#laughing thrush

[happybirdday]

Today's Bird of the Day is the White-crested Laughing Thrush

The White-crested Laughing Thrush (Garrulax leucolophus) is a vibrant bird known for its striking white crest, dark facial mask, and chestnut-brown body. Native to South and Southeast Asia, it thrives in dense forests and bamboo thickets. These social birds form noisy flocks, communicating with loud, laughter-like calls. Omnivorous, they forage for insects, fruits, and seeds, playing a vital ecological role in seed dispersal and pest control. Breeding pairs build nests in shrubs, with both parents raising their chicks. Though listed as Least Concern by the IUCN, habitat loss and the pet trade threaten some populations of this lively, charismatic bird.

Read more here

Photo taken by me at this location

[gazellesapphire]

Look at this... 👀

Look at this video... 👀 https://pin.it/3jeSKuJ

[laughing-thrush]

A good girl keeping her eye on the reptile enclosures

[mo-gxn]

Attention nark nation…

i did it.

i’ve done it.

(the name is a play on narcotics) (i thought it was funny) … (it’s not really)

[foibles-fables]

In that fic you mentioned as the pose reference, "won't you wander back to me", I like how in the author's notes you went "So, I never write fluff" how the times change

they broke me. this ship broke me. i used to revel in pain and now i am BROKEN by all things soft and intimate. i am a shell of the person i once was. i look in the mirror and do not recognize what i see

[moonfurthetemmie]

Thrush & Cassowary

Thrush and Cassowary actually come from the same universe. This universe, for reasons unclear to everyone involved, has no idea who Rayonnant is and gets 0 news from any other universe.

Cass and Thrush were both drafted to join the military, which is where they met, and they became friends pretty quickly.

Fast forward several years and Cass and Thrush have been deployed. Haven’t figured out where or why yet, but they’re in a battle and it’s dangerous and shit.

Cass and Thrush are now in melee range, which is a small issue, but they’re well-armored and well equipped for it. Cass is surprising a lot of their opponents because they really think he’s punching them bare-fisted but no. No, he’s got brass knuckles. And he’s gonna break your jaw

anyway. They think they win the battle, their opponents retreat, and they all cheer. Thrush and Cass make their way across the battlefield to the rest of their squadron.

but one weasel-y little someone from the other side snuck into their ranks and planted a few bombs.

And the biggest is about to go off.

Rayonnant, no idea any of this was happening, appeared between Cass and Thrush, and the bomb. A split second after, the bomb goes off, and then more, and Rayonnant instinctively shields himself—and by extension, Thrush and Cass, who are right behind him—from the shrapnel and debris with his tentacles.

Once he’s sure the bombs have stopped Rayonnant pulls back his tentacles, which are now full of shrapnel and shit that would’ve killed the three of them. Also there’s a big crater where everyone had been.

Only then does Rayonnant realize there’s people behind him and he says something like “Well, that’s certainly not the sort of welcome I would’ve expected.”

They ask him who he is and he goes “…Rayonnant.” And they don’t…recognize his name? At all??”

Thrush and Cass are grateful that he saved them, but also need to see if there are any survivors.

Rayonnant, still buffering from the fact that they genuinely have no idea who he is and are grateful for his timely arrival, goes “There are none. There’s not a soul over there, and after that, I’m not sure there will even be remains to collect.”

They go look anyway. He’s curious now, too, so he follows. Asks them some questions.

Mainly “This is clearly a battlefield and those are obviously military uniforms, but what the hell were you doing so far from your…allies?”

He’s only more curious to hear that they got behind enemy lines and were cracking skulls. Very literally, sometimes.

They’re obviously pretty injured, but they’re alive, and that…that intrigues him.

They also find out that someone managed to sneak into their base of operations, quite a ways away, and planted more bombs which have also gone off.

They are now stranded in the middle of nowhere, with no way to get home or to call for help.

Cass isn’t stupid, nor is he so naïve as to think that he can trust someone just because they did one nice thing.

But he and Thrush are now dealing with pain from their injuries, grief from losing their comrades, and is most certainly light-headed from loss of blood.

Cass especially, seeing as he needs to get in even closer than Thrush does to do some damage.

So Rayonnant tries to comfort them.

It works on both of them, and they say they owe him for saving their lives.

He asks them then if they’d like to come with him. He’s building a team, you see; the best of the best, to uh…help improve the world.

They agree, though they. Need to heal some. And see if they can find any of their comrades’ dog tags. Not necessarily in that order.

But Rayonnant’s lie only works on Thrush before he goes out for Rayonnant the first time.

Rayonnant knew they’d likely realize that he lied to them pretty quick, so he decided to ‘test their skills’ one at a time. Cass went first.

Cass realized something was wrong. But Rayonnant had been so…nice. Saving them, helping them recover, giving them a place to stay with their entire unit gone and no way home, helping them get everything they need to be comfortable with him. Surely Rayonnant would ask him to harm innocent people…?

Rayonnant senses his conflict and tells him that they’re all actively propagating harmful ideas, hurting others, and whatever else he can think of to assure Cass that he is doing the right thing.

Cass is in no shape to deal with the possibility of Rayonnant lying to him for his own gain.

So he doesn’t. He chooses to believe that Rayonnant is telling the truth.

By the present that has been reinforced so heavily that it’d be pretty difficult to convince him that Rayonnant’s an evil bastard.

Now, when Rayonnant took Thrush out...

As much as he hated the idea of Rayonnant manipulating them, Thrush refused to believe Rayonnant’s lies. Flat-out.

And Rayonnant shakes his head. “Well, it was worth a shot.” And proceeds to lift him into the air, arms pinned to the side, and sweetly inform him that Cassowary believes Rayonnant. But even so, Thrush is clearly stronger than Cass, and if Cass tried to run now…

Also if Thrush tries to convince Cass that Rayonnant’s a lying bastard, he’ll be sure to send Thrush to Astrapia <33

aaand that’s where we are now.

Rayonnant trusts Thrush more, because he knows Thrush wouldn’t try anything. He's afraid Cass might try to sneak behind his back if he realizes Rayonnant lied to and is lying to him.

Cassowary

He's generally just kinda vibing. He thinks he's working for a Good Cause, and he's got a safe place to stay and he knows at least one of his friends is alive and well, so...what's there to be upset about?

I mean. Other than the rest of his unit getting wiped out. that comes back to him a few times. As does a bunch of other shit he saw while he was with that military. but like other than that life's great ahahahaha (he needs someone to talk to for that ptsd)

He's very proud of what he's doing. As he and Thrush were the first ones to join, everyone who came after was pretty scared of him. but he's...he's nice. He tries to help them all get settled in except for Eostrix and Baroque, but only because Eostrix was put in the dungeon and Rayonnant personally saw to Baroque, he helps them as they're still learning they're way around the manor... Is he trying to gain their trust to fuck with them? Is he just trying to make them want to escape less?

When they hear him talking about rayonnant trying to make the world better, they go "Oh. Oh, he's not trying to manipulate us, he's just genuinely brainwashed."

He notices them all relaxing around him suddenly? No idea why.

He's also absolutely, 100% noticed that something's up with Thrush. And that something has been up. Thrush insists it's just grief, and for a while Cass believed him. But he's getting more worried as time goes on, and the fact that Thrush keeps insisting he's fine...

Cass doesn't know why Thrush feels like he can't tell him what's wrong. It...hurts. That Thrush doesn't trust him enough to talk about whatever's bothering him. it's kind of straining their relationship. and by 'kind of' i mean "rayonnant would be taking advantage of this to manipulate cass more, but they're doing a great job by themselves, and honestly it's kind of entertaining"

Thrush

He looks like he's vibing, just like Cass. He is not vibing. The only time he's vibing is when he helps Loon out. I know of several people who find cleaning somewhat therapeutic (and i'm given to believe that this is common? but don't take my word on that), and Thrush does too. Loon enjoys the company, anyway.

his ptsd is no better than Cass'. he's just better at hiding. like. physically going to hide somewhere when he's having an episode. which may not be the best option but that's the one he's opted for and the only one who can find him 95% of the time is Rayonnant. The other 5% is Cass. And they can only do it because Rayonnant can sense him, and Cass knows him well enough to take a few guesses as to where he might be.

It pains him to have to keep lying to Cass. But even if Rayonnant only threatened to hurt Thrush for trying to convince Cass that Rayonnant's a liar and is making people suffer just for the hell of it, Thrush absolutely doesn't trust that he won't hurt Cass, too. Especially if Thrush does convince him.

He's trying to find anything to keep Cass from falling even further into Rayonnant's deception, and...and to keep his friend. but there's not a lot. Especially as Cass' concern and hurt grow. It hangs over their heads whenever Thrush tries to do stuff with him.

see the really unfortunate thing too is that Rayonnant left out a very important detail, when he made his threat.

He's not just going to beat the shit out of Thrush for trying (and succeeding) to get Cass to see the truth.. He's going to use it as an example to Cass of what will happen if Cass tries to run.

anyway. thrush is miserable. maybe if he can tell cass that he's literally not allowed to tell anyone about what's bothering him, they can patch it up at least little. But by this point, I don't know if Cass would believe him.

I don't think Thrush does, either.

[laughing-thrush]

God help Ron Bilingsley is local to me. CENTRAL INDIANA FOLKS: GO TO THE “MIDWEST REPTILE SHOW” (at the Indianapolis Fairgrounds) NOT THE “INDIANA REPTILE EXPO” (at the Hamilton County Fairgrounds). The Hoosier Herptological society organizes the first (Midwest Reptile Show) and have monthly educational presentations for members, lead yearly group hikes, contribute to conservation in the state. etc. The vast majority of the vendors there are passionate hobbiest breeders happy to give advice, tell you about their own setups. More than once I’ve seen vendors with their more relaxed “breeder” animals on hand to show what the parents look like and demonstrate adult size. State-native animals aren’t allowed to ensure no one’s “flipping” wild caughts (which is illegal), and venomous snakes aren’t and weren’t allowed even when they were briefly legal to own without a license.

Ron Bilingsley runs the latter (Indiana Reptile Expo). He’s the largest importer of wild caught reptiles in the region, and one of the biggest in the country. This one man is nigh single-handedly responsible for the overabundance of ball pythons in the region bc he imports big wild-caught batches in hopes of getting a new morph, and does shit like giving away the normals as door prizes. Shit happened like venomous snakes being sold to minors when it was briefly legal to own them without a license. The first and last time I was there, I overheard him bemoaning to a collector how long it took him to FINALLY get a batch of wild caught animals from Madagascar. FUCKING MADAGASCAR. MADAGASCAR IMPORTS SHOULD NOT BE GOING TO RETAIL EVER. PERIOD. WHAT THE FUCK. ANYWAY. Indianapolis show, not the Hamilton County Show. Please keep responsibly etc etc.

Bad Breeder Alert: Ron Billingsley

A follower contacted me today with a very disturbing experience at the Indiana show this weekend. They purchased a few leopard geckos. One of them is this little geck here:

Now, this owner is inexperienced and wasn’t familiar with leopard gecko diseases, so be kind to them. It’s simply disgusting that they were sold a leopard gecko in this condition.

He has a history of selling wild-caught ball pythons (which is needless enough; we have enough BP’s in captivity already) without treating them for internal and external parasites. This thread is particularly distressing because it involves the US Department of Agriculture quarantining the new owner’s house due to a possibility of heart water disease.

Another buyer reported that their snake died within 13 hours of arriving.

Still others have had problems with Billingsley and have been unable to contact him after. 

He vends in shows in Indiana and Michigan. 

Avoid this bad breeder and flipper.

He also has a history of running contests and offering free reptiles as prizes, including complex species like monitors or chameleons.

[charliemwrites]

Part 6 of Nikto's Commandments!

A little angst because... yeah. Comfort next, though! Whenever I get around to it...

Content: Injury, Violence, Shock

Being shot feels exactly how you expected it would.

You’ve cared for enough bullet wounds, listened to enough agonized soldiers, to imagine it in vivid detail. Asked Nikto once. He didn’t have the words to explain it, just shook his head and ushered you off to the next thing. Mumbled something about not wondering after what wouldn’t come to pass.

Getting dragged bleeding and delirious with pain now, you have the hysterical thought I told you so.

Speaking of Nikto, you don’t know where he is now. You separated on O’Conor’s orders – Nikto needed for stealth, and you needed as support for another squad member. He hadn’t been happy about it, eyes searing into yours. But you had nodded for him to follow orders and ducked away to get the mission over with.

If you live through this, he’s never going to listen to you again.

You’ve got two men dragging your half-dead weight down the hall, another leading the way in front. A smear of crimson follows after your legs like a demented snail. You kick and try to thrash, but it just sends white-hot pain throughout your abdomen and leaves your vision spotty. One of the enemies says something – hard to hear over the beating of your heart, the rush of blood, the thrush of your blood-soaked clothes along the floor. But you hear something about torture and feel your already-ruined stomach sink.

KorTac doesn’t save compromised assets.

You can hear Nikto’s voice in your ear but can’t reach your headset to answer; the men have both your arms. Fuck, fuck.

His face flashes through your panicky mind. Handsome and ruined and still so sensitive to cold air and humid weather. Eyes so startlingly bright but fathomless. It’s like trying to find the bottom of the sky. You love waking up to them.

He’s getting more frantic now, voice hard but brittle. Others chiming in as well, but you hear his above all.

You murmur his name, the one you’ve only hushed in the quiet of a dark car. Wish you could tell him one more time.

There’s a shift in your captors’ gaits. A stairwell. Your body jolts down the first stair and sends spikes of fire straight from your throat. It’s an awful scream, loud and cracking and only serves to make it hurt worse.

But there’s a sudden, deafening silence in the echo of your voice.

Then Nikto.

“Copy.”

The men stop, realizing that your screams are going to be an issue. The one in the lead wrenches your head back, trying to shove some sort of fabric in your mouth. But the knowledge the Nikto is coming, that you just have to hold out, sends the pain to the back of your mind. You twist and struggle, teeth sinking into flesh.

Your boot catches on the corner of the step and you push.

The soldiers lose their grip, and you tumble halfway down the stairs, head bouncing off cement. But your arms are free, and you manage to grab the pistol at your thigh. Fire wildly and hit one in the leg with a ricochet off the wall. All the while trying to scramble out of sight before they can reach for their own weapons.

You hit the landing with a bitten-off yelp. But you’re low on bullets and you’re not confident in your abilities with a knife right now.

And then a blur of black armor slams into one of the men, a knee in his throat, crushing his windpipe. Someone follows just behind – you recognize Konig by height alone. He throws another down the stairs, and the soldier doesn’t hesitate to take the head start he’s been given. Doesn’t even pause to try to use you for leverage, just begins limping away. The third man is quick to turn tail while his comrades are being assaulted.

“Run, bastard,” Nikto laughs, ragged and manic.

He turns as if to follow and your heart turns to ice. “Stop!”

It’s like you’ve physically yanked on his leash. He goes rigid, head whipping around to take in the state of you. You can almost measure the fury that floods him when he realizes how badly you are.

“Nikto, I need you here,” you say, as calm and even as you can. Same voice you use as in medical emergencies – well, technically, you suppose this is a medical emergency. “Leave it to Konig.”

He jerks as if you’ve offended him somehow. Like you’re unjustly punishing him. You struggle up onto one arm, gun forgotten in favor of applying what little pressure you can to your abdomen. Your throat feels tight with repressed fear, struggling to breathe through radiating pain.

“I know you’re angry, I do,” you strain, “but I need your help right now. Revenge can come later. I’m sure Konig can save one for you.”

Understanding seems to dawn through bloodlust. Nikto darts to your side between one ragged breath and the next. He kneels beside you, pupils shrunken to pinpricks.

“Go on, Konig,” you call, “I’ll be alright.”

He nods and disappears. You turn to Nikto and softly call his name; instantly have his attention.

“I need you to apply pressure,” you explain, “I can’t do it myself.”

He does, but you know he’s trying to spare you. Doesn’t want to hurt you. You wrap your fingers around his wrist and tug.

“Harder, love,” you whisper, “or it’ll kill me.”

His mask shifts as he grits his teeth and puts his weight into it. You choke on a cry, swallow it down and try to blink through spots.

“G-good. Keep it like that.”

“You’re shaking.”

You hiss out through your teeth. “I might be going into shock.”

“That can kill you too.”

“I said ‘might’.”

“How do I fix?” he demands.

You swallow and lower your arms to your side. “Loosen my vest as much as you can. Radio someone else for help, they can get a blanket. Don’t let up on my side.”

You focus on regulating your breathing while he obeys, murmuring to himself in Russian. You occupy yourself with trying to translate – though it mostly sounds like curses. Still, it’s something for your brain to latch onto other than the severity of your injury. You wish you could risk speaking, but the adrenaline crash is already hitting, and you need to focus on staying conscious for as long as possible.

Soon O’Conor is there, the foil blanket flashing in the shitty stairwell lights. He also comes with a stim that stabilizes you enough for Nikto to scoop you up and get you to exfil. You lose the plot after that, swimming in and out of awareness through triage.

But through it all, you keep your hand around Nikto’s.

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Cult of Vagabonds MasterList

NAVIGATION

PAIRING: Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick x F!Reader

OVERALL WARNINGS: Familial trauma, PTSD, anxiety, trauma responses, angst, character deaths, gore & violence, kidnappings, interrogations, self-deprecating thoughts and actions, addictions, eventual smut, etc. (More specific warnings will be listed in every chapter)(18+).

DISCLAIMER: While not an OC, the Reader will be given a backstory that will be seen throughout the fic and intertwine with the plot. Taglist is full. All images found on Pinterest.

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER I: Landless Gull

CHAPTER II: Snail & Thrush 

CHAPTER III: Banshee Bluethroat

CHAPTER IV: Finch's Frenzy

CHAPTER V: Copper Talons

CHAPTER VI: Storm-Flying Petrels 

CHAPTER VII: Devil Birds

CHAPTER VIII: Polluted Marrow & Hollow Bones

CHAPTER IX: Talk To The Doves

CHAPTER X: A Crow's Carrion Comfort

CHAPTER XI: The Call of A Foreign Swan

CHAPTER XII: Owl-Eyes

CHAPTER XIII: Flight of the Warbler

CHAPTER XIV: Gray Grouse

CHAPTER XV: Sins of a Laughing Skylark

CHAPTER XVI: Vultures

CHAPTER XVII: Red-Wing Blackbirds And Dark Dahlias

CHAPTER XVIII:

CHAPTER XIX:

CHAPTER XX:

CHAPTER XXI:

CHAPTER XXII:

CHAPTER XXIII:

CHAPTER XXIV:

CHAPTER XXV:

[slippinninque]

✨📱Kiss me Through the Phone 📱✨

Fontaine x black!fem!reader

Warnings/content: fluff, cursing, mentions of smoking/weed, long fic. Black!Fem!Reader, ramblings

He treated his phone like the tool it was. There were few apps for entertainment, and the necessary apps to stay updated on what was going on in his streets.

Fontaine was never one for taking pictures until he met you. Now he has a nice collections of you on his phone.

Particularly, there is a folder of photos in his phone dedicated to your stuffed face. You turned full hamster when you were hungry and he thought it was adorable. This is top secret.

You have a folder of photos in your phone dedicated to catching him sleeping during movies. From cozy shots of him latched on to you like a giant octopus to the bent neck, open mouthed snooze. What started off as a cache of evidence became an absolute delight. This was also top secret.

Fontaine didn't save many numbers. Due to his business, the less information he made available the better. You swore his memory was his super power.

The first picture you ever sent Fontaine he'd swore he would get framed. It was purposely unflattering with an expression he didn't think your pretty face could make. It was sent to him by mistake but made him nearly choke on his '40 and he knew then he needed more of you.

------

A little bit of sun was all the Glen needed for it's parks to come alive with get-togethers and hang-outs. That was the whole reason you and your girls were out in the first place, looking to get some warmth before the heat vanished again,

You were sitting close to each other sharing whispers and smoke. It was a lovely day though the breeze was relentless. Fontaine was already unzipping his jacket when you shivered for the umpteenth time.

The sight of him was poetic. Leaning up a bit just to whip his jacket over your shoulder, the sun taking it's place immediately with delicacy. Fontaine's face was soft at least enough for his golds to glimmer between full lips.

He was gilded in the setting sun as he stepped a bit closer to zip you properly into the jacket. You felt like you were staring, but you couldn't look away.

"There we go," he grinned at you as he passed the blunt to you and resetting your brain, "Wear it better than me."

"Better stop before this hoodie come up missing." You took a puff and laughed a bit,

"Y'know how clothes just be adventuring off on their own..."

"Is that so? You wanna takin' down my number so you can let a nigga know if his thermals come knocking at your door?"

"Your-your weed is good, so I suppose I'll be neighborly."

He laughed and you couldn't even feel the full thrush of embarrassment at your fumbling. You could only shake your head at yourself as you handed over your phone.

Fontaine typed in his number and you traded the blunt for your phone. He didn't save it at first and you added him to your contacts with the quickness.

Just as you always did, first thing that came to mind--

Sunglow.

Quickly after that you keep you eyes to your keyboard as you sent Fontaine a wave with a smiley face.

-------

You jerked awake, hearing hard knocking and loud voices seeping in through your cracked window.

Heart pounding as you stared up at the ceiling, you scrambled for your phone to see it was well past midnight. The TV was still going from when you fell asleep on the couch, but it wasn't enough to drown out the slurring call of your name.

Clutching your throw blanket, you swallowed as much of your panic as possible. It was your neighbor, drunk again and "confused" despite it being the third time this month.

As much as you tried to be understanding, it made you more than uncomfortable. The man was all grins and half-apologetic in the daytime, insisting that their front doors were nearly twins despite there being 3 houses between them. His roommates thought it was funny and made a few comments about how you even resembled his ex.

He even asked what the issue was with letting him linger until he sobers up enough to go home.

The next knocks were thunderous and got you out of bed. You weren't keen on opening the door or even speaking to him, it would only make it worse...

Tearing up as you heard the stumbling and nonsense filter through your door, you chewed your lip as you slowly typed out a text.

[Are you up?]

You winced. It sounded so dirty to you at the moment but you were scared and tired--

The sound of your ringer startled you enough to answer.

"Um, hi, sorry." You crept to your room in the dark, afraid to turn on the lights, "Did-Did I wake you?"

Fontaine made a soft noise, "Ain't doin' shit but runnin' to the store. What's got you up so late?"

You struggled for words for a moment but hissed when the banging came again. This time it sounded like he was hitting the front room's window.

"What the fuck is that?"

Fontaine's tone broke you, a sob stuttering out as you told him everything. You curled up and tried to make sense but a headache was beginning to grow.

"I'm comin', sweet heart, I'm on my way." Fontaine's voice was soothing in his promise, "Stay on the phone with me."

"Okay, 'm so sorry."

"Don't be. Just keep listening to me, you hear me? 'M on my way."

Fontaine's voice flowing through that little speaker was your life raft. You did as you were told, listening to the sound of him getting into his car and driving.

Your neighbor went quiet and it knowing where he was was worse. Imagining him stalking around the perimeter of your home, looking for things to "accidentally" break, ways into your home, would he do something to your car? In the dark feeling small, you quietly hoped that there were no red lights to keep Fontaine long.

The call ended and before your panic to dwell to hysteria, there was commotion from outside your house.

There was hollering and another terrible clattering noise. Running back into the living room, you peeked through the blinds with shaky hands.

Fontaine had your neighbor on the ground, bent up and yelping next to your overturned trash can. You could only see the back of him as he wrangled your neighbor.

You felt rooted to the spot, watching from somewhere else as you watched the terror that's been stealing your peace get the ragdoll treatment. Fontaine tossed him here and there, his voice furious and low.

Fontaine hauled your neighbor up enough to walk him down the street and out of sight. Still shaking, you took a seat on the couch and tried to pull yourself together.

You aren't sure how long you say there with anxiety eating away at your stomach. When your phone rang again, you hurried to answer.

"Hello, hi..."

"C'mon to the door, it's okay now."

You peeled yourself off the couch and went to the door, flinging it open but still unable to look him in the face. He was wearing only sweats and a grey long sleeved shirt. Quietly letting him in, you couldn't stop the tears when they returned.

Fontaine told you that he made absolutely sure that your neighbor knew what his porch looked like. You could only imagine what he meant by that.

"Don't cry anymore, you're okay now," Fontaine came near you, hand hovering your shoulders in a mimic of touch. You leaned forward until you could feel the softness of his shirt.

"You did good, I'm glad you let me know. Promise he ain't gonna bother you anymore, trust thayt."

Wrapping your arms around his waist, you asked if he would mind staying until morning. Fontaine cupped your face and ran his thumbs along your stinging cheeks.

"Of course."

He went toward the couch but you pulled lightly, leading him to your bedroom. Fontaine was quiet and you still sniffled as you crawled into bed. You only had to look at him and Fontaine hurried to follow.

Cuddled close and worn out, your nerves cooled enough for exhaustion to wander in.

"You can always call me. Just know that, yeah? If you're scared....call me. Don't matter what it is, I'm gonna be there."

Grateful, you could only nod again. Fontaine's hand splayed along your back and to the sound of his steady heartbeat, sleep finally came back for you.

------

"It's probably somewhere in the car," you said to Fontaine as you searched your bag, "I think I left my lip chap anyway."

Fontaine paused in searching himself and pockets to give you a grateful nod.

" 'Preciate you."

You tossed a wink over your shoulder, turning to jog the short distance between the porch and Fontaine's car. He stayed behind, sorting the grocery bags more comfortably to key into the house.

The car was still unlocked and you whipped out your cell, dialing Fontaine's phone to hone in on its hiding spot.

I'll be your groupie, baby (oh whoa)

'Cause you are my superstar (ha, superstar, yeah)

No way. You nearly knocked your head trying to look beneath the driver's seat. Legs nearly hanging out the car as you laid as flat as you could. You were cheek to seat as you scrabbled beneath the seat, the song playing on.

I'm your number one fan, give me your autograph

Sign it right here on my heart (I'll be)

Pushing aside some loose change and grabbing Fontaine's phone, you went to decline your call when your eyes caught on the screen.

My Baby

The big softie, giving you butterflies and he isn't even near you. Wriggling and utterly smitten, you couldn't believe how much you liked this man.

Fontaine gave you such shit for having a crush, but then he goes and lets his homies hear your favorite song every time you call.

Grabbing carmex from the cupholder you could finally wriggle out of the car. Closing the door, you turned and saw Fontaine had been holding the door waiting for you the entire time.

----------

Fontaine texted and you sighed, wishing that you could see him in person. Sometimes the phone just wasn't enough.

Your phone vibrated again, the notification sound pinging through the earbud in your ear. Music definitely made the time spent pouring over technical details a bit more managable.

Fontaine's texts were little nuggets of gold you hoarded through the shift. An aimless sort of conversation that didn't make you feel pressured to answer so soon.

He sent you a picture of a stay cat you looked out for, hunched over what looked to be a half of sub sandwich. You sent him a picture of a goose sitting in one of the managerial parking spots at with all the attitude of a Cadillac.

Only you and a few other ladies jumped at the chance for a short shift the following day, but of course it mean sudden overtime. You glowered at the dwindling piles straight tab files and binders.

There were still records to edit and submit. Then a well deserved long-weekend after to look forward to.

Your phone vibrated in your lap, the only safe place for it since your desk turned into a disaster of binders, white-out, and sticky notes.

Sunglow: [come out side]

[I'm not at home remember?]

Sunglow: [never said you were]

You frowned at your phone. What the hell was he talking about?

You jumped when you heard the blare of a horn. It echoed in the empied parking lot and you were sure you aren't the only one who was leaving their desk to check.

Your cubicle had one of the best views of the parking lot and a few streets over, you put your face to the glass at the same time another horn sounded.

In all his glory, Fontaine leaned up against this car with his phone visibly in hand and the other tucked inside to rest on the steering wheel.

Surprised and fumbling back to your cubicle, you managed to dial Fontaine before he tried summoning you again.

"Romeo, Romeo, stop bein' so disruptive!" You hissed into your phone,"Stop honkin' that horn, you're going to wake up the guard!"

"I know you better bring yo' tail down that tower and give me what I came here fo', Juliet."

With only a sheepish grin to offer "mhmmm" and "okay, then, girl" looks you got, you hurried down the stairs while Fontaine grumbled about the integrity of your building's security through your ear.

Smoothing out your cardigan as you exited the building, you were wishing that you wore something a bit more flattering when Fontaine was already meeting you at the double doors.

You went when your hand was pulled and you were hugged by Fontaine as he rested up against the brick wall of your office. It was a little hiding spot that was mainly used by the night shift.

It was the perfect spot to hide away from supervisors and sudden rains.

"You got somethin' for making yo' man wait for so long?" Fontaine asked, keeping a hand at your waist while the other one steadied you by the chin. You chuckled before looking up at him and pursing your lips.

"Mhmm, don't mind if I do..." Fontaine purred and pressed his silky lips against yours.

Sweet and slow. Fontaine took hold of your hands, left them to massage your shoulders, used on hand to settle at the dip of your waist.

"I can't stay down here for too long," you breathed after parting, "Very tempting to hop into that passenger seat, though."

"Give the word, I'll peel out this bitch."

"Oh, I know you will," you laughed and kissed his cheek before pressing yours to his, " 'M happy you came to surprise me. I think I can make it to the end now."

"I aim to please."

The wind blew a bit tougher and you burrowed into him as best you could. He rested his chin on the top of your head, hands locking at the small of your back.

It felt like being set out in the sun to dry. A nice, long stretch after an afternoon nap. Just...good.

"How much longer do you have?" He asked voice quiet. You probably had another five or so minutes.

Shifting around so your phone could be brought up between you, "About this long."

Hitting play, you both listened to Ms. Hill remind you how nothing mattered more than where you wanted to be most.

-----

ending notes: this felt kinda long lol! thank you soo much for reading! I appreciate every pair of eyes that lands on my writing, it means so much to me! 🥹

taglist✨: @megamindsecretlair @thadelightfulone @mag1calenchantr3ss @cocoeffects @wide-nose-and-wonderful @8ttached @thadelightfulone @hobiesmain @thickeeparker @longpause-awkwardsmile @ms-angiealsina @educatorsareslutstoo @mysterychick93@mcondance@sageispunk@kindofaintrovert@hunnishive@notapradagurl7@blowmymbackout@educatorsareslutstoo@blackerthings@miyuhpapayuh@westside-rot

[yumicreatesworld]

Betrayal: Gift Rejected - Jake Sim

Summary: You confront Jake after discovering he sought advice from Yuna, your manipulative ex-best friend, for your painful condition. Her advice worsened your symptoms, and Jake’s betrayal stings deeply. Despite his attempt to reconcile with an expensive gift, you tell him you need time to consider if you can ever trust him again.

Pairing: boyfriend!Jake x girlfriend!reader (featuring ex bestfriend!Yuna)

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 600

Genre: Contemporary, Romance

Warnings: emotional betrayal, medical issues, emotional distress, manipulation.

I got the idea for this Drabble from this prompt. Go check out their page!

“Thank you, I really hate it,” you say, pushing the velvet box back toward Jake. Your voice is calm, almost too calm, the kind that comes before a storm. You watch him flinch, his attempt at a placating smile faltering.

“Y/N, please, I thought—”

"No," you interrupt, shaking your head. "You didn't think. You went to her. Of all people, Jake, you went to Yuna."

His face crumples, and for a moment, you almost feel sorry for him. Almost. But the pain from your condition, the searing embarrassment, is too fresh. You can't forget the moment you discovered what he had done, the betrayal cutting deeper than the physical agony.

You had been dealing with thrush for weeks, the constant discomfort making even the simplest tasks unbearable. You trusted Jake to understand, to support you. Instead, he had sought help from the one person you despised more than anyone.

Yuna. The name alone makes your skin crawl. Once your best friend, she had charmed her way into your life, only to rip it apart. Her flirtation with your former boyfriend had been the final straw, leading to a painful breakup and the end of your friendship. Now, she was a well-loved doctor, her reputation untarnished by the manipulative games she played.

When you found out Jake had gone to her for advice, it felt like the ground had been pulled from beneath you. Worse, the 'advice' she gave him had aggravated your condition, leaving you in more pain than before. Yuna’s delighted laughter when you confronted her still echoes in your mind, a haunting reminder of her betrayal.

"I didn't know who else to ask," Jake says, his voice breaking. "I just wanted to help."

"You wanted to help?" you echo, incredulous. "By going to her? You know what she did to me, what she’s capable of. And you thought she would help?"

He opens his mouth to respond, but you hold up a hand, stopping him. "You didn't even tell me, Jake. You didn't think to ask me how I felt about it. You just went behind my back."

He looks down, the guilt plain on his face. "I thought... I thought if I could fix it, you wouldn't have to suffer anymore."

You laugh, a harsh, bitter sound. "Suffer? You think I'm just suffering because of the pain? Jake, I'm suffering because the one person I should be able to trust went to the one person who delights in my misery."

Silence falls between you, heavy and suffocating. You stare at the velvet box, the expensive gift inside a testament to Jake’s misguided attempt to make things right. It’s too little, too late.

"I love you, Y/N," he whispers. "I just wanted to make you happy again."

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them back. "I don't want your gifts, Jake. I wanted your honesty. I wanted your support. And you gave me betrayal instead."

He reaches out, his hand trembling, but you step back, shaking your head. "I need time," you say quietly. "Time to figure out if I can ever trust you again."

Jake's face falls, but he nods, understanding dawning in his eyes. "I'll wait," he says. "However long it takes, I'll wait."

You turn away, unable to bear the sight of his broken expression any longer. As you walk away, the pain of your condition flares, but it's nothing compared to the ache in your heart. You wonder if some wounds can ever truly heal, or if the scars left behind will always remind you of the hurt.

Only time will tell.

Part 2(a)

Part 2(b)

Hope y’all enjoyed!

[wof-inbox]

To siamang, what was some of your best pranks, care to share?

”Hm.. well let’s see. Once I kept tugging on Thrush’s horns while invisible, and he almost got into a fight with Changbai as he thought he did it! But I laughed too hard and they found out. And, I also kept mumbling into Mightyclaws’s ears and he thought he got mind reading powers! Ah, good times.. good times..” -Siamang

[Plain text: Hm.. well let’s see. Once I kept tugging on Thrush’s horns while invisible, and he almost got into a fight with Changbai as he thought he did it! But I laughed too hard and they found out. And, I also kept mumbling into Mightyclaws’s ears and he thought he got mind reading powers! Ah, good times.. good times..]

[prettyboynapoleonsolo]

Seven Sentence Saturday

Thanks for the tag, @justabigoldnerd! Shockingly, this time I'm not hurting Napoleon.

Gaby forgets, sometimes, what Illya and Solo are. It's easy to forget, when Illya holds her close or Solo presses a gentle kiss to her hair, that they are both lethal men. Their captors look at Illya and Gaby with undisguised glee. Two UNCLE agents, dropped into THRUSH's lap by bad intel from a compromised asset. Gaby is sure Waverly has already taken care of the informant, just as she is sure that Solo is on his way. When Solo kicks open the door to the room where they're being held, Gaby's heart sinks. The Solo in the doorway is not her sweet Napoleon who cooks for her, and he isn't Illya's ridiculous, laughing Cowboy.

no-pressure tagging @pippinoftheshire @heytheredeann @too-young-to-fall-in-love @falling-into-peril

[laughing-thrush]

VERY proud of my little windowsill nepenthes! (Didn’t come labeled, but I think it’s a ventricosa. Maybe a high red clone?) I’ve only had it for a little more than a year and its pitchers have changed so much- all the little fringes are gone from the front of the pitchers, and the rims are increasingly flared. Also my small forest of cape sundew, of course.

[mosticonicbirdcallbracket]

MOST ICONIC BIRD CALL BRACKET: ROUND 3: WOOD THRUSH vs. KOOKABURRA

IN THE BLUE CORNER, prepare yourselves for a mesmerizing encounter with nature's symphony. let's give a harmonious ovation to the enchanting songstress, the WOOD THRUSH!

wth feathers adorned in earthy hues and a voice that rivals the sweetest symphonies, this avian virtuoso is a mesmerizing sight to behold. the wood thrush is capable of singing two notes at the same time, harmonizing with itself with every song. but don't underestimate the wood thrush's gentle demeanor, for beneath its delicate exterior lies a spirit of resilience and determination.

prepare to be serenaded as we witness the harmonious fusion of athleticism and beauty in the wood thrush. tonight, this avian maestro will take flight, captivating us all with its breathtaking grace and melodic prowess.

IN THE RED CORNER, get ready for a wild ride of laughter and excitement! coming in from the land down under, brace yourselves for the uproarious and electrifying presence of the KOOKABURRA!

with a beak that carries the promise of echoing laughter and feathers that shimmer with a bronze palette, this avian jester is a true master of entertainment. known for its infectious chuckles and mischievous charisma, the kookaburra embodies pure joy and exhilaration. this comical daredevil thrives in the spotlight, reminding everyone that laughter is indeed the best medicine. that famous laugh is recognizable from the foley work in almost any scene that takes place in the jungle, whether it's the kookaburra's native australia or not.

so, get ready to giggle and cheer as we witness the uproarious antics and high-flying stunts of the kookaburra. tonight, this feathered comedian will take center stage, bringing laughter and excitement to new heights. prepare for a whirlwind of hilarity and unparalleled entertainment, as the kookaburra spreads its wings and delivers a show that will leave you in stitches!

[one-of-many-journeys]

Day 19

Lonesome Rock

Up with the sun to ride on from Lonesome Rock to Lone Light. I reached it in a couple hours of hard riding.

Talanah was just arriving as I did, and a flock of Glinthawks decided to join us too. Rope and spear strikes. Simple. Except they kept on coming. I know machines, and this wasn’t normal behaviour for them. No sign of machine lures this time, but something was attracting them to Lone Light. A hoard of metal scrap? I followed their flight path upriver to investigate.

I found a pass through the mountains boarded up with blinders for archers; a whole mess of Snapmaw carcasses had been lured in for cheap kill after kill. It honestly made me angry to see. Rost always told me to respect the power of the machines, not to trap and butcher them to farm for shards. Practices like this give skilled hunters a bad name.

Higher up in the pass I met a group of Carja hunters struggling to pay off debts. They didn’t seem to care that their kills had forced all of Lone Light to evacuate when the Glinthawks came to nest, and who knows how many died. They seemed ready to kill me as well for my trespass, but they agreed to a compromise if I collected the last Snapmaw heart they needed to break even. Unlike them, I salvaged the heart in perfect condition from both the Snapmaws I killed. Their mess of an ambush, peppering the machines with arrows, tore through their underbellies and dashed half the hearts they might have claimed. 

Talanah met me at the hunter’s camp. She’d been tracking me, watching, and based on what she’d seen she decided to sponsor me as her thrush. If I’d known I might have gone in for a flashier kill. Either way, I hope she likes explosions. 

Exiting the camp, my Focus picked up on a Tallneck close by, but no machines guarded this wanderer, only Eclipse. They’d erected scaffolding and makeshift shelters, watchtowers all around the Tallneck’s path. I found their plans documented inside: they were trying to override it. Is that what they call their corruption? I suppose it’s the same mechanism, just commanded by a different machine: my Focus and their Corrupters.

I took out as many as I could from afar, sharpshot arrows breaking through their masks, then got cocky and was spotted. Weaved my way in and out of detection until I took out their heavy gunner. Took it up and picked off the rest wandering through the brush searching for me. Well, here I am. 

Then to the Tallneck. From its head the camp was just a collection of little fires and wooden slats. Bodies scattered all around. What were they doing trying to override a Tallneck? Just for a map of the terrain and machine sites? Nothing good, certainly.

I rode back to Lone Light and spent the night there. It was still empty. The village that had been bustling with life—the bar crowded with drunks dancing and laughing, a band playing late into the night—now silent. Hopefully Talanah can get word out that it’s safe to return. For how long, I don’t know.

Bedhouse was empty too. At least it was quiet.