#ok so no tarp

[pastafossa]

i get how it might seem like a good idea to put a tarp over the hole in the ceiling but i can’t get the image of the plumbers peeling it off and a gazillion spiders fall from it like balloons in a game show and then they scatter like they’re in an indiana jones movie i’m so sorry to disturb you with this information 😭

I CHANGED MY MIND THE TARP IS A TERRIBLE IDEA

[viovio]

but yea me and my sister had this "game" where we smothered pillows on each other's faces and sat on it and screamed it was fun

[samwisefamgee]

hi I also live in a trailer filled with mold and haven’t seen your previous posts about it but uh. are you okay? am I also going to be okay? I keep trying to kill and dry out the mold but it doesn’t want to go away. sorry it’s ok if you don’t wanna talk about it but I don’t know anyone else who is living in a Rot Box

Hi! Pretty sure we’re boned until fate smiles on us and we get outta the boxes

[llamagoddessofficial]

Oh Dearest Horror I would love to go on a multi day winter hike with you ❤️❤️❤️

"warm?"

Horror's voice was so very soft. With your back against his chest, you could feel it pleasantly reverberating through your whole body.

How could you be any warmer? Though your breaths escaped in puffs of steam, you were cuddled in his lap, your hood pulled down over your head. You wore a heavy knitted sweater lined with fur and cotton, a blanket Horror had carried the whole way wrapped snugly around you, his own huge arms tucked around your middle, and his massive thick wings laid over the top like your very own fluffy down blanket. Snowflakes still speckled the mottled browns and blacks. He was so comfy - he felt so secure, he smelled like delicious cooked meat and home. With how snuggled you were against him, you couldn't have possibly felt more secure or safe.

"Yes." You assured, rubbing the thumb of your gloved hand over the forearm locked around your middle. "I'm very very warm."

He purred, gently. It was like sitting in a massage chair. "ok."

You looked up, admiring the scenery. Horror always knew the best places. But this place was particularly nice. He'd led you into a forest of willow trees, their branches frozen in a way you'd never seen before - rather than being loaded with snow, they were laden with droplets of clear ice that twinkled like a sea of hanging crystals. He eventually settled into a clearing, laying down his bags and setting out a tarp so he could sit with his back against a tree.

He had invited you to sit beside him. You picked his lap instead.

"This place is beautiful." Years of wandering in his free time had made him intimately familiar with a landscape not many dared to see. You felt flattered every time he expressed that he wanted you to join him on his hikes. "I'm glad you brought me here."

"just wait," he murmured. "trust me."

You didn't need to be told twice. You nestled against him, eyes getting heavy. Comfortable silence covered the two of you, like just another lovely blanket.

After a little while, the aurora started to emerge from the sky. It snaked across the darkness above you, a ghostly flickering slowly gaining power and colour - a trickle increasing into a stream, then a river, then a silent rushing current of green fire full of its usual glory. You watched it in quiet, cosy delight.

Something in the corner of your vision. A twinkling. At first, you thought it might just be the aurora into the backs of your eyes. But it was too sharp for that. You stopped watching the sky, glancing down to the surrounding forest instead.

The ice hanging from the trees was beginning to glimmer. You drew in a breath. The light was catching in the icicles; they were all beginning to twinkle, new stars emerging from the once-dark woods surrounding you.

... Then the aurora gained strength. And the icicles started to reflect.

You gasped; every icicle that could see the sky was shining, casting sparkles of blue and green onto the snow below, a ring of coloured flecks that slowly shifted and circled as the aurora moved. Like a sunrise, the collective glow of the reflections began to set the whole forest alight - all around you, light and colours, rainbows as far as your eyes could see. A sea of stars across the snow, casting away into the distance.

There were two night skies. One above, and one all around you.

Horror seemed to like your reaction. He nestled his chin onto the top of your head, purring just that bit more.

"knew... you'd like this."

"I-I do," you replied, unable to look away from the lights. It was like being inside a gemstone. "I really do. How did you... know about this place?"

You felt his warm breath across your hair. "found it. thought of you."

"So we're the only ones who know this is here?"

"mhm."

"It's magical."

"s'ours."

You leant back against his chest, breathless. "Can we stay here until the aurora sets?"

A hum of affirmation.

You wriggled somewhat - you tugged one of your gloves off and poked your bare hand out from under the blanket. Still beneath his wings, you found the large clawed hand of the big comfy arm wrapped around you, touching the top of his palm.

He let out a sound you'd come to call his 'happy grumble'. To the untrained ear, it seemed like a growl. But it was a sound of unfiltered delight.

He turned his hand over, and enclosed yours in his own.

You stayed like that, as close to 'hand in hand' as the two of you could get... even well after you'd already fallen asleep.

[passionwillow]

You Drive Me Crazy

Hello! Here's a request a got for Reader x Deacon. Deacon see's how great she is with his kids and it makes him a little.. Feral. 😉 Thank you guys for the support and requests!

Warnings: This warning used to say just heavy kissing but I got very much carried away.. Not sorry. Smut! 18+

Life hadn't been easy for Deacon since the divorce.

With four kids and a job that took so much of his time, it was pushing him to the brink. And he could feel himself slipping back into that dark place.

Annie's sister was happy to watch the kids when he was working, and he had to admit seeing you everyday on shift eased him. You’d always been close with 20-David, even as a secretary for the department. But lately, he’d been drawn to your cheerful demeanor and loud laughter.

The day Annie's sister dropped the kids off at HQ solidified for him why her adored you so much.

She dropped them off because of an emergency at work, and Deacon gave the ok for the kids to come to base. You were more than happy to watch them, taking them in your office and letting them play and run around. It was a slow day, so everyone on 20-David eager to take a break and behave like kids themselves.

Deacon leaned against the doorframe and watched you interact with is kids, a pressure lifting in his chest. You handled them with such ease, so much gentleness, something stirred in his gut. Not just happiness, but.. Lust. Something he hadn't felt in awhile since Annie leaving.

He'd always been attracted to you, not in a romantic way, but your personality drew him in. Constant laughter, smiles, the way that even when things were hard, you found something to enjoy. It was something he wished he could do himself, instead of taking everything to heart.

He stood straight and approached you where you sat on the couch, placing his hand on your shoulder and smiling. "Could we talk somewhere?" You looked up and grinned, nodding and gently moving Victoria off your lap before standing. "Lead the way."

He slipped his hand into yours and guided you out into the hall, and you couldn't hide the blush on your face as his hand held firm to yours. He glanced around before pulling you into one of the empty offices, plastic tarps laid out for the renovation they were doing.

He turned to face you and nudged the door shut with his boot, pulling you in and pressing his lips to yours in one smooth motion. The shock of it stalled you for only a second, but you were soon kissing back happily, hands on his toned chest as he pushed you into the nearest wall.

His scruff tickled your cheek, and his hands held your hips flush to his. His badge dug into the soft flesh of your stomach, and you nipped at his lip before pulling back, breathing heavy. His lips followed your before he reluctantly pulled away, his usual calm eyes lit with something new. "Deac.. What. What was that for?"

"I don't really know. Just seeing you with my kids, being so.. Domestic. Got me a little.. Fuck, I'm sorry, this was so unprofessional." His cheeks heated as he started to pull back but you grabbed his shirt, fabric bunching in your fists as you grinned. "Well I didn't say I was done yet, Sergeant." He paused and took in the grin on your face, your clothes bunched from where he grabbed you, and he quickly stepped back into your space.

His lips mashed into yours with more force than he intended, and he slid his hands over your ass, squeezing roughly and pulling you tight to him. His touch caused a moan to slip out, tongue dancing with his as he suddenly picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he held you to the wall. You grinned against his lips and let your head fall back as he attacked your neck, positive his stubble was going to leave your skin red.

"Mm-.. Deacon.. Someone could walk in." Your words did little to phase him as he bit at the sensitive skin on your shoulder, eyes twinkling as he looked at you and shrugged. "So let them." His outright dismissal made you laugh. The serious, always by the book Deacon Kay was okay getting caught? With the secretary?

You slid your hands into his hair and caught his lips in another kiss, and the hard bulge in his work pants made you whimper as your legs tightened around him. Before you could register anything else he had you off the wall, turning and walking the short distance to an oak desk still against the far wall.

He set you down and made quick work of unbuckling his belt and pants, brown eyes a shade darker than usual. "I would normally lie a gentleman and take you home to a bed, but.." His words trailed off and he smiled almost bashfully. It had been so long since you'd seen that smile.

"You can make it up to me later." You matched his smile and laughed as he pushed you back to lay on the desk, bunching your skirt up around your hips. It was already wrinkled and twisted from him picking you up. You'd have to iron that out later.

He eyed your red, lacy panties and groaned softly, his thick fingers tearing them away without a second thought. "Hey!" You scolded him, laughing as your knees spread to make room for him. "That was my favorite pair." He grinned slyly and pulled you closer by your hips, leaning down over you and resting a hand by your head.

"Honey, I'll buy you all the lingerie you want. Sound good?" Your cheeks heated as he towered over you, your answering kiss enough. He blindly freed his cock and was sheathed inside you in no time, your moans echoing in the empty office as he wasted little time fucking into you.

He straightened and held your hips in a vice grip, the veins in his neck prominent as his head fell back in bliss, his panting breathes and stifled moans harmonizing with your soft cries on pleasure. You tried to muffle yourself, tried to keep as quiet as you could. But he was so fucking huge and the way he was moving was mind numbing.

The desk knocked into the wall as he fucked into you harder and faster, and your nails dragged along the wood as you tried not to scream. It was too good. Deacon cursed as he looked down at you, your skirt wrinkled and blouse disheveled. Your hair had fallen out of its clip and was fanned out on the desk. Your face was contorted in pleasure, all from him.

He reached down and teased your clit with his thumb, smirking at the strain on your face as you held back your groans. "So close, baby.. C'mon. Cum for me." His raspy words, the shake in his voice finally pushed you over the edge. He leaned down and caught your lips with his, muffling your cries as you let go.

He wasn't far behind you either, and both of you cling to each other as your orgasms shook each of you.

He panted against your lips and slowly straightened, eyes closed as he whispered. "Fuck, that was amazing." You nodded weakly and smiled as he helped you sit up, pressing your lips to his a softer, gentler kiss than the ones earlier.

He said nothing at first as he helped you fix your clothes, smiling to himself as you buckled his belt. "So.. Where you busy tonight?" His hopeful gaze made you grin as you shook your head, gazing up at him. "I'm all yours, whatever you planned."

His matching grin made your heart flutter, but both of you were jerked out of the moment by Hondo as he opened the door, geared up, brows furrowed as he looked at you both. "Deacon, man, we're up. Got a call about.." Hondo broke off as you looked between you both. The marks on your neck, the ripped panties on the floor, Deacon's usually styled hair messy..

He slowly grinned and grabbed onto his vest by the straps, shaking his head. "Shit, Deac, what did you do?"

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Immortal (Ghost x Medic!Reader Pt. 3)

"The path to paradise begins in hell."

— Dante Alighieri

Word count: 5.5 k

Summary: He knows now why he always returns to her. It's because he was injured. Badly, severely, life-threateningly injured – no, he was already deceased. What kind of a medic has the power to resurrect the dead? (Last part of Ghost stories.)

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Angst, fluff, smut. Protective!Simon Ghost Riley. Graphic depictions of PTSD, suicidal thoughts and depression, mild violence. Emotional sex, love confessions, happy ending. Ghost POV.

"You can't come here, lieutenant. Not unless you're injured."

No one has ever scolded him.

He's the one who whips people into shape, who makes them recall who and where they are, that Task Force 141 is no place for fuckery. Now he's the one being reminded of his place. 

Somehow it's ok to bring her flowers before dinner, but ever since he started to bring her coffee to get an excuse to see her at work, she began to shut down. He can fuck her doggy style at her place, but if he so much as lifts his mask to kiss the back of her neck at her office, she bats him away like an annoying fly.

And he's fucking confused.

He thought he was doing the right thing. He thought that women like to be courted. Now he's standing in the middle of her apartment, waiting for… he doesn't even know what. Pardon, perhaps.

"Why do you always call me lieutenant?"

"Well I can't call you Simon at work, can I?"

She's chaste and decent. Has been like that for a while now, retreating back to her role of a distant professional. 

Something's troubling her, and he tries to get to the bottom of it. Tries his best to cheer her up, even if it's absurd that someone like him attempts to do that.

"Y'could use the alias."

"I'm not going to call you that."

She reads Virgil while making it clear that he's quite ridiculous. A ghost. It must remind her of a children's book rather than something stealthy and fatal; to her, it's a grown man's sad attempt to play a superhero.

"Did you come up with the name yourself?" Her voice has a whiff of irony as she finally spares him a glance from her hard-cover poetry.

"...No," he lies, too soon. Far too soon. She catches him on it, pants down.

"You're a silly, silly man." She shakes her head slowly and returns to her book. Last week, it was Dante who had better things to offer, far better things compared to him – such as a more poetic depiction of hell.

But even with the distant aura he can't quite pierce, she gives him a concept of what it would be like to have a home. A real home where you don't have to dread the evening and everything it brings out in people. Even when he was doing the SAS Fan Dance and lying on the cold ground to have a compulsory 2-hour shut-eye, he never missed home. The weather-beaten trail and a flapping tarp were still a cosier place than the one he'd left behind. 

The closest thing to an actual home was always solitude. A few days without routine. A cold shower in the morning to wake him, but not frigid enough to kill the erection. A good, unhurried fap and some stale spit circling down the drain. No one giving him a pitiful eye for tossing old takeaway in the bin and opening the cupboard only to be met with some canned food and table salt.

Now, the first thing in the morning is the sensation of her. Fingertips sneaking their way under his arm and ghosting his stomach, stirring him so softly he doesn't quite know if he's gone to heaven. Home is a sleepy nest and slow kisses followed by the sounds of brewing coffee. Home has become a place of mundane tasks: helping her water the plants and tasting whether the vanilla pudding she made has enough sugar. Changing sheets together, listening to the fitful sea as it breaks upon the shore. Watching how she reads of the Trojan War.

When he just stands there, admiring how her manicured nails glide over the pages, she talks to him again without raising her lashes from the book. 

"Did you need something?"

…You. All of you. 

Now and forever.

"Ya wanna go out to eat tonight?"

Finally, he grabs her attention. The distance between them is sewn up so fast even a jerk like him can understand he finally made the right fucking move.

"What about your… The mask?"

He shrugs.

"I thought you liked my cooking," she gives him a smile. Sly… Foxy.

"I do. But let me feed you for a change."

He sees in that stare and the way she purses her lips that she's trying to prevent a dirty joke from coming out of her pretty little mouth. As much as he appreciates that little cunning look, as much as he loves when that mouth gets a little dirty, he's more than serious now.

"Come on. Let me take you out."

"Well. If you insist," she smiles, shuts the book, and flies to her closet to pull out a stunner of a dress.

…..…..…..

Her fingertips always make his cock stir. They were supposed to go to sleep – a rare thing, to not slip inside her after a nice lil evening. To his surprise she starts to trace the few hairs on his stomach, threading through them as they thicken below. 

He can feel how she gets tense upon seeing that he's hard and heavy before she even reaches there. But she's not tense from anticipation.

"I overheard some of the guys talking about us. Or, well, me."

His cock gives a tug, and she still doesn't touch it.

"How I'm your luxury whore."

The curtain shifts as the wind plays with it: softly, while he's ripped out of the dark safety of the womb.

"Luxury…" She laughs, but it's bitter and thick. "Isn't it funny?"

He's hard now mainly because of the fury that rises. It ripples through his chest and pulls his stomach taut.

"Was it the rookie?"

He hears his voice from far away, from under the sea, but luckily, her hand brings him back. It's placed on him again, this time further up. She likes to trace the cavity between his pecs, pet the hair she finds there, too. Sometimes, she buries her face there and inhales his sweat, then uses that spot as her pillow. It's that very moment when he finds peace if he already hasn't by then.

"You don't have to defend my honour," the night speaks softly.

So, it was the rookie.

Nothing but a boy, younger than Soap and cockier than he was when he left Manchester with nothing but a duffel bag on his shoulder. Nothing but a boy, and she knows how boys are. She knows how boys talk. She wouldn't be in the Force if she took filthy quips seriously. 

But this is fucking different. The fantasies of what he'll do to the fucker when he gets back get sicker and more beautiful by the second.

"Just… don't come there anymore unless you're injured. Ok?"

He can't hear her because the vile word overrides even the gorgeous visions of torture. It gathers up his throat as bile, and he barely has time to take a deep breath to force it down before it's too late.

"I'm gonna go take a shower." 

"At this hour…?"

"Can't sleep anyway."

He reaches the bathroom just in time before the vomit flies. The power of it forces him on his knees, forces him to take hold of the door frame. Everything he fed to her shoots up, like it was only a dream that he could make her happy.

…Are you just here for sex?

Her shy question echoes from the tiles as another retch pulls the rest of his love out. 

He's sweating worse than the time they had to operate him in the field, back when a bullet had worked its way through the naked spot between the straps of his plate carrier. The shower washes some of it away, but the stench stays, the foul word and the insolence, all the shallow things he has given her coat the insides of his mouth no matter how many times he tries to spit it away. The water only does so much, and she's still not asleep by the time he returns to her. 

The luxury is waiting for him, silky and sweet. 

Wet, even, if he wants.

"Baby… Honey?"

Baby.

Baby.

He feels his guts in his throat again but swallows them down. She's beautiful, even when sad and sorry. Sorry, and for what? For him, instead of herself and what she's been called, the spite she has had to suffer simply for lying down in the filth with him. 

"Are you okay...?"

"Yeah."

He goes to her, pulls her in his arms, and hopes he doesn't smell of puke.

"They're just words. Right?"

I'm more than just your whore, right?

Her hand doesn't shy away from the sweat that breaks through his back. She's not afraid of him, even when he's the monster she never asked for. He can respect that kind of fearlessness. 

"You're awfully quiet," she tries. 

Baby, please don't go berserk, is what he hears.

"Go to sleep, pet," he calls forth his softest voice, relieved to notice it sounds more like a lullaby than a command. He allows her to kiss him, wondering if she can taste the grave. 

"Yes, sir," she breathes a soft smile in his mouth. Then she turns and coats herself with his arm. It must feel heavy around her, but she only gives a happy sigh. "I always sleep better with you. You feel so good… Safe."

He wonders how strange it is that love sometimes feels like pain. Her words come close to a knife slowly being pushed to his insides. They're still burning when she mutters the last essential thing, already half-asleep in his arms.

"They're just words, Simon…"

…..…..…..

He doesn't know much about poetry, but perhaps Dante was right. 

The heart of hell is not a fiery lake of torment but an icy, cold, stagnant place. There's nothing there. Everything is frozen: screams, thoughts, even dreams. 

He's walked through grey rubble and drenched asphalt, through alleyways of havoc and debris, he's trekked through desolate woodland and marsh. He's run through life like it's a day-to-day race to not get killed, but the worst of it isn't the bullets or the cold or the wind or the rain. It's the sleepless nights, the inertia. His soul in chains. On those nights, he wanted to get killed. 

And yet, he's not the only one who has suffered the unfortunate event of being dragged through every plane of hell. He's not the first man to go through the funnel, nor is he the last. It only looks bad in a society where he's supposed to own a credit card and a house. It only tastes like shit when someone asks "How does it make you feel?" 

People like him shouldn't go to therapy at all. His solution was to quit playing a modern man the minute he realized he's no longer fit for that role. He's simply a dead body, reanimated to serve a purpose. He's a sharp tool, a weapon. (A zombie.)

He serves the greater good, but everyone knows the greater good is propaganda too. There's no grand fight between light and darkness. Good and evil only conduct people's choices: even his old man must've thought he was making the world a better place by playing the rebel. He told him he served the Queen just to piss that sodded bastard off, but the truth is he never served anyone. Not even himself.

Now, there's an odd purpose to his task. Now, every cell in his body is full of animus. 

He's an animated corpse, perhaps, but they forgot to bury the wrath.

"Where's the rookie?"

"Getting stapled."

"Where?"

Which room? 

Which fucking room?

He doesn't stay to heed directions. He doesn't need them; his instinct tells him enough. He doesn't even bother to knock, simply barges in, only to see that the boy sits on the bed he used to sit on, in the exact same position as him. And he knows it's not just the blood loss that makes the fucker look so drowsy and smug. 

The fury is pierced with an ice-tinged sword as he sees her gentle touch – she's tending to the wounds of an ungrateful kid with the same compassion she gives to all her patients, and the first thing on his mind is that she would make a good mother.

"What're you doing here?" 

His voice is soaked in ash, but the boy only looks up from the bed with pure, trouble-seeking gall.

"What are you doing here…? Sir."

She's looking at him too. She's pleading with those eyes. Silently, desperately. 

"You can't come here, lieutenant. Not unless you're injured."

Her request only now makes sense as he sees how the boy looks him up and down and sees there's not a scratch on him. There's no reason for him to be here other than to relieve the pain in his loins.

"Well… Have fun," the rookie jumps from the table, and the rage threatens to pull him underwater like a tide. He never needed anything but his voice to stop a man in his tracks. Not size, not rank, not even his reputation, just voice. 

"My office. Five minutes."

The boy dares to give him another foul look.

"Is that all you need? Just five minutes?"

He even detects admiration in that stare – like he's some stallion, a prized old stud who receives fine mares to rut. Like the celestial woman standing behind this… boy is just some slag thrown to him like they threw to gladiators of old. His luxury whore.

The rookie finally catches the impending wrath that must swell and roil like sea inside the sockets of the skull. 

Yes, boy.

Death is coming.

"Sir," the boy swallows with an arduous blob, then walks out of the goddess's domain, finally with some humility upon those shoulders. 

The torture has already begun, and it shoots him full of sweet adrenaline. He tries to mask the rising war from her, but she sees enough just before he leaves her as well. Her words follow him but cannot penetrate the cloak of fury that shrouds him as he goes to prepare for carnage.

"Simon. I just stitched him together..."

…..…..…..

He doesn't solve the problem with a gun or a cock this time. 

He uses his fists and a knife.

It should disgust him; how much he enjoys it. It's one of those rare occasions when he almost loses himself in the riptide of blood. The things he imagines are far worse than what he finally allows himself to do. When the boy has a split lip and half his face swollen so bad he can't even see from the bruise, when the wetness dampens the crotch area and threatens to stain the carpet, he lets him go.

"Get out."

He's a different man when he rises from beside that broken boy; from next to the knife he plunged to the floor an inch away from his face to make his intentions clear. The boy is stripped of all arrogance and probably regrets the day he got the splendid idea to insult a woman. 

He doesn't have to get his hands deep into paperwork to have the rookie transferred; the boy does it for him. He leaves the base quietly as a shadow and with a face that looks like it has been forced through a waffle maker.

After that, everyone salutes him feet away.

His orders are obeyed without question, without a second's delay on missions. He has never pursued to be loved, but neither has he worked on making people fear him. Now he's not only a source of mystery and intrigue but also fear and wonder.

Soap isn't scared quite as shitless as the rest of them, but neither is he as friendly as he used to be. Price says nothing but he gets a few looks that tell him he has gone too far.

"You shouldn't have," she whispers when they're alone, stopping him in the quiet hallway. She's the only one who doesn't have fear and avoidance in her stare. If anything, the adoration in her eyes has deepened.

He has avoided her strictly, this time obeying her request not to go to her unless he has business there. He doesn't defend himself; he doesn't have the luxury to decide what should or shouldn't be done. He's not a saint nor a judge. He is territorial, though.

"You must be the craziest man I've ever met." 

She talks to his shadow as he's standing only a few feet away, unable to touch her.

"Good."

"...and the most incredible."

His sharp intake of air hisses between them as the artificial light casts shadows in electric blue. She tries to thank him for bashing a face in, all her noble Hippocratic Oaths forgotten.

She takes a step – just one, to make it perfectly clear she wants to touch him too.

"You're a brute, Simon."

The woman's eyes are a deep sea of gratitude. He wonders if she's equally as wet between those legs. Her voice says it all: she likes brutes.

The worship in her stare makes him understand why wars have been waged – this is the reason why crusaders sloshed through rivers of crimson blood, why whole civilizations were destroyed. This is why swords are forged and guns are fired. He draws another breath to swear his allegiance, an oath bound in blood.

"No one's gonna call you a–"

She crosses the final breadth of air between them and lifts his mask.

…..…..…..

The waves crash on the shore like clockwork. To him, it's the sound of limbo. 

The sea used to pull him in like a seductive pit, especially at night, during the sleepless shifts when he walked to the beach with nothing but the ghosts of all the people he had lost to keep him company. Watching all the futures and should have been's slowly drowning in the sea. 

Now he’s here with a living being, and the cold, dead sea has turned into blooming fireworks of crimson and coral. The amnesia has turned into bliss; all the treasures lost in the depths suddenly wash up on the shore like a sunken hoard.

She takes her shoes off the minute they reach the shore, then descends the sands with laughter. She could be from a movie or a magazine, gliding through bleached gold with sunbeams in her hair, sandals dangling from the crook of her fingers, heathers kissing her feet as she dives down the path. Her smile eclipses even the setting sun, and for the first time ever, he thinks it might've been a stupid idea to enlist. 

If there’s an opposite to ice and inertia, it's this. 

It's her. 

"You lied to me," she turns around but doesn't stop walking. "You have been to the beach."

She tilts her head as if reprimanding him, but he knows she's just laughing at his expense. She laughs at his name… She laughs at his broodings, she laughs at his shadows and his hubris. 

"Does anyone else know about this place?"

"No."

There's no soul out here but theirs; even the seagulls have withdrawn to rest. She stops to admire the sun, features turning soft as she takes in her counterpart. Apparently, she likes his humble tribute, the scarcity he has to offer. Some hollow bones, his opinion of a beach. Emptiness… A day coming to an end.

"I have no words for this."

"It's just a beach," he offers, and swallows when she turns. When the fuck has he ever felt embarrassed? His mask is gone, so she can see him swallow again as she approaches. It's the strangest thing how she can still cause his heart to hammer in his chest. He's used to stepping into a hail of bullets, driving a truck through a wall, waiting for that last unaware step to lunge forth and slit a man's throat. The organ never wailed then.

Her eyes take in his every flaw and scar, the rotten work on his skin before she wraps her hands around his neck. 

"No. No it's not. This is paradise."

She has to rise on her toes to kiss him, and he's glad he got rid of the mask. There's nothing between him and the taste of summer anymore – she reminds him of some bright tropical drink, something pure and sweet and innocent, pure fucking fun, something he has come to understand and define only through movies and tv. 

And he knows now why he always comes back to her. It's because he was injured. Badly, severely, life-threateningly injured – no, he was already deceased.  

She has introduced him back to the world: the sun, the birdsong, the simple, good life. How it feels like to have curtains, or bake just because it's Thursday, or walk barefoot on the beach in order to feel the burning sand on your skin. 

What kind of a medic has the power to resurrect the dead?

"Simon," she shivers into his mouth. "I'm sorry. I didn't want people to think that… That we're just…"

"Pet. I know."

"They said you didn't trouble yourself with relationships."

Years of instinct and training make his spine tingle. He's holding another future in his arms and hopes it's not possible for a sea to swallow a sun.

"They?"

"Well, John. Captain." 

Her lashes hide what's going through her mind, but he can tell she's feeling shy from the way she shifts in his embrace.

"I asked about you. In spring. If there's someone… waiting for you."

He wrestles down a bitter laugh. The only lover ever waiting for him was nothingness in that chair; the only wife he came home to was shades, shadows, and dust. 

But he's starting to understand what she's trying to say. How, without even thinking about it, he just made the strongest possible declaration of not being here just for sex. He couldn't have sent a louder message with that boy.

Because not only Jonathan Price know that she's his. Soap knows too. Gaz knows too. Everyone working in Task Force 141 knows, even the fucking scrubbers and accountants know what's going on. Everyone knows that Ghost is real, and alive, and troubles himself with a relationship.

"I dreamed of you, you know." Her lashes flutter open, and he's met with the perfect example of total surrender. She's more than happy with the outcome, and why the hell shouldn't she be? Actions speak louder than words. He of all people should know that.

"Love–"

"Do you remember the day I found out you were a smoker?"

"...Sure."

She laughs, taking him back to the odd meeting in the yard when she was prying her suffocating latex gloves off, and he was trying to find some solace in a cigarette because he couldn't have her. 

"I was so angry at you. Playing with death at every turn..." 

"Yeah. Not the perfect man."

"But you were. You are." 

"Pet. If someone's perfect, it's you."

"No… I'm a hypocrite. I wanted you to just–just take me against the wall. After your stupid smoke."

He always wondered if she was suffocating too. In her gloves, in her beauty, in her sterile, medical, professional chasteness.

But he had no fucking clue that she–

"Or during, I don't care…"

Even the thought of her wanting him to tear apart her facades shatters the last sane thought in his head. He has tried to be civil, tried to suffocate the longing, but apparently, he doesn't have to. The image of burying himself inside her cunt while taking a drag from the thing she despises even more than his name or his mask or his guns is too fucking much. The fact that she views a dog like him as a perfect man makes his cock answer her call like a good, stout soldier. 

"Is that so?"

She stops breathing for a moment as he takes a drag from her now. She's raw whiskey straight to an empty stomach, the way his mind goes blank from sliding his mouth over the column of her throat. She tastes of sea there, and it's not pulling him in; it's pulling him under. The open-mouthed kisses make her jolt, he even draws out a moan or two; they swell between his legs. 

"You like that…?"

She answers to him with a soft whine. A soft nib of her ear, and her hips reply with a roll. The woman tries to latch onto him by gripping his shirt, threatening to do permanent damage to the fabric.

"No walls here, pet. Gotta take you on the sand," he gruffs in her ear, cock hard and ready from her tight little breaths. He could bet half his money that she's wetter than November down there. He could drag his cockhead across her cunt and the sound would be divine. 

"Simon–"

"I'll light a cig first."

"Stop teasing," she laughs, voice thick with hunger.

"...Roger that."

His hand is on his belt before he knows it. It's pathetic how much patience he has if he needs to crouch in a downpour and wait for a kill, but at the sight and smell and taste of her, he can't stop himself from wrenching his belt and pants open like a starved dog. It's a rush born of fear - that any time could be the last time.

She seems to shiver from his stare only when she lays herself upon the warm sand, naked as can be. She's like a vision on that beach: leaning on her elbows, thighs slowly parting, revealing the glistening sex between her legs. And she's fucking dripping, like an overripe peach. He could've safely bet all his money on her.

"How do you want me?"

Fucking fuck… 

He's walking in a dream: the most beautiful woman in the world is lying naked before his feet, bathing in gold, asking how he would prefer to take her. He doesn't even bother to get out of his clothes; he merely tugs his pants down and crawls between her legs, relishing the tight gasp he gets from being so crude.

Her eyes grow wide at the sight of him there, so close to her core, cock hanging heavy just an inch away from that tight cunt. She tries so hard to look composed while lying under his shadow, to not make it obvious that she wants that ugly thing inside. And it does feel like sin not to spread those legs and plough right in, especially when his fingers meet her silk and find that she's already throbbing.

"Want you just like this, pet," he rasps while dragging the pad of his thumb around her clit. Her back arches on the sand, forcing his fingers deeper into the dripping fruit.

It's different, her wetness; not thick and halfway there, but flowing, leaking, soaking good. The pussy is so glazed that he slips at the first attempt to slide a finger in. Her walls grip him the second he's seated deep, making it known how much she appreciates it that he's not here just for sex. 

"Someone's greedy," he's breathing rough, and she whines – he only gets to two fingers before she demands him to fuck her already.

"Want your–I need your cock…" 

She's begging, poor thing, almost crying on the sand, and he has no fucking choice but to remove his fingers and grab his cock instead.

"Have to go slow, love."

"Riley–for god's sake, now."

"F' fuck's sake…" He stumbles forward, all but gracefully, forces the tip on her soaked cunt as delicately as he can before pushing right in. She cries from the spread, fingers curling in the sand: a futile attempt to take him in without fainting.

"Tried to warn ya–"

"Don't you dare stop," she gasps, eyes full of love. As always, her wish is his command, and the tightness makes it an endless journey to bliss. The basest parts of him think about dying – having a heart attack on the same beach he almost drowned in, about ceasing to exist just for the sake of knowing that nothing is as good as this. 

He's deep as can fucking be, and it's still not enough – it's never enough. He collects her in his arms with a frustrated grunt, cock giving a tight pull only when she's finally safe and snug in his embrace. It's a tight cuddle that leaves them both breathless.

"Hold me tighter..." 

It's a soft order, but he can't get any closer: chest plastered on her skin and balls pressed against her ass, the sand grinding against her back as he makes love to her. She’s not made of twigs, but he’s far bigger than her, already threatening to crush her with his weight.

"Tighter…" she begs on his lips, tries to pull him closer with her whole being.

"Pet, I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," she sings, completely shieldless. Something warns him of danger, a reset far worse than drowning or being buried alive or shooting himself in a lonely apartment. He tries to calm her down with a kiss: he knows she loves kisses - but there are tears in her eyes, and his heart is hammering, hammering… 

"Simon, do you love me…?"

She asks that question right on his lips, and the first thing in his dog mind is that it's a stupid thing to ask when he's balls deep inside her and still trying to get closer.

"Yeah," he almost chokes on it, knowing it could be their wedding day and he would still choke on it because it doesn't taste like salt or metal or grave.

"I love you," she whispers. "Do you understand?"

No. No…

I fuckin' don't–

"And I'll always be here for you."

To his shock, there’s no sea water in his lungs, no dirt in his mouth. He’s not choking on anything, he's not in fact dying at all: he’s floating, somewhere between the sun and the sand and the sea. There's no more rush, no jaws of death snapping at his heels. He doesn't even long for heaven anymore. Not when there's a paradise on earth.

"Love, I need you to–need you to focus," he tries to stutter nonsense while she's pledging herself to him. Of course she only laughs at him: it hits him with the sweetest warmth.

"You're so silly…" 

"Yeah? I know." 

He's laughing too. It's just a few notes that get taken away by the sound of waves. It's just a breath from deep within, and still… Her gaze drops to his mouth, a flutter blinks back more tears.

"I love it when you laugh..." Her eyes shine brighter than the sun, riding the spine of the sea as one perfect tear rolls down her cheek. "Love it…"

The sun sets in tangerine, his new favourite colour. There's a whole bloom out there in the sky when she comes, fast and bright in his embrace. He comes right after, just from trying to stay inside her warmth, deep inside her, around her, and she says it, again and again and again… Until he breathes.

….….….

"Remember when I said I could've managed? Without you," she asks when they lie on the sand, skin on skin, watching the sun set beneath the onyx sea. The waves rise and break, but around them, the air is still. He's still inside her as she pulls his hand over her heart, entwining their fingers together: it's the softest little arrest, but her squeeze doesn't lack strength. 

"I lied too."

"I know."

She chuckles softly. "Is there something you don't know?"

"...Yeah. Why you're here out of all places."

She turns her head from the sunset into the falling darkness of him, and he wonders if that's why she's here... To be with his night. She said that people always get the dark wrong: that it's not supposed to be scary at all. That the purpose of darkness is safety, security, that there are tales where the day chases the night, and the night chases the day. She said it's because they're in love with each other.

"You really don't know…?" 

"You were smiling before we met and now you're crying all the time."

She looks up at him with trust and devotion, his daylight, his sun. There's none in the sky anymore, but it doesn't matter. It lives in her eyes.

"People cry from happiness too, Simon."

[citruswriter]

How will the bay bros react to shredder having a mutant turtle reader as a pet,he obviously treats reader horribly and gives them wounds.

You don't have to do this if you don't want to. Love your works

Bayverse Turtles Reacting to Shredder Having a Mutant Turtle as a Pet

Listen with me! ↠ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ↺ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗ ⊜ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ

A/N: Oh this is gonna be fucking amazing.

Leonardo 🧡

When Leo saw you in your cage, he was shocked. I mean, he wouldn't put it beyond him. Like "yeah that adds up". But seeing it was still so jarring.

When he saw the collar with the word "pet" engraved on it, Leo almost lost his cool.

When he saw you pressed up against the bars, staring up at him and his brothers with such wonder, he knew he needed to keep it together.

"I didn't know there was somebody like me..." Your voice comes out in a whisper and Leo smiles and bends to your level.

"That's right. And we're here to bust you out and take you somewhere safe, ok?"

He has Donnie break you out and his heart almost breaks at seeing all the bruises and scars on your body.

"What about Master? If he finds me gone, he'll be upset." You murmur, eyes downcast in worry and fear.

"Let him be mad. We'll protect you".

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

Raphael 🧡

Raph didn't know how to react at first. Another turtle? Fantastic! They're being kept as Shredder's pet? Fuck that bitch, he deserves to fucking die.

Raph is the first one to deal with the collar. He asks you gently if he can take it off and you eagerly nod.

If Raph didn't hate Shredder before, he utterly despises him now.

Raph becomes one of the most protective over you, you're his little buddy now. No you don't get a choice in this.

He gently tries to nudge you to get into the gym with him so you can get strong.

He can get a bit too protective at times but you know it's only because he's worried. A gentle pat on his arm and a smile and he usually relents.

If he gets the chance to fight Shredder again, this man will need to be restrained from ripping throat out in your honor.

Heaven forbid that man get his hands on you again. Not even Leo will be able to keep him from busting the door down and smashing Shredder's head into a brick wall.

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

Donatello 🧡

Utterly shocked when he first sees you. He knew Shredder was horrible man but not even he expected something like this.

Keeping a mutant as some little plaything? A pet? You were essentially his slave. It made him so mad.

Donnie's very soft with you. Very gentle and patient. He doesn't let people in his lab very often, but when he sees you peaking in one day, he let's you in.

Sometimes the larger machinery can scare you because it reminds you of Shredder, so Donnie puts large blankets or tarps over them.

Sometimes shares his pop tarts with you if you catch him working late at night because you can't sleep.

Immediately wants to teach you how to fight and get you your own signature weapon and color too.

Excitedly introduces you to April and Casey. Not so excitedly introduces you to Vern.

Loves doing parallel play with you when you finally get comfortable enough to hang around him and his brothers without exhausting yourself too much.

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

Michaelangelo 🧡

"I didn't know there was somebody like me..." Oh those words make his heart squeeze.

Immediately wants to join Raph in ripping Shredder's throat out but he's better at hiding his anger, not as good as Donnie and Leo though.

Gets Donnie to get you a phone so you can text him if you need literally anything.

Night Terrors in the middle of the night? Call him. He'll come sooth you back to sleep. Want food but don't want to socialize? Text him and he'll get you a whole pizza for yourself.

Is the first one to introduce you to Master Splinter. He's so excited to have another turtle sibling. He already loves you so much.

He can understand how hard it can be to have a lot of trauma so he's always there for you if you need to talk or need a silly distraction from all those dark thoughts in your mind.

One of the first people to start recognizing your triggers and icks and does his best to cater to them or to stop whatever's triggering you before it gets too bad.

Big ole sweetheart who desperately wants to see Shredder six foot under. Another one that will try to fight for honor.

Ik it's not the best but I tried. 😭 I think it's pretty decent tho. :3 I hope I have satisfied you. ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ

[somefanficrecomendations]

November Monthly Recap

So, how are we all feeling about the ending of Arcane? Have some fics to help you cope!

ARCANE

Like It’s the First Time by egg_thief (Jayce/Viktor), 5k, Episode: s02e07, AU-Canon Divergence “What were we?” Viktor asks, the question catching Jayce off guard. “Back in your universe?” He stumbles as he tries to put it into words- are there even words to describe what Viktor was to him? He opens his mouth, intent to say he doesn’t know- but the words flow out on their own accord. “We were… everything. ” or: in which jayce crashes into another universe, one where viktor was too late to stop his jump

High Hawk Season by JeanLuciferGohard (Jayce/Viktor), 9k, Oh my god they were roomates Three weeks, and the south-facing side of his apartment is still missing, and they won’t even let him sleep there with a tarp tacked over it, because the ‘structure of the building was compromised’ and it’s ‘not fit for habitation’, as if student housing, even student housing on the Kiramann’s dime, ever had any claim on habitability in the fucking first place. “I've been sleeping at the lab, Viktor.” (which he probably would’ve done anyway, but it’s matter of principle–it’s–okay, it’s fundamental question of free will and fair housing practices and not having to live with his mother, who publicly called him a lunatic) Sometimes, you are a genius, and a sizable explosion knocks out most of your living space, and you end up living with your research partner, and it's only weird if you make it weird

Absence by iksvolforb (Jayce/Viktor), 5k, Fluff and Angst “So sensitive,” Viktor ponders, his expression steeled with a layer of confidence and intrigue Jayce has only ever seen in the lab. An expression shown only when he was concentrating. Exposed only when he was invested. Available only when he was ready to do anything it took to find the solution. Jayce has to stop his head from lulling back when Viktor suddenly drags his hand slowly down his chest. --- or, Viktor doesn't show up to the lab and Jayce goes to check that he's ok.

Festering Affections by egg_thief (Jayce/Viktor), 3k, Fluff, Season 1 Ever so carefully- as if his hair were made of glass instead of silk and daydreams- Viktor reaches his hand out, his fingers stretching toward Jayce’s hair. He wavers for a moment, hesitating only a second- what if Jayce pulls away? What if he is misreading this whole scenario? What if he crosses a line that cannot be uncrossed- He is laying with his head in your lap, Viktor chides himself. If anyone crossed a line, it was him. This is merely retaliation- the consequences of his actions. Something Jayce needs exposure to anyway. And with that, Viktor slips his fingers into Jayce’s hair.

Fortuitous by SarcastCity (Caitlyn/Vi), 75k, AU-Royalty, AU-Arranged Marriage "It is time to fulfill your duties as princess.” “Yes, Mother. You know I take my duties very seriously," Caitlyn said, hesitantly. “I am so pleased to hear you say that. As you know, tensions between Piltover and Zaun have been…high…and, while there is a peace treaty between us, nothing is assured.” Oh no. Oh no, no, no. “So, due to the potential for instability, and your commendable commitment to your kingdom, your father and I have decided that the fact that you are both unmarried and eligible is quite fortuitous.” Caitlyn’s eyes widened a fraction farther, and she could not contain her whispered, “No” as her stomach dropped to her toes and her chest constricted like she had just been thrown from her horse. “Three days hence, you will marry the eldest child of the Hound of the Underground, and your union will fully secure the peace between our two nations.”

RRR

Falter and Flame by LivingProof (gen), 53k, Post-Canon, Action & Adventure In the Gond Village, Ram arrives with several goals. To see Bheem for the first time in months. To secure more supplies for his struggling revolution. And maybe, just maybe, to get a decent night’s sleep. In New Delhi, Special Officer Callum Rand arrives with his own goal. To hunt down the traitor, A. Rama Raju, and put an end to these new rebellions. One way or another. Or: Ram goes to great lengths to advance his cause. Bheem, against his better judgement, goes along with him.

How Will This Bullet Earn Its Value? By Silver (Flying_Blackbird) (Alluri Sitarama Raju/Komaram Bheem), 23k, Hurt/Comfort Dimly, while the last of the crowd slowly dispersed around him, Special Officer Alluri Rama Raju wondered if he would ever stop shaking. He had stumbled away from the scaffold at the first opportunity, bright red in the blur of khaki, dust, and barbed wire, weaving through the chaos like a droplet of blood trickling through the sand. A river of blood.

[newkatzkafe2023]

WukongVerse Incorrect quotes #40 The Genderbend Special🥳🥳 D.O's Red spot

It all began when we were all teenagers, you had gone on a date with the destined one to a party. Unfortunately things got out of hand and now you got arrested.

the next morning🌄

(Fem MKR Wukong) Damn it D.O you had one job last night

(Fem NR Wukong) Yeah take M/n to the school dance, so we don't have too

(Fem HIB Wukong)(dumbfounded) And as for you, every time you go out with M/n, you get drunk and crash into a dairy queen. You've been acting crazy

(Fem Lmk Wukong)(agreeing) Crazy Yall!!🤠

(Fem BMW Wukong)(mildly Concerned) D.O What were you thinking???

(Fem Destined one)(stressed) I don't know, ok, I feel insane like... sometimes I can't stop crying😭 and most times, I feel like i can kill someone👿

(Fem Netflix Wukong) I see, I totally understand, SHE'S A WEREWOLF!!!!😨

(Fem Lmk Wukong) SHE'S A WEREWOLF YALL HOWLING AT THE MOON WOOOO🥳!!!

(M/N)(annoyed) My girlfriend's a werewolf Lmk read the room😟

(Fem Destined one)(Shreeking) I'm not a werewolf...AHHHHHHHHHHH🤯🤯

(Fem NR Wukong) SHE'S TURNING SOMEBODY GET ME A SLIVER STAKE AND A TARP😰!!!

(Fem Destined one)(Crying/Sobbing) EVERYTHING HURTS...MY STOMACH, MY BACK, MY BOOBS, MY FEELINGS😭😭 (Sobs) NOBODY LOOK AT ME IM A MONSTER 😭😭😭😭

Then when the destined one turned around, and the rest of us could see a large red spot on her skirt, making us freak out

(M/n)(Terrified) BLOOD!!!!!!😨

(Fem Lmk Wukong) SHE'S KILLED BEFORE AND SHE'LL KILL AGAIN!😱

You were all freaking out together when...

(Fem BMW Wukong)(Excited) EVERYONE SHUT THE F*CK UP! She may not be a werewolf, but she's definitely a woman, MY LITTLE SISTER JUST GOT HER FIRST PERIOD!!!!🤩🤩🤩

(Fem MKR Wukong)(smiling) In front of all of us😇😈

Now the monkey queen was celebrating 🍾 and you were just glad that D.o's ok😮‍💨🤗

(Fem Destined one)(mortified) I have never been so embarrassed in my entire life😮‍💨😣

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG

[copperbadge]

The HVAC guys are here to put my new unit in! The Cats Do Not Like It!

This morning I moved their litterbox from the bathroom utility closet (where the HVAC unit is) into the bedroom. The cats were intrigued. "Oh, this is in here now? OK, better poo in it."

[ID: A photo of the cats' litterbox on its litter mat, on the rug usually found in the bathroom; the whole thing has been moved into the bedroom. Polk is sitting in the litterbox, head sticking out the top hole, looking perplexed but resolute.]

Then I closed the bedroom door so all three of us were stuck in the bedroom, and they didn't like that; they got snippy with each other and ran around hissing and fighting, although their tails weren't brushed out and their ears were perked so they were mostly playing.

But around 9 when the guys were supposed to show up I slipped out of the bedroom, leaving them in it, and they were BIG MAD. Dearborn sat behind the door and yelled.

Now that I've let the guys in and shown them the bathroom, they're making all kinds of exciting noises while they put down padding and tarps and open the new unit up and presumably remove the old unit. The cats are under the very center of the bed, antagonism forgotten as they huddle away from The Horrors Outside. I imagine they're experiencing what Lovecraft's protagonists generally do when they hear a Great Old One moving under the Antarctic ice.

[brokenpieces-72]

Hello! I read your 'kit' story and it was so good and I was wondering if I could actually make a story request? If your requests are closed then you could freely ignore this! I was wondering if you could do a plot where they find a teenage badger hybrid like in an abandoned war zone?? (I know it sounds familiar to the kit story so if you don't want to do it then that's ok!) Love your work btw love! 😘😘

Note: I want you to know that when I saw this I got so happy. My requests are never closed it’s more when I get around to answering them and posting them. Also for a bit of context, this is taking place before Rudy and Alejandro have met the 141.

Tejón

TW: mentions of abandonment, implications/mentions of child abuse, mental stress, poisoning, let me know if I missed any.

You hear a sharp whistle and shouts in another language. You peek out from your hiding spot to see two men, both with odd smells. Then you see a dog, and you retreat back into the little den you’d made for yourself. Unfortunately, the dog finds you and now has your scent. Uh oh.

You hear a call after the dog starts barking, trying to dig its way inside. You hissed and growled at the barking, warning them to leave you alone. This was your home, you were safe here. Safer than out there. Then you hear someone calling to you. They're looking for survivors, and you hear another phrase in Spanish spoken calmly. There's scratching outside and you growl louder, claws at the ready.

"Mexican Special Forces. We're coming in." Rudy called making his way inside the debris and rubble that made up your shelter. You back into a corner, glaring and hissing. You don't want help, you're fine on your own. Rodolfo raised his hands, showing he was unarmed, but you could see the gun on his back. Pair that with the weird looking mutt next to him and you were still on the defensive. "My name is Rodolfo Parra, I'm here to help you."

Yeah right. The last time someone tried to help you, you nearly got put in a cage. Rudy had seen behaviour like yours before. Not uncommon, especially for hybrids. This was going to take longer in order for it to be safer. The cadejo disappears, assuming you found the ghost dog a little intimidating. Rudy is still moving closer, but lowers himself to your huddled, crouched stance. Your growling, mixed with trembling gives him a good enough understanding of your reluctance. This wasn't the first time someone tried to help you.

"We have food, first aid, and can even get you new clothes." Rudy explained. You'd heard that before, and shook your head. There was little time to mince words. There had already been reports of other shelters like yours breaking down from whatever steel supports had given out. "Niña, this isn't a safe place for you. Not anymore. You can bring whatever you have hear with you, but if you stay here, the rubble is going to collapse on you."

As if on cue, there is the groaning of metal, and some depress falls from the cieling above you. Another rainfall and you would be buried in your own home. You'd done rather well for yourself too. Rodolfo noted the small fire pit in the corner where there was a large enough gap to vent the smoke. Right now you were posted on a collection of ragged blankets and ratty cushions to sleep on. In the other parts he found what looked like beat up cooking ware, a tarp, some wood and rocks, and what he was pretty sure was piece of pipe that you'd somehow taken the broken end of and sharpened it. When Rudy looked you over, he noticed the knife at your hip, opting for your own hybrid features over a proper weapon. A weapon that was likely one of your only tools. Your eyes left him, and stared up, seeing your home threaten to give out with you inside.

"Come on mija, it's not safe here. I need you to trust me for a bit." Rudy pleaded. He offered his hand, and you stared at it. "If I do anything you don't like, just say something. We'll stop okay?"

"Promise?" You asked. Rodolfo nodded. Another groan from above. You held out your pinky, and Rudy recognized it right away, hooking it with his own.

"Promise." He said, followed by another groan. Without warning you rushed to him, and he picked you up, hearing the colonel calling for him to get out of there quickly. A cadejo was able to grab hold of one of your blankets, chasing after the both of you, as Rudy carried you out. The bright light made you wince, nearly blinding you. Your eyes adjusted to see what had once been your home, slowly crumble.

When you were taken back to base, Rudy stuck close to you. Not at first though. A medic came to look at you, and you hissed at them. You didn't like doctors, you didn't like being touched. When a medic tried to assure you everything would be okay, it didn't work too well, and when they tried to reach their hand out to assure you, you uh... yeah you bit the medic you weren't ashamed of it. When another medic tried to step in, you started shouting at them, getting violent. Alejandro and Rudy were both informed of your lack of cooperation. When they came in to see if they could assist they found you curled up in the corner, the blanket Rudy had retrieved for you wrapped tightly around you. This would take some time.

Rudy came over and sat down next to you, giving you a chance to breath and relax. It was a strange world, a new environment, one you either weren't used to, hadn;t seen in a while, or had bad memories with. Alejandro closes the door leaving it open a crack to give some privacy without setting off any alarms in your head. Neither of them touch you, seeing it is clearly a trigger. Alejandro explained what happened and what was going to happen. There'd been reports of survivors and scavengers in the abandoned warzone, and they'd been called to assist with search and rescue. The medic needed to give you an exam to rule out injuries, diseases and infections. You were fine, you cooked your food properly, sterilized every cut you got, you never got so much as a cold, you didn't need a physical exam. Your skin is tougher on account of being a badger hybrid so cuts were harder to come by. That being said, Rudy had picked you up. He knew you were lighter than you should be.

Alejandro asked if he could see your ribs, and as if on cue, your stomach growled. You're just quiet, not saying anything or moving. The two men exchanged looks. Alright, they had to do this another way. Alejandro asked you if you wanted to get cleaned up first instead. They had some clean clothes for you to change into and could wash the ones you had on now. No one would bother you or interrupt you. You could give yourself a physical, and then report back. From there you could decide what to do next. That would be reasonable, and right now, warm water was sounding very tempting.

Cleaned and dressed you felt much more comfortable. It didn't stop you from tugging the hood down on the hoodie they'd given you. The base was colder than outside, and while you had some sunburning, it was in the healing stages. You asked Rudy if there was some cream or aloe you could use for it and he made sure you got some. As for the physical exam, it went okay. Rudy offered to stay in the room with you while they checked your throat, ears, and breathing. At the end of physical the main issue was some wounds that needed some extra cleaning and bandaging, and malnourishment.

You and Rudy both meet Alejandro in the cafeteria where there are a few other survivors. A couple you'd seen before, a couple you distance yourself from. Alejandro and Rudy keep an eye on you while you eat, sitting alone.

"It'll take time for her to adjust." Rudy commented.

"Hmm..." Alejandro was eyeing the others in the room. The ones that you were avoiding.

"CPS is on their way." Rudy added. "Hopefully she'll be collected by her family."

"You don't sound hopeful." Alejandro commented, still surveying the room. Protective as ever. He knew why his partner wasn't hopeful, but Rudy's voice was always welcome. Reminded him he wasn't guarding alone.

"How many kids end up in abandoned warzones without an adult?" Rudy commented. He wasn't wrong. You were on your own. Your parents taught you how to survive, and how to look after yourself, that was good enough. You were fine on your own.

"Colonel?" Alejandro's attention turned to the tablet being handed to him. Profiles of everyone they'd found were available to him on screen. As he looked over each one, he learned why you were sitting alone, and made the effort to avoid a couple of the others. He gives the order to keep an eye on a few of the people they found. Some of the others had petty crimes attached and were already on high alert. Making an arrest out in the open with all of them watching would raise too many alarms. When Alejandro looked up to match the faces to profiles, he noted the looks you were getting from the three people he intended to deal with.

Alejandro came over to your table, and asked to sit down, with you shrugging it was a free country. Deep down, you were glad he came over. You could feel eyes on you, hungry ones. It made you almost sick, but they may be from you eating too fast. One of them, an eagle harpy had looked like she was going to come over and sit with you instead, and you didn't want that. That had danger written all over it. Alejandro still had the tablet and asked if you could look at some photos for him, his voice low. Before answering you looked back to see some soldiers near the food, and asked if you could get some more food first. Alejandro nodded, and checked the profiles again.

As you got up, you could hear someone else get up, and all of the hair on your body stood on end. Fuck. You just wanted food, couldn't they leave you alone? Rudy stepped in, reading the situation like a book in large print. He stood between you and the woman, warning you he was behind you. The harpy tried to get close to you, as subtly as possible by reaching across for whatever was in front of you. Each time, Rudy just ushered you along. Holy shit she was persistent though. You reached for something and she reached for it, but Rudy turned and didn't glare but the look of judgement was a stronger warning.

"Ma'am, please be patient." He said, voice very firm. The harpy backed off, looking annoyed. The dog handler was keeping away a treat from her. Lucky for him she knew how to pick her battles. You finished getting you food and hurried away back to Alejandro, sitting a little closer. Alejandro gave you a gentle smile and let you eat for a bit longer while Rudy joined both of you and the harpy went back to her table. As soonas Alejandro noticed her glaring dangers at his partner, he glared at her in warning. Try something on his man, and Alejandro would be counting her feathers one by one as he plucked them.

Alejandro showed you the profiles of the three survivors, including the harpy woman. You recognized them alright. They'd tried shit with you before, but like the doctor, you showed them you had teeth and claws. Alejandro gave you praise for that. Once the tablet was away, he started asking about you, seeing if you had any interests, if the food was good, and if there was anything you needed to help with sleep.

You find that the worst part on base was boredom. You didn't have to go scavenging or searchinf anymore, but it was something you were craving. A lot. There was a large training course on base so you started going there whenever you could. Soldiers had to run through excerises, so you asked if you could maybe help set up. Alejandro had no issue with this, as long as you didn't pocket anything that wasn't yours.

Your task was to hide things, and in good places too. You didn't make it easy though. You would hide things, but you would hide them even further. Instead of inside cubbies or crates, you would put the items behind or in the corners where it was hard to see. On top of shelves or of the ground was no fun, so you got to digging and shoving things under turned over boxes.

A welcome challenge, one that Alejandro agreed was good, forcing his men to adapt quickly. The you got even more ridiculous, because you found small items on base you could use as fakes and decoys. To this day, even Alejandro is still trying to figure out where you got the rubber ducks to put in placement for hand grenades.

You were called at the end of the exercise after the soldiers tried to argue their reason for being unable to complete their the directive. When Alejandro asked you to show him one of the supply crates you did, and he asked you to bring out a grenade (fake for practice) you did so. A few of the soldiers gave you dirty looks. Alejandro asked you about decoys. You retrieved a decoy and put it in his hand.

“This was the decoy Mija?” He asked. You nodded. “This… this gives me more questions.”

A few smirks from his men, and Alejandro turned around. “Reminder to you all, that even a rubber duck can make for a good distraction.”

If there aren't any training excerises going on, you can still be found running and tumbling on the training grounds. You always manage to find some kind of stick. Sometimes other soldiers will come out to see what you're up to, and just keep a watch on you. A couple times the harpies would come out to watch you, and you would find a hiding place to wait for them to get bored and leave. Or another soldier would remove them.

You hid again, noticing wings just outside thew open gates. You waited and kept peeking to see if they had left yet. The harpy took off into the air to try and find you. You stayed hidden, waiting longer and longer. If only Alejandro had left some of the training weapons out so you could get rid of your hunter. Thankfully you didn't have to wait too much longer before a familiar white and passed through one of the walls.

It came over to you and curled up, resting it's head on your lap. It kept an eye on the entrances as you heard a yell from the colonel. You continued to wait unaware that the colonel was making an arrest. He'd discretely arrested another one of the trio without you noticing. While you were waiting for the coast to clear, Alejandro was tearing into the harpy like a fresh kill.

When the cadejo stood up and went to one of the entrances, you stood up. It was safe now, and just outside the small fort was Rudy. There was no verbal communication when you saw each other, just you going to him, and his arms wrapping around you. Rodolfo could feel you shaking. He assured you the harpy was arrested. Everything had to be kept discrete, not wanting the other survivors to panic or think they were in danger. Rudy and Alejandro had been working with you, learning what the trio of harpies had been trying to do.

"Ready to go back inside?" Rudy asked, after a few minutes. You nodded. Rodolfo smiled seeing you trying to keep a strong expression. Rudy turned and lowered himself, and you understood the offer. You got on his back and he carried you back to the gate where Alejandro stood, watching his partner. Damn, he looked like a dad.

The harpy woman found you alone, and kept quiet. Of course she was cooing about how adorable you were, trembling away. You didn't move only askef her to leave you alone.

"Leave you alone? Aww, but don't you want company? It's so hard living out there all by yourself isn't it?"

"Not that your friends would know, being so close to you." You retorted, smugly. "Bet they forgot what it's like."

"You little shi-"

"I wouldn't." A voice said from behind her. The harpy turned and saw Rudy with his cadejo. Not the sweet, white and blue one, but the menacing, snarling red and black spirit. It looked very hungry for chicken, but would settle for the next closest thing. Two other soldiers were backing him up, and moved in to arrest the harpy woman, who was demanding to know what was going on. As if she could even fake innocence. Her voice got louder as she kept screeching to be released. Rudy sighed and truned his attention to you. You were still shaking and helps you sit down.

"You're safe now. They're never gonna hurt you again." He assured you. You nodded, relieved but still pumped with adrenaline. You extend you pinky to him, without a word, and he returned the gesture. You move closer to him before leaning into his side.

Safe. You were safe.

"You really want to send her to a program?" Alejandro asked Rodolfo. No he didn't, honestly if Rodolfo could have his way, he would prefer to return you to your family, but you were alone. Over the month or so, you'd gotten a lot better. Physical touch had become a lot easier, you weren't hiding in corners as much, you were more social and some of the Vacqueros were inviting you to join them in whatever they were doing, including work tasks.

"Where else can she go Ale?" Rodolfo asked him. Alejandro didn't need to say anything for Rudy to pick up on what his man was saying. Kay this definitely could have used a lot more previous discussion. Rudy gave Alejandro a look that answered Alejandro's silent one. Alejandro sighed. "I'm sorry Ale, but that is something we need to talk about much more, and something she would need to agree to."

"She'll say yes." Alejandro said, convinced.

"Have you asked her yet?" Rudy countered. Nope. No he had not, but every time you were looking for something to do, you would come to them first. You would linger around them even if you weren't talking to them. Neither of them discouraged you from showing interest in their work. Hell, you even asked to spar with Alejandro once. The only reason he refused was because he was worried it might trigger a panic attack. You did get to spar with another soldier though, who went easy on you. Rudy could tell Alejandro wanted to keep you around, but with their work it was high risk. Both of their families lived away from base, at undisclosed locations. Having you stay with one of them could work, but it was another new environment, and new people. Rudy and Alejandro had a place of their own, but you were too young to live on your own still. "I'm sorry Ale, I want her to be happy too, but I don't think we're the ones to make it happen."

"... you have the paperwork for the programs?" Alejandro asked, giving in. Rudy had printed them a while ago, handing half over to the colonel. This was gonna be a couple hours. You didn't give them a couple hours, because a vacqueros knocked on the door, explaining you were missing. This wasn't uncommon, you often tried to hide on base, but they had checked everywhere. The two men exchanged a grave look. Shit, the paperwork had to wait. Rudy immediately pulls up camera footage of the entrances and exits, and sees you... holy shit you had dug under the fence. How long had you been working on that?

"How should we proceed?" Rudy asked.

"Sergeant gather some volunteers, we'll start on foot. She can't be too far." Alejandro ordered. The sergeant gave him a nod and salute before going looking for volunteers.

They'd split up into pairs, not wanting to overwhelm you. Rodolfo and Alejandro going off together. Alejandro had heightened senses and your scent to go on. Every half hour, soldiers radioed in with not much to say. Rudy was starting to feel a sense of guilt.

"Maybe she's been in a program before." Rudy wondered out loud. Alejandro had considered the possibility as well. Maybe you'd only heard about them and that's why you stayed away. They continued to call your name, the night growing darker and colder. Your scent was still fresh. Alejandro focused on that first and foremost, stepping carefully through the uneven ground, before stopping suddenly.

Rudy stopped, and looked at Alejandro, who started to scan the area. You were close. Rudy looked up, in case you might have tried to climb up somewhere. Nothing. Alejandro kept looking, hoping you hadn't ditched your jacket just to lose them. It was a tactic you'd learned, but with how cold it was getting, the last thing he wanted was for you to be lacking in layers.

"Y/N! Where are you?" Rudy called out. Alejandro turned, retracing his steps and found your scent again. Something smelled off though, setting alarms off in his head. He got Rudy's attention as he followed your scent again. Shit, you were laying in a ditch, groaning. There was blood on your arm, and two punctures. Shit!

Alejandro checked your pulse and found it weakened. Rudy didn't seen any snakes thankfully as he turneed you over, radioing in to the group that you'd been found. Alejandro started talking to you but you could barely hear it, sounding like distant echoes. He tried to ask you questions, and you could only whine out unintelligible responses.

"Mmm... fine...." You groaned, as Alejandro tugged you into his lap, so Rudy could started cleaning and sucking the poison out. You relaxed into Alejandro but nudged Rudy off.

"I know, I know, but the poison needs to come out." Rudy argued, trying to get you to stop fidgeting, even when you were weakly hissing.

"M'fine..." you moaned.

"Do you know what snake bit you?" Rudy asked, trying to keep you awake. You couldn't answer him, losing consciousness. Rudy cursed, while Alejandro tried to keep you awake. They had to move quickly, calling for assistance from a proper medic.

One benefit of being a badger hybrid is your resistance to snake venom. Can it still kill you? In theory, yes. If you didn't take care of yourself properly you could have succumbed to the symptoms, but thankfully Rodolfo and Alejandro had found you just in time. After some rest, a proper diet, and a bit of medicine you would be good as new. A human would have been far less fortunate.

Rudy and Alejandro waited outside your room for the doctor to come out. When the doctor emerged, they were both at attention to hear the details of your condition. You would recover but being sent to a program was discouraged for the time being. The two men were allowed in, finding you asleep in your bed.

"You're right. She needs to go to a program, where it's safe, and she can be sent to a proper home." Alejandro said, sitting in a chair, with his tail flicking behind him. Rudy found himself wanting to argue that it might be better if you stayed. You ran away from the base, what were the odds you'd run away from the program or even a foster home. What if you ended up with the wrong people because you ran away? Cartels could pick you up easily. Before Rudy was concerned about every worst-case scenario if you stayed, now he was listing every horrible outcome if you left. The second list was longer.

"Would she call it a proper home?" Rudy asked. Alejandro was pleased to hear Rudy changing his mind, but now he was less sure of his own statement. "It's safer on base."

"She got poisoned." Alejandro said.

"Because she ran away." Rudy said.

"You think she ran away just because?"

"I don't know why she ran away Ale-"

"And neither do you." You cut them off groaning. They'd woken you up. You were going to end the discussion once and for all. "I ran because I wanted to choose for myself. Everyone kept mentioning programs and sending me to a "better place" but no one was letting me decide."

The two men were quiet. They hadn't asked you at all. Legally, there were few options for what would happen to you. You would be sent to a program, where your fate wasn't just out of the hands of Los Vacqueros, but your own more than likely. They hadn't asked if you wanted to stay with them or stay on base. If you ran, you could have control over your life again. Would there be many options from there, no. But it would be your choice. Alejandro spoke up first.

"What do you want to do, mija?" He asked. He looked into your eyes directly. You weren't scared, they weren't meant to intimidate you either. Right now, if you told Alejandro you wanted to live in space, he was willing to help.

"I want to stay." You said in a small voice. Alejandro grinned, pleased. Meanwhile Rudy knew this was not going to be an easy change. There was going to be a battle with a program, but he figured because of your age and knowledge of your hybrid features, the program would be lenient with letting you stay on base.

"You'll have to pull your weight. Not just helping with exercises, the full nine yards. You'll do training along with the rest of the cadets, and you don't get to complain it's too hard." Alejandro told you. You had a feeling he would say that but you nodded in understanding.

"Sergeant Major, wheels up in 2 hours." You said, after knocking on Rodolfo's door. Rodolfo looked up from his packing and smirked with pride at you. You looked down at your attire looking for something out of place or maybe a stain you missed. Rudy just shook his head. "What is it?"

"Nothing your uniform is fine." Rudy said, putting a neatly folded stack of clothes in the bag before coming over to you. He opened his arms slightly offering a hug. You gladly took it, giving him an extra squeeze. They were going away for a while. You'd gotten used to them being absent for a few days, keeping up contact when there were opportunities. They were usually before lights out, since you were often busy with work on base.

"You better come back safe." You said.

"Tell that to my man." He muttered just loud enough for you to hear. You snickered, knowing exactly what he meant. You let go of him.

"You have everything?" You asked, while Rudy let you into his room and you sat on his bed. Rudy was the one who asked you that more than once.

"Yes Y/N." He said.

"Ale has his extra pair of safety glasses right?" You asked. Rudy nodded. You were mentally running through a packing list as you peeked in his bag. It was a small ritual by now, one the three of you would do whenever you had to leave for a while. Going over packing lists, and spending what time you had together before it was time to leave.

"Rudy have you see- never mind." Alejandro said, coming in and seeing you on the bed.

"You have your extra safety glasses right?" You asked him. Alejandro nodded, and you got up to give him a tight hug. "You finished packing?"

"Who do you think had to remind him to take his extra glasses?" Rudy piped up, as he put more items in his bag. You snickered, and Alejandro took the chance to tickle you for laughing at your superior. You just giggled, as you tried fruitlessly to fight back. Instead, you fled to the bed. Alejandro checked from a distance to make sure you were still playing before joining you on the bed.

"You'll call right?" You asked.

"Of course." Alejandro assured you, ruffling your hair. "We'll call if we need some extra help."

"You better." You told him. You got a tight hug from Alejandro as Rudy finished with his bag.

You followed your guardians out to the tar, going over a checklist for equipment. Before they stepped on to the ramp, you stood tall for them. You'd certainly grown into quite the little soldier. Both of them set down their bags to give you one final hug and a kiss on the head. You were going to miss them.

"Promise to come back safe?" You asked each of them. They both promised, as they always did. "Love you."

"Love you too, pequeña tejón." Rudy said, giving your hair another ruffle.

"Love you mija." Alejandro said.

You stepped away as they headed up the ramp, the engines starting to rev up. You stood tall, and saluted them both as the ramp was raised and shut behind them. You couldn't have asked for better parents.

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends @thriving-n-jiving @cutiecusp @shikigami-the-paper-spirit

[luveline]

Jadeee! I had a thought reading the last zombie au story, with r taking a bath in the cold water and she was super chilly maybe she gets a tad sick (maybe just some sniffles or a stuffy nose) and Robin and Steve kind of go overboard to take care of her? (And cuddles with Robin's new cat!!)

thank you for your request angel, hope this is ok. steve zombie au —steve and robin take look after you when you get sick. fem!reader, 2k

There are better places to feel shitty. You're the kind of sick that could get dangerous —hypothermia, maybe pneumonia, you got too cold after a cold wash in the river outside of camp and didn't warm up the right way— and it would be a thousand times easier in a building with central heating. But at least you're not in a tarp anymore. 

You, Steve and Robin share a real tent. It zippers closed and doesn't have any mesh, so heat brought inside of it doesn't ebb away immediately, like it had in the poorly constructed tarp tent. You pull your second blanket over your body and try to seem casually tired rather than sickbed exhausted as their footsteps return. 

"Hey, killer," Robin says as soon as she sees you, ducking under the tent's opening, a box in her hands. "You're finally awake. Since when do you sleep in?" 

"I'm tired from the girl's trip." 

"That was nearly a week ago," Robin says. 

"And yet you're still reaping the benefits," Steve says to her dryly as he follows her inside of the tent. He gets on his knees and crawls to your side. "Hello," he says, kissing your cheek. "Good morning." 

"Hey." 

He frowns at you. "Why do you sound like that?" 

"What? I just woke up," you say. 

Steve clearly doesn't believe you, and he's right not to. Sick of being a burden on him, you've stopped telling him about your aches and pains, your injuries, your worries. He absolutely hates it but no amount of begging has changed your mind. You're not interested in being his weight to carry. Love, sure, but there's no reason he should be so intrinsically responsible for your wellbeing. Or at least that's how you feel right now.

"Sarah's given Robin a present," he says, his eyes narrowed at you. "Are you okay?" 

"I'm fine. What did you get, Robs?" 

Robin slides the lid off of the box eagerly to show you the contents. "It's a baby grow, only Sarah's cut off the arms and legs and sewed the hems. I'm going to put it on Stinkyboy." 

"I thought his name was Shark?" you ask. 

"Or something as stupendously stupid," Steve mutters. He smells like woodsmoke. "Are you sure you're okay? You don't look okay." He rubs under your eye with his thumb. "You're all puffy." 

"I don't think you can speak to her like that, Steve," Robin says. 

Her deadpan delivery makes you laugh, and it's a perfect segue to new conversation and away from your unokay-ness. "Are you and Sarah, like… you know?" 

Robin looks at you for a second. "Like what?" 

"Romantic?" you whisper. 

"Oh, no. She's my new Steve, I'm replacing him."

"Can't you replace him with me?" you ask. 

Steve puts his hand on your forehead. "You're warm. You're warm, shithead, are you sick?" 

"No?" You frown as his hand moves to the back of your neck. You're not warm there, you're a furnace. 

"You're actually sick?" he asks, frowning down at you. "What, were you just not gonna say anything?" 

"It's not that bad," you mumble. 

Robin and Steve make simultaneous sounds of disbelief. "You really weren't gonna say anything?" Robin asks. 

They talk so quickly. 

"I don't know for sure if I'm sick, and neither do you guys, don't worry so much." You sit up to get away from Steve's overly cautious hands, black spots behind your eyes and a shooting pain at the back of your head. "Ew," you say, bringing your hand to your eyes, "Maybe I'm sick."

Steve puts his arm behind your shoulders. "Dummy," he says, rubbing your arm. 

"What he said." Robin stands up. "I'm gonna go track down some breakfast for little miss secretive. I'll be back. Don't let her die." 

"I'll try not to," Steve says. 

When Robin's gone, Steve gets nicer. Which isn't to say he's mean when she's around, of course he isn't, but he's polite enough to spare her the full reality of his affection for you, and maybe slightly shy about it. He gathers you into his chest and rubs his cheek against your crown. "You're so warm, honey. I'm not fucking around, you have to tell me when you're not okay." 

"You can't do anything about it, Steve, just a flu." 

"Where would you have caught the flu?" 

"I mean, I must've got it from the cold. It's a cold, that's all it is." 

"You sure?" he asks, his hand snaking under your shirt. He takes an unabashed handful of your stomach. "How do you feel?" 

"I'm fine, Steve." 

It isn't without fondness, but it's said to be simple and straight. Steve tends to catastrophize —why wouldn't he? You can't be cut, you have to be bleeding out. You can't trip, you always fall flat on your face. You have the worst luck in the entire world (or, almost, getting bit would plant you firmly in the worst luck category). And Steve's the one who pays for it, every single time. 

So you assure him as best as you can and describe your symptoms honestly. "My head hurts, and I feel like I'm on fire. My hands and my legs are really hot, but I don't feel sick. It's not food poisoning, and it probably isn't, like, influenza."

"I guessed that much." 

"Oh, did you?" you murmur, turning in his arms to hug him back, and better. Steve gives the best hugs for you, but you know everything that he likes down to the placement of your pinky finger. You do your own skin-searching and slide your hands under his shirt, one palm roving over each bump of his spine to the midway point. His skin is smooth as velvet under your touch here, and noticeably colder. "Stevie," you say, still murmuring as you drag your fingertips down to the base of his back, "I love you. Don't worry, okay? I caught a chill from the river." 

"I do worry," he murmurs back, nuzzling your temple with his scratchy cheek. 

"I know, baby." 

"It's hard to be the one in charge when you speak to me like that," he says. 

"Who says you're in charge?" 

You snuggle like fools until Robin insists you eat your breakfast outside in the cold, which you abhor but your feverish skin appreciates. Steve sits on one side of you and Robin on the other. 

You know Robin likes you, but you think she must really love you, she's so worried. She doesn't say it, but she keeps glancing your way with a pinch between her eyebrows, and she asks you twice if your breakfast, a lukewarm soup she procured from the campfire, is hot enough. You lie each time, 'cos cold soup stopped bothering you a long time ago, and she's a sweetheart for caring. 

Steve suggests a group reading, as in, he grabs a book and usually you'd read, but you're sick, and they both tell you it isn't your turn. Steve reads, practised by now, more confident with each page. He even tries to follow the dialogue tags, whispering and sighing when instructed. 

You start to nod off. There are things you should all be doing, but none of you move. You can't report for washing duty, you can barely stand, and Steve refuses to go without you. Robin's supposed to take baby Ada for two hours. When Robin doesn't show up, one of the other members of the camp appears and makes her take her anyway. 

"You should strike," you say, woozy on Steve's arm. Your fever is getting worse. The cold breeze helps some, but eventually Steve's gonna have to dunk you in the river. 

"I should." She hugs the baby on her chest. "I don't even really like babies. Like, I'd die for her, but kids aren't my thing. At least, they weren't." 

"She's quiet," Steve says. 

"Why don't you hold her, Stevie?" you ask. He loves kids. 

"I'm busy with my own baby." 

You can't decide if it's funny or romantic. You fall asleep against his side and wake a few times throughout the evening, your face in his lap, his hand protective in your hair or against your ear. He wakes you at dusk, kissing a stripe down your cheek. 

"Sorry," he says softly by your ear, "but I can't carry you." 

"You would if you loved me," you tease, your eyes sticky and hard-pressed to open. 

Steve helps you stand and takes more of your weight than necessary as you walk back to your tent. Robin's already inside sans baby Ada, and she has a surprise for you. 

"Tada!" she says. "It's a pillow." 

You rub your eyes with your fist. "Aw," you mumble, disoriented, "yis."

Steve laughs like you're the cutest thing on earth, and he helps you sit down. You're horrified that you actually need him to, almost slipping and smashing your head on the packed dirt ground as your leg buckles under your weight. Now that would've made you sick. 

One fool on your left and another on the right, you rest your aching head on Robin's miraculous pillow and breathe a sigh of relief. 

"Where did you get this?" you ask. 

Robin taps the side of her nose. "Not saying." 

You huff at being out of the know but are ultimately too tired to pioneer for your right to know —you nod off a minute later, and vaguely recollect the sound of the tent zipper. 

Much later, you wake to whispers. 

"He has fleas, Robin," Steve says. 

A weight lands on your legs. "He doesn't anymore! And fleas don't live on people." 

"But they bite. And they have diseases! Stinkyboy can't stay in here." 

"Stinkyboy has just as much right to shelter as you do." 

"No, he doesn't. Not if he's going to give bubonic plague to the love of my life." 

You try to wake up properly. All you manage is a weak sound and a leg twitch. There's a sharp and sudden silence, disrupted only by a thwacking of skin on skin. 

"Did you just hit me?" Robin whispers furiously. 

"No! You tried to hit me, I was defending myself!" 

"You're so done. I'm taking Stinkyboy and Y/N in the divorce." 

"Idiot! Shut up, you'll wake her up. She needs to sleep to get better." 

"You're the idiot, idiot. Isn't that right, Stinky? Isn't Uncle Steve just the worst?" 

After a night of tossing and turning, you finally wake at daybreak. You're confused at first when you can't see Steve, until you realise he's pulled your head into his lap again, stroking the skin before your hairline. It tickles. 

"I still feel awful," you say hoarsely. 

"I don't think you'll recover after just one day," Steve whispers back. Robin sleeps beside you, a blanket wrapped bundle of cat at her feet. 

"You let her let the cat in?" you ask.

"We actually argued about it at length." Steve's fingertips draw a heart over your temple. "She swears that flea ointment stuff worked, but I found a flea on my sock. I'm furious." 

"You sound it." 

"Don't worry. She has to de-flea everything, we made a contract." 

"Well," you say. "It's a big tent." 

It most certainly isn't. If Stinkyboy was as rife with fleas as he was when he first came along Steve would've put his foot down and so would’ve you rather than let him stay, but he only has a few stubborn ones hanging around, and Steve feels really sorry for the poor cat. Imagine how lonely he must have been, he'd said, and then coughed, like sympathy was something to be embarrassed of. 

You feel very sorry for the cat, but you absolutely don't want fleas. You ask Steve to help you go down to the river so you can change your clothes and wash the ones you'd been wearing. You're still too sick to do a good job, but Steve sits half behind you and helps your aching arms scrub the fabric against the makeshift washer (corrugated metal from a shed roof).

Being sick isn't so bad when you have that much love at your back, metaphorically and physically. You lean all of your weight on him and sigh. 

"Love you," you say. 

"Love you," he says back. He holds your wet hands in his. "Now let's go and warm you back up, loser. You're just dying to get hypothermia." 

"It's in season." 

"Funny." 

[ghcstao3]

ok more natm statue!ghoap because i’m insane

(edit: part 2 !!)

-

John has long since lost track of how long he’d been a display in the museum when Simon arrives.

His room had been sectioned off one morning, about an hour after sunrise, which is typically indicative of one of three things: repairs, renovations, or a new addition to the exhibit. And whichever it is, it has excitement thrumming through John, waiting to be released come the next night.

He’s always been a fan of change, however insignificant.

And come two hours after the ropes are set up at every entrance to the room, in is rolled a statue of John’s size, a translucent tarp draped over the carving itself as John had once found himself to be, however many years ago. Museum employees work quickly to install the new piece, plaque and pedestal and all, and once that tarp is removed—if John had lungs, he thinks his breath might’ve been stolen away.

Simon—or Ghost, as his placard reads, and as John first knows him as—is the most beautifully carved statue John has seen in his centuries of existence. It’s clear that his details were etched into pale stone with care and love, every fold of fake cloth, every wrinkle of false skin intricate and deliberate.

The separate slate of stone that serves as a piece of skull to mask Ghost’s face is more than intriguing enough for John to know he wants to meet the other statue the moment the museum closes that night. He knows he want to be the one to introduce Ghost to the world of the living the museum is so generous to offer, no matter how limited it is.

He has to be the one.

It’s no surprise, once the exhibit is reopened, that so many visitors flock around Ghost. John wishes he could be among them, warm and brimming with real, human life—but at the same time, he’s also happy to be where he is, with the opportunity to stare at Ghost forever.

John feels giddy, contained within his frozen form, when the final call announcements sound. When he feels the freeing magic loosen his limbs, his joints slow to movement, he’s immediately off his pedestal to wander over to Ghost.

Who has yet to move.

He knows the first night for any new display is strange. Some are hesitant, unwilling to break their original form. Others are eager, the first to wake.

John had been the latter.

“I wanted to welcome you,” John says, staring up at Ghost. He can tell Ghost knows he can relax his pose, and yet he remains tense. “My name’s John. Do you have a name?”

Piercing eyes shift to peer down at John. Still, Ghost does not move. A beat, a lull of silence if not for the other displays also coming to life, then, “Can’t you read?”

John grins. Ghost’s voice is wonderful deep, wonderfully full. “I can,” he replies, tilting his head. “But sometimes that isn’t the right name.”

Ghost’s jaw shifts, his shoulders finally dropping, the hand that’s poised and holding his mask in place falling away with the skull to reveal a face just as stunning as the rest of his composition, all sharp lines and smooth stone. He still watches John from above, though now with a gentle curiosity that holds questions that would never be asked, at least not tonight.

Quietly, almost timid, Ghost amends, “Simon. That’s my name.”

“Well, Simon.” John extends a hand out to Simon to help him off his pedestal. To John’s surprise, Simon doesn’t hesitate to take it—and again, he feels that in another life, he’d be breathless by now. “Why don’t I show you around?”

What he means to say, is that he looks forward to an eternity alongside Simon, the magnificent piece of art that he is.

And he hopes some day, Simon will feel the same.

[ask-trashhunter]

Ok folks!!! OOC post!! I have 16 Trash Hunter designs now, which means I should be able to run a bracket tournament that lines up pretty neatly! :D

First though I wanna introduce you to all the designs I've done so far!!

All of these have a unique name for voting purposes, but don't worry about remembering them all I'll show pictures of them every time!

Human Hunter 1

Starting off simple, this is Human Hunter 1! The OG, the classic, my pfp! Honestly I kinda rushed this design bc I made this blog on a whim, so I had to make the design super quick! I spent like a little over an hour on this, and I had only really spent 15 extra minutes beforehand thinking about their design, so that's around 1 and a half hour total...... Idk how long I spent on the others. Anyway, basically their top half is pretty human looking, EVERYTHING about them is as green as I managed to get it (green is Their Color to me) and then their bottom half is basically meant to just be a trashy sludge that sort of melts and merges with their landfill. It's hard to tell where the landfill starts and where Trash Hunter ends. Oh yeah- and I have like 3 drawings of them in this style, their skin tone varies a LOT between each drawing lol. um. you haven't seen. the third one btw haha. it's totally not of me and trash hunter holding hands why would you even say that

Human Hunter 2

Alright, this is my second "human" Trash Hunter design. I wasn't quite happy with my first one, so I wanted to change it to something more like this. However!! I never actually got to finish my design until I watched something that changed the way I thought forever. I finished this drawing just this monday actually, because I'd forgotten I had no finished drawing of Human Hunter 2. I want you to remember that giant grapply arm they have and those spider legs. Also, you'll notice there's a line next to them, and it says "Cop" under. That's how tall Copper would be (per my headcanons) next to the various Trash Hunter designs. They really vary in size. For reference, I headcanon Copper as 152 cm, or 5 feet. I'll add a size chart in at the end- they won't be 100% accurate to the pictures but it'll be in the same area at least.

Trashbag Hunter

Ok this. This is where my life changed. I watched the hodgepodge audio new year's patreon video and got friggen mentioned. Hi Raddagher if you're seeing this I'm still not normal about Trash Hunter. I started feeling a bit insecure about my designs like I'd been boring about them so I was trying to redeem myself. When I started imagining Trash Hunter as a fucking trash bag with grillspyd- er- collapsible grilling skewer thingies- for legs. And holy FUCK I could not get the image out of my head it's hillarious and adorable. Relisten to the episode and imagine Trash Hunter like this TRUST ME /nf

Either way, this is where I started to expand my horizons. The trash bag and the grillspyd are sort of reocurring atp. Also this was my Discord pfp for a while, now I've changed it. Might change it back eventually honestly? I don't do that. I don't repeat profile pictures ever. Ok I might have done that at some point. But for now my pfp stays the same. This is my PFP over on bluesky though!

Anyway this is the cutest shit I've ever imagined- the drawings that follow are mostly random doodles I've made at D&D or during class. BUT FIRST!!!

Pony Hunter

Ok so I play ponytown. I played a bit ages ago and then I almost forgot it existed, then my friendo kept showing off what they were doing on there and I'd seen a few vids on it recently and long story short I've made 16.5 new ponies on there and most of them are Hodgepodge Audio themed. Ponytown Pony Hunter doesn't usually wear that turtle but in this screenshot they do. The drawn version shows a bit more how I actually view them though. Oh and that IS a croissant behind their ear, thanks for asking!! (I've been waiting to say that for months, I'm overjoyed now)

Their tail is a compact mirror btw! And that tarp they have in game, those are actually wings, teehee! Oh and I forgot to say why they have croissants behind their ears- basically I was looking at the horns and realized one set of horns was kinda curvy in a croissant-y way. So I was like eh, heck it. Croissants.

Seagle Hunter

This is where the chaos started. I was at DND, and we were on a quest to help a god. We met a seagull who was definitely not a fucking seagull. I ended up getting downed and when we were like what, 5 hp away from killing whatever creature was wrecking our shit, our 2 remaining teammates fucking left us. My character Thomoras only survived because one of our teammates asked the seagull to intervene, and the seagull fucking killed the creature. Thank you, seagull. I called you Karl but I never got your real name. I'm sure you wouldn't have answered if I asked. Anyway!! All that talk about seagulls that session got me thinking "Seagull. Trash Hunter. Trash Hunter seagull." this is an accurate depiction of how I think Always. So yeah I drew them as a seagle (<- that's how I prefer writing seagull) and I was like hell yes let's draw them as more silly things because I focus better when I draw!

So I started asking people for ideas.

Goblet Hunter

And this is officially were I lost it I think. I mean, I learned to disregard canon with this. I have a few different Little Guys as I call them, and they're definitely not canon at all, BUT THEY'RE SO CUUUUTE HELLO!!! 😭😭 I asked my DND buddy to give me a random item and so I drewed this bc they said goblet....... I fucking love these so much honestly

Soup Hunter

I love soup. What more is there to say? They call me the soup enjoyer. I switch in whenever we're about to have soup. I soup my faves. I spam the soup emoji (🥣) when I get too excited for words. It had to be done! It just had to! If you want you can imagine the soup is garbage soup. Or you know those witch potions a lot of people made as a child? Using acorns and grass and flowers and whatever you could find? Could be that too. Or maybe it's brogle soup becos it's my fave and they are my fave :)

Perfectly Generic Object Hunter / PGO Hunter

It had to come eventually. The Homestuck reference. My friend said for me to make them cube and I was like "I heard Homestuck, yes? Homestuck it is."

So yeha they're a green cube now :3

Egg Hunter

They're an egg now. They're just a huge fucking egg and they roll around. They just roll around.

I'm not allowed to add more images hold your horses for the reblog, I'll get image IDs done before I post this though so next reblog should be up in not all that long

[fizzyboi-98]

🌧️💧Rainy day Headcannons for quil, embry, seth and jacob, 🌧️💧

~Quil ateara~

Most days raining or not are spent on patrol with the pack in the woods,

But the times he does have with you, you both sit on the porch with tea, coffee, or hot chocolate, and a blanket and cuddle, he's so warm, but if you're a wolf too then no blanket,

"I love you so much" his pretty brown eyes sparkling, he looks so love struck when he looks at you sometimes,

Sweet baby boy smiles a lot when you're with him, you cuddle and talk about everything & anything, he likes playing with your hair that lays on your back & the back of your neck or around your face,

The wolf boys love feeling their imprint's warm skin on theirs, his hand on your skin somehow, if you're ok with it of course,

Reading to him or him reading to you cuddled together for awhile.

) Jacob black (

He honestly wants nothing more than to eat dinner and take a nap with you in his dark room listening to the rain hit the roof, or take a nap midday and shut the curtains,

(he can't sleep in anything but complete darkness) he kisses you on the forehead and drifts off to sleep knowing you're safe and asleep against him, (also he snores but pretty quietly).

- > Embry call < -

(as I've said) he would want to go camping, you two don't even have to be far away from yours or his house,

he would put up the tent with or without your help before the rain starts (and put the rain tarp on of course)

You two would eat whatever you brought or eat inside before going out to the tent, but what he really wants is what he calls (the best sleep he's ever gotten)

If you're a shifter or not he still sleeps shirtless, if you're not, he'll keep you warm but if you are then you'll keep each other warm,

he'd honestly want as much skin content with you as you're comfortable with while you sleep, he loves sleeping in the warm tent listening to the wind and rain with you (it is the best sleep he's had) ;)

// Seth clearwater //

I feel he'd want to take a walk with you while it rains, wearing rain coats and boots he doesn't need them maybe neither do you but since he wants to walk around in public places with you it would be pretty weird to be barefoot and not dressed for the rain walking around forks,

Maybe check out some stores and/or just walk around, but holding hands is mandatory, talking about whatever's going on in yours and his busy or slow week,

Stop to eat and make a cute little date out of it (like this wasn't his plan all along)

Running into an old family friend and watching him grin sheepishly when they say how cute you two are. "ha, thanks."

Bringing back some dinner for leah and their mom, and when you get to his room he gives you the hoodie/jacket/sweater he was wearing because it's so warm and smells like him and his body wash/cologne

He puts something else on and you two watch movies with leah and his mom, not caring if you fall asleep on each other,

A/n thanks for reading ☺️🫧

🌧️💧🌧️💧🌧️💧🌧️💧🌧️💧🌧️💧🌧️💧🌧️💧🌧️💧🌧️💧

april/21/23

[mindingmybidness12]

Zombie Lover[Wednesday Addams x zombie! GN! Reader]

Summary: Wednesday learns something interesting about you.

Warnings: Mentions of bodily harm. More on the ridiculous side but still.

Word Count: 700 words

************************************************************************

“Hey, how ‘s it going?”

“You have a knife in your shoulder.”

“Yes.”

“You have my knife in your shoulder.”

“That is correct.”

“Why?”

“Well I was watching a cool action sequence and it had some knife fighting. I wanted to try it but I don’t own any knives. But I knew you did. One thing led to another and… well.”

“Give it back…”

“Ok.”

You reached up and snagged the knife out of your left shoulder. Ignoring the burning pain and the blood pouring out of the wound, you turned to give it back to  Wednesday but thought again.

“Hey… do you mind giving me a second to—“

“I can wipe the blood off myself later. Don’t you think that there’s a more pressing issue to deal with first?”

“Like what?”

“You are bleeding you idiot.”

“I noticed.”

“…you’ll die if you bleed out, you ignoramus.” 

“I won’t die.” You replied while waving Wednesday off without a care in the world,”I have an incredible healing factor with an abnormally high pain tolerance to match. For example.”

You picked a conveniently placed ax off of a nearby desk.

“My ax.” Wednesday supplied

“I will be using your ax for this demonstration.”

“Give it b-”

“Observe.”

“What are you–!”

“Observe. HYAH!!”

With an unnecessary battle cry, you lopped off your own left hand with a swipe, sending your hand and blood flying across the room. Wednesday stood frozen in shock at your insane act. Before she could even begin to start yelling at you for doing something so outrageous, the door to her dorm opened and Enid walked in.

“Hey, why is Thing just slumped on the floor bleeding?!”

Thing crawled out from Enid’s drawer with lotion in tow at the sound of his name. Enid looked between both disembodied hands and then finally turned towards you and Wednesday. She took one look at Wednesday's shell shocked face and towards you with a missing hand and bloody ax and nearly lost her mind.

“Wait before you get mad know that it’ll grow back in-”

*POP*

“Oh there it goes.”  your hand grew back in a spray of blood and wet pop to accompany it.

*THUD*

Enid could only take so much.

“Well that could’ve gone a bit better.”

Wednesday turn towards you and just stared with her usual brand of utter disdain

********

“No, I've never seen how far my regeneration could go. I’m curious but not that curious.”

You were answering Wednesday’s questions of your newly discovered (by her) abilities as you and her cleaned up the bloody mess you left on the floor. Enid was still unconscious on her bed with Thing tending to her.

“Would you…like help discovering the extent of your abilities?”

“No…I’d imagine that would hurt quite a bit.” You raised an eyebrow at the girl's seemingly eager tone.

“We could start off slow. See if you leave any scars from cuts before we jump back to dismemberment.”

“Why'd you already have a game plan? Shouldn’t you be more… I don’t know, weary?”

“On the contrary, Y/n. Your new revelation has left me quite excited I must admit. I suggest you take me up on my offer. After all, it is important to your growth to test your own limits.”

“This sounds like we’re moving a bit too fast in a direction I’m not too sure I wanna go yet chief.”

“I’ll be gentle.” Wednesday promised

“Ayo, pause.” you recoiled at her choice of words.

“Pause what?” she looked just a touch confused at your reaction.

“Just…nevermind.” You didn’t want to have to be the one to explain Wednesday’s accidental bedroom talk to her.

******

“Ok my safe word is “AYO” just so you know.” 

In the end you ended up agreeing to Wednesday’s offer. Now you find yourself strapped to a chair with a tarp placed under you. You and Wednesday were in the Hummer’s shed and Eugene was given orders not to disturb the two of you.

“Also we can just go bury the limbs I end up losing in the forest or you can put them all in jars filled with suspicious viscous liquid…whichever tickles you more. I regrow everything back pretty fast anyways.”

“After my own heart are you?” Wednesday smirked as she snapped rubber gloves onto her hands while standing in front of various sharp pointy torture tools.

“Well, I gotta say. Craziest first date ever. Not even close.”

************************************************************************

A/N: And that's that! I'm not dead hurray! Had to take time off because of life but now I'm back. Leave a like and reblog and comment what you guys think. I'll see you when I see you!