#little green man from outer space

[lorelune]

(minors & ageless blogs dni. a piece for @ainescribe for helping me with my theme 💓 cw: predator/prey, hints of dubcon)

"i'll give you a head start."

jing yuan tells you this with a pleasant, easy smile and his hands behind his back. and no context. you cock your head at him from across the little table you share, and take a sip of your cold tea.

"come again, dear?" you knock your ankle against his under the table.

"i'm giving you a five minute head start." jing yuan leans closer and rests his chin his palm. his eyes take on a cat-like glint. "i've already started counting. i'd get going if i were you, sweetling."

you only want more of it.

your chest feels tight all of a sudden.

"jing yuan—"

"i won't be going easy on you." his smile verges on smug as he leans forward. "and i would advise to take full advantage of this time. i think you'll need it."

he leans away from you and tilts his head. it would be cute if you couldn't see the rapidly darkening mischief in his gaze. you jolt up from your little table, clattering your chair on the cobbled walkway. he eyes you up and down like a big cat sizing up its next meal as you step backwards, nearly stumbling.

something in your gut twists, like a hot iron.

you turn on a heel and walk as fast as you can without drawing too much attention to yourself. weaving around the late-night crowds and ducking around street vendors and their burning latterns, your heart pounds. faster and faster.

this had been your idea originally. you just hadn't expected jing yuan to entertain it (though on some level, he entertains all of your ideas.) this desire of yours seemed too risky, too innately... unlike him. at least to you.

this game had been a fantasy. one you'd confessed your interest in a few weeks prior, while luxuriating in a pleasantly steaming bath together. you shared a glass of wine, passed between sips after a slow, tender evening. you'd playfully started a conversation about things to try in the bedroom, and somehow, the Divine Foresight and honey wine managed to wring a few previously unspoken desires out of you.

this is the result, you suppose, as you stumble around a corner, toward jing yuan's estate.

you should've known that jing yuan would spring this fantasy on your unexpectedly. that was part of the allure. the hunt, the chase— you're just prey now, with no time to prepare or plan. the innate helplessness has already stirred something in you, even though jing yuan hasn't done anymore than send you hungry looks and promises.

you're sure five minutes have passed. you're positive that the man is trailing you, even if you can't hear or see him. you don't have the military prowess that he does, you're just a civilian. your footfalls are loud as you break into a run near his estate and its towering walls.

your hands shake as you hold your jade abacus to its lock. the slow 'clunk' of gears opening the gates feels like it goes on forever. your heart is pounding in your ears, like a drum that won't stop. you're out of breath, but force yourself to sprint the moment the door swings open.

you hide in one of his gardens.

jing yuan has many green spaces on his estate. it's situated on a large enough space to allow for a small stream running through the largest garden into the front yard. ponds gurgle nearby, filled with fat, sleepy fish. you wake them as you dash around the greenery and shrubs, uncaring of the dirt that is staining your shoes. the bottom of your outer most garment must be getting torn as it snags on the brush below.

the gate of the estate opens and closes once more, somewhere not far behind you. your heart lurches, your stomach feels cold and hollow and you run.

jing yuan knows his estate better than you, clearly. you don't know where is safe, but in his largest garden, there are large gingko trees and stones that seem okay to hide behind. maybe. you are too anxious, too out of your fucking mind, to use sound logic at this point. you scramble behind a smooth quartz boulder and lay a hand on your chest. panting. tears sting your the corners eyes as you desperately try to catch your breath.

you listen the best you can to see if you can hear him follow you. it's hard to pick up every little sound, breeze shakes the tree branchers into a late-evening song. cicadas chirp to disguise any potential footfalls. it would probably be best to hide somewhere on the edge of the garden. you're in the center of it, not far from the stream. you don't dare peak out from your hiding spot, but you should move— you feel so exposed—

a floorboard creaks nearby. you freeze.

the wind almost stills with the sound. you can't breathe as you strain to hear more. it came from the west, where you know there's an entrance to this garden. you think. probably. your heart pounds so loudly, you can barely hear anything over the roar.

you do another sound, though. the sound of a boot fall, onto stone. there's a path laid with them not far from where you are.

something white-hot, old and feral burst in your chest.

you need to fucking run.

with a burst of energy that makes you feel light-headed, you push off the ground and throw yourself over the rock you were hiding behind, away from the sounds that are surely jing yuan stalking you.

your feet hit the ground and you run. run, run, run—

you swear you can feel more footfalls than just your own, but you can't look behind you. all of your focus is on weaving through the gardens trees and shrubbery, to gain and sort of ground.

you stumble, eventually. it's inevitable that you lose. the game is set up that way.

you trip over your own feet as you near the little stream that cuts the garden and gurgles. your momentum ruins you; you can't right yourself fast enough.

a hand catches the back of your collar and pulls. your breath catches, caught in your throat by the pressure. an arm, his arm, bundle you up at the waist and slams your body into his. your back to his front. the force of it knocks the air out of you.

you still scramble, you can't help it. squirming and kicking, you fight against the unyielding grip he has on you. he's hot against your back, scalding even. the metal bits of his armor and belts dig into your as your struggle fruitlessly.

"what's this?" jing yuan says into your ear, soft and curling. "i thought you would do a little better than this."

you whine. your stomach feels cold.

jing yuan laughs then, rich and low like he always does. but there's a darker edge to it now. you can feel it spread down the back of your neck, your spine, drenching you down to your toes. he squeezes you, and you feel yourself get wet.

(you're fucked.)

"you'll have to try harder next time." jing yuan says. "maybe i did go a little easy on you."

"s-sure you did—"

jing yuan nips your ear. "what was that? i didn't realize prey animals were capable of speech."

you crane your neck, ready to snap at him, but you don't get the chance too.

in a single motion, jing yuan has you thrown over his shoulder. blood rushes too quickly to all of the places it shouldn't be. you feel dizzy with it and whine and sputter with it.

jing yuan doesn't yield, only laughs again, and gives your bottom a few firm (very firm) pats. you gulp.

(lucidly remembering the other details you revealed to jing yuan in the bath that night. all of the filthiest bits of your fantasies. jing yuan hardly had to ply you for them.)

and jing yuan is a strategist. you should have known he would use this new information advantageously against you in such a way.

as you enter his manor, heart still pounding, palms clammy, and feeling like a rabbit in the jaws of a lion, you feel foolish and turned on all once. jing yuan so easily catches you off guard when he chooses. he so easily undoes you, puts you in a place of his choosing and let's you fester there just enough that he can remedy it— either with sweetness or, as he now so adeptly showing you, with something an edge darker.

you gulp, light-headed.

[honestly-mad-person]

DADDY'S TIME

A/n: Get ready for your heart to melt from the level of cuteness and sweetness with L&D boys as daddies!

Synopsys: You decide to take a nap because you are tired of taking care of your three-year-old child and ask your husband to take over while you rest.

Characters: Xavier / Zayne (Sorry Rafayel’s stands)

Genre: Fluff

XAVIER VERSION

You woke up in the afternoon and rubbed your eyes sleepily and left the bedroom. You slept a little, tired from the sleepless night, because your daughter often woke up in the middle of the night, waking you and Xavier with her crying. You loved this little bundle of cuteness who looked just like his daddy, but tiredness got the better of you.

You listened to the noises in the apartment and the only thing you could hear was a soft melody coming from the children's room. You followed the sound and opened the door and froze. The whole room was covered in holographic stars and nebulae (Thank you, Xavier, for this gift for our daughter).

The stars were on the walls, on the ceiling, they were floating in the air, passing each other. They shone softly, being the only light in the dark room. Looking at the window, you saw that the curtains were tightly closed and the sunlight barely made it through. This pleasant atmosphere was enhanced by a music box that played a soothing melody. Feeling like you were in outer space, you couldn't help but wonder how sweet Xavier was.

Finding the two most precious people in your life in your eyes, you smiled warmly. Xavier was lying in the beanbag chair, holding your baby to his chest. Both were sleeping, drooling. Your daughter was curled up on her daddy, holding her thumb in her mouth while his caring arms gently held her back. The more you looked at this picture, the more your heart melted. You felt proud that the two of you were able to make another incredible beauty.

You walked quietly on the floor, avoiding the scattered toys and coming up to them and sitting down on the floor next to them. Your gaze could not be torn from these sleeping faces. They looked so peaceful that you couldn't help but rest your head on Xavier's shoulder. He mumbled a little as he stirred, but continued to sleep as your hand lay on top of his on your daughter's back. You had loved Xavier madly, but now he had made you fall in love with him again without realizing it.

ZAYNE VERSION

Opening your eyes, you tried to banish the remnants of the day's sleep by stretching in bed. You could hear incomprehensible mumbling coming from behind the door. Getting up, you left the room and rubbed your sleepy eyes. Looking around the living room, you didn't find your husband and son, but you smelled a pleasant odor coming from the kitchen and went there.

— What are you doing here? – you asked as you entered the room.

— Mommy! – the black-haired boy exclaimed happily and jumped out of his father's arms and ran to you.

— My cupcake! – You melted, catching him in your arms and covering his sweet face with kisses. – What were you doing here with your daddy?

You glanced over at Zayne, who was standing by the kitchen counter, and you felt your heart skip a beat. As always, Zayne looked gorgeous, even in his home clothes. He was leaning on the kitchen counter with his hands, never taking his eyes off you. You caught little flashes of something dirty in his eyes and, barely holding back a smile, you looked at your son. Your and Zayne's son.

— Daddy and me made breakfast for mommy – his arms wrapped around your neck and he kissed you on the cheek.

— It was supposed to be a surprise, snowflake, – Zayne shook his head as he walked over to you and his hand gently rested on the child's head, ruffling his hair.

— Sorry, daddy, – answered, he looking into your eyes and murmured softly, taking your face in his small hands. – Mommy, we've made you breakfast, but it's a surprise, so don't tell anyone, okay?

Looking into his bright green eyes, you couldn't help but laugh.

— Okay, my good man, I won't tell anyone, – you hugged him tightly, holding him to your chest.

[flamingpudding]

Summoning Gone Wrong

Ties to: Ouija Board Prompt and Ghost Hunting Vigilantes Part 1 / Part 2

A/N: Thanks to @lazy-alex for commenting the base idea in Ghost Hunting Vigilantes for Tim trying to do a summoning that just goes wrong~

Danny calmly sipped the ecto-tea and resisted eyeing the ghost club Lady Gotham had placed next to her as she also drank her tea with all the elegance the spirit possessed. The Ghost King was pretty sure she had placed it like that, in his view, on purpose. He just wasn't sure if it was as a warning or as a preparation since the last couple of times he had been in Gotham, she had felt the need of using it against him.

"I am very glad that you are finally looking into that matter, your highness." The spirit commented, placing the cup back onto the table and refilling it. "I wasn't sure if you had been made aware of it before, if I had known that the old beings had not mentioned it to you before I certainly would have sooner."

Danny nodded. "Yeah, about that. What are these Lazarus Pits anyway? Clockwork only told me to look out for the color green, which is not helpful. And Pandora started on an entire history lesson regarding Lazarus and I am pretty sure that has nothing to do with these Pits your 'knights' mentioned."

Lady Gotham chuckled amused with mirth in her eyes. "They are only known as Lazarus Pits in the human world, my king, not in the Infinite Realms."

"So what…" Danny couldn't finish his question as his ghost sense went off. He really wanted to slam his head into the table. It had been months since his senses went off like that and he hoped it was just Cujo who followed him or Fright Knight. But as no one appeared to interrupt them, he got ticked off because that meant it was one of his former rogues who was up to something. He excused himself from his discussion with Lady Gotham who appeared even more amused than before.

Whoever it was he would send them straight back to the Ghost Zone, they were interrupting some important kingly business here!

A little earlier not too far away from the ghostly discussion, by a recent regularly vigilante visited occult site, three vigilantes stood before a summoning cycle.

Red Robin was crouching by the circle, chalk in hand as he drew runes and symbols on the ground all according to one of his research papers that summed up all the information he had gathered. Including information he had obtained from the Justice League Dark, mainly Constantine since the man owned him and wouldn't just tell on him, behind Batman's back.

It had been weeks since their last encounter with the teenage ghost. He didn't want to admit it but Red Robin was getting worried about the ghost. Both times when they left they sounded like something was hunting or hurting them and last time there was even that green swirly thing they saw for a short moment right after they had heard the ghost say their goodbyes with an actual voice. Besides, that ghost was a mystery to them and Red Robin wasn't known to leave any sort of mystery they encountered unsolved.

"Should we really do this without B?" Nightwing asked, eyeing the strange symbols the youngest among them was drawing on the ground.

"Fuck him. If we get him involved we wouldn't be doing this at all." Red Hood added crossing his arms. "I am more surprised that its only us three this time. I would have bet that at least one of the others would have joined too."

"Baby Bat is out on a mission with B. Spoiler and Orphan are on a outer space mission and Signal has an exam tomorrow." Nightwing shrugged. "It's probably better form Robin not to be here. He was pretty spooked after the last two times."

"Ha! Spooked? The kid is dead set on Pit Demons trying to kill us."

"We can't comple-"

"Finished the writing." Red Robin cut in dusting his gloves from chalk, he was still kneeling on the ground as he turned to the older two vigilantes holding his hands out expectantly. "Nightwing, you brought the candles?"

The vigilante in question handed over a plastic back with the label of a gas station. Red Hood titled his head in question, indicating that he was raising an eye brow under his helmet. The elder only shrugged sheepishly as Red Robin stared at the colorful duck candles it contained.

"I forgot you asked me to buy some and went last minute to the late night open counter gas station. They only had these colorful duck candles."

"Well our fucking ghost has some Humor. Might work better for them then."

Red Robin only sighed but still placed the candles in the circle the way Constantine had described to him. "We will have to see if this will work."

He had made sure to also draw up a protective circle around the summoning one just like Zatana had instructed and Constantine had insisted he would need. Lighting up the candles he stepped back next to his brothers.

"So according to Constantine, we are now supposed to recite a summoning spell and think about the ghost we talked to before to call them back to us."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"So…" Red Robin distributed a piece of paper to each of his brothers. "We start on three."

"One…."

"Wait let me read that shit first!"

"Two…"

"Slow down, little bird."

"Three."

The three of them definitely were not in sync. Nightwing struggled with some of the words while Red Hood ended up mixing in some chosen curse words when he stumbled over a word. Red Robin even though he had practiced before still struggled with some of the words also but still all three managed to get through the incarnation.

They waited with their breaths held for something to happen but the seconds ticked by, with nothing happening. After three minutes Red Robin let out a sigh, deciding that this was a failure.

Just as he was about to step up to the circle to blow out the candles, a green swirling portal like the one he had briefly seen last time opened on the ground where the summoning circle was and a figure rose up from it. The figure was entirely dressed in white with black gloves, boots, belt and hat. Their skin was just as white as the clothes they were wearing and the being was staring back at them with completely green eyes, no irises or pupils. They stood firmly and straight in the summoning circle, arms crossed behind their back and by the way they were holding themself appeared like an authority figure.

"That doesn't look like a 16 years old ghost." Red Hood commented, his hand resting on his gun holder as he stared down their summon.

"Red, you did follow all the instructions right." Nightwing asked his hands, also moving to take out his escrima sticks, eying the being that was now looking at them in what he assumed was contempt.

"Yes, I did." Turning to their summon the vigilantes eyed it carefully. "Hi, sorry about the sudden summon. You obviously aren't the 16 years old ghost we had been talking to before. So uhm, you are free to go again? Unless you happen to know a 16 year old ghost that had been to Gotham at least two times now?"

The summoned being didn't look like they were going to answer, instead they took out a green glowing book that had 'RULES' written on it and leafed through the pages. Stopping when it apparently found a certain page. Their eyes focusing on the page then back at them. Still not grazing them with an answer. Red Robin however noticed how their inclined their head, for a short moment, over to Red Hood before turning back to the book and turning a couple of more pages.

He hadn't been the only one as he felt Nightwing tensing next to him too as well as heard the soft click of Red Hood removing the safety from his gun.

"Unauthorized summoning with out of date summoning methods. Interruption of security works. Unauthorized usage of corrupted ectoplasmic waste and apparent coverup of a human infected by corrupted ectoplasm." The being listed and the three couldn't help but feel reminded of a policeman listing crimes.

"I, Walker, reappointed Warden by his majesty the Ghost King and self appointed head chief of the security department of the Infinite Realms, hereby declare all of you under arrest for the previously listed offenses. Especially you, punk." The ghost called Walker pointed at Red Hood who in return pulled out his guns pointing them back at it. "You will be presented directly to our King. To think there would be a subject that failed to report back their existence."

"The fuck you wanna do? I ain't going anywhere." Red Hood scoffed, his distorted voice sounding challenging towards the ghost.

"Not to be rude but how can he report something he didn't even know about." Nightwing added eying the ghost as well as the protective barrier. The being hadn't made a move toward them yet and it should keep it contained but that didn't mean they just could let their guard down, not like he would let them take any of his brothers anywhere either. He took a step forward in case he needed to cover his younger siblings, protectiveness stirring in him. "RR, did Constantine or Zatana give you a spell to forcefully send them back?"

"Not exactly but they said destroying the summoning circle should send them back instantly." Red Robin mused after glancing at his notes for a brief moment. He didn't dare look away from that ghost for longer than needed. Normally he would be thrilled about having summoned a ghost and probably ask it a bunch of questions he had, ever since their first encounter with that 16 years old ghost left him with a tone of unanswered ones, but not with this one.

"Maybe we should-"

"WALKER! NOT AGAIN! BACK TO THE ZONE NOW!" A white haired 16 years old looking flying boy appeared through the wall without destroying it like he just phased in. The three vigilantes stared at the new presence that looked rather ticked off. The teenager had a cosmic with green flame outlined looking crown floating over their head and were wearing a jumpsuit with a logo that looked like a flaming D.

"Hey could that be our little ghost bastard?" Hood more or less stage-whispered over to Nightwing and Red Robin.

"Looks 16, maybe younger but not like what I imagined." Nightwing mused.

"Ghost Kid -ahem- your Highness, perfect Timing. I was just about to apprehend-"

"No." The teenager interrupted, arms crossed as he floated before the other ghost. "We went over this when I appointed you as the Warden again. Back. To. The. Zone."

"Did… did that other ghost call him 'highness' just now?" The more he got to learn about ghosts the more questions appeared to come up and Red Robin would definitely need answers for all of them.

"Your Highness, we need to-"

"Back now!" The teen repeated as he moved his left arm to point at a portal he opened especially for Walker. "Or do I have to get Lady Gotham to kick you out of her haunt herself?"

Red Robin watched how the two ghosts appeared to have a stare down before the white one closed his rule book and bowed before leaving. Well he would have left if he didn't smack right into the protective wall the vigilante had set up before the summoning. Good to know that Constantine's advice worked.

"Pff - cough -" The teenager covered his mouth, hiding a laugh behind a cough as he closed the portal he had opened and reopened it inside the barrier. The white ghost only sent them the most disgruntled and offended glare Red Robin had seen in a while before going through the portal the teen had opened.

Before either of the three could say anything the teenager let out a sigh and muttered something about having to deal with Walker being naggingly annoying about security and summonings later again. As if noticing them for the first time the boy glanced over at them and instantly stiffed and Red Robin definitely saw recognition in the boy's glowing green eyes. Could it be...?

"Shit." The teenager cursed. Yup, that's him.

"You are-"

"Sorry, no time for talking, gotta get back to Lady Gotham." They interrupted before continuing to ramble on. "You don't really want to make an old spirit with a ghost club wait. You guys better forget what you saw here. I would like Man In Black wipe your memory if I could but well for now please don't attempt summoning like that again? Summonings like that are outdated and barely work correctly for us ghosts. Demon summonings are a different matter but for ghosts this won't work correctly anymore or at least not since I got the stupid crown. You either end up with some random ghost or Walker trying to arrest humans. I soo have enough of getting him back from all the attempts of arresting humans that broke 'summoning rules'. Maybe I should have Fright Night arrest Walker for forcing his summon whenever he notices human summons… Anyway! Don't try again. Okay? Okay. Thanks and bye!"

The boy blinked out of existence before any of them could get a word in. The three vigilantes stared at the now empty spot. Red Robin had so many more additional questions now after having heard the presumed ghost teens ramble. So if the summons from the Justice League Dark were outdated then maybe he would need to find a more modern summoning? Also the teen had mentioned a Lady Gotham and Red Robin could only assume that that had to be their local city's spirit judging by the name.

"Well… we know now what our ghost boy looks like." Nightwing offered after some time and Red Hood scoffed.

"How the fuck was that boy a ghost? He looked more like a meta kid than a ghost."

"Well judging by the voice he definitely was the one that talked the last two times."

"So Demon Brat's Pit Demon theory is true?"

"He didn't lo-"

"I am going to try and summon this Lady Gotham next." Red Robin cut in as he turned on his heel, determined to get to the bottom of this ghost mystery even if he had to pester the JLD members for a while.

""What?""

[overtaken-stream]

Sweets Full Of Lies

Sanji x F!Reader

``I think you stole something from me.``

``I stole something?``

This doesn't need a warning, this happens after the drum island and It's just tooth-rotting fluff for me and me only, be grateful I'm sharing my Pookie with all of you😤

The sky is captivating, gleaming, and full of wonder as it overlooks the reflective sea below, each star lit with passion is moving along the calm waves that are dragging behind The Going Marry, gently slanting the ship to its tastes.

The watch tonight is beautiful as the cure for the country's heart dims on the horizon, scattering pink cherry blossoms across the dark and endless ocean, each piece lightens the midnight, giving hue to a brand-new kingdom.

The scenery is getting further yet, the cherry blossoms follow after the ship, leaving no space for a threat too small.

The chilly atmosphere grows distant as the island strays and the crow's nest feels ever desolate in this bitter aftermath. If it wasn't for the subtle footsteps making their way up to your location in this stillness, you would have slacked off.

A nice scent of roasted baby potatoes entices your nose as a pleased sigh leaves you, slacking off indeed.

Crows nest is not made for two people, yet, with intense and swift maneuvers he lets the plates holding the delicious food dangle on his palms, your pupils follow them, until he brings the right one near your face. You spare him and grab the food, digging in with vigor, among the bites you let out a satisfied hum.

``This is delicious Sanji!`` Delicious as always, one can taste the love and passion through the spices and the warmth of the meal.

His voice volume dismisses the late hour of the night.

``Really?! Thank you (Y/N)-chwan~♡`` Sanji sure appreciates compliments from a lady, maybe a little too much. Though you don't mind his swooning, it's certainly fun to see him become overly affectionate and energetic, a considerable change compared to his interactions with the male members of the crew.

``Thank you too, Sanji.``

After you, Sanji turns to his plate, staring into the view that brought the night chill. He doesn't waste any time as he bites into the hot meal. The silence is welcome among the stars, shining bright from the dark horizon. The obscurity brings peace, the comfort of knowing little and needing no more.

The time is but an illusion as the meal on both plates shrinks until it's consumed with no remains left. Calm is not addressed between you two, finding peace in each other's presence in enough, no words are needed.

Binoculars rest on the floor, unused, but no amount of enlargement of distant images could find the reasonable explanation for the bravery brewing as you stare at the side profile of a blond. The soft features and the clean skin mix well with the pink undertones. You know he is handsome.

You're sure most would agree to that statement. Perhaps that's the thought that picks the simple, sweet, and corny line out of your teeth. It pierces the silent atmosphere.

``Sanji.`` You watch as he turns. The dim blue eye answering your curiosity. At first glance, the cook appears yellow or black, depending on the individual. However, you'd say his soul is the color of roses, with shades of light and hot pink mixing with his pale outer layer. Yet, you can hear a green-haired man argue that his inner soul is but a burning red and orange at the back of your mind. The color of blood on the tip of a silver knife he handles with ease.

You find yourself seeing all three views. Sanji is all of them. You don't seem to mind.

You watch that eye blink twice before opening your mouth.

``... I think you stole something from me.`` You find yourself craving that shade of blush that only appears on his face whenever a compliment is given to him by a woman. You want to see the pink blush appear on that ear once more tonight, it would be such a beautiful sight next to the falling cherry blossom petals.

You watch as Sanji takes in what you said. His baby blue lights up with curiosity and focus. He thinks about what he could have stolen as he goes through the memories of today, only to come up blank.

``I stole something...?`` The confusion settles as a smile appears on your face. The man appears oblivious to your deep emotion. The wicked hidden-entertainment. He can not distinguish the extra twist added to your lips.

``I think you stole my heart, Mr. Cook.`` There's a moment of silence that's quite loud, it stretches for a while as you stare at Sanji's widened eyes, you would have compared them to dinner plates if it weren't for the fallen cigarette, that you stomped and made sure to put out. (Can't forget to pick it up later!)

His reaction is not something you've expected. The frozen state as he gazes at you is new. The blank eyes speak of such a shock that you are not sure it could be considered as an emotion, rather a process of doubting oneself, the reality, and the life itself. You're thankful it doesn't last because soon the man you are familiar with, returns.

Sanii who closes his mouth and lets the pink petals land on his head, shining and adorning him with pink light. The blush that arises on his cheeks is shy, the pupil holding a small heart as love colors the iris. Eye round and sunken, Sanji seems small, his body unmoving as he gazes at you. Tongue dripping with romance.

``...I did...?`` You didn't know that a voice could be described as small. It's almost enough to shock you into silence.

Lightly, you bite your lip. You should know better by now.

Your mouth moved. It spoke in a tone you are unfamiliar with, almost like in a trance, addicted to a man much like candy, so sweet and sugar-coated. Your face must be red too, but it can't compare to the flustered Sanji standing in front of you, lighting up in shades more intense.

Cute.

Hopeful, he felt hopeful. The smell of fright coming off of him, is thin.

Shit. You might just devour him tonight.

[intothedysphoria]

The first words out of Billy’s mouth was “well what’s the point of it?”

This was a frequent phrase to leave Billy’s lips. Though it stung a little bit after Steve had spent so long scavenging for tickets.

It wasn’t like Billy was deliberately being a killjoy in fairness. He was more a self described pragmatist, which made sense considering he’d lived in a house where food on his plate was a coin toss most of the time. Billy liked things to have a point, a purpose and apparently Little Shop of Horrors on broadway didn’t fit the bill.

Steve would bring him round to it. Eventually.

He had on actually nice food, not just beans and meat scraped out of a tin. One carefully placed call to Steve’s favourite restaurant and Billy was swinging by the local Jamaican convenience store for the weekly shop, looking for food that was so spicy his eyes would stream.

And it wasn’t like Billy disliked music. Steve had spent enough time sitting in the car whilst Billy went to a Metallica concert, volume so loud it made tears prickle. He had as much, if not more, in his vinyl collection than Eddie Munson did.

Really, what Billy saw as pointless was what he’d dubbed “rich people shit.”

It was a broad category, which ranged from whenever Steve would try to rope him into wearing a suit for a wedding to Steve’s desperate longing to go back to the theatre. Musicals, in Billy’s eyes, were the dictionary definition of rich people shit.

(Apart from Merrily We Roll Along, which Billy had a not so secret attachment to.)

Steve pleaded and pleaded and pleaded. The man wouldn’t budge. It didn’t matter that it was camp or stupid or written by a queer trailblazer. Billy still stared with skeptical eyes and rolled back over to his side of the bed.

Steve wrapped the covers a little tighter around his torso and tried not to let his lip wobble at the lack of being cuddled.

It felt better when he woke up in Billy’s arms again. Well, a bit.

Robin had said he just needed to talk. Billy was an adult, he was perfectly able to listen and would be more than open to. Steve didn’t tell her that Billy was no longer the one who had issues talking.

Billy was being very nice to Steve that morning. Suspiciously nice. Like bringing him breakfast in bed and letting Steve watch The Sound of Music not at Christmas nice. The kind of nice he reserved for either anniversaries or when they were about to have a serious conversation.

It wasn’t the 15th of July so of course it was the latter.

He placed his hands on Steve’s knee and asked what was up. Steve managed to hedge for a solid 5 minutes before spilling. Then Billy made an odd face and disappeared into the wardrobe.

And pulled out a suit. Asking if this was the outfit he was meant to wear to a musical.

Steve smiled and said he could wear whatever he wanted.

The flying to New York was awful. Billy hated flying. More rich people shit. As was getting a taxi. And getting their coats taken at the door of the hotel.

Really, he only settled down when they were in the theatre lobby and he saw the picture on the Playbill. Then he burst out laughing.

Billy loved it. Steve knew he would.

He kissed Steve, so soft and mumbled “thanks lovely” on their way out of the theatre. Steve was absolutely jubilant.

And I’m a Mean Green Mother from Outer Space was the chosen song for Billy to sing in the kitchen for the next two months.

[amygdalae]

the best part of playing a githyanki character is getting to be a little green man from outer space

[roguelov]

Green-Eyed Monster

Summary: While Morpheus takes care of the Dreaming, you find yourself enjoying a past time of yours: finding and cuddling cats of the Dreaming. It was a fun and innocent game. Or it was. One day, Morpheus spots you with a cat in your lap and strangely becomes jealous. So, how will he solve this? By becoming a cat himself, of course.

Word Count: ~2.6k

Reader: Gender Neutral (not explicit)

Warning: Some minor jealousy, mostly fluff, light teasing and suggestive hints in the end

Requested by the amazing @dreamstatednightmare

Morpheus - the sole provider of the Dreaming and all of its residents - was obviously a busy man. His attention constantly pulled in every direction from ensuring dreams and nightmares were doing their duties, to aiding whoever asked, and to keeping the Dreaming afloat and in perfect order. For the Dreaming was a cog in the cosmic wheel which was of utmost importance, its effects rippled out to all realms.

You understood this greatly, Morpheus had responsibilities that came first, and that never bothered you. In fact, because of such reasons, whenever you visited the Dreaming you created a game for yourself. There were many wondrous, unimaginable things to see and do in the Dreaming, but strangely you noted all the mundane things. Things you could easily see in the Waking, things such as the occasional house cat trotting around the palace.

Did Morpheus have an affinity for cats? Or did cats have an affinity for Dream of the Endless?

You supposed it didn’t matter.

When Morpheus had business to attend to, you would go ‘hunt’ for cats. You would stroll throughout the palace, and its grounds - sometimes even venturing into Fiddler’s Green - to find a cat. To your surprise, it was quite easy. In minutes, you would find yourself tucked under a tree, or on a bench, with a cat in your lap and possibly another walking around. You would sit for what seemed to be hours mindlessly petting it, listening to its calming purring, or coo at the furry stray. You would even tell stories to them, be it fictional or from your own life.

You enjoyed this little game of yours.

So, when you visited the Dreaming tonight, you found yourself in a portion of the palace's lustrous gardens - the rose garden. The rose bushes stretched tall and wide as a thick wall, forming an extravagant labyrinth to get lost in. Roses of all colors bloomed from a pure innocent white to a dark red dripping with a passion. Yet, you sat on the outer edges under a tree; the tree had iridescent green leaves and glass like flowers hidden in the foliage. The sunlight always shined above, sending prisms of splintering rainbows all over. But, despite such beauties, you were here for a simpler reason. You smiled as you spotted a shadow again up ahead in the rose bushes. A distinct shadow you came to know well - a feline shadow.

You gently called out, “Come on out, I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Pale green eyes - almost yellow in the sunlight - peered out from behind the leaves. Its eyes nearly blended into the mess of various greens.

You smiled kindly, extending out your hand towards it.

A reddish brown nose poked out.

Back in the palace, specifically in the royal library, Morpheus rose from a chair away from the long thin table. “If there is nothing else, Lucienne, I would like to take my leave for the day,” he said.

Lucienne closed her journal, which now had a completed checklist written inside, and looked up at her lord. “Everything has been accounted for and addressed, sire.”

“Good. I will be leaving, but if anything arises do call.”

“Of course, my lord.” She nodded and began tidying up all the documents scattered over the table top. With new dreams and nightmares being created, space for them was now needed. The Dreaming was under minor maintenance and readjustments.

Morpheus scanned over the documents and blueprints, feeling satisfied with the solutions. His eyes flickered to Lucienne as she piled up the papers. “And do rest, Lucienne, you deserve it.”

Lucienne blinked then smiled softly. “I will, thank you.”

Morphues nodded, then strolled out of the library. The second the door clicked behind him, his thoughts instantly went to you. Where could you have run off to this time? He wished he could offer more of his time to you. His heart ached, knowing you were alone. You swore it never bothered you. However, it bothered him. Immensely. Surely, the Dreaming would take care of you; you could find entertainment anywhere and never grow bored.

But.

But, he wanted to be there. He wanted to show you wonders. In the end, however, he could not divide his attention so easily.

He sighed to himself, walking out to the grounds of the palace. You said you wouldn’t stray too far.

“Oh, look how lovely you are.”

Morpheus’s footsteps faltered. He twisted around to locate your voice. Under one of the trees bathed in rainbows, there you were. You sat cross-legged on the soft patch of grass with your back pressed against the trunk of the tree.

He moved to call out to you, almost believing you were speaking to him, when a cat - a brown tabby cat - slowly walked towards you.

You cooed as the cat reached you and you began scratching behind her ears.

Morpheus oddly felt himself deflate.

The cat purred, leaning into your touch. Smiling, you whispered praises. You ran a finger over the dark stripes, softly tracing over the somewhat misshapen ‘M’ on her forehead. The cat closed her eyes, tilting her head back loving every second.

You chuckled. “Do you like that?”

At the sound of your laughter, such a sweet sound, a dark cloud began to form over the King of Dreams’ head.

You scratched the tabby’s cream colored chin, and your smile widened as her purring grew louder. The cat pushed her head into your hand, grateful for every ounce of affection you were giving. When her pale green eyes opened, she seemed as if she was smiling up at you. Her eyes twinkled. Then, without warning, she hopped into your lap, curling into a ball.

“God, you are adorable,” you whispered, giddily.

She rolled onto her back, peering up at you. You wiggled your fingers in front of her face and she meowed and batted at them. You laughed, loud and wholeheartedly.

Morpheus’s jaw clenched.

Why? Why did anger worm into his heart over such a small insignificant creature?

His eyes locked onto you. You peered down at the feline. Your fingers carefully caressed over her head and down her back. So delicate, so loving. A sickly green clouded his vision. He craved your attention after such a grueling day, and to see a cat be the prize of such affection? Jealousy and disgust filled him. How dare this creature tread on what was his?

He did not think twice.

He stepped forward.

His mortal figure withered away into a cloud of glimmering yellow sand. Each drop quietly scattered across the ground, like hushed bells. As the cloud shrunk, a black long hair cat strolled out. His gaze landed on you, or more accurately the stray in your lap. With his head held high, he walked over while his tail flickered side to side.

The tabby cat perked up her head, noticing Morphues first.

Morpheus, with his unnaturally bright blue eyes, locked eyes with the cat. Disgust and hatred written plainly in his eyes. The cat pinned her ears back and swiftly leapt out of your lap, sprinting off back into the rose bushes.

“Well, what got into her?” You asked, confused.

You glanced over to where the cat was looking earlier, before her grand escape, only to spot a new cat. The gorgeous all black cat had a regal air about him as he approached you. You shrugged off the other cat’s peculiar behavior. Smiling at the black cat, you stretched out your hand in a welcoming gesture. “Hello there, little one.”

The cat sniffed your hand only once before pushing his head into your hand. Your smile widened. He seemed to like you more than any other cat you met. The cat purred and instantly jumped into your lap.

You laughed. “Okay, make yourself at home.”

The cat looked up at you with such beautiful blue - and somehow familiar - eyes. You started scratching the top of his head, and he sunk down into your lap. His tail happily swished back and forth.

Morpheus could not deny how heavenly this all felt.

“You are truly a beautiful cat,” you hummed. “And so soft too.”

Your fingers carded through his fluffy, cotton candy like fur. You wanted to bury your face in his fur. Oh, it was so warm too, like a gentle hug, soothing and welcoming. Another sense of familiarity tickled in the back of your mind. The texture, to some extent, but the color reminded you of -

It clicked.

You huffed through your nose, amused. You continued to scratch behind his ears. He snuggled deeper into your lap, purring constantly and nonstop.

“I know it’s you, love,” you whispered. The cat jerked his head up, staring up at you with those endless oceanic eyes. You ran a finger from his nose over his forehead. You bent down kissing the top of his head, over the smoothed out fur. “So, now I am left wondering why you have taken the form of a cat? Care to explain, Morpheus.”

Morpheus stared, silently. Does he dare say the reasoning? Does he keep up the charade?

You scratched under his chin. He immediately closed his eyes, and began purring once again.

You snickered. “Is that why you are like this? To be scratched? To be pampered?”

Morpheus’s eyes shot open. He huffed, partially annoyed; be it at you for the accuracy of your questions or himself for acting this way, he did not know why.

“Or to be cooed at?” You teased. “My sweet, adorable Morpheus.”

Morpheus turned his head, holding it up high. Now, that was ridiculous.

“Oh come on, you came to me like this.” Your hand ran down his back through his midnight fur. “You clearly wanted this.”

Morpheus peered out of the corner of his eye to you.

A smile graced your lips. Brilliant and beautiful.

His heart skipped.

Maybe, this was enough. The charade was clearly over.

He leapt out of your lap. In mid air, a tornado of shadows and golden sand swirled tightly around Morpheus’s tiny feline figure. It grew bigger and wider in the air. In a span of a few seconds, black boots landed firmly on the ground. The sand wisped away twinkling like distant stars, and Morpheus stood above you back in his mortal form.

“Aw, did you have enough already?” You tossed him a cheeky smile.

Morpheus rolled his eyes as he tried to hide an amused smile. Despite your teasing, he could not help but smile when you smiled. Even if the reasoning was at his own expense.

“So?” You hummed.

Morpheus raised an eyebrow.

“Care you explain why you greeted me as a cat?”

Morpheus’s lips thinned. Apparently, anger was still heavy on his chest. Anger and embarrassment. He glanced away, avoiding your gaze. He looked to where the other cat scampered off, luckily she had not shown her face again. He was thankful for that.

You stared at him, silently dissecting him. Morpheus was always one to close himself off to negative, unsavory emotions. Yet, despite his efforts, you could read him fairly well. Your eyes followed his gaze towards the rose bushes, to the exact spot the tabby cat darted into.

“Was it the cat?” You asked, starting to pull at the thread.

Morpheus tensed. He slowly turned his attention back to you. His silence was your answer.

You snorted. “Morpheus, were you jealous of a cat?”

“No,” he quickly answered. Far too quickly, it only confirmed your suspicions.

You laughed. Standing up, you leaned in towards Morpheus. “You were jealous of a measly little cat.”

Morpheus huffed.

“Now, why would you be jealous? It is only a cat, Morpheus.”

“A cat which has garnered all of your affection.” He fired back.

You blinked then shook your head, still smiling. “It is a cat, it has not ‘garnered all of my affection’.”

Morpheus grumbled. “Then why shower it with any affection at all? Why not seek out my company instead?”

Your smile softened. Here is the true problem. You reached up with one hand and cupped his face. “Because, you are busy and I do not want to disturb you.”

He placed his hand on top of yours. “I know, but I wish you would. You do not have to be out here finding entertainment in strays.”

“But, I like it.”

He frowned.

“It is just a game, Morpheus. An innocent game of finding cats while I wait for you.” You stroked his cheek with your thumb. “It’s honestly relaxing and a bit fun, you should join me sometime.”

Morpheus frown deepened. That was possibly the last thing he wished to do.

“Oh, don’t be like that. A few cats cannot steal my heart, okay? And you know why?”

Morpheus stared. You silently prompted him to ask, to play along. He shook his head, but his lips slowly tugged back into a smile. “Why?”

“Because you already have it.”

He blinked. Your eyes shone with adoration, such beautiful eyes. He sighed, leaning into your touch. What a fool I am, he thought. His hand curled around your wrist, wishing to stay like this. “Apologies, love,” he muttered, “it seems I have let my emotions get the best of me.”

Not the first time, you jokingly thought. “It’s okay.”

He turned his head, kissing the inside of your wrist. “I think I may have a solution for our limited time apart.”

“Oh?”

“Would it be inappropriate to ask you to join me occasionally while I work? It could also provide an opportunity to show you all of the Dreaming.”

You smiled. “I would be honored.”

He returned the smile. “I hope you do not grow bored during such frivolous tasks.”

“I don’t think I will, and maybe I can help you. It could speed up the process.”

“Perhaps.”

With your free hand, you brushed back strands of his messy raven hair. “I just want you to know if you want my attention,” you leaned in pecking his lips, “just ask for it.”

Morpheus’s hands skimmed down your body, wrapping around you. “Is that so?” He whispered, playfully.

“It is.” You smirked, “You don’t have to go through crazy shenanigans like turning into a cat.”

He laughed once. “I suppose not.”

“But,” you began. Morpheus cocked his head curiously. Your arms fell over his shoulders as your fingers started to play with the edges of his hair. Your smirk grew, and your eyes twinkled with mischief. “But, you may not get any work done with me around.”

“Oh, really?” He leaned in, matching your smirk.

You hummed. “I may want all your attention to myself, I may become a distraction.”

Morpheus’s lips brushed over yours. “A welcoming distraction if ever.”

You chuckled. “How about we take this elsewhere? Maybe inside before another cat comes prancing in to ‘garner’ my affection.”

Morpheus had to suppress a groan. “I will not love this down, will I?”

“No, you will not. You were quite cute as a cat.” You kissed him - fleeting, but oh so loving. “But not as cute as you are now.”

He shook his head, but still smiled.

You took his hands, guiding him towards the palace. “If you want my affection, then let me show you how much you mean to me, my sweet king.”

Smiling, he tugged you back towards him, pressing you firmly up against him. His lips brushed over the shell of your ear. “Only if I get to return the favor, my love.”

You laughed as Morpheus quickly took the lead. He nearly rushed back inside, now knowing he will have your fullest attention - the thing he always craves.

[happilyhertale]

hello! I was hoping to send in a tom bennett x reader request that I have in mind.

basically, reader is sent off by her father to have an arranged marriage with an older, rich man. she's young and still has a whole life ahead of her however she decides not to fight against her father and does what pleases him. reader feels miserable, her husband barely acknowledges her and when he does, he says nasty things.

one night, she stumbles upon a man, tom bennett. two end up beginning a secret love affair of sorts. please? 💜

Life anchor – Tom Bennett x female!reader, Part 1

Pairing: Tom Bennett x fem!reader

Warnings: Misogyny, light violence

Author’s note: Hey you (:

A little Tom Bennett story requested by the wonderful @chainsawsangel 💕

Sorry it took me so long to write this! English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 2.9k

Part 2, Part 3

Other stories of mine

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"No discussion. You will marry him"

You just looked at your father in disbelief. A burning spread through your eyes, brought on by the tears that blurred your vision.

Yet you refused to give in.

"You can't be serious... He is almost your age, father!" you tried to say in a firm voice, but your voice threatened to fail.

A sigh left your father, "It's our chance..."

"... your father. It's your chance," you had interrupted him.

"It's our chance for me to cement my place in politics. To earn more money. He can guarantee us that. You just have to agree to marry him," your father said to you.

Single tears now ran over the rim of your eyes. You looked to the side and tried to suppress a sob. A heaviness spread through your chest that would not let you go for a long time.

"Father... please don't do this to me..." you whispered without looking at him.

But at first there was no reply from your father and you had to make sure that he had not left the room. But when you looked to him, you saw that his gaze was fixed on you.

"We have no choice," he said to you quietly.

From then on you knew that you had no choice - you had to marry William.

In those moments, your suffering began to grow. In the prime of your early twenties, you found yourself married to a man who had outlived nearly fifty years of his life. Since that union, a heavy unease has settled in your chest that refuses to go away.

William has a face that is not far from attractive; some would even dare to call it attractive. If only his inner character didn't cast a shadow over his outer appearance. While his physical stature is tall and his mane of hair exudes a lush darkness, it is the elegance of his clothing that always graces him, coupled with the incessant curve of a smile on his lips.

On the surface, he treats you with an almost warm politeness. And yet, in this realm beyond the surface, he remains uninterested in the totality of your being, unmoved by your passions or aspirations that truly define you as a person. In his perception, you are nothing more than a decorative facade, a charming companion on his arm. The words between the two of you are sparse, relegated to a realm of brevity.

When confronted with problems or troubling circumstances in his immediate environment, he brandishes his wealth as the ultimate remedy. His conviction is based on the notion that the amount of financial resources directly correlates to a person's intrinsic worth. He conveys this conviction by subliminally making his interlocutors feel inferior compared to him. You find disgust in this pretense and detest the artificial facades he puts on.

The house in which you live is surrounded by a huge green space. It is a really pretty property, but still you feel lost there. It is oversized, its rooms reflect emptiness. And those who share most of your time there are your employees. The fact that William is rarely present doesn't bother you - solitude is a cherished companion.

In the midst of this house there is a room set aside just for your comfort. When the burden of your heart becomes too heavy, you retreat there to rest. It is a refuge to bear the burden in your chest.

William's return often takes place under the gaze of the moon, the late hours being his time of arrival. But at times, a communal dinner graces the quiet nights. Occasionally, when you are already in bed together, he becomes a nocturnal partner. His body language varies - sometimes averted, sometimes seeking closeness. Almost like a dance between your husband's ignorance and his desire to be intimate with you.

There is an undeniable lack of zeal in this scenario. You endure it with unwavering stoicism and wait patiently for him to complete his act. As soon as sleep catches up with him and he has his back turned to you again, you rise and quietly retreat to the bathroom. Hidden in a cabinet is a small vial of diluted acetic acid. Using an pipette, you wash his semen from your body with it. The weight on your chest, which never leaves you, is almost unbearable at such moments.

One evening, William opens up to you that you are going to visit an adjacent naval ship. It is of great importance - well, not to you.

The naval ship is docked in your city's harbor, almost like a symbol of England's maritime power and importance. Politicians of the highest importance have been invited to join an expedition aboard this ship, meet its dedicated crew, and make connections.

William has agreed to participate in this momentous event, and by his side you will find yourself in his presence as an escort. On a quiet afternoon, you set out on your way. First you will visit the berth of the ship and later you will move on to a nearby banquet hall, for a small celebration with the crew and the politicians.

In the midst of this journey, a gentle rain falls from the sky, decorating the window panes of the carriage in glistening rivulets. The reverberations of William's words ring dully in your ears, and your nods of time punctuate the conversation as you are drawn to the fleeting ballet of raindrops on the glass.

As the car approaches its destination, the port's towering cranes wave like sentinels of industry, drawing your gaze to the ships resting on the calm water. Your gaze falls on the naval vessel. "H.M.S. Keith" you read as the car passes the ship. A strange name for a ship, you think to yourself. The car stops, a sign that you have reached your destination and it is time to put on a smile.

Even before your feet hit solid ground, William stands resolutely in the midst of his comrades-in-arms, deeply engrossed in a speech.

A smile curls your lips as you make your way to his side. Your smile is reflected on the lips of the other wives, who also stand beside their husbands.

In the midst of the gathering, your gaze falls upon the captain of the ship, a prominent figure emerging from the sanctuary of the vessel. He embodies the essence of a leader. His portly figure is crowned by a cap, behind which hides hair made silver by time and experience.

He greets the ladies with a gallant gesture and gives each hand a gentle kiss. Inside, your familiar heaviness weighs on your chest, a weight that threatens to impede the rising and falling of your breath, but you wear your smile undaunted like an ornate mask.

With a fluid movement, the captain turns his attention to the gentlemen, and together they enter the waiting ship. The men walk ahead of their wives, almost like obedient dogs you trot along behind them. You are led to the upper deck and find yourself in the midst of cramped quarters. You realize that the men are doing their work in this confined space day after day, entangled in the toils of war.

Your thoughts are momentarily interrupted as you come face to face with the assembled crew. A disciplined line of sailors stands before you, and as the eyes of the sailors notice the presence of the women, a chorus of whistles sounds playfully through the air. Quickly, the captain steps in and restores decorum to his ranks. With a mixture of curiosity and fascination, you gaze at the unfamiliar faces until your gaze lingers on a pair of steely blue eyes. Unable to break the connection, you feel trapped as his gaze seems to peer into the depths of your soul.

Suddenly, a faint smile graces his lips, making your heart flutter. As if in a trance, you avert your gaze, and a blush of surprise coats your cheeks as you notice William at your side. His arm wraps around your waist. You return his gaze. There is a slight irritation in William's gaze as he notices the color of your cheek. But the blank smile replaces his irritation almost immediately.

"Come on, let's leave the smelly guys behind, we're going to the banquet hall," he whispers to you. You make an effort to agree with him with a gentle smile and a subtle nod. You turn and follow William down the path into the hall, steel-blue gazes lingering on you until you disappear completely from his view.

Entering the banquet hall, you are led to a table where influential elite are gathered. An interplay of cigar smoke and the amber swirl of whiskey dances through the air. Laughter resounds like a melody, even if some of the banter is not particularly sophisticated. The tightness in your chest almost incessantly present.

From time to time you eat a snack from your plate and occasionally take a delicate sip of wine, but the moments drag on like an eternity. The steel-blue eyes do not leave your thoughts. At some point you are so absorbed that you no longer notice much of the conversations around you.

"What do you think of that?" William asks you suddenly. You look at him a little startled, "Apologise. What did you mean?" you ask him.

"Little silly... Caught up in your thoughts again...", he chuckles lightly.

"George here just had the idea that it would be a wonderful idea to join the sailors on the ship for a day," William says to you.

"Why would that be?" it slips out.  William laughs lightly and the other men agree.

"Well, so that we can show that the elite care about these men," William answers your question.

You look at him. You have little to no desire to spend time on a ship. But you smile slightly and nod slightly.

"Excuse me," you say quietly and stand up from the table. With purposeful steps you walk towards the bar as a slight ache returns to your chest, almost overwhelming in its intensity, seeking comfort. The bartender greets you with a warm smile and your request for a martini is effortlessly fulfilled. Conversation is minimal, words an unnecessary bridge to your needs.

As the martini stands before you, embodying in its clear form the calm you wish to feel within you, you do not hesitate for long. With practised ease, you lift the glass and its contents find refuge within you in a single, deliberate movement. You pinch your eyes shut briefly as the liquid fire flows down your throat, leaving a stimulating trail in its wake.

As you awaken from this fleeting reverie, you become aware of a presence beside you. A subtle jolt of surprise runs through you, only to be quickly replaced by recognition - those steel blue eyes, captivating and familiar, are upon you again. A soft blush adorns your cheeks once more, accompanied by a barely audible clearing of the throat, a modest attempt to regain your composure in the face of this unexpected encounter.

"Hello, love...", he says in his deep voice, "... I'm Tom," he smiles at you.

You can't help but surrender to his voice. A smile spreads across your face.

His gaze bores into yours again and he too begins to smile. Only his seems to be surrounded by a lightness.

"Don't ya want to tell me your name?" he finally says.

You chuckle lightly and shake your head gently.

"Excuse me. Hello Tom, I'm y/n," you finally say.

His smile widens and exposes his slightly crooked teeth. His smile makes you feel warmth in your chest where otherwise there is only room for the usual heaviness.

"Hello y/n. And... ya like to drink alone?", he asks you without his gaze leaving you.

Your gaze goes from his smile back to his eyes, "Well... Sometimes that is the only thing that helps you," you say honestly and order another drink.

Tom watches you intently, his gaze fixed on the fine furrow in your brow and the heaviness that envelops your smile. The fact that your smile does not reach your eyes strikes him almost immediately. Clearly a weight rests on your thoughts. He chooses silence rather than words, however, and lets his attentive gaze rest on you.

As you also take your next drink almost in one go, Tom reacts gently yet firmly as you put the glass down. He grabs your hand, an unspoken invitation for you to follow him. A shock of surprise runs through you, but the alcohol in your veins transforms your reaction into an unexpected giggle.

Amidst the pulsating rhythm of the dance floor, he brings you to a standstill. Couples sway and spin around you, a sea of movement and you in the midst of it. You can't help but smile, and your joy is reflected in Tom's expression. His hand is on your hip, and his other hand tenderly intertwines his fingers with yours.

"What are you doing?" you ask quietly, but still smiling.

"Well... love... I think it's called dancing," he says cheekily as he begins to lead you across the dance floor.

Enveloped in an irrepressible lightness, your laughter blends in harmoniously. His steps, which deviate from the usual dance steps, find a unique cadence that stages a dance all its own. Amidst the elegance emanating from the neighbouring couples, your finesse may differ, but with each passing moment, his rhythm becomes a familiar melody for you.

A perpetual grin adorns Tom's face, proof of the joy that unites you in this improvised waltz you dance together. With each successive step, the distance between you decreases and the feeling of his touch makes its way through your bodies like a gentle current. The longer the dance goes on, the more its warmth becomes an embrace that you long for. The outside world no longer exists for you.

But like a curtain falling over a fleeting act, the pleasure is abruptly interrupted. Unexpectedly, William appears in front of you and interrupts the enchanting choreography.

"Y/n. What are you doing?" he asks you, without even giving Tom a glance.

"Well... I think it's called dancing," you say before you realise how cheeky your answer is. The alcohol and Tom's lightness rubbing off on you make you answer.

William looks at you, doesn't make a face. But suddenly a small smile appears on his lips, but you know that smile.

"Of course..." is all he says before he grabs your wrist and pulls you along. You cast a fleeting glance over your shoulder and see Tom looking after you, his steel-blue eyes gazing at you almost longingly. In this quick moment, you don't get a chance to say goodbye.

As your attention returns to William, you realise that his gaze is fixed firmly on you, an intensity that makes you shudder.

"You will not disrespect me like that again, is that clear?" he hisses in your ear as he pulls you closer to him.

"You can't just dance with the pack!" he adds.

You glare at him as he literally pulls you outside and comes to a stop.

"You want to spend a day on the ship with this pack, but I can't dance with this pack?" you ask him.

Your head flies to the side as you feel the blow against your cheek. A beeping sounds in your ear and you gasp slightly. Your eyes are squeezed shut and tears rise almost simultaneously, but you try to ignore the pain.

"Do you want to offer yourself as a whore because you disagree with something?" he hisses at you.

Your cheek throbs and you have trouble following William's words. You hold your cheek with your hand, hoping that the pain will subside. Slowly you turn your gaze back to William.

"I will not tolerate my wife behaving like this. And you will obey me," he almost shouts at you, emphasising every word with his raised index finger pointed at you. You say nothing, not a word passes your lips. You just nod slightly, your hand still on your cheek.

Silently, William leads you to the car, his grip tight and locked around your upper arm. He literally barks at the smoking driver that he wants a ride home immediately.

Your cheeks are on fire, the blow leaves a rosy hue, and your tears, by now running down your cheek, give your skin an almost glistening touch.

A heavy silence prevails the whole time, and you do not perceive a single word from William's lips. When you arrive at the house, you retreat to your room without many words. Seeking refuge from his presence that night.

Nestled in a cocoon of blankets and pillows, your gaze rises to the ceiling as your thoughts weave a tapestry of memories. Your mind wanders to Tom - his laughing gestures, the way his touch ignited as he led you across the dance floor. The abrupt end, heralded by William. You roll onto your side and snuggle against your pillow, its soft embrace giving you comfort. But before you can think about it further, sleep envelops you and takes hold of your consciousness.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag list

@aemonds-wifey @hoshi-miharu-blog @arryn-nyx @aemonds-eyeball @praline357 @melsunshine @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @lauftivy @bellaisasleep @snh96

[cthulhusstepmom]

Fae!Soap Superstitious Bastard! Ghost: Gifts

(Just a heads up this got way more intense than I meant it to but that’s kind of the Fae for you.)

TW: mentions of torture, human remains

Soap is a collector, though not of any one thing that Ghost can discern. He’s seen the man pick up anything from an abandoned rolex to a nondescript piece of broken glass. It doesn’t seem to be about size, it’s not shape and definitely not value; Ghost had thought he’d pinned it down as things that caught the light a certain way but was swiftly proven wrong when Soap went on a spree of collecting pebbles and sticks. He’d glared sullenly at the first jagged gray rock when Soap had picked it up before swiftly changing the subject when he was noticed. There was no apparent rhyme or reason to any of it… well not quite. There was one singular pattern that stood out in his mind, a single thread that held firm no matter how much he rearranged or plucked at it.

 Anything that Ghost gave him, Johnny kept. 

The first had been a bit of pretty blue ribbon that was a close enough approximation to Soap’s eyes. It’d snagged on a bramble bordering the clearing where Ghost had set up for overwatch. Without even thinking he’d snagged it on his way to RV down the hill, offering it to Johnny in the armored car taking them back to base. Soap hadn’t said a thing. It was then that Ghost realized maybe giving your subordinate a piece of trash you’d found in a bush perhaps wasn’t the most well adjusted way to express affection. He’d been about to play it off with a quip, beginning to retract his fingers ever so slightly, when Johnny snatched it lightning quick from the palm of his hand, holding it close to his chest for a moment before stuffing it into his chest pocket next to his journal. Soap had given him a small strangled “Thank you” as they sat the rest of the ride in an awkward but warm silence. Johnny disappeared almost immediately after they got back to base but Ghost could see light in the space under his door so he wasn’t too worried that he’d done permanent damage to their relationship.

After that his eyes just seemed to catch on things that he assumed Johnny would like. He couldn’t help it. Little glass marbles, a river stone with an interesting marking, a large brown feather; Somehow it all made its way into the hands of his Sergeant. Usually with a gruff “Here”, barely waiting for Johnny to hold out his hands before he dropped his small offering into his gloved palms. Soap has also gotten over whatever his episode of silence had been, responding with a blinding smile and enthusiastic gratitude and a happy quip. (“Thanks Lt!” a piece of antler, Montana “Y’ shouldn’t have!” an old toy car, Finland “Find this on sale?” a scrap of pink fabric, Brazil “Ghost you’re spoiling me.” green river stone, India etc.(no he didn’t catalog all of them that would be creepy. He only wrote down his favorites.))

The next time Ghost thinks he’s permanently damaged their relationship and scared Soap off for good comes after an operation sweeping out an AQ base in Afghanistan. 

It’s stuffy and dark, the blistering heat of the day beginning to fade into the bitter chill of the night. The compound has long since been abandoned by all but the stubbornest of rats, slowly being reclaimed by the wild desert it carved its blackness into. They roll into the courtyard through the open front gate, the outer walls have seen multiple breacher charges and calling them walls at this point is more out of respect than any dedication to accuracy. The whole place has already been swept by drone and Laswell has had satellite eyes on it for months confirming just how fucking dead it is. They’re here for information, the drone identified documents left behind as well as at least two hard drives. 

The 141 has split off, each clearing their own section and radioing in at even intervals, they’ve learned the hard way that it’s better to be safe than sorry. Beyond extra caution, the whole place has an eerie, black aura that drags forth memories of scorpion stings and dull knives biting at his flesh. Assisting in his nightmarish stroll down memory lane, Ghost is assigned the lower levels of the compound. Each room is another scene from a past he tries to forget, filled with rusted over implements of pain and brown stains no one cared to clean. 

Something in the last room makes him pause. 

A small barred window allows light from a waning moon to pool into the room, catching on something on the table. Small, most no bigger than his fingernail, a collection of about five objects sits in a tray on the corner of the table. Brilliant white patches shine in stark opposition to the bed of rust brown they lay on. 

Teeth. Human teeth.

His mind is acting on autopilot when grabs them and stuffs them in a pocket, so similar but so different to his first experience with the ribbon months ago. He finishes his sweep of the room, conveying his findings back on comms (“Seems like we’re late for the party.” “If only you didn’t take so long to get ready.”-Soap “Shut the fuck up the both of you I just saw a rat the size of a terrier.”-Gaz “I’ve got the hard drives if any of you fuckers remember why we’re here.”-Price), and turns back to rendezvous, his mind now firmly on finding his comrades and getting the hell out.

As they start readying themselves to duck into the humvees they arrived in, Ghost’s muscle memory kicks in to complete his self assigned mission objective. He turns to where Soap stands almost expectantly at his side. It’s not every mission that he has something he’s decided is a worthy offering but it has become more often than not. Mind already halfway back to base, a gloved hand chases down each tooth where they’ve burrowed themselves in the pocket of his tac vest, collecting them and dropping them in Soap’s proffered hand with a grunt. His brain turns back on when the bloody bones hit his Sergeant’s glove, panicking because what the fuck did he just do? What kind of fucking sociopath gives his friend(more?) human fucking teeth as a souvenir. Much less human fucking teeth that were pulled forcibly out of some poor bastard’s skull during a bygone torture session. 

His hand is trembling. 

Ghost forces himself to look down and meet Soap’s assuredly outraged and disgusted gaze. 

Only he doesn’t.

Johnny is staring down at the teeth in his palm with a look of fucking reverence. His pupils are dilated beyond just the darkness surrounding them and Ghost’s detail oriented eyes catch the slight flare of his nostrils on every inhale. Soap slowly tilts his head up to meet Ghost’s eyes and a gasp lives and dies in his throat.

“Oh Simon, you treat me so well.” His voice is gravelly and thrumming with an emotion that Ghost doesn’t know the name of. But, god if this is the look he gets after bringing Johnny desiccated human remains?

He’ll rip the teeth out of some unworthy son of a bitch himself.

[betweenblackberrybranches]

Castle in the sky AU

Chapter 1: Under the Sun

@succulent-momma because you wanted to be tagged

The clouds beneath you moved fast when you looked out of the small window, your left hand pressed against the slightly vibrating glass. Just as you thought you might catch a glimps of green between the white masses a big hand grabbed your shoulder and ripped you back upright into your seat. "Dont dream, The steering in the back s  makin trouble again!" Grimacing you ducked under the bawly mans arm to crawl into the dusty backside of the crammed flying engine. The back was your least favourite place in this ship especally when in the air. the windpressure wipped it around quite agressively in these hights and after you had reattached the outer walls two times, the last few months, because they had fallen off mid flight, you did not trust it to hold your weight. But the steering was luckily a quick fix most of the time. Nothing that a medium sized slap and a bit of grease couldnt do. "Hand in joint!!" you yelled out to let the two others know not to move the steering while you work. Carefully moving not to put too much weight on the outer casing or to touch one of the boiling hot tubes you dabed the grease on the joint with the back of your thick leather glove and hoped that Drill in the cockpit would be mindfull of your fingers. The drumming humm of the engin was almost bearable back here but there is nothing that would make you truely consider staying in this part of the craft.

Though it is really the only reason Drill and Rusty had taken you with them on this flight in the first place. You were small and agile enough to reach even the smaller spaces, making you important for a long distance flight like this, being able to quickly fix these things in the air instead of landing. This is the first time you had been asked to acompany them on an actual gig. For years you had worked yourself up from running small errants, still as a snot nosed child, to Rusty taking you on as one of his apprenticess, to one of the better mechanics of the little workshop. There surely were better ones but there deffinetly were worse ones. Well but lucky for you Rod had to stay home this time to watch over his wife after she had given birth so they had asked you to come with them. Yea, you had been on test flights before but it just was not the same. They never flew this high when you were with them before...

Slowly you crawled backwards accidently hitting Rustys back with your feet when trying to wiggle out of the small space.

"Hey brat s the steering fine again?" Rustys broad hands closed down around your ancles and dragged you out all the way out of the hole, that you had used as your entrance to the tailend. Now looking back you were surprised that you had even fit in there and that you hadnt cut yourself open on the sharp metal edges when Rusty had pulled you out. His big hands immidiatly janked you back to your seat and rested on your shulders as he stood up to poke his head into the cockpit above.

"Try it out... yea? ... yea okay!"

You hadn't been able to hear the other side of the conversation but by the little squint around Rustys eyes when he sat back down you figued everything worked fine again.

"Good work, kiddo."

You chuckled as you fully settled down again. To those two you would probably allways be the little snotty kid that you were when you first met. But it didnt bother you at all.

You looked up after a while. Rusty had his eyes on the various meters of the mashine, displaying heat of the engine, how full the tank was, oil and many other things he had tried to teach you numerous times but that just dont seem to want to stay in your head. Well he was eyeing them, his actual attention was on the newspapers he had in his hands. You would have to ask him if you could have a look at them later but for now you craned you neck slightly trying to get a look of the guy next to Drill in the cockpit. The guy who charterd the plane, asking for the strongest engine to fly extremely high and long flights with. Usually this plane was used for delivering important packages. Atleast that was what the guys called it, you were never naive enough to belive that, there were too many shady deals and secret night flights. But you werent one to snoop because this was your second family in some way and they payed extremely well. This guy didnt seem to be transporting any "important packages" though. It seemed more like he was seaching for something giving Drill coordinates now and then and commenting on some landmarks. You didnt hear most of it but the little bits that had found their way to your ears had peaked your curiosity. Without thinking you had gotten up off your seat slightly to peek through into the cockpit. The man was sleek looking, suit and all, the type that you might see smoking a cigar. He looked wildly out of place next to the gruff giant on the pilot seat. His hands fiddeling with something out of sight to you and his brows knitted together in concentration. With his graying slicked back hair and wild stubbly mustache he looked around the age of Drill and Rusty but he had a sleaziness around him that you could not quite pinpoint.

Rusty yanked you down by the back of your shirt and you scrunched your face thinking of how that surely left oily stains that would stick to your neck later.

"Head down" Rusty grunted as he pressed you on your seat again. After a small pause he gently shoved you towards that small bullhole you had practicly been fused to for the last few hours. And your eyes almost grew to be the size of dinnerplates as you gawked out at the mountains peaking out of the thick clouds. You never had seen mountains like this before.

You almost didnt notice the amused snort from behind you as you gripped the sides of the window with both of your hands, pressing your nose against the glass.

"Whoa shit this really is it huh" you breathed out as your eyes followed the outlines of the massive stone formations deep below. A small chuckle escaped Rusty before he went back to studying the thin letters of the newspapers.

You werent sure if it had been another hour or more when Drill spoke up, loud enough for even the both of you down under to hear.

"Thats MADNESS  We will NOT risk our life for a so called HUNCH of yours!"

You looked up, at Rusty who looked back at you with a simmilar expression of concern. Just as you wanted to stand up Rusty already climed over you into the cockpit starting to discuss something you couldnt quite understand with the two men upstairs. A heated argument seemed to break out between the suited man and the brothers as you wiggled out between Rustys legs. The aircaft bopped as it entered into a strong aircurrent and stumbeling forwards, having freed yourself from Rustys legs you hit your head slightly on the tubing leading the coolant to the engin. Luckily those were the ones that were not boiling hot or this would have not just ended in you yelping and holding your head where you now had a tender spot. But now cowering on the ground, looking up you saw what you figued that argument over you was about. Looking through the small window directly up you saw gigantic dark clouds, now and then lighting up with lightning. The kind that, if seen on the horizon, would make the sheep herders at home franticly call for their animals to come to shelter. The kind that, if you saw them while planning a test flight you would just, not fly. But with the course you were going you would have to pass throu it unless Drill would somehow manage to steer sharply to the side or dip above it. As the argument over your head intesified you could not tear your eyes from the ever moving cloud mass as the hair on your body started to stand up to an almost painfull degree. Every second that Drill was not evading this, the chance to get away dwindled more. Somewhere from the back of your brain the fact that you were sitting in the middle of the sky, only a thin metal box protecting you from the forces of nature, from that big storm up ahead, emergend and scared you shitless. You knew that this ship was sturdy enough, hell you yourself had been the one to help Rusty and Drill check it through just this morning, but a dread you had never felt before filled your bones as the first outstretched arm of the cloud wall reached the ship and parted around it. Fabric shifted above you as Rusty climbed back down into the lower part of the ship. He clenched his jaw and then stopped as he peered at you laying on the ground.

"Get up and give me a hand up here kiddo"

You scrambled to your feet, still having to crouch in the crammed space and helped him open one of the storage spaces. He leaned in, shoving a few supplies to the side and for a moment you were sure you had seen the glimmer of a big gun of some sort. Instinctively you patted the back of your pants for the outline of your knife but you quickly took your hand back before he pressed four big packets of fabric and iron buckles into your hands.

"You know what to do right? Bring two to the guys up there, leave one for me"

You stared at him in disbelieve.

"Are we really gonna go in there?!?! Thats arcenine!?" You all but hissed and by the way his jaw flexed you knew he thought so too.

Quickly climbing up into the cockpit you threw one of the chutes to the customer and helped Drill into his, so that he didnt have to take his hands off the contolls. Now looking through the much bigger window up here, your heart sank into your stomache. That wall of clouds was way closer than you liked it to be and the different air currents around it seemed to almost fight for controll. The clouds around the ship got sucked up into the slowly spinning vortex at an alarming speed. Your hands started shaking as you failed again and again to fasten the last buckle around Drills chest until one of his caloused hands shoved itself before your eyes.

"S' fine dont worry twerp"

Your fingers finally stilled enough to get the chute all set up and your hands found Drills shoulders for a moment, giving them a small squeeze before hastily climbing back down to put on your own chute. Down there Rusty already waited for you, helping you put the gastly thing onto your shoulders. This would be your only lifeline if things went south and you dreaded nothing more than having to use it.

You clawed at the seat when the air current finally took a hold of the craft, making the engin roar and the matal outer casing groan under the sudde  pressure change. Rustys newspaper had been hastily thrown to the ground as he now stared at the displays with furrowed brows. The ship rattled as it pressed forwards into the dark clouds and a small lightning danced over the window, lighting the insides uncomfortably for a few seconds before letting it sink back into a comfotable darkness. You pressed your eyes shut digging your nails further into the old leather of the seat. The roaring thunder let you flinch and the pressure settled in your ears making your head feel a swimming sensation.

Suddenly it was all gone. Natural sunlight momentarly lighted up the lower part of the ship.

"Left! THERE!! ITS THERE!!"

The man in the cockpit yelled allmost extasic and you looked up just to blink at what you saw.

There were trees, and some sort of deffinetly man made structure. But this couldnt be, you were higher than the highest mountains would reach.. this was impossible.

"THE CITY IN THE SKY!!!"

That man was surely crazy, but so were you aparently because you deffinetly saw something out there.

As fast as you had caught a glimpse of it it had already hid behind the clouds though and the pressure on your ears had returned, now turning into a throbbing headache. But the man in the cockpit above started yelling at Drill to turn back to bring him there. You didnt hear what Drill said, it was lost in the groaning of the ship as another current grabbed it and pushed its right side up agressively, making you slam into the outer wall next to you.

You tried to regain your bearings holding your head as you scrunched up your face. Why had Drill not steered against this current? He was a brillant pilot why did he not see this coming?

Until you realized and looked up in horror seing Rusty looking back at you with a face that said it all. "Steerings jammed again." You stammered with a finality to it, it was not a question.

"Twerp! The steering or we are all good as dead!!" Drill yelled fighting against being drowned out by the engin. There was something unspoken in it. Stay safe.

Rusty squeezed your arm tightly before you crawled back into the shaking tail end of the plane. Thanking whatever higher power that you were small enough to fit even with the chute strapped to you, eventhough the metal buckles dug painfully into your chest and sides. Your breath hitched with every inch, with every testing shift of weight and as you reached the steering and yelled the usual "Hand in joint!" you even feared that the yelling itself might dislodge the part of the outer casing you were holding onto at that point. To your horror you discovered that a medium slap did not do the trick this time as the joint just wouldnt move. "Fuck!" You punched the joint with as much force as you could muster up but it did not budge

"Fuck! No Fuck this!" You yelled as you looked around franticly to think of something. But the panic had already set in. You peered back at Rusty, out of reach, who stayed at the entrance of the tail end holding the sharp edges so tightly you worried he might cut himslef. You had only once seen the man with a look like that on his face. Glazed over like when an engin had disconected from a craft while going on repairs and had crushed Pipes leg. What you saw right there on his face was pure fear, and you wished you had not looked back. All you could do to make your heart calm down was close your eyes.

So you did. And when you opened them again you had a plan. It was a bad one but better than nothing. With shaky hands you smeared as much of the grease as you could onto the joint hoping the next part would do the trick. You turned onto your back, which was a feat in itself in this small space. You looked back at Rusty for a last time giving him a lopsided grin. Then you kicked the steering with all you had.

Once.

"Kiddo! Stop!!"

Twice.

"You gonna fall!!"

You felt bad, hearing his pleading tone but Drill was right. If you didnt get the steering to work you were all dead.

So you would up for one more kick. And to your surprise the steering moved! The grease spreading and making it go smooth. You looked back again seeing Rustys face light up shakily, stretching his arms out towards you as much as he could so he could pull you out swiftly. You ginned and moved to turn onto your stomache again so you could crawl the little distance you had to go to meet him.

But as you moved your knee the casing beneathe you gave way halfway, only being held up by one side. Your breath hitched and your eyes flicked towards Rustys. You saw the panic in his eyes as he took a breath to tell you something. You didnt hear what because as he brought out the first sound the other side of the casing gave way and your whole being focused on holding on for dear life, cutting open your hands on exposed, broken bolts. And as another shudder went through the engine and Rusty yelled your name you lost grip and plummited, your chute getting stuck and ripped slightly as it opened prematurely almost decapitating you. An air current immidiatly took hold of the it ripping you up and wirling you around until you fully lost sight of the small red aircraft. You had no idea what was up or down as your limbs got tangled in the lines of the chute and all you could think was that this surely was worse than just falling to your death. One of the line suddenly wipped around hitting you in the face hard enough to make you see stars and white splotches started to creep their way into your vision until you fainted.

The first thing you noticed was a red, warm glow behind your eyelids. Then the pain set in and your eyes flew open on instinct looking around to asses the situation. To your surprise you were alife. To the point that every little movement made it clear how very painfully alife you were. First you only saw clouds below or above you, you werent sure and the strings of the chute in which you were pretty badly tangled. Looking up, you guessed, you saw that the chute had settled in the branches of a tree. Looking down you saw.. nothing.

You went slightly rigit at that realization. But after a moment of nothing happening but the tree slowly swaying in the wind you started trying to untagle yourself, swinging slightly towards the tree to hopefully get a grip on one of the lower hanging branches. Grabbing blindly at a thick branch you winced, a throbbing pain washing over your hands. But you did not let go instead you hoisted one of your legs over the branch to get your hands free. As you looked at them you realized how deep the slashes really were. These should probably be sewn up. But first you had to eskape the plummet to your death. Slowly you managed to curl one of your legs around the trunk of the tree dragging youself closer until you could hold onto it with both your legs and arms. Your whole body screamed, the chutes lines digging into your skin but your mind finally settled down now that you could securely hold onto something. Carfully reaching back you beamed as you realized your knife was somehow still secure in your pants and you used it to cut yourself loose, not able to untangle yourslef any further on your own. Slowly sliding down the smooth bark until your feet touched the grounds right next to the cliff into the nothingness. Stumbling back you tried to bring as much room between you and the crumbling ridge as possible, scrambling on the dusty ground.

For a while you just laid there. Your chest heeving as you grabbed the ground tightly with one and your knife with the other trying to ground yourself, closing your eyes. After some time you started to actually hear the world around you, that had been so eeryily quiet while you had fought for your life high on adrenalin. The wind rustled the leaves of thesurounding trees gently, insects sirred around and even the beconing calles of some birds echoed through the air. And faintly, far away you could hear the croaking of frogs.

Water!

Sitting up you stared at the caked dirt in and around the wounds on your hands, little stones nestleing in between the sand. Ouch.

You decided that you could probably leave the chute unatended for a while to clean your hands and get rid of that terribly burning feeling in your throat. You didnt even care if the water was dirty, eventhough you knew you should.

Walking on wobbly legs, knife still in your hand, you followed the sounds of croaking, steping through thick bushes and on a carpet of dead leaves and needsles from surrounding trees.

A slow dripping steered you sharply to the right as you stepped through some reed and suddenly found yourself on a moss riddled white cobblestone platform. Flat stepps lead into a shallow basain of water under a mostly broken down arch, most likely once part of an aqueduct but now laying in ruin.

Your jaw slacked at seing this but before your thoughts could fully catch up to you, you already found yourself kneeling down at the stepps leading down to the clear water and washing your hands. Then you dipped your whole head into it trying to cool off your head. Under the seering sun it had actually become quite warm and you head felt like it was filled with the stuff you had to scrape off an engine after it overheats, gooey mainly.

Your face burned in the cold water making you realize that the line hitting you in the head probably did more damage than you had thought. You knew you should be getting up to figue out if there was anyone you could ask for help around, if you were lucky Drill had landed the plane somewhere around here and the others were looking for you. You scoffed, yea as if. Your chance of surviving that fall and the chute malfunction were so low he would never put all their lives in even more danger by turning around. You knew him well enough to know that and respected him for it. It was a miracle you were still alife afterall.

Laying on your back in tha half shade of a tree bowing over the basain, the wet backside of your hands laying on your burning face you tried to come to terms with your situation. This was definetly the place you had seen through the clouds for just a moment, right? Because you would have never in a milion years survived the fall to the actual ground, not with the chute ripped and all tangled up. You only got away from it with bruised arms and legs because the actual fall was not that far.

An old tale for children that your grandmother used to tell you came to mind.. something about a king and princes and floating cities ... an ancient kingdom, huh?

But it just didnt quite come back to you, maybe it had been too long since you had heard it last or maybe your exhaustion just caught up with you as you felt all tention leave your body, sleepieness slowly pulling you under.

Until a sudden rustleing of leaves made you sit straight up, staring in the direction it came from. Nothing could have prepared you for what you saw before you. You had thought maybe a large animal or bird had made the noises, maybe even another human. But there, balancing on top of a crumling wall reaching out towards a large fruit on a high branch, uselessly swinging around its arm to close the last little gap, stood a being made of shiny metal. A little noise akin to a gasp escaped your lips as you sprung to your feet, immidiatly regretting it, the world spinning around you dizzingly for a moment. Now the being made of metal had noticed you too, turning their head towards you and staying still for a moment before opening their mouth and produching a kind of squeeling sound. The fruit hung forgotten as the big creature hastily turned around fully and lost their footing falling face first into the dust. It wasnt a far fall but you still cringed at the sound of rock scratching against metal and took a few stepps towards it, worried that it might have.. died? Or whatever the equivalent in this situation was. But it already jumped back to its feet and after just two strides closed the distance between the two of you, cooing at you while grabbing your shoulders, turning and staring at you like an interesting rock it just found. Big fingers traced a line over your face and grabbed your hands, inspecting them gently. Now looking up you were sure you heard about these kinds of beings before, ancient machines, used as workers and soldiers before the fall of that certain kingdom in a story turned fairytale... but this one looked different then what was pictured in the books, less spiky. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. A dark bronze body radiating warmth, probably because this guy had heated up in the sun. Speaking of which its face had the shape of a stylized sun front row and back row of turning slowly, into different directions, retracting now and then, acompanied by a constant clicking noise.

"Wow" you breathed out as you stared at its gigantic hands working your fingers through them and taking a closer look at the intricate joints fitting perfectly, not even showing a seam, whoever had made this was a master of their craft. You looked up as a melodic, chime like cascade of sound, came from the metal being and rolled through the air. A thin tin layer had partially moved itself in front of the white shining glass eyes giving them a gentle, happy form. Whatever it had tried to express right now might have gone over your head but you were certain that it was in a good mood.

You grinned at it awkwardly, picking a little at the small bits of flaking yellow paint on its fingers. Its face really was the only place the paint was mostly intact, showing flowing details in orange and gold. You knew you were staring but so was the big guy in front of you, who now started to go over your arms and legs closely prodding at forming bruises and abrasions, almost as if evaluating them. You only stopped it when those large hands moved to hitch up your shirt, likely in search for more wounds. But you had non of it pushing the hands away from you and taking a step back. You werent going to let this big metal guy strip you down like that even if it.. he? only ment well.

His.. yea his, you decided, face turned on its head rays retracting slowly and shooting out again one after another around its face. Thinking. You guessed.

Chiming noises spilled out of the metal beings chest as he suddenly went and picked you up, arms outstretched as if he thought you would claw at him like a wild animal. The scratchmarks on his casing painted a wild picture and you couldnt help but crack a little smile at the thought of him picking up an dangerous predator like a little pet.

You werent in danger, somehow you knew.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

juni's x files liveblog masterpost

for those who love organization, you are in luck! here is a link to my thoughts on every single episode of the x files. i hope this is helpful for those who are new to my blog, want to relive certain moments, are watching along at their own pace, or any other sort of person who is interested. i'll be adding a link to this post to my pinned for convenience.

reminder that my first few thoughts were much shorter than my current ones, and they were posted on my main account. i even skipped note-taking on episode 2! i'll have to go back and rewatch someday. also, if an episode past the first few feels skipped over, it's probably because it featured content i felt uncomfy discussing in detail. you can read the post where i explained that choice here.

i'll update with more links each time i reach a season finale!

season 1:

1x01 Pilot

1x03 Squeeze

1x04 Conduit

1x05 Jersey Devil

1x06 Shadows

1x07 Ghost in the Machine

1x08 Ice

1x09 Space

1x10 Fallen Angel

1x11 Eve

1x12 Fire

1x13 Beyond the Sea

1x14 Genderbender

1x15 Lazarus

1x16 Young at Heart

1x17 E.B.E.

1x18 Miracle Man

1x19 Shapes

1x20 Darkness Falls

1x21 Tooms

1x22 Born Again

1x23 Roland

1x24 Erlenmeyer Flask

favorite scully moments + things we learn about scully in s1

favorite mulder moments + things we learn about mulder in s1

favorite duo moments

season 2:

2x01 Little Green Men

2x02 The Host

2x03 Blood

2x04 Sleepless

2x05 Duane Barry

2x06 Ascension

2x07 3

2x08 One Breath

2x09 Firewalker

2x10 Red Museum

2x11 Excelsis Dei

2x12 Aubrey

2x13 Irresistible

2x14 Die Hand Die Verletzt

2x15 Fresh Bones

2x16 Colony

2x17 End Game

2x18 Fearful Symmetry

2x19 Død Kalm

2x20 Humbug

2x21 Calusari

2x22 F. Emasculata

2x23 Soft Light

2x24 Our Town

2x25 Anasazi

favorite scully moments

favorite mulder moments

favorite duo moments

season 3:

3x01 The Blessing Way

3x02 Paper Clip

3x03 D.P.O.

3x04 Clyde Bruckman's Final Repose

3x05 The List

3x06 2Shy

3x07 The Walk

3x08 Oubliette

3x09 Nisei

3x10 731

3x11 Revelations

3x12 War of the Coprophages

3x13 Syzygy

3x14 Grotesque

3x15 Piper Maru

3x16 Apocrypha

3x17 Pusher

3x18 Teso Dos Bichos

3x19 Hell Money

3x20 Jose Chung from Outer Space

3x21 Avatar

3x22 Quagmire

3x23 Wetwired

3x24 Talitha Cumi

favorite scully moments

favorite mulder moments

favorite duo moments

[crying-fantasies]

Like carrier like sparkling

Humans, specially the ones from the new era, and specially the ones that have been born in the era of capitalism are way too good merchants, at least some of them.

That's what the Lost Light crew learn while watching the group of humans buying spices, chocolate, potatoes and rice, with many other things that, apparently, are indispensable in outer space and the continuous stock of it is necessary when you can't buy these so easily out of earth.

"Do we really need to go all the way back?", at the moment Rodimus whined about it, he wasn't even sure if his crew aboard would want to go back there after so little.

You looked at him, stopping the continuous typing over your datapad, "we could also buy some metals", your assurance catched his attention, now that was something the others would also want, his oral lubricant was increasing by the mere idea of energon with zinc and iron flakes.

In other occasional Magnus would have say something different or even Rodimus because returning to Earth almost every few solar cycles means no adventure time soon, but they can't say much when the new market the humans in the Lost Light created is what doubles the flow of credits and shanix on the ship, and the buying of basic metals and crystals made their basic energon blow with flavor when humans realized their "cooking".

It's something endearing, even the very same humans referred to themselves as squirrels before winter, Nautica searched for the meaning and the picture of the little thing almost made some bots to offline from the cuteness those puffed cheeks created, being totally baffled by it or the explanation you would give about it, surprising them even more by your scientific notation of how those little cute things were related to some kind of turborats.

Even with the construction and function of the green house aboard the Lost Light full of something called potatoes that you explained to him that could grow on martian land even if it was mere fiction to some point while he only heard about it.

Rodimus can remember that in different moments even years after, but in place of the group of humans or you, he watches Sunset talking with the same mannerisms you once did, moving his servos to get to his point.

"One third well grinned, the other mid, and the last one entire, also some peppers, I'll try to get those to grow back on the ship", Sunset moves his digits for all his orders, taking in mind all the products he needs to take over and how much is going to be sold to the humans settled in New Cybertron and the other colonies while doing mental numbers with his budget.

"Sure", the man makes a signal with his trembling hand result of advanced age and a whole truck comes with the order, "you act a lot like your family", the man referred to the previous humans in the LL, remembering how they came when his grandfather was the owner of the business and he merely a child, "good to see that you keep on your family traditions"

Sunset keeps silent, looking bashfully to the side and thinking about those words while a hand tightened around his datapad, he isn't sure how he feels, happy to some degree at least, only to turn around and see his father with tears at the edge of his optics, a servo over his intake, apparently moved beyond salvation.

"Dad, don't-"

"You act just like your mother"

Aw mech, why is he like this?

[wannab-urs]

Pedro Pascal Character Fic Recs | Vol 36

AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist

Howdy folks!

Welcome to my bi-weekly fic rec list! This is everything I read in the last two weeks. There's some seriously amazing shit on this list, y'all. If I counted properly there are 9 fics, two of which are series.

All info provided by the author unless it was blank, in which case I filled it in.

Punish me, Officer Djarin

Din one shot by @beskarandblasters

You've been thrown into an imperial prison for anti-empire speech. During your sentence, a new prison guard is hired, Officer Djarin, and you take a liking to him.

f!reader, reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, uneven power dynamic, brat taming, degradation (scumbag), fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, his glove in your mouth lol, no use of y/n

To Tell You the Truth

Ezra series by @concussed-to-pieces

Our story begins in the Green, after a certain meeting that culminates in an explosive Truxican standoff...

Survival, Worldbuilding, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Healing, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Extreme Duress, My First Work in This Fandom, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Past Abuse, Feelings Realization, Artist Reader, Reader is a prospector, Outer Space, Sharing a Bed, Roommates, Mutual Pining, Vaginal Fingering, Praise Kink (if you squint), Religious Terms used improperly, Catholics H8 Me, Remember, no man's penis will heal you okay, and fanfictions are not research, But I'm an indulgent fuck so it's okay, Vaginal Sex, big dick energy, Eventual Smut, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Just get it all in there, adoration, Very Flowery Terminology, Happy Ending

Sanguine

Ezra one shot by @marisferasiop

since being turned as a boy into- whatever liminal state of cryptid he is now- Ezra has walked this earth ageless and alone, never finding his place or a partner for long. He interrupts your meal in the city one evening, and brings you home to strike up a deal; feed from him, alone, and keep one another safe from discovery. The fact that he finds his purpose under the soft graze of your teeth and home between your thighs is a nice side effect.

lots of blood, smut, soft yearning sweet boy Ezra, mapuche mythology and monsters, schmoop. Ezra is a subby little sap in this.

Routine

Frankie one shot by @endlessthxxghts

Frankie makes a new routine for himself to help with his mental health. In that routine, Frankie stumbles upon you.

POV switching - stops towards the end, then POVs are combined. Friends to lovers. Slightly scared and reluctant friends to lovers. Slow burn. Canon divergent to Frankie’s Triple Frontier storyline (No history of lady or child for Frankie). Brief mentions of South America and Frankie’s mental health. Brief therapy talk. Overthinking!Frankie, but Reader comforts and reassures him. He’s not insecure the entire time, promise lolol. Hints of angst, but this is me we’re talking about — always will be a happy ending here🫶. No physical description of reader besides coffee shop uniform (no size descriptions used) - any descriptions are neutral, no adjectives to describe (purely things like “your thigh” etc.). No use of “y/n”. SMUT heheheh (making out, cunnilingus + fingering, unprotected P in V sex + cumming inside, breast worship/titty sucking).

Go Your Own Way

Javi P one shot by @schnarfer

Loving you isn’t the right thing to do

1979 Texas, very toxic relationship, sort of enemies to lovers if you squint a bit, absolutely no happy ending for our fuckboy Javier, no descriptions of reader except she has hair and there are outfit references, no specific ages mentioned in 1979 but they would both be early 20’s, Cheating/infidelity mentioned, smoking (OF COURSE), mention of drinking and drugs, two mentions of vomit, the good stuff? we’ve got flirting, kisses and smut; protected PIV, oral (f receiving), fingering, very light dirty talk, couple of light slaps, pet names (cariño, baby), Javier POV, I’ve tried to remove any overt British-isms but some may have slipped in, probably a bit of canon divergence, as well as wild historical and geographical inaccuracies but we’re going for vibes, yeah? and a note, we’re always Fleabag coded here.

Some fools fool themselves

Javi P one shot by @freelancearsonist

You were meant to be a mission—an insider that Javi could wring information from on some of the biggest names in the trade. It didn’t go to plan, but maybe that’s not so bad.

Rated MA for unprotected p in v sex (don’t do this irl pls), oral (m receiving), throatfucking, handjobs, creampie, spanish dirty talk (both javi and reader - translations in footnotes), reader has female anatomy and uses fem pronouns, reader wears a bikini, smoking/nicotine use, cheating (reader is married this is the mob wife fic you all asked for), kind of angsty but mostly just porn with the slightest sprinkling of plot for ✨flavor✨

The District Sleeps Alone Tonight

Marcus P one shot by @whataperfectwasteoftime

I am a visitor here. I am not permanent.

angst, breakups, mentions of Teresa x Patrick Jane

Cabuorir

Oberyn/Din/Reader series by ToricTailor (AO3)

You would have torn the heavens asunder to stop it.

Fix-It, That's Not How The Force Works (Star Wars), Get This Man A New Ship, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M, Reader sandwich, Force-Sensitive Reader, Polyamory, DVP, more

I want it, I got it

Joel one shot by @beskarandblasters

Joel gives you unlimited access to his credit card to shop online while he eats you out.

reader is able-bodied, no outbreak AU, porn with little plot, no age specified for reader, reader sits on Joel’s lap, established sugar daddy relationship, oral sex (F receiving), fingering, squirting, pet names (angel, baby), no use of y/n

Happy Reading!

[historia-vitae-magistras]

Part Two: Space

Part One: Here. Part Two: You are Here. Part Three: Here.

Author's note: Inspired by the 1950s short story "The Man Who Came Early" by Poul Anderson. This is as close to sci-fi as I've ever written and therefore not accurate to the ISS or other actual science because its time travel. Warnings for panic and some goreless action.

International Space Station 400 km above the surface of the Earth. 21st Century

“Careful up there, Jones.” The navigation officer’s voice echoed through the intercom, making Alfred look up, a domed helmet in his hand. He grinned.

“Don’t you worry yourself, darling,” He replied. “I’ve sat on some bison bigger than that panel.”

He could practically hear her eye roll. “Stay in communication and don’t pull another stunt like that backflip.”

“Aww, c’mon. Kids on the live stream went wild for it.”

“Try me, Jones. There won’t be a presidential order on earth that’ll get you back up here again.”

“Laaaaaame.”

The ISS floated serenely 400 kilometres above the earth. Alfred sailed from the equipment locker, pushing off until he reached the airlock. An old hand at this, it was almost as intuitive as horseback riding was when he was younger, but his heart sped up anyway. He clamped his helmet down and checked the comms.

“Eagle Scream, back to baseboys, over. Confirm baseboys.”

He could practically hear an eye roll from the command module. “Eagles don’t even scream. They get that sound from a hawk.”

“That should be a state secret.” Alfred grumbled. There was a whoosh as the airlock was sealed at the inner end. He opened the outer hatch, giving it one final pat for good luck. Hitching his tether, he grabbed the metal rails and took a moment. He never got sick of this part, the void of nothingness with the sheer expanse of the universe before him. The sun was at 40 degrees; the planet was just behind him.

Tossing a look over his shoulder, he could see the little green sweep of Nantucket at the edge of a grey nor’easter. He released one hand to get a better look. He was a handsome bugger from this angle, almost a thousand miles above the earth. He couldn’t quite reach his ass in the suit, but California looked good regardless. When he was done being vain, reverence swept him through the weightless silence. He leaned his helmeted head against his shoulder, watching his pale blue dot. He smiled: home sweet home.

“Move your ass, Jones.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He snapped out of his reverie, grinning in the helmet. After releasing the rails, he sailed gracefully up and behind until the Canadarm appeared. She was preloaded. All he had to do was line it up, fix some wiring and screw it in, and they were golden.

“Jones to command. Jones to command. Come in command. Need you to swing’er over nice and easy.”

The bright white arm twitched on its crane-like elbow joint, and its flexing attachment worked as steel fingers clamped on the panels and kept them in place as Alfred fastened them. It had better joints than Matt, only whirring softly instead of popping and creaking like organic bubble wrap. Alfred positioned himself near the panel that needed replacing, flexing his hands and cracking his knuckles before pulling out his wrench. The arm reached out, perhaps a bit too fast.

“Whoa, easy on the gears! My brother will shit bricks if we fuck up his baby.”

“Sorry.”

Alfred replaced the panels for an hour. The steady guidance of the Canadarm provided the stability he needed to make damn sure the solar panel was securely in place. He stopped, needing an adjustment as the command module chatted with Houston.

Alfred patted the arm and said, "You've got a better grip on that panel than Mattie does on his mental health." She was almost alive, the machinery warm, and she practically purred.

“Captain, we’ve got some funky radiation readings.”

“Almost done, just crank’er up .2 degrees and I can get this finished and come back in for some sweet tea.”

“Houston advises re-entry.”

So? They hadn’t ordered to retreat, and navigation wasn’t panicking. “I just need oh point two degrees and thirty seconds.”

“Noted.”

Canadarm moved a touch. “There you go.” He centred the panel and lined up the screws. He was the last one in when the alarm rang. Emergency lights flashed red and blue. Alfred had never heard them in action before and grew cold. Comms opened again. No. He breathed. He was not panicking.

“Captain, they’re ordering re-entry.”

“Retract the arm. On my way.”

Alfred gripped the rungs and swung his line out of the way. He pushed off hard and scrambled over the top of the rigid cylinder of the can-shaped module. It was dark here, away from his work lights and sliding across the expanse towards the hatch. He caught himself on the handle, keeping his movements controlled.

“Captain?”

“Almost there.”

“Radiations rising!”

Alfred glanced towards the sun, not looking at it. It was brighter now, with dark fire spots. The rings of light jumping up the Corona stretched and flexed like the hoops of the flexible baleen skirts he used to crawl under every now and then before Lemonade Lucy came along and put him on the straight and narrow.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me we were going to get solar flares?”

“The data didn’t show any!”

“Well, that just dills my pickle.” He muttered. He was almost at the hatch. It was brighter now, and he scrambled up the rungs, barely touching one before climbing the next. Alfred swung at the hatch.

Almost there, almost there. Why was he hot? He shouldn’t be hot. His fingers slipped inside his gloves, but he had the lever in his hand. The world fell black before he closed his fingers.

Incident Report Diplomatic Security Service Bureau of Diplomatic Security State Department

On [redacted] and at [redacted], the ISS and ground services at Carnaval facilities reported unusual radiation readings and advised the crew to return inside. See addendum one. Captain [redacted] was in contact with personnel until Captain [redacted]'s suit abruptly transmitted a distress beacon. A thorough search of the ISS was conducted, leading to the discovery of an empty spacesuit, with the helmet still attached. The inner flight suit, including the Snoopy cap and lining, was not recovered. It has been suggested that a replacement may have been made. However, the space suit contained four viable samples of [redacted]'s DNA, leaving no doubt that it belonged to [redacted]. See Addendum Two.

Two simultaneous investigations were conducted by a multidisciplinary team of experts from [redacted] and [redacted]. Interviews were conducted, telemetry data analyzed, and video footage reviewed. The spacesuit Captain [redacted] wore was intact, with no signs of damage or malfunction. Video footage and telemetry data did not reveal any abnormalities or anomalies, except as previously noted. Crew interviews did not provide any significant information regarding the incident. Pushback regarding these results has been seen overseas, significantly [redacted] and [redacted]. It is the recommendation of this body that our counterparts be updated as to the results of this investigation due to the international familial ties of the next of kin and the diplomatic pressure being leveraged.

[artzychic27]

Betrothed is my fave TT episode can you do some incorrect quotes with the DC kids Marcthanial? I’m interested to see how that unfolds.

Nathaniel: You're getting married?!

Marc: Indeed, and I cannot wait to return to Tamaran. I have been having a bit of the sick-home feeling lately, and am eager to introduce my home planet to you, my friends. First you must ingest some fresh-squeezed glorg, or perhaps sput-flinks! And wait until you see the portkins. They are as big as a flarnop!

Lacey: Um, am I the only one afraid of the big portkins?

Nathaniel: You're getting married?!

Aurore: Yeah, anyone we know?

Marc: I have never met him. My betrothed has been chosen for me by the Grand Ruler of Tamaran.

*Marc looks up to the spaceship´s window and sees Nathaniel on it*

Nathaniel: You're getting MARRIED? And to SOMEONE YOU'VE NEVER MET? *He notices that he's out of the ship in Outer space and quickly swims back into the ship to regain oxygen*

-

Zoé: *Watching Marc, now hunched over on the table and stuffing his face* I'm guessing you picked up your table manners on Earth?

-

Marc: I have missed you, Galfore.

Galfore: And I have missed you ... Prince Marc.

Villain/Hero Class: PRINCE?!?!?!!

Marc: *sheepishly* Oh, yes, I am...second in line for the throne. Perhaps I forgot to mention?

-

Galfore: Nooba gulshtik Myzan'r sol! *He pounds a fist against his chest*

Marc: Hesbad rutha Galfore kank!

*Close-up of the giant; he snarls and pulls back from him, raising both meaty arms and bringing them down. He screams*

Zoé: Stop him!

*Zoé whips out a handful of discs, Ismael primes his laser eyes, Reshma's pincers snap menacingly, and Denise whips out the lasso of truth. Before anyone can move, though, Marc's scream gives way to laughter. Galfore has seized Marc and is chuckling as he tickles him*

Cosette: Um, unless they tickle people to death here, I think you can chill.

-

Marc: Mavi?

Mavi: Surprised to see me, little brother?

Marc: *Glares* I am...surprised to see you out of prison!

Mavi: Oh, that. Well, after you had me thrown in jail, I got bored. So I broke out and took over Tamaran for kicks. But enough about me. I'm sure you're eager to see who you'll be spending the rest of your life with.

*A young man, bare-chested, very well built stands with a mane of hair blowing in the wind*

Marc: *Hearts in his eyes; drooling*

Nathaniel: *Crying in Denise's arms*

*The young man steps to the side to make way for something that drops in from above. It is very large, contained in a metal bowl that floats just above the floor, and made entirely of writhing green appendages that look something like slimy elephant trunks. It expels huge globs of slime that splatter against the floor. The creature lays an arm/tentacle on Marc, whose jaw drops as he gags*

Mavi: Marc, meet your groom...Glgrdsklechhh!

Cosette: Uh... Congratulations?

-

Kim: I can't tell what's a bed, what's a chair, and what's alive! How am I supposed to take my beauty nap?

Nathaniel: How can you even think about sleep?! We can't let Marc go through with this!

Nino: Come on, man. You sure you're not just, you know...jealous?

Nathaniel: Of that ugly, smelly whatever-it-is? You saw his face, Nino. He doesn't even like him!

-

Mavi: Can any among us offer reason why these two lovebirds should not be together...forever?... Didn't think so. Then...do you, Glgrdsklechhh, take Marc to be your husband, as decreed by the Grand Ruler of Tamaran?

*He makes some gross-ass sound. Mavi takes it as a yes*

Mavi: And do you, Marc, take Glgrdsklechhh to be your husband?

Marc: *Gags* I...I...

Mavi: Yes, brother dear?

Nathaniel: MARC!

*Suddenly, the doors burst open, revealing the Hero and Villain classes on the other side with their powers and weapons at the ready. Now the spectators turn to watch, murmuring amongst themselves at the disturbance, and guards move up to protect Mavi and the couple*

Mavi: Silence! SILENCE! Do you wish to do what is right and take this thing to be your husband?!

Marc: I do ...not!

-

*Marc takes a blast in the solar plexus that propels him most of the way to the far door*

Marc: I thought we agreed you would do what is best for Tamaran, little brother! You will marry the Schlurch!

-

Kim: Let's hurry! I couldn't figure out how to use the bathrooms here!

Max: We are not having any accidents in the Ship! You get me?

Nathaniel: *To Marc* ... I'm glad you'll be staying with us for a long time and...not getting married.

Marc: Yes. The next time, I shall choose my own husband. Who is to know? Perhaps there is a groom for me on Earth.

[wordsandrobots]

Wishing on Space Hardware: Trivia and the cutting room floor

Having finished the single longest writing project I've ever done, I find myself with a number of bits and pieces left over.

To be fair, I also invite you to contribute to the pile by letting me know if there are any extra scenes you'd like to see based on my truly excessive amount of Iron-Blooded Orphans fanfic. The ask box is open for that and anything else you'd like to prompt me to write about.

However, there remains a bunch of stuff that never made it into the final story and a lot of little details I feel are worth commenting on. So as I luxuriate in not having to spend the week editing chapters any more, I thought I'd share a couple of quick lists regarding the process and what got cut out of it. For posterity, at least.

Spoilers for the fics, obviously, and since they're post-canon, spoilers for IBO as well (go watch it if you have not, it is very, very good, hence the 656,000 words I wrote as a direct consequence [not counting the essays. Jeepers, I'll have to tot it all up some day and get the grand total).

Ahem. Anyway. Trivia!

First up, I must publicly credit penitence_road (on Tumblr as @stillness-in-green)’s excellent IBO fics for inspiring one of the major threads in WoSH (I've mentioned this in author notes but the debt cannot be overstated). The phrase 'Almiria's Adolescent Apocalypse' lodged in my brain and became a mission statement. I did try to steer in a completely different direction regarding the specifics (hence why Todo is very much not a part of the core gang), but the main thrust was all about taking that description and seeing how I could flesh it out. (Go read these fics, my goodness.)

Second, there are, of course, mythology gags referencing the wider Gundam franchise sprinkled liberally throughout. Some I've already called out in author notes, but I believe managed to reference Gundam 79, Zeta Gundam, Gundam ZZ, Char's Counterattack, Gundam Wing, Turn A Gundam, Gundam SEED, Gundam 00, and Reconguista in G in more or less explicit ways. See if you can spot them all!

I named Skoll and Hati with specific reference to their roles in the Poetic Eda. That is, I thought of them as 'the moon-hunter Gundam' and 'the sun-killed Schwalbe', respectively, in reference to their rolls harassing the Arianrhod Fleet (formally the Outer Lunar Orbit Joint Fleet) and destroying the Ahab reactor factory. But also they reflect their pilots' temperaments, with Skoll 'the mocker' being flown by Embi and Hati 'the hater' by Lin.

Spaceships Baldr and the Váli were named in a similar fashion, for their connections to Ragnarök (Váli is Vidar's brother, another of the gods who survive the final battle), and I chose to describe the finale as 'Ragnarök' in the first place because in the sagas, it represents a renewal of the world, rather than a complete end. Quite apart from the Norse influence on Gjallarhorn's whole deal, the cyclical nature dovetailed nicely with what I was trying to do with the story.

I had a very near miss with Skoll in that I wrote it as being based on ASW-G-15 Eligos, named after a demon that took the form of a handsome knight who can see the future. Some months later, the IBO-G app would reveal ASW-G-16 Zepar, the very next Gundam in the sequence, whose namesake's appearance as a red-garbed soldier seems to have been muddled with Eligos in some of the sources I checked. I am really quite relieved I didn't have to rework anything there, but it was close!

Visually, the deconstructed Char-clone that is Almiria's gang channel aspects of other iterations of the trope, with Asher obviously replicating Montag, Embi settling vaguely in the region of Quattro (that is, a more civilian-mode masked man), and Almira assaying McGillis in a way that probably lands not a millions miles from Rau. But I was primarily thinking of Relena's Sanc Kingdom outfit for her, so the 'general's' coat is a lot fancier.

The media-savvy ally to Victor Handa in Revolution for Beginners... is the same cameraman who filmed Kudelia's pivotal broadcast at the conclusion of Season 1's Dort arc. Those events seemed like they would have consequences for the journalists involved and in Hajime's case, that involved being swayed fully over to the workers' movement.

I invented Alessio as a character to counter-balance Iverson and ensure I had some non-villainous non-binary rep. That I picked the stoutest background character model I could find was not unrelated to this, though it's also an *interesting* model, especially coupled to the ones around him/them in the big group shot.

Doc Chaifin, meanwhile, just sort of happened. Sometimes characters do that.

I wrote a significant chunk of the sex scene (well, post-sex scene) in To Catch a Falling Star while sitting in a car park, waiting for my partner to come back from an appointment. This was mainly because the fic was absolutely consuming my brain and I'd discovered the joys of using a mobile phone to write notes (I put off getting a smart phone for a long, long time).

With respect to the Calamity War recording segments of Eugene Sevenstark and the Hesperus Treasure, my working head-canon is that Agnika Kaieru had a science/engineering background. Or, well, I think he moved in a social circle full of scientists and engineers before getting started on the war effort. I also have this notion that his parents at least were part of the corporate class, distinct from the aristocratic class from which people like the Bauduins and Fareeds emerged. But I never sat down to work it all out in full, as that wasn't required for the story.

Regarding Hesperus, I kind of fudged a lot to get the story to work. I'd sort of assumed Radonitsa Colony was a post-War construct rather than something pre-existing, which isn't really supported by the Urdr Hunt game. So the idea of it being a composite of different space platforms bolted around a space elevator terminal is perhaps a bit of a stretch. I still like it though, the basic concept of doing archaeology on space stations.

There's a lot of stuff I did in the moment, to get an individual fic to work, that I was later able to basically repurpose as long-term plot-points. I didn't actually intend for the 'There are three things you need to know to understand what comes next' bit to set up the salvager ship in the finale, or the pluma in Let Sleeping Angels Lie to set-up for what the McGillis faction would do with the leftovers of Season 2's events. But having those things set up gave me some wonderful 'ah ha' moments as I marshalled the overall plot. If nothing else, I got quite a rush out of realising both Gaelio's weaponised wheelchair and the beach house's lethal defences were there to use.

...try not to think too hard about how excited I got figuring out a convoluted assassination method. I'm certainly going to try not to.

The plot really kicked into gear for me with The Ares Affair. Up to then, I'd been coasting on character interactions and fix-its. But then all the consequences suddenly coalesced in my brain and I went, 'oh, this is what we're doing, is it?'

In addition to the playlists I've already put up, grown-up!Almiria's theme is Bach's Polonaise in G Minor on the harpsichord because it is *precisely* what you'd get if you pitched Rustal Elion's theme higher and more playful.

I still have no proper explanation for why A New England stuck in my head so hard when I was writing th first few fics. But I'm glad it did because it gave me a killer series title, if I do say so myself.

I tried extremely hard to make sure everyone in the anime cast got some kind of moment in the spotlight or at least a mention. Think I did a pretty good job on that front, overall.

And to wrap up on that point, yes, the narrator who occasionally addresses you directly is a character from the show. I'd be terribly interested to hear if any of you've worked out who. (It might not be strictly guessable, since there isn't anything gesturing at it per se; I just imagined it being their voice and it kind of fits, thematically.)

Now let's open the door to the cutting room!

The big one is that when I originally planned out the plot of Revolution for Beginners and Polyamory for Dumbasses, a key part of the uprising in the Dort Colonies was going to be the hackers allied with Ride knocking out the nearby Ariadne beacons in order to blind Earth to what was happening. Gjallarhorn would then have analysed the computer virus they used, and that would have been the basis for them messing about with the Network in the final stretch of fics. In the end, there simply wasn't enough room to fit any more threads into that fic and the more I thought it over, the more I decided this would be weighting the balance of power wrong. It'd be too much of a flat-out win for the colonists. Joshua's appearance on Ariadne One -- which had been intended to set things up for the beacon-hacking -- remained, just recontextualised as a clue to who was responsible for the attack in Frozen Sunlight, and a small bit of character development for this OC. I repurposed the remainder of this plot as a way to tie Ride's arc into Almiria's (she taps him for the hacking resources as a result of them messing with Ariadne One's sensors instead) and made 'Höðr' an entirely Gjallarhorn project.

The delay to the release of the Urdr Hunt mobile game drastically changed the opening to arc 4 and had knock-on effects for how the grand finale worked. Because I thought I'd have more to work with in terms of plot and characters of the game when it came time to do the writing, I'd assumed I'd be able to work in appearances from Urdr Hunt's cast. I'd planned a much bigger pay off to the idea of Radonitsa Colony's tourist board trying to get the Martain Chairperson to visit, which was that Atra and Akatsuki would have gone alone with Eugene and Sri. The whole 'let's pretend we're here to assess the facilities on behalf of the Martian government' would have been more than a passing joke and instead been a full-on cover story, with Wistario and the his friends scrambling to put on a good show. This would, I admit, mainly have existed to set up a rather dumb gag whereby Sri and Akatsuki would have been the only ones not distracted by Nanao Narolina's everything in a room full of straight male or bisexual adults. But with the delayed release of the game, I needed a drastic rethink, hence bringing in Zaza and having the whole adventure take place with the Urdr Hunt characters off-screen (I even made it vague as to whether they were the ones running the colony, just in case I needed to swing it as someone else taking over following a tragic or failed ending). Ultimately I am very happy this happened, since I didn't especially gel with the protagonists of the game and it gave me greater opportunity to play with my beloved manga cast. But it did mean my idea of having both spin-off heroes come to the rescue at a dramatic juncture never materialised.

This proved to be single biggest alteration to my plotting for the final arc, too. Initially, the escape from Earth was going to be a lot more dramatic. For one thing, I was planning for the whole 'Yamagi gets left behind' element to happen in orbit, with Shino and Eugene actually present. Some sort of ship to ship transfer going wrong, people going adrift in space, that kind of thing. For another, I had the idea of bringing both Gundams Astaroth and Hajiroboshi into play, for a proper 'fight our way through the blockade' moment. Wistario was going to swoop to the rescue as the shuttle broke atmosphere, there'd be pursuit, and I'd wreck as many cop cars Grazes as I could get away with in some protracted chase sequence before we got to the big NOOOO moment. Yeah. But obviously without knowing Wistario's real personality or situation post-game, I didn't have enough material to work with and plans changed. For the better, I think, given the characters moments it allowed me to have and given that Wiz's character is one of my least favourite parts of IBO's extended media. But yeah. I was aiming for a proper team-up, the kind where you could have different people's theme music kicking in as they swooped into view, and it was not to be.

History of a Catastrophe. Oh boy. As I noted at the time, this one got away from me a lot in terms of length. I ended up cutting three complete scenes in an effort to contain the sprawl. The first to go was one focused on Ville Klaassen, (main?) villain of the Moon Steel manga, who I'd already had cameo in Of Obsessions and Erotemes. I wanted to gesture more towards a conclusion for the manga's story, extending from what I'd laid down previously, but ultimately that was too low a priority to justify adding to the word count, so out it went. Given the alternating structure of this fic (it switches between what is broadly 'Julieta's strand' and 'Almiria's strand), that meant cutting a later scene as well and I opted to ditch a brief cutaway to Embi, mainly because it just repeated stuff I'd already establish in A Handful of Rusted Petals. And possibly because of this cut, or because I'd just mucked up the ordering at some point, I also had to get rid of a scene between two of Gjallarhorn's high command that, while cute from an office politics point of view, didn't really contribute much else.

Actually, since these are all quite short, I might as well put them in here so you can see what you weren't missing!

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P.D. 327 – In the middle of entirely unrelated events; Gjallarhorn branch office, Prague

“I'm sorry, is this a bad time?”

Ville Klaassen pushes his briefcase and hat across the desk, out of sight of the terminal screen. “Not at all. I'm just in the middle of preparing for a business trip.”

The Police Bureau officer's eyebrow twitches. “Hopefully this shouldn't take up much of your time. I'm calling regarding two cases you worked on in the aftermath of the McGillis Fareed Incident.”

That explains the highly-secured channel, which demanded Ville confirm he was alone before it would establish an encrypted link. “Oh yes?”

“I'm specifically referring to events at Research Station AD-5, and the investigation into the Fareed Charitable School.”

“The Alaya-Vijnana research? Of course.” The murdered scientists, the destroyed data – evidence of a zealot's self-mutilation turned to so much ash and broken glass. “What of it?”

“This is your official notification that information on these cases has been deemed deleterious to the public good and will henceforth be restricted to category five clearance.”

Interesting. The research Ville can understand, but a school –? Oh, that's right. Those rumours concerning Lord Iznario's predilections. “I was only peripheral to the second investigation. I wouldn't even have been on the ground for the first, had internal affairs not been so short-handed.”

Clearly the exact details of the involvement are irrelevant. “Please sign the forms now being sent to your inbox to confirm you have received this notification. Since you only hold level four clearance, you are not permitted to discuss the indicated cases unless ordered to do so by a superior with level five clearance or above. I am additionally required to run a remote-access search on your Gjallarhorn-issue devices to purge any data pertaining to these cases.”

“Remote access?” Ville asks, a drop of sweat forming at the top of his spine and seeming to fall right the way down it. “Now?”

“The scan must be run as soon as is viable.” There is an overly-deliberate pause. “Do you object?”

Such a rookie error. Ville curses himself inwardly. “Naturally not.” He casts a glance at the pad on the other side of his desk, still displaying the surveillance feed from this morning. “Will you need to scan my personal devices as well?”

“I am not authorised to do so, since under level four clearance, you will not have been permitted to take personal copies of relevant information.”

“Forgive me, I merely wished to be certain.” Opening the security menu on the terminal, he checks his settings. Shouldn't be too much of a risk since he isn't amateur enough to conduct his outside dealings using work equipment. “Please go ahead.”

“Thank you,” says the officer once the progress bar has run its course. “No excisions required.”

“I try to keep things tidy.”

“Please sign the forms promptly. Good day.”

Doing as instructed, Ville wonders what will become of the staff and 'students' of the school. They must surely know plenty of juicy details that would be deleterious to Gjallarhorn's good name… on any other day, he'd consider stretching feelers in that direction, just to see what he might find…

The pad twitters. Fresh footage of two people on a street corner, a skinny blonde with a crutch beside a big, white-haired man, both huddled in cheap anoraks.

Ville snarls, grabbing his hat and dialling furiously. “Nanao,” he snaps as soon as the comm connects, “the Warren boy and his employer's pet thug are right outside the building! I cannot have them causing a scene here. Where the hell are you?”

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P.D. 327 – More than two years after Tekkadan's last battle; Chryse, Mars

First time Embi takes Fly-Away, he doesn't stop giggling for four hours.

He floats on a cloud of painlessness, the ghosts and memories lost somewhere way below him as the vapour swirls happily inside his head. His brother is dead. He's constantly surrounded by the people Elgar died for. And right now, he doesn't care. About any of it! It feels so good!

Crashing afterwards sucks. Not getting the shakes bad. It just stinks to be stuck with all the usual feelings. He has fucked-up nightmares about carrying Elgar through the desert, a dead weight clinging tight to his back. Barely gets through the day without starting a fight. Tries to punch Hirume for asking what's wrong.

The solution is obvious. Embi gets some more Fly-Away and the second time is even better.

So it becomes a pattern. Get the money to buy what he needs to make things a little less shit for a while. Burn through that. Rinse. Repeat.

Everyone keeps telling him he needs to find something to live for, right? He guesses this is it.

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P.D. 329 – Some time later; a private dining room at The Blue Horn, Vingolf

The Director General of the Inspection Bureau sniffs, as he is wont to do whenever he wishes to delay speaking. “Lord Iznario's death is being ruled misadventure. As… anticipated.”

The Regulatory Chief of Staff eyes him from across the table, fingernails digging ever so slightly into the white cloth laid between them. “Indeed it is.”

There is a heavy pause, the kind filled with common understandings that cannot be said aloud.

“You don't think…”

“I wouldn't know.” The Chief of Staff adjusts her forks. “That falls in your purview, not mine.”

“The Police Bureau is… not my bag either. Unless there's evidence of misdemeanour, the investigation is beyond our scope.”

“Is there? Evidence?”

The Director General fiddles with the cuffs of his tunic. “Seems the old man just muddled his tablets and didn't care about watching his diet.”

“The Seven Stars always thought they were above mere mortals.”

“Yes. Yes…”

Another, heavily pause.

“Convenient, at least,” concludes the Chief of Staff. “One less remnant of the old order, hanging around.”

The Director General coughs. “You know I'll be retiring in the new year? Lord – I mean, Commander Elion has some up-and-coming young fellow picked out to replace me.”

“I heard. Is he up to the job?”

“Mm. Probably. Didn't… get much say in the decision.”

“How democratic.”

“Hm.”

A waiter glides into the third silence, bowing obsequiously. “Madam, sir? Your entrées.”

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As I said, nothing especially mind-blowing. I also had a slightly different opening to the segment featuring the pluma, which I again cut for length, but that I rather liked, as a conceit.

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Can a machine remember?

It is possible for a machine to record. Pluma ASW-A-H-011_sub:27 can access data on its previous combat deployments at any time, to support its tactical algorithms. It can return the dimensions of the space freighter it disabled on its last activation, the topography of the desert it traversed during the battle before that, or images of the colossal detonation that led to it becoming buried for ERROR: UNABLE_TO_SYNC years.

But that is not remembering as you would understand it. Memory is imperfect, riddled with loss of clarity and skewed by emotional prejudice. A machine records raw, uncaring facts, free from conscious understanding of why they occur. Even if it performs tasks based on the patterns it detects, even if that performance resembles intelligence, it is most likely nothing more than a cascade of hollow logic, as insensible to wider context as a pebble dropping into the sea.

These, then, are the facts.

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On the subject of aborted starts, here is something I sketched for a putative 'Wistario segment' of the Arc 4 opening story, which as discussed never materialised:

Wisterio Afam is having a bad day. That is to say, he's not having a good day. In the grand scheme of things it probably doesn't count as truly terrible given that nothing is presently on fire and as far as he knows the colony isn't being attacked right this minute. He personally is being assailed from all sides but that largely seems to be on the scale of a cosmic joke whereby all his carefully laid plans are coming apart at the stitching.

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And finally, just because I thought it was clever at the time, a reprise segment from Love, Death and Cannoli that I again cut for length, but that would have repeated the echoing memory trick from To Catch a Falling Star chapter 11, with Yamagi recalling lines of dialogue with Shino that were (mostly) from my fics rather than the anime:

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Suns turn into black holes if they get too big and die. So it is with his feelings. Gravitationally crushing.

I don't want perfect. I want you.

What a dumb thing to say.

(There's something wrong with me.)

But isn't it better to be wrong together than apart?

Do you think if we're both worrying it's our fault, that's a sign of something?

At least there are similarities in how they're screwed up, for whatever comfort that is.

(You're here and you're – you're mine.)

And Yamagi will hold on with hands and teeth and everything he's got.

Jeez, you're so uptight sometimes.

He can be fierce too, if it's necessary.

(Of course I want to be out there with you.)

Right to the very end.

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I've a few more partial scenes in my planning document, but they're mostly things I reworked for the actual posted versions, rather than cutting entirely. Stuff like some of the flashbacks Shino has to his pre-Tekkadan days were originally in different places and the conversation between Yamagi and Ordsley wound up requiring a lot of changes as the story developed. I think that about covers all the major deviations from my original outline.

Oh, except for Gundam Paimon. I swear I meant to figure out what to do with that thing, eventually, but in the end it just remained hanging on the wall. Ah well.