#more or may not have already ordered samples

[tsuyonpuu]

you know my brainrot is really bad when I'm starting to think about making plushies...

[baravaggio]

[ceilidho]

'still wakes the deep' au

prompt: You're an environmental scientist conducting research on an off-shore oil rig with only a few days left before you're slated to leave. The eldritch creature they accidentally awaken throws a wrench in the works. Trouble Brewing masterlist

-

“Shit,” you huff, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms over your chest, annoyance bleeding into your words as your frustration finally comes to a boil. 

“What’s th’ matter?” Roper, another rig worker, asks. He’s taken to sitting with you in the lounge whenever his breaks line up with yours, one of the few men to not treat you with barely concealed disdain. You can't deny that it's nice to have company.

“Nothing—I think I may have accidentally contaminated the samples. None of this looks right.” 

By this, you mean the papers spread out on the coffee table in front of you—print-outs of the water sample analyses. You’ve been staring at them for far too long, eyes practically burning after your tenth consecutive read through. 

Almost everything in the sample analysis looks off. The alkalinity, the pH, the temperature, the CO2 and H2S levels—even the microbiological parameters are far exceeded. At some point, you must have accidentally contaminated the samples; only in a worse case scenario, such as a massive oil leak, would you expect to see numbers like these, and you would know if that were the case. It would be immediately obvious not only by the distress spreading like a miasma through the rig, but simply by looking at the water crashing against the jacket legs beneath you. 

There’s something else too. Something in the samples that you’ve never seen before—almost like a faint iridescence to the water, a shimmer so light that it’s almost not perceptible to your eye. 

So it can’t be that. You must’ve done something wrong when collecting your samples from the discharge point. It’s frustrating to know that the work you’ve done so far has been basically for nothing, seeing as how you’ll have to do it all over again in order to get a fresh batch of samples, but you just remind yourself that these things happen. It could always be worse. 

A reminder of that appears right before your eyes when a guy on the other side of the lounge opens his trap and says to Roper, “Ye hear about MacTavish?”

Your ears perk up. Roper must notice because he just grins. “Na—what happened?”

The other man whistles through his teeth. “‘Twas a shit storm. Heard about it from O’Connor.”

“Och, spit it out, will ye? Quit keeping us in suspense.” 

“A’richt, just dinnae tell him ah tellt ye—‘ah swear he’ll take someone's head off at this rate.”

The men whisper and titter about it all afternoon—how MacTavish got dragged into the rig manager’s office and ripped into over some offshore antics (fightin’—near broke a guy’s jaw for mouthing off tae him, one crew member tells you surreptitiously, again reinforcing the gossiping hen opinion you’d already formed of them). You’re not exactly shocked by the news, but the quiet that comes over the rig in his absence is a bit jarring. 

Coming across him in the aftermath of the incident is, however, far more shocking. 

You see him first from across the mess scowling into his food, a dark cloud hanging over him. His usual roguish countenance is swapped for something more choleric, foul-tempered. It’s incongruous with the image you have of him in your head, the one that sees him as eternally cheery; cocksure and braggadocious. 

Roper warns you in no uncertain terms to give Soap a wide berth if you happen to come across him.

You cock a brow at that. “You think he’d hurt someone?”

“Na, tis nae like that. It wasn’y his fault that someone else wanted tae have a pissing contest. The lad’s just got an ill temper is all. He’ll gallus aff eventually—juist best nae tae git in his way until then.” 

No sense in trying to decipher what he means by that. You have a job to do anyway and the issue with your samples weighs far more heavily on your mind than Soap’s bad mood. 

Still, you recognize it as a distant cause for concern. Every so often it dawns on you how far you are from civilization—out in the middle of the North sea, surrounded by nothing but waves and men with voracious appetites. You grit your teeth and bear a lot as it is; unsavory comments and blatant stares, the kind of thing that registers as an ever present, unsung threat that you are impelled to ignore lest it be mentioned. Lest it be given a name.  

Soap’s bad mood might not be something you have to worry about, but still you acknowledge that you should probably keep your distance for the time being. At least until his pride is mended and he’s back to his old self. 

These days, you’re never allowed what you want though.

You’re around the bend of a hallway when you hear him coming, his distinctive thick brogue snapping at another crew member. Though your heart immediately starts pounding against your chest, there’s nothing you can do; the corridor behind you is too long to run back down without being seen and there aren’t any rooms to sneak into and use as cover. All you can do is stand there with your heart in your throat as he gets closer and closer. 

The sharp dogleg in the hall keeps him from seeing you until he’s already on you, nearly plowing into you before catching himself at the last minute, a big hand slamming against the wall beside you to stop him mid-step. You flinch despite anticipating him. 

“Jesus, bonnie, I didn’y see ye there. Make a bit o’ noise or somethin’,” Soap says, more brusque than he’s ever spoken to you before. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, attempting to sidestep him. 

“Ach, wait, ‘ah dinnae mean tae snap. Where are ye off tae?” he asks, stepping with you to the right so that you can’t pass around him. He’s quick enough that you walk straight into him, crushing your nose against his chest and wincing when you take a step back and wriggle it out. A hand clamps down on your shoulder to keep you from scurrying off any farther. 

“Um…I have some things to do.”

“Things?” he repeats, waiting for you to elaborate.

“I have work. Didn’t mean to get in your way.”

“Ah’m no’ an animal, bonnie; ye dinnae have to run off jus’ because ah’m in a mood.”

“I’m not running off—I really do have work to do, Soap. That’s why I’m here, remember?” You realize that he must like it when you get snippy with him because the second you do, his lips stretch into a grin, blue eyes glinting. 

“Want some help?” he asks. 

“Um…” 

Irritation clouds his expression. “Ah’m no’ gonna flip out if that’s what yer worried about. That shit with Rennick had nothing tae do with my work.”

That shifts the guilt around in you and gives it a bigger hole to wedge itself in. “…Sure. I guess I could use a hand.” 

“Now, ye aren't just asking tae make me feel better, are ye? ‘Cause ah’m a big boy; I willnae cry if ye let me down gently.”

“Oh my god, Soap, do you want to help me or not?” you snap. 

His grin widens, a new little mischievous furl to it. “Well, ye dinnae have tae beg, bonnie. Ah’d be happy tae help ye out.”

Of course it was nothing but a ploy for him to rile you up and get you to be the one to ask for help. 

Back to the discharge point to collect fresh water samples. Soap doesn’t stop talking the whole walk, the onslaught of questions about your personal life and his own life offshore enough to make your ears ring. No chance of peace and quiet—not with him around, anyway. 

On your way up a flight of stairs, you peek back at him to find him climbing with his hands on both railings. You’re not sure if it’s to keep you from slipping away or to keep himself stable, but if you were a bettor, you know which you’d pick. 

Soap grins toothily up at you. You roll your eyes in response and turn back around, climbing up the last few steps. The ocean’s ever tempestuous winds howl in the distance. 

For all your initial reluctance to let him help you, he proves to be a pretty useful assistant, helping you flush the sample point beforehand and then holding your equipment as you carefully fill and cap each sample bottle. 

He’s such a help in fact, that part of you feels a bit guilty for the way you treated him earlier. Like a ticking time bomb. Wouldn’t you also be upset after being told off by your boss? You have the luxury of not really reporting to anyone on the rig—so long as you send your boss daily updates on the progress of your work and follow safety and security regulations on the rig, you never worry about being reprimanded. Certainly not yelled at. 

You’re also surrounded by strangers for the most part, which, while sometimes alienating, also means that you’re not particularly invested in what anyone has to say about you. These aren’t your coworkers. In a couple weeks’ time, you’ll be flown back to shore and you’ll never see any of them ever again. 

The walk back to your room-cum-office is different. Soap follows behind you quietly for a change, your additional samples in hand, and only the sound of his steel-toed boots clanging against the floor remind you that he’s still with you. You didn’t think he had it in him to stay quiet for so long. 

He follows in after you when you reach your room, not bothering to wait outside like anyone with common sense would. It would be more aggravating if he weren’t so handsome. It’s hard to look at him and hold on to any real anger though. 

“I—uh—I’m sorry you had a rough day,” you finally manage to blurt out. 

He must eye you dubiously because you can feel the weight of his gaze. Not like he doesn’t understand what you’re referring to, but more like he doesn’t quite trust your sincerity. 

“Ah must’ve been bonny crabby for ye tae apologize for that asshole,” he teases. You can tell through the joke that even now his pride is a little stung that you brought it up at all.  

If his temper weren’t so volatile, you might actually be tempted to spend more time with him. You have to shake that thought away as soon as it comes to you though; you won’t be on the rig for much longer anyway. 

“What’d you do anyway?” you blurt out, immediately thinking better of your words when Soap’s face darkens, nostrils flaring the slightest bit. “Sorry, that was—don’t answer that.”

“Nah, it’s no’—” he pauses, sucking air in between his teeth. “It’s no’ a secret or anythin’. Got myself mixed up in some bad shit, but it’s over, ah swear. Told Rennick that it wasnae anythin’ tae worry about, but he gave me hell anyway.” 

“He seems like a dick,” you say in consolation. 

“Aye,” Soap laughs. 

He waits until you’ve packed all your samples away before opening his mouth again. 

“Ye ken what would really make me feel better, bonnie?”

You glance over at him suspiciously, bracing yourself for something crass. You can feel it brewing—the culmination of days worth of purred words and heady glances, his interest so blatant that ignoring it feels almost pointless. He lays it on thick enough that you’d have to be blind not to have picked up on it. 

So, it catches you off guard when instead of making a licentious comment, he just sighs, “Ah could really use a hug.”

That’s—that’s a bit more reasonable than what you had anticipated. Surprising enough for you to lower your hackles and turn to face him. 

He holds his arms out in invitation, face expectant. That nearly makes you cringe before you catch yourself. You’ve been caught in this trap before—your tentative kindness leveraged for physical affection; pushing your boundaries at the first sign of weakness, like waging a siege on you—and even though your teeth itch with the urge to snap at him, it just doesn’t feel worth it. Easier just to capitulate and give what he wants. Just this once. 

Besides, it’s just a hug. 

His arms fold around you the second you step into them, constricting around your waist like two steel bands holding you in place. He hugs tight too, not an inch of space between your bodies, your breasts flush with his chest. Toes practically scraping the ground, lifted up by the strength of his arms. 

The blood rushes to your head. Weak kneed. It’s almost a blessing that Soap’s arms are holding you up. Every inch of your body feels electrified, nerves spitting hot fire; even your scalp tingles when he rests his chin on your crown. You don’t like to think about it—how little anyone touches you these days and how starved your body is for it. Even offshore, you haven’t dated in so long that it seems almost incomprehensible now that you’ve ever dated anyone before.

He groans into your hair, lost in his own head. One of his hands curves up and around your back until it cups over your shoulder, anchoring you even tighter to his chest. You can feel the bulge of every muscle, the tensile strength vibrating under his skin, and it’s only then that you realize that he’s shaking. 

The other thing you can’t ignore is the weight of his dick pressing into you. Your eyes bulge when you realize you can feel it thicken with blood against your belly. Even through the material of his pants, you can tell that it’s big. 

“Christ, bonnie,” Soap whines, pulling you somehow even tighter to him, nearly cutting off your breath. “Yer so fucking soft.”

“Soap—” you squeak. “Okay, I think that’s—I’ve—I’ve got work to do—”

You tense when his free hand drifts down your back and settles right over your ass. 

“Soap—” you hiss, then yelp when his hand drops even more and his fingers into a soft, fleshy cheek and he grinds his hips into your belly. You’re not sure if he’s even aware of what he’s doing, his hug devolving into something coarse and almost sexual. 

You reach a hand up to grab him by the jaw and push his head away, struggling feebly in his hold until his arms finally give a little and you’re able to wriggle out, scampering back until you’ve put some distance between the two of you. 

When you meet Soap’s eyes, you have to fight the urge to flinch. It takes him a second to regain control of himself, slack-jawed and hungry-eyed until he blinks and it starts to melt away. His chest heaves with his ragged breath. He looks every bit like a man that just got kicked out of bed before finishing, dick still hard in his pants. 

“Sorry, bonnie. Ah got a little carried away,” he says apologetically, eyes so round that they almost make him look puppyish. 

“It’s fine.” 

It’s not fine. You’re still shaky and your thighs are suspiciously damp and you’re fairly sure all the blood in your body has rushed to your face because your cheeks feel like they’re on fire, but you also don’t want to acknowledge the obvious. The outline of his dick straining against his pant leg. The dark flush on his cheekbones and his glazed over eyes. The way you have to fight the urge not to stare at the fabric of his jumpsuit tight around his thighs and biceps. 

“Ah’ll, uh…ah’ll see ye later then.” He takes a step back, then another, waiting maybe for you to say something. For you to tell him that it’s alright to stay. 

You smile tightly instead, ignore the urge to call him back to you. Your smile only drops when he closes the door behind him. 

There’s trouble brewing. You can feel it swelling up like a wave, ready to crash into you.

Under you, you can feel the rig shift with the water and in the distance, something howls.

[writersdrug]

Thinking about Simon with a goth! gf, and introducing his team to you.

Warnings: cursing, very slight nsfw, pda

Typed this up on my lunch break, not thoroughly proofread, ending is meh but it's been rotting in my brain so I had to push it out. Feel free to send me asks about this headcannon, I'd love to write more about it! <3

Simon insists on dragging his team to the nearest pub after a particularly rough day, offering to buy then a round of whiskey. They are all reluctant at first, complaining about aching backs and heads, and Price saying that the missus was expecting him.

Then Simon mumbles something about how his girl would've loved to meet them.

"Yer wha' now?"

"My girl."

Suddenly, Gaz's headache is gone. "Must've just been dehydrated, I suppose." Soap's back feels much better, after being able to sit in the car for just- five minutes, now. And Price? Apparently, the missus was at a dinner raffle for her charity- thing, and he'd just now remembered.

So, drinks and a quick bite at the pub you worked at. It was settled.

Simon leads them in shortly after parking the truck. The other three quickly scan the room for anyone who stands out. As Simon brings them to a booth in the back, they all take a seat, heads on a swivel for some pretty thing to come bouncing over and latch herself onto him.

"Gonna hit the head." Simon says. "I'll put our drinks in- she'll bring 'em over, she'll be done with 'er shift soon."

As he leaves, Soap, Gaz, and Price all sit there in a few moments of observatory silence. It's much harder to sample the crowd, they realize, since there's apparently no dress code for the servers. Johnny eyes each person like a hawk, until he sees a potential pick.

"Tha' one." He says, nodding towards a busty, long-legged blonde. Price and Gaz follow his line of sight to her as she leans against the bar, playing with her hair and laughing at something her friend says. Her bootcut jeans and frilly top accentuate her curves, and it's obvious that every man in her vicinity is ogling. "Twenty on 'er. Seems like he'd be into swimsuit models, eh?"

Gaz humms, scrunching his nose disapprovingly. "Nah, mate- too simple."

"Feck is simple 'bout 'er?"

"I mean for Simon." Gaz corrects Soap. "Don't think he'd want someone so... ditzy- no offense to her." He adds. "I think he wants a girl who can hold her own, in the physical and the figurative sense. Someone..." he narrows his eyes, searching through the crowd of people. "Like her."

He discretely points to a woman across the bar. She's playing darts with a few people, and hits the bullseye perfectly just as Soap and Price look her way. Her tank top and cargo pants show how defined, yet lean her muscles are. She looks like she could last a few decent minutes in a brawl. "I bet on her."

"Well I'll raise ye forty - I ken LT wants someone more... passive."

"Forty it is, then. I'd love to have you pay my bill tonight."

"If I may..." Price chimes in, leaning against the back of the booth with a smug look, arms folded over his chest, "I'd love to get in on this little game o' yours, and walk away with eighty pounds t'night - because you're both wrong."

Soap smirks. "And how's tha', Cap?"

Price smooths his fingers over his mutton chops. "Well, for starters, I'm a bit ashamed o' you boys. Neither of those girls actually work here, do they? Mm?"

Gaz groans, letting his head drop against the wall behind him. It takes Soap another moment, but then he remembers Simon saying this was where you worked. The whole point of them going to this specific pub was because you'd already be here, on the clock.

"Shite..." he mumbles.

"Alright, sir." Gaz says defeatedly. "Lay it on us."

Price leans his elbows on the table and points his finger straight ahead; Gaz and Soap both follow it to the bar, where a sweet-looking girl is punching orders into a server tablet. She has long, silky, red hair, and a petite frame. She smiles so kindly at every patron who speaks to her, and when she makes their drinks, she is quick with it, still engaging in conversation as she shakes the mixer with a powerful arm. Despite the crowd, she seems to be managing fine on her own.

"Her." Price says, tucking his hand back onto the table. "Y' see that face? The way she talks to 'em all? How she's soft and tough at the same time? Imagine that birdie tucked under his wing, eh?"

Soap and Gaz can imagine it. She's a cute little thing, a social butterfly, it seems - the perfect polar opposite to Simon that just might be the perfect fit.

"And I know he's got a thing for redheads." Price adds.

"Piss off, how d'ye ken tha'?" Soap grumbles.

Price shrugs. "Call it intuition."

Simon comes around the corner, carrying several glasses of neat whiskey. "Sorry-" he says, setting a glass in front of Price, and handing out the others as he sits down on the end of the booth. "She's on 'er way now."

"No worries." Price says, trying to hide his smirk. "Didn't know y' were into redheads, Simon."

Simon pauses, looking down at the table in confusion - then he chuckles. "Yeah, s'pose I am. How did y' know? Did she come by already?"

Price laughs. "No, son. We were just sayin'-"

"Hey baby!"

You turn the corner and lean down, squealing as you throw your arms around Simon's neck and kiss him. The other three look on with shock, and Soap is about ready to throw this random woman off of Simon, until he holds you just as tightly and kisses you back.

Price's smirk falls right onto the table when he realizes that he is just as wrong as the other two.

You're Simon's bird. Simon's raven. Black, styled hair, with black lipstick that is currently smudging Simon's chin. You have a choker - no, several chokers, wrapped around your neck, as well as a tiny corked bottle filled with red liquid that makes Soap and Gaz nervous, dangling from a chain. Long, black-painted fingernails, with small spiderwebs decorating the tips, caressing his face and the back of his neck. Your arms and legs are covered with torn fishnets and small tattoos, and you're wearing a black number with a corset, paired with studded Doc Martin's.

You finally pull away and look at the rest of them. "Sorry- nice to finally meet the lot of you." You say, shaking each one of their hands. Your eyes are striking, with full, dark lashes, eyeliner, and red contacts. Gages and a bull ring, too. Soap feels a shiver run up his spine when he looks at you head on, and Gaz hasn't picked his jaw up off the floor since you came around.

"Erm-" Price clears his throat, "pardon us- call me John. This is Kyle, and Johnny." He gestures to the other two, still watching you with a mix of curiosity and awe.

"I've heard so much about you. It's good to put names to the face." You say with a smile, shaking the other two's hands. Gaz manages to smile a bit, but Soap has the same shocked expression plastered onto his face.

Simon has a love-drunk, black-smudged smile on his lips as you sit down in his lap. "She's been wantin' t' meet you all for a while, now. Sorry I kept 'er a secret."

"To be fair, I'm usually hard to find." You say, grabbing a napkin and wiping the lipstick off Simon's face. "I'm either here, at class, or roaming around and people-watching... at night, of course. People are more interesting when it's dark out." You traced a fingernail along his jugular as he stared up at you.

"John 'ere knew you were a redhead."

"How?! Oh my god- are my roots showing?"

"Nah, luvie, he's just observant. 'S our job." Simon places a kiss to your forehead. You smiled, leaning into the kiss.

"Oh, kitchen's about to close. You wanna split a burger, Si?"

"Sure, get what you like."

"'S no onions ok?"

"Fine w' me - chips?"

"You know it." You giggle, making a show of squishing his cheek and biting it. You turn to the rest of his team with a smile. "You boys hungry?"

Price is the first one to speak, taking a heavy breath in, causing Soap and Gaz to finally snap out of their trance. "Erm- whatever you get, we'll do the same. On us tonight."

"Oooh, you sure?" You asked, raising your eyebrows. Simon looked at Price curiously.

"You positive, cap?"

Price nodded. "Lost a bet."

Simon looks even more concerned. You pat his shoulder and stand up. "I'll go punch it in, be right back." You give him a peck on the cheek, and begin to walk away - Simon's attention returns to you as he hooks a finger in the chain choker around your neck and tugs you back.

Soap, Gaz, and Price all watch, stupefied, as you land back in Simon's lap with a giggle. He grabs your chin between his thick fingers and kisses you on the lips, shamelessly letting his tongue slide past your teeth and squeezing your thigh. You laugh into the kiss, letting him devour you for a moment, before tapping his cheek and breaking away.

"I got fifteen minutes to put everyone's order in, Si."

"That's plenty of time, dove."

"Yeah, but then kitchen will get mad for doing it last minute, and I don't want-"

He chuckles, gently shoving out off of his lap and smacking your rump through your skirt. "You're fine, go on."

You smile, then disappear behind the booth, boots thudding against the hardwood floors.

Simon looks back at the three of them - Soap is staring between you and him, a blush covering his face. Gaz immediately turns to look at the wall, scratching his chin, and Price is gazing into his whiskey, though there's a lingering surprise in his eyes.

"So- what bet?" Simon asks, adjusting his hips; Soap notices his hand reaching down to palm at the fabric over his groin. "I don' remember bettin' nothin'."

"We weren't bettin' on ye pullin' her out ye pockets, LT." Soap comments, trying to avoid Simon's eyes. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out forty pounds, slapping it onto the table.

"It makes sense..." Gaz, chimes in. "With your whole skeleton look, she fits you."

Simon slowly smiles, understanding what they had bet on. "Oh... I see. Lemme guess - you thought I's with someone more... simple? Lile that blonde at the bar, is tha' right?"

"Tha's what I said!!" Soap exclaims, dropping his fist to the table. "You got te give me credit fer pointin' t' a swimsuit model first, aye?"

"Oh- because every bloke on earth is shallow enough to care about swimsuit models." Gaz scoffs. "I at least picked someone who didn't look so bloody helpless." He gestures to the girl playing darts with her friends. "You don't even know if the other girl's a model."

"Well, one can imagine..."

"Feel as though I's the closest..." Price mutters under his breath, making the other two glare at him.

"Ye were not."

"Get off your high horse, cap-"

"Well- try this." Simon leans on his forearms with a smug look on his face. "My bird? She's a model, and she's a black-belt in Judo, and-" he looks at Price- "she's a natural redhead."

They all look between Simon and you, as you stand behind the bar and punch their orders in, laughing with the other redhead. Their eyes would drop onto the table if they were any wider.

"You sly dog-" Gas comments with a chuckle.

"I don' believe ye." Soap says, crossing his arms. "Wha' kind o' model?"

"Lingerie."

Price chokes on his whiskey.

"Bullshit." Soap snaps. "Pictures or ye lyin'."

"Nah." Simon sighs, leaning back in his seat and daking a sip of his whiskey. "Not the ones I have, at least. But pick up the last "Bloodletting" magazine, and she's there."

They all sit there, a bit dumbfounded, watching you walk back to the booth. How on earth did someone like Simon land someone like you?

Simon's full of surprises, even in his personal life.

[fatuismooches]

A compilation of a few notes in no particular order written by two odd scholars found by the Traveler on their journey throughout Sumeru. Some of the words have been crossed out or lost to time, making them illegible.

Forgotten Note (found in the desert inside a huge Ruin Golem)

[A page torn from someone's notebook that seems to be hastily written and forgotten.]

... I can't believe what I've just witnessed. We spent DAYS traveling out here to the desert because Zandik wanted to tinker with that huge robot for ages. Me too of course, but that's not the point. Here he was just a few moments ago, brimming with excitement at being able to pilot it. It was cute...

... And then not even a minute later, he was hunched over, clutching his stomach and mouth. I was initially concerned, but he merely waved me off and began writing at the speed of light, still holding back the urge to throw up. And that's when I realized this fool was ███-███...

... Zandik was going to give it one more go but I quickly stopped him. I wasn't about to have him getting sicker than he already was. Tried to fight me on it but he was dizzy enough to take himself out. He's currently grumbling at me in the corner, but he'll get over it...

... Silly man, he let me put his head on my lap while he rested. Good thing I packed some light snacks... but note to self: for the foreseeable future, don't let Zandik into any kind of transportation. Hopefully, he'll outgrow it one day though...

—

Zandik's Note (found on the edge of Sumeru near Fontaine)

[A short note containing idle thoughts - the lack of importance may have caused it to be discarded.]

... There is an area in the desert that provides a clear and close view of the neighboring nation, Fontaine. [Name] insisted on showing me it as we happened to be close by...

... I'm not particularly interested in that land, but there are some things that may be worth looking into. [Name], however, wants to get academic leave to do some research there - more truthfully, they want to try out the macarons. How typical of them...

I suppose it's not the worst idea. They are an excellent partner, plus the extra ███ would be useful for my ███ research, and I'd make sure those people would never know...

... Regardless, there's no rush. Perhaps one day we can go...

—

[Name]'s Observation Log - Page 34-35 (found in the rainforest inside a tree hollow)

[A page torn from an observation log wedged deep inside a tree, preserving a little bit of its contents - it seems the writer wanted to hide it.]

... Day 1 of my first expedition with Zandik. Of course, every course comes with a dreaded group project but I am happy to be paired with him. Zandik, however, not so much. He's barely spoken to me the whole time. Well, he barely speaks to anyone in general, guess that's part of the reason other students refer to him as ███ ███. But I literally live with him, don't I deserve some special privilege?...

... Day 2 of my first expedition with Zandik. I looked a bit at his notes last night so I could start drafting the research report, but then he snatched them away when he noticed. He's extra grumpy at me now. I wonder what kind of things he writes about...

... Day 3 of my first expedition with Zandik. We've gotten a lot of stuff done but he seems far more interested in ███ than looking at plants. There's this one ruin in the distance he keeps eyeing. I bet if I wasn't here, he'd be there. If I present him with a ███ ███ of each type, would he finally talk to me? Hmm, that'd be hard to hide from the sages though...

... Day 4 of my first expedition with Zandik. I lied and said there was a better spot to get samples and brought him to that ruin. Long story short and after a lot of annoyed Zandik later, we made it in. When the killing machines awakened, it seemed he had a bright idea and had begun instructing me to hit them in a very precise way. Well, he certainly knows how to use someone efficiently... After all of that, all of a sudden he had found his voice and began shooting off orders to fetch this tool or that textbook and so on. Never got a thank you but he compensated with some loud, excited mumbles...

... Day 5 of my first expedition with Zandik. Thanks to Zandik actually doing his share of the work, we finished the fieldwork quickly. I showed him what I had so far and he seemed pleasantly surprised, although his expression was still flat. As we worked, he wasn't as talkative as he was yesterday, but the silence wasn't awkward like before. Well, as long as I get paired with Zandik, I think I'll survive this semester, and it'll be a bonus if he warms up to me. Speaking of warming up to me, Zandik wants to come back to the ruin we went to yesterday - with me too!!!!! It'll be our little secret that no one will find out. I think I got on his good side a bit, he looks cute when he's smiling. His teeth are even sharper up close.....

—

Nearly Torn Note (found inside an ancient book in the House of Daena)

[A small paper that has nearly been ripped in half, but some of the words are still cohesive.]

... I ███ them. Why are they here? I told them I did not need help, nor was I interested in assisting them. But they're here anyway. Of course they are. When are they not? Is there ever a moment when they're not constantly chirping in my ear? No, of course not. I'm ███ to live with them after all...

... With their ███ smell wafting through the dorm after a shower, or the scent of their cooking that they specially make ███ ███...

... Their stupid voice is prattling away right now, and I ███ how I do ███ find it irritating. My mind seems to automatically ███ ███ anything their ███ mouth says...

... I found their touch repulsive, but now I ███ for them to...

... There is something wrong with ███...

[At the bottom lays a tiny doodle of someone, presumably the person who occupied Zandik's mind, and has been intensely scratched off.]

—

Collaborative Note (found in an old camp near the woods)

[An abandoned note that appears to be written by two people. The top half is messily written and smudged thanks to the large amount of ink spills and blots. The second half is neater but the writer seems to have given up.]

... My ███ is a ███. Thanks to ███ help, we were able to acquire numerous ███ to help with the ███ ███. Were it not for them, there could have been a great ███ in my ███...

--------------------------

...Alright, that's it. Zandik is banned from writing notes now. I'm drawing the line. I bought five pens with us, and he has broken four of them so far. It's barely been a few hours! I still don't know how he does it- okay well now he's tapping me impatiently to write down his thoughts. Best get on it before he breaks this one and starts using ███ as ink...

...After a series of ███ were conducted, it has been concluded that it may be ███ for a ███ ███ to be ███-███. Wait... all the ink is on my hand now! And it smudged more!! Ugh!!!...

... I'm going to start forcing him to wear gloves... he's getting his inked hands all over me... at least we can shower ███!...

—

Paimon and the Traveler reviewed the notes they found contemplatingly - it was definitely not all of them, considering how hidden many of them were - but they found themselves oddly intrigued by the multitude of notes left by these two characters. Paimon was more interested in the love story part.

"You know, Paimon's not too sure... she's getting some mixed vibes from Zandik here... he seems kind of a big meanie to [Name] to be honest!" The Traveler watched in amusement as Paimon got grumpy on your behalf.

"... But he does seem to lighten up sometimes. Maybe he's not as bad as we think. Guess we can't piece together their relationships just from some notes, eh?"

"Well, Paimon thinks they seemed like a cute couple, well, minus for some things. Mostly, um... Zandik's oddness which you can't really excuse but I guess it's okay because they're long dead! Still, [Name] sure had strange taste in men..."

[silkjade]

alhaitham x mermaid!reader (3)

⤀ warnings: fem!reader, no pronouns mentioned, reader has hair long enough to be pinned a/n: recommended to read the previous parts first, since this is a direct continuation next ﾉ series masterlist ﾉ bonus (18+) ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓇼

When you first step foot into Sumeru City’s grand bazaar, you're immediately taken aback by the atmosphere. It's too loud, feels too stifling — a far cry from the vast and silent depths of the ocean, or the peaceful serenity of the forest. Even port ormos, had at least a lovely sea breeze. But you've come so far, it'd be a waste not to experience this lively city to its fullest.

“This necklace should only be worn by someone as beautiful as you!”

“Ditch those drab clothes and come see this new fabric from Liyue!”

“I guarantee these sunsettias are sweet like you!”

"Can I buy you a drink tonight?"

It's already a little dizzying to be so far inland, but the way all these humans vie for your attention, on top of the musicians and screaming children in the background… it’s a lot to take in so suddenly. Covering your ears helps a little, but not nearly enough to drown out the cacophony. You don’t even care to react when a strong arm wraps around your waist and leads you away.

Alhaitham guides you towards an isolated corner nearby, shooting a glare at any who dares look your way. He speaks to you in your native tongue; his pronunciation has become near flawless with your help.

“Are you alright?”

Both your head and your heart seem to settle a bit at the familiarity.

"It's a little much is all... just need some time to adjust."

To play it safe, Alhaitham removes his soundproof earpieces, placing them on you instead, and switches it on to the lowest setting. He's no fan of the noise either, but he's used to it; he'll be fine.

"Oh isn't this beautiful? And i'm sure it'll look even better on me!"

Alhaitham rolls his eyes. You're gushing over a hairpin while he stands beside you, arms full carrying assorted jewelry, trinkets large and small, a carpet, and a basketful of zaytum peaches. Mermaids and their vanity and their affinity for pretty things… at least you’re helping the local economy.

However, there’s currently only one issue and it isn’t the mora — it's the merchant who has him blacklisted.

"That'll be two million mora for the hairpin."

Now that he cannot justify. It's well crafted and beautifully embedded with crystal ore, but definitely not worth even half of what dori is asking for; only a fool would pay that price. Underhanded as it may be, he manages to swipe a similar hairpin that peaks out from under the large pile of accessories. Besides, all the times lord sangemah bay has overcharged him on information sales is far from a mere two million mora.

Dinner at Lambad’s is interrupted by a trio of colorfully clad men who seem to be on familiar terms with Alhaitham. You had always read him as more of a loner, and had seemed to be correct in your assumptions until now.

"I have some business to attend to, but I'll be back shortly. In the meantime, these are my... acquaintances. You can trust them."

“Would it kill you to call us your friends?” says the intimidating, purple one.

The blonde one laughs into oblivion when he sees Alhaitham leave with his arms full of your many purchases in tow.

…

“Ah, so you’re a diver. There’s a specific deep sea coral I’ve been dying to study, but it’s been impossible to get a sample. Would you be interested in working together? I'll be sure to compensate you well.”

You agree to Tighnari’s proposal; it would be no trouble as the dragon bone coral he speaks of is easy to find if you know where to look. Across the table, Cyno let's out a chuckle.

“You sea…,” a pause for dramatic effect, “you said ‘sure’ which can also be construed as ‘shore.’ As in, the land along the edge of the sea.”

Kaveh orders a round of firewater shots to drown out the pain of cyno’s terrible sense of humor. Unfortunately, alhaitham returns to find out you’re quite the lightweight.

…

He carries you on his back all the way home, listening to your drunken rambles along the way. You seemed to have had fun with his friends, but there’s a corner of his mind that can’t help but wonder if you now find him boring in comparison.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“Wanna know a secret?” you slur, giggling. “I enjoy the time I spend with you the most.”

With that said, you nuzzle closer into the crook of his neck and Alhaitham feels his face heat up all the way to the tips of ears. Mermaids are proud and rarely ever reveal their true feelings, so he counts himself lucky to have heard yours. Your soft breathing tickles his skin. He’s glad you’re asleep now, knowing that you would’ve teased him again otherwise.

Once home, Alhaitham sets you on the living room divan before leaving to prepare the bath. The aforementioned business he had to attend to, was purchasing salt. In bulk. He figured you’d need saltwater to rehydrate, as it’s been a few days since you’ve last been in any water. And a saltwater bath would surely be less of a hassle to deal with than a shriveled up mermaid.

The way your legs meld back into a tail is mesmerizing, especially with how your scales shimmer to life in the water. It quickly sobers you up. He’s about to leave but…

“Not even going to keep me company? I stayed with you all night at the cove you know.”

There it is. Alhaitham turns back around just in time to see the little grin on your face, as you rest your arms along the edge of the tub while your long tail hangs over the other end. He doesn’t know much of mermaid physiology but it’s enough to assume the saltwater, makeshift as it may be, has successfully sobered you up.

“I’m going to bed. You should get some sleep as well.”

“But I’m not tired.”

“I am. Goodnight.” And he leaves. Though eventually, he does return with a stack of books and papers.

“These are old studies I pulled from the Akademiya regarding the dark sea. Since you’ve got the energy, mind fact checking? Just be careful not to get them wet.”

He sets them down on a nearby stool before a splash of water hits him right in the face.

“How about with some compensation then?” he says, pulling out the hairpin he had swiped from dori.

It’s similar to the one you had previously fawned over, though it’s laid with nagadus emerald instead, which he thought suited you much better than plain crystal ore. Unbeknownst to him, you had liked the first because its cyan stones reminded you of those he would toss in the water upon arriving at the cove. However, you adore this one for the way the emerald gems seem to match the very one sitting on his chest. You think you’ll cherish it forever.

“Will you put it on for me?”

His touch is surprisingly gentle, careful not to accidentally tug too hard. Alhaitham’s seen Kaveh put up his hair enough times to replicate a simple style. Easier said than done as it turns out to be less than stellar, sitting slant and loose. At least he tried.

“Well? How does it look?”

Light reflects off the gems in your hair and into the water, casting an iridescent glow that bounces across the room, dancing onto your skin. Anyone could say that even the brightest of jewels dull in the face of your otherworldly beauty. Only he can say that in this moment, in his bathroom, you look more perfect than the moon shining through the window behind you.

“I think it’d look even more flattering if you were reading,” he glances down, “Enigmatic Depths: An Empirical Study of the Ocean and Beyond.”

Another splash of water hits his face.

next (4) ﾉ bonus (3.5) n’sfw

a/n2: If you're already on the taglist, you'll be tagged for any future parts (just lmk if you'd like to be added/removed) ^^ I also kind of want to do an 18+ bonus part in the future, but no taglist for that since I don't want to jumpscare anyone lmao (unless you guys want one idk but have your age in bio pls) Anyways, thank you for reading ♡

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

[raineydays411]

My fathers daughter pt 12

It all comes out sometime

"Jay?" You ask.

"Yeah its me. How the fuck did you get access to the coms?" He asks amused at your actions.

"Trust me hacking this isn't any harder than hydra files" You say passively, " Anyways that's not important, I think I can help with this Joker thing."

"Wait? Really?" He ask seriously, "Y/n, listen carefully, I need you to go into Bruce's office and find the big ass clock --"

"Yeah I already found the secret hide out" You say annoyed, "Mommy dearest kicked me out before I could tell her how I could help."

Jason sighed, knowing that his mother probably tried to use her mom voice on you. " Yeah, she told us she didn't want you to be in the whole vigilante think."

The anger that was simmering under your skin came back, but before you let it get the best of you, you continued. Knowing that this information was more important than whatever mommy issues you had.

"Right, well that's not important." You say," Listen to me now."

"I'm listening." Jason grunted, sounding like was punching someone,

"Whatever chemical agent Jackass put in his venom is the exact same stuff that was used to brainwash the Winter Soldier" You say quickly.

"Kid, I wanna believe you but how do you know that? Tim was just able to get a sample and process it."

"Because, I was told that every antidote you use only makes the effects stronger right?"

"Right" He says strained

"In order to make sure that the Winter Soldier stayed the Winter Soldier and not Bucky, Hydra had to make sure his brain produced a certain amount of hormones. And that whatever anybody used, the effects couldn't reverse. Hence chemical X."

"Chemical X?"

"The name is to long for me to attempt to pronounce, anyways, lucky for us, my daddy just so happened to create a serum that undoes Chemical X. And if I check," You pause, taking over the computer downstairs, and checking the sample Tim had sent in, " The component is there."

"Well I'll be damned"

"Exactly. Now, I need you to find a lab or something. This serum was made with the intention of being made on the fly. So everything you need should be there." You say pulling up a map of Gotham general.

"Wait, I need to tell Bruce." Jason said, " Joker said he had the only antidote and he's fighting him right now"

"No thats not possible. The only ones who know about it is my father and I." You said worridly.

Meanwhile while you were upstair lending a helping hand, downstairs Christine and Alfred were panicking because they lost control of Jason's com and the main computer.

'Alfred I can't find him" Christinen cried, " How did he just disappear like that?

"I don't know miss, there's no possible way he could've."

"Wait." Christine says looking up to the screen, " Bruce and Tim are gone"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"How did you get con-"

"It's not important" You say cutting Batman off, " Listen to me, Joker doesn't have the cure."

"How do you know that?" The dark knight asks skeptically

"Because, until my dad figured it out, there was no cure." You say impatiently, " This chemical wasn't intended to have a cure."

"But you figured it out?"

"YES" You shout frustrated at the constant repetition, " DO you want the step by step or do you want to save lives?"

"hm" Bruce grunted, " And you know how to make it?"

"I do." You say earnestly

There was a pause, you heard grunting and what sounded like fighting in the background.

On Bruce's side, he managed to get the Joker disarmed and tied up.

He searched him for what he claimed was the vial containing the cure. But upon finding it, the Joker decided to throw his head back connecting with Batman's face. The sudden impact caused him to drop the vial, shattering it on the linoleum floor. The liquid oozing out and burning a hole into the floor.

"Ooops" the Joker cackled, " Aww poor Batsy, I guess I may have told a little white lie"

As Bruce rose from the floor, Robin ran in holding another vial

"Batman, the antidote." He says with a stern look on his face.

The smug smile fell from the Jokers face as he looked at the preteen.

"Thats...that's not possible!" Joker cried out, " There is no cure. There was never a cure."

Batman looked Joker straight in the eye, " No Joker, it looks like you miscalculated."

And with that, a swift punch to the face knocked the Joker out. A breath of relief flowed from the Batfamily. Now they can focus on what really mattered, helping the infected.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back in your room you paced, after explaining how to make the cure, you hadn't hear back from the family. The anxiety you had building up in you made your heart feel as of it was going to explode.

"Y/n" Jasons voice came from your computer, " It worked."

You felt like crying, " Really? Are you for real?'

"No I'm lying and everyone died" Jason said sarcastically, " Yes I'm for real."

"Thank god" You said wetly

"Oh god are you crying?" Jason said uncomfortably

"No." and with that you disconnected, allowing access back to the main computer downstairs. After doing that you sat on your be, taking a couple deep breaths to calm yourself. But the tears kept flowing. You were so worried that you didn't get the information to Bruce on time. You were worried about the people that were exposed for too long. The ones that the antidote may not have worked on.

You may have been able to help a few but how many more could you have saved if you were listened to right away. The anger simmered back in your body.

You hated that Christine treated you as if you were a child. She completely disregarded what you had to say and took a shot at your father. At least he was smart enough to know that you were capable of more than just sitting and twiddle your thumbs.

You had half a mind to go down there and give her a piece of you mind. But before you could, a chime came from your phone

"Hey Starky! guess who's on the neighborhood <3"

Wade?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time the Batman co. finally made it back to the cave they all were exhausted. Every single one of them wanted to get home and take a shower. Dick and Jason would be staying at the manor simply because they couldn't muster up the energy to make their respective journeys back home. Damian and Cass were knocked out in the back of the batmobile and even Bruce was having a hard time staying awake while driving.

Honestly, ever since his family was created, Bruce/Batman became less about vengeance and more about protecting the city that he and his family live and care about. And maybe, if there was anyway that he can help mend the relationship between your family and his, perhaps you can be a part of his team as well, as sad at it was to say your hacking skills were way above his and Tims.

Lost in thought, Bruce didn't realized that when he pulled in Christine was in borderline hysterics and Alfred looked a little more frazzled than usual.

"Oh! Bruce!", Christine cried throwing herself into the confused bat, " What happened?! Is everyone one okay?"

"Christine, darling what are you-" Bruce was puzzled, Christine always had somewhat of a flair for the dramatics but there should be no reason for her to be this worried, especially because she's able to see everything .

"I thought we lost you! All of you!" Christine cried, eyes welling up with tears," The coms cut our for what felt like hours and then the main computer crashed! Me and Alfred both were barely able to get it rebooted before you got here!"

"Wait, if the main computer crashed then how was Y/n able to talk to us through the coms?" Tim asked tiredly, only jolting awake when Jason harshly elbowed him, signaling him to shut up about your participation.

"What do you mean? Y/n has been in her room this whole time." Christine says with a look of confusion on her face.

The batfamily all looked at each other, silently daring each other to step up and tell the truth, and face the wrath of their mother. Even Bruce didn't want to rat you out, knowing where Christine stood on her thoughts of you being involved.

Now don't get the wrong idea, Christine is by definition an overprotective mother. Theres no doubt about that. But there is a reason as to why she wants you out of the hero life and spot life in general.

Firstly, you are Tony Stark's daughter. There is no getting around that. And being Tony Stark's daughter also means you're Iron Mans daughter. And that is the whole reason you are there in Gotham in the first place. Amidst all the familial drama, everybody seemed to forget that you are still being hunted by an anonymous group. But Christine hasn't. Every night she lies awake worried to death that that was the night they found you. That they would come for you.

Secondly, the villians that her husband and family deal with are...for lack of words psychoic. If they figured out that you, Iron mans daughter, was helping their enemy Batman there would be more people after you. And from what Christine has witnessed these people do, the horrors and atrocities they casually commit. That frightens her even more.

So, with that being said, the look on her families face and the circumstances that had just occurred, it wasn't hard for her to figure out the cause of their technical malfunctions. And what a coincidence that these malfunctions only happened after you were sent to your room.

"Bruce.", Christine said in a clam even tone, " What are you not telling me." She didn't ask she demanded.

"Darling." Bruce said in a pleading tone, " It was a long night for everybody, why don't we just discuss it in the morning"

"Discuss it in the morning?" Christine asked incredulously, " Discuss it in the morning?! Do you know how worried I was? How worried WE were" She gestures to herself and Alfred who looked mildly uncomfortable to be put in the argument, " We thought you were injured or worse DEAD!"

The kids tried to slowly back out, inching towards the elevator that you totally didn't know was there.

"Don't even think about it" Christine said without looking at them, " How dare you all? How dare you? I asked ALL of you for one simple thing. Just one. To keep her OUT of it."

"Christine that's hardly fair-" Bruce started to say before getting cut off.

"No! It is totally fair! There are PEOPLE after her. People who are still out there by the way! Tony and his team haven't been able to find them! They keep slipping away whenever they get close! They are out there, trying to get MY daughter, for god knows what!"

Bruce glances towards the staircase entrance but before he can say anything Christine goes on, " DO you understand how hard it has been to keep anything from this world from her!"

"Ma she grew up in this world, it's not fair to just cut her out" Jason cuts in, " She feels left out because we're all pretending like we aren't who we are and pretending as of we don't have The Tony Starks daughter in our house. She's not a civilian, she's in it."

"She is not just Tonys daughter she's mine too!" Christine shouts before tears start to drop from her eyes, " Shes MINE, she can't be taken from me."

In the batmobile, Cass buries her face into a sleeping Damians chest.

"Mom, do you think any of us would let that happen?" Dick finally speaks up, " I mean, come on have a little faith"

" I just wanted her to stay out of it, to get out for good."

" Darling, that girl was not made to stay out of things, look at whp her parents are," Bruce chuckled, " Besides, she's never going to come around if we don't fully open ourselves up to her as well."

"You have to admit Ma, fighting is the only way any of us bonded" Jason says, " Except me, she likes me."

"I don't know why " Dick says with a frown, still bitter at the fact that you had bonded with Jason before him.

Christine sniffled before saying, " I still need to go talk to her, the way she cut us off was unacceptable."

"But-" Tim finally spoke out but it was too late, Christine was already marching to the elevator, mind made up about scolding you for what she thought was a practical joke.

The rest of the team was left in the Bat cave shaking their heads at their mothers stubbornness.

Bruce's sighed and started to put things away, " There's going to be fight and I don't want to be in the middle of that."

The three awake boys nodded.

" Someone wake up Damian and Cass, they need to go to bed."

Jason and Dick pushed Tim forward, if there was one other thing they didn't want to get in the middle of, was those two and their sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back upstairs you were filled to the brim with anger. You had gone downstairs to greet the returning heroes and rub your success in Christines face, only to overhear what you had already confirmed.

Christine had been purposefully keeping things from you. Not only about Bruce being Batman ( Which you already knew), but about your situation.

See, when you had first moved to Gotham, you knew that there would be almost little to no contact with your family. The few times you were able to talk to someone from back home it wasn't even your parents. Something about phone lines being traceable and unreliable.

The only line of communication was given to you by Natasha before you left, a single flip burner phone that was only to be used for emergencies.

But Christine apparently was getting updates directly from your father. Updates you were sure were meant to be given to you. So not only had she had a hand in the intentional isolation of you from her family, she was trying to isolate you from yours as well.

It made you so angry! You already have sacrificed so much just to be here and you didn't even want to be there in the first place. You ripped open your laptop and went to do a little digging. Upon doing that, you found about a dozen of lengthy emails from your father describing in great lengths about your situation and details about life back home. These emails were obviously meant to be read by you and they all were marked as read and filed away. How they got to the Batcomputer was unknown to you but as you scanned each word tears welled up into your eyes, you father had not forgot about you.

You sat on the bed, taking deep breaths trying to calm down. You managed to restrain yourself and not blow up at that woman in front of her whole family and you really were trying to calm down so you can have a mature conversation about it.

You were trying.

but then, "Y/n Stark how dare you disobey your mother!"

What?

"What?" You say eyes ripping open and anger finally bubbling over

"How dare you! I asked you for one thing! All I wanted was to make sure my family would have been okay!"

"And are they dead?" You ask bluntly, " Is everyone who was infected dead?"

Christine turned red, " That is not the point young lady and I don't appreciate you talking about your family like that."

"They are NOT my family!" You shout, " You are not my family"

'Y/n" Christine start but now you were the one to cut her off

"NO, and since we are on the topic of not appreciating things lets talk about how I don't appreciate how you have been deliberately LYING to me."

"Excuse me?" Christine asks angrily, " I will have you know that I do not have to disclose every single piece of information I have to yo."

" Not even when it's about my own father." You said with an even tone, " Or do you not have to disclose that piece of information to me."

Christine lifts her chine, " Y/n I have no idea what you are talking about?"

"Oh you don't?" You ask," So you and your husband aren't hiding emails from my father to me in that big ass computer?"

Eyes widen, " How do you -"

"How do I know about that?" You mock, " So it's true?"

"Y/n that's not the point" Christine started, " Your practical joke could have seriously put the lives of your siblings in danger."

" My siblings?" You ask, " They are not my siblings! I don't even know those people!"

Christine stays quiet, then shakes her head, " If you would just come out of the room and get to know them other than Jason-"

"Why so they could tell me how great you are?' You say, " So they can tell me memories they have of you being a good mother to them?"

Christine's eyes well up with tears, " Y/n that's not fair"

"Oh that not fair to you, mom?" you shout, " And it was so fair to me when you left me to raise another kid?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the hallway Dick and Jason are paused half way up the staircase.

Dicks heart falls into his stomach at your comment, knowing that that kid you were talking about was him.

Jason on the other hand had a grim look on his face. He knew that this conversation needed to happen in order for anything to move on.He knew the years of resentment you were holding on to. It wasn't fair to you that everyone in this house had this subconscious expectation that you should just put those years behind you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"That is not what happened" Christine says wetly, " It was just hard, Y/n you don't understand."

"Hard?!" You shout angerliy, " It was hard? Hard for you to visit your daughter once every three fucking months? Was it hard for you to lead my dad on then crush his heart every time you left?"

"NO Y/N thats not true" Christine shouted but before she could continue you went on

"No???" you mocked, " Then what was it mom?"

" Everytime I went to see you, you had grown." Christine sniffs, " You had grown and had new adventures and stories and milestones that i was not a part of. I-"

"OH bullshit!" You shout

"Y/n." Christine says sadly

"NO, no you don't get to play that card! You left by choice!" You cry, " You left me by choice, you hid me away by choice! You chose this life for us."

" I loved you so much. I LOVE you so much Y/n!"

"You have a funny way of showing it." You say dryly, " You have this perfect life here. Perfect husband, a shit load of kids who adore you. I adored you. Why wasn't I enough?"

Christine's heartbroke and she couldn't answer you because truthfully, she didn't have an answer.

"And the one parent I was enough for I had to leave. I had to leave him and my mother behind for my other one who didn't want me. And I'm stuck in a house full of these kids who adore you and didn't know that I adored you well before them. And yet even though I'm here I'm alone. And that still isn't enough for you."

Christine wanted to say you weren't alone. You weren't because you have her. She's here for you, but that wasn't true. She hadn't been there. She wasn't there even when she was.

"You had to make me think my father forgot about me the way you did for what? So I can like you again? So I could forget all the times you promised you were going to come see me and you didn't? Why?"

"I..I just wanted to keep you safe.." Christine spouted pathetically.

"Safe?" You said, herding her towards your door, " No, everything you've done is because you want to look better. You're selfish. That's what you've always been"

And with that you slam the door in her face, startling the boys on the stairs and Christine as she didn't even realize that she was in the hallway.

Staring at your door she wept. For once, truly feeling the regret that she said she had been feeling. She did truly love you, she had not lied about that. To hear you finally say how you weren't enough for her broke her heart.

"Ma..are you okay?" Jason softly asked as Dick went to knock at your door, a bit angry at the way you spoke to his mother,

"Leave her be." A soft voice demanded from the hallway, " Dick, leave her be. Your mother was not the only one hurt in that conversation."

Bruce walked to Christine, and gently lead her to their room.

Upon the commotion outside, no one heard you open your window and slip out.

"It's about time, I almost died waiting for you."

"You can't die, that's your whole thing." You reply, wiping tears from your face.

"You're crying." Wade says in an unnaturally serious voice, " Do I have to kill your hot mom?"

You cringe, " No, just get me out of here."

"I could do that, actually I have a surprise for you~" He sings as he leads you to his taxi...

You heard what sounds like banging coming from the trunk and you're slightly scared to open it.

"Wade.."

"Oh don't be a pussy" He says opening the trunk.

Popping out with a gasp is

"Peter?" You say with a sigh, eyes welling up with tears again. You truly have missed your friends.

"That was not cool Wade!" He shouts, not grasping where he was, " The trunk smelled like nachos and vomit! I couldn't nngh-"

He grunts as you throw yourself into his arms, " Y/n.."

His arms wrap around you tightly, " Y/n what are you.. Where am I?"

"Gotham, now get me the hell out of here."

And with that, you're loaded into the car, taking the backseat with Peter and Wade in the front with an Indian man.

"Y/n this is Dopiender"

"Hello ms. Stark, I promise I will defend you with my life."

"Oh...well, thank you."

"This was surprisingly easy." Wade said as they pulled out of the long driveway, " Bruce Wayne should update his security."

What they didn't know, was that a pair of bright green eyes watched your reunion through the security camera in the Batcave. Squinting as they saw the tears flow freely through your face and noting the license plate and the men you were with.

[mayakern]

hiiii it's me! devin! ur favorite!

maya is still banned from doing big business things on social media while she takes time to rest and detoxify from the poison that is running social media full time for ten years. everybody clap! yay!

i'm here to share some info on our button-up shirt and dress preorders!

as many of you already know, i lost my anti-preorder campaign due to the high minimum per design. there's been some confusion and uncertainty. carsyn's doing her best but preorders are overwhelming and i have some time today

SO TO ANSWER YOUR QUESTIONS:

how close are you to hitting the minimum goal for the button-up shirts and dresses?

not close lol. as of 4/26 we're at about 8% funded. i refuse to panic until after may 3rd

why the funeral design?

the funeral design won our design poll

initially we were going to run preorders for two designs: funeral as well as astronauts. when we got news that the minimum would be 400 garments per design (we're able to spread that across the button-up shirts and dresses) we decided to cut back to one design. we're really not big enough to expect 800 orders on an $80-90 item

why not another design?

another design did not win the design poll

what would have been chosen other than funeral or astronaut?

deadly florals, hiss from a rose, microorganisms, and hands were all the top placers in the design poll after funeral

can you do solid color?

yes

why didn't you do solid color?

you can buy a solid color button-up shirt or dress from anywhere. the plan has always been to introduce these garments in solid color after their initial introduction

...so can you do solid color?

we will consider doing solid color preorders if these preorders bomb

how much would solid color cost?

probably the same. it's not much cheaper. it's faster to make tho

how much would the ecovero viscose cost instead of cotton?

maybe like $10 cheaper

it's really soft tbh but it's a different weave from the viscose for the skirts. it's my number one fabric for the button-ups but alas the cotton fandom won for now

what happens if preorders bomb?

we cancel and refund all preorders.

maybe we'll try again with a different design or with fewer features after we have some time to decompress from the nightmare that is running preorders (can you tell i hate preorders). if they bomb bad enough we may completely nix patterned button-up shirts and dresses. we don't know yet!

does that affect the picnic top?

the picnic top is completely separate. since it's made out of a different fabric it has its own minimum, so it will not be affected by button-up shirt and dress preorders

and like, to be totally honest, it's way cheaper to produce. we can eat some of the cost and just make them. they're small enough to store easily and they're at a lower price point so we can expect to sell them after we receive them, like the wrap tops

btw, we have other ready-to-ship things already in production. we've been working on a whole secret project. surprise!

why did you launch preorders for the button-up shirt/dress at the same time as the picnic top?

the picnic top sample came in with the button-up dress sample and it needed very little alteration. also maya liked it. also we may be developing an entire line inspired by the picnic top so keep an eye out for that next spring

why is the new button-up shirt more expensive than the old button-up shirt?

it's more expensive to make

why is it more expensive to make?

this is a different factory from the one we used before. it's more expensive because they pay their staff a higher wage and likely have other costs

this is a different fabric from the one we used before. it's a stretch cotton with a GOTS certification

this is imported from a different country from the one we used before. turkey has much higher import fees to the US

what is a GOTS certification?

the short version is the fabric itself is more environmentally friendly and produced with more fair labor practices than standard cotton

you can read the long version here here

can you do fulfillment from somewhere other than the US?

we're working on it. it probably won't lower prices tho, since fulfillment centers also cost money

anyway...

none of this is to shame someone for not preordering. groceries are expensive and things are tight, plus it kinda sucks to spend on a tight budget and not get what you ordered for a few months

(can you tell i hate preorders)

i think there's a lot of surprise since we've never done preorders on a single design before, and that's fair! we debated on doing a kickstarter but a) i hate doing kickstarters b) kickstarter takes a percentage of sales and our profit margin on these is already lower than we'd like it to be

i'm tired and i can't remember anything else i wanted to say. i may answer any additional questions from my own tumblr (@punchyemblem and now i'm gonna get a notification that i'm gonna be jumpscared by) but carsyn will be handling most questions

also don't worry, when you say nice things we still show maya. also she's fine, she's just in her (forced and highly necessary and possibly permanent) limited social media era

[gyupinkys]

FOUND YOU

Yandere Jihoon x fem reader.

WC: 3.8K

Jihoon was never one for relationships. His stoic behavior tends to bore the ladies, but he's had is fair share of flings. However, when some low life hacker tries to access his files; he cant help but look into you more, and some more, and a little more until he becomes obsessed. Jihoon makes it his mission to find you.

WARNINGS: YANDERE, stalking, DUB CON, phone sex, spying, unconsented filming, use of sex toys, fingering, mention of kidnapping, sugar daddy Jihoon, bratty reader.

A/N: i love this fic and I love you woozi.

One semester left… just one. Why on earth would they raise your tuition by $5,000? Are they forgetting both of your parents are dead and you have no job? The financial aid office is no help and you're already about $10,000 in debt. How nice. You look at your computer, contemplating. There's always that option… no it’s not safe. But damn you need money,  you need your degree, you need to get out of this fucking city and start over. You look down at your cat Bruno sitting at your feet. 

“Should I?”

He just gives you a judgemental look and walks away. This fucking cat…

You have no other choice. You pull out your spare laptop, not risking your pc getting any viruses. A few months ago you drunkenly stumbled upon a website on the dark web that gives you access to IP addresses of major company computers. You very easily figured out how to access their files, you can see everything; their expenses, investments, and payments. It would be so easy to transfer money to an offshore account and cover your traces. Scrolling through the list of companies you try to find one you’ve never heard of. More popular companies tend to have more security. 

“Universe factory?”

Hmmm. Doesn't ring a bell. It’s located about fifteen miles from your apartment so you aren't worried about them finding you. Weirdly, you can't find any bank accounts linked to this company. Scouring through some files, this seems to be a music company of sorts? You find samples of songs, lyrics, beats, and oh shit.. Drug shipments? Why is this in the music files? You try to dive deeper only for your connection to completely cut off and your computer blue screens. Fucking hell. The computer won’t turn back on and you won't have a chance to cover your tracks. So much for being computer savvy…

“Fuckkkkk” youre actually fucked. These people are clearly good if they are able to shut off your computer so they may have  already found your address by now. You're hoping your vpn and security walls help you. You get up and start to pace. Why on earth did you think this was a good idea? Of course you somehow chose the shadiest fucking company on earth. There's nothing to do now but stress and wait for your likely impending death.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“The fuck?”

Jihoon’s studio is his safe space. He’s lucky Cheol lets him pursue his passions on the side, this mafia thing tends to take up a lot of his time so being able to unwind in his own space is a treasure. But when he returns to his computer he senses something is wrong. Someone’s gone through his files. Now, Jihoon wouldn't be too worried if all that was on this computer was his music, but recently he’s been using the Universe factory as a coverup to store documents from past business deals. Now this couldnt have been the work of some amaetur, in order to get past all his security takes some real skill, and to be able to do it without a trace? Hm…

Jihoon looks through his files, trying to catalog all the incriminating evidence.

“Tiger’s super wicked diss track?” he speaks in disbelief. When the fuck did Soonyoung get in his studio? And record a fucking distrack? 

Jihoon runs a program to see the location of the last user to access his encrypted files. Nothing? Hmm… This is too random to be a coincidence, this person must've found his IP address and started from there. He decides to be bold and search his IP addresses on his self made database, it wouldn't hurt. 

 “ “FoundYou.com”? What the fuck?”

Well he hit the jackpot. He was able to look at who accessed this website in the past 24 hours and who interacted with the universe factory link. He traced the computer to a rural part of antarctica… ok that's definitely not the real location.  He digs a little deeper finding layers and layers of security. He’s starting to think this may not be some silly hacker and could be a rival mafia pulling at strings. After an hour he’s confident he’s found the real address and hacker. About fifteen miles from him lives a Y/N L/N, full time student, studying in computer science, $10,437.76 in debt and an orphan… hm. He looks up your instagram and woah. He wasn’t expecting you to look like that. He sees your friends, finds their instagrams, just to see more pictures of you cover his bases. Your college friends speak highly of you, your highschool friends love you, oh wow even your elementary school friends still hang out with you. He digs a little deeper, just to know who he’s dealing with. You adopted a cat a year ago, a cat who visits the vet very often. Gestational blockages, broken arm, not eating, bladder infection… This cat seems like a handful. 

“Bruno? Like Bruno Mars or Bruno from Encanto?” he whispers to himself. 

You visited the hospital last year from a broken pinky, your dermatologist keeps increasing the strength of your acne medication, you take very strong pills for your cramps. Car accident when you were 7, therapy for 10 years and dead parents?… Figures. 

Your credit card statement says a lot about you. $7 matcha lattes three times a week despite being in debt. $15 chipotle bowls and 12am Mcdonalds. You really like shopping at Adam and eve… freaky. You bought $100 worth of things from amazon yesterday. You sure do buy a lot of cat toys on amazon, this cat is spoiled. Hair dye, batteries, water bottles, 12 pound bag of skittles? 

“Woozi, what are you doing?” Soonyoung whispers in his ear.

Jihoon jumps, “When did you even get in here?”

“You get too immersed in your work, but why are you on amazon?”

“None of your business get out! AND WHEN DID YOU RECORD A DISS TRACK IN HERE.”

Hoshi’s eyes widen and he quickly makes his exit leaving Jihoon alone again. He knows he’s being a creep but he doesn't have it in him to care. You’re just so interesting.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Bruno there's no one at the door stop growling.”

You open the door to show him no one is outside, but low and behold sitting outside your apartment is a large bouquet of hydrangeas… your favorite flower. 

“The fuck?”

You further inspect the flowers, seeing a note in the center.

“My precious little hacker, I’ll be seeing you soon. P.S check your bank account - Woozi’s Universe factory.”

You drop the flowers. Oh my god.You figured something like this would happen but now that it's happening you're freaked out. God, you should have minded your business. Now the little money you had is probably gone as some sort of twisted revenge. As you login to your bank app you're sure you've lost your mind and you're seeing things. $20,000 was wired to your savings account.

“What the fuck.”

You know better than to touch this money. It’s too good to be true. But, this would pay off your debt and get you a better apartment… fuck. You check your email to see what time the money was wired only to see an email from your school saying there were changes made to your account. Can this day get any worse? But it somehow gets better, not only is your tuition paid but all your debt is cleared… you must've suffered a head injury and you're making all of this up while in a coma. 

“Bruno, I might be killed in the next 7 days… Then you’ll have to fend for yourself.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Bruno, I might be killed in the next 7 days.. Then you’ll have to fend for yourself.” your sweet voice rings out. 

Jihoon had to see your reaction to his gift. He’s glad you didn't notice the green dot on your mac as he watched you through the webcam. He loves the way you talk to Bruno like he’s a human.

It took a lot of digging to figure out your favorite flower, it was one of your security questions for your bank app. He hopes you appreciate his generosity, it’s not everyday that he goes out of his way to spoil someone. He sees you looking absolutely bewildered and he can’t help but smile. But this smile quickly drops when you turn to your computer and your eyes widen, presumably seeing your camera is on.

“YOU FUCKING CREEP!” you scream as you power off your computer, leaving him staring at a blank screen.

He just smiles in response. He’s gonna have so much fun with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The gifts don't end. Everyday at 4pm you arrive home and on your doorstep is  something new, perfume, jewelry, bags, clothes, cat toys. This person must be rich. Though today the bell never rings. You even stand in your hallway looking for the delivery but it never comes. 

“Well isn't that weird?” you say to yourself as you unlock your door.

“Bruno?” Usually he comes running up to you when you unlock your door.

You see Bruno inspecting a bright red gift box sitting on your kitchen counter. You stop dead in your tracks. How the fuck did they get in your apartment? 

“Bruno! Move away from that.” you say and scoop him up. 

Oh god. This is getting insane. Leaving the gifts on your doorstep is one thing but coming inside? 

You stare at the gift for an hour. You're too afraid to open it. That is until it starts to vibrate. Is this a fucking bomb? You jump and open the box, seeing a brand new phone… Um Ok? The phone is receiving a call from an unknown number and obviously you don't answer it, setting the phone back down only for the same number to call again. You hesitantly answer. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, my love.”

“Who is this?” 

“Don’t worry about it, yet.”

“Ok, I’m gonna hang up.”

“Y/N, I wouldn't do that f I was you.”

“Stop being a fucking creep and sending shit to my door step.”

He just laughs.

“I left one more gift for you, why don’t you go look.”

You sigh and walk to your door, looking out the peephole first and opening it, picking up the large box.

“Are there killer wasps in here?” you sarcastically say.

“No, there are no wasps,” he laughs.

You open the box and pause, turning your head to your computer to see your camera is on.

“Are you watching me?”

“I’m always watching you, love.”

“God, youre a fucking creep, I should call the cops.”

“And tell them what? You tried to hack me and steal money from me? That you're a dirty little hacker and a thief?”

You’re starting to get upset, this is fucking insane.

“Open the box, love.”

You look at the computer and flip him off before opening the box. You gasp. This fucker sent you sex toys? 

“ALL YOU DO IS SHOW ME HOW MUCH OF A FUCKING PERVERT YOU ARE!” you yell into the phone.

“Is it so bad I want my baby to feel good?”

“I’m not your baby! I don’t even fucking know you.”

“I know you don’t know me but I know you. I know everything about you. Your favorite color is blue, your favorite food is Japanese curry, though you eat kimchi fried rice the most. You adopted Bruno because you needed something to keep you company since you don't really date. Your best friend moved away eight months ago and you two don't really talk anymore. Should I continue?”

“What the fuck.” you say with wide eyes.

“Baby, don’t get scared. I’m just so in love with you I need to know everything.”

“Um.” What do you even say to this?

“And don’t pretend this isn’t your darkest fantasy. I’ve seen your tumblr search history.”

Your eyes somehow widen. He got you there. Just the idea of having a clearly rich man obsessed with you would be enough to make you wet if he wasn't a pervert. 

“I want you to take out the shibari.”

You pull out a pretty blue vibrator. It’s even your favorite shade of blue. 

“Ok?” 

“I want you to use it for me.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Baby, I wouldn’t want to do things to make you upset, but I need you to listen to me. I’m not above blackmailing you and I’m sure you wouldn't want me to come snatch you up.”

Your jaw drops. 

“Youre fucking crazy!”

“Baby, you just make me feel so many things for you.”

You groan, cursing yourself for ever being greedy and trying to steal.

“What do you want me to do?” you sigh out.

“Take off your pants and sit on your desk chair.”

“Do I have to?” you pout looking straight into the camera.

“Yes, baby. I want to see you.”

Why is this making you wet? God, you fucking hate that this is exactly the smut you would always search for. You groan at the situation, yourself, at this mystery pervert.

You shimmy out of your pants and sit in your desk chair. You put the phone on speaker and set it down.

“Now what?”

“Turn it on and rub it over your nipples.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’m sure the guys waiting outside your apartment would love to do it for you.”

Your heart drops to your ass and you turn it on, quickly putting it on your nipple.

Jeez, this thing is powerful. You let out a breathy moan disguised as a sigh.

“Run it down your body.” 

You slowly drag the vibrator down your body, your breathing becoming heavy. 

“Put your legs up on the chair and put it on your clit over your panties, I wanna see you soak through them.”

You put the head of the vibrator on your clit a little too hard making you jump.

“Slow your roll baby.” he laughs, making you roll your eyes.

This vibrator is on a different level from the shitty ones you have. It feels like you're being stimulated throughout your whole body, everything is vibrating and you feel yourself leaking. 

“I can see you getting wetter baby, fuck. I bet that pussy tastes so good.”

You moan, pressing the vibrator harder against you, feeling your toes curl.

“Does it feel good, baby?”

You close your eyes and nod, swallowing the shame. “It feels really good.”

“Move your panties to the side, let me see.”

You pull your soaked panties over and press the vibrator to your swollen clit. He lets out a deep groan. Jihoon can't believe his eyes, it’s like a dream come true. Your pretty pussy dripping wet just for him, you whining and moaning like all you can think about is cumming. He pulls out his hard cock, beginning to stroke himself, imagining he was fucking you. He would give it to you however you wanted, let you come as many times as you desired. No matter how bad you treated him, he would be on his knees begging to make you cum. The hold you have over him is unfathomable.  You’re truly like an angel sent to heaven just for him and he'll be damned if he doesn’t get his hands on you. He doesn't even have it in him to feel bad about watching you, listening to you, exploring you. In his mind you’ve been his from the moment he first saw you. His to worship, spoil, love until the end of time. You’ve become his muse, his lyrics flow out with only you in mind, he makes songs with the purpose of you hearing them. You’ve taken him over completely and he is so irrevocably in love with you. You don’t even need to love him back, he already has enough love for the both of you, and it's not like he wouldn’t be able to force you. A little isolation does wonders on the brain. 

“I need more,” you whine out.

“Tell me what you want.”

You just whine more in response, too embarrassed to speak. “You want to use your fingers?”

You nod furiously, opening your eyes to plead with him.

“Ok baby, slide two in for me. I want you to make yourself feel good.”

You listen and slide your fingers in, pumping them straight into your g-spot. You feel yourself on the verge of an orgasm, your moans becoming louder and more frequent.

“Turn it off”

Your eyes fly open. “What.”

“You heard me baby, turn it off.”

“No, no please I’m so close.”

“Y/N.”

You turn it off and throw it to the side, so insanely frustrated. 

“What is your deal!”

“You’re not cumming unless it's around my cock, baby.”

This man never fails to surprise you. “And what makes you think I’ll fuck you?”

“Trust me when I say that won’t be an issue.”

“What makes you so sure I just won’t finish myself off when I hang up?”

“I’m always watching, baby. It’s crazy how small they make cameras nowadays.”

“Fuck you Woozi’s Universe Factory.” you say not even able to take yourself seriously.

He just laughs. “I’ll be seeing you soon my love.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Is he named after Bruno Mars or Bruno from Encanto?” a deep voice rings out from your couch as you enter your apartment making you scream.

You turn to run out your apartment only to see two giants standing in your hallway blocking your exit. You groan and turn back around seeing Bruno sitting in the man's lap. Woah. Is this your stalker? Because if so, you have zero complaints. You’ve never been one to like guys with long hair, but his curls are just so hot and his lips.. How are they so plump? He’s wearing a tight black turtleneck and slacks with a gold chain. He looks so fucking hot, suddenly your not as pissed that he forced you masturbate for him. 

“Who are you?”

“You know exactly who I am, my love.”

“I don't know your name. Do you want me to call you Woozi’s Universe factory?”

He breathes out a laugh. “My name is Jihoon, love.”

“I’m sure you already know my name and give me my fucking cat.” you go to grab Bruno who hisses at you. You gasp.

“You little traitor.” you growl. “The real Bruno Mars would never treat me like this.” you say threateningly to the cat. 

“Ahh, Bruno Mars. I love that guy.” Jihoon says as he lifts the cat to look him in his eyes. “You want to stay with me don’t you?” to which the cat purrs. 

You’re more shocked at your cat's betrayal than Jihoon breaking into your apartment.

“Y/N, sit with me”

“No.”

He raises a brow at you.

“Fine, but not because you asked.” you pout and sit next to him.

“Are you not scared?”

“Honestly, you're too cute for me to be scared of you. Like look at these cheeks.” you say and squeeze his cheeks making him grab your hand and pull it away from your face.

“You don’t know who you're messing with, my love.”

“I mean if you were going to kill me you would've done it already. And I know you're not going to anyway because why would you waste all this money on someone you were going to kill?”

He smiles. “So smart, baby.”

Why is he calling you baby and love? This is actually kind of spooking you.

“What do you want Jihoon?” 

“I want you to come live with me.” 

Your eyes widen. The fuck? Your feelings must be visible on your face because he continues.

 “So, you just want me to get up and leave with you?”

“Yes.”

“Why would I come with you? You've done nothing but stalk and harrass me!”

“I’ve have not been stalking you, love. Everything I’ve done is a result of your actions. You decided to try to hack me which gave me access to everything.” 

“You're just trying to manipulate me!” you say and stand up.

He looked deeply offended by this. “Manipulate you? Tell me one thing in what I said that's not true.”

He has a point. You're just grasping at straw to be honest. “What If I don’t want to go with you.” you pout and stomp your foot looking like a child.

“Then I’ll take you by force.” he says with a straight face.

Oh. You weigh your options. Would you rather live in this hell hole remaining broke and sad or go with him and drain his pockets? You don’t even know where he’s taking you, he could be bringing you to a cabin in the woods to lock you up and kill you. But it’s not like you have an option and you would much rather do this the easy way.

“Ok fine. But not because you told me to” God, you sound like such a brat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Six months later

“Jihoonnnnnnn.”

“Yes baby?”

“Can you buy me this?”

He groans. “Baby, what else could you possibly buy? You have it all.”

You show him your phone.

“Baby, you have this bag in three colors.” he deadpans.

“OK? This is my favorite color though.” You say like it's the most obvious thing on the planet.

Despite his grumbling he gets up and takes out his wallet, handing you his black card. Jihoon can never say no to you. Anything you ask for is yours, no matter what. Your life has completely changed since meeting him. You wouldn't say he’s your sugar daddy because you're equally as in love with him as he is with you,  but, lord does he spoil you. You moved into his high rise apartment and completely renovated it to your taste without a single complaint from him. He bought you a new wardrobe, new cars, bags, jewels, anything you could ever dream of. And the sex.. It’s just incredible. And Bruno is as spoiled as ever. He’s Jihoon’s baby despite Jihoon pretending to dislike him. You know what Jihoon does for a living, that's none of your business though. All that you care about is keeping him and yourself happy. You’ve grown more than accustomed to this lifestyle, not knowing how you functioned before meeting him. 

“Thank you Woozipoo”

“Stop calling me that” he groans.

“If you want me to stop you’ll get out this fucking studio and come to bed.”

He rolls his head to you. “Why would I do that?”

“So I can thank you for being so good to me.” you say into his neck making him groan. 

“God, baby don’t say things like that.”

“I can’t tell my man how much I want to fuck him?”

“Get your ass in the bedroom.”

[aealzx]

Don had been quick to rush out of the plane to get the infirmary ready, but Leo found it was hard for him to put too much urgency into his movements. Twice now Donnie had reacted better to slow, careful motions than abrupt ones. So Leo found he was continuing to be a lot more gentle and careful than strictly necessary when picking him up. He was completely limp, even after having had two and a half hours of sleep. But at least a little bit of color had returned to his skin now. At least Leo thought he looked a little less pale. When both teens were asleep Don had shown Raphael and Leo the video of what Augustine had ordered to be done, and through it they had learned the assistants had taken nearly a liter of blood from Donnie, along with cutting tissue samples from him. It had been enough to get Raphael rapidly walking the length of the plane several times to calm down, and gave Don more of an idea on how to take care of Donnie. Leo just understood a little more why Donnie had reacted defensively towards him, and hoped the teen didn’t wake up in the middle of them treating him.

“Thank April,” Leo found himself saying distractedly to Mom April as she welcomed them home. It was always nice to get a hug from her, but Leo found he was too anxious to stick around and fully catch them up on everything. “I’m okay, can we talk later? Maybe over dinner? You guys might be able to meet the kids then too.”

“...Sure thing, Leo,” Mom April relented, noting how absent he seemed and not wanting to stress him out more. He always had been the one to worry a lot. Even when they were kids.

Leaving them with Mikey, Leo moved quickly to the infirmary to find Raphael sitting near the surgery table with Lil Mikey in his lap, and Don scurrying around the room to gather the supplies he needed. “Over there, Leo,” Don directed, pointing to one of the beds he’d already started gathering items next to. Obediently following the directions, Leo gingerly lowered Donnie to the soft mattress, silently praying that he didn’t wake up just yet. At least they were all breathing better after each getting at least one dose of the antidote. Leo could only wait patiently for Don to finally stop at the bedside, slipping his tactical sleeves off in the meantime, and by then Raphael had managed to convince Lil Mikey to accept treatment and was casually chatting away with him.

“Okay, I think I got everything. Can you support him so his back is to me? I need to figure out how to get that device off,” Don directed, sounding just slightly breathless. Wordlessly doing as he was directed once again, Leo pulled Donnie upright to lean forward against him, looking over the metal backpack from his angle as well to try and help Don figure out how to safely remove it.

“Hey!” Lil Mikey’s voice suddenly grabbed their attention while Don was running his fingers over the cool metal. “Don’t take that off! He needs it!”

The scolding caused Don to flinch, and turn to look over at the other table. “...Needs it as in it’s physically attached to him and offering some sort of life supporting function?” he asked, wanting clarification on what exactly Lil Mikey meant so he could judge if he actually needed to obey his demand, or explain that it was necessary to remove it. He didn’t want to ignore Lil Mikey’s concerns, but he wasn’t sure if they would hinder treatment for Donnie despite being in good will.

“N-no… Nothing like that. It’s just… it’s not safe for him to have it off. Especially when away from home,” Lil Mikey faltered, having not thought his choice of words would make the others think Donnie was some sort of cyborg.

“...Mikey, it’s okay. You’re both safe here,” Raphael assured, reaching out to rest his palm on Lil Mikey’s shoulder.

“Even if it’s a prosthetic, it’s not safe to wear one while sleeping. And I need to check him for injuries. We saw evidence that Augustine’s people may have done something to his back…,” Don explained gently, understanding that Lil Mikey was still wary despite everything that had happened. He couldn’t expect the teens to trust them fully just yet.

It seemed that mentioning that something may have happened to Donnie’s back was enough to get Lil Mikey to completely flip his stance, sucking in a tense breath and wiggling his feet as he considered. “...There’s a button on the inside of the right shoulder,” he relented, frowning miserably. “Just make sure to be super extra careful, okay?”

“We’ll be extremely careful. Don’t worry,” Don assured, grateful for the tip on where to find the trigger to release the device. Once he knew where to look Don quickly found the button and pressed it, marveling as the shoulder pieces flexed outward with a slight hiss, and the belt went slack. “Fascinating…” he breathed, earning a chuckle from Leo as he hefted the metal aside, distracted by trying to get a quick analysis of it while he moved it away..

As Don took the equipment a short ways away, Leo adjusted his grip to keep Donnie supported against him, resting his hands on the teen’s back. But what he felt caused him to stiffen in shock, suddenly afraid to move. His fingers were able to push into what should have been a hard keratin shell, and when his gaze snapped down he saw a significantly flatter shell with four jagged marks across the surface. “....Donnie get back here now,” Leo blurted rapidly, flexing his fingers just slightly to make sure he wasn’t imagining things.

“What is it- Oh!” Don rushed, semi dropping the backpack device the rest of the way to the floor and rushing back over to them. What he saw caused him to freeze as well, but then he gingerly reached out his fingers to brush against Donnie’s back. “...Oh wow…”

“It’s soft right? What does that mean? Is that bad? Shells aren’t supposed to be soft,” Leo rambled, his concern overflowing and pushing his bubbling thoughts to words before he could fully consider them. What had Augustine’s people done? Was it shell rot? Was it some crazy experimental garbage Augustine had infected him with?

“He’s a softshell you idiots. Stop manhandling him!” Lil Mikey blurted irritably, offended on behalf of his brother for the other two curiously running their hands all over his back. “So rude,” he huffed, creating small chains to wrap around Don’s wrists and pull them away.

“Sorry!” Don gasped, snatching his hands back as the orange chains broke him from his stupor, and not minding Lil Mikey scolding him. “Sorry- Let me just… do some quick research- I thought you were both box turtles like us…,” he rambled, pulling his phone out to access the internet.

“Ohmigosh- He’s not an alien. Just treat him like me, but be extra careful, and make sure you clean your hands and everything you use. Leo- my brother says he’s prone to infections. He’s always using antibiotic stuff on him and making sure he gets washed up properly for even small cuts. Otherwise he does everything else pretty much the same,” Lil Mikey huffed again, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

The interaction caused Raphael to snicker despite the situation. He didn’t want to admit he was curious to head over and take a peek for himself, but he figured Lil Mikey would probably throw him across the room with his chains if he did. So he decidedly remained where he was and continued to be amused from afar.

Don listened to what Mikey said, but also sped read through a few sites and different search parameters before he grew more relaxed and sure of his thoughts. “Infection… right, that would explain the fever,” he spoke, mostly to himself, then nodded firmly. “Okay. I got this. Leo, go ahead and lay him back down, then get some water and antibacterial soap. They both need to be cleaned up, and I’ll check the incision sites…”

Leo wasn’t quite as sure of himself as Don was, but at least he had directions now. What Don said made sense to him. If Donnie got infections easily then getting him cleaned up from the grim on him was a priority. Resting him back on the bed, Leo darted off to fetch a soft rag, soap, and water so he could wash off the debris from Augustine’s facility. Don had returned to his focused state after he started peeling the bandaids off, carefully inspecting each injury as he did so. He could at least count it a small blessing that Augustine had apparently ordered only the smallest possible samples be taken. The cuts were only 15 millimeters wide, and less than a millimeter thick. But it looked like they were pretty deep, and Don gingerly cleaned each wound again before rubbing antibiotic ointment on them and getting them covered again.

It didn’t take long before Don had finished addressing the injuries, started an IV with a small amount of antibiotics added to it, and strapped a heart monitor to Donnie’s finger just in case. When he began pulling a blanket over Donnie and tucking him in, Leo knew the treatment was done for now, and asked what he’d been wondering for a while now. “Is he going to be okay?”

Don paused for a second to think, but nevertheless nodded. “I think so. Aside from the bloodloss there isn’t anything incredibly concerning. I think he’s just incredibly exhausted, and that’s why he hasn’t woken up yet. We’ll need to keep an eye on him of course, but at this point I think it’s safe to just let him sleep. The IV fluids will help until his body restores the blood he lost, and we’ll need to get him a good meal when he’s up. But he’ll be fine.”

The explanation, and plans for what to do later, earned a sigh of relief from Leo. It could have been much, much worse. He was glad that, aside from Lil Mikey’s gunshot wound, nothing seemed to be critically serious. “I’ll go check what Mikey is cooking then. And let Master Splinter know we’re all home safe, in case he’s still up.”

“You know he is,” Don gave a small grin, and slight shake of his head.

Leo just laughed quietly, rising to his feet to head to the exit. “Yeah, I know.”

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the fun thing about adding drawings to these is that I can throw in random lil details without derailing the story X'D

Also after seeing some of the comments, don't worry, they're all gonna be fine. I don't believe in hurt without comfort =3= Donnie is just taking an extreme nap to process all the overstimulation and stuff.

[ceilidho]

fear of god

There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 10 masterlist

-

Only after incinerating the original samples do you second guess your actions.

Too late by then. By the time it occurs to you that it might’ve been smarter to keep the samples to reference later, they’re already in biohazard bins, autoclaved and in the process of being incinerated, flames dancing behind the glass. 

You can only watch dispassionately. Mistakes made in crisis; you keep yielding to the thin stretch of fear across the vanishing point of your paranoia and hoping you won’t make the same mistake again, only to repeat the same pattern. 

Over lunch in the mess, you bite back your anxiety and ask Gaz to come by the lab in the morning in order to draw another vial of blood. He spreads his legs under the table until his knees taps against yours.

There’s a glint in his eye when he smiles. “Something wrong with the one from yesterday?”

Stare and swallow your pride. “I…accidentally contaminated it. Can you come by?”

“Of course, doctor. Anything for you.”

You grit your teeth to avoid snapping at him in front of everyone else, the mess full for a change. Under the table, you press your knees together until your legs tremble. 

True to his word, Gaz comes by first thing in the morning, perky enough to rub you the wrong way. You slept poorly again though, so it’d be hard to rub you the right way. 

“You look tired, love,” Gaz observes quietly, the paper crinkling under him as he sits himself down on the exam table.

“I am tired.” Your voice is subdued, weary, but somehow the thought of being vulnerable in front of him doesn’t scare you the way it once did. Your dynamic these days is an interesting one. Two people in on the same secret. It makes you feel almost close to him in a way, a shared intimacy that doesn’t extend to the rest of the crew. 

“Didn’t get enough sleep?” he asks.

“No, I—” 

A man stands at the end of a long corridor, shrouded in darkness.

You are powerless to stop him unless he wants to be stopped.

He is coming for you. He is holding out his hand and waiting for you to take it.

You rub your forehead where it aches. “No. Not enough.”

Hadir follows not long after, the door sliding shut behind him as you prep the syringe. You don’t respond when he says good morning, not in the mood for pleasantries or conversation with everything else going on. It’s hard to feel up to being friendly when this whole situation feels like a thinly veiled attempt to monitor you, like you’re the untrustworthy one when two feet away, Gaz sits with a serene smile on his face and twiddles his thumbs. 

There’s a small pleasure in plunging a needle into his vein again, but you’re not cruel enough to try and make it hurt. You’re not even sure if you could. 

He doesn’t so much as wince. 

You’re much more efficient about it with Hadir hovering over your shoulder, immediately transferring Gaz’s blood into capillary tubes after drawing it from him and flitting to the other side of the room to place the tubes into the centrifuge. It’s not a long wait—ten minutes tops—but you spend it hunched over the centrifuge. On the other side of the room, Gaz and Hadir chit chat like nothing’s wrong. 

The second the centrifuge beeps, you pop the lid and remove the tubes. Perfectly separated; no different than the day before. You repeat the same steps as Hadir watches, pipetting the supernatant fluid into a new test tube and preparing the slides, shoulders tense the whole time. Waiting for him to stop and correct you. 

It never comes—as it shouldn’t. You may not be above question, but you’re good at your job. You wouldn’t have messed up something as simple as a blood test of all things.

Then, you sit down in front of the microscope. 

Something in your gut tells you what’s going to happen before it does. You slip the slide under the microscope and lean forward into the eyepiece only to find perfectly normal red blood cells. No strange wandering cells bending into confounding shapes. Just erythrocytes sitting peacefully on the blood smear slide, not overlapping and not too widely spread apart.

You look over at Gaz when Hadir takes your place, the man still sitting on the examination table as if waiting for your permission to leave. The smile on his face is as placid as ever, almost affectionate. You’d almost believe it too, if you didn’t know any better. 

Why are you doing this? You wish you could just ask him outright. It borders on the cruel. Like a humiliation ritual, the both of you knowing that the blood cells under the microscope aren’t what they seem. Why are you putting me through this?

His eyes twinkle. Because I can, they say. 

It doesn’t take Hadir very long to come to the same conclusion as you. 

“Looks all good to me,” Hadir pronounces, smiling brightly when he pulls away from the eyepiece. “See, doc? Yesterday’s must’ve been a fluke.”

You nod instead of answering. It seems trivial to respond with words; nothing you could say would express the deep well opening up inside of you, the ever widening gap between you and the reality you once took for granted. All you can do is sit there in silence as the two of them leave together.

That seemingly no one aside from you can seem to articulate or even comprehend the magnitude of the situation at hand is starting to get to you. 

Deep within every quiet corner of the universe lie the seeds of destruction; a throbbing, cancerous heart. There’s no epiphany there though, no revelation or moment of enlightenment to shock you to your core—you know that life and death are inextricably intertwined, an egg nesting within another egg. Supermassive black holes at the centre of galaxies. Figs and wasps. Beginnings and endings.

Now one is knocking at your door, asking to come in.

The day severs itself into two when Farah finds you making a cup of tea in the galley. Your guard is already up when the door slides open and she marches in, so geared up to be scolded that you flinch at the sound of the door sliding shut. 

“We need to talk,” Farah says. Her tone brooks no argument. You’ve been dreading this confrontation, but you aren’t particularly shocked by its arrival. News travels fast in confined spaces; gossip faster. You knew from the second that you got Hadir involved after promising that you wouldn’t share your misgivings about Gaz with anyone other than Farah that this would be coming.

“Now?”

“If you’re not busy.”

You’re not and you know she knows that, so instead of arguing you just nod and pour your tea down the sink, following her out of the galley.

She steers you down a hallway away from the main corridor that leads towards the brig and several supply rooms. At the end of the hall, the brig just around the bend behind her, Farah stops and turns to face you, arms across her chest. Her face is set in a stern cast. 

“Why did you ask Hadir to help you with a blood test? He’s not the ship’s medic.”

That being her first question does come as a surprise. You’d assumed she’d immediately tear into you about involving Hadir in your arrangement, not interrogate you about leaning on another crew member for advice and support. 

“I didn’t ask him to. He volunteered.”

“Why did he volunteer?”

“I…thought there was something wrong with Gaz’s blood sample from the other day. I asked him if he could confirm if there was something wrong. I just needed a second pair of eyes.”

A terrible idea in retrospect. You should’ve anticipated Hadir’s reaction and the subsequent fallout. 

“He told me about what you said yesterday. About Gaz. Do I need to be concerned?”

“Well, I am concerned about Gaz. If you’d seen his blood the other day—”

“I mean concerned about you.”

You blink, floored. “Concerned about me?” you ask in bewilderment. “What did I do?” 

“You told Hadir that you didn’t think Gaz was human. How is anyone supposed to take that? You might not like him, but he's part of the crew now, and insinuating that about someone on the crew is—”

“Wait, wait—I’m sorry I got Hadir involved when I said I wouldn’t, but—I thought when you said you’d keep an eye on Gaz that it meant you…had similar suspicions.”

She looks at you strangely. “I never promised to keep an eye on Gaz. What are you talking about?”

Her response leaves you at a loss for words. Suddenly and acutely aware that you have been having two separate conversations—you assuming that Farah’s frustration stemmed from involving her brother when she previously asked you not to, and her assuming something entirely different. 

“Yes, we did,” you insist. “You told me the other day that you would as long as—”

Something moves in the shadows. 

Your eyes flick towards it instinctively. Then your body goes rigid.

A slender, dark eyed woman watches you from the end of the hall, her lips tilted up in an enigmatic grin. Half-shrouded in shadow, you notice her only because you catch her moving in your peripheral vision when she shifts her weight to one leg. You notice first the familiar stripped headscarf wrapped around her head. Then, the smaller details of her face—full eyebrows and aquiline nose, the soft rounded corners of her jaw pulled tight with her smile. 

“Doctor?” the Farah in front of you asks. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, blood pressure spiking. 

The other woman takes a step into the light. It’s Farah in shape and appearance, but there’s something off about it. Like you’re aware now of something intrinsically lesser about it when shown in opposition to the real thing. 

The Farah in front of you frowns, concerned at your sudden silence. You’re aware now of how much more solid she is, real as a gut punch. Real as grass beneath your feet back on Earth or the heat of the sun on your face, all dulled out in space.

“Did we talk the other day?” you ask. “The other day—after the navigation system was fixed?”

And her eyes say it before her lips do. 

“We haven’t spoken in days. I stayed back to help Alex after that meeting.”

Cold reality flashes briefly before you: hollow voices and replicas. What have your eyes been seeing? Reality laps against the smoothened rocks of your mind. Do you know what’s happening to you?

Can you trust what’s really in front of you?

The thing behind Farah wearing her face approaches without sound, coming closer and closer until it stands right beside her, mirroring her stance, its face screwing itself into a similarly serious expression. Double vision. Your vision is blurry around the edges, fear making you tremble something fierce. 

You keep waiting for Farah to notice it standing right beside her, for her to suddenly turn her head and see it there, but she doesn’t. She stares at you with mounting concern. 

And then you blink, the two versions blurring and then overlapping. 

Your throat makes a sound like a whimper. You take a step back, the metal clang of your boot against the floor jarring in the silence. 

“I have to go,” you whisper, the blood draining from your face, your lips almost numb.  

She calls after you when you turn around, hurrying back down the hall whence you came, but you don’t stop, breaking into a run when you hear Farah come after you.

Rat in a maze. Mouse in a trap. You scurry down corridors knowing that there’s no place to run to. At every point, there is a wall past which you cannot go. Hauntingly familiar twists and turns, everything saturated with the memory of itself, the same walls you’ve seen innumerable times. The ship fills with low creaks and hollow sounds, cramped quarters and over familiarity to the point of suffocation. 

And then the nothingness that waits for you right outside the ship. Billions upon billions of miles of dark emptiness surrounding you, only occasionally interrupted by pockets of cold clouds of gas, even more seldomly coming together in precisely the right way for a star or planet to be born. 

Set in contrast with the vast infinity just beyond your walls, the ship feels impossibly small. A tiny speck floating through the cosmos. 

You wish you could wrench a window open and climb out of it. 

You can feel it swell up in your chest at first, bigger and bigger, stretching you around its immensity. Suddenly unable to take in a full breath, your chest too tight for your lungs to fill. Your body is somewhere else behind you, on a ship drifting through space, no certainty that you’ll ever return home. Earth is so far away—tens of millions of miles away from you and no way to get back. 

There’s a hand on your nape suddenly. 

“Hey,” a low voice murmurs. “Are you alright, love?” 

You don’t answer, heaving for breath. Chest collapsing in on itself. A dying star; tiny, tiny light flickering in and out of existence. Hands sweating profusely. Heart hammering against your chest so hard it hurts. 

“I’m with you, love—I’m not going anywhere.”

The voice murmurs low in your ear again, susurrus but too far away for you to make out. Then, a hand on your low back guiding you away, tucking you into a soft, warm place. You go with it. Dark. No blinding artificial lights blinding you. 

“C’mon, breathe with me,” the voice guides you. “Deep breaths. In, out, in, out—”

You follow their instructions, taking in a shaky breath and holding before expelling it. 

“There you go—that’s good,” he praises softly.

The come down is rough. All that adrenaline dumping straight out of you, heart still lurching in your chest. You’ve never had a panic attack before, but you know what to expect in the aftermath and it doesn’t disappoint. You might as well have been hit by a truck for how much your body aches. 

When you finally have the wherewithal to look around and take stock of the situation, you notice that you’re in someone else’s quarters, the lights dimmed until only a sliver of light penetrates through the dark. It’s one of the smaller rooms, no porthole to gaze out through into the blackness of space—only a cot and a folding table mounted into the wall. 

Crouched in front of you, your limp hands held in his while his thumbs rub soothing circles on the backs of your hands, is Gaz. 

Your horror is a beast on the periphery of your consciousness. Too depleted for it to overwhelm you. But you feel it balloon in your chest even though it doesn’t have the strength to move you. 

“Love, listen—shh, no, no, no,” Gaz shushes you when you try to cry out. “No, enough, you need to calm down. Just let me speak, alright?” 

He shuffles closer to you until he looms over you, your knees spread wide to accommodate him. You get a better sense of his true size from this angle, the man composed of solid, compact muscle, his narrow waist deceptive, giving him a leaner appearance from afar than up close. You know now how much room he can take up when he wants to. 

“None of this is your fault,” he says. He shifts, releasing your hands to cup your elbows instead, smoothing his hands up your arms. “You’ve worked so hard to show them the truth, but they just don’t want to see.”

“It’s—they can’t see because of you—” you croak. 

Gaz shakes his head. “No, no. If they wanted to, they’d see through it. Like you have.”

“No—you’re doing something to me.” 

His lips flick up into a smile. “Doing something?”

“You’re making me see things that aren’t there,” you whisper, shrinking into yourself. “I don’t even know what’s fucking real anymore—you’re scaring me.”

Even this close, you smell nothing. No heat emanates from his body or breath puffs from his lungs. It’s like a monolith looms over you, staring down at you through eyes that you can see but cannot comprehend. For all intents and purposes, he looks like a man. But he is not; he is something altogether different. 

A habitation of otherness smiling down at your unraveling interiority.

“I can make them believe you. I can help them see it with their own eyes. Would you like that, love?”

He says it with so much tenderness, stroking the backs of his knuckles over your cheek. 

“What do you mean?” you ask.

He doesn’t answer at first. You’re stuck gazing into his eyes. 

“What I mean,” he says, leaning in until his words are all you can hear. “Is that I can take away every shadow of doubt from their minds until all that’s left is the cold clarity of certitude. Show them what I’ve shown you.”

Gaz cups your face in both hands, fingers spread wide over your cheeks and neck, drawing you in until your lips brush against his. Softer than you expected, with a touch of texture. You don’t know what to think of him anymore, whether it’s your lips touching his now or whether this is all happening in your head. 

Then your lips part and he sighs into your mouth. His lips glide over yours, tenderer than you expected. Soft and wet; silky. Warmth spreads across your chest, everything suddenly concentrated on his kiss. It deepens almost naturally, your hands lifting to fist in the collar of his shirt and drag him closer to you, exhaling harshly into his mouth when you pull back to breathe, only to fall back into him again. Mouth tasting of something you can’t put your finger on; almost ambrosial. 

Is this what he’s wanted this whole time? The thought vanishes as soon as it comes. You’re a ball on a tether swinging in circles, a small planet orbiting this sun. And you’re slowly, but surely, sinking into him, gravity pulling you so close that you can feel the heat of flames against your cheeks. 

He breaks the kiss and your eyes flutter open to find him staring back at you through half-lidded eyes. “Well?”

“Please.”

Gaz smiles against your lips.

[lexydakitten]

rot rot rot rot ... this particular kind infests the grounds of my iterator oc one step ahead / osa, and inevitably him as well. time for me to ramble yayy yayy

meant to post this earlier i just was fussing over names. i have concluded that the colloquial name for all these together is inflorescence longlegs because that means that i still get to use the acronym ILL and thats cool i thinks. proto-rot is creeping longlegs, then in order of size smallest to largest is sprout longlegs, flowering longlegs, and wilting longlegs. they're a sort of mutated vine, one which was pretty common on osa's grounds, but he got just a Little screwed over by astronomically low odds. vine turned into rot naturally as certain background environmental conditions on his grounds make that something that happens from time to time (in more than just vines - any organism). the atypical and astronomically low odds part comes from the fact that it did not resolve itself, because when this occurs on his grounds it's usually such a small sample produced that quickly dies or is otherwise destroyed. in this case, by the time it becomes noticeable to him, it's already grown too quickly to be easily fixed.

because of it occurring naturally, a lot of properties and behaviors are retained from what it was originally. this is mostly because it's scarier that way and i made osa for me to project my nightmares onto👍

for visual - osa's grounds are mostly a tight thicket of bushes and shrubs that are adapted to a higher latitude environment. the thicket provided a fair amount of shelter for the ILLs until the infestation had a sizeable population. a common behavior seen in all ILL specimens, proto or not, is that they try to climb up other plants as they infest them, something retained from being a vine. additionally, when they have infested a significant amount of one shrub, they will start trying to spread to find another by growing on the ground in arches (top right) which is another thing based off of certain vines. they're green because they also can still photosynthesize, though because of high energy needs this is only sustainable for smaller specimens and really only means they can survive longer in a starving state. also, they're very thorny, which makes mobile cysts move slower, and they typically prefer not to move much anyways aside from the wilting longlegs. because they originate from a plant, they're all weaker physically, i think a sprout longlegs you could probably spear to death very easily in one cycle if you had enough spears to expend, and none of them are explosive resistant. fighting any of them with explosives in a particularly large thicket of rot though (or a wilting long legs) is something i would not advise though ;3c.

while slls are parallel to blls, flls to dlls, etc, there's a few distinctions worth making. sprout longlegs and flowering longlegs are very small, with sprout longlegs being probably roughly a bit larger than the size of a squidcada and flowering longlegs being the size of blls or a small dll. wilting longlegs are dll/tll sized. flowering longlegs don't break down into sprout longlegs when starving either (though a wilting longlegs may break down into a group of flowering longlegs), and they occur differently. sprout longlegs are commonly found outside of or on the edge of rot thickets and are common in clusters, as they are all cysts that were broken off the main patches by rain, and very few became mobile through normal means. sprout longlegs are though, like blls, completely senseless, and they don't pose a significant threat - i like to imagine they do have a tendency to fall when they start moving as they have the least amount of thorns though, so the majority of their threat comes from falling from above. flowering longlegs occur via normal means, just cysts that became mobile. they have the ability to hear, and in particularly heavy thickets of creeping longlegs they can also have what is effectively telepathy. think orange lizard. wilting longlegs are similar to flowering longlegs here, they're just much much larger cysts that became mobile, in some instances they may even be cysts that have completely consumed a shrub or bush and then became mobile, hence their size.

wilting longlegs.. :3. they can hear, and regardless of where they are, they're large enough to exhibit telepathy towards each other. wilting longlegs are the most aggressive as their ability to photosynthesize is entirely unsustainable for them - a sprout longlegs will last fine consuming things minimally, a flowering longlegs can last though will eventually start starving, wilting longlegs MUST consume however. their size and energy need is too costly and they're practically always on the edge of a starving state. an additional ability is that their toxicity is extremely concentrated - all ILLs produce toxins, as the vine they originate from did. in most instances, it only becomes a significant threat when consuming them. sprout longlegs are a similar effect to the ingame mushroom effects, flowering longlegs would be similar to the effects hunter experiences when rotting. wilting longlegs, due to their size, produce it the most, and it becomes dangerous to creatures that are grabbed by them. because they are covered in it, even if the creature breaks free, they will experience effects of the toxin shortly after. it's not life-threatening, but it would cause temporary immobility, like spitter spider spit does, alongside the psychoactive effects. wilting longlegs are escapable, but they present a greater hazard than a tll does.

said effects also apply to iterators. which osa learns pretty hard. because he can't ever find a fix to the issue, and his group members become too scared to put effort into helping him, he ends up having to deal with it alone. and the infestation reaches him initially through his intake system, but he can flush it out to prevent it from taking hold. it still damages his systems when it does get in, in very small amounts, and the damages accumulate until there's nothing he can do about it getting in. as more and more rot grows and damages him, he also becomes poisoned by it, and suffers from that as well. and the entire time he's terrified of it, even before it starts reaching him, that combined with the negligence of his group members is why he's a vicious jerk. not evil but he isn't in his right mind from the pressure of how terrifying his situation is from his perspective + inevitably becoming sick too. he was pretty unremarkable before, especially considering he's the oldest one in his group - i'd say senior but i'm still not sure if that's a fanon thing or not? i dont wanna accidentally take someone else's ideas by referring to him as that lol

but. i figured i'd make this as a reference and then also as an excuse to ramble about my nightmares goober🙌yay. it didnt make sense to not have significant depth to the nightmare-inspired parts so i fixed it :3

nvm just remembered the thing i forgot to put. also while their starving colors are not shown here, they shift into a more autumnal/stressed set of colors and become significantly lighter and more desaturated as well. wilting longlegs are the ones you'd find with these colors most often and they're already somewhat adjacent to it. just cuz i think it's cool

[raevenlyreads]

Seasonal Circle Read Sample

For the Seasonal Circle Spread, the entire deck is spread out in a circle and key points along the wheel are read. Usually this spread is read from turn of season to turn of season (from start of spring to start of summer, for example), but it can be done at any time. I use my intuition to determine the best start and end points if this reading is done mid-season.

For this reading (done mid-May), I read a teeny bit back to hit May Day, then forward for the 1st of June, Solstice, 1st of July, 1st of August, and the potential rewards to be reaped in the upcoming season thereafter.

Want your own Seasonal Circle Spread? Check out my ko-fi page

Read on for the full spread and interpretations

May Day

May Day brought you the energy of the Hierophant. A good time to get things in order, you may already have felt this season bringing focus for new projects and building new habits.

First of June

June comes in with the energy of the Ten of Pentacles. Goals you have been working towards for a long time are coming into fruition.

Solstice

Solstice (June 20th this year) will bring a shift in fortunes. If you've made good use of the Hierophant and Ten of Pentacles energy, you will be prepared to weather the storms and reap the rewards of fortune smiling upon you.

First of July

The Four of Pentacles warns us to be careful of being miserly. Perhaps you put something away in preparation for the turning of The Wheel; now is the time to reevaluate using it. What is held onto is never lost, but it never grows, either.

First of August

The Moon suggests that all is not as it seems. Beware of tricksters, or deals that seem too good to be true.

Upcoming Season

If you play this season right, you will be rewarded with a new opportunity in the next. A new friendship or partnership is on the horizon, provided you've not stretched yourself too thin. This summer’s lesson is discernment, being able to determine true gold from all else that glitters. Recall the ant and the grasshopper, and remember that there is a balance to be had between work and play. While the ant may be full all winter, we are not ants. There is bounty enough to store some away for later and also to use some of your resources now to live your life and enjoy it.

-

Big thank you to all my volunteer querents for allowing me to use their readings for samples. You can find more samples under the tag #raevs sample reads, and can learn more about commissioning me for a read on my ko-fi page (or send me an ask here, I love answering questions about readings, decks, and all things tarot!)

[shadeysprings]

𝑻𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝑳𝒐𝒚𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒔

—𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐅!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 — 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 '𝐀 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰'? 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 to you 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐥, 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐬. There may be more so please 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

𝐀/𝐍 — 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 @the-slumberparty's 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 @mochie85'𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐂𝐮𝐭𝐞.

𝐒𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐅𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 | 𝐈𝐭𝐞𝐦: 𝐏𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝐀𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲'𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲! ❤️

The summer festival is in full swing with laughter from both the young and the old bouncing in the air, mixing along with the screams of excitement coming from the patrons aboard the rollercoaster—the newest addition to the summer affair. Even several of the local small businesses join in on the rabble, a refreshing sight to see other than the food stalls and game posts that are a staple in the event.

It’s your third time this year in participating. Selling your baked goods amongst the other veterans and to your surprise, the line is much longer than the last, a craving instilled into your customers for your signature ube and coconut cupcakes. Such a treat has been in your family for years; passed on from your great-grandmother and down the line to you. And it fills your heart with joy to see the faces of your clients when they take that first bite.

You’re even lucky to have your stall set at the end of the row. Not as crowded as the ones found at the center and with enough space to accommodate the queue that’s slowly growing.

You grab another container from your cooler and set them neatly into rows in the display case atop your table. It’s not yet noon and you’re already down to your last two batches, ready to set the next ones. But Wanda is running late and you look at your watch to check the time, grunting in frustration yet keeping up the positive facade.

The little girl standing next in line calls your attention and you give her the brightest smile when you notice her face paint and the blue princess dress she dons. She orders a box of six cupcakes along with a bag of ube crinkles. The cuteness she displays when she counts her change on your table tugs at your heartstrings that you couldn’t help but give her a freebie; one of your heart-shaped cookies.

“Should you really be giving out free samples?” 

“Should you really be running late?” You quip after waving goodbye to the little girl, turning around and crossing your arms over your chest when you face Wanda who stands with the cooler in her hands.

She gives you an awkward yet apologetic smile and you huff out a breath before pointing at the spot where she should place the plastic container.

“What took you so long?” You ask, showing her your obvious annoyance. “You were just supposed to pick up the cupcakes.”

“Why don’t you try loading that heavy thing in the car by yourself? It wasn’t easy.” She gives you a pout before focusing her attention on the next customer.

“I have. Countless times.”

“Well, it’s my first time.” She says while waving goodbye to the woman. “At least be gentle with me.”

You give her a pat on the back before tugging playfully at the end of her hair. “I am being gentle.” You say with a laugh. 

Another customer comes by, ordering two boxes this time, and you busy in packing up their purchase while Wanda takes their payment. For the remainder of the morning, that’s all you both do—entertaining your clientele, packing up orders, and seeing them off with a bright smile on your face. But it soon fades as noon arrives, beads of sweat forming on the nape of your neck and dripping down your shirt as the temperature rises along with the sun. 

Wanda asks to leave for lunch, asking you if you wanted anything from the neighboring stalls. You think twice about the decision, your appetite being non-existent as exhaustion completely takes over your body. But the aroma is not one you can ignore, the savory and fried wafting heavenly in the stolid heat. 

Eventually, you cave; asking Wanda to grab you anything to eat but specifically request for a blue lemonade slushie from Rico’s stand. 

Once the last of your goods are sold, you put out your ‘Be Right Back’ sign and drop down onto the folding chair with a heavy sigh. You grab your water bottle from inside one of the coolers and take a large sip, tempted to drench yourself in the cool liquid instead to stave away the heat. The work is tiring, you have to admit, but it definitely pays off. 

“Oh, what time are you opening again?” A woman asks as she steps in front of your stand, eyes perusing the menu written on the small chalkboard. You immediately sit up and look down at your watch to give her the time. 

“You can come back at around 1 PM. We’re just taking a quick lunch break.” You tell her to which she acknowledges with a nod and grabbing one of your shop flyers before walking off. 

You slouch once again, pressing the cool bottle against your face while you rest. But your respite is once more interrupted when you notice in your periphery another figure standing by your stall. 

“We’re just taking a quick break,” you begin to explain. “But we’ll be back at around—” but your words die on your lips when you see who your visitor is. “What are you doing here?!” You snarl and quickly stand from your seat, hissing when you accidentally hit your knee against the table.

It’s him! Your stalker! 

You take a cautious step back, your fight or flight response coming to life.

“Be careful, cupcake.” A grin forms on his lips as he tucks a hand into his pocket. You see your face reflecting from the aviators perched on his eyes, covering them for anyone to see. But you know full well that he’s watching you intently like he shamelessly always does. “You wouldn’t want to hurt yourself.”

“How many times have I told you to leave me alone, you creep?!” Your voice raises an octave, feeling your heart race from anger and fear.

“I just stopped by to say hi. Is that so bad?” He says while tilting his head to the side, chuckling in amusement. “Besides, I wanted to see how you’re stall is doing.” He runs a finger against the surface of the empty display case then stops at the center, tapping on it with a fingernail, the sound taunting you. 

“Can’t you see we’re sold out?” You openly express your displeasure of his presence, too riled up to even care if anyone is watching your exchange.

“That’s too bad—I would have bought a box for myself.” He hums then a chill runs up your spine when he sends you a smirk. “But then again, there’s only one kind of cupcake I’ve been wanting to taste and I believe that one is available.”

Your vision goes red at the vulgar comment he made and you don’t think twice about getting close and lifting your hand to finally give him a piece of your mind. But he catches on to you quickly and grabs your wrist, taking the other one when you raise it all the same. He pulls you closer, your face only inches from his,  and you groan in as you struggle to pull away from his grasp. 

“Do you really want to cause a scene here, cupcake?” He slithers. “Where so many can see how violent you are?”

“Let me go, you fucker!”

“Such a dirty mouth.” He tuts and moves to pull you further over the table, trapping your arms to your sides when he wraps an arm tightly around you. You move your face away when he reaches up and caresses your face, your eyes widening as he keeps you in place, his thumb rubbing circles on the apple of your cheek. “We’ll have to fix that soon or you can show me just how filthy that mouth of yours can really be.”

The edge of the table digs into your hips when he pulls you closer, inhaling sharply when he presses his nose against your temple and takes a sniff of your hair. The hand on your face moves once more, his thumb pressing against your lips. Quickly, you part your lips wide and try to catch it between your teeth. But he’s fast, pushing you away effortlessly and you stagger back, losing your balance and toppling over the metal chair that hits the back of your thighs.

“Tsk tsk. You’re so clumsy, cupcake.” he laughs.

“I’ve got our food!!” Wanda’s excited voice suddenly comes and you turn to face her, immediately running to her side as panic settles in your nerves once again.

“Wanda! Quick! Call the cops!” You say in a rush, clutching onto her tight. “Hurry!”

“Hey! Be careful!” She scolds and pries her arm away from you. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You almost had me drop an amazing burrito!” 

“He’s—” You point to where the man once stood and take a step back in shock when you see him gone.

You look around frantically, scanning through the sea of people, and try to spot the light blue button-up shirt you noticed him wearing, even being cautious of any man that had their hair tied up in a bun.

But you don’t see him. Like he somehow vanished into thin air. Yet even with his sudden absence, you can still feel his palpable presence. You may not see him but you definitely know he’s watching you, like a predator would its prey, waiting for the right opportunity to attack.

“Who’s what?” Wanda asks as she sets the containers of food and drinks atop the lid of the cooler. “Why do you want me to call the cops?”

You look into her eyes, your own wide with fear. “He’s here, Wanda! He— He’s—” Your chest begins to constrict, feeling the air around you grow thin that you grab onto the neck of your shirt and yank on it hard in order for you to breathe.

He got closer this time. Touched you even. He’s never done that before in the years of him following you around, only stayed in his lane, and left as soon as you told him off. But now, it’s different—he looked more bold and more confident, your apprehension growing bigger and stronger that he would finally do something that would end up with you getting hurt. 

“Whoa, babe.” Wanda coos as she places both of her hands on your shoulders. “Breathe with me, okay? Slowly.” She instructs and you obey, following her lead as she slowly breathes in and out, keeping your eyes locked in her green ones.

Your anxiety eventually dies down and your chest feels somewhat looser from the exercise. Yet the memory remains at the forefront of your mind, his touch lingering on your skin. She guides you to sit, Wanda kneeling in front of you and you flinch when she places a cold plastic cup between your hands, making you look down at the yellow slush that’s already starting to melt.

“Now. Tell me what happened.” She prompts. “What got you all worked up?”

You swallow thickly, unsure if you should say anything to her at all. As terrifying as the situation is, you’ve kept it all to yourself, especially after the local police department turned you away, telling you that they can only do something if threats of physical harm have been made. But you couldn’t produce anything, not even a photo nor a name for them to search—ultimately deeming your situation a nuisance.

But the sincerity you see in Wanda’s eyes as you rethinking your decision of bottling it all up again. You may have only known her for a short period but you feel the bond you have forged with her to be strong. If there’s anyone you can trust, it would be her.

With shaky hands, you set down the now melted slushie on top of the cooler and hold onto her hands tight, Wanda doing just the same with her attention solely on you. Her grip is strong, firm, and you feel the tension coiled around you slowly seep away. 

Taking a deep breath, you begin. “I have a stalker.”

The information seems to take her off guard, shock evident on her face. But she immediately schools her features and you take the gentle squeeze she gives your hands as a sign to continue. 

“He’s been following me for years now but he hasn’t done anything drastic.” A lump forms at the base of your throat as you’re transported back to the event earlier—how he grabbed and touched you, coming closer than you ever expected. “Until now.”

“What do you mean?” She asks. “Have you told the cops?”

“I did, but they refused to look into it further. I provide them any of what they were asking.”

“You mean to tell me you don’t have a picture of this man?” 

You shake your head.

“How come? If what you say is true and he’s been stalking you for a while now, shouldn’t you have already grabbed some evidence at this point?”

Her question comes off as accusing, making you think that maybe telling her wasn’t such a good idea. Still, you push on and refuse to be blamed for the stranger's inexcusable actions.

“You don’t understand, Wanda. When I see him, or when I know he’s watching me, I panic—I don’t think about taking my phone and snapping pictures.” You explain, hoping she would understand your reason. “All I could think of at that moment is to run away and hide.” Tears begin welling in your eyes and you release her hands, gripping down on your own to try and stop your emotions from boiling over.

“Okay—okay,” Her voice is soft as if she’s talking to a wounded animal while her hand caresses your arm. “Uhh, if you don’t mind telling me, what else has he done? Just watching and following?”

“Just?” You ask in disbelief.

“No, no—” She sighs and shuts her eyes tight as if trying to grasp the right words to say. “What I meant was, has he ever tried following you to your place? Like to your door or something? Any break-ins that happened?”

You shake your head. 

Wanda hums in thought and you startle when a wide smile forms on her lips, her hands taking yours once again. 

“I think I can help you.” She says with much enthusiasm.

“Huh? How?”

You watch as the blond man—Steve, if you remember his name correctly—installs the security camera by your bedroom window and a couple more in the living room, your kitchen, and by your bedroom door. When Wanda first proposed the idea, you found it a little too intense but after another incident the same night you came home from the festival, you immediately called her up and agreed to her proposal.

He showed up once again, this time, standing in wait at your parking spot. He was still wearing the same outfit as the one you saw him in earlier that day—a light blue button-up and white tank top hidden underneath. His brown hair was worn in a bun and the facial hair was partially trimmed, another characteristic you took note of as well as the gold chain hanging around his neck.

He looks very much well off, like a respectable business owner of some sort and it joggles your mind, thinking, that if he is what you suspect him to be, as to why he’s posing such a creepy disposition. But then again, one shouldn’t judge a book by its cover and for all you know, this could simply be a facade, a character he’s made of himself to throw you off.

He never said or did anything to further add to the tension that was once more building in your veins. He only stood there for a whole minute and while you sat frozen in your driver’s seat. You could never forget the smirk he had on his face then, as if he was taunting you, challenging you to get out of your car. But he soon waved his hand, amusement heavy on his face before walking away. 

You waited a little bit more before getting out of your car, even leaving the empty coolers in your trunk as you ran in haste towards the elevator, afraid that he would show up once more. But it’s only when you got into your apartment and latched all the locks in place that you realized you forgot to take his picture to give to the authorities. Another missed opportunity, another loss on your part, and victory on his. 

That’s when you called Wanda and told her of what happened, agreeing in an instant to her proposal for security. 

The sound of the electric drill fills the silence of your apartment. As the last screw is set in its place, with Steve admiring his handiwork and then tucking away his tools, you slowly feel the sense of relief drape over you. 

You turn to face Wanda, wanting to thank her for the effort she’s putting into keeping you safe. But the look on her face has you reeling back, noticing how her eyes are focused intently on the main camera that faces your bedroom.

“Wanda?” She blinks and looks at you when you call her name. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah—why?”

“Nothing.” You shrug and walk towards her, giving her arm a gentle poke. “You looked pretty serious for a while. Is something on your mind?”

“Indeed. Is something wrong, Wanda?” Steve echoes your sentiment and you’re slightly taken aback by the questioning, somewhat castigating, look on his face.

She seems to remember herself and the seriousness that once took over her fades almost in an instant, a wide smile pushing the corners of her lips upward. “Oh, it’s nothing.” She laughs and laces her arms around one of yours. “Just hoping that this would help ease your situation, babe.”

“It definitely will,” Steve interjects, his voice strong and certain. “These are high-quality equipment that will be able to track and capture every moment inside the apartment and outside your window. And it was created by my very good friend, Vision. So, I am certain there would be no flaws.” The grin on Steve’s face is wide when he says the name, and you look at Wanda when she gasps, her hold on you tightening. 

“Vision?” You repeat in question. “You know him?” You ask your friend.

“Uhh, yeah—just some guy Steve introduced before.” Her voice quivers and she releases you, taking a step forward towards the tall blond. “How is he? Is he doing okay?”

“He also said to not forget about installing the app on her phone so she can check in on the cameras from time to time,” Steve adds, ignoring Wanda’s query altogether, and walks towards your front door. “If there is nothing else, I’ll be on my way.”

“Thank you—uhh, Steve, for all your help.” You trail after him and see him out the door. “Is there any way I can repay you?”

“Just install the app.” He demands as he looks at you with a raised eyebrow, before looking in Wanda’s direction who straightens at his attention. “We’re counting on you, Wanda.” He adds before walking out of your apartment. 

You make a face as you shut the door, heading over to the couch where Wanda sits and taking the space beside her. 

“What’s up with that dude?” You groan, shaking your head to ease off the weird encounter. “Is he always that bossy? Where did you even meet him? And who’s we? Who’s counting on you?”

“Oh, Steve’s just really a no-bullshit kind of guy.” She explains then rummages through her bag when a ping sounds from within. “He’s always been like that—where’s your phone?” 

The sudden switch in the conversation has you frowning, looking down at Wanda’s hand when she holds it out to you. You notice how her cheerful demeanor was almost nonexistent as soon as Steve walked into the apartment. She was quiet and pensive and you wouldn’t have noticed the strain in her if she didn’t squeeze your arm when he mentioned that stranger’s name.

“Babe, phone?” She asks again, quite eager this time and you relent, taking the device from your back pocket and handing it to her. 

She quickly takes it and then hands it back, shaking the phone as she silently asks you to unlock it. Once you enter the code, she grabs it back and stalks away from you, holding her own device in her hands and typing on yours vigorously. As soon as she finishes, she lets out a relieved sigh, the smile back on her face, and stalks back to where you sit. 

“There. Now be sure to keep your phone on at all times or the cameras won’t work.” She instructs, taking the seat beside yours and leaning back against it. “From what Steve told me, the power of the security system relies solely on the app. So, if you want to catch your stalker, you gotta keep that baby on and with you at all times.”

It’s the first time you’ve heard of such technology. Aren’t security cameras powered by electricity? Why would they stop working if your phone died? You should have asked for more details from Steve before he left but that brusque front he was showing already made you feel like you were intruding—even if he was the one who entered your home. 

So you ask Wanda. 

“Why would my phone power the cameras?”

She simply shrugs and grabs the remote of the television, turning it on and flicking to select your streaming service. “I don’t know. It's just what they told me—what do you want to watch?”

There it is again. We. They. Who are these people that Wanda refuses to tell you of?

“Who’s they?” You ask.

“Bucky and—” She pauses and sits up, as if aware of what she said. “I mean, the guys selling it. This is still a prototype, you see, and I offered them your place as a testing ground.”

“Eh? Testing?” You frown and look up at the cameras. “But what if it doesn’t work?”

“Trust me, it will. We’re friends, right?” She says confidently, flicking through the options once more on the television. “Would I ever lie to you?”

Weeks have passed since your last encounter with your stalker—which, as weird as it sounds, you find very unusual. After being so used to his intruding presence, you’d expect him to show up in the places you expect him to be; outside your apartment building or even across the street from your bakeshop, waiting for you to close up. 

But so far, he’s been missing and you can’t help but feel a slight sense of relief. Still, you continue to keep your guard up. Still looking over your shoulder and cautiously scanning your surroundings when you drive or walk back home. He could simply be toying with you, making it seem like he’s vanished then surprise you one day in the most horrific way. 

Even so, you’re thankful for the peace and cling to the hope that he’s finally given up. You even check the camera feed religiously, just to be certain of his absence. And what you see, or rather, what you don’t see has you smiling and encourages you to go on with your daily activities with ease. 

The bell of the bakeshop chimes and you smile from behind the counter when you see Wanda strutting in, a popsicle in her hand. You’re about to greet her when she tosses one towards you, grabbing it with clumsy hands and frowning at her unexpected yet tasty surprise. 

“Couldn’t you have just given it to me properly?” You chide. “Like a normal human being?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” She laughs and leans her hip against the counter from the other side, looking around lazily. “Dead time?”

“Pretty much.” You unwrap the popsicle from the foil and give it a tentative lick, a smile gracing your lips at the taste. Mango. “Lunchtime just finished. Besides, I think the heat is making people stay in their homes.”

“Why don’t you close up early today then? My friend is throwing a party at their place and you should come! We can drink to celebrate!”

“Party? Celebrate?” You ask while giving her a confused look. “What will we be celebrating?”

“Your freedom, of course! Your stalker hasn’t shown up in a while, right? Isn’t that worth celebrating?”

“I guess—but what if he shows up while we’re outside?” Worry slowly starts trickling in. It’s different when you’re doing mundane things, you’re more vigilant, more aware. But with the presence of alcohol? You’re sure to be in a more vulnerable state. “I don’t think it’s a good ide—”

“Relax. It’s perfectly safe.” The smile on her face is wide, her lips tainted pink from the popsicle she licks. 

“I don’t know.” You frown, feeling uneasy with the invitation. “Can’t we just celebrate at my place? Just the two of us? I’m not really comfortable going somewhere until I’m sure that man is gone.”

She sighs, disappointment evident on her face though you see her think as if considering your counteroffer. So you try to latch onto that hope and add another enticing detail that you know she wouldn’t be able to resist. 

“If you say yes, I’ll give you a box of my cupcakes every time you ask for some.” You say with much conviction. “Free of charge.”

Her eyes sparkle then and you believe she’s caught your bait. When she rolls her eyes and gives you a nod, you give her a wide smile, licking on the popsicle that’s already started to melt in your hand. 

“Alright, fine.” She agrees. “But I’m choosing the drinks for tonight and you can’t say no to that.”

You laugh. “Deal.”

You laugh as Wanda dances along to the music playing in the background, walking over to the kitchen to pour both of you a glass of the vintage she brought. The pop of the cork surprises you even as you expect it and a smile forms on your lips when the bouquet of the wine kisses your nose. Fancy stuff.

Wanda was right about relaxing for it has been a while since you’ve had the time to really let loose. With the stress of running your business along with the fear that your stalker brought, your life has been in such a knot that truly, you’ve forgotten how to live. 

You hand Wanda her glass and she grins widely when she accepts it. You lift your own glass to your lips and take a tentative sip, your eyes widening in surprise when Wanda tips the glass upward, almost choking as you drink the entire glass. 

You gasp for air when she pulls away, giggling when you glare at her and she looks back at you, feigning innocence. 

“What was that for?” You whine. “I almost choked!”

“But you didn’t.” She grins and sets her glass down by the pizza boxes. “I’m just helping you let loose.”

“Why aren’t you drinking yours?” 

“I’ll have mine after I have food. And besides, you need it more than I do.” She laughs and takes a seat on the couch, sitting down beside her with a pout when she pats the space next to her.

You lean forward to grab a slice from the box then stop when your head begins to spin, feeling it grow heavy that you clutch on it, confused as to what is happening. You groan at the discomfort that slowly envelopes you and you feel a sense of panic when your vision blurs, making you blink hard twice to try and push it away; but it’s no use.

You groan when you hear Wanda say your name, looking over to face her but not seeing her. You try to speak, to call out for help, but no words come from your throat. Helplessness and confusion plague you as you feel your body slump over the chaise.

What did Wanda do? 

“Sorry..” You face the direction from where you heard the voice but your eyesight has already failed, only seeing a jumbled blend of colors. 

A hand on your arm has you flinching and you moan when you feel another caress your cheek. You squint to attempt once more to see what Wanda is doing but what comes into your view has you freezing in terror. For it’s not Wanda holding you in their arms but the man you’ve been fearing for years. 

He’s finally got you and you have no way of escaping.

A rocking sensation stirs you awake and a moan trickles from your lips. Your head still feels heavy and your body aches as you slowly resurface from the void that has taken over you. Confusion runs wild, and rightly so, for you don’t recognize where you are; the concrete walls are completely alien, darkness shrouding the rest of the unknown space except for the muted lamp that shines at your side. 

The rocking continues, back and forth you move against a soft surface. You’re still disoriented but that soon all fades when his face comes into view, the last face you saw before going unconscious, with a wide grin on his face and his blue eyes blown wide with lust and desire.

It was no dream! It truly is him! 

A garbled moan escapes you once more when he jerks his hips, having you realize the state that you’re in—naked and bound on a bed that isn’t yours, in a place you don’t know—and what this man is doing. He doesn’t stop, his movements only going faster and harder, your pussy walls pulsing around his cock that continues to slide in and out, again and again, taking more and more of what you refuse to give.

“S…stop—” you try to protest, you try to scream, but your throat is dry and tight, and no words form despite your efforts. 

You try to kick your legs to fend him off and pull yourself away but you can’t feel them. You’re limp and at his mercy, tears spilling from your eyes as he pushes on with his sinful deed and you begging continuously for him to stop, to release you. But they only fall on deaf ears.

“It’s okay, cupcake.” He groans low, leaning down to have his face closer to yours as he rests his elbows on either side of your head. “You don’t have to be afraid.” He says before thrusting deep inside of you, making you groan as your pelvis aches from his strength. “It’s just me.”

You pull your face away when he bows his head, his lips pressing against your temple when he locks himself in place. He cradles you with his body and you bite your tongue to stop the string of moans from leaving your lips but only fail miserably when he quickens his pace. Once, twice, thrice, and more, he takes you further. The tingling sensation stirring in the pit of your stomach has you hating yourself.

“P—please, let me go.” You beg, crying when he moves a hand to grab on your tit. Squeezing, kneading, rolling his thumb against the nipple that stiffens at his attention and you gasp upon feeling the unwanted pleasure cocoon you in spite of your reluctance. 

“I can’t do that, cupcake.” He says in a strained voice, the sound of skin slapping against each other filling your ears and you grab tight unto your restraints when he pounds roughly into you. Your walls clench, aching at his continued intrusion. And you grit your teeth when you reach that high, ecstasy completely taking over you that you suddenly come hard around him. 

He follows soon after, spilling deep into your core with his moans of pleasure bouncing through the walls. You think he’s done, that he’ll finally let you go as he already took what he wanted. But he doesn’t pull away, instead nestling himself completely between your thighs and you mewl when he gives another thrust, his hips moving as he fucks his come into you. 

“Now that I have you,” he’s breathless as he speaks, hands moving to caress your face before pinching your chin and forcing you to face him; your monster. He places a soft kiss against your lips, eyes wandering over your face, like a man obsessing over his prize. “Why would I let you go?”

That was days ago, probably weeks when he finally captured you. 

The man, Bucky or James—you don’t care, as you found out his name is, keeping you prisoner, caged like an animal in the room underneath his home. Naked and afraid, with the darkness and the cold surrounding you and only being blessed with the light when he would visit once in the morning and another at night. 

The torment was too much to bare at times but you kept fighting, clinging to the sliver of hope that you would one day escape his clutches and run away from everything and begin a new life. But as the days went by, your resolve started to dwindle. You realized that there was no use trying to fight him for each time you would, he would only fight back stronger, harder, and leave you battered, bruised, and used only for him to do it all over again.

Until one day, he came with a trade-off.

“Peace.” He said and you watched him intently, weakly, as he sat on the stool in front of you, setting down a paper bag he brought with him.

You listened to him. “Freedom,” he whispered and your eyes grew wide as the seven-letter word bore deep into your soul. Freedom from the hell he’s kept you in. Freedom from the agony that slowly peeled away your sanity. A life—one you knew before, to be able to do the things you once loved.

But in exchange, your hand. To spend eternity with the man that stalked you and forced you to live in fear. To vow to love him and serve him, to be the wife he always wanted you to be. 

Is it truly freedom he offered? Or simply another cell to keep you in? You already knew the answer to that and you knew very well that your life was in the palm of his hand. He made sure of that, planned everything to the tee for he’s done everything to keep you alive, with only him as the judge of when you’d meet your demise. 

You wince when your hands throb as you mix the cupcake batter in the bowl. The marks on your wrists are still visible, though slightly healed. You focus on the task at hand to drown away the demons of the past, burying them deep down where no one, not even you, could see it and keep yourself afloat in the present.

It’s not the life you wanted, but one you expected. Bucky did uphold his end of the bargain—a roof over your head and food in your belly, a mansion for you to go as you pleased, and the gold band sitting snugly on your finger; a constant reminder of his power and what you’ve now become. 

You hear the front door open, chatter filling the silence of the big house. You know it’s Bucky—he’s home after several days of being away for work. Though it’s not his voice that has you on edge, but Wanda’s. 

And her presence is confirmed when you look up and see her standing by the doorway to the kitchen. A tall, blond man stands beside her, one you haven’t seen before, almost leaning against her as she looks at you with shock painted on her face. 

She did this. She betrayed you. A monster in sheep’s clothing that didn’t think twice about throwing you to the wolves. She was your safety net. Your confidant through trying times. But you were stupid and nothing more than a bargaining chip—a deal brokered by the two; you in exchange for her lover’s life.

“Why don’t you and Vision wait in my study? Steve’s already in there.” You hear Bucky tell her and you resume finishing the cupcakes you were preparing for your husband’s return. “I will just greet my wife.”

The sound of footsteps clack against the marble floors and you sense Bucky coming closer while pouring the batter into their molds and turning to the over to stow them inside. You begin clearing up your mess, putting away the equipment you’ve used when you suddenly gasp upon feeling two strong arms wrap around your waist.

You force a smile and put on the facade of a happy wife, placing your hand over Bucky’s and giving his knuckles a gentle caress, feeling the hard surface of his ring against your fingertips.

“I missed you, Mrs. Barnes,” He breathes, moving to press his face on the crook of your neck, your skin rippling in disgust when he plants a kiss on it. “I hope you missed me too.”

“Of course, I did, Mr. Barnes.” You respond automatically. “I even baked you your favorite for your return.”

“My wife is so sweet.” He chuckles, your breath hitching when his hands begin roaming across your middle. “You’re always so good to me, cupcake. You were made to be mine.” He sways you both from side to side, dancing despite the absence of music but the feel of his erection digging against the curve of your behind as you move forward, to which he stops by pulling you back against him. 

“It was supposed to be a surprise.” You begin initiating conversation, hoping for it to be a distraction. “But you arrived a little too early. I hope I didn’t disappoint you.”

“Disappoint me? Never.” He coos. “I’m the one who should be apologizing for ruining your surprise.” He presses another kiss on your neck. “But I have something better in mind that could be my welcome home treat.” Your heart beats hard against your chest when his hand snakes down your yellow sundress, only for him to pull on the skirt and bunch them over your waist. 

He growls when you stop his hand, moving once more to turn and face him instead. But he traps you against the edge of the counter, with his hand cupping your clothed cunt and his fingers exploring, rubbing against your clit.

You try to suppress the moans that force their way out of your lips but fail, his persistence crowding over you and you grip the marble surface when he pulls your panties to the side and press his thumb against your swollen bud. 

“Don’t you have a meeting with Steve and the others?” You ask, hoping he would stop and give you a reprieve. Even when he was gone for days, you’re not yet ready to have him back. 

“They can wait.” He snarls and you gasp, your back arching against his chest when he slips a finger past your folds, his touch sending ripples of dread through your skin. “But I can’t.”

I no longer keep a tag list but if you want to be kept updated on my fics, follow my side blog @springlibrary and turn on notifications.

[indigostudies]

What are those apps you usually post in your productivity updates?

hi! here's a breakdown of apps i use, as well as websites and other resources i've used/use for my learning (mainly chinese, though some of these resources can be used for other languages as well).

apps i use every day:

dot languages: this is a chinese-specific app where you select your hsk level, and then read articles at that level. there's a pop-up dictionary, an option to show pinyin, post-article vocab practice (audio, matching, translation, and writing), and the option to have your articles either in simplified or traditional.

TOFU learn: a blend between flashcards and writing, you can find decks for various things, including hsk level-specific decks, and you learn new vocab with the stroke order and then write each new term three times—once with an overlay (so the term is visible), and then two times from memory. there's also a review function, which helps you practice terms you've already learnt, and each term has audio that goes with it. i use it for chinese, but there's decks for esperanto, french, german, italian, japanese, korean, norweigian, portuguese, russian, spanish, swedish, and turkish.

the pleco dictionary app: my favourite chinese dictionary app; allows you to translate from english to chinese or chinese to english, has options for writing, radical, vocal, and keyboard entry, and has both traditional and simplified characters.

ankiapp: this one's not particularly complicated; it's a flashcard app, where you can make your own decks or download decks other people have made. it uses a spaced repetition system to help you remember terms—you rate yourself from worst to best on how well you remembered the term, and that determines how many times it'll pop up afterwards. it also gives you an overall grade for each deck, which is a nice way to measure your progress.

duolingo: probably my least favourite of all of the apps i use; the chinese course isn't the best, and now that they've removed the notes/grammar information option, there's no way for people who aren't already fairly familiar with the language and its inner workings to learn them if they exclusively use duolingo. it's okay for maintenance practice, though, but i'm already almost finished with the entire course and i would say it barely reaches to lower hsk 4, so i wouldn't say it's a good tool if you're more advanced.

apps i have but use less often:

readibu: this is sort of like dot in that it's an app for reading in chinese with a pop-up dictionary. however, that's where the similarities end; readibu has novels, short stories, and articles aimed at children, and each of those are further split into genres. readibu also lets you add your own web-pages and read them on the app, so you can use its pop-up dictionary with them. it's aimed more to intermediate and upper intermediate learners, with hsk levels ranging from hsk 4 to hsk 6. the only reason i rate dot above readibu is because dot has a larger range of levels (hsk 1 through hsk 6 i believe? but it may go higher) and exercises built in to help you learn the vocab.

the chairman's bao: also a chinese reading app, though if you use the free version, you only get one sample article per hsk level (hsk 1 - hsk 6). i believe that every so often you get a new sample article for each level, but i'm not sure what the interval on that is. it also has a pop-up dictionary and a flashcard option for saved vocab.

du chinese: another chinese reading app; it has articles divided into newbie through master (six levels in total, though they don't line up perfectly with the hsk in my experience), and new articles are free for a certain period of time before becoming locked behind a paywall. there's a pop-up dictionary and a vocab review/test option for vocab you save.

memrise: flashcards with audio, depending on whether you're using an official course or a user-generated deck. decent, but it can get repetitive.

hellotalk: not exclusively chinese, but i believe it started off mainly aimed that way. you set your language, and then your target language, and then you can talk to native speakers who have your language as their target language. potentially incredibly useful, but if you're like me and extremely introverted you may have a hard time using this app, since it requires a lot of one-on-one interaction.

slowly: i haven't actually gotten around to using this, but it's sort of like a digital penpal app, as i understand it. you can learn more about it here.

websites and other miscellanea:

this massive mega drive by @salvadorbonaparte (languages, linguistics, translation studies, and more).

this masterpost by @loveletter2you (linguistics, languages, and language learning books/textbooks).

this masterpost on chinese minority literature by @zaobitouguang

the integrated chinese textbooks by cheng and tsui, which are the textbooks i use for self-study—there's textbooks and workbooks, as well as character workbooks (though these can easily be cut out without suffering from the loss).

mandarinbean: graded readers, hsk 1 - hsk 6, with a pop-up dictionary and the option to read in traditional or simplified

chinese reading practice: reading, beginner through advanced (three levels), with a pop-up dictionary and some additional notes included on vocab and language-specific things non-native speakers might struggle with or not know.

hsk reading: graded readers, hsk 1 - hsk 6, divided into three sections (beginner, intermediate, advanced). does not have a pop-up dictionary, but does have an option to translate the text, post-reading quizzes, and notes on important vocab with example sentences.

my chinese reading: reading from beginner to advanced (four levels); has a pop-up dictionary, the option to play an audio recording of the passage you're reading, notes on key words, things that are difficult to translate, grammar, and post-reading comprehension questions.

the heavenly path notion website, which i would say is one of the best resources i've ever found, with a massive number of guides, lists of chinese media in a variety of forms, and general resources.

chinese character stroke order dictionary: what it says on the tin; will show you the stroke order for a given character.

hanzigrids: allows you to generate your own character worksheets. i use this very frequently, and can recommend it. the only downside is if you want to create multiple pages at once, you have to pay; however this can easily be circumnavigated by creating only one sheet at a time. you can download the sheet as a pdf and print it out for personal use.

21st century chinese poety: a resource i only came across recently; has a massive collection of contemporary chinese poetry, including translations; much more approachable than classical poetry, which can often be incredibly dense and hard to parse due to the writing style.

zhongwen pop-up dictionary: if you're reading something in chinese on a website that doesn't have a pop-up dictionary, this is a must. i've never encountered any words that it doesn't have a translation for so far, including colloquialisms/slang. i use it to read webnovels, and it's been a fantastic tool. you can also save vocab by hitting the r key when you're hovering over a word/phrase, making it easy to go back and add terms to your flashcard deck(s).

chinese reading world: a website put together by the university of iowa; split into three levels (beginner, intermediate, and advanced), with thirty units per level, and ten modules per unit, as well as multiple proficiency tests per level. each module is split into three parts: a pre-reading vocab quiz, the reading with a number of comprehension questions based on it, and a post-vocab reading quiz. it also rates you in relation to someone with a native proficiency based on how quickly you read and answer the comprehension questions, and how many vocab questions you get right.

jiaoyu baike: an extensive chinese-to-chinese dictionary, put out by the taiwanese ministry of education. you can find an extensive write-up on it here, by @linghxr.

social media etc: see this post by @rongzhi.

qianpian: another chinese-to-chinese dictionary; @ruhua-langblr has a write-up on it here.

this writeup on zero to hero by @meichenxi; initially aimed at chinese learning, but now has expanded greatly.

music rec's: this masterpost by @linghxr.

tv/film: youtube is a great place to find chinese tv shows and films, and they often have english subtitles. if you can't find something on there, though, you can probably find it either on iqiyi or asianvote, which have both chinese and other asian shows and films (though you'll want an adblock if you're going to use the latter). i use these a lot to watch things, and have discovered a lot of media through these, and then novels through those when i went searching to see what they were adapted from.

polylogger: a website for logging the amount of time/type of language study you do. has a wide variety of languages, and the option to follow other people. still, it's a fairly basic site.

[talshiargirlfriend]

@hjea said we deserved more adorable half-Vulcan baby and that is 100% correct. So here’s what can be considered a missing scene or if you prefer you can say 🖕 to canon and consider it the opening of a fix-it.

Phlox had been notified of their imminent arrival, but nothing could have fully prepared him for the sight that greeted him as the doors to Sickbay parted. A pinched-face Commander T’Pol clutched an infant protectively to her chest as she strode in, flanked by Captain Archer and Commander Tucker. Commander Tucker had a hand on her back and concerned eyes focused on the baby’s profile. A brief look of pain flashed across his face indicating to Phlox that he may soon have two patients. Captain Archer wore his fight face. Behind them trailed a stricken Ensign Mayweather and a stoic Lieutenant Reed. All of them appeared dirty and dishevelled. 

The tiny girl stared at everything around her with wide blue eyes reminiscent of her father’s as she chewed one chubby fist. It brought to mind Sim as a baby, but of course there was no time to dwell on that now. The upswept brows and delicately pointed ears were all her mother, the doctor noted. 

“Well, what have we here?” Phlox greeted T’Pol when she stopped before him. He passed a handheld scanner in front of his young patient. 

“She is gravely ill, Doctor. Her immune system appears to be severely compromised,”  T’Pol informed him as she gently bounced the baby in her arms. It was somewhat less graceful than her usual movements in Phlox’s estimation, but he could nonetheless see the care in her touch. The baby gave a rattling cough as if to confirm her mother’s assessment. 

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask everyone who is not a patient - or the parent of a patient - to leave,” Phlox ordered as the scanner whirred. 

Lieutenant Reed nodded at T’Pol and Phlox, and then whispered something to Commander Tucker before giving him a supportive squeeze on his shoulder as he passed. The resulting grimace on the engineer‘s face confirmed Phlox's earlier suspicions about patient count.  Ensign Mayweather had evidently already had the good sense to slip out unnoticed.

 “You’ll inform me as soon as you know anything,” the captain confirmed as he briefly caught the doctor’s eye. “I’ll check on you all soon.” 

T’Pol gave no acknowledgement as she rubbed the baby’s back rhythmically to soothe her. 

“Take care, Trip,” Jonathan added with an encouraging smile. 

“Aye, Cap’n,” Trip responded with the ghost of a smile as he briefly tore his eyes away from T’Pol and their child. 

Phlox glanced down at the scanner in concern before he addressed the new parents. “She has a respiratory infection. We’ll start with some medication - a mild analgesic, antibiotic, and expectorant. I’d like to see that fever reduced quickly. Depending how she responds over the next hour we may move onto a more aggressive treatment for her lungs including placing her in an oxygen rich environment.” 

As he moved across to the cabinet to prepare the medication Phlox could hear the soft timbre of Commander Tucker’s voice. “She’s heavier than she looks. You want me to take her for a bit?”

“I’m fine,” T’Pol said softly. Trip must have looked ready to argue because she continued quickly, “you are injured, Trip. I will hold her… but perhaps you’d like to touch her or speak to her?” 

When Phlox returned he was loath to interrupt the scene before him. The two parents stood close with their heads canted toward each other. The baby had dropped her head against her mother’s chest and was drooling peacefully as her father stroked her hair and cheek and whispered quiet words of reassurance. In less fraught circumstances Phlox would have taken amusement in the sight of the normally impeccably groomed Vulcan with a patch of spittle spreading on her clothing. 

“I’ve got an injection ready,” he said as he approached the family. “This should ease her discomfort and allow her to sleep more soundly. I’ll also take a blood sample.”  

The child made an irritated squawk when the needle pierced her skin and she shifted her head to give Phlox the most dignified look of pouty-lipped disdain he’d ever seen on a baby. 

Apparently she would take after both her parents in temperament as well as appearance, Phlox thought wryly.

 “Shhh now, you’re all right, little one. I know it’s no fun getting jabbed, but the doc here is gonna help you feel a lot better.”

T’Pol turned pleading eyes toward the doctor as she gently rocked the baby. 

He would certainly do his best. 

“Commanders,” Phlox said gently as he prepared to analyse the blood of Enterprise's newest resident. “This will take some time. I won’t ask you to rest now, but it would be a good idea to refresh yourselves somewhat and get comfortable…” he trailed off as he nodded toward the chairs along the wall. 

Their reluctance to leave was palpable. Phlox could understand it well, but they would be better able to care for their newfound daughter if they first looked after their own needs. 

He glanced back to see the two commanders locked in an apparent staring contest. Before he could make a stronger appeal, Commander Tucker gave a faint sigh. 

“All right. You two go sit in one of Phlox’s comfy chairs.  I’m gonna go wash the moon dust off and grab a cup of coffee. When I get back I’m gonna bring you a change of clothes and a cup of tea, and you’re gonna take a break for ten minutes,” he informed T’Pol rather intensely.  Phlox expected Vulcan indignance, but instead she only nodded in response. That was interesting. 

Satisfied, Trip leaned down to gently stroke his daughter’s cheek. “I’ll be right back. You be good for your mama,” he whispered. T’Pol’s eyes widened slightly, and he gave her a faintly bewildered smile. “I know. It's surreal. But you’re her mom.”

“And you are her father,” she replied seriously. 

A bright grin spread over Trip’s face. “I am,” he said, wonder evident in his tone. His voice dropped back down,”You’re doing great, T’Pol.” He rubbed her arm. 

“Ok, Doc,” he said a bit louder. “Keep an eye on these Vulcan girls for me. I’ll be back in twenty minutes, tops.” He paused to kiss the sleepy infant on her head and the startled mother on her lips. 

Phlox politely averted his eyes and hid his grin as he focused on the screen at his workstation.  “Commander,” he called out as Trip reached the door. “I'm going to take a look at that shoulder when you get back.” At the dark muttering he heard in response, Phlox allowed himself a small smile before frowning at the data loading before him. 

The baby’s eyes were starting to drift closed, and he could hear T’Pol speaking quietly to her as she paced.

“Your father is very physically affectionate.” There was a pause. “We will adapt.”

“You still need a name,” T’Pol murmured to the child. “I have something in mind. We will discuss it with your father when he returns.”