#large sanitary pads

[kquil]

POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS PRT.7

07 : APOLOGIES & COMFORT

CHPT. SUM. : sirius and remus are both very stubborn and need you to help them make amends, thankfully james is there

REQUEST. : could i request a hurt/comfort blurb with poly!marauders in the heroes in tattoos series where r is having really bad cramps and they comfort her- maybe when they're busy with clients and she doesn't want to disturb them but they notice? - requested by an anon (i had to make some tweaks, i hope you don't mind, my darling)

TAGS. : modern au, muggle au, tattoo artist!sirius black ; tattoo artist!james potter ; piercer!remus lupin ; hurt/comfort ; fluff ; mvp james ; james becomes a menace though so is he really the mvp? ; wolfstar fluff ; making up ; reader is also an mvp ; accidents happen ; period things~ ; remus is on the brink ; somebody save this man! ; no! somebody save reader from this man! ; assumes that reader does not take medication to regulate her periods ; assumes that reader wears sanitary pads for her periods

LENGTH : 4.3k

← PREV. : 06 | SELFISH DESIRES | SERIES M.LIST

“Sirius…” Remus sighs as he sits across from you and the man in question. 

“If you have a problem, I hope you know that I don’t care,” you feel the tattooist smirk against your temple as he presses another searing kiss into your skin. The tension from the room hasn’t fully dissipated yet, however, most of the fiction was swept aside leaving the air clear enough for a more civil conversation. 

With Sirius’ insistence, you were left no choice but to sit in his lap as Remus sits across from you. This left James to sit all on his lonesome, occupying the grandfather chair to your left as a warm smile reveals his asymmetrical dimple, directed solely at you. 

Remus groans in frustration and stands to his full height in order to pull his sleeveless sweater off. Sirius peppers light kisses along the column of your neck but it isn’t quite enough to distract you from the image of Remus undoing the top buttons of his button-up shirt nor the way he rolls up the sleeves to his elbows - a weak attempt at trying to cool down from the heat of the previous encounter. 

You’re tempted to look down once again but are too embarrassed to do so; the images that pervade your mind are too inappropriate and they taint the gentle and kind image you have of Remus… Although, maybe that isn’t too bad. A gentle giant masking an indelicate second face was quite attractive in your eyes. Maybe he’ll finally suit the rouge-ish image that comes to mind when you take in his many tattoos, which were often suppressed by his soft, dark academia-inspired fashion. 

Massaging away some of the tension in his taut wrists, his large and veiny hands on full display, Remus sits back down with a frown, “This is a fucking mess—”

“—you’re a fucking mess,” Sirius shoots back, a mischievous hint in his tone as the heat in your cheeks continue to increase until you’re positive you have steam steadily rising out of your ears. 

“This is serious, Sirius,” Remus calls his name almost mockingly and the icy stare Sirius sends him in return is so icy you feel the chill run down your spine without having to look. 

“Oh, I am serious, don’t you know who I am?” before the tension could rise to dangerous levels again, you launch yourself off of Sirius’ lap, willing the butterflies from your stomach away and suppressing all imagery of the affection Sirius was just drowning you. It was his attempt at distracting you from the tense situation but you’re fed up of it now. It also breaks your heart seeing them like this when you know their true affections for one another.  

“That’s enough!” you stand as strong as the finality ringing in your statement, “you two need to make up!” Remus and Sirius face the point of your accusing finger with disgruntled expressions, “I thought you two loved each other,” your disappointed tone makes their shoulders sag in shame and their eyes avoid one another’s. 

“Dove, please—”

“—Listen…” the careful intonation in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed and wills them to hear you out with care, lips sealed shut, “you were both right — you both had good reason to act the way you did and I can’t blame either of you for wanting to steer things into a certain direction but I’m also to blame for this, okay? I was horrible at communicating my true emotions and that led to a lot of unnecessary heartache on both sides,” with a deep breath, you establish your resolve, “can’t we all just make up and move forward together?” everyone in the room knows that when you said ‘we’, what you really meant was just Remus and Sirius. 

James has been an absolute angel throughout all of this, collateral damage to their bickering and unloving behaviour towards each other; stuck between a rock and a hard place. You only have sympathy for him being caught up in the middle of it all.  

“Dove, it’s not—”

You swiftly interrupt, “I love all of you,” your confession makes them all stutter and flush pink in the cheeks. It’s an image that makes you smile warmly just before insecurity creeps over and your smile turns shy, “don’t… don’t you love me too?…” it was now clear in their actions that they reciprocated your romantic affections and so you weren’t wrong to assume that they wanted you to take part in their relationship…right?

The drawn out silence that followed was too much for you to bear. Even after taking some of the blame off their shoulders and confessing your love, they were still too stubborn to admit their wrongs and make up. Huffing, you make your disappointment and frustrations known with a deep frown, thoroughly concealing your heartache from their silence .

“We just need—” Sirius finally begins, stubborn as ever, only to be glared at harshly by both, Remus and James. This was not the right time for excuses. You had just worded your true feelings for them and they needed to reciprocate in kind. But those words were hard to come by, the timing for a confession also wasn’t ideal for the moment. Then again, when would it ever be. They’ve all just proven how incompetent they were at emotions despite being in such a loving relationship, and yet, you were still willing to accept and be with them romantically. The words they have for you reached beyond that of just love; they were also grateful, astonished and embarrassed for their incompetence. 

“I love you too, angel, so so much,” James finally speaks up, eyes bright and his smile warm with his adoration of you. He ignores the high tension in the room, eyes fixed solely on you as he glowed like the summer sun but he doesn’t reach out for you in any way, he simply sits and admires. Admires how beautiful you look, admires how strong you are, admires how loving and sweet you remain despite all the trouble and anguish they’ve put you through.  

You feel the world disappear around you and narrow your focus onto the only person you were grateful for in the room at that moment. Year heart pounds with warmth and devotion and all you want to do is be close to him. Helping yourself into James’ lap, you smile up at the bewildered look on this handsome face, “Oh James, you’re my only saving grace,”

James smiles at your words as his arms wrap around your waist, securing you in place, “yeah?” his voice is a faint whisper and airy with his adoration for you. 

“Yeah,” reaching up, your arms wrap around his neck and pull him close so you can press your face under his chin. Behind you, you feel the baffled attention of Sirius and Remus, “how about I feed you some lunch again? Like we always used to do?”

Without waiting for an answer, you lean over to swipe up one of your lunch containers and proceed to feed him, completely ignoring the grumbling and whining emitting from Sirius and Remus. 

“I like your thinking, angel,” James giggles adorably and happily accepts your affections as the two of you silently agree to ignore the other two until they make up. In the mean time, you’ll enjoy each other’s company in your own little bubble of love. 

“How does it taste?” you ask sweetly, blatantly ignoring Remus and Sirius, sitting side-ways on James’ lap but keeping your full attention on him. 

“Delicious! More than delicious!” James exaggerates and basks in the bell-like giggles he draws from you, he doesn’t want the sound to ever stop, “You’re always such a great cook, angel!”

“I made it all with love, just for you, Jamie~”

He hums low and appreciative, “I’m so fucking lucky, aren’t I?” 

As you continue to feed him, James takes the opportunity to look over your shoulder and smirk at the miserable faces of his two lovers. They know they deserved this unfair treatment. They also know that, to remedy it, all they have to do is abandon their pride and apologise, which is always worth it when your love is on the line — it should be easy for them. All things considered, this was just light punishment.

Faced with only one solution, Remus and Sirius turn to each other. Sirius still grumbles under his breath as Remus sighs. The brunette accepts that it was entirely his fault for pushing Sirius to suppress his natural way of loving just for his own personal fear that things would turn out horribly, otherwise. And judging from the way Sirius avoids his eyes and continues to whine, Remus knows it’s up to him to make amends. 

‘But it’s not so bad’, Remus smiles to himself; seeing one of his beloved partners grumpy and stubborn was oddly charming. And now that most of the conflict has dissolved, Remus had no other reason to hold back an apology other than for his own personal pride. 

Making his way over, Remus kneels down beside his grumbling lover and whispers his name affectionately, “Sirius,” Remus waits, patient and unhurried, until his beloved in question finally looks at him. As soon as they meet eyes, Remus is left thinking the same devoted thought he’s always had when drowning in his boyfriend’s diamond-grey eyes, ‘how did I get so lucky?’ which is then quickly followed by a guilty, ‘why did I ever let it get this far?’

“Remus,” 

“I’m sorry,” the piercer doesn’t wait for a response and, almost desperately, leans up to capture Sirius’ lips. The kiss is filled with emotions, a mix of sincerity, love and forgiveness. The sentiments were so keen they almost smother the murmured, unspoken words on Sirius’ tongue, “what was that, love?” Remus asks against his lover’s lips, unable to pull away fully. He missed this…

“I’m sorry too…”

It was a unanimous decision to have you spend the night at the boys’ shared flat. They’ve been kept away from you for too long and tonight they wanted to make up for lost time. High on emotions and desperately missing their presence in your life too, you agree as long as you dropped by your place first for a change of clothes. But not before having Remus and Sirius apologise to James for their neglect of him. 

“You know, we really are so happy to have you in our lives, dollface,” Sirius utters, leaving feathery kisses on your lips as he pushes the door to their flat open whilst carrying your duffle bag for you. He was kind enough to take you to and from your flat on his motorcycle just for the quick collection of your night time essentials. 

“I’m happy you’re in my life too, Siri,” the situation has finally dawned on you but you still can’t believe the events that have lead you to this very moment. 

“Stop hogging her, Padfoot!” James whines, sweeping you off your feet and hurrying to the living room with you in his arms. Once there, he sits you on his lap triumphantly, “Aha! You’re finally mine!” he cheers and attacks your neck with a flourish of kisses, tickling you and infecting the air with your melodic giggles. 

“Now you’re hogging her Prongs, stop being a hypocrite!” Sirius pants lightly after rushing to the scene from the hallway, a grin plastered on his lips despite his accusing words. 

From the kitchen, Remus smiles to himself at the sounds of merriment in the air and continues to cook dinner. 

This is how it should be…

Remus wanted to sort the conflict with Sirius out more, so he insisted that you spend the night in James’ bed which you happily agree shyly, James grinning widely at your side. All three of you agree as Sirius whines and makes adorable grabbing motions at you but it’s no use as Remus keeps the tattooist pressed tightly against his side, dragging him off and trapping him in his room for the night. The sight made you giggle but it was a brief reprieve from the anxious nerves that soon had you avoiding James’ eyes. 

“You’re so cute,” James whispers affectionately at your shy behaviour, resisting the urge to kiss you as he leads you to his room and gestures to his en suite, “you can change in there, beautiful, I can change out here and brush my teeth at the kitchen sink instead,” 

With a small smile, you move past him with your duffle, eager to get ready for bed but squeal in surprise when you feel a teasing pinch at your ass. An explosion of heat blooms across your cheeks when you glance over your shoulder and observe James’ sly wink and devious smirk directed at you. 

“James—!”

“Angel with a cutest ass, aren’t I a lucky bastard?” he chuckles and presses a devoted, almost possessive, kiss onto your lips, “I never did say thank you for making those two apologise to me,” he purrs and nips at your bottom lip, “you make me feel seen…god, I love you so much,” you squeak into the fierce kiss that follows, almost losing yourself in the embrace but pry yourself away with a squeal when his hands travel too low and squeeze greedily at your ass. 

You rush into the bathroom with butterflies in your stomach as James licks his lips and laughs merrily. He’s come to love teasing you and you didn’t know whether to argue or welcome it with open arms. Shaking the thoughts out of your head, you move on to change into your pyjamas - an oversized shirt and shorts - before proceeding with your night time skincare routine. For a moment, you contemplated taking a shower but rule against it, not wanting to prolong your night time routine. No more than fifteen minutes later, you were out of the en suite bathroom feeling refreshed and ready for bed but giggle at the sight of James already tucked under the covers. He looks so cosy and innocent, it almost makes you forget about his devious behaviour earlier on. 

“All ready?” James asks with his usual boyish grin and sits up, allowing the covers to drop from his chest, at which point you quickly realise that James is a liar. He didn’t need to change into anything! All he did was take off his shirt and he was all set for bed! “I changed into comfier pyjama pants, though,” he argues lightly as you slip into the right side of the bed. 

“That’s just half changing!” your retort has him laughing aloud, your flustered state beyond amusing and incredibly adorable in his eyes.

“Am I making you shy, princess?~”

“…No,”  

“Oh yes I am~”

“Go to sleep, James,”

“Not without a goodnight kiss from my angel,” he leans over you with his naked chest on full display and you stutter in embarrassment, “don’t be shy, come and give me a fat smooch~” he puckers his lips above you and awaits your compliance with closed eyes. 

“James—”

“I’m a very patient man, darling, I can do this all night long,”

“No you’re not,”

“Yes I am,”

“You’re not,”

“I am,”

“Not!”

He finally peaks an eye open. Then slowly opens both eyes as he un-puckers his lips to smirk down at you, caged in between his muscular arms as he props himself up with his elbows, “You just like staring at my beautifully muscular chest don’t you?” you watch as his ego inflates to dangerous levels right in front of you, “My tattoos turn you on too, angel?~”

“Oh for goodness sake!” you finally relent and lean upwards, your smile matching his own when you finally capture his lips in his much desired, goodnight kiss. With one arm holding himself up, James uses his spare hand to hold your face in place, prolonging the kiss. You have no choice but to accept his needy demands as your hand searches his bedside table for his lamp switch. 

Morning comes with you groaning in discomfort as a syrupy wetness coats your inner thighs and painful pangs make you want to curl up into a ball. Your bleary morning fog makes the situation difficult to decipher but the realisation soon comes crashing down like a landslide and you lift the covers with a scream, the scent of iron becoming more potent. Beside you, James jumps awake, fully alert as his worried, hazel eyes scan you, trying to discern what may be the problem. 

“What’s wrong, angel?” he asks, voice deep and groggy with sleep but dripping in concern.

“James, I’m so sorry,” you sob into your hands  and curl up into yourself, hiding your face away from him. 

“What do you mean?” he reaches forward, inching closer to you in the process and quickly realising what’s wrong when he feels an unusual wetness seep through his thin pyjama pants, “oh angel, don’t be upset, it’s okay,” he coos, gently prying your hands away from your face so he can kiss your forehead tenderly, “it’s normal. Are you okay?” he asks softly, looking over you without an ounce of judgement or anger on his face, only concern and soft, kind, heart-fluttering love in his eyes. 

“Th-the blood—”

“I don’t care about the blood,” he insists gently, “I just want to make sure that you’re okay,” you remain silent from the embarrassment but he’s understanding, “do you want me to get you some painkillers?”

As soon as you give an affirming nod, he’s out of bed and hurrying down the hall. It doesn’t take very long for him to come back to you, a glass of water in one hand and a pack of painkillers in the other. 

“Thank you,” you finally utter with a small smile, still upset at having ruined the sheets but so incredibly grateful for his tolerance. Patiently, he waits for you to take your dosage before he’s sweeping you up in his arms and carrying you into his en suite. 

“Get cleaned up, angel,” he voices into you hair before placing you back on your feet, “I’ll change the sheets in the mean time,” he leaves you with a kiss before you could utter another word of apology. He wasn’t going to take it, he made that very clear, because it wasn’t your fault. And it was nothing a little oxi stain remover couldn’t fix. 

The start to the day wasn’t ideal but James, Remus and Sirius made one of the most agonising and frustrating times of the month for you much more enjoyable. James woke his two lovers up while you were showering in his bathroom, thanking your lucky stars that you bought a spare change of clothes just in case you wanted to shower, and they all made the effort of getting you comfortable. 

James changed his bedsheets and laid a dark coloured towel down for you to lay on top of just to catch any more potential leakage. He made sure you didn’t see his bloodied sheets again too so that you wouldn’t continue feeling guilty and happily took care of the stains away from your line of sight. Sirius worked on breakfast as Remus made you some tea and a hot water bottle and, before James steps out of the flat to buy you period pads, you hear Remus call out helpfully, “look for the long, heavy flow pads and make sure to get the ones with wings,” their thoughtfulness makes you smile. 

“How did you know to get these ones?” you ask when James comes back, panting as he hands you the pack of pads through the door of his en suite. 

“Remus told me, and I heard girls experience heavier flows on the first few days,” his answer draws out a proud smile. You have no doubt you’d be well taken care of in this relationship, though it does make you bashful. 

“Thank you, James,” 

For breakfast Sirius cooked you french toast with strawberries and honey, apparently it was the only good thing he could cook. Remus balanced the sweetness of the meal out with some eggs and toast, while James brought over the tea and hot water bottle Remus had also prepared. Breakfast was pleasant but they boys were insistent that you stay in James’ bed and call if you needed anything. As much as they wanted to spend the full day right by your side, they were preparing to make the announcement of returning their business into full operations and were still taking calls and responding to client emails at home. You didn’t argue, you knew the shop was important to them so you didn’t want to be a burden. 

The day drags by and you know they’ve made it clear that you could freely call out to them whenever but the hours drag by and they haven’t heard a single peep. They didn’t mean to lose their full attention in their work; it’s been so long since they were last filled with the motivation to keep up with their business that emails and paperwork on equipment orders had piled up significantly so they were swamped. Thankfully they were finally inspired enough that the work didn’t feel laborious. Unfortunately, that meant seeing them in their element though James’ open doorway and shying away from redirecting their attention back to you. 

It wasn’t until you willed yourself to walk to their kitchen that you finally caught their attention. All phone calls, email responses and paperwork filing was stopped as soon as you stepped into their line of sight when your craving for a snack became too much. They had gone for a quick shop to buy you an array of snacks from sweet to savoury that morning and had left the bag on their kitchen counter. You were just reaching for the bag when Remus caught your wrist and swept you up into his arms in order to carry you back into James’ bed. 

All three of them felt incredibly guilty for having neglected you, unintentional or not, they even neglected themselves in the process by prioritising their work and forgetting about lunch. In Remus’ head, everything circled back to the night before as a chain of linked events. As you laid in bed, curled up and nibbling on a chocolate bar, you watch and listen as Remus scolds the two about how, if the outburst didn’t happen, they wouldn’t have asked you to stay the night, you wouldn’t have agreed and you wouldn’t have had to suffer from their incompetent care. Remus was being too hard on himself, which reflected directly onto Sirius and James.

“This is why I said we needed to be careful and. To. Be. Patient,” Remus snarls under his breath, almost growling at Sirius and James who stand at the foot of the bed. James nods with a disappointed sigh as Sirius crosses his arms and huffs in defiance. They’re developing a bad habit of speaking about you when you’re still in the same room but, at least, it means their thoughts are open to you.

“I didn’t see you complain when you watched James and I practically devouring her sweet little mouth yesterday,” Sirius’ challenging comment makes the tips of James’s ears turn visibly pink as an embarrassing heat climbs up your neck to bloom across the apples of your cheeks. Interestingly, James can barks and bites to his heart’s content with you but if anybody else brings it up, it seems that bashfulness isn’t far behind. 

Remus shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, “don’t start now, Sirius—”  

“—I-I don’t mind, we’re all learning to love together and I know how important the tattoo parlour is to all of you so I really don’t mind…” you interrupt their bickering with flushed cheeks and shy eyes, unprepared for the reaction you would receive. 

Remus snaps his full attention towards you in that moment. Your words were innocent and you look the picture of virtue, shy and sweet as you peer up at them with glittering doe eyes and a small smile. Remus doesn’t think anybody else could be more beautiful than you right now. You appreciate his passions, you support it even, you’re understanding, you’re kind, you’re loving, you’re sweet and you’re so incredibly lovable, he wants to keep you away from the rest of the world forever, selfishly keeping you for himself. He wonders if you know how much of a tease you’ve been to him this whole, working him up over and over and over again until he finally snaps.  

Morals and patience be damned — he can’t resist you anymore. 

Remus’ face carries an unreadable expression as he gives a slow exhale and strides over to you. Sirius and James watch from where they stood, unmoving but with sly smiles on their lips — they know you’re the perfect image of Remus’ weaknesses bundled into one being and they both knew this was coming. It was about time… they applaud him though, he has more patience than them — but he had more desires too. 

It all happens too fast for you to register but Remus was quickly looming over you, propped up by a hand on the bed as his other gripped at your chin. His eyes were piercing and held such promise within them, un-breaking and passionate, that you couldn’t look away. 

“Don’t tempt me, beautiful girl,” his voice lowers several octaves and is underpinned by a hypnotising vibration that corrupts your limbs with minor tremors and a ferocious heat. Shamelessly, he captures your lips in a soft and tender kiss, an antithesis to the dark gleam in his feral eyes, “I’m not above making a mess in the bedroom,” you gasp at the implication and, for a moment, your cramps become pleasantly arousing. Again, Remus can’t help but hold your lips hostage in an increasingly impassioned embrace. He greedily eats up your pretty moans, the muffled sounds going straight to his groin and making his smart trousers uncomfortably tight — a prickling warning to his precarious conduct, “so be a good girl and sit pretty until after you get over this, okay?” he utters roughly against your lips. 

He’ll wait just a little bit longer…it’ll be worth it.

NAVI. | SERIES M.LIST | NEXT : TONIGHT →

A/N : goodness me, this was so much harder to write than previous chapters, i kept changing so many things but i think i'm satisfied with the final product, i hope you darlings do too~ the next chapter will be a pretty big one i think, so i won't be posting it for a while, however, i may post short additional imagines/scenarios for this series that don't necessarily follow the chronological order just to satiate some of you XD anywho~ i hope you darlings enjoyed this chapter and look forward to the next one

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[spicy30]

Modernness of 1400s 001

Pairing: HOTD x Fem!Modern!Reader

Extra: The reader is noted to be bilingual (Spanish speaking) and is familiar with the majority of Latin-based languages, No use of Y/N

cw: Misinformation, cannon-typical violence

Rating: 13+

Not proofread

WC: 4k

“Yes! I will call you both when I arrive at the airport.” You spoke in a hurried voice excited to leave. It was your first time leaving the country without your parents. Your first trip alone, well not exactly alone. Your best friend was in the car. Saying your final goodbyes you grabbed your three large suitcases and stuffed them in the back while taking one in the front.

“Why did you bring three!? What even is in there?” Your best friend spoke as she was squished to the side.

“Basically all of my clothes and shampoos, soaps, scrubs, sanitary pads, sanitary wipes, toothpaste, y’know all the stuff you need to be clean.” You listed the things on your fingers as you spoke to her.

“You can’t bring liquids on a plane.” She stared at you with a blank stare. “You’re so gonna get stopped by security.”

“If they’re over 100 milliliters. I did my research. You can never be too clean, and you never know when you might need them!” You urged with an exaggerated tone of voice.

“Girl, we’re gone for two weeks, we can buy anything we need once we get there.” She rationalized with you.

“We’re on a budget. Why waste money on useless things when we can simply just take from what we already have, duh!” You rolled your eyes and chewed some gum while smiling then offered her some. Your best friend hummed and shrugged while taking one and popping it in her mouth.

“Anyways, these jeans are gonna be the death of me, I know it. This plane ride is like 10 hours!” Your best friend complained as she unbuttoned her jeans.

“Airport crushes. Gotta look your best.” You spoke as you touched up your makeup and adjusted your sweater. “Anyways, I hope it’s cold on the plane. I hate it when it’s too hot, but just in case I wore this.” You unzipped your sweater showing a cream-colored, halter-style top with a square neckline. “The cold is better because you can always put on more layers, with the heat, only so many layers you can take off.” You hear your best friend hum in agreement.

You watched the world pass you by and the sunset as the music sounded in your ears from your headphones. The car came to a slow stop to pay the highway toll before speeding up again. You looked into the darkness of the night. This bridge that you were crossing was quite long. Deciding to prep ahead of time, you downloaded movies and songs on your phone.

Red lights flashed on your left and you heard a honk. You looked over and saw a semi-truck switching lanes. It was far too close to you. You simply sat still watching as the semi-truck hit the front of the car. There was nothing you could do. Another collision hit you from behind, jerking you forward. Your best friend screamed. You only screamed when the car began swerving closer to the edge of the bridge. The only thing below this bridge is the black ocean.

The car gave a screeching stop as it crashed into the concrete wall. The back of the car hung over the edge. Both you and your best friend were screaming and crying for help, though the driver only quickly unbuckled themselves and got out of the car. Your screaming drowned out anything else as the car hung in the balance. The car door opened on your right and your best friend was helped out by a bystander.

She called your name as the car slipped backward. Acting fast you stuffed your phone in your purse, crawled over your suitcase and finally stepped onto solid ground again. As you tried to walk forward you got stuck. Looking back, your sweater had gotten stuck in the suitcase. In desperation, you pulled, and it pulled the whole suitcase out. However, the suitcase fell over the edge. You heard your name being yelled at as you were yanked backward. You screamed and swiped for anything, your hand only hit the car. As you fell you screamed even louder as you saw the car fall after you, the bright red tail gates chasing after you. It was a long drop, every second you felt as if you would hit the cold black waters. You moved mid-air and curled yourself into a ball before you felt the sharp hit of the cold water.

As you sank down you extended your body swimming upwards, but you felt heavy. Nevertheless, you persevered. Swimming with desperation you felt a cramp in your calf. You groaned as you stopped moving your leg. Looking down, you saw nothing but black, but as you looked back up red lights crashed into you. The blow was hard and the wind was knocked out of you. Reflexively you breathed in, only to swallow water, coughing, and you swallowed more water. You failed your arms trying to get to the surface. Everything burned and you tried to breathe once more, only to take in more water before you finally gave up.

…

Your body jerked to the side and you threw up seawater while crying. More and more water came out and you couldn’t breathe. Every time you tried a water shot from your mouth. Finally, you took a big deep breath in and grabbed on firmly to what seemed to be an armored shoe.

Looking up the sun blinded you, as well as the shine from the armor.

“That’s her…we just found her…when…what…wearing?” Voices came in and out and you flipped back over onto your back letting the sun hit you. You simply breathed, looking up towards the blue sky. You simply laid back trying to refocus, though it didn’t seem to be working. Large dark figures flew in the sky, you didn’t know what they were but you blinked trying to figure it out. As your eyes focused on them, a man stepped in front of you, he was bald with thick white eyebrows and a matching beard.

“Are you…” The words he spoke sounded blurred.

“Huh?” From behind him, a large creature, what seemed like a… well a… a “Dragon?” It was the last thing you spoke before you felt your body give into the exhaustion once more.

…

“Though it is the great hope of the court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survives his wounds, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As a hand, I speak with the King’s voice on this and all other matters.” All watched as Otto finished his speech and then sat on the Iron Throne much more comfortably than Rheanerya would like. “The crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon.” Otto called upon him and he stepped into the middle of the hall.

“My Queen, my Lord Hand, the noble history of our noble houses extends to the times of Old Valyria.” Vaemond began. “For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Valeryon has ruled the seas. When the doom fell on Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebears came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean an end to their bloodlines, and their name. I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother's seat. I am Lord Corlys's closest kin, his own blood. The true and impeccable blood runs through my veins.”

“As it does in my sons, the offspring Laenor Valeryon,” Rhaenerya spoke. It would be a cold day in the seven hells before she lets the heritage of her sons be questioned. “If you cared so much about your house's blood Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and for your own ambition.”

“You will have a chance to make your own petition Princess Rhaenerya,” Alicent spoke, a cold look in her eye as she looked at her. “Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing him to be heard.”

Vaemond turned with a mocking smirk. “What do you know of the Velaryon blood princess? I could cut my veins and show it to you and you still wouldn’t recognize it. This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours.” He turned away from the mother of bastards to address Otto once more. “My Queen, my hand, this is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of survival and my line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother’s successor. The Lord of Driftmark, Lord of the tides.”

“Thank you Ser Vaemond,” Otto said, nodding as he acknowledged the claim. “Princess Rheanerya, you may now speak for your son Lucerys Velaryon.”

Rhaenrya stepped forward, annoyed and aggravated with the whole situation. “If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding the court that nearly twenty years ago in this very-” A door opened interrupting her. She turned and saw her father, standing with all the glory, once more coming to protect his heir.

“King Viserys of House Targaryen, the first of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.” Everyone in that room watched as he hobbled down the steps, then to the Throne. Dropping his crown, they watched as his ever loyal brother, Daemon, placed it back on his head.

“I must…admit…my confusion.” Viserys breathed heavily. “I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one present who might offer a kenner insight into Lord Corlys’s wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.” Everyone looked towards her as Viserys spoke.

“Indeed your grace.” Rheanys spoke and she stepped forward. “It was ever my husband's will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor, his trueborn son,” She looked towards the dark haired boy. “Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed, nor did my support of him. As a matter of fact, the Princess Rheanerya has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys’s granddaughter; Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I…heartily agree.”

“Well the matter is settled…again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the driftwood throne and the next Lord of the Tides.” As Viserys spoke a scoff broke through Vaemonds lips.

“You break the law.” He spoke to Viserys. “And centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. Yet you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon.” Vaemond spoke, anger clear in his voice and face.

“No!” A faint yell was heard, but no one paid mind to it.

“No. I will not allow it.” They were words of defiance. He would not let his house fall into ruin because the King was short sighted.

“Allow it?” Viserys spoke, offended that he thought he had a say in the matter. “Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.” The warning was clear.

“That!” Vaemond yelled pointing towards Luke. “Is no true Velaryon and certainly no nephew of mine.”

“Go to your chambers.” Rheanerya spoke, ushering her sons away but they did not move. “You have said enough.” She redirects herself to Vaemond stepping in front of her children.

“Lucerys is my true-born grandson and you are no more than the second son of Driftmark.” Viserys spoke once more. This was treading too close to the line.

“Let go of me!” Another voice yelled, though it was muffled and once again, no one paid it any mind.

“You may run your house as you see fit.” The initiation was clear. “But you will not decide the future of mine! My house survived the doom and a thousand tribulations besides.” He turned back to Rhaenyra. “And gods be damned…” His eyes shifted to Luke. “I will not see it end on the account of this-” Vaemond held his tongue, but just barely.

“Say it.” Daemon whispered, tempting him.

A grim smile bloomed on Vaemonds face as he looked towards Rhaenyra. If no one else had the gaul to say it, he would. “Her children…are BASTARDS!” He yelled for everyone in the Seven Kingdoms to hear.

King Viserys leaned forward. “And she…” Vaemond turned to look towards Viserys with conviction in his eyes. “Is a whore.”

Viserys stood up taking out his knife ready to cut out Vaemond’s tongue himself. “I…will have your tongue for that!”

A sharp slice followed and the top of Vaemond’s head came flying off. “He can keep his tongue.” Daemon said.

“I said unhand me you twats!” Once more the voice sounded, this time, closer, as if behind the doors.

“Disarm him!” Otto yelled, ignoring the yells from behind the door.

“You smell horrid! All of you!” The voice yelled once again and this time everyone turned as the door opened and they watched a woman nearly fall back while she gave a small yelp of surprise.

The sounds of swords unsheathing sound. “Woah!” The woman yelled once more and lifted her hands high in the air. Her accent sounded clear. She was not from here. The court watched the event unfold. Guards surrounded her. “Those look a little too real to be fake so imma need y’all to stay a healthy distance away from me!” They heard her yell, such an informal way of speaking. A common born they all deduced, but why was a common born here in the throne room, why was she even in the Keep at all? However, what most caught the attention of everyone was her clothes. What was she wearing? It looked very inappropriate.

“Listen I don’t know what kinda freaky stuff y’all got goin’ on, but as you can see.” You gestured to yourself and your clothing. “Look at my clothes, and look at yours” Your hands moved sporadically around trying to explain yourself. “Ergo, I am not a part of this … .role playing? Whatever you guys got goin’ here.”

They watched as the woman tried to reason and the guard stepped closer, and she left a high pitched scream. All winced at the volume. “Stop! Please! I’m unarmed!” She yelled. “Look! My hands are up as you can see!” She gave them all a spin and for the first time, the people of the court saw the woman’s face but only for a second. “No weapons. Please put the swords away, I don’t care if they’re fake, they’re a little too real for me and it’s freaking me out!”

“Lay down your swords!” Commanded Viserys and all the men sheaved their swords

“Oh so you listen to the man and not the girl whos been pleading for you to stop? Okay.” You spoke with annoyance. You turned finally taking a look at the court. “Ooh….” You sucked in a breath as you saw the old man in a chair or what looked like to be swords. “Uhh, good make up artist.” You murmmed.

“Step forward girl.” Viserys commanded. You looked around, the men in armor had their sharp eyes trained on your, as if they were hounds waiting to be told to strick.

“Uhhh, I’m a little hesitant to uh move…” You gave an awkward smile.

“They will not harm you, I have told them to stand down.” Viserys spoke once more, a headache become more potent by every moment that passed.

“Okay….” You moved slow making sure to show your every movement and keeping your hands visible. “I’m moving, I’m just moving, no weapons.” You spoke as you slowly walked forward. You didn’t know where you were, but you didn’t want to find out if the props were real or not. It all looked so real, a nice place they had. Their dresses and attires, it was all very surreal. Very nice wigs as well, they almost looked real. A man who had half of his white hair pulled back and the rest down looked at you. You looked down to his sword noticing a red liquid, you stopped right in your tracks.

You pointed at him while your hands remained in the air. “Uhh what about him? I’m seein’ a little…a little red there.” You looked him up and down then back at the rough looking old man who sat the sword?? Throne thingy.

“Daemon.” You watch the white haired man step aside and you gasped and turned around.

“Oh my god!? What? Is! That!?” You yelled your back turned not wanting to look any closer at the…person?? Who was on the floor. “That uh! Thats ummm…. very good props? The anatomy is uh…very good. Wow! Uh yeah… sorry I don’t… I don’t wanna look at that, I have a weak stomach, I can’t even watch animals get killed, I start crying.” You began babling.

“Take him away.” Visery spoke and the silent sisters whisked him away. As you turned you looked around taking in the sights of people. So many white haired ones. Peculiar. You eyes caught one with dark hair and a semi bad haircut, but he was good looking nonetheless. Damn, you hope you didn’t look too rough. Looking to your right, you caught sight of two with white hair.

“Damn.” You whisper wiping the underneath your eyes hoping to take away any mascara that may be running. “Please let me look good right now.” You whispered.

“Is it safe?” You called out no longer hearing the sounds.

“It is.” The old man spoke and you faced him. “Who are you girl and what are you doing here. Commons are not allowed here.”

You made a face at the word commons but rolled your eyes and introduced yourself and gave where you were from. You were met with faces of confusion. You scoffed. “Listen uh, your highness? I don’t know. Can we uh, quit role playing or whatever this is. I- I don’t do that, its not for me. So listen can we be real here for a second? I gave you my country, and my continent. There is no way, you would not know that. Unless…” You looked around and breathed but quickly covered your nose giving a noise of displeasure. “Listen you’re a..what? King? So uh forgive my insolence your highness, but uh…there no way you wouldn’t know unless you all are…uneducated?” All in the court made a face towards you.

You sucked in a breath. Wrong move. Oh well, it is what it is. “Yeah sorry, uh disconnected because uh clearly…y’know your attire, your buildings….the smell, god it’s potent, uh everything it’s just y’know.”

Everyone stared at you in confusion. They had never heard of the place where you claimed to come from. Perhaps it was a place in Essos, of in the Shadowlands beyond Asshai.

“Are you from Essos then?” An old man to your, now left, asked. “What? What is Essos?”

“Are you sure you are not the one who is uneducated.” A voice sounded behind you. You turned swifted to glare at the man who spoke. It was the one with the sword.

“Uh excuse you, I’m not the one who doesn’t the seven continents. Comeone everyone learns those. You don’t know Asia or Africa, what about Europe?” You asked him as he looked at you with an unamused face. “North America? South America? Antarctica? Oceania? No! Exactly, you wanna know how I know? Because of that stu- I’m yelling. I probably shoudln’t be yelling in my position.” You caught yourself and turned around to face their king.

“But come on Essos?” You scoffed. “Listen I may not be the best at geography, but,” The words got stuck in your throat and you sighed out a breath of defeat. “You wanna give me a hint where it’s at?” You heard a scoff behind you and your eye twitched and you smile became forced.

“It’s in the name.” The man behind you —Daemon they called him— spoke once again and you scoff. “What East?” You smiled as the white haired woman to your right gave no signs of a smile. You smile fell from your face. “What? Seriously? What do you call the West?” You laughed. “Western Land? What about the South? Southlandia?” You give another laugh.

“You’re is Westeros.” The old man on your left said.

“What kind of- Okay,” You murmured. “And South?”

“Sothoryos.” He said once again. You face morphed into an approving expresson. “That one is actually not bad. Sounds really actually cool. Okay North?”

“We don’t have a North, it’s part of Westeros.” Once more he answer your question and you nodded turned to him and pointing. “So Westeros leads to the polar icecaps?”

He furrowed his brows. You made a sound of understanding. “Ah I see, you haven’t discovered them yet. So no South pole or North pole. Okay. These are your continents? Okay…so I’m gonna assume Essos is just Asia, this seems a lot like the UK, England? The accents match, or maybe Ireland? No…I think imma stick with England. Okay so I’m in England.”

“As my uncle said…you seem to be the one who is uneducated.” A male voice rings out, and the one with the eyepatch has an aggravating smirk.

“Excuse me? You try getting into a car crash, falling off a bridge because a damned suitcase, wake up in who knows where and figure out where you are. Might I add after not being told common continents.” You looked him up and down. A shame he was good looking, well as one can be with an eye patch. Him opening his mouth really just ruined him. “Tell me, if you, I don’t know, what do you guys have here? Carriages? Do you guys have bridges? Probably not as big as the one I fell from. Have you ever fallen say 200 hundred feet or… sorry uh…. 60 meters? Thats what you guys use right? Well say you fall from 60 meters, into water, drown, then wake up on a beach not knowing where you are or who anyone is. If you fell from that hight and landed on say…oh I don’t any island on Micronesia. Do you know what or even where Micronesia is?” You tilted your head. “No? Well…I think I’ve made my point.”

“You speak to a Prince girl” The King spoke and you turned to him then back towards the one eye man who seemed a bit shocked that his father would come to his rescue.

“Thats your son? My apologies. Is every white haired person here your child?” You asked but the King suddenly let our a groan. The woman in the green dress ran to him.

‘His wife? No? She’s too young. Are those her kids? No…she’s too young…right?’ The thoughts raced in your mind.

“Get the Maesters!” The woman yelled.

‘Maesters? Masters? Weird accents, definitely in the UK.’ You looked around standing there unsure of what to do.

“Get him milk of the poppy, and the get the leaches!” The Maester called.

“Milk of the poppy? Opioids!? Well I mean, I suppose it's common, but um, as long as he doesn’t get addicted to it.” As you spoke the white-haired woman looked back at you with an expression you couldn’t quite describe. “Did you know, there are only two drugs that can kill you if you just quit them? Opioids, which is what your ‘milk’ is, and alcohol funny enough. Once your body becomes dependent on it, or in other words, you get addicted, if it is ripped away from the addict. Your body will go into shock, thus killing the addict. Just a little fun fact to think about if you feed him that stuff every day.” As you spoke the room became silent as men in white clothing came and grabbed the King. From your left, you heard a scoff.

“You think you know more than the Maesters?” The old man asked once again.

“Well…if my ears do not mislead me and I heard you still do leaching, or bloodletting. Then I think I just might.” You smiled and shrugged at him. “If anything, you’re doing more harm than good. While leeches can be used in other ways that would be beneficial, this is not one of the ways. You’re idea of leaching and blood letting comes from the notion of bad blood or good blood right? Something along those lines.” As you spoke the Maester stopped and let go of the King and another took his place walking him down the Throne. Everyone was looking at you and the sounds of the King.

“Well, there's no such thing as bad blood or good blood. What there is in the body is something called bacteria. It's on a microscopic level, don’t think you’ve discovered it yet, that's okay. Misinformation is common these days. Well in any case, when you bleed the patient, I’m pretty sure you deprive them of white blood cells and then force the body to focus on the cut instead of the actual issue that the body is facing. White blood cells are kind of like the fighters, they fight off the bad bacteria.” You continued. “Well it might not be exactly because of that reason, but it's one of the many reasons why it doesn’t work.”

“Well if there are these ‘white blood cells’ as you call them why isn’t our blood white?” The Maester asked. He had a smug expression on his face.

“Well, there is white blood and red blood cells. Also as I said, it is on a microscopic level. It’s not visible to the naked eye. They’re very very very very small. Also, there is a chemical reaction that makes blood red.” You answered with a smug smile of your own.

“How much do you know of medicine?” The white-haired woman asked.

“More than him it would seem.” You gave a blank smile.

“Would you be able to cure him? My father, the King.” The woman, who was a princess asked once more with a pointed look.

“Uh I’d have to take a look at him. Can’t make any promises.” You spoke and she nodded walking away and you stood still unsure of what to do. You looked over to the boy with the bad hair cut and gave a smile. He gave you a small curt one in return before following the Princess. The the seconds dark haired boy left. You turned to look at the man with the eye-patch and what you assume are his siblings or cousins.

The shuffling of feet stop and you look towards the Princess who looks at you with an expectant look. “Oh! Oh! Right, sorry!” You turned back, they were royalty, it felt wrong to just leave, but you didn’t know what to do. “Um, bye.” You said in a small voice giving a small bow before turn and giving a small run to catch up to the Princess.

Next I Masterlist

Note: This is self-indulgence and I'm not gonna research anything trying to make it as real as I can. If an average person was just randomly there.

To be added on Tag list: !(•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

[libraford]

There is someone disagreeing with my post about the sanitary bags/bins because its such a large bag for such a small item and it seems like a waste.

The temptation to show them one of my pads is strong.

[animasola86]

NSFW Hogwarts in the 1890s Headcanons

Convenient Plot Devices (to make my smut more believable)

(aka Nurse Blainey is a very supportive and progressive witch doctor!)

Every girl over the age of 15 (sometimes earlier) is required to take contraceptive potions as per request by Nurse Blainey who had to deal with horny teenagers and their lack of mind for consequences for too long.

Boys don't have to take them, but can if they are so inclined.

Very reluctantly, the recipe for that potion is taught by Professor Sharp in the Sixth-years' Potions class.

There are potions for every ailment (usually provided by Nurse Blainey), including aftermath soreness or the "potion after" if a witch/wizard forgot to take their contraceptive potion.

There were indeed condoms*, but not every wizard carried them, so the potions and/or a quick disappearing spell had to be used to prevent pregnancies.

*Condoms were usually distributed in barbershops in the late 19th/early 20th century (according to Wikipedia) so I imagine Madam Snelling selling them under the counter in her hair salon.

There is no sex-ed class in Hogwarts, but again, Nurse Blainey is the first to hand out informative literature* or reading recommendations.

The Restricted Section of the library has an entire room filled with erotic fiction, anatomical books and various guides to help out the eager witch or wizard.

*Informative literature included tips and guides for the uterus-bearing population on how to deal with bleeding. As early as 1890, probably even earlier, there was the "invention" of pad-belts/sanitary belts in Victorian England, those were re-usable and I can imagine even easier to use for witches because instead of cleaning them the old-fashioned way, they could just clean them with a swish of their wand. (Read more on the history of menstrual pads here if you're interested.)

Ignatia Wildsmith has seen more horny teenagers making out in front of her Floo flames than people actually using that way of travel.

Ghosts see a lot of things and mostly they don't care about it, unless they are Richard Jackdaw* who likes to stalk those horny teenagers more often than is appropriate.

*Shameless plug: I wrote a smut piece about our favorite horny ghost called The Horny Ghost (how creative).

"Silencio" is the most used spell in the dormitories, boys' and girls' alike.

Hufflepuffs are the only ones who don't have curtains around their beds! But I bet they can think of other devices to get some privacy. Maybe they're masters of the Disillusionment charm!

On that note: only Ravenclaws have their own in-house bathrooms - with actual bathtubs! Slytherins have to leave their common room, and Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs have to walk quite a while to find the nearest bathroom. [Correction: there are bathrooms, one with stalls, one with stalls and bathtubs, in the Gryffindor common room, but only on the girls' side! (Thanks to @mianeryh for pointing that out!)]

But this is a post about HCs, not actual fact/pointing out lazy game design, so I'd like to imagine that all houses have at least one communal bath/bathroom area very close to their dormitories.

*By the way: In the Slytherin, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff common rooms, the girls' dormitories are upstairs, so they have the stairs turning into slides whenever a boy tries to access them, whereas in the Ravenclaw common room, the girls have to go down the stairs and are "only" protected by two suits of armor guarding the way, which in turn makes it easier to sneak past!

Popular make-out places are: the boat-house, the underground harbor, the loft above the Great Hall, the kitchens (poor house-elves), the Prefects' bathroom, the Restricted Section of the library, any dark empty hallway, any empty classroom/storage room, the Undercroft and the Room of Requirement (if they know of them), ...

*Honestly: anywhere is possible in the large castle that is Hogwarts!

Let's talk fashion: we've all seen the HL undergarments of girls and boys, right? Here is an amazing guide by @tamayula-hl about period accurate clothing and their uses in smut writing, very informative!

So based on that I also believe that horny teenagers got tired of all those buttons and layers very quickly and learned spells to make the undressing easier, and/or used "Evanesco" to get rid of clothes entirely (and conjured them back afterwards) - though tbh, I, as a smut writer, don't care too much about how they get naked. They're wizards/witches, they have their ways!

My most used clothing device apart from simple spells: the convenient flap at the front of boys' breeches.

FANFICTION MASTERLIST - KINKTOBER - AO3

[realsafari]

ATTENTION TO ALL USERS OF THE HELLSITE!

MY FRIEND DOREEN (SHE/HER) LIVES IN KAKUMA KENYA, WHICH HAS A RELATIVELY LARGE LGBTQ+ POPULATION. RECENTLY, THERE HAVE BEEN CRACKDOWNS FROM MILITARY AND POLICE TARGETING LGBTQ+ INDIVIDUALS, USUALLY BY TORTURE, SEXUAL ASSAULT, AND/OR EXECUTION.

—————————————————————

She has asked me to share her story on my blog, since it has more outreach than her own. For direct questions, first person accounts, and interaction with her, please visit her blog @transdoreen !

THE FOLLOWING TEXT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME. PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

The following is copied exactly from a message she sent me, with some minor edits for spelling and grammar as English is not her first language.

“We have been surviving on fundraisers, but recently we haven’t been doing so well.

Our situation has become worse. We can’t be treated in the public hospital that is around. Sometimes, they chase us away, sometimes they even do worse. One of our LGBTQ+ comrades here, a lesbian named Joan, was raped and murdered by a doctor who said he will turn her straight. She was one of the biggest advocates for our freedom.

So we face alot of challenges. We have to seek private medication which is expensive. We cannot do anything here, as we are attacked on sight.

We get small food portions. Sometimes we are attacked, and the food is taken away.

LGBTQ+ women have no access to sanitary pads, and they use dirty clothes and sand during that period.

Anytime we sleep without others staying awake to lookout, our shelters get attacked and burnt down.

The challenges are so many.”

I know for a fact that most of us can’t even fathom these horrors that Doreen and her friends + family are experiencing.

I wish I could help more than simply making a Tumblr post.

————————————————————————————

HERE IS A LINK TO DOREEN’S GOFUNDME, WHICH IS HER ONLY SOURCE OF INCOME TO SURVIVE. PLEASE DONATE AS MUCH AS YOU CAN.

EVEN IF YOU CAN’T DONATE, PLEASE SEND THIS POST TO AS MANY PEOPLE AS POSSIBLE. EVERY REBLOG HELPS.

PLEASE TALK TO DOREEN HERSELF, @transdoreen , FOR MORE INFORMATION.

Nakupenda Doreen, na natumai hii inasaidia. 🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈

[cosmica-candy]

Hi I absolutely adore electrolyte I would die for him. He should be friends with my xylitol nova kid mayhaps

Oh oh oh you like Electrolyte cookie? Here he is! And below the cut? Fan fic draft + more art 💙

Deep space, sugar star belt, 12:38 am, Xylitol time.

Xylitol Nova cookie was stepping down the hallways, a small note pad in his hand,

repare ward, check

Ship docks, check

Housing wing, check

Lounge wing, check

He sighed flipping through his notes

Check, check, check, check, double check

Then his eyes caught it, an in checked line

Children's and Infant hospital wing he smiled keenly to himself tucking it away in his breast pocket

"How have I missed that?" He sighed no matter, he quickly turned heel making a quick pace for the hospital again...

His heels clicked on the floor as the fellow cookies at bots stepped out of there leaders way, giving a buzz, salute or bow to him.

Walking to the reception window, he looked at his influx of happy and healthy new parents and families, a strange pull in heart loomed... He never had parents. Just a lab grown body designed to lead. It was him. Always him. History has his eyes on him.

"Xylitol Nova! Sir! What an pleasant surprise!" Cooed the charge nurse Orbit, her white hair pulled into a messy bun, once being prim and proper... "What brings you to our side of the hospital?"

"Ah...Yes I wanted to say hello to the new little ones...I"

"Wanted something to do sir?"

He chuckled putting up his hands "guilty has charged"

The two walked through the hallways the Florencent lights shining through the sanitary halls, Orbit and Nova stopped at a large window looking at the nursery... Many freshly baked and bundled babies laied in an organized comb, all of them with charts lovingly written on by adoring parents, all...

But one.

Xylitols brow cocked "Who's that little one? third row fourth on the left"

Nurse Orbit sighed "That would be little Electrolyte...No known father... Mother ....Just passed on..."

Xylitols flinched “so that's who that ping was earlier....“ He thought... "An orphan? What's to happen to him?"

"well, if no one is to claim him... He will be enrolled in the ranger program and become an asset to the planet..." Nurse orbit stated "its the best place for an orphan seeing how tight knit the rangers are... A found family would adore a little bundle of joy..."

"...And no ones been interested in him..?"

"Unfortunately...with his hair color and his eyes, No..."

Nova placed a hand on the glass staring in... "....May I hold him?" His voice dripped with sorrow, all the nurses froze there heads whipping to gaze at there dear leader...

Nurse Orbit nodded adjusting her glasses... "o-of course sir..right this way..."

Leading into the warm, sterile nursery, Novas heart pounded stepping closer and closer to the infant... His eyes were closed, his deep black hair was streaked with strands and baby blue, his deep olive skin were painted by two rosy blushed cheeks.

He squirmed a bit being scooped up by orbit, before being gently placed into novas arms... He held a child before...but this...was different.

He felt time slow down, the warmth of the little bundle in his arms, all he could tell was this little life in his strong arms, completely helpless...yet. alone.

Tears trickled down thed leaders face as he held the child, gently falling into the boys cheek, he stirred awake cooing softly... His eyes fluttered open revealing pools of baby blue, untouched by the pain and grief of the cosmos

He sniffled ”Hello little one..." Nova cooed gently bouncing the bundle in his arms, Electrolyte smiled up at him his tiny arm reaching up to him, his tiny hands grabbing up twords him, Nova A big intrigued brought his free hand to him... Electrolyte cooed

Wrapping around Xylitols finger.

Xylitol gasped softly his eyes welling with more tears than he had wept in the past century. He cuddled the boy lifting him up to his chest cooing down at him...

Nurse Orbit was equally as tearful, she held unto her badge smiling at her leader

"I'll take him" Nova whimpered holding his new son close to his chest.

[ghostingpen]

what's in my bag

i saw a tumblr post asking people who carry bags what items are there to bring other than “chapstick, keys, phone and maybe a tampon” and tbh that stuck with me. so here is everything i keep in my bag because i like to be That Backpack Person who has everything for any common occurrence.

after years of experimenting with my everyday carry, trying out trendy backpacks such as the fjällräven kanken and the doughnut macaroon, i surprisingly now find myself reaching for the jansport right pack backpack the most.

look at it in all its glory decked out in pins, buttons, and charms. i recently wore it going apple picking at an orchard and had no issues.

so here are its contents:

front small pocket:

mini emergency kit (i’m reusing an old gum container to keep small things i find myself needing often: bandaids, painkillers, hair ties, loose cash to give to the local homeless, four quarters in case i go to ALDI or want a gumball) + pocket tissues (this is what i run low on the most) + mini UNO cards (waiting in line with friends? play UNO) + tide to go pen + 2-in-1 battery bank/plug-in charger + phone charging cable + d20 dice (stimmy)

front medium pocket:

wallet + coin purse (to collect loose change) + disposable pens + e-reader + car keys + work ID + vape

water bottle pocket: 

the 24-oz owala water bottle is, and i’m not sponsored when i say this, the best water bottle i’ve ever used. the design is genius.

laptop pocket:

reusable shopping bag (i impulse buy a lot so this is useful) + one “big” tech thing and its charger for entertainment purposes. i like to have multiple entertainment options because i’m mentally ill. i’m currently carrying my steam deck OLED with me but i may sometimes instead bring one of these:

ipad: for web browsing, drawing, word processing.

freewrite alpha: my current way to write fiction. think a modern alphasmart that lets you transfer files locally or sync to the cloud if you prefer that.

work laptop: for work.

main pocket: 

mini tote (i use this to easily transfer whatever’s in the main pocket to another bag) + journal (a traveler’s notebook) + large emergency kit (sanitary pads, herbal oil for aches, eczema hand cream, earplugs, makeup wipes) + noise-canceling headphones + electric fan + hobonichi drawer pouch (other charging cables, wig caps, bobby pins, gorilla glue, facial wipes) + compact umbrella + pencil case

pencil case:

mechanical pencil + pencil lead + mini sticky notes + multi-ruler + white gel pen + glue stick + eraser + scissors + highlighter + brush pen + metal pen (it works like an 8 ball where you roll it and it shows you an 8ball-esque answer)

what you put in your bag is a very personal thing! i am always fascinated by the different ways people hold their things and what they find worth carrying around.

[starsomens]

Okay since you're asking, who am I to not give you some ideas?

So Id love to read something more drammatic if you feel confy. Like scenario: noah goes to the grocery with the kids and meets someone he knows like Davis or anyone else. Got distracted for 2 minutes and BAM. His baby girl is missing.

Classical moment in which a kid goes lost for 5 minutes but the parent freak out.

A/N: I think this formed more like a drable than anything else but enjoy!!

" 'kay princess ready to get groceries?" he asked as he unbuckles her seatbelt in her car seat. You were at home after a very stressful week, so he picked up the errand with your 5 year old daughter Eden. Usually when Noah comes food shopping it's on his own so he could surprise you with flowers, or your favorite snack.

He walks hand in hand with her through the parking lot. Once they were inside he grabs a cart and asks her

"You wanna ride in the cart or you wanna walk?" he always asks her which option she wanted. He thought if he gave her a sense of independence in her choices, she'll be confident in her decisions.

"Mmmm walk!" she said with a bright smile

Noah loved when she smiled that way "Okay princess just stay close okay?" she nods and in they go. Noah liked to involved Eden in his day to day errands. She helped pick apples and some vegetables. They even went to see the lobsters in the tank for a while. He'd watch her walk in front of the cart and just admire how big she's getting.

She used to sit in her car seat on top of the shopping cart, now she's pointing at her favorite juice and snacks all on her own.

"Daddy, can we get snackies?" Eden asked as they passed the candy and snack aisle

"We will baby, just have to grab some other things and we can get your favorite cookies okay?" he said to her

"Okay papa." she answered. They stop at the sanitary aisle and picked some babywipes, make up wipes and he knew you needed some pads, but you recently changed.

"shit" he mumbled to himself and pulled his phone out to call you "hey babe, what size pussy do you wear again?....HAHA it’s fine no one is around….yeah I see those but not the new ones you're using....okay they have regular, plus and ulta....regular alright...okay see you soon, love you..bye" he tosses the pack into the cart and clapped his hands together

"Alright sweetheart lets go pick some cookies..." he expected to hear her cheery voice but didn't get an answer. He looked around him and did see her.

.....WHERE WAS SHE?!

"Eden?" he called looking up and down the aisle. Nothing. "Eden!" he called again

His heart was racing and his mind was going to every place possible. He pushed the cart and rushed to the cookie aisle to see if she was there

"Eden?" not in the cookie aisle....fuck. FUCK! She wasn't there! Normally Noah was calm and collected but this was his baby girl! He's rushing through the store trying to spot her beautiful head of hair, her precious laugh, something!

Oh god and if you found out, you'd rip his head off! How could he lose sight of her?! He was always so careful, always had her near him, never left his sight!

He rushed to customer service and cut some people in line

"Uh yeah I..I." he didn't even know how to form it "My daughter I lost her.. I-I don't know where she is, is there an announcement that could be made? A place to Look o-or-"

"Daddy!" He spins around and sees his little girl. his little Eden, his princess! She runs to him and he scoops her up in his arms. He held her so close, breathed in her scent of soft lavender. his little arms around his neck and he felt such relief as if he could drop to the floor right there. This tiny human in his arms was his absolute world and even the thought of something happening to her terrified him.

"Princess, why did you run off?!" he didn't mean to sound harsh, he was just afraid

"I-I wanted to b..*snif* a big girl a-and, get snack," he rubbed her eyes "i couldn't..f-find y-you" her voice cracks as fat tears spilled from her eyes. his large thumbs wipe them away and he kisses her head

"It's okay baby," he cooed "you're with me, it's okay"

He finished the shopping and got the snacks like he had promised. He put her back in her car seat and bought her a happy meal. By the time he had gotten home, she was fast asleep after such an ordeal had gone down.

"So how was the trip?" you asked putting Eden down on couch so she could keep sleeping. While Noah put things away, you coming to help him

"Well it was...." he thought for a second "....quite a trip."

"You don't say" you say feeling skeptical. While you were still putting things away he just blurts out

"...she wandered off and I lost her for about 5 minutes-"

"WHAT?!"

「✨Taglist✨」 @lilhobgobbler @cncohshit @vir-tual @tdopomymind @concretenoah @misspygmypie @fvckmeorchokeme @lust-for-sacher @thescarlettvvitch @cind6547 @itsmrsfuentes @purple-lili @ima1986

[it-was-funeral-grey]

Rainy day procedure (Al Haitham x F!Reader)

Prequel Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Extra 1 Part 5 Masterlist

Summary: The Grand Bazaar receives an unexpected visitor on a rainy night.

Warnings: explanation about periods including parts of the female anatomy, period shaming, misogyny, mentions of sanitary pads and tampons, female anatomy, rain, mentions of pooling rainwater,

Word count: <2.4k words

Inspired by:-

Author's note: yea, i've seen a lot of people being ashamed of their periods. and a lot of men who make fun of people on their periods, saying mean stuff. I hope i write it in a way that's ok and easy to understand i hope it isn't too ooc too

if i wrote anything regarding this wrongly do tell me!

Please give criticism! Also, if i missed any warnings, do tell me so i can add them!

The Grand Bazaar has a big problem when it rains.

For some context, the Grand Bazaar is underground. To enter, you go through one of the three tunnels, which begin above ground along Treasures street.

So, unfortunately, when it rains, these tunnels end up as a drain, leading rainwater to pool in the Grand Bazaar. To make things worse, the Grand Bazaar isn't an open-air area. This makes the place unbearably humid when rainwater pools.

Alas, today is one of these days. Outside, the rain pours. And once again, the tunnels serve as the city's drain. The wooden doors at the end of the tunnel are powerless to stop the flowing rainwater, leading to a stream of it once again spilling all over the floors of the Grand Bazaar.

People of the Grand Bazaar have been petitioning for years for the Akademiya to solve this problem but to no avail. The best the Akademiya did was install a small step at the entrance of the tunnels, which was wholly useless. At best, it only served to trip unsuspecting guests on their way in.

It wasn't a secret. The Akademiya hated the Grand Bazaar and what it represented. They thought the arts were a useless endeavour- a distraction from the pursuit of knowledge. So, they tried everything to get rid of them. Banning public performances, threatening to shut down the theatre, you name it, they've tried it.

But things have changed now. Ever since Nilou's performance at the Akademiya plaza and the whole scandal at the Akademiya, the attitude towards them has improved. Restrictions on the arts have been lifted, and old laws regarding performances have been abolished. Things are really looking up for artists and the Grand Bazaar.

"Maybe it's time we tried asking the Akademiya again," groaned Afshin as he carried his wares away from the door and the incoming rainwater. Afshin's stall, regrettably, is right next to one of the entrances of the Grand Bazaar. "A simple gutter. That is all we want."

Nilou can only sigh at his statement. Mr Afshin isn't wrong, but asking the Akademiya for help is scary. They have been eerily quiet about matters regarding the arts as of late- not imposing rules and restrictions, but not expressing their support either.

"We shouldn't!" retorts Jut. "Let's not bring any attention to ourselves. It's already a blessing that they've gotten off our backs."

"But that's precisely why we should be asking! We should strike while the iron is hot! Who knows when they will decide to impose all those rules again?"

"But what if they decide to do so after we ask? What if they think we're a thorn in their side by asking again?" Jut argues as the two make their way to the stage with large boxes in hand.

The stage is the only place safe from rainwater on days like this. Everywhere else, rainwater will pool, destroying produce and wares. In the past, the moment it rained, losses were inevitable, as merchants could not move their wares away fast enough. But ever since Nilou received her Hydro vision, this didn't become such a big deal anymore. She'll hold back the water until everyone finishes loading their wares onto the stage before letting to water flow naturally into the bazaar. Then when the rain stops, she'll guide all the water into a nearby river. This is the usual procedure for rainy days.

After the last merchant loads their ware onto the stage, Nilou relaxes her hands, letting the water burst through the flimsy wooden doors. Muddy water fills the bazaar, and Nilou sighs again. Clean-up is going to be painful, especially since the rain is much heavier than usual today.

Everyone working in the Grand Bazaar congregates on stage, using the high ground to escape the flooded floor. Nothing unusual from rainy day procedure. Everyone will sit around the stage, complaining about closing their shops early, chatting, or eating snacks. Or, more commonly now, debating whether to ask the Akademiya for help again.

It's just another rainy day. And rainy day procedure was carried out. No one is expecting anything. There's nothing to expect. No customers, no deliveries, no audiences.

That was until a splashing sound was heard from off the stage, followed by a string of curses.

"Hey! What are you doing? It's flooded down there!" Afshin suddenly exclaims. In an instant, everyone's head perked up, turning towards him.

Worried that someone was stuck in the water (although it's barely knee-deep), Nilou immediately puts down her slice of Tachin, bolting to the edge of the stage. Looking in Mr Afshin's direction, she sees-

"Mr Al Haitham?" to say Nilou is shocked is an understatement. Gently parting the water so that he has a clear path to the stage, she continues. "What are you doing here?"

Al Haitham hurries over to the stage, muttering a quick thanks under his breath. By now, everybody on stage has gathered around, watching the unexpected visitor walk up the slope.

"It seems that I've come at an inconvenient time," Al Haitham states, glancing down at his dirty boots in discomfort before looking around. "And it seems that all shops are closed for the day."

"You're drenched! Quick, someone get him a towel!" Someone calls out.

"No need," Al Haitham shoots back. "I'll be heading off now."

And then he turns and begins walking off the stage, leaving everyone stunned.

He's just gonna leave like that?

"Wait!" Nilou finally calls out. He stops in his tracks and looks back at the dancer. "Is there something you need?"

"Well, if all the shops are closed-"

"Now, hold on a second!" Now Jut speaks up. "All our stuff is here! We can still sell you things!"

Some merchants murmur in agreement as they stand up and walk over to their wares.

"You've already walked through muddy water," Afshin says as he pulls out his items from a box. "Whatever it is you're finding must have been important."

Al Haitham looks away for a moment before turning back to the stage. Walking towards the preparing merchants, he glances at their wares.

"I just need clothes-"

Immediately, the merchants begin showing him what they have. Perhaps because of the lack of customers today, everyone seems more enthusiastic than usual.

"I'll sell this to you for a thousand- no, eight hundred Mora!"

"Don't listen to him! I'll give you this and that for eight hundred Mora!"

"I don't need-"

"You said you wanted a shirt, right?"

"Not in that size, smaller-"

"Five hundred Mora for you, sir!"

"Now, hold on-"

Al Haitham is surrounded by hopeful merchants pushing items into his hands, yelling prices into his ear. It's clearly an uncomfortable position to be in. Nilou decides to step in when she sees Jut drop a bottle of spice all over Al Haitham.

"Let's not overwhelm him, everyone!" Nilou declares. "Let's all calm down, ok?"

Right away, the merchants sheepishly back away from the man, who is now holding back a sneeze. Gathering Hydro, Nilou sends a bubble of water towards the spice-covered man, who eagerly uses it to wash off the spice.

"As I was saying," Al Haitham sighs, washing off the spice on his arms over the edge of the stage. "I only need clothes. Sleepwear, preferably. And toiletries. Not textiles, not toys," He turns to glare at Jut. "And most definitely not spices."

With that, some merchants go quiet and head back to their crates. Others stand in a neat row, offering items to the stern man one at a time.

"You mentioned you needed sleepwear? I have some here," the first merchant offers. "Two thousand Mora a set."

"That's fine," Al Haitham looks over the clothes. "Do you have it in a smaller size?"

"No, sir," the merchant replies. "Unfortunately, this is my last set."

"I'll take it."

Slowly, Al Haitham goes down the line, buying items. Sleepwear, snacks, room slippers, and then finally, toiletries.

"I'll also need sanitary pads or tampons as well."

"Eh?!" the last merchant exclaims. "Why would you need- I-"

"…Do you have it or not?"

"I do! It's just that- does your wife have no shame, sir? Making you buy her personal items?" the male merchant begins his rant.

"…Excuse me?"

"No need to explain, sir! I totally understand! My daughter does the same," the merchant continues, unaware of the glares everyone is currently shooting at him. "She complains that she's in pain or that she can't stand up for too long. But we all know it's just an excuse to skip out on work. Women, right? Such dramatic creatures."

The whole stage is silent, save for the sound of water flowing through the doors.

Now, Al Haitham isn't one to argue with others over a difference in opinion. It takes up too much time and energy. But this? He isn't going to let this slide.

"Wow, sir," Al Haitham begins, controlling his tone. But the sarcasm still slips through. "You clearly respect women."

"Well, I do have a wife and daughter! And I was supposed to study in Amurta-"

"Yet you still don't bother to learn how their bodies work," Al Haitham edges closer to the man. "Or perhaps you refuse to. Truly a disgrace to the nation of wisdom. And to all men."

"Why you-"

"Now, since clearly, no one has been able to stand your presence long enough to educate you, I will," Al Haitham is seething now. "You will hold all questions if any, until I'm done."

"Wha-"

"Periods are a natural, biological process that those born with a uterus undergo every month," Al Haitham begins, ignoring the merchant's sound of protest. "During this time, the uterine lining sheds and is passed out through the vagina."

The merchant's face goes completely red.

"Now, why are you so embarrassed?" Al Haitham asks with poorly concealed fury. "Those are just body parts. That also happens to be possessed by your supposedly beloved daughter and wife, no?"

The merchant does not respond. All around, other merchants and theatre workers murmur amongst themselves.

"Now, during one's period, it is not uncommon for muscle cramps to occur around the abdomen, back, and tighs," Al Haitham continues. "Other common occurrences are diarrhoea, mood swings, and fatigue, amongst many other things."

"But of course, it is different for anyone who goes through it. I've never experienced it, so I don't claim to understand how it feels- unlike some people," Al Haitham shoots him a death glare. "Neither do I claim that those who experience periods are faking discomfort because I believe in science and care about the wellbeing of the people around me. Unlike some people."

Al Haitham takes another step towards the merchant, nearly backing him up against the wall of the stage.

"Now, Mr Almost-Amurta, surely you trust science as well?" Al Haitham whispers. "Surely, you care about the women in your family?"

The merchant doesn't answer. He looks down at his feet, perhaps hoping that a hole will swallow him up and save him from the fuming man before him.

"I asked you a question."

"Yes! Yes, I do!"

"Then why," Al Haitham presses on. "Did you say such horrible and untrue things about them? Surely, you must know what they go through. Why the misogyny?"

"I'm not-"

"So shaming them about their period symptoms, which is something out of their control, and assuming that they use it as an excuse is not misogyny," Al Haitham rolls his eyes. "What else have you considered 'not misogyny' in your eyes?"

The man opens his mouth before closing it again. He's clearly at a loss for words.

"I suggest you grow up," Al Haitham tosses a bag of Mora at him before snatching his bag of items out of his hand. "And perhaps learn to listen to the struggles of those around you. Especially those you claim you care about. You don't need to be able to solve their problems. Just don't add to them."

With that, Al Haitham gathers his items, trying to fit everything in one bag.

"If you have any questions, I suggest you ask the women around you. Perhaps learn to listen to them. Archon knows you need to."

And off he went, walking off the stage with an astonished Nilou rushing behind him.

"Ah! Mr Al Haitham! Wait!"

"Yes?" 

Al Haitham has a foot in the water before Nilou helps him clear a path.

"Ah, thank you."

"Mr Al Haitham, just now...with Mr Zar," Nilou doesn't really know what to say. "Um..."

"So his name is Zar." Al Haitham prompts her to walk with him. "Has he given you all trouble before?"

"Well, no," Nilou stutters out. "We never knew he was like that. He's usually so kind, I..."

"Well, now you know. I'll leave the rest up to you all then," Al Haitham replies. Looking at the water around them, he continues. "Does flooding like this happen often?"

"Only when it rains. Usually, it isn't this bad."

"The heavy rain?"

"Yeah. It's usually ankle-deep at worse. Today is bad."

"I see."

They reach the wooden doors, and Al Haitham reaches out to open them. The rotting wood doesn't escape his sight.

"I'll be fine from here."

"Ah, the rain is still so heavy. I can walk you to your destination!"

"No need," Al Haitham states. "You should head back to the rest. And your Tachin."

"Ah, so you saw that."

"Your concern for others is touching," Al Haitham replies, taking a step up the slope. "I'll take my leave."

"Watch your step! It's slippery!"

"I will."

"Bye!"

Nilou watches the man leave the tunnel before turning back and making her way back to the stage. Preparing herself for the awkward atmosphere that she'll be facing in the next couple of seconds, a question suddenly pops into her mind.

Huh, she wonders, as she hears shouts of disapproval from the stage, I wonder who he's buying all those stuff for?

Oh, she'll find out soon enough. 

She, alongside many others, will have front-row seats to this new romance play that is currently showing. It'll be nothing like the usual romance plays Zubayr Theather shows on Tuesdays.

Prepare yourselves. The prologue is over.

Act I is about to begin.

Join the Taglist!

[indignantlemur]

Hi !

To you, how does common Andorian habitats look like (decoration, arrangement and number of rooms...) ?

Take care ! 👁️👄👁️ 💅🏼

Hello, zier!

So I spent some time thinking about this, as I generally do when asked a question, and this is what I've come up with.

Andorian homes and habitats vary pretty wildly depending on whether or not you're looking at smaller, modern homes for insulated family units, ancient Clan Lodges, smaller work-sleep apartments, bachelor/bachelorette pads, and so on.

Likewise, decorations and furniture can vary between all of these options. Structural arrangements are more static, at least.

🪐General Overview:

Homes of all types tend to be open plan affairs interrupted with strategic choke points and regrettably necessary load-bearing walls. Andorians don't generally go in for doors in most areas, and their concept of privacy is more theoretical than anything else - from a Human perspective, at least - but they also value security highly and will compromise such preferences for safety's sake.

Sanitary areas are, of course, another exception to the preference for open plans, but it's also very common for Andorians within a Clan to bathe and groom themselves communally or soak in hot springs together. Andorians don't view bodies as things to be hidden or to be ashamed of, and they view other species' tendencies to be body-shy as both bizarre and kind of adorable, if a little immature. Much like the Romans, most Andorians would spent all day in their hot springs and baths if they could get away with it and quite often a Clan Lodge's hot spring is a hub of social activity, particularly for Andorians who have been off-planet for some time. You're not properly home until you've had a good soak and caught up with everyone.

Sleeping quarters are separate from the main areas of the house, but the quarters themselves are large and mostly open. A popular design feature in Clan Lodges is a honey-comb like series of open, low-walled alcoves around the perimeter of a massive room, and another set around a central support beam in the middle of the room, effectively creating 'rooms' within the space. These alcoves can be collapsed or removed as needed, but no one is ever completely shut off from everyone else. Some Clans and families have a more permanent variation of this design that is built into the structure of the home itself and cannot be removed or collapsed; this allows for residents to have their own specific spaces within the home, more along the lines of how Humans think of their bedrooms, but even these are open to some degree.

Alternatively, on ships and smaller, more modern buildings you'll see the sleeping quarters as a large, inset area filled with cushions and blankets on what is effectively a floor-mattress. This is what Dagmar experienced on the transport ship to Andoria, and also in the Andorian embassy on Earth.

Kitchens and living rooms/dining areas tend to flow into one another, with the kitchen being marginally separated from the rest to manage heat output and such. Formal dining areas for observing particular traditions or hosting important guests do exist, and those are generally separate rooms, but most Andorians prefer to eat and sleep communally wherever they can; these formal rooms tend to gather dust for long stretches between events.

🪐Primary Differences:

Apartments: Work-sleep apartments and bachelor/ette pads are very similar in that they are small, compact, and generally barebones. They have all the amenities, but they're cookie-cutter basic with minimal ornamentation, three rooms total (bedroom, bathroom, open living/dining/kitchen/entrance). Dagmar lives in a work-sleep apartment adapted to suit her physiology (with doors - the horror!) which suits her just fine, but most Andorians regard them as a necessary evil to prevent ungodly commutes from their Clan territories and family homes to the major city centers. Generally, work-sleep apartments and pads are rented, limiting the amount of personalization possible, but those who make use of such residences usually go out of their way to compensate with wild furnishings and bold decorations.

Bachelor/ette pads are an even more spartan version of the work-sleep apartments, serving largely as crash pads for students and, quite often, young adults who'd prefer to play out of public view. They consist of the bare necessities and little else; generally speaking, the folks who make use of these pads aren't paying much attention to the decor or the appliances.

Some Clans own multiple work-sleep apartments and pads around their home cities for their clan members to make use of as needed. Technically, they are meant to be used for professional purposes, but as long as everything is in order when their clansman departs, no questions are asked. Many a young couple (or group, as the case may be) has taken advantage of this in the past.

Modern Homes: Modern homes are somewhere between work-sleep apartments and a Lodge, being larger and more expansive in size than an apartment by a significant margin but modest compared to the sprawling ancient strongholds. Modern homes tend to be closer to long-houses with wings added on, where all of the major gathering points (kitchen, living areas, sleeping quarters) are centrally placed while other facilities and are located in attached wings. Multiple stories are common, and usually a basement level is present for cold storage of food, but single level homes are also readily found.

Modern homes don't have access to hot springs, unless there's one available for the community at large, but that doesn't stop Andorians from constructing heated pools and steam-rooms to make up for the lack.

Fully customisable from painting to outright renovating and remodelling, each generation that lives in such a home leaves their mark upon the structure in some fashion or another.

Clan Lodges: Clan Lodges are built like ancient fortresses - because that's exactly what they are. Surrounded on all sides by towering walls, each Lodge is built to endure. Common historical features include: murder holes (also called meurtrières and machicolations), switch-back paths, massive portcullises, multiple internal gates and checkpoints, panic rooms, and barracks. Andorians adore murder holes. Additionally, Clan Lodges all have a central hearth-hall which is so named for the long, narrow hearth that runs down the center line of the room in an inset trench. Modern inventions have rendered these hearths largely symbolic, and many of the more cosmopolitan Clans have converted them to hard-light displays rather than constantly burning inefficient fuel.

Most Clan Lodges will have at least one courtyard, often multiple, and not one is decorative. Every courtyard serves a purpose, even if it's just to cultivate food or other natural resources. It is a poor Clan indeed who cannot boast at least one natural hot spring on their lands. Steam rooms and communal bathing facilities are not only common but expected, though the option to attend to matters of hygiene privately is available for those who are sick or injured.

A very small number of Lodges have the unique trait of having separate sleeping quarters for the different rankings within a Clan, but these are most commonly found in the very remote regions of Andoria and are generally looked upon as relics of a bygone era.

🪐Decorations and Arrangements:

Andorian decor is a riotous mix of wild colours, traditional folk art, modern textiles, and ancient carvings. Nearly every Andorian home has carvings throughout it, usually stonework or metal, often depicting historical events relating to the family or the Clan in some fashion. Wall tapestries are a common feature, as are heavy fur throws and decorative metalwork. There's no single rule for decorations. Just like how there's a great deal of variation in a single Human neighbourhood for furniture and decor, the same is true of Andorians.

That said, there are overarching design principles that can be applied.

Very little wood is used in Andorian design and architecture, as it's a rare and expensive material on their planet, and when it does appear it's usually as an accent rather than a main feature.

The furniture is always meant to accommodate groups of four or more. You won't see two barstools at a kitchen counter, for example, but four. Very rarely will you see configurations that Andorians would feel exclude someone from a larger group, particularly furniture intended for communal areas. Most furniture isn't terribly high off the ground, which can be jarring for some aliens, and beds in particular are either at ground level or inset into the floor.

Kitchens tend towards sleek designs for ease of maintenance and cleanliness, though that has never stopped Andorian families from adding their own personal touches to such rooms anyway.

Formal dining tables are often low-set affairs surrounded by cushions and floor-chairs, made up of lacquered rings that rotate clockwise or counter-clockwise as needed, usually laden with bowls and trays of offerings intended to be cooked in a central pot of hot oil, speared on long, two-pronged forks with hooked inner teeth. By contrast, casual dining arrangements are a much more familiar table-and-chairs set up, often in booths but not always.

Extremely formal arrangements, such as what might be seen at a high-level political dinner or gala, involve a long table studded with hot pots surrounded with stacks of tiered rings of similar trays and bowls, with the host seated at the head on one side and the most important guest seated opposite of them on the other. This is typically not seen outside of high society events.

While Humans might be tempted to apply a cold, modern-Scandinavian palette to their mental visions of Andorian homes, that couldn't be further from the truth. As a people, they value warmth and colour and comfort in their homes, and the sterile, minimalist aesthetic often seen on Earth is actually very off-putting for them.

Hope this answers everything!

[violottie]

(cw: sexual violence against women) read, then reblog.

🇵🇸 Today marks International Women’s Day, where we commemorate the efforts by countless women across the global south resisting an imposition of power. Below are harrowing accounts from defiant, powerful Palestinian women resistance fighters interrogated in Israeli prisons."

from essad_48, 08/Mar/2024: caption cont under images

📚 Extracts from Captive Revolution Palestinian Women’s Anti-Colonial Struggle within the Israeli Prison System:

“Targeting women’s body and sexuality was a policy used in Israeli prison interrogations of Palestinian female detainees. Women complained about the refusal of the interrogator or the prison guard to provide them with sanitary pads during menstruation. Detainees who were sentenced and placed in prison rooms would rip some of the rags used as bed sheets or covers and use these; others in solitary confinement, in isolation cells or during interrogation would be left bleeding all over their only pants.“

“Having female detainees watch the torture of male detainees in order to frighten them and force them to collaborate was not unusual in the experience of many. Israeli prisons’ techniques of torturing Palestinian political prisoners included ‘Shabeh’ and ‘kees’ among others. The term mashbooh, or mashbooheen for the plural refers to detainees who are bound to either a chair or the wall, with their hands tied behind their backs or on top of their heads. The actual act is known as shabeh. The term kees, used by various interviewees refers to a black hood placed over the head and shoulders and often reeks of urine smell.”

“The women had and continued to have agency, will-power and the determination to effect changes in their own and their people’s lives. The women in the conversations were well-versed in Palestinian resistance culture and exposed themselves to a large body of the world’s cultures of resistance.”

[sequinsmile-x]

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Fifty Six

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi friends,

Thank you so much for the reaction to the last chapter, comments (even the ones yelling...especially those actually haha) mean the absolute world to me.

Please let me know what you think of this chapter <3

-x-

Words: 3.1k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

The house is silent as they walk in the front door, the sound of the lock clicking behind them echoing throughout their home, louder than either one of them dared to be. Even Lily was quiet, fast asleep in her car seat as Aaron slowly lowered it to the ground. He looks at his wife who is standing in the hallway, looking lost in their home, and his heart aches for her, for their family. 

He looks at the plastic bag in his other hand, filled with medication for Emily and large sanitary pads he knew were the same ones she’d been sent home with after she had Lily. He didn’t want her to worry about any it, didn’t want her to have to do anything other than try and recover from the loss neither of them had seen coming, so he places the bag down too, making a mental note to put it all away in a little while so Emily had access to the products when needed. 

The doctor they had seen in the emergency room estimated that Emily had been about 5 weeks along in the pregnancy neither of them had known about. It lined up with Emily’s suspicions about the antibiotics she’d been on, and he was furious at himself for not thinking about it, for grabbing at the chance for some alone time with his wife all those weeks ago without thinking about the consequences. 

The doctors had given her some medication and told her to make an appointment with her usual doctor in a few days to make sure it had worked. He hadn’t missed how she’d barely paid attention to the instructions, a ghost of a memory flashing across her face as she was handed the box of pills. She’d taken them once before, when she was a child herself and knew it was her only option. A choice she’d made, not one that her body had made for her that she didn’t, and would likely never, understand. 

In a way that makes him feel guilty, he hopes the medication does its job, that it saves her from having to endure a surgical procedure.  

He unbuckles Lily from her car seat and carefully lifts her into his arms, grateful that when he secures his daughter against his chest she doesn’t stir. 

“Em,” he says carefully, the guilt sparking in his belly again when she jumps, lost in a daze as she stares at a picture that Haley had taken on their wedding day, their joint hands on Emily’s bump. She turns to look at him and tilts her head expectantly, “I’m just going to put her down in her crib,” he says, and she nods. She walks over and kisses Lily’s head, an edge of desperation to it that makes him want to cry, and then she steps out of the way, “Why don’t you go sit on the couch and I’ll come sit with you?”

She nods at his suggestion, “Yeah,” she says, her voice cracking, raw and torn open from the crying that hadn’t seemed to stop the entire time they were at the hospital, “Okay.” 

She’d only spoken in one-word answers since the doctors had confirmed that she was miscarrying, leaving it up to him to ask the important questions. He didn’t mind, he’d do anything for her, but it worried him. 

“Do you need anything?” He asks, shifting from side to side slightly to keep Lily asleep. Emily shakes her head. 

“No,” she replies, forcing a smile, “Thanks.” 

She watches him go, her eyes fixed on his back as he walks up the stairs, his voice soft as he speaks to their sleeping daughter. As soon as she’s alone she blows out a slow breath and presses her hand to her lower stomach. It felt like her c-section scar was trying to burst open from within, a phantom ache on top of the very real pain she was experiencing, the combination enough to drive her mad. They’d given her something for the pain, but she’d refused any strong painkillers, her desire not to have to stop feeding Lily herself outweighing her concern for herself. 

She didn’t want to lose that too. 

She closes her eyes and it pushes tears down onto her cheeks and she wipes them away immediately. She shakes her head at herself as she walks slowly to the living room, the rustle of the disposable underwear she was wearing that the hospital had given her making her tense. She lowers herself onto the couch and immediately grabs a cushion, pushing it against her abdomen for comfort. She’s not sure if it’s to try to dull the pain, or to provide protection that had come a little too late, but she does it anyway. She sits and stares at nothing, not able to focus on anything except the pain and the confusion that was thrumming through her. 

She hadn’t known she was pregnant, hadn’t figured out what was happening until it was already over, so why did she feel so empty? So devastated. 

So guilty for something she knows she couldn’t have prevented. 

She has no idea how long she sits there by herself, time slipping past her as she continues to stare straight ahead, before Aaron walks into the room. He’s careful not to spook her, moving slowly like she’s a caged animal, and making just enough noise that he alerts her of his presence. 

“She stayed asleep,” he says, placing the baby monitor down on the coffee table before he sits on the couch, making sure he gives his wife plenty of room, wanting to give her as much space as she needs no matter how much he wants to pull her into a hug, “She might even have her whole nap today.” 

Emily presses her lips together and nods, clearing her throat as she looks at him, his face, his sadness, coming into focus for the first time since they’d come home, “Good,” she says, holding the cushion in her arms even tighter, “I’m glad.” 

They fall into silence. It’s awkward, overbearing in a way it never was in their home, and they both hate it. 

“I’m meant to go pick up Jack in a few hours,” he says, watching her carefully for a reaction, a micro expression that would tell him what she was thinking, “I’ll call Haley and let her know we can’t have him this week.” 

She looks up at him from where her gaze had fallen on the couch, her eyebrows furrowed, her face pinched together in pain, “What? No, that’s okay. He’s…he’ll be excited. He kept talking about how he wanted to show Lily how to make snow angels.”

Aaron is sure he’s never loved her more, and it breaks his heart. She was in pain, physically and emotionally, and clearly still in shock, but she was still trying to put everyone else first, her own welfare always one of her last considerations. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, inching closer, grateful when she doesn’t flinch, “Please be honest with me, would you rather it was just us for a few days whilst you…whilst you recover?” He asks, reaching out and resting his hand next to her leg, still unsure if she wants to be touched. 

Her chin shakes as she presses her lips together firmly, a failed attempt to keep her emotions in check as tears spill onto her cheeks. She loved Jack like her own, loved having him here, but right now she didn’t know if she could put on a brave face, if she could be the version of herself that he needed. 

Aaron was the only person she was comfortable enough around to fall apart, which was something she knew was coming. She could feel it happening, the fractures in the walls she’d built around herself crumbling, the foundations of them shaking with every wave of pain that rolled through her. 

“What about Haley?” She asks, “I…I don’t want to cause any problems.” 

He finally places his hand on her leg, any attempt to stop himself from reaching out for her failing, and he squeezes tightly in a way he hopes is comforting. She places her hand over his and holds on just as tightly, the diamond from her engagement ring rough as it presses against his skin. 

“I’ll speak to her,” he says, and she nods, her wordless confirmation that it was what she wanted all he needed, “You’re my priority, Em.” 

“I…please don’t tell her what happened,” she says, her lower lip trembling as she starts to cry, “I don’t…I don’t want anyone to know.” 

She couldn’t explain it. She knows she hasn’t done anything wrong, that she couldn’t have changed this outcome even if she’d known she was pregnant, but her lungs were so stuffed full of shame and guilt she could barely breathe. She didn’t want anyone to know, and whilst she liked Haley, she really didn’t want her husband’s ex-wife to be a part of this. 

He shifts closer to her and she leans into his side, her hands tight in the back of his shirt as she cries into his neck. He runs his hand up and down her back, “Of course, Em. I won’t tell her.” 

Her chest shudders as she tries to breathe, everything she wants to say but the words are caught in her chest, making her feel like she was going to burst from the inside out. She pulls back to look at him and he cups her cheek, his skin warm against hers as he wipes away tears that are immediately replaced. 

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out, “I’m really sorry.”

Aaron pulls her closer, holding her tightly to his chest as he hides the fact he’s crying now too, her pain his Achilles heel. “Oh sweetheart,” he says, kissing the top of her head, “You have nothing to apologise for.” 

They sit like that, curled together, grief wrapped around them like a cloying blanket, until Lily wakes up from her nap. 

___

Over the next few days, it feels like she’s barely existing. 

Life happens around her, but it’s off balance. She feels like she’s underwater, everything muffled and out of focus as she tries to carry on. 

Aaron and Lily are the only reprieve, brief flashes of normality that she hangs on to to keep afloat. 

Aaron had called in sick for her and himself for the next week. He’d lied and said they both had the flu, a bug that Lily had picked up from daycare - the same excuse he’d given a slightly disbelieving Haley when he told her they couldn’t have Jack this week. Emily had told him he was okay to go to work, that she’d be fine, but he’d refused. He’d stayed home and looked after her, something that she was more grateful for than she thought she would be. 

There was a time when she would have wanted to be alone, when solitude would have been the space she needed to put herself back together, but she didn’t want that anymore. She wanted him with her all the time, his presence reassuring and loving as he slowly helped her pick up all of her pieces that had unexpectedly shattered on their bathroom floor on what was supposed to have been a normal night. 

She wonders if she should hate that she’s so reliant on someone else these days, but she can’t. He was part of her, and she was part of him. This is what they did for each other. 

They knew where each other's pieces went, diligently slotting them back into place without question.

“Emily?” 

She blinks and clears her throat, tearing her eyes from the ceiling of the doctor’s office that she’d been staring at. She turns her head and looks at her husband as he squeezes her hand, his smile soft and reassuring as he nods down towards her doctor. Emily looks at Doctor Gibson, the woman smiling at her with endless patience, and she presses her lips together. 

“Sorry,” she says, “I guess I paid a little too much attention to your ‘stare at the ceiling’ comment.” 

Doctor Gibson chuckles politely and removes the probe from Emily, apologising as she winces at the sensation, 

“The miscarriage is complete,” Doctor Gibson says, her smile soft and encouraging, and infuriating in ways Emily doesn’t entirely understand as Aaron helps her sit up whilst she removes her legs from the stirrups, “So we won’t have to take any further action.” 

Emily nods, “Good,” she says, clearing her throat when her voice shakes a little, “That’s good.”

Doctor Gibson puts the probe back on its stand, “If you just take a moment to get dressed, I just need to speak to you and your husband about a couple of things.” She says as she stands up and walks away, pulling the curtain closed around them as she goes. 

Emily rolls her eyes as she swings her legs over the edge of the bed, reaching out for her underwear and pants as Aaron passes them to her, “Thanks honey,” she says, hooking her clothing over her feet and shimming into them, “I never understand why they close the curtain after an examination,” she says, her voice strained as she stands up, pulling her pants up to her waist, “She just had her hand about an inch from my vagina.” 

Aaron knows what she’s doing, and has loved her long enough to know she’s using humour as a defence mechanism, her nerves fraying in a way he can practically see. He reaches for her shoes and encourages her to sit down again, pulling one of her feet into his lap so he can put her shoes on for her. 

“I’m sure it’s something about maintaining your dignity,” he says, paying close attention as he loops the laces of her sneakers into perfect bows. 

She hums, watching as he does up her other shoe for her. She didn’t need the help, not really, but she knew he needed to control something, to look after her somehow so she was letting him fuss over her in a way she usually wouldn’t. There’s an intimacy to it that seems absurd given the fact he’s simply doing up her shoes, but it’s something she’d never let anyone else do for her.

“Depending on who you ask I lost that a long time ago,” she quips and he chuckles, shaking his head at her as he finishes tying her lace. She smiles tightly at him as she stands up, and he does the same. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her into a hug he knows she needs. 

“You okay?” He asks, tucking some hair behind her ear as he pulls back to look at her. She sighs and she shrugs. 

“I don’t know,” she replies honestly, “I…I’m glad it’s over,” she says, shaking her head at herself as a tear falls onto her cheek, “Physically at least.” 

He leans in and kisses her forehead, “Let’s go see what Doctor Gibson wants to say and then we’ll go home, okay?” 

She nods and reaches for his hand, linking their fingers together as he pulls the curtain open and leads them over to Doctor Gibson’s desk. She was sitting there patiently, acting as if she hadn’t been able to hear their entire conversation through the thin curtain. 

“Please,” she says, pointing to the seats opposite here, “Take a seat.” 

They sit down and Aaron shifts his chair slightly closer to his wife, making sure their hands are still linked as they settle. 

“I just wanted to take a moment to speak to you about family planning and your birth control options,” Doctor Gibson says, sliding some pamphlets across her desk to them. 

Emily feels her cheeks go red and she clenches her teeth for a moment before she clears her throat. 

“I wasn’t intending to get pregnant,” she explains, picking at her cuticle as she speaks. Aaron reaches over and places his hand over hers, stopping the nervous habit before she can make herself bleed. She feels embarrassed, like she’s a teenager being given the talk and she clenches her teeth as she looks down at her lap, “I am on birth control,” she says, “I was on antibiotics for mastitis and I…I just didn’t think about it.”

Doctor Gibson sighs as she looks at the couple in front of her, “I would recommend exercising caution going forward. Your body is still recovering from the trauma of your last labour and your emergency c-section, a pregnancy could have serious complications for you or a fetus at this stage.”  

Aaron frowns, familiar fear licking at his insides, burning up his throat in a way he remembers from when Emily had been wheeled away from him when Lily’s birth suddenly went wrong. He holds her hand even tighter for a moment, the warm press of her skin against his reassuring. 

Emily nods, “Okay, we’ll be careful,” she says, her eyes flicking to her husband before she looks back at Doctor Gibson, “We would like to have more children in the future though, will that be possible?” 

“I see no reason why it shouldn’t be, miscarriages are sadly very common, and many women go on to have healthy pregnancies afterwards. But I would recommend waiting until you’re at least a year postpartum before you start trying again.” 

“A year?” She asks, curiosity getting the better of her, “Lily is only 5 months old, what if I hadn’t miscarried?”

Doctor Gibson sighs and clasps her hands together on the table in front of you, “I’ll be honest with you, Emily. If you were still pregnant my recommendation would be to have a termination.” 

She feels everything stops at the suggestion, her body tense as her doctor’s words wash over her. It’s too much to take onboard, too much to try and process. She’d spent every day since she’d lost the baby desperately trying not to compare the situation to Rome, trying not to see the parallels she wanted to ignore. All of that effort disappears in a split second, the weight of everything she’d been trying to avoid weighing heavily on her shoulders. 

Aaron feels her hand go limp in his and he looks over, her expression unreadable as she stares at the doctor. Emily’s tongue darts out to moisten her lower lip before she speaks, her eyes shining as she turns to look at him. 

“Can we go home please?”

He looks at Doctor Gibson, aware that the conversation wasn’t over, that there was still more to discuss, and then back at his wife, “Em-”

“Please?” She repeats, cutting him off, “I really just want to go home and see Lily.” 

She wants to see her daughter. To hold her. To remind herself of what she had, of what she hadn’t lost. 

He nods, squeezing her hand as tightly as he can, his heart clenching in his chest when she doesn’t squeeze back, “Yeah, of course, whatever you want, Em.” 

Her only response is a bitter laugh as they stand up, and he knows any progress she’d made in the last several days has just been undone. 

-x-

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Twd Daryl Dixon A world of our own Chapter 5: Outside these walls

”Mornin chica wakey wakey I got some coffee in thermos’ & packed us some supplies so let’s head out I need to find a few things anyway” rolling off of the bed swinging your legs onto the floor grabbing your combat boots & lacing them up grabbing a flannel to throw over your tank top to cover your back and shoulders & snatching up your backpack you turn to your best friend with a grin on your face “let’s roll biotch” shaking her head at you huffing out a laugh as you both head outside and towards the gates where Glenn and Eugene are on watch “mornin gentlemen” you wink at them just to bust their balls “where are you ladies heading?” Glenn asks out of sheer curiosity “eh going out to look for a little something to work on & Rosita here needs a few things anyway so girls day out” he nods “cool if you happen to come by any baby stuff I’d appreciate it Maggie hasn’t had much luck so far” you both agree happy to help “yeah sure no problem Glenn we got ya” both using the van you head out as Eugene and Glenn open the gates & you and Rosita start down the road south bound where you think you may have seen just the thing when you were out here last time coming back from the clinic having to take a back detour due to a large heard of draggers. The ride is quiet both of you just enjoying the wind with the windows down before you know it you’re in front of an old general store “Ready? Need some feminine hygiene products for myself and some of the other girls so if you see anything grab it. We’re gonna clear it then I’m gonna take the front you take the back” “got it let’s roll” you grab your spear & sheath your knives before hopping out of the van walking to an old dirty window wiping a clear spot to peer inside knocking on it to see if anything stirs inside. After a moment when all is still quiet and still you know it’s okay to open the door Rosita heads in first aiming her gun at any potential threat as you have your back against hers checking out her blind spots. Everything’s good to go as you head off towards the back. The entire store a disaster things all over the place watching your step as you make your way to a large pile of miscellaneous items digging through to see what you can find coming across some ibuprofen disinfectant sprays and then finally “Jackpot” you wave Rosita over her eyebrow pinched as she tries to hear you “over here boo look” making her way over a large pile of tampons pads and sanitary wipes “sweet let’s load up and we can check that spot & we’ll be back home before lunch” loading up you both pack all you can fit into your bags and arms heading to the van “hold on I’m gonna run back in just give me a second” you bolt back inside smiling you snatching the entire shelf of candy into an old shopping basket heading back outside with a shit eating grin “what the fuck is all that chica?” You roll your eyes laughing “our lifeline when we’re cramping and wanting to rip people to shreds chocolate is a girls best friend” shaking her head at you as you put the basket in the back with everything else you hop back in your seat & toss her your cd case “here you pick” she grins quickly flipping throughout the pockets of each disc before you starts cracking up laughing “no fuckin way i haven’t seen or heard this in forever what do you know about this chica blanca?” You turn to see what she pulled out and laugh back “girl you do know that Italian is just Spanish with a few changed vowels if you can understand Spanish you can understand Italian I promise you” giggling as you answered taking the disc and popping it in pressing play “Selena was a goddess & her voice is like silk I don’t know I had a best friend when I was little she played her music all the time her dad used to be in a tejano band they’d play on special holidays it was nice to see someone with a good sense of family” “yeah my mom loved her if it wasn’t for her naming me after her late sister I’m sure my name would’ve been Selena instead of Rosita” “I think your name is beautiful I like it”

The music starts to vibrate it’s way from the speakers as No Me Queda Más sweeps you away in deep thought before you know it you’re snapped out of it by the sound of Rosita singing so you decide to join right in because why not 🎼”Yo tenía una esperanza en el fondo de mi alma Que un día te quedaras tú conmigo Y aún guardaba una ilusión que alimentaba el corazón Mi corazón que hoy tiene que verte como solo amigo Y aunque viví enamorada y totalmente equivocada No me importa Porque esto sí fue amor Por mi parte, lo más lindo, el más grande amor Y aunque siempre lo renuncies, para mí Fue lo más bello”🎼 seeing a small shop having her stop just to take a look inside. After clearing it of two puss filled walkers you finally make your way through the aisles each of you carrying a basket filled with different baby things bottles, burp cloths, onesies, itty bitty socks, diapers and wipes before putting everything in the backseat. “I hope this is good until we can find a place with some baby furniture” “yeah but we found a good amount of stuff today and the amount of formula cans I grabbed Maggie will be set for at least the first few months” “alright let’s get the fuck outta here”. The ride home felt great both of you feeling pretty accomplished for it just being the two of you when you get back you see Abraham and Sasha at the gate waving at you both as they open it and you pull in. You had Rosita park the van towards Aaron’s to drop off your bike the other day he said if you happened to find what you were looking for that he had parts to spare after Daryl was done in there those parts kind of just sat there unless something needed replacing. Carol is on the porch drinking hot tea and smoking a cigarette as you both hop you of the van. You threw your poncho over one of the crates & untied the bike from the van pushing it into the garage as Rosita took the vehicle back to the front. After you park up and grab the basket you head towards the house with a shit eating grin nothing could kill the mood you’re currently in “what’s got you so smiley scout?” Carol says giving you a kind smile “found us a little somethin somethin I think you’ll be happy after you see what I got in here” she chuckles “as long as it’s nothing gross or scary” shaking your head you sit next to her and peel up just a bit of the material so she can peek inside she tilts her head trying to get a better look that’s when all the wrappers catch her eye “holy shit that’s a lot of chocolate” you laugh “sure is and if anyone can make something amazing out of it I know it’s you plus us girls can have a small stash for when we’re cranky” “let’s take this inside before we get seen” you both go inside finding a nice cool dark cabinet to store it in. You hear the sound of boots walking across the floor causing you and Carol to jump up trying to look innocent but failing as Daryl stops making a confused face at the pair of you “why does it look like ya two are up ta somethin?” Carol trying to play it cool “we’re not up to anything nothing at all right scout?” “Yup nothing going on here just uh…” you grab a hand towel “just… cleaning the kitchen dusting ya know girl stuff?” You side eye Carol with a tight lipped smile trying hard not to laugh “yup just.. cleaning out the kitchen me and scout are gonna make sourdough bread tomorrow want to make sure everything is nice and clean so we can just get right to it” he looks at her then you then her again “alrigh?… I’m gonna go huntin I’ll probably be back tomorrow maybe day after” “okay be safe” Carol looks at him with a serious stare you just give him a see you later kind of nod not wanting to really say much about him leaving and how it’s currently bothering you that you don’t want him to go but you’re also feeling anger towards him maybe even frustration but you play it cool as always as he gears up and leaves the two of you standing there. Night falls quick and Carol went off to

Ricks so you decided to walk over the Aaron’s garage to tinker around with your new toy. Upon further inspection there really was only a few minor things to be done after changing the old brake line out for a new one fixing the carburetor and a few fuses before putting some ethanol into the gas tank pushing her outside to try and start her up. Opening the garage door fully you see the beautiful sunrise not realizing just how long you’ve been in there working on it shrugging your shoulders as you hop onto the seat to rev it up but something just isn’t r right yet. After about an hour of tinkering around you try again to finally hear the sound of the engine kick on purring like a kitten “fuck yeah!” Aaron walks outside with a coffee shaking his head chuckling at you “I see you got it up and running pretty quickly” “oh yeah my best friends father was a mechanic taught me everything he knows and I like having a project to mess with keeps my mind busy” nodding at you he checks out your work “nice sounds pretty good too” feeling quite proud of yourself you decided to treat yourself to an early morning ride heading towards the gate as Glenn sees you pulling up “sweet ride” smiling at you “thanks just needed a little love is all I might paint it too we’ll see” you shrug “well be careful out there & come back in one piece” he says jokingly you laugh shaking your head as he pulls it open to let you out. You whiz past him desperate for the feeling of the wind through your hair oh how you’ve missed the sense of freedom that comes with riding like nothing in the world could touch you. When you were a kid you were gifted nonno’s old Harley it was beyond repair when you first got it but over the course of three years you had it up and running your father hated it and would try and take the keys to it hiding it during one of his drunken rages but after awhile you learned to keep them hidden from him putting them under a planter in the front yard whenever you could escape his fists or harsh words or the nights he’d throw thing’s blaming you for all that’s gone wrong in his life. The smell of damp leaves and grass as you take a deep breath in basking in the warmth the sun gave. Not all to sure where you’re going and at the moment you really don’t care letting the wind take you wherever she intended taking note of any new place to scavenge in later and let the others know. You’ve been riding for about an hour when you spot a stream deciding it’d be a good place to park up behind a big oak tree to see if there were any fish to catch taking your spear off your back heading towards the water tips of your boots just touching the water taking your time letting them come to you *whack* you get your first one “Ha got ya bitch!” Pulling it off tying it to some twine you keep in your bag heading back to the water peering over seeing a much larger one slowly making its way closer to you as you adjust your arm *whack* “booya fucker!”

You laugh yet again tying up another just as your about to head back to look for another you hear a distant gun shot peeking your interest making you look in its direction leaving everything but your weapons you run towards the sound hearing a second shot whizzing past the trees you skid down a hill covered in dead leaves only to find Daryl surrounded by a small crowd of walkers “shit” you take off towards him with your spear not wasting a second stabbing the first one in its head kicking it off your spear before hip checking another one over stomping in its head one grabs your arms and you turn so fast you give yourself whiplash stabbing it through the chin directly into its brain it’s now that Daryl notices you eyes wide as one goes for you from the side you’re not looking “scout left” you whip around stabbing it with one of your knives he’s out of arrows and bullets you see that now as hes taking out what he can with his barehands you make your way to his back handing him one of your knives he readies his arm next to his face both of you in a fight stance back to back with about 7 walkers circling in “on go ya hear me?!” Daryl asks “yeah I hear ya”

“ready now!!” You fight with all you’ve got getting two for one with your knife and spear before throwing it directly into the biggest ones head and the fourth one grabs at you causing you to fall over with it and this is the most disgusting one you’ve seen yet it was definitely in the water for quite awhile beings how bloated it was the smell alone was enough to kill any small animal your knife fell so now you’re fighting it off “fuck scout!!” Daryl’s killing his last two “hey over here ya fat piece of shit!!” It’s enough to distract it from trying to eat you for the time being giving you enough time to grab a large rock bashing in it’s head painting your whole upper half in blood before you know it your being lifted up and pulled away “alrigh’ I got ya girl it’s gonna be alrigh’” you didn’t even realize you’re completely out of it at the moment never being that close to dying before by the hands of one of those monsters has you in a state of shock Daryl crouches down in front of you at eye level finger under your chin inspecting you for any injuries before sitting down in front of you resting a hand on your shoulder “you alrigh? It’s okay not to be sometimes jus promise not to do tha when we gotta fight them bastards” you look up at him for the first time letting tears pass your cheeks before hiding your face from him “thank you” you murmur but loud enough to where he heard you “its no problem” he shrugs “what ya doin out here by yerself anyhow?” You pull your knees to your chest “I just wanted to take a ride and stopped to go fishing and heard shots figured it was one of our people came to check” shaking his head “ya gotta be more careful woman what if it wasn’t one of us?” “Me more careful you almost became lunch if not for me” “I saved yer ass too!” He gruffs you scoff “I didn’t say you didn’t but notice how I’m the only one who said thank you?.. you know what fuck this I’m outta here” you push up from where you sit and start to walk away “wait!” “What?!” Silence falls over the both of you “I’m sorry” he says above a whisper “sorry.. can’t hear you” you heard him but wanna make him say it louder just out of spite “I said I’m sorry an…. Thank ya fer… bein there I ain’t used to many people given a shit” he shrugs “it’s whatever” you roll your eyes turning back around “wait where ya goin?” You let out a loud sigh before looking at him over your shoulder “to my bike to go fishing need to clear my head” “mind if I… mind if I come with ya?” You think for a moment “sure hurry up I don’t want my shit getting stolen or something” he snatches up the arrows he couldn’t get to before and hands you your spear before you duck under a large branch heading back in the direction you came from “so uh.. you ride too huh?” You laugh under your breath a bit “um yeah.. I’ve been riding since I was a kid” “thas pretty cool” “I guess” you shrug making it back to your spot cleaning off your spear with some vodka you have in your bag and a clean rag making your way over to the water to go see if there’s any catch left before it starts getting too late “wait.. you ain’t go no fishin line?” You chuckle waving your spear back and forth “don’t need it” you looks at you with a puzzled expression “ain’ no way in hell you catchin shit with tha” he starts to laugh “oh yeah well there’s two by that tree already & I’m fixing to get a few more so watch me smart ass” you arch your brow at him smirk & walk to the water toeing into the water taking your time seeing a few just out of reach waiting patiently for them to come to you Daryl curiously coming towards where you are but not in the water as to not disturb what you’re doing he thinks you’re gonna fall in but he’s about to find out what you’re really made of. They start slowly swimming over near a large rock big enough for your small feet fo stand on so you take the opportunity being extra cautious not to spook them *whack* “no fuckin way!” Daryl looks at you with surprise but amusement on his face you laugh getting back over enough to toss it to him to tie with the others *whack*

Before he’s even really near the tree you got the last two beings they weren’t as big Daryl’s head snaps in your direction & the fucker smiles and starts laughing at you shaking his head “yer bat shit but that was fuckin awesome” walking over not caring to wet your boots you take the last two off shrugging “not a big deal” “ha! Ma ass I ain’ never seen a man do tha let alone a woman no offense” your laughing at him “see smart ass you just can’t help yourself” shaking your head “hey I ain’ say it was bad” smirking at you & it totally feels like he’s checking you out so you roll your eyes & grab your gear “grab them fish Dixon & let’s get the hell home before dark so I can clean these” he grabs his stuff & the fish “I walked here..” “I know that goofball I’m giving you a ride back” he looks at you funny “uh uh I ain ridin bitch” “my bike my rules I bet you wouldn’t let me ride your bike unless I road bitch so quit your bitchin & get in the bitch seat fucker” he huffs throwing his bow over his shoulder getting on the back you feel his hands tense flat palm against your hips “uh Daryl if you don’t hold on you’re gonna fall off” you feel his shaky palms try and find a comfortable spot finally calming enough you start your bike & head off down the road. It’s a few minutes into riding you finally feel him fully relaxed leaning his chest against your back feeling his muscles not that you were complaining. You smile to yourself feeling the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. There’s just something about him you feel like you’re magnetically drawn to him by spirit. Your cheeks hurting from the smile plastered on your face can’t remember the last time you smiled this much. Soon you feel his thumbs caressing your sides tickling your ribs now you’re blushing and you know it because you feel extremely hot in the face right now regardless to the chilled wind that’s currently hitting you in the face. You wish this ride didn’t have to end so soon having the feeling of him this close & having him hop off and walk away missing that closeness his body warmth the way for some reason you felt so safe around him and he makes your heart race. Those crystal blue eyes drawling you in like a moth to a flame. You just wish you had to the balls to tell him wished you didn’t feel deformed or hideous. Just because you have a pretty face but underneath is a nightmare of hells past a daily reminder who would love something so awful looking. Your dreams of the little house on the prairie life faded to black buried deep within your heart it’s also where the brave little girl you were hides & only comes out on occasion. Dragging your feet away from your bike head hung low you go try to find a spot to just be live blank out or let it out whatever may happen when you get there….

[wishing-stones]

Don't imagine Error, Boss or/and Axe dealing with an s/o who has debilitating cycle/endo pain and all the cute things that come with!

(Please note that my Don't Imagines are largely still closed, but she gets Partner Privileges<3)

Hard to write as "Don't imagine" so it's gonna be the usual Headcanon style!

Error doesn't.... know what to do, really. Why is his human doubled over in pain? Why are you crying and unable to move? This is usually something humans go to the hospital for, right? He knows about cycles and whatnot, but he doesn't know until it's explained to him that it can come with extreme amounts of pain like this. He does his best to help-- you don't have to move or get up except to change sanitary stuff, which... if he has to, he'll carry you to go do that and then... wait until you're done to carry you back. He'll gladly get painkillers and a hot pad and whatever else you need. He tries to play it off like he's cool and only mildly inconvenienced, but you can catch the sidelong, deeply concerned looks he gives you when he thinks you don't notice them.

Boss has a similar "whatever you need I'll get it" sort of deal, but he does know what's going on because... he reads. Humans fascinated him so much when he came up to the surface, he spent a good six months reading medical texts before he discovered a love of shredding paper-thin defenses in a courtroom. He will gladly sit with you and a hot pad, offer gentle lower back massages, nuzzles, makes sure you have painkillers, and whatever else you need to feel comfortable. He also gleefully cooks for you, and picks easy-to-eat, gentle meals that he hopes won't make the problem worse. He also, notably, unflinchingly goes to get whatever supplies you need, too. He will proudly waltz out of a store with a box of tampons under his arm. Axe is exceedingly gentle with you, landing somewhere in the middle of Boss' "Everything you need at the drop of a hat, and comfort" and Error's "I don't know what I'm doing but I'm doing my best." He does know what's going on and why, but he isn't sure how to help beyond being an errand boy and helping you where you need it. He also offers little massages, and is almost always in contact with you unless he needs to get up to make food, or when you have to go change your sanitary products. Shockingly, the blood doesn't bother him in the slightest-- it isn't fresh, arterial blood and smells a little different. Plus, it's not in his line of sight. He's even okay to handle any stained sheets or clothing-- he is brilliant at getting blood out of things. He's a little reluctant to sleep around you, though-- he's afraid that the combination of your noises of distress and the scent of blood will wake him up in a state no one wants him to be in... ...He winds up falling asleep on you, so he doesn't really get a choice in the matter. He wakes up fine, and between his head on your abdomen and the hot pad, the warm pressure probably helps a lot.