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slater-baby · 4 months ago

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im a mess right now😞my dog just died…could you please write some comfort?

my dog had a heart disease but he was doing fine…but today he started throwing up blood…he got to the vet but it was too late…his little lungs were filled with blood….im devastated. i went to see his body and he looked like he suffered so much…the vet tried to bring him back but he didn’t….

tomorrow he’s going to be cremated 😞

hello, hon, I am so sorry to hear that your dog passed away <3 I'm sure your dog was loved just as much as family, and I'm sure he took that love with him when he passed. Here's some comfort for you ❤️ sending so much love and hope in your direction!

**small note: I wrote comfort over fluff, so it’s emotionally heavy. Sorry if you wanted something lighter!!

Broken, Together

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!Reader

Tags: slight blood and injury, hurt/comfort, reunion, fluff, confessions, flirting, implied sexual content, implied relationship, getting together, literally just straight tension between the two of them Word Count: 5.5k

“Hah—fuck,” you groan, not even bothering to mind your volume. Birds—what few of them were left—fly wildly from the tree next to you, running away from the pain of your shivering voice.

Let them, you think, resting your tired face against the plain of rock beneath you, There’s no helping this now.

The rain falls in merciless sheets, pelting you like miniature balls of ice with every minute of this miserable downpour. The river behind you is overflowing now, running red with untreated cuts and gloomy skies, and whirls around your dragging feet with every move, swallowing you up in muck. Listlessly, Scarlet trails of blood follow your path, but you can barely feel it pouring from the gash in your stomach.

You’d given up on walking a long time ago. Compared to the pain in your side, the fracture in your ankle was nothing, but they’re both a unique agony in their own right. You’d walked on the injury long enough, stumbling through the forest with your rifle and helmet. However, one wrong footfall had sent you tumbling down a cliffside, shards of rock and rubble imprinting themselves on every broken bone in your body—and not gently, either.

That had been half an hour ago. You’d barely made it a quarter of a kilometer since.

The moss of the river bank tears into clumps within your grasp, washing away in the stream as you heave yourself up onto the bank. The scream you let out rings throughout the forest like a siren, and there was no doubt about it now: anyone who might have heard that would be coming soon enough. If they hadn’t trusted the sound the first time, they’d be running come the third.

Somewhere behind you, the war zone rages on. Dropping bombs paint the sky an eerie, smoke-shade of reddened blood. The nightscape is starless, hidden beneath a layer of dust and grime that not even the most powerful of telescopes could have seen through, but you look anyway.

Uselessly, you flop onto your back atop the river, unable to contain the tears of pain that leave you with the movement.

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself once more, shakily setting your hand atop your bleeding cut. The treetops dance above you, swaying with every gust of the wind. It’s a gentle movement. Serene, almost.

It’s not a bad place, you think idly, Wouldn’t mind staying here for a bit…or forever, at that.

Your lower body floats in the stream water. The rain washes away the dirt on your face. The searing pain of your injuries continue, but for the first time in days, you manage to take in a single, clean breath.

No one was coming for you. Your teammates had forgotten you—not that you blame them. If anything, you should be the sorry one. When the bombs had dropped and the five of you had been tossed in different directions, they were hardly the first thing on your mind—that’s not to say they were the last, however. Though, to claim that you’d even thought of them within the last twenty-four hours would be a stark lie. No, you were much too focused on your own dripping blood to do anything more than sit in the darkness and lick your wounds.

You sigh, trying desperately to find a star between criss-crossing tree branches, but your mind ranges on.

You didn’t come for them.

So they wouldn’t come for you.

If they aren’t already dead, that is, your mind helpfully supplies, Forty-eight hours alone, wandering through a war zone without backup and with no ammo reserves to speak of…better men had died from less.

Your fingers slip when another swathe of blood pours from the wound.

Well, at the very least, if they were well and truly gone, you’d probably be joining them soon, you smirk at the thought, Apologies can be saved for then…

The idea should have been a grim one, something that made your skin crawl and tears spring to your eyes. Yet, you find that it does the exact opposite. Instead, it falls over you like a worn blanket, painting yellow strings of warmth up your exhausted skin. An easy smile overcomes your face, and with little more to spare, you let your eyes fall closed, imaginary clouds swirling in the mass of darkness. Like that, you fade into the grass and rocks, fall away into the clutches of the earth underneath you, until it’s impossible to discern where the moss begins and where your camouflaged body ends.

Every breath is a trembling affliction, some sort of well-endured soreness. And for what seems like hours, you relish in the idea that soon enough, this will all be over. Soon enough, you really will fall back into the place you come from, back into the cradle of the distant star your very atoms were born inside of.

The moss is like a pillow.

The rocks feel like home.

The sky hangs overhead like a mobile, and with it, everything spins…

…and spins…

Until it doesn’t.

A loud snap resounds from the edge of the riverbank, and before you know it, something solid rams itself against your shoulder, falling headfirst into the stream at your feet. All at once, what feels like five hundred pounds of weight crushes down on top of you, replacing your comfortable end with a set of broken ribs instead.

“Fuck—,” you scream, automatically shocking into action despite the agony curling in your stomach. Uselessly, you try to push yourself back up the bank, but whatever—or whoever—just interrupted your reverie has a different plan.

A set of shaking hands grapple at your clothes, protruding from the water like a leering monster. They thrash though the waves, yanking you back down the rocky bay. You shriek as they pull your body into the water, nearly shoving you beneath the surface as they stagger to their feet. The shadow of them—the enormous, looming ink of it—consumes you when they emerge, haphazardly digging their claws into the collar of your uniform.

“Don’t—” they pant urgently, like they’d been suffocating mere seconds before, “Don’t you dare fucking move, you hear me?”

Flecks of water and spit rain down on you with his every word. Through the haze of your pain, you note that his voice is hollow and grisly, like he’d been choking up blood for hours before he came. With wide eyes, you clutch at his meaty forearms, trying to shove him away.

“Don’t fucking move!” He shouts again, jostling your body in his grip as he stumbles over his own two feet, “One more move, and I swear—swear to god, I’ll blow your fuckin’ brains out.”

Something cold and wet is shoved up against your forehead. The barrel of the gun shakes with the force of his shivering. Between words, white plumes of breath fan over your face, and just barely, you can make out the shine of his irises through the fog of night.

“Woah—woah,” you tremble, limping lifting your hands in surrender, “I’m—I’m unarmed. Swear to god. I’m…fuck, I’m dying anyway. Couldn’t—couldn’t hurt you even if I tried…Swear it.”

For a few seconds, only the stunted sound of your shared breaths taints the air.

“I swear,” you whisper, like you still had anything left to plead for.

The man above you pauses, breathing deeply, and for a second, you take in the look of him. His face is…

Well, it’s a mess, to put it lightly. He’s covered in blood—watery rivulets of it—from bones to teeth, gathering in the slits of his gums. His lips are blue and split down the middle, front teeth broken crudely. His hair is matted with sweat and dirt, and mottled wounds cover his hollowed cheekbones. And his eyes are…Well, you can’t even see them. They’re swollen shut almost completely, a shade of purple so dark you might have mistaken it for black. Judging by the way his muscles contort around his words, he’s feeling every ounce of the violence inscribed upon his face.

“Just let me go,” you ask him gently, “Let me go, and—and I swear I won’t follow you. The allied FOB, it’s—” you point over his shoulder into the tree line, “It’s back that way…at least, I think. Whatever country you’re f-from, they’ll take care of you.”

The longer you continue speaking, the more skeptical the man becomes. Though, ‘skeptical’ might be the wrong word to describe it. If anything, he seems…confused. Shakily, he lowers the barrel from your forehead, and the purple skin around his eyes draws tight for a split second, almost as if he were trying to squint at your face.

“Rogue?” His voice is gentler this time, softer, “Rogue…is that you?”

At the sound of your callsign, your blood runs cold, brain shocking back to awareness.

“How—” you grab onto his forearm, ready to fight for your peaceful death if it comes down to it, “How do you know my name…”

A sharp breath escapes him, and all of a sudden, he’s holstering his gun, grabbing you under the arms to haul you up. His broken lips curve into a hazy smile.

“‘Cause—’cause it’s me, Rogue!” he huffs, a shivering laugh following the noise, “It’s me, Ghost.”

At that, you force your eyes to open impossibly wider. Puzzled, you squint at his ravaged face, fingers tightening around his wrist.

“Ghost?” You furrow your brows, “You’re not—you’re not Ghost. Ghost doesn’t show his…”

“Rogue, just—just look.”

He reaches down towards his belt, haphazardly sinking to his knees in the muck when your weight becomes too much for him to support. Like that, both of you fall back into the freezing lap of the stream, an odd peace overcoming you. It takes him a minute to find it. However, soon enough, he pulls a sheet of sopping, black fabric from under the surface, shakily holding it up in front of his face.

There, against a muddy background, stands that familiar white skull. It’s chipped around the edges and somewhat sad looking, what with the water. Yet, there’s no denying it. That’s Ghost’s mask, the same one you stared at over a hand of playing cards or over a couple drinks at the bar. Instantly, his hands hardly feel like chains around your wrists anymore.

“Ghost?” You huff, sitting up with more strength than you can remember having in the past forty-eight hours.

The man—Ghost—can’t contain the smile that overcomes him, not even when you’re sure the pain of it must be blinding.

“Yeah,” he answers happily.

“Ghost!”

Without even thinking, you grab him around the strap of his vest, yanking him into a tight hug. The water pushes in between your bodies, in between your beating hearts, and yet, his warmth sustains you. It survives you. You, with your cold hands and trembling body. Him, with his warm chest and blue lips.

“Holy shit,” you laugh into the crook of his shoulder, feeling more alive than you have in days, “How did you—Fuck, where have you been? Are you hurt? How are you?”

“Fuckin’ better now that I found you, love,” he chuckles, locking his arms around your waist. You can feel him resting his chin against your shoulder, stubble scraping over your cheek. It’s weirdly close, to feel him like this—to feel his arms, chest, cheek, and smile bleeding life back into your body after you’d gone so long without it.

“God, me too,” you exhale, relaxing inside of his grasp. You’d never considered it before, but something inside of the way that he holds you—like he’d sincerely missed you all these hours—is so comforting you can’t even begin to describe it. No, you can only melt into it, counting every beat of his heart as they come and go against your sternum.

“You’re…” Another sharp breath; this time, worried, “You said you’re dying…?”

His arms weaken around your body, almost like he wanted to pull back and look at you, but you don’t let him. Instead, you hook your arm around the back of his neck, pressing him into your shoulder. Some part of you—small and nagging—doesn’t want even an inch to separate you any longer.

“I—I don’t know,” you shake your head stupidly, some dumb smile on your face, “I guess…I thought I was. It definitely felt like it. But I’m not so sure anymore. God, now that you’re here, I…”

Your words trail off, their meaning too heavy for you to shoulder alone. Unconsciously, your fingers tangle in the hairs at the base of his neck, and you squeeze them lovingly, chest stuttering with a sort of happiness you never thought you’d feel again.

Unwillingly, you can feel as tears gather in your eyes. They burn against your freezing cheeks when they fall.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Ghost,” you whisper, voice trailing off into a small cry.

He doesn’t say anything—he can’t. The only response to your words is the way that his muscles tighten, the way that his chest rises and falls rapidly when he pulls you in all the harder, holding you steadfast against his thrumming pulse point.

“Me too, love,” he rasps, voice choked, “Me too.”

For a minute, it all fades all. From the fires raging in the distance, to the death you thought was waiting so near, they all fall limply in the face of your embrace—in the face of the emotions coursing through you.

Maybe you wouldn’t die here.

You didn’t want to die here.

Not anymore.

Not now that you have him.

Not anymore.

“Fuck,” you pull back with a sniffle, crudely wiping snot away from your face. You reach out with your dirty hands, gently cupping his swollen cheeks. He winces at even the smallest touch, instinctually grabbing your wrist to lighten your touch.

“Where have you been?” You ask with a grimace, looking at his battered body, “Are you dying?”

“No,” he chuckles, but it cuts off into a small grunt. He drops his face, tucking the mask under his belt, before reaching up a finger to play at the cut of his split lips.

“Hope not,” he huffs gleefully, lifting his face into the light for you to look at, “Probably got a pretty good concussion going on. Head sure fuckin’ feels like it. But…I think m’alright.”

You nod, pulling your hand away from his cheek to run it through his buzzed hair, checking for cuts along his scalp.

“You don’t look like it,” you joke, “I mean, I’ve never seen your face before, but…I don’t think it’s supposed to look like that.”

At that, Simon laughs heartily, not even trying to resist the grin on his pale lips any longer.

“Yeah, that,” he sighs, running a hand over his jaw, “After the first fire run, I ran into the tree line. Wasn’t much cover anywhere else, so I figured that was the best shot at survival—and I wasn’t wrong. Only problem was that I was running in the wrong direction,�� a grim countenance overcomes him for a minute, “Ran East for just a minute too long, accidentally ran straight through their bloody lines. For what it’s worth, the bastards didn’t notice me for a few hours…but, once they did…”

He sighs, rolling his eyes—like this were all just some stupid inconvenience for him instead of a life-threatening injury. You resist a laugh. Simon was like that, always confident in himself and his abilities, even when one simple mistake could prove so deadly.

“Some prick from Kortac thought it’d be a right laugh to get a look under the mask…paid for it with his life. But, not after he banged me up good,” he continues, “He tried to smash a rock over m’head, but couldn’t manage it, so he brought my head to the rock instead. That was yesterday. The swelling’s flared up pretty bad, and when I tried to put the mask on, the faceplate felt about two sizes too small…”

He huffs, looking down at his sodden mask.

“Figured I’d rough it for the night,” Simon chuckles, “Hasn’t been too bad. Mask woulda gotten in the way, anyway. M’eyes are so swollen I can barely fucking see…Didn’t even know you were there ‘till I tripped right over you.”

He looks down at your body and at the swirls of red blood cascading through the ripples around you.

“Sorry about that, by the way,” he breathes, reaching down to idly put pressure on your seeping wound.

“It’s alright,” you grit, hurriedly grabbing a hold of his shirt at the sudden sensation, “Better—than the fucking stab wound, I’ll tell you that…Though, you could do to lose a little weight, LT. Swear to god you almost cracked a rib when you fell on me like that.”

“Well,” he snarks, “Noted, love. Guess I won’t be on the cover of Vogue anytime soon, anyway. Not with a face like this, at least.”

“Exactly,” you giggle, but it quickly turns into a pained gasp when his fingers pull the two sides of your flesh back together. You writhe in the water, curling into his chest in some vain attempt at hiding yourself from the pain.

“You good?” He asks absently, rubbing over your stomach without hardly batting an eye at the way you cling onto him.

“I’ve been better,” you mewl, eyes wrenched shut, “Still—still not sure I’ll ever do better, though…”

“Don’t say that—”

“Ghost—”

“I said, don’t say that,” he scowls (or, well, as much as he can with his bruised façade), “Not yet, at least. I won’t let you.”

For a moment, all you can do is sit there against his chest, looking at where the scant moonlight phases through the colors of his blonde stubble. Although his face isn’t a pretty sight at the moment, you can’t help but memorize it, running your eyes over his each and every detail, like you were looking at him for the first time all over again.

“You promise?” You ask hesitantly, grabbing onto the back of his collar.

“I promise,” he answers without a second thought.

At that, you take in a low breath, before nodding in response. The hand against your stomach tightens for a beat—a token of reassurance—before he’s shifting on his knees.

“Here,” he huffs, getting his feet underneath himself, “Over that hill, you see it? There’s an overhang. Might give us a bit o’ cover from the rain.”

“Okay,” you follow listlessly, hooking your arm around his neck. However, just when you begin to come to your feet, the crackling bones in your ankle <em>scream</em> in protest. Limply, you fall against him.

“Fuck,” you grunt, looking down at where your feet disappear in the water, “Stupid legs…”

“Can you walk?” He huffs, stumbling over his own two feet. It nearly sends the both of you tumbling back into the water. Mentally, you chuckle at the pitiful image the two of you must make.

Maybe that concussion was worse than he was letting on, you raise your brows, staring at his grisly face.

“Far enough,” you reply instead of speaking your mind, carefully curling your hand around his back. Although your strength is marginal, even just the suggestion of your touch seems to straighten him up—enough to get onto the bank of the stream, at the very least.

“Good, ‘cause—” Simon’s voice peaks on your first step, a deep, hollow noise escaping him, “‘Cause once we’re there, m’not sure how much longer I can—bloody stand.”

“Right—back at you...” You grit, wrenching your eyes shut with another blistering step.

Fire-starters were a fickle thing, you’d learned.

Especially in the rain.

“Damnnit,” you curse, scowling down at fingers once more. The rain had done a number on Simon’s dwindling supplies, and none but a single fire starter remained. Good thing he was a heavy smoker, otherwise you’d have to light this fire caveman-style.

Yeah, you take a deep breath in, Maybe you could lay off all the warnings about lung cancer…it all seems like a trivial fucking problem in the face of this.

“Here,” Simon weakly shuffles closer, jacket halfway down his arms.

He pries the lighter out of your hands, flicking his thumb across the wheel. Without further persuasion, the flame blinks to life, a stark burn against your frozen skin.

“Fuck—!” Simon’s arm jerks, and he hurriedly covers his eyes, nearly dropping the lighter against the ground.

“Woah—you okay?” You yank the lighter out of his hand, hurriedly nestling the sparks against the kindling. It goes up in flames (thankfully) hardly a second later.

“Yeah, s’just—” he furiously rubs over his eyes with the palms of his hands, shoulders tight in agony, “The light is just…This—fucking headache won’t go away…”

“Ghost,” you shuffle closer to him, wrapping your arm around his shoulder, “Maybe you should lay down for a minute. I’ll—I’ll finish setting everything up, and we can figure things out in the morning.”

“No—no, Rogue, I won’t fuckin’ leave you by yourself,” he rakes a hand through his hair, under-eyes blackened and tired, “You’re hurt, too. That cut needs cleaned and dressing—and don’t you dare fuckin’ tell me otherwise.”

At that, you snap your mouth shut, swallowing the very words he’d just predicted. His eyes are woefully deadpan beneath all the swelling.

Gotcha.

“Ghost, you’re just as bad,” you come closer, holding his shoulders.

“Don’t say that,” he pulls your hand off of his shoulder, clutching it in front of his chest, “Don’t compromise yourself for me just because of a stupid little—”

“I’m not compromising myself—”

“I said no, okay? So just—”

“Ghost, your face is fucking purple right now—”

“And that’s okay so long as I know you’ll make it through the fucking night!” He whisper-yells, voice strained, like even the act of talking were painful in and of itself, “This headache can last as long as I know that you’ll last, okay, love? You get what I’m saying? Do you understand now?”

With every word that he speaks, his fingers curl tighter and tighter around your own, until you’re sure the shaking in your frame is from the blistering way he melds your skin and not the frigid winds whipping up your back. Unbidden, you’re speechless, and eventually, his voice dwindles into nothing. However, his hold remains.

“Ghost…” you begin, but you don’t know how to continue. His breath materializes like falling snowflakes between the two of you, and from his height, he curls over you closer.

“You remember what I said back then? That night at the bar?” He leans his face down, forcing you to meet his eye.

Your breath hitches at the mention, a glowing heat gathering in your cheeks. You barely have the bravery to raise your lashes to look at him, but when you do, he remains the same, bloodied man that he’d always been.

“I’m done letting you think that you’re unimportant, Rogue,” he whispers, his very words woven into the plains of your skin, “Not to me. Not to any of us. I’m done. Do you hear me?”

Shakily, you nod your head, looking down at your intertwined hands. Something inside of you—small and fragile—revels in the heat of his skin, and yet, another part of you shudders in the shadow of it. The cast of its unfamiliarity. The way that he touches you. The way that he speaks to you. The thoughts you know he has of you…and your own inability to muster your bravery.

“Let me take care of you. For once,” he continues, pleading.

Briskly, you swallow, closing your eyes. His scent wraps around you like a blanket, and with shivers running up your spine, you submit to the uncertainty of it. To a man whose face you’d never seen before…to a man whose lips you hardly remember the taste of.

Unwittingly, your brain thinks back on that night in the bar.

Kentucky bourbon.

Slurred dialogue.

Linen sheets.

Dripping sweat.

The truth of him—one that you didn’t even know had existed…

God, you remember the way he tastes. In the recesses of your drunken memories…

Lime and hops. Stringent alcohol and cigarette smoke. Victory, virility, vitality and all of their counterparts. It was wasted on you. Or, at least, you thought it had been. Ghost, on the other hand, had never given up quite so easily.

“Simon,” you say for the first time in months—for the first time since that night. His chest stills against you.

“Then,” you press your hand to his sternum; it looks inconsequential against the mass of him, “Let’s do it together. Take care of each other, I mean. Can we do that?”

You look up at him from where you sit, shadowed beneath everything that he is. Through the darkness, you can see the way his jaw grinds for a few seconds, before he gives in.

“Only if you let me make the first move,” he huffs, a small smile overcoming his lips.

You can only scoff, eyes dropping back onto the ground between your legs. Blood rushes to your face, and your fingers fidget against his chest.

“Don’t you always do that?” You quip under your breath.

“Well,” he shuffles closer, gently grabbing your shoulder, “You tell me, love. Was that night in the bar a one-off or…?”

“Simon,” you keel forward with an embarrassed laugh, looking over his shoulder instead of his face, “You—you can’t just say things like that…”

“Why?” he turns his head, lips brushing against your cheekbone. His fingers fumble at your collar, painting shivers into your being with every brush of your touching skin. The sound of the zipper is stark when he begins to edge it downwards, “Afraid you might like ‘em?”

At that, you don’t even have the strength to make a joke. No, you hook your arms around his neck, placing your chin on his shoulder while he slowly opens your jacket.

“You don’t have to say anything,” this time, he presses his cheek into yours; it’s so dreadfully, beautifully warm, “But I know you’ll listen.”

His words are like a balm, distracting you even when his fingers begin to pluck at the hem of your shirt.

“Can I push it up?” He asks you gently, “Just enough to clean the cut. I won’t look if you don’t want me to. I swear.”

“Why?” You mumble, hiding your face in the crook of his shoulder like that might give you more bravery, “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before…”

“Trust me, love, I remember,” he shifts on his knees, nose brushing your hair, “But I know how you get about that stuff…All delicate ’n whatnot.”

“M’not delicate,” you giggle, even as something cold and wet presses into your bloodied stomach.

“You’re not,” he replies mindlessly, “But you felt that way. That night.”

That night.

Your skin bristles viscously at the thought, but even more viciously at the feeling of his fingers holding your wound closed. Instead of focusing on the pain, you try desperately to lose yourself in the memory of it, of how his bare skin had felt against yours that night. He doesn’t see it, but you can’t help but smile dreamily at the thought of it.

That night.

God, that night.

You were younger than him. Callow, too. Half the time you felt like some bloodless kid standing next to the rest of them. Unintelligent. Unimportant. The charity case that somehow made it to the big leagues.

Of course you’d always had eyes for Ghost—who wouldn’t—even before he’d dropped the pretenses and admitted that he thought of you as friends. You still remember the night he’d finally told you. You’d nearly drove yourself insane with all of the swirling thoughts that had swallowed you up when you’d laid down for bed.

After that, you felt like a teenager writing his name in the margins of her diary, in looping hearts and gel pen.

He was so far above you, and you, so beneath him. By all means, you were nothing to him.

Until that night.

Until you were in your cups, falling off of your barstool.

Until he pulled up his mask to take another drink, and you saw his smile for the very first time.

Until the boys went home and only you remained.

Until he pulled you close and told you that he thought you were beautiful—that he thought you were everything.

Until the only thing you could sense was the whiskey on his breath and the slick heat of his sweaty hips pumping back and forth between your legs.

Swallowing, you pull your fingers into his jacket, holding onto him like he might disappear into the very earth that had encompassed your tomb not an hour ago.

That night, you weren’t some small thing any longer. You weren’t some crushing high-schooler or immature teenage girl. You felt like the woman you’d finally become, the one you swore he’d made you.

If only you could’ve had the courage to look him in the eye and admit to all of it in the months that’d followed…

“I think you’re delicate,” you murmur in the swathe of his shirt, “Not back then, but now…”

You pull back, cupping his jaw. His skin and taut and thin, mangled and grisly. You can tell that the singular point of contact is agonizing to him, but he doesn’t resist it. No, he lets you hold him there, even when a wince works its way up his throat.

“Is that how I seem to you?” He asks, breathing you in.

“Simon, like this…” you follow the marks with your eyes, from his chin to his hairline, “With everything that’s happened to you…I guess, I thought you were invincible, but…”

Listlessly, your hands drop to his collarbones, plucking at a loose string on his shirt.

“But you’re fragile,” you whisper, lips brushing against his chin, “Human.”

The words are chock full of some unspoken emotion, something that had been boiling inside of you for so long, but had never quite managed to spill over. Until now.

“I guess that I…” you take a deep breath in, “I guess that I thought I couldn’t hurt you. That nothing could. And…I’m sorry for that, Simon. For thinking that of you.”

When you raise your head, he looks deep into your eyes, into the flickering shadows and dancing firelight. They burn his senses, grate on his nerves, rip out his heartstrings—and yet, he remains still. Fighting, still.

“Rogue, listen…”

He pulls his hand from underneath your shirt, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you close. When your bodies meet, when his chest becomes flush with yours, hips nestled just above yours, a warmth you’d nearly lost in that freezing stream returns to you. Everything you’d felt that night—the night when you’d finally done right by yourself and by him—comes rushing back, just as jarring as the headache that rocks his world.

“Everything out here—everything that’s happened…” he speaks, “The light, the sound, the people, this world—they hurt me…but you don’t. You never have. Never could.”

Transfixed, you push your hand into the pocket of his jacket, pulling him closer.

“I promise you, love,” he whispers, “Nothing you’ve done, nothing you’ve said has ever done that to me. You’ve a kind heart. A soft one.”

The words are raspy and low, a salve or medicine.

“Sometimes, though, I just wish you’d hurry up and give it to me,” he chuckles, though it quickly transforms into a wince.

At that, you can’t help but chuckle too, muscles tightening around his comforting embrace. Here, the world is just as peaceful, just as calm. It’s just as serene as the stream or woods, just as bright as the furthest shining stars. But unlike the rest of this world, you don’t want to leave it. Not now. Not yet.

“Then…” you swallow the emotions in your throat, “Would you mind waiting for me for just one more night?”

His chest rumbles with a hearty laugh, his big palms sliding over the curve of your back.

“Hardly,” he answers, “As long as tomorrow comes, I’ll have you. I promise.”

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bubblegum-cherry-lips · 1 year ago

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first snow ❄️

summary: the boys are not used to seeing you this excited for the first snow of the season.

prompt: day 1 - first snow (prompts from this post)

pairing: poly marauders x (gender neutral) reader

cw: none

word count: 814

One of the best feelings in the winter is waking up cozy on a weekend morning, when you don’t have to rush to work - when the world seems to move slowly, and you allow yourself to do the same.

As your eyes slowly open, eyelids still heavy with sleep, you slowly become aware of your own body, every nerve and muscle waking up. The morning light is shy as it falls into your room, and even though you miss the summer sunshine you can’t help but feel thankful for the lack of brightness in the morning. You stretch your muscles, mindful of the bodies next to you, and then pull yourself up until you’re leaning on the headboard, taking in the scene in front of you.

The man closest to you is James, lying on his stomach with his hand stretched out to where you are, fingers so close that they brush your thigh when they twitch. He’s snoring softly, and he will probably deny it when he wakes up - put you all know the truth. To his left, sharing the middle space of the bed, is Sirius, and you barely suppress the giggle when you notice a tiny bit of drool on his pillow. He’s sprawled across the majority of the bed, like a starfish, legs intertwined with James’ and his pillow placed in the crook between Remus’ arm and ribs, holding onto Remus’ hand as if his life depends on it. You’re not quite sure how comfortable that position is for Remus, because Sirius had pushed him almost to the very edge of the bed, but he seems content enough and you hope he had a good night’s rest.

You try to get up without waking any one of them, of course - but as soon as the bed shift, it’s like the alarm goes off and one by one, they start shifting. The first one, of course, being Remus

“Dove?” His voice is scratchy, eyes blinking adorably when he catches you mid step.

“Morning Rem. Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“‘S okay. What time is it?”

“Too fucking early.”

Sirius’ grumbles draw a laugh out of you, and when the boys start bickering, James’ sleepy mumblings overlapping with Sirius’ whining and Remus’ attempts of being the voice of reason, you stand back and watch your boys, and you feel like love will literally burst out of your chest. You just love them so much.

Giving yourself a few more seconds to linger, you throw the boys one last glance before moving towards the bathroom, mentally going over the list of things you have to do - but when you pass by the bedroom window, a flash of white catches your attention as it’s barely visible through the curtains.

But even though it’s barely visible, you know exactly what it is, and excitement rises in your throat as you pull apart the curtains and a loud gasp leaves your lips, snapping the boys out of their antiques.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s snowing!”

You have always loved the first winter snow - how it would cover the ground, the trees and cars, and you would finally get that feeling of holidays and Christmas, and everything good the winter can bring. This, however, is the first year you all are living together, so the boys haven’t exactly had the chance to see you like this.

That’s why they almost have a heart attack when you yank the window open and lean over the edge, trying to catch a few snowflakes with one hand, while loosely holding on with the other.

You barely get a single snowflake on your palm before a pair of hands grabs your waist and you are being pulled inside, the bedroom window slammed shut by a panicky James, and Remus’ worried face entering your view.

“Dove, what the hell?”

“I wanted to catch the snowflakes!”

“By throwing yourself out of the window?”

“And with just a shirt on? You don’t even have the pants on!” Sirius’ grip is still iron tight around your waist and okay, maybe you can see their point but it’s not like you were trying to fly out. Besides, you all live on the first floor, so it’s not like you have far to go. Of course, if you were to say that, you would be on the receiving end one of Remus’ famous disappointed glares, so you keep your mouth shut. Instead, you place your hands over Sirius’ and lean into him, while smiling apologetically at the other two men in front of you.

“Sorry, I got excited.”

“That’s alright sweetheart, we just worry.” The kiss James plants on your lips is the softest thing ever.

“How about we go make some breakfast, and then go out and enjoy the snow after we eat?”

For a first snow day of the winter, this one isn’t so bad.

#DecemberEvent2023 #poly marauders x reader #marauders x reader #marauders x you #marauders x y/n #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders #poly!marauders x you

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goldenchunkycat · 2 years ago

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Jake as your Alpha

[Hum. HUMHUM. Boyyy, I literally can't believe myself. Just thinking about two of the thing I like the most at the momentt makes me sweat and blush. Thirst under the cut !]

You would be a nice and quiet Omega (remember guys, shy people supremacy on this blog). Always agreeing with everyone and being nice to the meanies. Some people of the clan would actually make fun of you, even bully you. But well, it's a hierarchy thing and you, darling, are at the bottoooooom of it. So it's not surprise, even to you.

But your life changed when you met Jake. He was the chosen one, the elect of Eywa. When Neytiri brought him to the Hometree, you fell in love. Like literally. You fell in front of him. Pretty you gathered your things and ran away, avoiding eye contact with the big and strong Alpha and glowing like a freaking star. Jake would be in love IMMEDIATELY. Like, you are pretty, shy, you seem nice and you smell good. You were the perfect little Omega, right ?

Right. He couldn't have been farther away from the truth. I'm not gonna start on the 'yOu WeRe DiFfErEnT bEcAuSe YoU dId NoT bElIeVe ThAt An OmEgA nEeDeD aN AlPhA aNd YoU wErE a BaDaSs'. No. You understood that pairing an Alpha and an Omega wasn't just about 'hierarchy and strength', it was about 'protection and needs'. As an Omega you lacked skills in certain domain and excel in others, just like an Alpha would. You did not needed an Alpha, you wanted one. And despite having a rough start with Jake who accidentally mansplain to you the second time you met, he eventually understood what he did wrong and your point of view.

Even if seeing him was difficult because of his 'Na'vi' training, you were finally able to spend more time with each other after the bad events which occurred. And you started to flirt, to learn about each other, to spend some quality time. And he started to show you that he was very much interested in you, despite what the clan kept on telling him. Because those guys, and don't get me wrong they weren't mean, would propose him to mate an Alpha, one who would be just as strong as him, because Jake was a hero, a warrior. But he would politely reject them because he only had his eyes on you. The sweet Omega who weren't able to shoot an arrow and hurt a fly, the sweet Omega who was particularly skilled in crafting outfits and make jewelry. His sweet Omega.

"Omega, what do you think about your big and strong warrior ?"

"Did you see me at the ceremony? I was wearing the necklace that you gifted me. I was so handsome while wearing it that some guys fell in love with me."

"It's cuddle time, let's go back to our nest." "..." "I know that we're having a feast. But it's cuddle time..."

He would be the sweetest Alpha to you. Showing you that he could provide you the love you needed to be blooming and proving you that he possessed the strength to protect you against anyone or anything. And it means those bullies too. He would only glance at them, frowning, and they would lower their head, showing their respect and understanding that they couldn't mess with you anymore. Since this day they never annoyed you again.

Now let's get into the real sht. Alpha!Jake would be so gentle in bed. You want to cum ? Why are you asking darling, go ahead and do it. Praises praises a lot of PRAISES. You are his good girl, you NEED to know that you're making him feel good. He would worship your body. Kissing every single area of your skin, nipping on it and leaving hickeys on the place he knew you couldn't hide to the clan member's eyes. Because they need to know that you are not the same Omega that they used to know and tease. You were Jake's Omega, and he was his Omega's Alpha.

Alpha!Jake would gently hold your hair while you're sucking his dick, telling you how good you are with your tongue. He would rest your legs on his shoulder while eating you out because he don't want you to have cramps the next day. He would always make sure that. you are comfortable, no matter if he's fucking you on the ground, the table, or behind against a wall after you two slip out of a social event. He would hold your hands while making love to you, panting and moaning right next to your ear because he wants to show you this side of him to you and only you. He would cum on your stomach and rub his cum all over you because he wants you to smell like him. He would constantly touch you when you're done with your business, wondering if he should impregnate you one more time. Just to be sure that you're pregnant with his child.

"Those hips, they are perfect to give birth."

"Honey, you're so cute. You make me feel so good. Did you just clenched ? My good Omega loves being praised. Sweet."

"Now you're all good to go. Covered in my cum and in my scent."

Masterlist

#avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #atwow jake #atwow #jake sully #jake sully x reader #jake sully headcanon #jake sully smut #avatar smut #x reader #golden's brain is loading #atwow x reader #avatar 2022 #smut #jake smut #jake

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isa-beenme · 1 year ago

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So @lillithathecat who request this, the thing is, everything is getting out of hand omg kkkkkkkkk (Brazilian laugh, I don't know how to laugh in english)

I just have my box filled and now I'm getting nervous (not out of ideas tho, keep sendind) I think I'm gonna pick out one of each prompt and publish it because I'm getting a lot of repeated ones, after that I'll write all the others, is that good?

Good, see you next babies

ALSO CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW MUCH I LOVE RHYS??? Literally my favorite, could write for him forever, he is my first and last thought of the day SEND MORE REQUESTS FOR HIM PLEASE 😭😭😭😭😭 I want to have a reason to write more

Mastermind

You. Were. Freaking. Out.

Damn it, none of it was in your plans, definitely. I mean, you planned your whole life, how could this not be in your plans? It was, actually, but NOT NOW. You had so many things to figure out in your life yet, you could not possibly be damn fucking pregnant.

Of course, you were, you actually noticed every single change in you since the first week, and have been going to Madja over and over again for the past two months, you know and have made sure you are expecting a baby. But the same amount of happiness you had in your heart you had nervousness.

It was not a bad thing, not at all, you couldn't be more happy to be expecting your first child, but oh gods, so soon? Not soon tho, you were past five hundred years, three hundred of them with your goddamned mate, also husband, also the father of the project of a baby you were carrying, also your High Lord. That last sentence being the reason for all of your worries.

Not just you were the High Lady as well, but the child in your womb was already fated to the weight of the crown in its non-yet-existent head, and it was heavy on you too. The idea of carrying and protecting and raising the future of the Night Court was terrifying.

You studied hard to be the best you could offer for your court, the one you were born and raised and so proud to live in. You planned everything, from top to toe you handed it all ready and verified and corrected and detailed for every single idea for a change or plan to solve problems. That's why you were so admired in every single piece of land in your court.

And yet, you couldn't figure out how to organize your thoughts and feelings to fit a baby into your life. You always knew the day was coming, that's precisely why you stopped taking your medicine. But you honestly thought it would take months or maybe even years to get pregnant, knowing very well how hard it is for a fae to make a baby. But with the number of times you and Rhysand got filthy with each other being impressive, it actually wasn't a surprise you got your one so fast.

But you couldn't stop the worries anyway.

You talked it through with Rhysand, you knew he wanted nothing more than a child, but what if you tell him and he doesn't want it now? What would you do?

The pile of papers and the amount of books in your study room kept staring at you, wondering where you were finally going to start working.

Damn, would you have to stop working for a while and focus only on the baby? Could you still train with Cass, go out with Mor, go jewelry hunting with Amren, and fly with Az? And after the birth, could you come back to your so well-detailed life or everything would have to involve the baby too?

The questions filled your head and flooded your senses to the point that you didn't even notice the door opening and your mate coming in to check on you and have your daily conversation over sweets and coffee of the afternoon. His smile quickly dropped as he took in your state of distress, leaving the tray of food on top of the table to get close to you. He gives you a small touch on your shoulder to make you notice him before he lifts your face to hold it in his hands as he looks at you.

-What happened? Something wrong? - His voice soothes you so much, even more after the pregnancy, feeling every cell in your body light up in happiness for having him there.

-Nothing wrong. I'm just thinking too much - He pulls you up, making you stand in front of him. His hands were still caressing your face as he started pecking your skin.

-You do that when you get a court-related problem and don't know how to solve it, then you get stressed for not getting an answer and get mad at yourself for not being "smart enough" to make everyone happy - He pecks your mouth lightly, his analysis making you chuckle since he was on point in every word - So, what do we have in hands? Who is upset in this court? I didn't receive anything.

-I mean, I got the news a few weeks ago and I've been trying to make sense of it for a while - He waited as you grabbed his hands and kissed them, touching him somehow always made you feel more secure about yourself - But no one is upset. I think everyone will be more than happy with the news. I just don't know how to react. How to tell you.

-Tell me? - Rhysand frowns slightly, pulling you to the nearest couch and making you sit on top of him, cuddling you as a way to make you feel safe to talk - You know that I would never say a bad thing to you, ever.

-I know. That's not what I'm worried about - You grab his hand and put it on top of your stomach, not any different from the other days, as the baby was still the size of a small grain. Yet, the act seemed enough for him to understand - I actually know you will be more than excited.

His face lights up in a fraction of a second, his eyes shining with a thousand stars, the stars you always praise when he looks at you. His arms circle you as his laugh fills in the room, kisses being left all over the skin he could reach. The happiness flew over the bond as you were also laughing, enjoying your mate's reaction. His thoughts and feelings were shooting themselves at you, his heart racing and filling with happiness while small tears ran down his face.

-Thank you so much, my love. Thank you - He murmured while rocking in you, face still hidden in your neck - Why were you worried? This is the best news you could ever give me - His face clearly demonstrated that, the happiest he ever seemed since the day you were officialized as High Lady in front of the Court members. He kisses you one more time, this time long and deep and sweet and loving. He loved you. Loved the kid you both would get to raise together.

-The timing… I don't know - You dried the tears on his face, pecking his cheeks as he simply took in your scent, finally finding the light scent of the baby growing inside you - I thought I would get more time to prepare myself? Like, make plans and stuff. I know we have eight months in front of us to deal with everything but still… I didn't exactly plan it through.

-You can't plan it. You never know if the seed takes root. It's hard for faes to conceive babies, you know this - He tries to state calmly, the euphoria affecting his senses making it hard for him to focus completely - You don't need to plan anything. There are moments in life that you simply have to live through.

-Well… Yeah, I think so - He pecks your face more times and you laugh, trying to brush off the uneasiness you felt by not being in control - I never experienced a situation like this, but I think we can manage.

-What do you mean, "never experienced"? Being High Lady of the Night Court was all in your plans? - He laughed and stopped right away, taking in your expression, almost as if he caught you committing a crime - You planned to be High Lady?!

-No! Not being High Lady itself… just… work with you, have a really high rank in politics, maybe be your advisor - He was shocked, his smile growing as he took in the information - I mean, that's what I spent my whole life studying for, you know? To work!

-But when I met you I thought-

-Thought I was just an artist trying to make money on Rita's while singing a lovely song about breaking rules, changing the world for the greater good, bringing peace with my group of freaky friends to the city, and living happily ever after in the world we created? Then Rita went to your table and told the Inner Circle they would get a free round of wine that day if one of you went up on the stage and sang a duet with me. Mor's heel was broken, Cassian couldn't even try because he spent the whole week screaming in the camps and Azriel still was too shy. So you went up on the stage because "what better than a fun challenge with a pretty girl that makes music about all of your dreams", right? We sang, and you gained a free round of wine and invited me to drink too, I accepted, said something about the changes they were doing in the Rainbow, I gave slight ideas as if I was just a normal citizen of Velaris that was trying to make my city a better place. Even if you were drunk you kept those ideas in your mind and passed them to your father. The next week, oh my, look who we found in your favorite coffee shop! Remember the one you went to every Wednesday after a reunion with your father? That one. You found me, we talked, and you asked me if I had more ideas. I said I did. You were flirting but were also curious. After three or four weeks I was basically your advisor. I didn't plan to fall in love with you, but it was a welcomed feeling since you were as sweet as people talked about. We kissed, the mating bond snapped, and we married. Bingo! I'm High Lady and everything went as I planned, like pieces of dominoes falling in order - Rhysand frowns slightly and realizes how everything you said matched perfectly with those first weeks you both met each other. His face turns to you with a shocked smile, his mind still processing all of the information - So yeah, never planned to be your mate, but definitely planned our encounter and everything after.

-How? - It was the only word he could process, his hand still caressing your sides.

-During my childhood kids never wanted to play with me for some stupid reason I don't even remember, but from then on I swore I would make everyone love me so I would never feel alone again, and would make it seem effortless. I talked with everyone in Velaris when I first moved in. I wanted to have a job with the current High Lord, but everyone seemed scared of him, yet they loved you. So I guess it would be easier if I made friends with you, right? Anyway, you already had your Inner Circle, and it was basically impossible to get in, so I reunited every information I could from you. Your preferences, your family, your friends, your habits, I even talked with some of the girls you fucked just to make sure, nowadays I understand why I always felt so jealous. Then I took music lessons after meeting Keir once and discovering that you loved the performances they had in the Court of Nightmares. Then, I studied Illyrian culture and made some friends, also some funny enemies during my oh-so-convenient trips to Illyria, they were the ones who made Cassian lose his voice, by the way. I never had to pretend though, I was actually really interested in all of this, even more in you after we started to talk. After securing my friendship with Rita I just had to put everything into action - You smiled a little bit, as if you just didn't break his whole world twice in a short span of time - So… how do we feel about this?

-About what? Your amazing planning and spying skills or the pregnancy?

-You are not mad at me? Or scared? - You let out the breath you didn't even notice you were holding. Hearing his laugh only assured you he was okay with this little piece of craziness you held inside of you.

-Darling, you are a mastermind. I know this since the first time I saw you manipulating Keir for days to make him accept one of our new rules - He brushes one strand of hair in front of you and looks you directly in the eyes - I never feared you because I always knew you would never do anything bad. You're just evil in the right situation, I think that's why I knew you would be the most perfect High Lady - He kissed your neck, slowly making his way up to your lips. His skin was hot as fire now, the air heating up too as he kissed you deep to show the devotion you fought so hard to get - It actually turns me on to know you manipulated me. How weird.

-Does my High Lord like it when I outsmart him, hm? - His breath hitch a little before he grips your hip and brings you closer than possible, your hands blindly trace his tattoos on top of the clothing, their shapes well known by your mind from the uncountable amount of time you spent decorating them in his bare skin.

-Surprisingly I do - His hand sneaks under your shirt, placing it directly on top of the place it would swell in a short time - Maybe we can call it a day and commemorate your mind and our future alone, in bed, maybe you can tell me about all the other plans you had while I lick every piece of skin you have.

-I already have a baby growing in me, you know? You don't need to try anymore - Your laugh is quickly replaced by a moan as his other hand travels to the inside of your trousers.

-Maybe we can rush and put another one - His mouth captures yours and he winnows you both to your shared room, your back against the soft mattress as his hand keeps its job.

-I'm pretty sure that's not how it works - His chuckle fills in the room, in a snap of his fingers all of your clothes disappear.

-And I'm pretty sure I just want to eat you out - He quickly dropped to his knees in front of you, his mouth making the travel it made thousands of times before.

Maybe you could finally let destiny make its way without a thought about it.

#Spotify #rhys acotar #rhysand x reader #rhysand #rhys x reader #acotar

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cheerycherrycandy-resurrected · 6 months ago

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Happy Birthday Ash!! 🎂

I hope you have an amazing day!! @rainsbasspick

After discussing it for weeks (months??) I've finally finished my Dew2 kitten-fic for you!! I hope it's everything you wanted 🖤

thanks again for letting me steal the idea of the little crocheted horns!!

I'll put it on AO3 for you when I wake up :P (yes this is scheduled for 6am you early-bird!!) but it's here for now since I don't want to keep you waiting any longer!

fic below the cut:

Things hadn't changed much amongst the pack since Spitfire arrived. Dew, Cumulus and Sunny continued their reign of terror; Swiss still bickered with Dew over anything and nothing; Rain continued Phantom and Aurora's video game education. But one thing had changed: Dew was no longer the biggest antagonist amongst them.

In her few short months on Earth, Spitfire had outdone Dew's personal brand of chaos effortlessly: the spirited little furball was constantly getting under everyone's feet and in everyone's hair. However, in spite of the extra trouble she caused, Spitfire was still universally loved by them all. Well, almost all...

Dew was still unconvinced. Sure, he could admit that she was rather cute: that time she climbed a bare-chested Swiss with her claws was great payback for his most recent verbal swipe at Dew earlier that day. Seeing Cumulus and Sunshine go gooey-eyed over her was also strangely touching, but he stood firm on one thing: the cat was not his replacement, and he was by far the superior Spitfire of the pack!

The ghoulettes were keen to prove him wrong, however. Despite his protests, the kitten was still frequently nicknamed Dew2, especially when she misbehaved. Cumulus had crocheted her a tiny set of red horns to wear as a hat, which somehow ended up being the same length as Dew's own stubby horns. The photograph of a scowling Dew, reluctantly stood next to a beaming Cumulus holding Spitfire wearing her horns, had been added to the pack photos on the fridge the very same afternoon.

Clearly someone had taken inspiration from this. A few days later, Dew had walked into the kitchen to discover that in every single photograph his face had been covered over by a cut-out of Spitfire in her little red horns. The kitten had been sat on the back of the sofa behind a very suspicious-looking Sunshine, primly washing her paws in a way that convinced Dew she knew exactly what had happened, and approved.

As time passed and Dew became used to the new pack dynamic, the pranks at his expense had slowly died down. They had gone back to terrorising the siblings and their other packmates, and Dew had to admit that Spitfire was very good at it. Combined with her talent for getting under people’s feet – sometimes quite literally – Dew had to admit that the kitten was rather cute.

One morning, he had crawled into the den kitchen in search of coffee and toast, and had been greeted by a small chirp. In her basket atop the giant cat tree that Mountain had been begged to help assemble, Spitfire had leapt to her feet and stretched. She meowed lightly again at Dew, looking at him with a curious head tilt until a humongous yawn overtook her small body, showing off her tiny needle-like teeth.

Dew regarded her back with a sideways look of his own, confused as to why she seemed so pleased to see him when he hadn’t exactly been her biggest fan so far. While he was facing away to poke at the coffee machine, Spitfire hunkered down into a pouncing position, her bottom in the air and her stubby little tail waving behind her. Dew turned back just in time to see her take a flying leap from the top of the cat tree, wincing as she hit the ground with a thud, little legs spread out beneath her. She scampered happily towards him, seemingly unfazed.

Reaching Dew's ankles, the kitten stared up at him, considering her next move. She began her ascent up Mount Dew by launching herself at his knees, digging her claws into the thin fabric of his pyjamas and climbing the wincing and hissing ghoul until she could scramble onto the counter. Spitfire looked up at him expectantly, and Dew stared back.

“You're not meant to be up here.” he told her, simply. Of course, she ignored him, chirping and wandering off towards the relative interest of the rumbling coffee machine.

“Careful, it's hot!” Dew lunged for the tiny ball of ginger fluff that was sniffing at the flow of steaming brown liquid. She hissed and squirmed at the hand grasped around her middle, protesting until Dew released the wriggling kitten a safe distance away from all hot appliances. Huh, Dew figured. He was more scared of her getting hurt than he was of her many claws, maybe she was finally growing on him as the ghoulettes had said she would. Spitfire meanwhile set about washing herself, glaring at Dew like he had personally wronged her by preventing her from burning her delicate nose on the hot coffee.

“Oh, don't be such a drama queen!”

She looked back as if to say takes one to know one. Dew rolled his eyes and stuffed two slices of bread into the toaster.

Spitfire regained her interest in Dew's breakfast endeavours when he opened the fridge. She knew that was where the good food lived – butter, cheese, salami... all the things she wasn't strictly allowed, but the ghouls fed her morsels of nonetheless. Rain had even given her a lick of whipped cream when he emerged for a 2am hot chocolate, once. He hadn’t been able to make one since without triggering the siren that was a wailing Spitfire when denied treats, waking the entire ghoul wing’s occupants. Still, the cream-tax was a worthwhile cost for his uninterrupted late-night snacks.

Dew returned with the butter and was just going in search of a plate when the toaster popped. Both him and Spitfire jumped at the sudden noise, the latter leaping so high off the counter that Dew was worried she would hit the cabinets above. She huffed and shook out her fur, before hissing at the toaster.

"Yeah, you show that toaster who's boss.” Dew murmured to her, retrieving his toast and buttering it. As he moved to retrieve his now-brewed coffee, Spitfire slunk forward and began sniffing at the hot buttery toast. Dew tried to bat her away from it, juggling both his plate and mug at the same time, but she only tried to chase his buttery fingers instead. When Dew finally extricated himself and his breakfast to head over to the table, it looked like Spitfire was either going to take another flying leap at him, or begin wailing. To keep the peace, Dew returned the butter knife to the counter where she immediately descended upon it, delicately licking at the leftover smears and purring up a storm.

“Don’t tell the girls I let you have that,” Dew warned her, “Sunny will skin me alive!”

Spitfire purred louder.

After a while, Dew started to realise that what he had previously thought were acts of aggression from Spitfire were really the kitten trying to play. Her swipes at his ankles had no claws behind them, and her hisses held no real venom. In fact, it seemed that she had been directly provoking him, in search of rougher playtime than the ghoulettes would provide.

The other ghouls had seemingly realised that she was not merely satisfied with a small feather toy either. Dew had walked into the lounge one day to find several of them sat around on couches, legs outstretched and looking for all the world as though they were kicking the kitten around like a football.

“What are you doing to that poor cat?!” Dew exclaimed, his protective instincts kicking in as he ran over to rescue her. Had the ghoulish nature of his packmates finally got the better of them? Ghouls were known to play with their food, much like cats themselves, but this torment seemed excessive! As he got closer however, he realised that Spitfire seemed to be running into their feet instead of away from them. She would pounce on a ghoul's foot, cling on tight, and wait to be launched in the direction of another waiting one.

“It's a game,” Rain laughed, “and she started it! Come on, sit down and join in.”

Dew tentatively joined him on the sofa and Spitfire immediately ran to her newest playmate, jumping onto his socked foot and bunny-kicking at it with her back legs.

“Now throw her to Phantom!” Rain mimed like he was kicking a football from the halfway line, but Dew employed significantly less force to toss her to the ghoulette on the opposite sofa. He watched as Spitfire released her grip on him right at the peak of his swing, sailing briefly through the air before scampering the rest of the way towards Phantom.

“I don't get it.” declared Dew but still, he stayed on the sofa and joined in until Spitfire decided she was bored and wandered off in search of dinner.

Not too long later, Dew was walking through the gardens in search of Mountain. As he was passing the small orchard of apple trees that separated the Abbey’s ornamental gardens from the less tidy and earth-ghoul-infested vegetable plots, he heard a distressed yowling coming from above his head. Peering through the branches, he eventually spotted a flash of orange fur. Frantic eyes met his, as she howled down at him from her perch high in the air.

“How in the hell did you get up there?” Dew exclaimed, craning his neck to see better. She shakily tried to clamber her way closer to him, until the branch dipped dangerously with a gust of wind and she recommenced her cries for help. Dew shook his head in bemusement, and pulled himself up into the lower branches of the tree.

“You’re a cat, aren’t you meant to be good at climbing things?”

She meowed again, as Dew climbed out towards her. The limbs of the tree swayed even more dangerously under his greater weight. He focused on the tiny and frightened kitten, refusing to look down in case the more rational part of his brain tuned back in to see just how high up he now was.

Dew could almost reach out and touch Spitfire, she was just a few centimetres further from him, but the branches were so narrow here. How she made it this far out in the first place was beyond him. He cooed to her, trying to convince her to cross the final distance herself. She seemed frozen to the spot in fear, however.

“You’re lucky there’s so many quint ghouls here,” Dew informed her, “if I fall and break a leg getting you down, they’ll all be falling over each other to heal the brave ghoul who rescued a kitten!” Her answering meow simply told him to hurry up, dreams of possible glory be dammed!

Climbing even higher, and reaching out with fingers trembling from the stretch, Dew finally had Spitfire. Grasping her tightly around her middle, he pulled her to him and placed her on his shoulder, for once not complaining about her claws digging in. He set about making his own descent and, as the spindly branches beneath him trembled, he could see why Spitfire had gotten stuck – it was much scarier going down than up! Dew knew though that he would never hear the end of it if he got stuck up the same tree he was rescuing Spitfire from, so with gritted teeth he climbed down the tree one shaky branch at a time. Once Dew was finally on solid ground again, heart pounding and sighing in relief, Spitfire then rediscovered her adventurous spirit and climbed down him.

“Don’t do that again you silly kitty!” Dew admonished the tiny ball of fur, her tail still puffed up from the ordeal, “There won’t always be someone around to help you.” She chirped as if in careless acknowledgement, and headbutted his ankles.

“See,” he laughed, continuing on his original mission to find Mountain, with her now trotting along in tow, “you can be a sweet little thing, when you’re not trying to replace me!”

After the events of recent days Spitfire had apparently decided that Dew was her new favourite, much to the chagrin of the ghoulettes who were wondering where their smallest member had disappeared to. She could often be found following him around like a little shadow, helping him with his own mischief but mostly making more of her own.

On a quiet afternoon – too quiet for comfort, some could say – Spitfire had wandered off alone. Dew was walking the corridors looking for some form of entertainment: Cumulus and Sunshine had locked themselves away with Cirrus, Aurora and Mist for top secret ghoulette activities; Swiss was still annoyed at him for messing with his shaker in rehearsals by replacing the beads with sleigh bells (although in Dew’s opinion, Phantom’s little giggle of “hail Santa!” was worth every second of Copia’s confusion); and Rain was lurking at the bottom of the lake.

Turning a corner by the kitchen he came across what looked like a roast chicken, dragging itself along the corridor. Getting closer he quickly realised it was Spitfire, attempting to pilfer a chicken larger than she was. Her little paws were scrabbling for purchase on the smooth stone floors of the corridor, and tiny growls emanated from her each time the chicken slipped from her grasp.

“Impressive.” Dew whistled lowly, and Spitfire paused to look up at him. With an impatient huff and meow she looked back at the chicken, clearly asking him for help.

“You think you can eat all that do you?” he bent down, scooping up the roast chicken with the kitten still attached, and carried the pair back to the den. Dew placed them on the counter, and began prying Spitfire off of the bird. He was becoming increasingly less scared of her claws now, and having seen how the ghoulettes dealt with her, he was quickly becoming a master cat wrangler. He tore a leg off the chicken as his own snack, and wrapped the rest in foil and put it in the fridge. No one could say the two of them didn’t help provide for their packmates!

Carefully, he pulled off a few small pieces of meat and thoroughly checked them for bones, before offering them to Spitfire for her trouble. She delicately took them with her teeth, licking her lips in satisfaction while Dew expertly cleaned the meat off the bone with his own long tongue and sharp fangs.

Clearly, food was the key to Spitfire's heart: Rain and Phantom would bribe her for cuddles with treats, Aurora would coax her into posing for photos with small cubes of cheese on a string, and Dew had grown in popularity, as the earliest riser, for always feeding her breakfast. No matter where she had spent the night, as soon as Dew's door squeaked open Spitfire would appear to twine around his ankles in a display of pure cupboard love, until she was fed.

That didn't mean she was ever satisfied with just her own breakfast, however. Dew had learned to keep an eagle eye on everything he set down, even if it didn't immediately seem like food a cat would want to eat.

“Naughty! That's not for you, Cornflake.” He had chided her, exasperated, as he turned around to see her sat on the table with her face buried in his bowl of cereal. Milk clung to her whiskers until she shook herself violently, droplets flying everywhere, before moving to sit on top of the book Dew had been about to open and starting to bathe herself.

Despite continuing to wind each other up, breakfast had become their bonding time. Dew was almost always the first in the kitchen, rising with the sun, and Spitfire seemed to delight in the company. They would spend the first hour of the day sat in the cool morning light of the kitchen, often with Dew defending his breakfast from curious paws, but sometimes they sat quietly together if Dew had had a late night, or Spitfire had been roaming the halls chasing mice.

On another such morning, Dew and Spitfire were enjoying their morning coffee and water respectively. Band rehearsals were due to start in an hour, and while some of the other ghouls had already wandered sleepily in and out of the kitchen, Rain had yet to make an appearance. That wasn't uncommon; he slept like the dead, especially around the time of the new moon. Not wanting Rain to get in trouble for being late to practice again, Dew knew he should wake him up. But if there was one thing worse than a disappointed look from Papa, it was the disgruntled snarl of a recently awoken water ghoul.

"Go and wake Rainy up,” Dew suggested to the kitten that was now pacing back and forth, impatiently awaiting the arrival of the ghoul who always smelled so deliciously of fish, “he won't get mad at you for it.”

With a trill, Spitfire leapt off the table and scampered from the room. A short while later she proudly trotted back in, her stubby tail waving in self-satisfaction and with a sleepy Rain in tow. Dutifully and on autopilot, he put a scoop of cat biscuits in her bowl like she normally demanded of him. In his half-awake state, he failed to see that it was still filled from when Dew had fed her shortly before. Rain had learned not to eat the small and tasty fish biscuits no matter how good he thought they smelled: his packmates didn't appreciate smelling them on his breath, and Spitfire got jealous.

She completely ignored the offer of second breakfast in lieu of delicately accepting a piece of salami from Dew, who was now sprawled on the couch with a coffee to lure in his un-caffeinated water ghoul.

“Morning Rainy!” he chirped, as Rain unceremoniously flopped on top of him on the couch and made grabby hands at the steaming mug. “Ready for rehearsals?” He received a grunt in return as the water ghoul gulped down the coffee like a parched traveller in the desert.

Spitfire settled down on the back of the couch to watch the pair, and soon all three were purring quietly. One hand gently scratching at Rain's scalp, Dew reached the other up to pet Spitfire. They might have got off to a rocky start, but Dew couldn’t wait to see what sort of mischief they could get up to together next.

#ash tag!#have the best birthday <33

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13docwriting · 1 year ago

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So I'll start with the fact that I am, indeed, a fan of Chibnall's era. I am an even bigger fan of the 13th Doctor. I'll also start with the fact that I quite literally grew up with RTD's writing and loved Ten with all my heart. But now I am an adult and some of RTD's writing has left me a bit scared. Here's my "live streaming" review on The Star Beast. SPOILERS BELOW!

I'm going in order of how I processed things, so it's gonna be chaotic. My first essay is this: You know why this post is so long? It's because we're not livestreaming things anymore. I'm not immediately with other fans in real time, typing out our little posts. I'm quite literally doing this at my leisure. I'll miss watching DW live. Now then, in order! 1. The music? Ten out of ten. I have always loved Gold's compositions and he did not let us down. And this opinion is only being generated from the new(er) theme song. Which leads me to...

2. Look at the B U D G E T. Even the opening credits has a budget that you can just FEEL. Those stars/galaxies? Very nice... And then I have to chuckle over the low level lighting / 2000s era effects of David Tennant's full profile voiceover of Donna and his story.

3. Him taking the boxes, seeing Donna's face, and slowly putting the boxes back is an RTD special and I LOVE that kind of comedy. It just makes me chuckle. And then him having a full blown panic over hearing Donna shout "Rose!" which... 4. Having these little call back moments feels rather bitter since we're calling this a reboot of the show. UNLESS the reboot is when Nucti starts up? But the fact that I'm confused just shows how bitter I should be. Again, my Chibnall love is showing. I don't believe in yet another reboot for DW, but that's a marketing thing over anything else... I hope. 5. I'm glad the 2000s Rose/Doctor shipping era lives strong through the name Rose. I know those fans are going to be happy and they deserve it. 6. NOW... Donna having a family. Okay. I'll have a separate post but... Does anyone else think that Donna having a husband just doesn't fit for her? Especially with her memories erased? Idk, I just never envisioned Donna getting married after the whole Lance thing. BUT I'm glad she's happy and the husband seems so nice. 7. Donna giving up that lottery money? Also strange considering she lost her memories. The first time we meet Donna we get this feeling that she's a bit shallow, which makes sense because she has to develop as a character. That was her character development so here KEEPING the money would have made more sense here. Which...

8. Rose. That's all. She's great!

9. Hey, can't help but notice, but when did the 14th Doctor have time to make a new screwdriver, huh? What gives? AND - AND there's not a single hint of 13's sonic on there. HMM. What the heck!

10. FORGOT SOMETHING. Whatever the line was "that says mistress" "Oh, catch up, will you?" I don't know how to take in this scene quite yet, but it's making me pause. It felt... Off kilter. Maybe cause I love 13 so much, I don't know. There's always callbacks to other faces when the Doctor first regenerations, but this felt... Wrong? Also, TEE HEE my mind went to Missy IMMEDIATELY and I love that little connection my fic writing brain is going wild.

11. WHY DOES UNIT HAVE SO MUCH MONEY???? Look at this uniforms, holy cow! I almost don't like it? Like, they're an underground agency. WE JUST SAW THEM GET DESTROYED BY CYBERMEN IN THE POWER OF THE DOCTOR. Are we just ignore that entire episode or...?

12. Donna not being able to keep a job? Yeah, THAT one I believe haha.

13. "I will burn down the world for you, darling" says Donna Noble to her transgender kid. WHICH IS AMAZING, WHICH MADE ME SMILE SO WIDE I WAS HAVING A PARTY IN MY BRAIN. There's my Donna! 14. "Gramps used to talk about flying saucers" oh god my heart. I teared up a little, not going to lie. Wilf, I think about you every single day. You made the Doctor the person he is today.

15. MEEP IS SO CUTE. OH WOW. I know "evil" is coming but SO CUTE RIGHT NOW.

16. To go from some excellent animatronics from the Meep to whatever those alien, fly things are was HILARIOUS. What, we'd run out of money for those costume's? Were they meant to look like a typical RTD alien back in the 2000s? How does that work?

17. WHAT THE ACTUAL FLYING FUCK WAS THE SONIC DOING. Wait, did Disney give the sonic some magical powers? Why are we suddenly writing in the air? How are we getting readouts of the ship from the sonic like that? Could it do that before? Why would we not do that before? I'm dying that's so funny.

18. Shirley seems cool!!! I hope we get more of her! And I love the nod to PROPER representation. Chibs did a good job of that as well. Edit: REAL representation! Good on RTD. The scene with the stairs and she says "don't make me the problem"... I am not a wheelchair user but I do hope that was properly done. 19. "I absolutely love her [Donna]" LOOK AT 14 HAVING FEELINGS! Aww, I hope 15 follows through with the feelings! 11, 12, and 13 have been so locked up, so scared to love... Having a Doctor that's ready to loudly embrace their love for things would be such a good character development. (My fear would be RTD ripping that away in the most tragic way possible, but that's a future problem I suppose).

20. I'm at the scene where Rose is talking to the Meep in the shed, and just, again, THE MUSIC. We did have some good musical moments in 13's era but, even I have to admit, nothing as pretty as this. It really is something, round of applause once again.

21. LISTEN. L I S T E N. I don't condone slapping the Doctor. I don't. In fact, it's wrong. It's very wrong. And you can't slap 13, can you? So slapping 14 shouldn't make sense. It's the definition of sexist. It's just not something you should do. BUT. B U T. Jackie's "stitch this, mate" is always in my head and now THIS "here we go again" after Sylvia gives the Doctor a good slap... I laughed, okay? It was funny! But really, in the good year of 2023, there shouldn't be comedy like that. That joke should have died. BUT I LAUGHED. So I'm to blame as well.

22. "Never mind about the ferret from mars." I LOVE the mars callback from Donna, thank you very much.

23. Kate looking after Wilf damn near brought tears to my eyes. Kate, you are the real hero of the DW universe. Thank you.

24. This is... This is gonna be another post. But. Okay. So. The whole "you're assuming he as a pronoun". Right. Okay. I know groups of people that talk like that. Both online and in person. Personal life spoiler, I work(ed) in musical theater. I've seen it all. I, personally, do not like this whole... "Let's be really obvious about it" thing. And also highly believe in someone else first telling me, when it fits, what their pronouns are. Having someone pull the defensive "YOU ASSUMED" crap doesn't work because humans don't think like that. It's a whole other rant, but yeah. This felt forced and I hate when shows do that. Representation is important but FORCING that representation doesn't help.

25. what's the. what's the sonic doing. what. how'd it. we got lines in the air. we got unbelievable shield. we. he waved it like a wand and now. what the. how'd. (Yo, not me head cannoning that this is 13 banging around in 14's head demanding that they have a better way to protect their friends. Love it). I WILL HAVE A LOT MORE THOUGHTS ON THIS.

26. DW has money now. That will continue to blow my mind.

27. "This is a sonic screwdriver and if it's good at one thing, it's resonating concrete". Oh yeah, Doctor? I'd like to bring forth you, never once, being able to do it. Not once! (And now it's good at creating magical shields and complex, alien holograms, but that's point #25)

28. Where'd in hell's name did he get that wig and how soon can Donna throw it out a window?

29. MEEP YOU - YOU UTTER AHOLE. Man, it was SO CUTE

30. O k a y. I take back, holy crap what point am I on? I take back point #7. So there's some of the Doctor left in her, eh? That's why! I dig that. I really, really dig that. Sorry for being a downer, that was my mistake.

31. I too can come up with technobabble bullcrap that means nothing. I sometimes think that's RTD's biggest failing, his incessant need to over describe things. EDIT. JEEZ, a good five minutes later as we're STILL talking gibberish.

32. Hey, I see you "glass wall between Donna and the Doctor" and raise you "glass wall between Wilf and the Doctor". OW. I demand emotional compensation!

33. Listen, I just got over 13 keeping every. single. emotion inside of her. She never raised her voice, she never really cried, she never had a chance to just scream and yell and be angry at the universe. The fact that there's 14 RIGHT HERE, screaming, because to save Donna, he has to lose her YET AGAIN. Just angry and devastated and grieving... It's a stunning scene, it's a scene that makes sense, but my 13 loving little heart says that this is 13's moment to be angry and it was taken from her.

34. Also, ha, I know Disney bought DW, but did we just "Winter Soldier" Donna Noble. We gave her trigger words to keep her memories at bay? Really?

35. "Hold on a minute," said in Ten's/Fourteenth's voice... Was that.. Was that ELVEN'S theme music while Donna was being, well, Time Lady Donna? Because that was... That was GOLDEN. How amazing is that? What a great idea!

36. You MONSTER, RTD, making Fourteen hold Donna the same way he held the Master? What the hell is that about?

37. The.. The nonbinary, but binary. I... It's... Something! Okay, I'll get there. I'll have a post about it. Maybe. But. Yeah, it's something!

38. DOES UNIT HAVE AVENGERS *cough* sorry it's been a while for Marvel me *cough* STARK TOWER. WAS THAT STARK TOWER? Damn, Disney, you really did bring us back to superwholock Avenger's "Clint in the vents" era, huh?

39. "It's a shame you're not a woman anymore, because she would have understood... Something a male presenting Time Lord will never understand." You can't... You can't do the whole "nonbinary" thing and that just immediately point out gender like that. What. The defeats the entire purpose. The whole point you're trying to make is that gender DOESN'T matter, and yet... And the Doctor has always, always been nonbinary. I refer to the Doctor as "they" when speaking as a collective whole, and many of us have done that. I use pronouns when talking about specific Doctors because humans have always used pronouns. Again, 11 and 13 have made mention that gender has NEVER mattered to them. I just... You can't be poking a bear and then expecting the bear to not to come after you if you've changed the poking object from a stick to a teaser.

40. I gotta laugh that Rose and Donna had the most peaceful "regeneration" we've ever seen. Somewhere in there, a Doctor or two is screaming lol.

41. Oh... The TARDIS is ugly. DON'T HIT ME. STOP HITTING ME. I MEAN It. Not, for real though, Oh my god, what. Why. The colors. Or lack of colors, really. What the fuck. Where's the... Where's the personality? Where's the sass? I've loved every single TARDIS change but THIS... This is a hard one to swallow.

42. The TARDIS having an shit fit over Donna spilling coffee on her is WONDERFUL. That's so funny to me. With everything she's been through with 13, that was just the best way for her to get her revenge! All in all, strange episode, yeah? I mean, what WAS that plot? It was really more of setup for the next episode, and double really meant to reunite ten and Donna, which was well done, but also... Why? It just felt a bit all over the place but very much cushioned by nostalgia. I'm done now. My fingers HURT. As always, and as I say in all my fics, I'm here if you want to chat. Reblog this, PM me, tag me in stuff!

#dw spoilers #dw #doctor who #david tennant #donna noble #dw 60th #doctor who spoilers #dw specials #the doctor #fourteenth doctor #the star beast #DW the star beast

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blindluck · 10 months ago

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i didn't wanna reply over there cus this ended up getting rly long but there's this post by @shitpostingperidot and @marvelsassbutts about carol and maria's GNR concert in 88 and my brainworms got to making up hc after hc now all i think about is how that could've been the first time they got together despite mutually pining and coparenting monica for like 4/5 years or so anywayyy

idk if there's like a screenshot frame of monica's sword file or smth that shows her birthday in exact terms so i might be going on abt nothing here but listen

mcu wiki says she was born around june/october of 1983

it also says carol and maria met in their first year of AF academy "shortly after turning 18", so that's either late 1983 or early 1984, bc carol's birthday is late 65

which means monica was already in the picture by then 🥺🥺

what i'm thinking is maria got pregnant at around 17/18 and her parents took care of monica for the first year or so when she enlisted bc why wouldn't they

but as soon as she lands the test pilot job and starts making bank they're like "i love you so much and i'm very proud of you now here's your child go be her mom"

this is like in their 2nd or 3rd year of flight school so it catches everyone by surprise, and ofc higher ups use it as excuse to subtly and passive-aggressively ground maria on paid vacations and maternity leaves

obviously she sees right through the fake benevolent facade and overcompensates by not only refusing benefits, but taking on even bigger workloads

which then obviously gets her drained and exhausted and ofc carol notices and worries

she's been trying to give maria space through the whole ordeal but there's a line between giving you space and watching you get put through the wringer without doing anything

so she finally corners maria like "hey i know this is fucked up but maybe you could find another way to stick it to them without slowly killing yourself in the process can u pls just give me a call when it's too much to handle i am begging on my knees"

("my best friend, who supported me as a mother and a pilot when no one else did")

maria does slow down a bit but she still hesitates to call for help, until one particular hard night she cracks and carol gets there at flying speed to do chores and dinner and take care of monica while maria (a single mom in her early 20s who is also an overworked test pilot) finally gets some goddamn rest

(after changing monica's diaper tho bc apparently carol can't help with that)

from then on carol pretty much moves in with them

maria starts slowing down and taking care of herself and getting her due leaves and relying more on her parents and friends and she loves monica so much and things are so overwhelmingly good right now...............except for this one small carol shaped situation

they've been roommates before, you see, and maria is very aware she's been in love with this goobster for a minute

but she's also a black single mom in the US air force she really doesn't have to make things harder on herself so she's been trying rly damn hard to keep carol at arm's length for both their sakes

carol too is very aware that she's in love with maria and probably has been since forever (she's not super in touch with her feelings to pinpoint when the gears shifted, plus thinking back on it she can't rmbr a time when she wasn't in love with her yknow)

but "maria has a kid she's straight" (wrong) and also carol is very insecure (canon) so she's afraid of rejection and doesn't wanna ruin the friendship and she'd rather have maria in her life as a friend instead of not at all

even if it breaks her to wake up literally next to the love of her life every single day and not spill her entire heart out

especially bc maria's mask slips sometimes, mostly when she's drunk (even if just a bit tipsy) or when they share a particularly emotional moment (quite often tbf, considering how close to dying the very nature of their job gets them on a regular basis)

fast forward to 1988

carol and maria pretty much live together and monica loves auntie carol to pieces and their hearts are both so close to exploding they might actually die for real at any given moment

now to finally tie back to where this whole thing started: carol brings home tickets to a GNR concert, maria stares at her dead in the eye like "bitch this is 500 miles away" and carol's like "oh..........................road trip? :D"

you'll never guess what happens there

one year later, carol's missing

presumed dead

#captain marvel #carol danvers #maria rambeau #danbeau #'hey whats up wyd how u been'#twirling hair around my finger #nth rly just binge reading marvel comics and hyperfixating on my comfort pilot wives #googled usaf 80s maternity leave to feed the brainworms #edit: didn't google very well APPARENTLY !

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bearlythere · 9 months ago

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haven't really been active lately, but i thought i'd start to post regularly about my thoughts and musings again.

i realised that the hardest thing is to be a hopeless romantic looking for a partner in this day and age. we were brought up on the era of cute romcoms, strong love songs that we could belt out to from icons like taylor swift, books about that sweet, sweet, happily ever after that every girl can dream about having.

and i think, being introduced to things like that from such a young age really skewed how i view love to be, or how i want to be loved. my standards are so immaculately high now that every guy that comes my way, or every guy that i meet, it just doesn't match or fit at all! either that, or guys who i am interested in just don't view me as a potential someone to explore relationships with. while i know i shouldn't settle for less, it also kind of shocks me how every single person that i think i've went on dates with has either ended with me settling for less or me not feeling respected by the other party.

and i wish it was so much more easier, for fate to bring me my other half, or at least bring me some experience of what it's like to have a boyfriend as early as some of the people around me. don't get me wrong, i love being single. i love the autonomy and freedom i have. but that shouldn't change in a relationship. and i'm all about chasing new experiences, and i want to know what it's like to feel loved. to feel wanted. what it's like to feel like i'm someone else's whole world. i thought this was a common experience for everyone. but it's just the hopeless romantic in me screaming for attention.

and i'm sick and tired of feeling this way. i'm also tired of going through the chase, the whole dating process. and i'm sick and tired of the talking phase, where you think you're going to progress somewhere and it just ends up... nowhere. the last one that i met,was the right person at the wrong time, or should i say, wrong stage. we had so much in common, so much to talk about, and literally we hit it off so well. but i met him while i was on vacation. we did explore the option of long distance, but ultimately we decided it wasn't really going to work out, with the time difference and the cost of plane tickets to even fly and see each other. and while i wished it could have ended differently, it was a good experience too, knowing that there are people like that out there who are 100% serious about courting and knowing more about you as a person. was i disappointed? of course. we're really good friends now, and the emotional dependence and rapport is still there. but one day, i know that there's a chance that he might just cut off all communication like he dropped off the face of the earth, and i feel like that'll still hurt. however, i've taken a step back, and i understand that we all have lives to live. and it's just not my time to meet the one yet.

i started a break from online dating. i started chasing different experiences. learning new things every day. doing more community service. exploring more about different art forms by joining workshops. joining more social activities that i used to shy away from and turn down. and in these short 2 months, i've lived so vicariously and am so contented with my own life. i'm so satisfied with my life. what if this was what all the romcoms were trying to teach us in the first place? to be so hopeful and open to new things in life with all the opportunities it presents you, and leave everything up to fate and the unknown? and while yes, it's scary to not be able to preplan and predict the future, but it's also exciting to see what life has in store for you. no longer do i feel like the girl i was 2 years ago, feeling like i was trapped in this little box. now i feel like i have the whole world and a worldful of experiences to explore and live my life out for. and that's the beauty of life.

#relationships #bear explores #love #dating #the dating game #hopeless romantics #right person wrong time #late bloomer

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nerdychickshavemorefun · 2 years ago

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8 Brief Thoughts About Van Helsing (2016)

It's now been a good chunk of time since Van Helsing (Syfy) final season came out on Netflix, and I would like to take a look back at some things from the early seasons that had such great potential and were ultimately squandered. Maybe one day someone can take some of these good ideas and have another go at it.

As a preface, in general I think that if this show had taken itself a little less seriously, been a little less unironically 90s-comicbook-style edgy, and just had more campy fun, they might've been able to keep the plot from flying off the rails at the end of season 3 and maybe would've been able to keep the MC likeable enough that they didn't have to stuff her in a closet for over an entire season.

And now, 8 things that could have been good:

1. the idea of a reverse vampire (someone who can bite vampires to turn them back into humans). I love the idea of being able to walk up to a classic, arrogant Gothic style vampire who remembers the Crusades and thinks humans are basically cattle, and just absolutely wreck them thematically and literally with just a little ~nibble~

2. Combining the classic "zombie apocalypse with fast zombies" setting (with half-starved feral vampires as the fast zombies), with having actual, intelligent villiand (well, varyingly intelligent) who can have the usual villian hierarchies and dynamics. Like if the various bad guy factions of The Walking Dead were lightly fantasy flavored and also not meant to just further bash into your head that all humans are horrible terrible monsters.

3. On a similar note, just having a show in an apocalypse setting that says "Humans aren't the worst, actually, because the vampires definitely are, and you have to magically and horrifically strip a person of their connection to emotion and humanity to get that". And if that's the opposite of the writers intentions and I've read it completely wrong, then I think they might've chosen being edgy and nihilist over being interesting.

4. Diversity. Not just in the representation of bi women, lesbians, BIPOC actors and characters (I cannot stress enough how big a deal having a confirmed-in-season-one bi female protag was for 2016), but in the in-world diversity of vampire clans/subspecies.

4.5. The Sisterhood. Obviously.

5. Putting a SHOCKINGLY gripping murder mystery in the middle of the first season of your post-apocalypse fantasy show.

5.5. Making Christopher Heyerdahl the murderer. The man never misses when it comes to playing compellingly unhinged characters. If you want a show with a script and plot that doesn't do him dirty like season 4 did, watch the first season of Hell on Wheels.

6. Having your mid-level BBEGs Tragic Backstory be "I was into BDSM in the 1700s and I had HORRIBLE taste in choosing a new dom and now here we are". I'm sorry but that is glorious and I still can't fathom why they waited until we no longer cared about the character to reveal it. They could've played it for comedy, they could've played it for developing the character (trust/control issues etc), and instead we got to wave at it as it passed us by on its way out the window.

7. Lady Dracula instead of good old Vlady, and the Three Spouses of Dracula instead of three wives. Liked the idea, felt the execution was lacking (but, to be fair, it was equally as lacking as everything else plot related in the later seasons). Please, someone just give me a modern Carmilla in vampire fiction.

8. A short list of themes they could have developed or developed better with this setting and these characters, and chose not to:

Human capacity for empathy and connection, and how that relates to ones definition of humanity.

In what ways does the fact that "humanity" can be given or restored in this setting conflict with the characters' assumed definitions of humanity. Further, address the fact that almost every single vampire killed in this series was originally a person who didn't want to be a vampire, and who could have been a human again. What are the personal and moral implications of actively killing a vampire when you could have just as easily turned back? Is there any real difference than just killing a human at that point?

The line between love and obsession/possession and the toxicity therein. After they mentioned that most vamps have a very limited emotional range, I would have loved to see this theme played out more in the vampires who still have close familial or romantic relationships (or, uh, I guess both), especially when you have Phil to contrast it with.

Found family and redemption arcs. Oldies but goodies. The amount of these themes/tropes they did have within the side characters' stories was most of what made the later seasons watchable for me, but I sometimes think we all might've got over the fact that Julius used to eat babies just a little too quickly.

#van helsing spoilers #van helsing (2016)#van helsing syfy #vanessa van helsing #van helsing #van helsing series finale

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ignitesthestxrs · 11 months ago

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embarassment is cringe who's your bias

oh LOL dw dw i am not literally embarrassed! more just, mindful of audience u know? but also ur my audience now

i am not really a person who tends towards Biases, but here are some guys that i really love atm!

SHINee's Key - look i love all members of shinee, they probably are my ult group these days, but if you forced me at gun point to pick one it would be This Guy. key is kind of the embodiment of the tension of how faggy can you be in public without ever coming out and - well, coming out. i also have a deep respect for how much effort he puts into his solo career, and how interesting and innovative his album concepts have been esp since he got back from the military

Exo's Kai - ah my precious Nini who is here with us largely to vibe. i think he's such a great example of like, how you can be totally hands off in terms of the creative direction of your albums LOL and still be a great performer? this man lip synced his way through his own concert and looked great doing it, 10/10. but i also love just how much he clearly loves his job and meeting other idols and getting to go on tv shows and learn new things about people and the world LOL a giant puppy of a man

TXT's Soobin - speaking of giant puppy men, this is one of my Large Son's Whom I Adore. my fave thing about soobin is that he's like. never held more than a single thought in his head at one time, and everyone he has ever met adores him? like every 4th gen group has a member who is just completely enamoured with soobin, and soobin does not appear to have done anything in particular to have earned this other than being a big guy who likes anime and hedgehogs. i also enjoy how everyone in his group agreed that he needed to be the leader, especially the guys (yeonjun and taehyun) who might have preferred to be the leader themselves, specifically because they knew giving it to the guy who didn't want it the way that they did would probably be a better outcome for the group. amazing head empty man. he's so tall.

Zerobaseone's Hanbin - something is wrong with this man (positive) (fond). no uh, this is a man who has gone to great lengths to change both his physical appearance and personal affect in order to take one last shot at achieving his kpop dreams and something is wrong with ME for how feral this makes me. another guy in the 'legibly queer' column (as in, he was a competitive waacker and faggy as hell doing it lmfao like, sure i'm sure there are straight guys who waack but at a certain point you're allowed to start assuming Gay instead of defaulting Straight ok). he is a control freak. he said his favourite type of person is someone who is competent but pretends not to be so that he can do things instead. one time he was so horrified by his member wearing socks on the bed that he REMOVED THAT BOY'S SOCKS FOR HIM? ON CAMERA? HANBIN WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU

WayV's Kun - the dad to end all dads. i have endless leader feelings about this man, who is the leader of SM's final push to conquer the China market that was actually going really well until [redacted], and suddenly Kun is the leader of a group that has members in different countries, that cannot promote in China while the pandemic is going on and cannot promote in Chinese while in Korea. technically WayV is under the umbrella of the broader NCT group, but xenophobia will have stans staying 'they just don't vibe for some reason'. this man's group was shelved for over a year due to international geopolitics and he held it and them together admirably, and it's been SO good to see WayV employed in 2023 and gaining momentum again. also he can fly a plane ( a real one), somehow made PUBG hot by being very good at it, and one time he was live and you just heard from the background one of his members yelling from the shower KUN GE THERE'S NO HOT WATER, like, every man in this group just has it hard wired into their brain that if there is a problem, kun ge will fix it. and he does.

honestly i could probably go for longer, there are a lot of boys i have a lot of feelings about s o b.

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hekateinhell · 2 years ago

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GUESS who just finished reading your latest magum opus? ME FAM, DA!!! Transformative experience from start to finish, I’d missed reading your stuff SO much. So evocative, so vivid, so sensual. Felt like coming back home after a long trip, like cool breeze in my hair. I lived, I died, I lived again.

First of all, the flower motifs were there right from the start (and I might’ve spoiled myself a lil with you latest post), but when it dawned on me what Armand was about to do to Lestat I was like OH MY GOD SHE DID THAT and I had to put my phone down for a minute. The chokehold these bitches (and you) (affectionate) have me on is insane.

Again, perfection from start to finish, so here are my top 10 moments in no particular order, hopefully it makes sense (literally just finished it so I’m not really coherent rn)

*drum roll* 🥁 🥁 🥁

1. “Yes, yes, let me be your co-conspirator. Tell me your secrets! I'll keep them all, good or bad – place them in a box and swallow the key, no one else will ever know.” INSANITY. The devil’s minion till the very end alright.

2. “Daniel could've sworn he felt the blood rush through his retromandibular vein, every cell alive and awakened and thrilling at the closeness of its source and exhilarating at the thought of returning to its original host.” INSANITY X2. And also it’s such a wonderful callback to that one bit in QotD where it’s mentioned that all of Daniel’s “molecules were dancing with Armand’s invisible chemistry”. It DO be like that with them. Down bad for Armand on a chemical level, and you got that across so incredibly well. YOU GET IT.

3. Armand noticing right away that Lestat hadn’t shaved and worrying if something might be wrong because why wouldn’t Lestat shave before flying to see him? Was Lestat telling the truth there? Was he aching for Armand’s company so badly that he didn’t have it in him to shave? Of course Armand would notice and of course he would worry.

4. “Daniel had worn a black cursive A right over his left pelvic bone for the remainder of his mortal days.” EXACTLY. There’s absolutely no way this didn’t happen.

5. "And how would you have me, maestro?" Lestat inquired. His knee bouncing as he leaned back against the table, crossing his arms over his chest. Daniel didn't have to read Armand's mind to know that the immediate answer might be, "In so many ways," yes ma’am 🥵🥵🥵

6. “Lestat was at the perfect height for Armand to stand between his legs, a hand over each knee, as he bent his head to Lestat's chest and closed his mouth over a rosy nipple. He suckled at it for a moment before angling his head, and Daniel realized what Armand had done when he saw the grimace on Lestat's face.” god this is so hot. You didn’t even HAVE to write it but I can guarantee that every single person who reads that will be able to picture Armand’s fang piercing through Lestat’s nipple vividly. The writer that you are 🥹

7. “It had to be said—it has been said—Lestat was a large man” THERE IT IS, Priapus makes its grand entrance. Love to see it, always.

8. Daniel’s possessiveness??? Have you awoken a new kink in me?? It’s not like I didn’t think Daniel was possessive of Armand before, I did, but the way you had him contemplating the scene before him in awe but ALSO on so many different levels did something to me. He knows he’s no match for Lestat but he has A FEW things going for him and he’s going to let Lestat know about them, damn the consequences. He’s careless and immediately regrets it but he can’t help himself. He even resents the fact that Lestat didn’t bother removing his rings before touching Armand. Yet he guides him through it and desperately wants for Armand to enjoy this. He’s such a good boyfriend pls, always has been 😭😭😭

9. Armand being like “I THINK THE FUCK NOT” when Lestat offered Daniel a taste of his blood, so good. Lestat puts out so easily (figuratively but also literally and good for him tbh) while for Armand it’s such a sacred thing and he’s not about to let his only baby drink from another (not even their prince) like it’s no big deal. But also YES @ both of them eating Armand’s ass and Daniel getting a taste of Lestat that way. You truly put that out there and you should be proud 🥹

10. "We could simulate it sometime” yes they could and they SHOULD godddd part two incoming y/y?

I honestly could go on but I think I’ve made myself clear now lmao. It was magnificent, comeback of all time from one of my all time fave vc queens xoxo DA ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

DA!!

Lovely to see you as always 💖 I was wondering what you would think of this one — my 9lbs. 9k baby. It's May, it's spring, I'm in my flower era and I'm dragging everyone along with me!

It was all about the flowers lmao that scene stressed me out more than anything because it's the... set-up for the rest of the fic??? Armand conveying his affections for Lestat in a very intimate way—using his art—but it's low risk in a sense because the physical evidence is gone the next day. Anyway, I thought tattoos would be cool to play with because I've never seen that come up in VC fic before and Anne said they could have tattoos even it's just temporary, okay? I'm gonna exploit that!

Haha you gave me an ao3 style comment so I'm going to work through it ao3 style 🖤

Yes, this is so important to me when I think about post-canon A/D! I need them to have the elements of their OG dynamics but healthier and improved.

IT'S LIKE PHEROMONES WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW 🥵

omg okay you're the only so far who's commented on me giving Lestat some stubble and it was so important to me 🤧 I cannot express the sound I made when I realized that canon doesn't specifically tell us if he wakes up completely clean-shaven, or if it's part of his grooming routine like filing his nails every night in IWTV. I threw in a bit of my meta re: Magnus and Lestat's turning and well there you go — it's my story and I'm sticking to it. And as usual, you're right on the money... Lestat DID want Armand to notice because he knows Armand's caregiver tendencies with his loved ones. And then he got mad about it when Armand reacted accordingly and read him to the filth. Can't win with this guy. 😔

I believe with my whole heart Daniel was walking around with an A or even a Property of Armand tattoo on a private area from 1977 to 1985. I've said before it and I wrote it now and I'll do it again, don't test me.

Daniel being an expert on Armand comes in handy all the time, and he's officially known since 1985 how down bad for Lestat Armand has been. RIP. I also wonder how many times Armand randomly mentioned Lestat to his boyfriend during DM era aside from the Rutger Hauer moment. There's no way it was just the one time.

I loved writing that bit! In my head you could almost hear the soft sounds of Armand making those little bites into Lestat's nipples and I tried so hard to translate that onto the page. 🥹

Legit I'm one more smut fic away from tagging Lestat's dick as it's own character: Priapus (Vampire Chronicles). I'm not joking, I'm such an unserious person lmao

YES you get it! I feel like a lot of times we think Daniel would just be totally down for everything no questions asked, but like talking about the evolved DM dynamic earlier — now Daniel has all this knowledge of Armand's history with Lestat that he didn't have before. He's an understanding guy and he's open to a lot, but it's a very complex situation and I think it's natural that some feelings will come up here and there in the early days. Also, I left it ambiguous on purpose, but it's not clear just how much Daniel was in on regarding Armand's plan here. Was it something they discussed prior, like in explicit detail with the date marked on the calendar and circled in red? Did Armand plan to get that far in the first place or was it a surprise to him as much as it was to Daniel? Or was it kind of inevitable... "Yeah, get these guys in a room for the 50th time in 200 years and this time, they're gonna fuck"?

asjkgfasgk that was exactly Armand's thought process - fucked out and high with Lestat's blood in his ass, and all he can think is that Lestat better not touch his husband/baby unless Armand's ordering him to. The audacity, only Lestat fr 🤧 I got creative with vampire anatomy there and ~membranes~ and yk what I'll do it again it's free real estate

100% (now I just need something else to get meta about so I can write porn around it, it's the only way I know how to operate 🥲)

I wrote so much here lol I'm embarrassed but full transparency, it might not have been an angsty or heavy fic (and it was never supposed to be!), but I did pour myself into it and it makes my heart happy you enjoyed it! 😭🌸

#now wish me luck tackling my mermay fic please #i swear i'm going to be so mad at myself if i get through may without writing Lestat Fucking That Fish #dungeon anon #you ask and hekate answers #fic: the language of flowers

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