure smile that you loved so much.  “I like that plan.”

“And,” you continued, “I’ll call Robin tomorrow.”  You smiled to yourself, knowing that was going to be Law’s next question.

Indeed, he smiled.  “You know me too well.”

A faint boof bounced around the narrow halls of your apartment as Bepo demanded attention in the living room, making the two of you chuckle awkwardly after being forced back into reality, enclosed in your small bathroom.  Law began to step away from you, opening the door that was cracked open and stepping out into the rest of your home.  “I’ll take the fur baby outside.”

“Alright,” you replied, voice barely higher than a fleeting breath as you watched him round the corner and walk away, Bepo’s excited paw steps tapping across your floor.  You once again glanced at the test in your hands, a warm feeling swelling in your chest that also fought with an intense feeling of unease.

—

You stared at the pale yellow wall in front of you, your left arm outstretched and resting against a small tray as a tired-looking nurse wrapped a tourniquet around your bicep, pulling it uncomfortably tight and harshly squeezing the fat of your arm.  You watched her out of the corner of your eye as she disinfected the inside of your elbow with an alcohol swab, leaving a cold wet patch of your skin that made you suppress a shiver.  You were somehow wishing she could engage with you in even the most menial of small talk, anything to diminish the sheer awkwardness that permeated the small laboratory room around you.  You subtly winced as you felt the needle be inserted into your arm, followed by a swift cap and a tube to extract a precise vile of blood from your body.  You didn’t consider yourself squeamish by most means, but the sight of your dark red blood pooling rapidly into a plastic laboratory tube made your stomach twist, so you opted to continue looking away until the nurse expertly released the cap, extracted the needle, and covered the vile.  She labeled it with your name and patient number just as quickly as she ripped a portion of medical tape from its roll and used the sticky strip to adhere a piece of gauze to your skin.

“You’re all set, you’ll receive a call from your doctor when your results are in,” she said plainly.  Half of your mind felt a bit sorry for coming into the lab so early in the morning, the poor nurse was probably only halfway through her morning coffee.

You stood from the chair, grabbing your bag from the floor and flashing her an apologetic smile.  “Thank you.”

She simply nodded and placed your tube of blood into a small, white tray, carrying it out of the room and away from your sight.  Your stomach quickly filled the silence with an intense, hardy grumbling.  Shouldering your bag, you briskly exited the lab area, paced through the waiting room of the clinic, and back out through the entrance doors.  The early summer sun beat down on your skin as you walked through the parking lot to your car.  You tossed your bag into your passenger seat, immediately turning your key in the ignition to blast the air conditioning and diminish the stifling warmth that permeated the inside of your vehicle.  You blindly fumbled through your bag for your phone, tapping the screen to pull up your texts with your husband.

Hey babe, i just finished at the lab!  They only took one thing of blood from me, i thought thered be more but im also happy it was only the one  ;3; anyway, i’ll call you when i hear back from the doctor, she said hopefully it shouldnt be more than a day.  Good luck today, i love you!!!!!! ^3^ ^3^ ^3^

You were just about to put your phone back into your bag before the screen lit up once more with an incoming text from Law.  You grinned- he must be on break already.

Baby~~<3

Make sure you eat something filling at brunch, even if it was just one vile you should still replenish.  If you hear back and I don’t respond, I’m most likely in an operation.  I love you so much, baby, I’ll see you later tonight.

Leave it to your husband, always making sure you were on top of your medical needs even while on a shift where he was responsible for 30 other people.  You finally placed your phone back in your bag, putting your car in reverse and beginning your drive.

—

Ikkaku was already waiting for you with a table by the window of the cafe when you arrived.  She smiled, a grin so bright it could blind you, as she eagerly waved you over.  You gleefully followed her motions, plopping down across from her.  She barely gave you time to adjust your posture in your seat before she began excitedly speaking.

“So…?  You said yesterday you had something you wanted to tell me.”  Your curly-haired friend leaned forward with her elbows on the small table.

“Geeze, girl, let me breathe first!” you chuckled.  “I haven’t even registered where I am yet!”

Ikkaku jokingly snapped her fingers.  “Then hurry up!”

With a smile, you gazed downward at the paper menu that had been placed in front of your seat before you arrived.  A milkshake definitely sounded good right now…

“What are you thinking of ordering?” you asked, making Ikkaku huff impatiently, though she quickly gazed over her own menu.

“I was really eyeing up the veggie omelet,” she replied.  “I need something savory or I’ll die.”

You laughed.  “That does sound pretty damn good…” you trailed off, thinking deeply before asking, “Would you want to split an extra large milkshake?”

Ikkaku’s impatience with your dawdling finally dissipated as her large brown eyes lit up in excitement.  “Uhm, fuck yeah I do!”

Soon after, a waitress came by with a small notebook and placed down your orders.  A short stack of pancakes, a veggie omelet, and an extra large chocolate milkshake to share.  Once your table was left alone, you finally leaned forward and grabbed your friend’s attention for the information she was so desperate to hear.

“Okay, I need you to keep this a secret from everyone, and I need you to seriously promise me that,” you began, your voice indicating intense directness that immediately told Ikkaku that you weren’t messing around.

“Of course,” she responded.  “I know I tend to be a chatterbox, but I’ll hold your word.”  She lightly pounded her fist against her chest, a silent symbol of her promise.

You grinned faintly before taking a deep inhale through your mouth and whispering, “I got a positive pregnancy test a week ago.”

Ikkaku sucked in a shocked gasp, pulling her hands to her mouth in bewilderment.  “No way?!”

“Shhh, Ikka!” your hand shot across the small table to land on her mouth in a futile attempt to silence her before the entire cafe knew of your news.  “I’m really keeping it on the down-low for now, since… you know.”

Your friend’s eyes were shining with delight, almost tearing up in the corners as she gazed at you with love only a life-long friend could have.  “That’s incredible, oh my goodness, I’m so excited for you!”  She was finally keeping her voice down, but her wavering squeaks as she talked revealed the sheer amount of effort it was taking her to keep her composure.  “When did you find out?”

“About a week ago,” you replied.  Your lips finally broke into a wider smile as you took in her infectious excitement, though your chest was still fluttering with a fear that had yet to disappear.  “I’m only telling you because I want you to be there in case anything happens again.  I love our friends, but you know how gossipy they can be.  I think I can trust you better than anyone else.”

Ikkaku grabbed your hand that you had reached toward her, clenching it tightly in her own grasp as she followed your posture and leaned over the table.  “You have my word.  You know I’m always a phone call away, in and out of work.”

“Thank you, Ikka…” you responded to her promise with an airy sigh, feeling your own sinuses grow achy with the risk of impending tears.

Your overflowing emotions were quickly subdued when your waitress returned with an astronomically large glass filled to the brim with a rich chocolate milkshake, dolloped with a generous swirl of whipped cream and two maraschino cherries for each of you.  You briskly ripped open your straw and dove it into the sweet drink, taking a long sip to drown your tears.  You refused to cry over a nice brunch, and a little chocolate therapy was always the best medicine.  Ikkaku was giggling at your desperate actions as she inserted her own straw and took a savoring sip of her own.

“Have you told anyone else?” she asked, still keeping her voice fairly low.

Your lips finally released their death grip on the tip of your straw.  “Only Shachi and Penguin.  We wanted them to know first before anyone, because…” you awkwardly tilted your head, hoping you wouldn’t have to bring up the elephant in the room again.  “You know.”

Much to your relief, Ikkaku nodded, understanding your intentions immediately.  “Of course, of course.  I’m glad you have those two living in the same apartment building as you!”

You laughed, running the tip of your finger along the cold glass of the milkshake, collecting some of the condensation on your skin.  “Me too, they’ve basically been raising Bepo for us.  I feel a little bad for the poor thing, honestly… I know he’s probably confused with all the fussing going on in our home.”

Ikakku grinned.  “If you ever need some extra hands for that polar bear you know where to find me!”

Your waitress returned for a third time, this time bearing two plates of food, both dishes steaming and filling your nostrils with the addicting scent of a weekend brunch.  Your mouth was watering as your pancakes were placed in front of you, golden brown and perfectly cooked on either side, moist and subtly sweet, the succulent aroma of the small amount of cinnamon in the batter warming your soul.  You quickly got to work dolling up your plate with a small amount of butter and a bountiful drizzle of fresh maple syrup from your table.

“Ikka, how’s your–”  Your sentence was cut off when you finally glanced up at your best friend just as she shoved a heaping fork-full of crispy home fries into her mouth.  Her wide, brown eyes stared back at you like a deer caught in headlights.  You were laughing at her display, your shoulders bouncing as you reached for your own fork.  “Nevermind, I think you just answered my question.”

—

[CODE PINK]

Law’s heart was pounding wildly in his chest as he rounded the corner of the cardiac ICU into the room where the code was directed, already spotting his colleagues surrounding a bed with the crash cart.  A male nurse was positioned on his knees on the bed, frantically performing CPR on the small figure beneath the blankets.  As if his actions were second nature, he approached the crash cart and assumed an authoritative roll, preparing the on-board defibrillation machine for immediate use.

A blood-curdling scream reverberated around the small space, a nurse at Law’s side rushing over to the entrance of the room to usher a panic-stricken woman out of the area.  Her cries were deafening, making a younger nurse across the bed from the surgeon wince, her face flushing red with adrenaline-fueled horror.

“DEFIB is ready,” Law called, passing the machine off to a technician who expertly manned the paddles, timing his procedure with the nurse performing CPR.  A few more nurses, as well as Dr. Tony entered the room and began their assistant procedures for the code.

Law finally got a glimpse of the body under the sheets.  A young boy, no more than ten years old, was laying limp, eyes wide open and glued to the ceiling, yet reflecting no light.  The tiny child’s skin was paler than the white walls of the hospital room.  His form lurched with the force of the defibrillator, which only did so much to muffle the sounds of the screaming, crackling sobs from the hallway.  A heart monitor, connected to the child’s skin with sticky electrode pads, was showing zero signs of life.  A different nurse assumed his position on the bed to continue administering CPR, but as soon as he forced his gloved hands down onto the boy’s chest, a trickle of blood exited the corner of the child’s mouth.

“Stop,” Law immediately called.  He stepped forward, pressing two fingers against the neck of the boy, right under his jaw.  No pulse.  His skin was icy cold, sending a chill up Law’s spine.  A tiny stream of blood continued to trickle from the child’s mouth.  His ribs were surely broken after the force of the compressions on his fragile body.  The ECG monitor on the crash cart continued to display no signs of cardiac activity.  The mother of the boy continued wailing from the hallway, the sound now the only thing filling the ears of the workers in the solemn room.

The nurses surrounding the table tossed nervous, frustrated, and pained glances at each other while waiting for Law to respond.

The black-haired surgeon tossed a glance at the digital clock hanging on the far wall.  “Time of death is 11:47 AM.  Dr. Tony, can you please contact the coroner and have him report to room 204 immediately?”

The younger doctor vigorously nodded.  “Yes, sir.”  He departed the room in a hurry, headed to the nearest nurses’ station for a pager.

“The rest of you,” Law continued.  “Please secure the room.  I’m going to speak to the patient’s mother.”

The nurses and technicians silently cleaned the scene, wiping down the face of the boy and closing his lifeless, marbled eyes.  Law paced out of the room and into the hallway, where the mother, at least that’s what he assumed, was still draped over a nurse, wailing in sheer desperation and agony.  Law attempted to keep his shoulders poised, exuding an air of confidence and humility as he approached.  The nurse looked up as Law stepped closer, obviously doing her hardest to hold in her own heavy tears.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Law called, trying to keep his voice as level as possible.  “I’m sorry, but your son–”

He barely had time to think before a harsh slap was planted against his cheek.  A sharp, intense stinging sensation spread throughout his skin and his tongue got caught in between his molars, making him involuntarily clamp down on the muscle as his entire body was lurched to the side with the force of the blow.  The metallic taste of blood began to flood his mouth, making him cringe as he was forced to swallow it instead of spitting it out onto the hospital floor.  His sharp, golden eyes gazed at the woman who had landed the blow on his face.  She looked furious, almost feral, and her hand was contorted into a fist that she was clearly keen on using against him.

“FUCK YOU,” she screamed, her voice cracking in despair.  “YOU KILLED HIM.  YOU KILLED MY SON.”

More colleagues from the hallway who witnessed the scene approached, attempting to assist the weary nurse in restraining the frantic woman while a few others made desperate calls for the closest security officer.  Law simply stood across from her, stunned yet stoic, as he felt a trickle of blood flow down his cheek.  Her wedding ring must have scratched him.  

More curses were lobbed in his direction.  “How can you just stand there and look like that after you let my son die?!  How can you just go about your life as normal after letting him die?!”  The nurse originally holding the woman was releasing a quiet plea, her voice audibly trembling, begging her to take a step back and let her guide her to a quiet room where she could calm down and grieve, but the mother’s screams were too loud.

A security officer’s heavy footsteps bounded down the hallway, his gear jingling on his belt.  The officer placed his gloved hand on Law’s shoulder, forcing the doctor to take a step back.  “We’ll take care of her, go clean yourself up, doctor.”

Law gazed fiercely at the officer.  “You better show her some compassion.”  He turned tail and briskly paced back toward the doctor’s only area, entering the private restroom and flicking on the light.

He cringed at the sight of himself in the mirror.  Sure enough, a long, yet somewhat shallow, slash was dug into the tan skin of his left cheek, dribbling slow-moving blood down his skin.  He winced when he trailed his fingertips over the wound, the heavy, dull ache clearly the sign of a hefty bruise developing on his cheek bone.  He opened his mouth, leaning closer to the mirror to get a glimpse at the inside of his mouth.  He had bit his tongue, leading to a painful gash in the muscle that continued to bleed sour, coppery blood into his mouth.  It coated his back molars with a morbid crimson.  He silently bent over the sink, turning on the tap and collecting water into his hands that he readily slurped up, swishing around his mouth and spitting back into the sink bowl.  The water was a vibrant pink, heavy with blood.  His tongue stung from the contact the foreign liquid made with the muscle.  He splashed some more water on his face, cleaning off the cut in his cheek that continued to ooze blood for a few more moments before finally slowing a beginning to clot.  He swished water in his mouth a few more times.

Law’s hands remained poised on the bowl of the sink, supporting his weight as he leaned over the tap, struggling to take in enough oxygen.  His arms were trembling as adrenaline continued to pump through his body.  He tossed himself a scalding glare in the mirror as he pushed himself away from the sink and left the bathroom.

—

You were still awake when Law sulked through the door.  His shoulders were slumped, his entire posture ragged and weary as he followed his usual routine of kicking off his shoes, shrugging off his jacket, and dropping his bag to the floor.  Your greeting was silenced by yourself as you took in his visibly distraught demeanor, a large, white bandage on his left cheek, a black and blue bruise flourishing underneath the wrapping.  Law’s eyes appeared sunken in and red, as if he hadn’t slept in a year.

“Honey…?” you called meekly, standing up from your spot on the couch and meeting him halfway in the living room.

Silently, Law took your hand, led you into your bedroom, and pulled you down onto the bed with him.  The way his hand was violently trembling in your grasp made your heart ache in your chest.  He wordlessly buried his head into your neck, wrapping his long legs around your own and holding you as close as he could with his arms around your body.

It didn’t take a genius to guess the kind of day he had.  You followed his silence, lacing one of your arms around his shoulder and weaving your other hand into his hair, running your fingers through the slightly greasy strands of raven-black in the way you knew he loved.  

A warm, wet sensation seeped through the collar of your cotton shirt.

[avatarkv]

A PASSAGE FROM TUK-TUK’S DIARY (THE END ¿ )

NOW PLAYING: JUST TAKE MY WALLET, JACK STAUBER

I know when someone dies, they’ll never come back. But after Neteyam was gone, he never really left immediately. He always visited me in dreams— played with me like always. To me, he never really died. It didn’t feel like that at first, or maybe I just didn’t really understand.

I don’t know how many days it has been. I stopped drawing sticks at home because it was getting obvious and cramped and the pages of my book is growing thin. I can’t count it with my fingers, even with my sibling’s combined! I tried to draw on leaves, but I keep losing them.

I am scared of forgetting.

I am forgetting what Neteyam smells like. I don’t want to, so I try to gather his necklaces and other clothings for myself and I tuck myself to sleep along it. In the morning, dad looked at me funny and yelled—maybe it’s because he doesn’t want us to touch his things or because he doesn’t know how to talk to me anymore. Dad has been distant and cold, but I don’t blame him. Like Lo’ak, sempu is just as hard on himself. He thinks what happened on the ship was his fault; he thinks he failed as a father.

It’s odd because he still has us three.

I don’t know how to explain that his scent is dying without saying his name, because if I do, he stares at nothing and I can’t get ahold of him. It’s like he drifts to somewhere far, somewhere where he can’t hear me. I miss my dad, I miss when he played with us. I don’t think he loves me as much as before anymore. Things changed and I don’t know how to handle it.

I let him take his things again and maybe for the better. I don’t want it to smell like me. I want it to still smell like him. Maybe I’ll have to just borrow it sometimes.

I am forgetting how Neteyam sounds like. I don’t hear his voice correctly in my mind now, so I grow frustrated every time. I try to cover my ears, but it just isn’t the same anymore.

Even my dreams of Neteyam are a blur. Like he was nothing— like he was never truly there. Maybe he got tired of visiting, maybe he doesn’t love me as much anymore. I wonder if this is what death truly is. To forget someone.

This family is breaking and it’s all your fault. I know life is borrowed, but did you have to take him away so soon? Please, great mother, give him back to us. He was my brother first— he was my mother’s son before you. I don’t know the softest way to say that you took away my friend because all I feel is grief and grief is ugly, you might not like the words that I would tell.

I miss Neteyam and I don’t have the words to express it. He didn’t die on that rock. He died today. I can’t remember him anymore.

He died today.

mauve here! this is the last of this series, i really enjoyed writing it ;’( poor tuk-tuk. i can’t even imagine how she’s feeling after losing neteyam especially that i read somewhere that she looks up to him like a second father. also decided to repost this to tell everyone that i might post the next chapter of every corner of this house is haunted a bit bit late because i’m feeling under the weather and i don’t feel so good mentally. i will be emptying my inbox tomorrow morning though! read everyone’s sweet messages and i really appreciate it.

again, this series is inspired from the book "the scar" by charlotte moundlic!

[luckydicekirby]

would love any director's commentary you may have on The Only True Thing if slightly older fics are on the table here bc lowkey it changed my brain chemistry forever. I read it on a whim like four years ago at 1 in the morning and ever since then I've been hooked on making all my fav pairings miserable for no reason. this sounds like sarcasm but I'm being completely sincere the schadenfreude is exquisite

okay first of all I’m SO glad to hear this because making your favs miserable is I think one of the most rewarding activities on this earth so I’m really glad I could help share that joy. thanks also to sylvain for just making it so easy. anyway, here’s some assorted thoughts, hopefully some of which are edifying!

(the only true thing for reference for anyone playing along at home.)

this fic affectionately named the darkling au due to this tweet which I feel like I should put in a hall of fame someday. anyway this entire thread showcases the origin of this fic which was me catie and lily bullying each other on twitter about sylvix, a pastime left behind in 2019 which i really miss.

the thing that really first made me Crazy Cuckoo about sylvain is his B support with Byleth--I'm obsessed with that moment where he very coldly threatens to kill you and then laughs it off, and that was pretty much the jumping off point for Sylvain's characterization in this au--what if he was like that all the time? answer: it would be bad, but also pretty sexy!

One thing I miss about writing for fe3h is the hero’s relics were sooo nice as like. shortcut symbolism. the lance of ruin comes preloaded for you! It’s familial cycles of violence! Easy! and there's a mechanic for it breaking ALSO preloaded into the game mechanics! I wrote like three versions of the ending and the lance getting busted moved around a bit--it originally happened a little earlier.

For a while when I was still femblempilled I was idly thinking about two sequels to this—a sylvain pov sequel about the war, which would have been fun but also Yikes, and then epistolary dorothea/ingrid ideological divorce fic. sorry to dorothea and ingrid who really get the short end of the stick in this universe.

oh there's a playlist. I can’t claim to have put a ton of thought into it it’s just all my fav bad ya boyfriend songs <3 actually dead girl walking reprise is like. yeah that's the fic.

ANYWAY. I feel like a lot of my commentary on this has been washed away by the sea (the passage of time) so a few extras. I apparently wrote like 400 words of sylvain POV of the training yard scene also? Last edited September 26th 2019, here you go:

Felix has always been smaller him, ever since they were kids. Still is these days, to Sylvain’s delight. He wondered about it plenty, these past two years--maybe Felix had a growth spurt. Maybe he caught up to Dimitri. Maybe Sylvain would meet him at the monastery and they’d see eye to eye. Of course they don’t. Felix is a head shorter than him, and he’ll never see things the way Sylvain does. Still. Sylvain thought about it. He’s had a lot of time to think about Felix since the last time he saw him, since Felix ran away. Still a crybaby at heart, no matter how sure he was he’d grown out of it. Not much has changed, Sylvain figures. Felix might have everyone else fooled with that delightfully sharp-edged exterior of his--a pretty decent feint, Sylvian should know--but Felix can’t hide from him. Sylvain sees him down to the bone. The two of them are a matched set: liars at heart.  Like right now. Felix is trying so hard not to cry, his back to the wall of the training yard, his grip tight around the wood of his training sword like he’s actually going to use it. Sylvain hopes he will. He hasn’t gotten to see Felix fight yet, really fight. He bets he’s gotten better. He bets he’s elegant and controlled—maybe less so with Sylvain, and wouldn’t that be nice? That’s how it goes sometimes, when Sylvain dreams about their last day together. Felix’s sword at his throat, biting and cold, ending all this before it began. It would have saved everyone a lot of trouble. Sylvain wouldn’t have had to spend such an awfully long time missing him.  He bets Felix could make him hurt. Nothing seems to do that anymore, except for thoughts of Felix, the ones he can never stop worrying at like a bruise.  Sylvain doesn’t want much these days, and maybe that’s why it’s so hard: he wants Felix in a way that aches, delirious and unstoppable. It doesn’t matter so much how. Felix is welcome to cut him open or kiss him quiet or anything in between. As long as he never stops looking at Sylvain like he is now, hateful and just on the edge of tears, so clearly focused on nothing else. As long as Sylvain can have that, the rest doesn’t matter.  That’s love, Sylvain figures; the cheerful facade he gives the girls is nothing. He forgets about a new one every week. But Felix? He’ll be dead someday, and Felix will still have a grip on his heart, as tight as he’s holding his sword and just as dangerous.

and what exists of the sylvain POV sequel I never wrote:

Felix looks like shit. Of course he’s also beautiful. He’s radiant, for all that his hair’s a mess and his face is drawn and he’s got the kind of dark circles that only come from weeks and weeks of exhaustion. He’s Felix, right? He can’t be anything else. “You look like shit,” Sylvain tells him, because honesty is what Felix thinks he wants from him. He hasn’t seen Felix in six moons, but that probably hasn’t changed. “What are you doing here?” Felix asks. His horse stamps her feet and shakes her head, moving uneasily under him. Felix has never been a good rider. It’s clear he doesn’t appreciate his mare, and she doesn’t appreciate him. Sylvain wonders how long Felix has been making his way across Faerghus like this. He wonders if he stole the horse. It’s awful not to know. “Looking for you,” Sylvain says. “They say you’re searching for the king.” Felix never could stop himself from chasing ghosts. Sylvain hates that about him. It’s just as unfair as everything else: it’s the only reason Sylvain is still here, after all.  “I am. And you should be defending Gautier territory.” “Got a message from your father,” Sylvain lies. He slides off his horse, patting her flank. Felix, clumsily, does the same. “He wants you to come home.” That part’s probably true.  Felix scoffs. “My old man can send all the messages he wants. I’m going to find the boar.” He means it. Sylvain can see that he means it, in the flinty look in his eyes, the fold of his arms, the jut of his chin as he looks up at Sylvain. It’s the saddest thing Sylvain’s ever seen, and he’s seen a lot of shit. “Felix,” he says. He reaches out. He can never help it, not when Felix is like this, not when he believes. Felix doesn’t flinch from Sylvain’s hand on his cheek anymore. “Sweetheart. You know he’s dead.” “Don’t call me that,” Felix says. But when he swings himself back in the saddle and Sylvain does the same, he doesn’t tell Sylvain not to follow. That’s more than good enough. 

[muffinsin]

Hello muffin. Had a really stupid idea I just had to share. How about all three of the sisters having a crush on Donna and trying to seduce her but failing epically. Just three homicidal extroverted lunatics trying to seduce a rather shy introvert in all the wrong ways. With Donna thinking they are threatening her or something. Angie and the others all watching and not saying anything as the comedic potential is high. I don't know just complete misunderstandings all around. What do you think?

Thinking this has full on meme potential XD. Wishing I could draw to make art out of the chaotic scenarios that could stem from this lmaoo🙊

Let’s get into it! :)

Masterlists

Bela

Now, Bela has always been encouraged to take what she wants by her mother

Naturally, this must include Donna, right?

Now, there is a fair share of maidens at the castle hoping to woo the eldest sister

Not that she has time for any of this

She always turns them down, though uses their failed attempts as teachings

What’s so hard? An invitation to a date, then talking of shared interests. Piece of cake!

Never has she attempted to woo someone. But, she has an ego. She knows she’ll do amazing

What could go wrong?

Well, for one that Bela enters breaks into the Beneviento gardens in her search of the lord without really knowing what causes could follow

She seems to have forgotten that Donna is, despite her timid manner, quite powerful. And so is her entire region

There is a reason Mother wouldn’t let her and her sisters hunt in this region…

Disoriented, almost high on pollen, and absolutely out of it by the flowers planted nearly everywhere, Bela swarms face first into Donna, who believes she truly did experience a heart attack just then

Slurry words fall from her lips, something alongside dinner?

Donna is sweating under her veil. Is the huntress before her threatening her?

Will she be dinner?!

She is overly alert of Bela’s sharp teeth peeking out from behind her lips. As well as the scent of blood surrounding her

Will she be her next victim?

Apparently not, for Bela falls face first into her, the pollen of various cadou-infested flowers entirely too much

Maybe she should have asked to come. Maybe then Donna would have told her about a safer passage through the gardens, without the many flowers

Nonetheless, Donna is almost completely still under her, having been too lost in thought to catch Bela

Or well; catch her she did…with her body

The blonde quite literally falls on top of her, her unconscious, heavy body on the dollmaker

Of course, Donna is too shy to attempt to wake the sleeping blonde

She considers reaching out to Angie, but merely hears a snicker in return. Of course she’d find this funny

Is this her fate now?, the shy dollmaker wonders, with her clothes dirtied by mud and breath smelling of blood and toothpaste blown in her face with each exhale coming from Bela’s mouth

Cassandra

She’s always been intrigued by Donna, always

However- she isn’t the best at wooing someone. She wants a person, she takes them. That’s how she plays

Also, most practically throw themselves at her, if they don’t run away

So- how to woo a lady of the village?

She doesn’t think on it for too long, instead goes for what she thinks will work best: gifts!

Now, some might consider flowers or chocolate sweet gifts. Not Cassandra. They bore her to death

Surely Donna will agree!

Well…

When Donna awakens to find a bunch of foxes trapped in a cage in front of her house, she isn’t too happy

Quickly, she releases the animals and watches them scurry off

The next day, its pigeons, ten of them, their small legs tied to a stick they can’t seem to lift

Donna, with her heart beating worriedly, is quick to undo the string connecting them and watches as they fly off

What is happening?

Hmm, Cassandra thinks, it seems the doll maker isn’t fond of living things

No matter. Cassandra is thrilled by this!

No problem at all! Donna will love her next gift!

Well, not quite…instead the dollmaker is nearly petrified from her shock and fear when she opens her front door again and finds a large, dead wolf out front

It’s huge, and would make for a lot of lei in the village. The sight of it has her feel a little nauseous though

Then, it’s dead rats dropped at her windows at random times during the day

When one of them turns out to be alive, the otherwise mute dollmaker lets out a yelp, and quickly brings it to safety

After, it’s a whole lycan! She takes forever, even with the help of her dolls, to get rid of it

She screams hoarsely when she opens her garden door once and is face to face with the sharp teeth of a varcolac, dead with its mouth open and fangs bared for her

She shivers, though- she can make some good fortune on it

(Which she normally doesn’t need, though she likes to get herself flowers and materials on her own at times)

Yet the worst is to come, when she opens her front door one morning and finds a dead black bear out front

The poor thing is still warm…

Are these all threats?!, she wonders

Angie is barely any help, instead points out writing at the stomach of the large animal

She dares turn it over to read Cassandra’s message carved into the poor thing’s belly:

“I’ve got my eye on you”

Donna gulps

Daniela

She has been told she is delusional before. Once or twice, maybe

Ah, and what a silly thing to say it is!

Until…Daniela falls for the mysterious lady of the mountain and waterfall, lady Beneviento

Naturally, Donna must love her too, the youngest Dimitrescu daughter is under the impression everyone does

She just knows Donna is blushing under her veil when she sees her!

She goes with traditional courting methods

Flowers, dinner invitations, kisses, affection…

When Daniela appears behind Donna randomly as she works outside her house, she jumps so hard she drops her small hand shovel into the waterfall

She wonders, if this keeps up, will she fall down as a whole one time?

Daniela finds this hilarious. She giggles happily at it

Donna grasps her own chest, as though to catch her breath and stop panting

Daniela’s wild and fast movements do nothing to calm her

Then, flowers are thrust into her hand and a kiss is placed to her veiled cheek

Daniela giggles, her hands cupping Donna’s cheeks through the garment covering her face

“Don’t worry, my sweet, I’ll be back!”, she coos, teases

Then, Daniela swarms off, and leaves the dollmaker flustered, confused, and partially scared

This happens every day

Sometimes, Donna plants the flowers given to her. Sometimes she puts them in vases

They’re beautiful, even if Daniela’s wild nature has her on edge

She anticipates her visit every day, and yet is never prepared

Sometimes Daniela appears in her greenhouse. She doesn’t know how she comes in there

One time, she drops down from the roof when Donna steps outside

She nearly gives the doll maker a heart attack! Donna has instinctively called all her dolls…

And Angie stares and huffs as she watches Donna freeze when another kiss is just pressed to her cheek, while Daniela drops a crown made of leaves on top of her covered head…with her bare hands

…Donna wonders if the redhead knows its nettle leaves..ah, Daniela is bound to notice sometime. She swarms off before Donna can warn her- not that she would’ve been brave enough to speak up anyway

Often, her cheeks adapt a pink colour under the veil, and Donna absolutely panics whenever Daniela decides to randomly show affection

When she wraps her arms around the dollmaker one time as she kisses her cheek goodbye, Donna is certain this is the end

The grip is tight on the petite dollmaker, and yet she survives

Somehow

[siriuslygay1981]

Word count: 1,818 | Jegulus

Regulus was a weak weak man, how he became so feeble minded, he'll never know.

His eyes unconsciously trail over to the mop of brown hair that rests against the arm of the sofa. It had to be uncomfortable, he was sure the gryffindors neck would hurt for the rest of the day. He resists the urge to be soft and go get a pillow or something ridiculous.

Regulus slowly put his book down, not bothering to save his page, he didn't see the point. He probably wouldn't be back to finish the book anyways, which was a shame he had just gotten to the part where she rejected his proposal.

"You are mistaken, Mr.darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared the concern which i might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner…” he had murmured the words softly as he read it, careful not to speak too loudly with the faintly snoring boy next to him.

James had long since fallen asleep, his once gasping breaths now slow and even. James had somewhat acted how he expected when discovering the wretched truth..but he had surprised him in still staying. With the dark mark he knew he wouldn't make it out of this war alive..no matter what side won because he would not stay by the mad man he once idolized and the light side, as many called them, would surely never accept him, nor he them if he was honest. It was too much to get into so late in the war, he had chosen his side and he had no choice but to stick with it. He couldn't just switch sides as if this was some silly kids game.

He knew how the tattered book ended, he had read it a total of three times already. He remembers the first time, the late nights spent under his covers behind the closed curtains of his bed. Night after night he spent reading the pages, enraptured by the words that glided right off the page and pulled him in.

He remembers all the feelings that came with it.

The nights spent reading it had him longing for something, at first he couldn't place it but he knew what it was the second time around, the realization making him almost physically ill. He wasn't alone the second time through.

James would softly read the words to him as he swept his fingers gently up and down his arm leaving goosebumps behind and an aching burning need deep in his bones.

James didn't know how much power he had over Regulus, it was absolutely terrifying.

Sometimes it felt like he was bursting at the seams with the affection he held for the older boy

One night, as James was reading a chapter aloud, his hand absentmindedly running along his chest, he started to get closer to a certain passage.

Regulus’ already thumping heart seemed to speed up and stutter, his ears tuning into the deep voice.

He wasn't sure if he could handle james saying these next words, he gulped and looked up to the gryffindor who turned the page softly and continued. He glanced down at Regulus with a small smile, his voice lifting slightly.

Regulus let his eyes trail over the exposed skin before him. He trailed his eyes across the bump in his nose, his long eyelashes, his full lips, slowly trailing down to his throat and back up to the brown eyes he knew so well. He inhaled the scent that surrounded him, some earthy scent that always seemed to cling to the boy, like damp earth, sleekeazy’s, his cedar scented body wash.

His hearing tuned in again as if it knew the words were coming up

“You have bewitched me body and soul,-” he could hear James’ breath hitch as he read the next words, his mouth opening and closing before he continued to the next line

“and I love” he sounded breathless and Regulus could not for the life of him take his eyes off of him, his whole body attuning to James. He could barely exist in the same room with the stupid lovely boy, his heart raced, his mind blanked…he was a fool. A fool who just like the rest of Hogwarts, fell for the mischievous grin and large ego.

“I love, I love you.” his voice was husky and Merlin and Morgana both, Regulus was gone. He felt like he would physically spontaneously explode. Like all this…this thing inside of him was going to burst and he felt so overwhelmed, so full, he felt as if he was bathing in sunlight, the heated rays warming his body and heart. Anything James wanted…Regulus would do.

“And wish from this day forth never to be parted from you.” James paused, his eyes not leaving the book.

It was silent, tension filling the air.

Regulus slowly reached up for the book and immediately let it fall out of his hands and onto the floor, his body twisting as he sat up and removed his head from James’ lap. James frowned at the loss of contact but he zeroed in on regulus as he sat on his knees next to him.

Regulus reached forward his finger brushing against James’ cheek, like James couldn't help it, he sighed in content a shiver wracking his body.

Regulus let a small smile grace his lips, he never got over how responsive James was.

He cupped his face and rubbed his thumb over the beauty mark near his eye without really thinking about it.

James’ mouth parted, his eyes opening and staring at Regulus as if he was the only thing that mattered. He's sure neither would have noticed if the world was ending around them.

James leant forward, one hand coming up to grasp Regulus’ wrist

“Reg-”

He cut his memory off abruptly, he couldn't do this now. He softly lifts James’ feet off his lap and stretches.

He makes quick work of his last ends to be tied up. His mind drifted away and back as he wrote. He had to force himself to focus, begging himself to just get this over with. Dwelling on it longer than he had to only brought pain.

To the Dark Lord he starts, his hands trembling terribly.

I know I will be dead long before you read this. He resolutely didn't look at the sleeping form of James, he didn't dare let himself think of anyone else either.

but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.

Strong all consuming rage filled him. He had to do this. He was doing it…but he still hated the bastard. Regulus forces himself to calm down before he continues to write

I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more.

Gulping he dips his quill in some more ink before signing off.

R.A.B.

Angrily…he hopes the dark Lord figures out it was him….beneath that he hopes he never finds out.

He lets the note dry before shoving it into the fake locket and standing up. The heavy metal sets against his chest as he inhales a shaky breath. It burns against his skin, his heart thumps wildly.

“You have bewitched me body and soul” he murmurs as he kneels in front of the sleeping boy's form. He brushes a strand of hair out of James’ face, his heart aching as James’ nose scrunches up

“And I love…I love..i love you. And wish from this day forth never to be parted from you.” he murmurs the last bit almost sardonically

He stands up, ready to leave and meet his end-

A hand grabs his wrist as he turns causing him to gasp at the unexpected contact.

“Are you really trying to leave after confessing your love to me?” a incredulous raspy voice asks

Regulus purses his lips and begs the blush on his face isn't noticeable

“I don't know what you mean Potter” he almost cringes at how obvious he is.

He clears his throat and turns back to the now awake man

“Let go, i have places to be..” he tries to sound stern but it sounds weak to his ears

“No, i don't know what you plan on doing but I know you…and I know that you are about to do something stupid..i also know you will not be going alone.” James stands up slowly his hand never leaving Regulus’ wrist

“I'm not taking you with me, James.” he whispers

He keeps his face blank, his eyes hard, he tries to sound stern. His voice wavering betrays him though.

He's afraid.

James softens slightly but shakes his head and grabs both of Regulus’ hands

“I'm not giving you a choice. You're not going alone”

Regulus glares at James and tugs his hands free, suddenly very angry.

“I'm not giving you a choice James Potter, i'm going.” he gulps at James’ expression and barely stops himself from reaching out

“Kreacher will be with me, i won't be alone.” he adds because he's weak

“Not enough-” James says harshly “That's not enough. I'm coming with you.”

They stare into each other's eyes neither wanting to back down. Regulus scowls, his eyebrows pinching together. James stays still, determined not to lose. Regulus was surprised at James' determination, usually he would have given up by now. Giving into Regulus’ harsh gaze, not wanting to push Regulus away or make him upset.

Regulus goes over a dozen stunning spells in his mind as James stares at him both pleadingly and sternly He crumbles for a moment, his face scrunching up in despair.

“Please.” he whispers hoarsely

Regulus is a terribly weak man. His walls crumble to the floor, his heart clenching painfully. Against everything he knows he should do…he wants to agree. He likes to think it took him longer than a split second before answering.

“Ok”

the word is out of his mouth before he can fully decide but by then it's too late. He's sure it would've ended this way no matter what he did, James potter made him a weak man and it shows. Mostly when that blinding smiles hits regulus and his knees almost give out

He lets out a shaky breath, his eyes glued to the brightly smiling man in front of him.

“But if you don't do as I say…I'll stun you and tie you up before leaving you in the forbidden forest-” he spits out viciously

James just brushes one of his curls out of his face tucking it behind his ear, a soft smile on his lips.

“Alright..” he murmurs

His hand stays there unreasonably long, neither notice.

[randomfoggytiger]

Scully and Matters of the Heart: S1-4

Scully's thoughts on love and relationships.

Fire

So, she shows up knowing the power she has over you and then she makes you walk through fire, is that it? ...Mulder, are you sure you don't need me to help you out on this one?

Gender Bender

Hard to imagine in this day and age someone having sex with a perfect stranger.

Lazarus

We dated for almost a year.... But it was always hard for Jack to relax, it was impossible for him, really. He was always so intense, so relentlessly determined.

Tooms

Mulder, I wouldn't put myself on the line for anyone else but you.

One Breath

Mulder? I had the strength of your beliefs.

Firewalker

["He stopped taking his pills. Yeah, he said that they were polluting his brain. And, he said I was polluting his body.... I just want to go home, now."]

Where's home?

["Anywhere but here."]

Aubrey

Things must be difficult for you now. I've had... feelings for people I've worked with. Inner-office relationships can be complicated-- especially when he's married.

Fearful Symmetry

["Whatever... connection he and I had was over long ago."]

But you asked him, anyway. To help you.

D.P.O.

Well, you don't have to be afraid anymore. You and your husband are safe as long as we can count on your testimony.

The List

Woman gets lonely. Sometimes she can't wait around for a man to get reincarnated.

2Shy

You're more than a monster: you didn't just feed on their bodies, you fed on their minds.

War of the Coprophages

Her name is Bambi? ...Her name is Bambi?

Syzygy

["Must be Detective White."]

If that's the reason we're sticking around, that's your business.

Jose Chung's From Outer Space

["...For, although Diana Leski is noble of spirit and pure at heart, she remains, nevertheless, a federal employee."]

Avatar

["He lives under this misguided notion that silence is strength. He's built a wall to keep everyone out."]

Including you?

["Especially me."]

Is that why you were separated?

Home

["I can tell you don't have no children. Maybe one day you'll learn the pride... the love."]

Unruhe

Why did your sister kill herself, Gerry? What did your father do to her?

The Field Where I Died

["Dana, if um... early in the four years we've been working together, an event occurred that suggested or if somebody told you that we'd been friends together... in other lifetimes, always... would it have changed the ways we looked at one another?"]

Even if I knew for certain, I wouldn't change a day.

Paper Hearts

["You do this full-time-- telling people this kind of news?"]

No, sir, not full-time.

El Mundo Gira

He didn't kill her, Mulder.... Mulder, I know you don't want to hear this, but I think the aliens in this story are not the villains but the victims.

Never Again

This circle: it usually starts when an authoritative or controlling figure comes into my life; and part of me likes it-- needs it, wants the approval-- but then at a certain point along the way I just... y'know.

Memento Mori

For the first time, I feel time like a heartbeat: the seconds pumping in my breast like a reckoning. The numinous mysteries that once seemed so distant and unreal threatening clarity in the presence of a truth entertained not in youth but only in its passage. I feel these words as if their meaning were weight being lifted from me, knowing that you will read them and share my burden as I have come to trust no other. That you should know my heart-- look into it, finding there the memory and experience that belong to you, that are you-- is a comfort to me now as I feel the tethers loose....

Kaddish

And through all this he hid the ring?

["Even after the war, he hid it. Even from my mother."]

Why?

["Because to him it was a dead relic from a forgotten place. Until the day I told him I was getting married; and for the first time in fifty years, he took out this ring. He said he felt his village was being born again. He knew how much I loved Isaac."]

Unrequited

Mulder, what she has is a simple... hemorrhage brought on by her emotional state.

Max

["Can I buy you a drink?"]

No, it's okay-- I'm with somebody.

Synchrony

Lisa, if you're leaving anything out-- if you're hedging the truth, you could be held accountable if Jason committed a crime.

Small Potatoes

No, I'm seeing a whole new side of you, Mulder.

["Is that a good thing?"]

I like it.

Elegy

I mean, maybe in some drug-addled way she was trying to kill happiness-- Harold's happiness. His love for those women. Trying to destroy something she never thought she'd have again.

Demons

["Why shoot herself and her husband?"]

I can't say definitively; but judging from an almost identical suicide... I believe that the victims were suffering....

Gethsemane

Hey, look, just because I haven't bared my soul to you or to Father McCue or to God doesn't mean I'm not responsible to what's important to me.

["To what? To who? This guy Mulder?"]

Thank you for reading~ Enjoy!

[simlit]

Chosen of the Sun | | forest // seventy-six

| @maladi777

next / previous / beginning

KYRIE: Your voice truly is a gift. It’s beautiful. ASTER: A lot of people say so. KYRIE: But it’s true. Is it wrong to say it? ASTER: Of course not, I love compliments! KYRIE: I wonder, what inspired your lyrics? ASTER: Oh, you know. Life experience, daily observations, a particularly rowdy night at the tavern... Anything and everything is good fodder for a story! I expect one day I’ll write a ballad about these trials. I’ll have to, uh, embellish on some of the details, the parts where I daringly defied all odds, escaped many harrowing deaths, and performed various feats of extraordinary strength and bravery to claim a mighty victory. KYRIE: You mean lie. ASTER: Now, now, we all have our preferred vocabulary. KYRIE: Well, suppose there’s a good chance you needn’t. That could all still happen, after all. ASTER: Certainly! Well, all except that last bit, but really, who needs to know that? It’s not like anyone is keeping score. …Are they? KYRIE: Past winners often experience a period of revelry, if they choose to stick around long enough. Local winners see the most favor. They’re treat like celebrities for a little while, but are ultimately forgotten to the passage of time. ASTER: Nothing really lasts forever, does it? KYRIE: But you know, you could win it all. I don’t see any reason the gods shouldn’t pick you. ASTER: Ah, don’t be silly Your Grace. KYRIE: I’m not— ASTER: I’m not cut out for all this ceremonial business, anyways! But you know, if you ever wanted to learn to play a mean lute, I am certainly your guy. KYRIE: Oh, to be Aster Songleaf’s protégé. ASTER: A position to aspire to! KYRIE: laughs If I’m honest, I hardly think I’m an artist. Rather, I enjoy to listen to others. I admire your talent greatly, but if it’s all the same to you, I think I’m more than happy just being able to hear you perform. As far as talents of my own, well, there is one thing… ASTER: I’m on tenterhooks, Dear Priest! Always keen to see a new parlor trick. KYRIE: It’s a good trick. ASTER: I don’t doubt it, but are you certain you should be out of bed, Your Grace? KYRIE: It’ll be good for me. Join me, won’t you?

[jihyocentric]

https://www.tumblr.com/jihyocentric/705445290222714880/so-im-sure-im-not-alone-in-wanting-to-see-a

This jeongmohyo where momo is at work and jeongyeon sends her a video of jihyo giving her a titjob and momo is basically hard the rest of the day. To her surprise when she gets home jeongyeon is still there and absolutely pounding into a completely fucked out jihyo who is basically just babling at this point. Jeongyeon commands her to sit and watch till its her turn

thank you for the link! continuation of this

momo gets stuck at work during the weekend and she thinks this might be some sort of punishment for depriving her wife of her company. she’s not around, but jeongyeon is.

since the first time jeongyeon tagged along with them for something more intimate than just having a few drinks together, momo has been coming to terms with her taste for watching jihyo getting fucked by someone else.

she’s always with a hard on when she peers at them and gets completely ignored by her wife and jeongyeon. it’s as if she’s not even there and momo secretly loves it. it stirs momo up how jihyo easily tumbles into orgasms when she’s in jeongyeon’s hands, how easily jeongyeon breaks her apart.

momo’s fists tighten under her desk when she receives a message from jeongyeon with a video attached to it. she has seen jihyo when she’s worn out before, when all jihyo can think about is being jammed with cock, but momo has never seen her this broken.

jihyo cries, every single drop falling to her chest and getting mixed with the glistening layer of spit. momo hardens when jihyo squeezes her tits around jeongyeon’s shaft, stammering a small ‘please’, as if asking jeongyeon to fuck them instead of making her do the work.

she cries because no matter how long she’s been there with the warmth of her breasts engulfing jeongyeon’s cock, working her up to get her load, jihyo couldn’t make jeongyeon come. jeongyeon pulls her face away when jihyo tries to lick the peeking head, a haughty sneer playing on her face.

“bet you regret missing this, momorin,” jeongyeon taunts, fist grasping a hold of jihyo’s head by the hair, making jihyo look right into the camera. momo’s cock twitches inside her pants and she has to cross her legs to hide the bulge. “your little slut is a try hard, ‘d you know that? she can’t stop until i cum in her. is she always like this?”

momo lets out a whimper when jeongyeon makes jihyo hold her own tits around her thick shaft, pounding into the tight passage, just like jihyo wanted her to. momo could almost feel the smooth warmth herself, hips bucking automatically when jeongyeon took off, fucking her tits.

but then the video ends, leaving momo high and dry behind her work desk, forced to come back to her senses and get back to work despite having an aching tent in her pants.

momo only gets home once she’s sure she finished all the tasks given to her. that was the main reason why she wasn’t at home, with her wife, on a saturday. and she refused to go to work on a sunday, so everything had to be perfect.

she didn’t expect to find jeongyeon still there, as it was already night and jeongyeon didn’t usually stick around for too long, but the moment momo locks the door behind her, she can hear jihyo’s wanton moans and the sound of skin clapping resounding through the house.

the hard on she got earlier had chipped away after forcing herself to focus on her paperwork, but when she hears them it comes back, and way harder than before. momo immediately drops her things, stumbling as she rushes to their room, finding jeongyeon pounding into jihyo from behind.

jihyo could hardly hold herself up, so jeongyeon had to place a couple pillows under her hips, keeping her ass up for her to use. momo pulses in her boxers, standing far enough to get a nice view of them. jihyo doesn’t notice she’s there yet, but jeongyeon has a smile on her face when she peeks at momo.

none of them say a word, momo and jeongyeon trying to catch on what jihyo was trying to say, but they can’t understand anything aside from the pleas for jeongyeon to fuck her. jihyo babbles mindlessly, gripping at the sheets as she cried out, face red with a light mark of jeongyeon’s hand imprinted on her cheek.

momo has known about jihyo’s fondness for being spanked. sometimes they'd play around that, but never going too far. with jeongyeon, it seemed jihyo got starving for it, begging to receive some slaps across her thighs, ass, even on her face.

reminding that jihyo enjoyed being jeongyeon’s pet and going as far as getting spanked on the face always left momo jealous, as jihyo never did such things with her. rough sex was recurring with both of them, but jihyo was the most submissive with jeongyeon.

“take a sit, momorin,” jeongyeon rasps, stomach tightening when jihyo clenches around her, apparently aware that momo was there. “i didn’t take her pussy. ‘s all yours when i’m done.”

momo grunts at that, knowing jihyo might be desperate to have something filling her pussy up, and she was craving to bury herself inside jihyo. momo sits on a chair that had been intentionally placed next to the bed, rolling the zipper of her pants down, releasing her shaft from the straining clothes.

momo licks her lips as she pulls her pants down along with the boxers, never looking away from them.

“let me join,” momo husks, drawing jeongyeon’s attention. “please, been like this all day ‘cause of you.”

“but what’s the fun in giving what you want?” jeongyeon muses, pace slowing down.

she keeps her cock deep inside jihyo’s ass, making her whine for more, wanting jeongyeon to move, trying to fuck herself on the cock lodged up inside her. jeongyeon coos, amused. after many rounds of sex, jihyo was still greedy for more.

“we can be both inside.” momo pleads, fist firm around her flushed cock, needing a release badly. “she’ll love this.”

“you will love this,” jeongyeon scoffs. momo pouts, nearly crying, knowing she’d wait too long until jeongyeon came to be inside jihyo, her own wife. “c’mere, then.”

momo gets up, a breath of relief escaping from her lips when jeongyeon takes pity on her. jeongyeon doesn’t pull out, raising jihyo’s hips so she could throw the pillows somewhere else then making jihyo lay on her side to give momo some access.

“can i?” momo asks jihyo, earning a mindless ‘yes’, jihyo barely aware of what she’s being asked, too fucked out to understand. she places jihyo’s leg over her hipbone, notching the tip of her cock inside jihyo with ease, the younger of the three drenched with cum and slick. “so fucking good,” momo grunts.

“good girl,” jeongyeon praises, lips next to jihyo's ear. jihyo closes her eyes, humming at the praise, head tucked in momo’s neck as she felt her wife sink inside. “look so pretty taking us, hyo.”

the pleasure is blinding once momo is fully in and jihyo mewls, nails sinking down momo’s back as they take off together. momo’s pace is rowdy, desperate, and jeongyeon has to match it, pulling out until only the tip was inside and then filling her ass when momo wasn’t all the way in jihyo’s pussy.

jihyo shudders as an orgasm hits her for the nth time, jeongyeon’s fingers rolling over her sensitive clit, biting down momo’s shoulders as she tightens around them. momo nears the edge entirely too soon, being squeezed by jihyo’s walls and jeongyeon’s cock, that was only separated from hers due to a thin wall.

“fuck, can’t hold it,” momo whines, gripping jihyo’s waist tight as she fucks into her with wild abandon, hot cum spurting deep inside jihyo, reaching her peak sooner than she would normally allow herself to.

“that fast?” jeongyeon teases, pulling out. she wanted to release her built up pleasure somewhere else. “look at me, hyo.”

momo pulls out, letting jihyo lay on her back to glance up at jeongyeon, who was kneeling next to her. jihyo can hardly get ready, jeongyeon’s load coating her cheeks and neck, a thick, warm essence leaving her even messier.

momo doubts jihyo has any power in her body to take them again, but she grows hard again with what she sees, cock standing tall against her belly as jeongyeon uses her wife’s face as a cum dump.

jeongyeon coos, ogling momo’s growing erection. “need some help, momorin?”

jihyo giggles, slightly dizzy but still conscious, and momo swallows hard at the suggestion, her pride vanishing when she reminds of the feeling of having jeongyeon inside her.

[romanoffsbish]

Love is a Dagger

Kate Bishop x GN!Reader

Warning: No Happy Ending | 740 Words

"Love is a dagger..., It's a weapon to be wielded far away or up close. You can see yourself in it. It's beautiful until it makes you bleed. But ultimately, when you reach for it...."

——————————————————————

It’d been obvious to you for awhile now that the holder of your heart was pulling away from you, that the once flourishing love you two had was nothing more than a pile of rubbish.

What hurt most was that it wasn’t someone else that caught her eye, it was simply the loss of interest in you. Something you’d always expected, it’s all you’d ever known really, how to be everyone’s favorite fall back person. Everyone knew that they could count on you, but when you looked around a room full of your peers you didn’t have the same luxury.

————

————

Kate, your greatest love, had been that person for quite some time now, until she too realized the world had so much more to offer her. You were simply her stepping stone to finding what she truly deserved, and that was the world…

Tears befell your cheeks as you sat in a booth with your now cold tea between your hands. Kate’s laughter filled the establishment, and your heart clenched knowing it wasn’t you that caused it, and it hadn’t been you for awhile. The youthful archer was stood in the center of the club, dancing with her friends, and living it up while you sat at the table watching the bags.

Tonight was the night you planned to leave, and Kate was none the wiser as she held a conversation with everyone here besides you. There wasn’t intentionality in her movement either, no purposeful malice, she just forgot you exist, and truth be told that was even worse. Being invisible had perks too, you listened as she boasted about how her life was going, all the promising things she has to look forward to that she never shares with you, and that seemingly didn’t hold room for you either. That bit of information made you secure in your decisions to leave; she’d be quite alright.

After the party began to go from fun to messy you somehow reigned Kate’s crazy form in. Ensuring her friends had safe passage home before carrying her out of the club, and then again into her townhome in Upper Manhattan. Sticking to the routine you bathed the woman, then got her snuggled into the bed before taking up the right side of the mattress until you were certain her breathing evened out.

Slipping out of bed was easy, the body that once clung to you like you were a lifeline now faced away from you, creating a space as if she were likely to be burned if she’d felt you. Fortunately for you she was far too drunk to hear you scuffling around the shared space, collecting your sparing belongings as you prepared to make your grand departure. This being the exact reason you chose tonight to leave, because even though the love was gone, you knew the dependency was strong, and she’d have pleaded with you to stay even when her entire being was screaming at you to go.

There was nothing left here for either of you, setting her free from the chain that was you weighing her down was a show of true mercy. For a final time you sat beside her on the bed, careful not to wake her up as you admired her sleeping features, and pushed her hair behind her ears., “I’ll love you for as long my heart still hammers within my chest KitKat, but I can’t stay, and watch as you continue to forget me.,” you settled a kiss to her temple, missing the way her lips reflexively upturned at the action.

Too hard to see through your tears perhaps…

You locked the door as you left, then slid the key right back in through the mail slot, you no longer needed it, this was never truly your home. As you walked away you reckoned you never really had one, and that bitter reminder fueled your desire to make one of your own. One free of the societal standards of what it should be, devoid of a life outside of your own, with no one else’s laughter there to fill the void.

Because, if life has taught you anything, it’s that people always leave, and that love, well…

——————————————————————

“…It isn’t real.”

——————————————————————

Love is a Learning Curve (P2)

[greyennui]

Q&A for Anger is but Passion Borne of Love

@waterho-writes and I can still hardly believe how much love and support we've gotten on this Bowuigi fic, so we want to thank y'all for sticking around on this journey! We're only about halfway through the story, and we can't wait for y'all to read the rest.

Below the cut is the Q&A with all your questions. Enjoy!

Q: Did Mario and Luigi come from Earth like in canon or have they always been in the fantasy world?

It’s a passing mention in Chapter 1, but Mario and Luigi grew up in an orphanage that still sends them a monthly stipend (allowance). They’ve always been a part of this Regency-era Mushroom Kingdom, but are still outcasts in a way.

Q: Is Luigi allergic to flowers?

Not all flowers, just the really pollen-y and smelly ones (like lilies).

Q: How tall are Luigi and Bowser?

Luigi is 5’8” (~172cm) and Bowser is 6’4” (~193cm) For a visual reference:

Q: What happened at the trial?

Keep reading to find out!

Q: Are we gonna get Bowuigi smut??

Waterho: There will absolutely be smut. GreyEnnuigi can only stop me for so long. 😈 GreyEnnuigi: Don’t worry; the Explicit Sexual Content and Dom/sub tags are not just for show (and note that we did not add the Rape/Non-con archive warning). Consensual spicy times will come! And so will Bowser and Luigi!

Q: Could you give a summary of the smut in the chapter notes if it’s plot-relevant?

The smut will be plot-relevant at some points, so we can definitely do this.

Q: Will Luigi get his own emotional support animal for his anxiety (like Polterpup)?

Waterho: Does Bowser count as an emotional support animal? GreyEnnuigi: We haven’t planned for a Polterpup in this story, as there’s already a fair bit going on plotwise. Putting a dog into the mix might well and truly throw us off the rails. ;)

Q: Will Luigi be able to overcome his anxiety? I want to see Luigi put someone in their place after they insulted him.

Luigi actually does this during the announcement dinner in Chapter 8 in this exchange with Lord Booking: Lord Booking paled a bit, his mouth turning into a slight frown. “Indeed. Such a delicate flower must be hidden away, for exposure to that world would surely wither it.” […] [Luigi] straightened himself up, still holding Lord Koopa’s hand open in both of his own, then addressed Lord Booking directly: “Some flowers may thrive in the shade and wilt in the sun, but it does not make them any less a part of this world, Lord Booking.” Lord Booking is implying that Bowser is hiding Luigi away because he’s a commoner in a noble’s world and can’t handle the change. Luigi’s response is essentially, “Yeah, I’m a commoner and I’ve lived my life differently, but that doesn’t mean I don’t belong here.” Don’t worry, we like character growth in this house. ;) GreyEnnuigi: On the same sort of subject, if you ever have questions about the fancy Regency language, don’t be afraid to ask! It’s very flowery and can be complicated, especially if English isn’t your first language. I’d be happy to “translate” any passages for you into modern English.

Q: Is there going to be a good or bad ending?

There is going to be a happy ending! This is a fairytale retelling, after all. ;)

Q: You started this fic as a joke, but now it’s not a joke anymore. How did that conversation happen?

A few things to note before we answer this: 1. GreyEnnuigi has wanted to write a Regency AU for a while. 2. We saw the Mario movie together and started reading Bowuigi fics because we couldn’t get enough. 3. We noticed that a lot of Bowuigi fics had a Beauty and the Beast theme. With that out of the way, here’s the transcript of how that conversation played out over text messages: 22:48 Waterho Ok hear me out 22:49 Waterho Bowuigi Beauty and the beast set in a regency setting 22:49 GreyEnnuigi omg wait haha 22:49 GreyEnnuigi but like 22:49 GreyEnnuigi is Bowser still koopa 22:50 GreyEnnuigi or is he big beefcake human 22:50 Waterho Big beefcake human obviously 22:50 GreyEnnuigi excellent 22:51 Waterho The more I fall down the bowuigi hole, the more I feel like I gotta try my hand at it lmao 22:51 Waterho That movie changed me [sparkles emoji] 22:51 GreyEnnuigi bro the URGE i have had this week 22:51 GreyEnnuigi it's undeniable 22:51 Waterho Why are we like this 22:52 GreyEnnuigi i prefer not to ask questions like that 22:52 GreyEnnuigi BUT LISTEN 22:52 Waterho This was a children’s movie why did they have to make The Scene so spicy 22:52 GreyEnnuigi if you can give me plot and conflict and incidents 22:52 Waterho Listening 22:52 GreyEnnuigi i will write that shit 22:53 GreyEnnuigi i have too many plots I'm thinking about rn but if you can give me an outline I'll do the rest [relieved face emoji] 23:04 Waterho [drops a 5-paragraph summary of the first chapter and main plot points] 23:04 GreyEnnuigi omg that was quick 23:04 GreyEnnuigi okay I'm reading 23:06 GreyEnnuigi eheheh yes I like this 23:06 Waterho Excellent After that conversation we kept feeding each other ideas and plot points and then GreyEnnuigi was writing it and Waterho kept coming up with more scenes and now here we are.

Q: What is it like making a chapter for this fic?

Waterho: basically, I supply the maladaptive daydreaming, and GreyEnnuigi supplies the prose and structure. Then we add it up and try to create a somewhat cohesive narrative. Many of our conversations these days start with “ok listen….” GreyEnnuigi: We have the overall plot planned out and most of it outlined, so we already know what main plot events we want to happen in each chapter. After that it’s a matter of filling the rest of the chapter by fleshing out the characters, doing a bit of worldbuilding, and making sure we’re progressing all the relationships properly. This usually happens with Waterho proposing a specific scenario, then we ask ourselves how this and that character would react and does that fit with the plot, and then we agree on how the situation unfolds. Then I write it all out, Waterho tries to convince me to add fluff and smut too early, I rein it back in and write something more subtle, and then we review, edit, and post. Here’s an example of this sort of back-and-forth from our chat transcript: 23:00 GreyEnnuigi thinking I'm gonna start chapter 3 with Kamek confronting Bowser about Luigi, but what else should happen in ch 3 after that 23:00 Waterho Let’s see the part where bowser [redacted for spoiler reasons] 23:01 GreyEnnuigi ooh so soon?? 23:02 Waterho If we want to draw it out more we could push that part off 23:02 GreyEnnuigi i just don't want Bowser to be too soft at the beginning 23:02 GreyEnnuigi Luigi needs to wear him down first lol 23:02 Waterho Fair enough

Q: Is this fic definitely going to have 20 chapters?

With what we currently have planned and outlined, 20 chapters is our best estimate for how long the story will be. It’s very possible this will change, and if it does, it’s more likely that we’ll end up with more than 20 chapters as opposed to less.

Q: Is there a schedule for uploading chapters?

We don’t currently have a schedule and we’re just posting the chapters as we finish them. That being said, we’ve been on a pace of about 1 chapter every other day. That could definitely change, though, so don’t expect us to stick to that.

Q: In this world hetero is not seen as the default. Did you write it this way because you didn’t want to focus on the homosexuality topic but more on the Bowser/Luigi ship itself?

Short answer: Yes. Long answer: The concept of homosexuality being accepted in this AU came about as we were discussing the reason Bowser would accept Luigi in exchange for Peach as a spouse. If we were to follow realistic Regency-era ideologies, then it would be extremely unlikely for Bowser to take Luigi as a spouse as he is (i.e. a cis man). We wanted to follow the Beauty and the Beast storyline, which at its core is our protagonist falling in love with someone who is widely regarded as unlovable. It wouldn’t have made sense to include homophobia in the plot, and that wasn’t the story we wanted to tell. Also, the beauty of fiction is that we can make our own rules and do whatever the hell we want with it, so we did!

Q: Who’s who??

Luis Walbright: Waluigi Thomas Kamek: Kamek Kammy Magis: Kammy George Morton: Morton (Koopaling) Lemarcus Swift: Lemmy (Koopaling) Laurence Ripley: Larry (Koopaling) Lord William Booking: King Boo Ellord Elvin Booking: Professor E. Gadd Lady Daisy Sarasa: Daisy Ellady Rosalina Sarasa: Rosalina Lord Henry Toadsworth: Toadsworth Ellady Etta Toadsworth: Toadette Lady Birdie Pirah: Birdo Ellord Peter Pirah: Petey Piranha John Tannock (tailor): Tanuki (maker of Tanuki suits) Lord Robert Ombler: King Bob-Omb Ellady Sylvia Ombler: Sylvia (Paper Mario: TTYD) Lord Lionel & Ellady Catherine Graham: GreyEnnuigi made these up, but their names are basically animal crackers (Lion & Kitty + Graham) for no reason other than it amused them Ignatius Hopper: Iggy (Koopaling) Wendy Carter: Wendy (Koopaling) Gustav Ember: Goomba (general, no specific character) (note: Waterho still maintains that the Goomba should have been named Barry Ragoon) (note: GreyEnnuigi still maintains that it's best if GreyEnnuigi remains in charge of naming the characters in this fic)

Q: If we were to make fanart for this fic, where should we tag y’all to let you know?

We would be honored if you wanted to make fan art for our fic! If you do, tag @greyennui and @waterho-writes on Tumblr, and you can also use the fic’s tag #Anger is but Passion Borne of Love