#only real downside is that there's no real window

[klutzytomb]

New-ish desk setup btw. The drawer of this desk is also filled with sticky notes

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART FOUR

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, violence, kidnapping, angst, blood, 141 are still mean pirates ): kind of, very brief mentions of death masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

There were no ifs, ands, or buts about sleeping arrangements. Price, the Captain that he was, would have it his way, and his way was keeping you secured in the stuffiness of his own quarters.

It was uncomfortable, the way you shared the bed with him. He was a large man, much larger than you, and his bed only had so much space to fit the two of you. In the midst of the nights, you’d feel his leg brush against yours, or feel the soft rumble of his quiet snores from where he laid beside you.

It was far from ideal. As much as you hated it, it was an upgrade from your cell down in the brig. Price’s bed was softer, more plush, and it sank you in every time you slept on it. The situation was no better, but it wasn’t any worse, either.

The downside, though, was that you were just as much a prisoner as you were in the cell. Price made it known that you weren’t to leave his quarters under any circumstance.

They brought you meals in rotations. Sometimes Soap would show, cracking a horrible joke that left you rolling your eyes. Or sometimes it’d be Gaz, who hardly spared you a word of conversation, though you could see the faint glimpse of pity in his eye.

Then there was Ghost. A pure enigma, darkened by shadowy demons that were hidden beneath his mask. He never uttered a word to you, nor looked at you. He did his bidding by slapping down a bowl of poorly made stew and immediately making his exit before you could get a single word in.

Price wouldn’t bring you your meals, though you convinced yourself it was because he was avoiding you. You thought his original plan of having you sleep in his quarters would be for something diabolical and sinful, yet he made no effort to touch you nor get to know you. It was nice, knowing he wasn’t there to do things against your will, but it was also confusing, wondering what his real plan was for you.

It was as if sleeping with a wall, which you weren’t sure whether to be grateful or not. These men were far from people you wanted to be a part of, but the desire for a friend was beginning to outweigh your spite.

You were an outcast aboard this ship. Secluded from the world, and isolated from the only people you were surrounded by. It was a dreadfully lonely life to be living. Your only friend was the sea, and even that was something you were torn away from, locked away in the quarters with only a small window to offer a view of it.

The door of Price’s quarters barged open, disrupting you from your woe. None of them ever bothered to knock. They were savages, bred with no proper manners in the presence of a woman. But really, you weren’t a woman to them. You were labor. An inconvenience.

“Get up,” Ghost grumbled from his stand in the doorway, hand knuckling the rusty knob. “Goin’ shoppin’.”

“We’re on land?” you asked, standing from Price’s cot. Ghost grunted in response. “And I’m to… join you?”

“You need supplies, don’t you?” he gruffed, eyes narrowing in on you. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

The door abruptly slammed shut, leaving you alone in the quarters once again.

Land? They were allowing you to join them on their journey to land, to aid you in getting supplies necessary to work as a proper medic? It seemed surreal, yet bittersweet.

Gaining new supplies set your position on their crew in stone. They intended to keep you as theirs, and only trusted you enough to let you get off of the ship under their watch.

Yet, you’d be able to feel the grass between your toes once again. To feel the summer sun soaking in your skin, to hear the chatter of villagers fill your ears. You’d feel the liveliness of people apart from these heartless, savage pirates.

You’d be able to escape.

If you remained clever, you could leave the hands of Captain Price and create a new life far from their ship. This was your one and only opportunity to venture towards the life you always wanted for yourself.

You appeared as neutral as ever when you left the quarters to join the four men where they stood, clearly speaking amongst each other. You couldn’t show the rushing adrenaline coursing through you, not if you wanted to get away alive.

“Ach, there ye are, dove,” Soap huffed in annoyance, grabbing hold of your bicep to surge you towards him. You collided with his side, knocking the air out of your lungs. “Yer with me.”

“Stick with Soap,” Price ordered. His glare sent chills down your spine. “You are to get what you need under his watch. Try anythin’ funny and he won’t be so kind with you.”

“She’s fine, Cap, no need to worry. She won’t do anythin’ silly. Ain’t that right, dove?” Soap beamed, a touch of crazy leering down at you.

The plan in your head was beginning to feel too soon and too dangerous. You could only swallow nervously, giving a firm nod in return before they helped guide you off of the ship.

The town was lively around you. It was nothing like your home. Where you had grown with the quiet chirps of nature and gentle conversation, you were now greeted with an angry bustle of rushing townsfolk, brushing past you as if you were a ghost.

You felt out of touch with your surroundings. Others were dressed in fresh fabrics, altered to their frame. The women were pretty, hair unmatted and braided to frame their lovely faces while the men were covered from head to toe with the finest of coats.

Not all were as fortunate. There were a select few you caught glimpses of as you passed who were as dirty as you were, shoeless and hopeless. Begging for scraps of food or cheap coins, only to be spat on like the scum of the Earth.

You were no different. Next to Soap, you looked like a helpless, little mouse with dirty bags of fabric that fell loosely on your body, with your feet blackened from the lack of cover. It was utterly humiliating.

Soap kept a solid grip on your arm as he led you through the heaps of shoppers. He kept his eyes forward, scoping out any possible threat. You could see the hardwired focus geared in his brain, as if working on pure muscle memory.

“Pretty neat of a place, aye?” Soap asked, attempting small talk. He glanced over at you, wearing that boyish grin of his.

“It’s wonderful,” you replied, taking in the sights.

You meant it. Shops lined every corner of the dirt paths, windows displaying pretty dresses or tailored suits. Where you expected the town to look depressing, you found color, filling you with a warm dose of serenity.

This was a town you could grow to love. It was busy and loud, but the opportunity seeped out through every corner, calling your name. Your freedom rang out like a bell, offering you a place for your dreams to come true.

You had to escape if you truly wanted it. Your plan would have to unfold, even if it meant being patient.

“Yer bound to see a whole lot more towns better than this one, dove,” Soap boasted, grinning with pride. “Ye will grow to accept us one day.”

You stared up at Soap while the two of you walked. It was a shame, really, that he was the only one decently kind to you. Kind was far too generous of a word to describe any of these men, but it was the closest thing to what Soap was being towards you.

He was still a pirate, though.

“I am not so sure of that,” you confessed, unsure of why you did.

“Ach, ye will. The rest are secretly a bunch of softies,” he claimed, waving a dismissive hand. “We’re still human even if we’re pirates.”

“You’ve kidnapped me,” you stated.

“Mm. Yes.”

“You burned down my home,” you continued.

“Perhaps.”

“You killed my people,” you finished.

“You know nothin’ of what we do, dove. How about we keep shoppin’ for ye and stop worryin’ about the past?” Soap asked, not unkindly. He was surprisingly composed despite your accusations.

You stared at him for a moment longer before looking away. There was no point in arguing when the plan was to escape the moment you had the chance. Today would be the last day you’d ever have to converse with Soap and his men, if you played your cards right.

“You’re right,” you said quietly. “I apologize.”

“There ye go, dove.” Soap returned to smiling, giving a mocking pinch to your grimy cheek. “Now, what all do ye need?”

Soap made escape increasingly difficult. His hand remained secure around your arm for every shop you went in, keeping you by his side. It was as if he had a secret sense that let him know of your plans. Or perhaps he was following Price’s orders.

He stuck with you with every purchase. You gathered herbs, freshly made medicines, and a new book and quill to jot down notes in a journal. Soap allowed you the pleasure of collecting expensive items, unwavered by the prices.

He paid for them in gold, little round coins he’d slap on to the counter and leave behind without waiting for the shop tenant to gawk at such a rare sight of payment.

It wasn’t until you passed a clothing shop did he falter. His steps had stopped, eyes peering into the window. You stopped with him, dissecting his reaction.

“Sorry, dove. Makin’ a stop for myself,” he stated, tugging you into the shop. To your surprise, he let go of your arm, leaving you standing near the entrance. “Stay put. I’m trustin’ ye, so don’t make me regret it, aye?”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you gave him a nod. He threw you a beaming smile before stalking off into the store, disappearing just out of sight. You remained firm in place, hands clasping in front of you.

The pit in your stomach twisted from the nerves that wracked you. This was your moment, your only chance of escape. If you didn’t take it now, you may never be lucky enough for another one.

As if fate was sealing itself, your eyes caught sight of a group of guards walking past the store, wooden rifles at the ready on their shoulders. They were speaking amongst themselves, oblivious to your inner turmoil from where you stood in the entrance of the shop.

A quick glance behind you showed that Soap was still occupied, unbeknownst to your plan. You could only see the top of his head, the messy mohawk sticking out like a sore thumb.

With the opportunity in front of you, you took it.

You moved slowly at first. Unsure, cautious. But once you made it out of the shop with Soap realizing, you amped your speed. Your dirty bare feet clambered clumsily along the dusty streets, digging into the little pebbles that littered them.

The dull sting of pain as you sprinted to the guards was disregarded. It was nothing compared to the ache of freedom you desired.

“Hello!” you shouted, garnering their attention. They turned, eyeing you with a judgmental glint at the state of you. “Please, I need help!”

“What can we do for you?” one of the guards asked, suspicious. His eyes were set on your feet, which were caked with months of filth. “A lass like you shouldn’t be out without a chaperone.”

“You don’t understand,” you gasped, catching your breath from the anxiety that rattled you like a drum. “I’ve been kidnapped by— by pirates and I’ve only just escaped. Please, I need your help, or they will take me back.”

“Pirates?” The guards perked up, glancing between one another as if sharing a secret you were unaware of. “How many pirates, lass?”

“Four,” you explained. “The Captain— his name is John Price. He is the one that took me from my village and I have been imprisoned on his ship for so long, I do not recall the days. Will you help me?”

You were frantic. Desperate. It showed in the way your voice shook, the way your frame shivered with nerves.

“It is not,” Guard Two said to his companion.

“It is,” Guard One said, the one who had spoken to you first. This time, they spoke to one another rather than to you, as if you were invisible. “There is only one Captain Price. It is 141.”

Guard Two looked over at you, face set firm. His eyes were piercing and cold, and it made you shrink down into yourself. They were not welcoming or kind like you expected a guard’s to be.

Guard One fumbled in the pocket of his britches before pulling out an aged paper. On it were the faces of the pirates with the exception of Ghost, covered by his signature mask. All of them were plastered on the page with a bounty over their heads, as well as a promise of exile for their arrest.

Execution. The pirates would be executed publicly if they were caught. The punishment was inked in bold letters beneath their pictures, and each letter was taunting you with the blood that would be spilled on your hands for turning them in.

An unsettling guilt began to gnaw at you. You were unsure of why. Captain Price and his crew had stolen you from your home and made you their medic. They had you sleeping in a cell for nights uncounted, eating slop out of a bowl like a dog.

Yet, to kill them was much too burdening on you. They were mean, heartless, and unworthy. Yet, death was unkind. You were not so shallow.

“Is this what they look like?” Guard One asked, holding the paper in front of you. It was undoubtedly them, down to every detail.

“Yes,” you confirmed, though not as confidently as before. There was now a weight in your tone, as if holding back. “Yes, that’s them. You— you will kill them once you find them?”

Guard Two laughed, though it was bone chilling. There wasn’t a hint of warmth in it, only distaste and rage. “Of course. They’re to be hanged for their crimes. They are savages.”

He took a step closer to you, leaning down to your level. His aura was threatening, and you could feel yourself cowering away. “You must tell us where they are at once. We will help you once we have captured them.”

You took a step back, deflating. Everything within you told you that you made a mistake. If you went through with exposing their whereabouts and having them captured, their deaths would be because of you. You would be a murderer.

“I—“ You swallowed, clenching your clammy hands into nervous fists. “I do not know where they’ve gone. I ran away as soon as I could.”

“Not a problem,” Guard One gruffed, taking hold of your arm, just as Soap had done before. Now, more than ever, a part of you wished it was Soap rather than the guard. “You will guide us to their ship.”

“Please let go of me,” you murmured brokenly, covering the guard’s hand with your own to pry his fingers off. They didn’t budge. “Please.”

Your pleas were shadowed by their greed. You recognized the look in their eyes, and it scared you to the bone.

Bloodthirst. They were hungry to capture the pirates, hungry to be the ones to guide them to their impending death. It was not about helping you. It was about the handsome reward they would receive for turning in the most wanted criminals of the sea.

You began to panic. The air in your lungs felt weak, and you could feel the world around you closing in.

This was not the outcome you wanted. You simply wanted your freedom, yet it would come with a cost that you weren’t sure you could afford.

You did the only thing you could think of doing. Your fist collided with the guard’s face with a nasty crunch, causing blood to spew from his nose like a spout. It speckled on your dirty cheeks, tainting them further.

The guard let out a shout, releasing your arm. When his companion attempted to make a grab for you, you bolted, legs carrying you back to the shop Soap had been left in.

Chaos ensued from behind you. You could hear the clamber of guards, racing after you, yelling profanities in the air. The townsfolk stopped to observe, women placing their hands over their mouths in bewilderment, men torn between watching or intervening.

It was a commotion you never planned on starting, and now, all eyes were on you.

Soap came into sight from in front of the store. He looked focused and angry, eyebrows pulled together, jaw set taut. When he locked in on you as well as the guards behind you, there was no relief. His eyes were as intense as the guards had been, if not more.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” you sobbed pathetically, but he gave you no chance to pause your running.

Soap grabbed your hand in his, lugging you along the dirt paths. He swerved the streets, pulling your arm harder every time you fell behind. You struggled to keep up, spots of blood dotting the ground beneath you from the newly open wounds from pebbles that sliced open the soles of your feet.

You were pulled into a narrow alleyway with Soap, out of sight from the guards. Soap’s large hand shoved your head, urging you to crouch down behind a row of barrels that crowded the alley.

Your heart was nearly lurching out of your chest from your hiding space. Pounding footsteps raced past the alley, a cloud of dust filling the air and burning your nose. Voices could be heard shouting nearby, but not close enough for you to make out what they were saying.

Soap and you stayed put, his hand muffling your mouth, body smothering yours. He held his breath, ears listening in for the guards.

After what felt like an eternity, the footsteps grew farther away, voices fading into the wind.

“I trusted ye to stay put, dove,” Soap whispered, voice full of anger and betrayal. “I’ve been nice to ye. Why couldn’t ye just stay like I told ye?”

You whimpered into his hand, low and depressing. You felt defeated. Your fate was undetermined more than ever before, and you feared what the pirates would truly do to you now that you went against their word.

“C’mon,” he huffed, letting go of you and standing from behind the barrels. He grabbed hold of your arm, hauling you up and keeping you in his grip.

Soap crept the two of you through the town, slipping through every crack in the buildings to remain unseen. If people saw you, they remained silent, fearful of the pirate amidst their town.

The closer the two of you got to the ship, the more your heart sunk to your stomach. You were wracked with terror, horrified of the punishment you’d endure. The only thing you could do is let Soap string you along like a puppy on a leash.

“We need to go,” Soap barked at Price. The other men had long returned from their shopping, only awaiting your arrival with Soap. “Now.”

Gaz fluttered away without question, preparing to undock the ship and leave no trail in the town behind. Price and Ghost, on the other hand, were far more concerned.

“What the hell happened?” Ghost asked, voice gruff and dark, eyes narrowed on you.

“Dove tried rattin’ us out,” Soap hissed, throwing a glare your way. You shrunk in his hold, avoiding his eyes and bowing your head low. “Guards are lookin’ high and low. They know we’re here.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Ghost grunted, leaving the three of you to aid Gaz in prepping the ship for sail. He walked with a looming shadow over him, black and scary, oozing out the mist of pure acrimony.

Price stood tall and terrifying, arms crossed over his chest, the lines of his face firm and tight. He stared at you with a guise of disappointment and resentment, and if looks could kill, you would surely be one of their many victims.

The Captain took a step towards you, leaning down to your height. His hand grabbed hold of your face, fingers digging into your flesh as he forced you to look at him. His eyes were glaring, stabbing you with millions of daggers.

He shifted your head from side to side, inspecting the specks of blood that dotted your face. He was silent, making everything much more unnerving, and when he let go of you, he spared you not another glance.

“Take her to the cell,” Price ordered Soap. “We’ll deal with it later.”

Soap nodded grimly, tugging your arm aggressively so he could guide you to the brig doors. The sight of them made you sick, and you fought in his hold, which did nothing but make you look like a fool.

“Stop squirmin’,” he hissed, irritated. Seeing him without his signature smile made your chest fill with sickening guilt, and it twisted your insides in a painful knot.

The cell welcomed you when you stepped down familiar stairs. It was a slap in the face, seeing it once again, and you wanted nothing more than to take back everything you’d done and apologize to Price until he let you back into the comfort of his quarters.

But there was no going back. The deed was done. This was your price for freedom, and before it was handed to you, it had been snatched right out of your hands.

Soap shoved you into the cell with enough force to ensure you went inside, but gentle enough to make sure you didn’t topple over. Even now, when you’d betrayed his trust, he didn’t aim to hurt you. The pill was suffocating to swallow.

The cell shutting behind you rattled through your ears like a deafening shriek. The lock clicked, and Soap made no effort to move, not yet. Instead, he stood there, eyes boring into you through the bars of your cage.

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out. So, you stood shamefully, staring at the floor beneath your aching feet.

Something clattered on the floor, and when you shifted your gaze to find it, what stared back at you was a pair of shoes. New, unworn, and pretty. For you.

Looking up at Soap, his expression was unreadable. He no longer looked at you. He seemed just ashamed as you did. It was as if all the anger he had before had diminished, and he now looked like a hurt boy, betrayed and ridiculed.

“I hope they fit,” he said quietly. While you stared at him, he was now the one avoiding looking at you. “Didn’t know what ye liked.”

Soap turned on his heel, trudging up the stairs with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He made no effort to look back at you, to study your stunned expression. Instead, what greeted you was his back as it filtered through the brig doors, shutting behind him with a loud slam.

You looked back at the shoes, careful when you picked them up. They were bland in taste, yet the prettiest thing you’d been gifted in your life.

Soap trusted you to stay while he went to surprise you with a new pair of shoes, and you had only gone behind his back out of fear of his pirate crew that had taken you from your home.

You felt no better than a pirate.

[shhhsecretsideblog]

Would love for you to work your magic on this prompt 💜 @shhhsecretsideblog

Heavily pregnant and overdue, she’s been waiting in line for over an hour to meet her favorite author. Unfortunately, the baby’s decided to arrive now. If she could just make it a little longer, she could ask her all of her burning questions about her novel and tell her how appreciative she is of her work!

(birth denial, inconvenient birth, public labor)

What an amazing prompt, your ideas never fail to inspire me!! Thanks my lovely for the ask, really hope you like it 💜

[fpreg, 2500 words]

Dedicated Book Worm

The contractions had started on the bus ride into town, but she ignored them. A few twinges was nothing to worry about, certainly not today; today Ricki was going to the release and book signing of her favourite author’s latest novel. Her stomach was bubbling with excitement and nerves. She'd been a fan of this writer for years now but had never had the opportunity to get anything signed before, let alone meet the writer in person.

Unsurprisingly it was a very popular event at the bookstore and the queue was already pouring out the doors and lacing down the street. She was glad to have gotten here so early, with only a few dozen people in front of her. The downside of arriving so early meant having to wait in line, which wasn’t so great when you were over 40 weeks pregnant.

Ricki rubbed the taut skin of her stretched belly and exhaled a long quiet breath. The cramping had started to ramp up on the bus journey and she tried to dismiss them, but after standing outside for the best part of an hour she was slowly realising these pains were the real deal - consistent and definitely getting stronger. She debated texting her partner, to tell her she was having contractions, but then she’d have to leave this event. Looking longingly through the glass window of the bookstore and seeing the rows of chairs all set up for the author’s reading of the new book, Ricki nodded to herself, determined. She would stay. She had time to get her copy of the new book, listen to her favourite author, and get it signed before she’d have to tell her girlfriend about the baby’s expected arrival. Labour took ages, and this baby certainly hadn’t been in any hurry to be born.

The line was slow-moving when they started letting people in, everyone inching forward every few minutes. As her large belly regularly tightened, Ricki found herself holding it and swaying slightly as she waited eagerly in the queue, thinking about what she might say when she met the famous writer. Her stomach flipped with nerves but then spasmed aggressively, resulting in a soft moan slipping out her mouth as she exhaled. The person in front gave her a worried look after clocking the large and low baby bump hanging off Ricki’s hips. “This little one is just as excited as I am to get a copy of the new book.” Ricki tried to joke and reassure the concerned looks she was getting. But her mind couldn’t help noticing just how frequently her belly was cramping.

All this standing around had put a serious strain on her back, but there was something else, something new; a weighted pressure sitting deeper in her pelvis. Maybe the baby had finally got in the right position. It would be about bloody time, but they wouldn’t be ruining this afternoon for her, Ricki thought to herself.

Eventually she got to the front of the line and presented her ticket for the event. Ricki would be glad to sit down, her back was killing her and the constant cramping of her heavy belly was draining all her energy. “Wow, you look ready to pop.” The bookshop employee said, scanning her ticket and letting the heavily pregnant woman into the cordoned off area. Ricki managed a half-hearted smile, trying to keep her face from showing any signs of discomfort.

Despite the need to sit down, the weight and pressure between her hips was squashing her bladder and Ricki made a beeline to the toilets before the reading started. Thankfully the single unisex toilet was vacant and she disappeared inside. She used the privacy to let out the pained groans she’d been holding in for the last hour, as her belly contracted yet again. “Mnnnnghhhh…. Oh why now…” Ricki moaned, palming the walls of the bathroom and shifting her hips around in large circles. “You can wait a little bit longer. You were quite comfy in there last week on your due date.”

When the contraction faded she used the facilities, noticing quite a bit more liquid leaking into her pad, and hoped that wasn’t the start of her waters breaking. Standing up from the toilet seat Ricki felt the weight quite literally drop back down in her pelvis, the head of the baby wedged harshly against her dilating cervix. “Ooof!—” she clasped her bump, taking a moment to get used to the heavy feeling and the pressure that it brought.

The hustle and bustle of the bookstore was getting louder, the sounds of excited people entering the event seeping through the bathroom door. “Come on bubs, let’s go hear all about the new book.” Ricki said to her bump before leaving the bathroom and going back into the store.

Unfortunately for Ricki the contractions were still coming and getting closer and closer, now almost impossible to stay standing. After waiting in another line to collect her copy of the latest book she had to grasp onto the counter and swallow down the grunt she so desperately wanted to make.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” The girl behind the desk asked, panicked.

“Mmm-hmm.” Ricki gritted and nodded her head, pulling her lips into a forced smile. “Just a c-cramp.”

She needed to sit down, and fast. The labouring woman took the first empty chair she could find in the back row and sighed a heavy breath of relief. She would be okay. She just needed to rest, yes, that was it. Her excitement was heightening everything, that’s all. Holding her copy of the new book in one hand, she rubbed her swollen stomach with the other and prayed the pains would slow down enough to enjoy this event.

Typically there was a delay in the start time, the author had only just arrived and it would be a bit longer before the event could begin. Ricki was sweating by this point, squirming in her seat and trying to keep an even and subtle breathing rhythm. The pressure in her pelvis had suddenly built to astronomical heights and she found herself rocking and quietly humming on the chair. Her hands gripped the edges of the seat, knuckles turning white, as the waves got stronger and stronger. She tried not to clasp her bump so as not to attract unwanted attention, but god did it hurt. The contracting muscles contorting the shape of her pregnant belly was almost visible through her clothing.

She was wearing a pair of wide legged dungarees patterned with sunflowers, a thin black cotton t shirt underneath. Even through the denim like fabric Ricki could see as well as feel the way the whole sphere of her belly hardened, squishing into a solid and narrow torpedo shape over her thighs. “Ooohhhhhhh….” She used the book to fan her damp and sweaty face, no doubt looking flushed in the bookstore, which was already getting steadily warmer as more and more people filled in.

Eventually the host took to the stage and introduced the special guest and Ricki’s eyes widened with glee at seeing her long time favourite author in person, standing only a few metres away. Her belly seized again in that moment, bringing forth a wave of pressure deep between her hips, and she couldn’t stop the groan from escaping her lips. Thankfully her labouring sounds were swallowed by the loud round of applause. Without thought, and focussed entirely on the beloved person at the front of the crowd, Ricki’s legs widened automatically on her chair. Unconsciously finding any way to relieve the building pressure.

Then, the room was silent, the writer stood centre stage with an open copy of her latest book. Ricki was going to hear a new extract, read aloud by the glorious female writer herself, and she waited like everyone else with bated breath.

As the reading began the heavily pregnant woman tried to focus, tried to give this once in a lifetime fangirl moment her undivided attention, but the pressure was getting unbearable. Every few seconds Ricki’s mind was pulled back to the baby in her womb, the feeling of the hard skull sinking deeper into her birth canal, her baby determined to be born today. She panted, as quietly as she could. The thought of attracting unwanted attention right now was mortifying, if anyone discovered she was in labour— No, she was not going to let anyone see her struggle, or give any reason to stop this talk and pull focus from the rightful star.

She lasted about 15 minutes into the reading before it happened, something instinctual and primal tripped a warning siren in her mind. The pressure, it had built too much and now… oh god, now she needed to push. She really needed to push.

It was automatic, she had no control. Ricki’s body slumped slightly in her chair and gripping her book tightly with both hands her uterus contracted and squeezed and…pushed the baby further down. Oh fuck. Her legs were wide on the chair, encroaching into the space of her neighbours. But she couldn’t close them. It felt like she was sitting on the baby’s head. Trapped in another bout of pushing Ricki sucked in a lung full of air and bore down once more. Silently as she could.

The labouring mother lost all track of what the author was saying or reading. Occasionally she’d hear the audience laugh or “awww”, and she was missing everything. All that she could focus on was not giving birth right here in the bookstore. She could make it. She had to. Her girlfriend wasn’t here, and her book hadn’t been signed. She had to make it just a little bit longer.

With every ounce of determination she could muster, Ricky shifted herself upright and painfully pulled her legs together. God it felt like she was sitting on a bowling ball. A whimper slipped from her throat and her eyes screwed shut. The person beside her gave Ricki a concerned look. The labouring woman gritted her teeth and forced a friendly grin.

The reading eventually came to a conclusion, Ricki having succumbed to another half a dozen pushes in that time, but any progress was halted by her posture on the chair and the unforgiving fabric of her dungarees. The owners of the bookstore advised everyone to start making an orderly queue to get their books signed, gesturing to a table and lines of rope set up nearby. Ricki was so close, so close to meeting her idol. Unfortunately the baby was keen to join in.

As she stood the boulder in her pelvis pressed fiercely against the walls of her birth canal and Ricki had to grasp the chair in front of her and instinctively bear down. Oh fuck… she wasn’t going to make it. Her primal grunt wasn’t noticed through the sounds of chairs scratching the floor and numerous conversations erupting around the room. The baby was so low, dangerously low. Feeling like it was sitting just behind her lips, bulging obscenely into her wide-leg trousers.

The crowd around her moved as one, all the guests making their way to the line for autographs. She should have said something, should have excused herself, the baby was quite literally trying to come out right here in the bookstore. Instead, Ricki got caught in the sea of people and somehow ended up in line and surrounded by excited people waiting for autographs.

Just a little bit longer bubs… please. She pleaded with the swell of her belly cradled in her palms. Sweat was dripping down her neck beneath her long hair, her black t-shirt sodden with the exhaustion of her labour. How Ricki managed to stay standing she did not know. Oddly the pain in her hips was easier to manage when upright but gravity was making the pressure unbearable. Whenever a contraction hit she was forced to give in, to bear down with the squeezing muscles, knees bendy subtly and her mouth clamping shut.

They were productive pushes… she was sure of that fact. The baby’s head was slowly but surely spreading her open, her gait unnaturally wide as the baby inched further into the world while she stood and waited in line. Oh god, just— just wait.

This queue moved faster than the one before and Ricki was shuffled forward every few seconds. The author was there, within metres, hair perfectly curled and wearing a flawless outfit. The mum-to-be looked around nervously, realising how stuck in the crowd she had gotten - the only clear way out was forward. Two people, there were just two people in front of her. She had to meet her idol, she couldn’t walk away now, not when she was this close.

Maybe she could time her pushes, was there enough time between them to say Hi, big fan, please sign my book before she had to push again? One person in front now. So close.

Another contraction, oh fuck, and Ricki widened her legs slightly, bending knees ever so subtly and bearing down. The crown in her underwear was getting bigger. It burnt, bringing tears to her eyes. The head was coming out!

“It’s an emotional time isn’t it? Meeting someone you’ve admired for so long.” The person next to her said, bouncing on their toes and excitedly watching the writer sign another book. Ricki couldn’t reply, couldn’t even nod, as her body fully committed to pushing out her baby and bringing it almost to a full crown.

Next. Ricki was next in line. Fuck, what was she gonna do? Before she could form any cohesive thought someone was ushering her forwards towards the desk, towards the friendly smiling face of her idol. The woman’s hand stretched out, ready to take Ricki’s copy of the book to sign.

“Who shall I make it out to?” The author asked kindly, despite having said it numerous times over.

“R-Ricki… w-with an ‘i’…. Oooohhhh….” She stuttered, trying to hold back the groan. Her hands were clasped beneath her contracting belly, every muscle tense and trembling as she fought to hold herself together.

“Are you alright my dear?” The writer asked, staring too long at Ricki’s swollen stomach and the way her fingers were gripped at the fabric of her clothing, knuckles thin and white.

“….no…..” Ricki admitted. “Ooooohhhhh….” The next wave of pressure suddenly hit her like a steam train and any previous plans shot straight out the window. She had to push…. She had to bear down right now…. this second. The burning, the stretching, it was all too much, she had to get this baby out—

“Mmmnnghhhhh!!!!!!!” Grabbing the edge of the desk Ricki bent her knees and dipped her hips as she pushed ferociously, bringing the baby beyond a crown, shoving it past her lips and almost birthing the head in one go.

“Oh my goodness, you poor dear. Someone call an ambulance! This woman is giving birth.” The author said, jumping to her feet and rushing around the desk. “What are you doing here in your condition?” The kind words were accompanied by the writer rubbing her back and holding her hand.

“I just— I just really wanted to meet y-you.”

[jymwahuwu]

Wrote some!! This is the second part of the abo story, you meet your two future Alpha husbands😽😽

part 1

cw: dystopian au, forced breeding policy

You borrow some credit from a friend and save it to a temporary payment card for daily payments. Now your bank account has been frozen by the government - for the hilariously unbelievable reason of not being pregnant beyond the appropriate reproductive age.

You don’t really want to get married, and you’ve criticized and complained about this weird policy on social media in the past. Now you are faced with this situation… There aren’t many options here, and you have to consider marriage and having children. You have no doubt that this government will really force you to be sent to a breeding facility.

News channels have reported that Omega and Beta citizens who repeatedly ignored warnings were sent to breeding facilities and stuck on the wall to wait for thorough breeding and pregnancy. Those citizens who emphasized "reproductive freedom" had their mouths gagged and their hands tied behind their backs. They whimpered and struggled to be stimulated and expanded by dildos, and finally broke and apologized in the water pool.

You-you don’t want to experience…

Before heading out, you circled in front of the mirror and checked your clothes. The two Alphas made an appointment with you to meet and talk in a restaurant. Even though you're dating two people right now, you've only chatted with one of them on the site. He said that the other Alpha believed that marriage and dating had to be discussed in real person. He has a point too. You agreed.

You board a spaceship (no physical currency is required this time, so you breathe a sigh of relief), and check the planned route on the map app to note which station you want to get off the spaceship at. Cheap ships have their downsides. That means the time it takes to travel is doubled, and the number of stations passed is doubled. Tired and shaken along the way, you fell asleep on the spacecraft and finally reached your destination.

After searching for a few minutes, you looked up and were shocked by the decoration of the restaurant. The elegant and luxurious restaurant decoration uses black and purple as the main tone. A foreign song is faintly passed in the air, exuding a quiet and comfortable atmosphere. The Milky Way can be observed in real time outside the window. The sofas and seats for guests are spaced apart and organized. This is very different from the ordinary restaurants you usually go to. Embarrassed, you flipped through the electronic menu in front of the door, wondering if there would be a discount on takeout, and wanted to send a message to them to tell them that they made an appointment at the wrong restaurant. Alas…how are you going to pay for it now…

"Hello, do you have an appointment?" The waiter at the door was filled with a friendly smile. You just feel more pressure. "W-wait, I'll send a message to my friend."

You: I'm here, but wait, is this here? Did I go to the wrong place? 🥹

You: [Restaurant link in the food app]

Aventurine: No, that's right^^ We're already here.

You: okay

As soon as you enter the restaurant, a bouquet of flowers is blocked from view in front of you, the fragrance is overflowing, and the delicate petals are condensed with bright colors and vitality. What's this? You took a step back in fear. A head with blond hair poked out from behind the flowers, with dazzling bright eyes. "Hello, this is a wedding gift." He explained with a smile.

Wedding gift? You were so frightened that your hands trembled, holding a large bouquet of flowers. The flowers are so crowded that they must be leaned on your shoulders.

"Hmm…? Just kidding. This is an engagement gift."

You paused after hearing his explanation. You are not engaged, or even agreed to be engaged to these two Alphas. This must be Aventurine. He was just as flirtatious and cheerful as he sounded on the Internet, sitting down and placing the bouquet in your hand back in its place. Sitting next to him was a man with a frown. "I've had enough of your peacocking. It's so grandiose."

"Ah, of course the more expensive the gift, the better. Everyone's feelings can be reflected in it, right?"

"Hello, I'm Veritas Ratio." He crossed his arms in front of his chest and nodded to you.

[midnightdahlias]

Lone Wolf

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summery - Bobby calls you when two hunters seem to need a rescue word count - 2.8k cws - gn!reader, kinda fluff (ig), typical supernatural hunt violence, mentions of weapons, mild language, mentions of injury, lmk if i missed anything a/n - the amount of times i've rewritten this fic-, i do hope you like it though, and as always rebloggs and comments are appreciated. happy reading !

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Driving was the calm between the chaos.

For hunters like you, it was the only time life didn’t feel like one giant nightmare. No claws, no teeth, no windows to get thrown through. Just the hum of the engine, the occasional song on the radio, and miles of open road.

Being a solo hunter? Even better. No one to babysit, no one to lose. It was just you and your thoughts. Peaceful.

...Well. Mostly.

Because, let’s face it, solitude had its downsides. You weren’t a robot. Sometimes, you wanted someone to talk to who wasn’t a bartender or Bobby Singer on the other end of the line. But people were a luxury you couldn’t afford—not when you knew what this life would do to them. You’d already learned that lesson the hard way, thank you very much.

But somedays you’d find yourself working with others, and today was one of those days.

“Hey, Bobby, got a case for me?” you asked, cradling the phone against your shoulder while you tightened the strap on your duffel bag.

“Not a case so much as a rescue mission,” Bobby said, and you could practically hear the grimace in his voice.

“Rescue?”

“Couple of knuckleheads went dark in Chicago. I sent ’em a case, and now I can’t get ahold of ’em. Might be nothin’, but…”

“Better safe than sorry,” you finished for him.

“Exactly.” He sighed, and you could hear the faint clink of a whiskey glass on his end.

“Why me? Don’t tell me I’m your only option.”

“You’re the best shot I’ve got, and you know it,” Bobby said gruffly. “Now, are you gonna help or stand there flappin’ your gums?”

You chuckled. “Yeah, I’m on it. Send me the details.”

The drive to Chicago was quiet, a welcome break from the chaos that usually followed you around. It gave you time to think: about Bobby’s call, about the hunters who’d gone dark, and about how you were the one he trusted to find them. You didn’t mind the weight of that responsibility. If they were still alive, you’d get them out. If not… you’d make sure the job was done. Either way, it was your mess to clean up.

Your first stop was the police station, where the missing hunters were last seen.

Flashing your fake FBI badge, you approached the front desk. “Couple of angets were here investigating some strange deaths. I’m their superior. Mind telling me what they found?”

The officer barely looked up. “You’ll want Detective Hayes. Down the hall.”

Hayes didn’t waste time. “They were looking into some deaths. Real messy ones. Claw marks, missing hearts, looks like a wild animal got to them. Weirdest damn thing.”

Missing hearts. Yep. Definitely your kinda thing.

He handed you the case file. You didn’t miss the way he watched you, like he was waiting for you to explain it all away. Instead, you nodded, thanked him, and left. The morgue confirmed what you already knew—this wasn’t some rogue animal. This was werewolves.

The victims were last seen at a seedy little bar on the edge of town. Sounded like your next stop.

The bar smelled like beer and poor life choices. You grabbed a seat at the far end, where you could see the whole room without sticking out too much. Years of hunting had taught you to trust your instincts, and right now, they were screaming something’s off.

Hours passed without incident. You were just about to call it a night when a hooded figure walked in, immediately drawing your attention. He moved with purpose, scanning the crowd before slipping a small envelope to a woman sitting alone, and walked out without a word.

Because that’s definitely not suspicious at all.

The woman opened the envelope, scanned its contents, then locked eyes with you.

You froze and your pulse quickening. Was it obvious you were watching her? Maybe. Did she seem like the type to care? Also maybe.

Just when you thought she might try and approach you or something, she stood and left without a word.

Again definitely not suspicious…

You waited a beat, and against every bit of common sense you had, you followed her out into the night.

You knew fully well that this could be a trap, but you also knew that this might be the only chance you’d get. You tailed her car at a cautious distance until she turned into an alleyway. Parking just past it, you got out and crept closer on foot.

The alley was dark and silent, save for the faint hum of a streetlamp. You kept your distance as she climbed out of her car, a sleek white sedan.

That’s when you saw it. A black ‘67 Chevrolet Impala parked behind her car.

Your heart stopped. No. Fucking. Way.

Everyone in the hunting community knew that car. It belonged to the Winchester brothers and if it was here, so were they.

Heart pounding, you crept closer to what looked to be an old theater near the alley. The door was left slightly ajar. Definitely a trap, but again what choices did you have other than to follow.

Knife in hand, you slipped inside.

The old theater was in disrepair. Dust covered the seats, and the air smelled of mildew. Yet the stage area seemed oddly intact, as though it were still in use. Before you could explore further, a low growl stopped you in your tracks.

Out of the shadows stepped a werewolf, its eyes glowing an unnatural yellow. You barely had time to react as it lunged at you.

“Of course,” you muttered, diving to the side. Your silver knife caught its flank, but the thing was fast. Claws swiped, catching your arm, but you kept moving, twisting the blade into its chest until it dropped.

Before you could catch your breath, a second growl echoed through the room.

“Oh, come on,” you groaned.

The woman from the bar stepped into the dim light, her face twisted, fangs bared.

“I knew you’d be trouble. You just had to poke your nose where it didn’t belong” she snarled, lunging at you.

You fought with everything you had. Her speed and strength outmatched the first werewolf by a mile. Claw marks tore through your jacket, and pain flared in your ribs, but you pressed on, besides you’d been through worse. Finally, a lucky strike drove your blade into her heart with every ounce of frustration you’d built up in the last 24 hours.. She crumpled to the floor, lifeless.

Panting, you staggered to your feet, surveying the room as you did so and spotted a faint light coming from backstage. You followed it and found the Winchesters tied up and unconscious but thankfully alive. Working quickly, you untied Sam, and began your attempts at waking the younger of the two brothers up.

“Come on Sam, wake up!” you whispered-yelled, shaking him furiously. His eyes fluttered open, and he blinked at you in confusion.

“Who—”

“Hunter. Bobby sent me. We can swap stories later.”

Before you could untie Dean, another werewolf burst through the door.

“Son of a—” you curesed under your breath, turning back to Sam “You handle your brother. I’ll handle him.”

The fight was grueling. This werewolf was stronger and faster than the others. It pressed you relentlessly, forcing you to dodge and counter with every ounce of skill you had. At one point, it pinned you, its jaws snapping inches from your face. Desperately, you reached for your knife, plunging it into its side. The creature howled in pain but didn’t relent.

You tried to reach for your blade again, but the creature had beat you to it and thrown it far out of your reach.

Just when you thought you were screwed, a gunshot rang out. The werewolf collapsed right on top of you.

‘’Ugh, seriously’’ you muttered, annoyed, even though someone had just saved your life.

You pushed away the werewolf, revealing Dean Winchester, awake and armed, smirking like he’d just saved the day.

“I had him,” you panted, brushing dust from your jacket.

Dean grinned, holstering his gun. “I think you mean, thank you.”

You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t suppress a smile. “I didn’t need saving, but appreciate it anyway.”

You sat up, your body aching more now that the adrenaline was wearing off. Your hands were shaking, but you steadied them, trying not to show how badly you hurt.

You glanced over at Sam, who had just come into the room, taking in the full scene in front of him, his gaze flicking from you to the wolves you had ganked before even getting to the boys. "Did you—?"

You nodded, your muscles protesting as you stood. The reality of your injuries hit you all at once—scrapes, bruises, and a deep ache in your ribs. It wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle, but the exhaustion was creeping in. You’d deal with it later, when you had the space to breathe.

"Yeah, well, Bobby sent me to save your asses," you joked, trying to lighten the mood. "Would’ve been pretty embarrassing if I’d gotten myself ganked in the process.”

Sam didn’t laugh. His gaze was fixed on you, scanning your face, the bloodied scratches on your arm. He was looking at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

"You’re hurt," Sam murmured, his voice softer than you expected.

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, brushing him off with a wave. “Just a few scratches. Nothing I can’t handle.”

But Sam didn’t look convinced. His jaw clenched, and he took a step toward you. “You sure about that?”

You laughed, a little too sharply. "Mhm. Besides, you should be worried about yourself. Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

You were used to being the tough one, the one who didn’t show weakness. But there was something about the way Sam was looking at you, his eyes filled with concern, that made it harder to pretend you were unaffected. It was sweet, but you weren't ready to let him in on just how much it affected you.

He didn’t answer, just kept looking at you like he was seeing you for the first time. Your heart fluttered, but you shook it off. “Seriously. I’m fine,” you said gently. “We should get out of here. Let Bobby know you two are alright.”

He didn’t answer, just kept looking at you like he was seeing you for the first time. Your heart fluttered, but you shook it off. “Seriously. I’m fine,” you said gently. “We should get out of here. Let Bobby know you two are alright.”

“Wait! I didn’t get your name,” he called out.

You smirked, turning to face him. “That’s because I didn’t give it.”

Sam frowned, but there was a playful glint in his eyes. “Guess I’ll just have to track you down next time.”

“Good luck with that,” you teased, climbing into your car.

As you drove away, the open road stretched ahead of you, peaceful as ever. But this time, you couldn’t shake the thought of a certain tall, hazel-eyed hunter. Maybe working alone wasn’t as perfect as you’d always believed. And as much as you hated to admit it, the idea of a little chaos... didn’t seem so bad.

The hum of the engine mixed with the music on the radio filled the car as you drove into the night, your mind still running a few steps behind, tangled in thoughts of Sam, of Dean, and what came next.

You couldn't help but wonder—was this the last time you'd cross paths with the Winchesters? Somehow, you doubted it.

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masterlist

[indigochromatic]

Some Basic Advice About EMDR for Systems

(drawing on our own experiences, reading about it, and comparing notes with our therapist)

This is mainly aimed at systems who are considering doing EMDR or planning on it, but want to know what the process is like and what to look out for, with some personal experiences sprinkled in.

Under the cut, because I talk a lot:

General Concept

I think the big picture in our experience is that EMDR is/was like…an intensifier for the kind of headspace/internal system interaction processing work that a lot of systems do naturally, at least a little, especially if they have decent internal communication. This has both upsides and downsides/areas to be cautious about.

A lot of EMDR pre-work (often called “resourcing”) is about making sure you have a good toolbox of “mental tricks/techniques” to be able to handle unexpected intense emotions, feelings, and/or imagery etc that often comes up when you get into trying to work with traumatic stuff. This is in my opinion very important, and something your therapist should take at least a few sessions to talk with you about even if you already have good tools for it already, just to make sure they know your strategies and you’re all on the same page. Also super common and normal to spend some time developing extra ones if needed—stuff like “the box” for temporarily containing crisis emotions when needed, having a mental “safe space” that you can come back to, etc. Also, EMDR specifically tends to often be a little rigid/scripted in the types of visualizations and metaphors you’re “supposed” to use, but in my opinion a good therapist should be flexible enough to adapt to equivalent images/techniques you may already have (like, “imagine you’re viewing the traumatic memory on a movie screen, or out the window of a train going through a tunnel” is a common instruction; if, say, your headspace has a lot of fantasy elements and it makes more internal sense to be viewing the memory via…scrying in a dish or something, your therapist should be down with you doing that instead, if you want to).

As for the sessions themselves, a big thing we don’t hear articulated a lot is that, in our experience  and that of some other folks we know, EMDR has a tendency of being…like, sneakily intense: It doesn’t necessarily hit you all at once in the session, which may just feel like “ok, that was Some Therapy Work but I’m chill”, but then over the rest of the day and maybe even the next few days, it’s not uncommon to keep feeling a lot of emotional intensity/vulnerability, having more intense “internal conversations and/or realizations”, etc. For this reason, EMDR is generally supposed to start with a very mild memory-to-process, like 4-5 out of 10 max.

Notes of Caution and Stuff to Keep In Mind

Especially for folks who already heavily dissociate from emotional trauma, it’s super easy to think you’re “going too easy” only to find that the memory has a lot more emotional baggage than you realized—really go easy on yourself when you start, EMDR is like psychology power tools and you absolutely can hurt yourself. (We’ve heard from plenty of systems who had bad therapists who did not adequately support them in doing EMDR, and absolutely fucked them over by starting too big and retraumatizing the hell out of them— this isn’t meant as fear-mongering, especially if you really like and trust your therapist, but just genuine “hey, EMDR can be very volatile stuff, which is part of why it can be so helpful, but also means that it’s important to not skip out on the safety precautions and self-care”.) What this means in practice is often stuff like: (our recommendations at least) - trying to schedule breaks/easy days immediately after - possibly getting someone to drive you home, especially if you know you’re going after a Big Thing, because the dissociation hangover immediately after can be pretty real - start with a memory that feels "too easy", and scale up if a week later it still felt trivial/like you’re fully over it, because it’s way easier to ramp up than try to do damage control.

Our personal experience, in tl:dr form, was that it felt like the core of the technique was really useful for us, and mirrored some of the most useful instances of self-processing we’d had before while also kind of serving as a “shortcut” to it—but, it was pretty intense and we didn’t really like/fit well with the therapists who we were working with at the time, which is why we stopped (didn’t want to keep doing an emotionally intense thing with folks we didn’t trust).

Finally, a bit about EMDR and "maybe I'm plural but I'm not sure, and/or may not have great in-system communication": yeah, this is a case to be especially slow and careful, for all the aforementioned reasons; what my instinct/recommendation would be in those cases is to: 1) make sure you learn a lot of resourcing techniques 2) try to check in with yourself(s) frequently and with compassion/intent-to-collaborate, "ask the inside of your head how it's feeling" and even if you're not sure whether the "reply" was just your own thoughts or a headmate, listen and try to engage with/respect those responses and emotions 3) if you start getting warning signs/back-off signals/sudden intense feelings, listen to them and lighten up, pause the session if you need to, do some self care etc, even (especially) if you don't know why you felt that way and it seems 'odd/random', and really you're super curious about what's going on and just want to figure it out. Like...you and the inside of your head and/or other system members are trying to navigate a complicated D&D maze together, in the dark, and you each only have part of the map--so you have to work together and trust each other, especially listening to warning signals even when your "part of the map" doesn't show anything to worry about there. And the more you work together and trust each other, the better everything gets, including therapy work.

When it's "Death By A Thousand Papercuts"-type Trauma Instead

If you're not sure where to start because there aren't a lot of obvious "Big Bad Memories" that feel like they adequately explain the issues you're having, some recommendations:

-> First, note that "no Big Bad Memories are immediately coming to mind, idk" is super common in systems and also in CPTSD, way more than I think most folks realize, so know that you're not alone and also that it doesn't mean you don't necessarily have stuff deserving of help and support.

-> So yeah, there's kinda two things imo you can try. The first is, if your therapist is on the more flexible side, you can try doing EMDR with either "this specific memory wasn't too bad, but it's representative of an ongoing pattern or theme that wasn't great" (say, loneliness at school or something, and you pick a specific lunchtime memory, which wasn't really That Bad in the moment, but you were kinda sad and/or upset about it and it feels representative of the overall trend you're trying to process/heal). Or you can try just doing the EMDR process on the theme itself, at the abstract level, and see what comes up--again, I'd really recommend starting with a much lower-stakes issue/theme than you think you need, just because it's really easy to underestimate, especially for systems and other folks whose brains dissociate a lot. (And especially if you know your system has episodic amnesia--e.g. event-amnesia/blackout amnesia--as well as emotional amnesia.)

The second is, there are other "more flexible" types of similar somatic therapy techniques (brainspotting is the name of another one, and there's more I can't think of rn) that might fit better instead-- tldr, totally worth asking your therapist about the whole situation, and asking what they'd feel most qualified for/comfortable with, in my opinion. You don't need to be doing Specifically Exactly EMDR to do somatic trauma therapy, even though EMDR is one of the more well-known modalities for it, and finding a version that feels right and not like you're forcing anything is really valuable (and you're not 'being picky' if it takes a while to find one; you're allowed to want to find one that feels right).

[stephstars08]

Comfort

Johnny Cade x Greaser!Reader

Warnings: Daddy Issues, Abandonment, Alcoholism, Loneliness, Physical Abuse, Some Adult Language, Neglect, Johnny’s Parents Fighting, Disappointment, Fluff, Angst, Bed-sharing, And Possible Grammar Errors. (Sorry If I Forgot Any!)

Summary: Y/N is the little sister of Two-Bit which means they hangout with the same friend group. Y/N is the closest with Johnny. Whenever Johnny has an incident at home he always goes to Y/N since she always knows how to make him feel better.

Song Featured: Can’t Help Falling In Love By Kacey Musgraves

Word Count: 1,459

Author’s Note: I decided to use Kacey Musgraves version of this song since it’s the reader singing the song! Definitely suggest you listen to the song if you haven’t already!

Y/N is a sixteen-year-old girl who lives in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Her family are greasers which means she lives in the low-class part of Tulsa. Y/N lives with mom and older brother Two-Bit who is eighteen. Y/N’s father left when she was only three years old.

Two-Bit thinks the reason why their dad left was because he couldn’t man up and face the pressure of taking care of a family, but Y/N knows the real reason. When Y/N was twelve she found her dad’s old journal and he wrote in the journal that he never wanted any children especially a daughter. When Y/N told her mom about it she told her not to worry or take it personal because when her father wrote that he was drunk, and it was after they had an argument about the financial issues the family were going through at the time.

Two-Bit is the one who has been raising Y/N since their father left. Since their mom works two jobs she’s not home very often. After their father abandoned them Two-Bit became the man of the house. He turned into more of a father figure to Y/N than a big brother.

Y/N and Two-Bit hangout with the same group of friends. Since Y/N is the only girl in the group they are very protective of her. Y/N has a bond with everyone but the person she’s the closest to is a boy named Johnny Cade. Johnny is a shy and quiet sixteen-year-old boy who come from an abusive household. His father is an alcoholic who drinks all day and all night. His father beats on him while his mother just stands back and watches.

It hurts Y/N seeing Johnny with bruises on his skin. Johnny always comes to Y/N after he has a spat with one of his parents. Y/N always knows how to calm and comfort him.

Y/N does have a crush on Johnny, but she doesn’t know how to deal with it since she’s never felt that way about a boy before. Not being able to see or talk to her mom about these feelings does make Y/N feel alone or lost.

The only downside of being the only girl in a friend group is when it comes to girl talk, there is no one to talk to. As much as she loves her big brother, telling him she has a crush on a boy isn’t the easiest thing in the world for a girl.

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It was nighttime and Y/N was sleeping in her twin sized bed when she heard a tapping noise from her window which woke her up. When Y/N slowly opened her eyes, she read her alarm clock. It was twelve after one in the morning.

“Y/N!” She heard a voice say outside her window. “Johnny.” Y/N whispered immediately recognizing the voice. Y/N quickly got out of bed and turned her bedroom light on. She saw Johnny standing outside her window in the rain.

She opened her window and helped Johnny climb into her room. “Johnny, what the hell are you doing out in the rain?” Y/N asked him with concern in her voice as she closed her window. “I was trying to sleep in my room, but my parents were having a screaming match, so I snuck out and went to the lot, but it started to rain, so I decided to just come here.” Johnny explained to her.

This isn’t the first time that Johnny has spent the night due to his parents.

“Aww Johnny! You’re shivering.” Y/N said seeing him shake because his clothes were drenched. “I’ll be right back.” Y/N told him and walked out of her room. She went to the living room and went into the closet. She got a pair of Two-Bit’s old pajama pants he grew out of and one of his old t-shirts he also grew out of. After closing the closet, she went into the bathroom to get a clean and dry towel out of the cabinet. Y/N walked back to her room.

She handed Johnny the towel so he could dry himself off. “After you finish drying off you can change into this. They used to be Two-Bit’s but he grew out of them.” Y/N told him setting the clothes down onto her bed. Johnny gave her a nod as he used the towel to dry off his raven-colored hair. “While you change, I’ll go make you some hot tea.” Y/N told him and walked out of her room again.

She went into the kitchen and started to make some lemon tea. She made sure she was as quiet as possible since she didn’t want to wake up Two-Bit and her mom. It took her about ten minuets to make the tea. Y/N walked back to her room holding a mug in her hands.

When she walked back into her room Johnny was wearing the clothes she gave him while his wet clothes were in a pile on the floor in the corner. He put the towel into Y/N’s hamper. Johnny was sitting on the edge of her bed. Y/N closed her door and walked over to him.

“Here, this should help you warm up, too.” Y/N said carefully handing him the mug. “Thank you.” Johnny said in a soft tone. He blew on the liquid before carefully taking a sip. “You’re welcome.” Y/N said sitting down next to him.

There was a comfortable silence between the two while Johnny drank his tea.

“What were your parents fighting about?” Y/N asked breaking the silence. “I don’t exactly know.” Johnny said with a heavy sigh. “I just know that my dad was drunk off his ass like usual.” Johnny told her and took another sip of his tea.

“Y/N, I really appreciate you letting me stay here.” Johnny said looking over at her. “It’s no problem, Johnnycakes. You’re always welcomed here.” Y/N told him with a comforting smile. Johnny returned the smile. Johnny doesn’t smile often but it seems when he’s with Y/N, that’s when he smiles the most.

After Johnny finished drinking the tea, Y/N and him laid down in her bed ready to go to sleep. “Hey, Y/N.” Johnny said in a soft voice. “What’s up?” Y/N asked him in a curious tone. “Can you sing to me?” Johnny asked her. Everyone knows that Y/N has a beautiful singing voice and when Johnny hears her sing it always calms him and makes him feel relaxed. “Of course.” Y/N told him.

She wrapped one of her arms around his shoulders. Y/N felt her heart skip a beat when she felt Johnny wrap one of his arms around her torso.

“Wise men say, only fools rush in. But I can’t help falling in love with you.” Y/N sang in a soft tone. She decided to sing her favorite love song. “Shall I say? Would it be a sin? If I can’t help falling in love with you.” Y/N sang as she lightly rubbed Johnny’s shoulder. “Like a river flows, surely to the sea, darling so it goes, somethings are meant to be.” Y/N sang the chorus of the song.

She went to sing the rest of the song but stopped when she noticed that Johnny had fallen asleep. Y/N lips turned up into a soft smile. She gave him a light kiss on the forehead. “Good night, Johnnycakes.” Y/N said in a soft voice.

She laid down fully and wrapped both of her arms around his waist. She laid her head on top of Johnny’s chest and fell asleep.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was now morning and Two-Bit decided to get up early to cook breakfast for his mom and Y/N. He knew his mom had to be at her first job at eight, so he made sure that she had time to eat. After she ate, she thanked her son and told him to give Y/N a kiss from her. After his mom left Two-Bit made breakfast for Y/N. He put the food on a plate and sat it down into the table. Two-Bit walked to Y/N’s bedroom.

He used his knuckles to lightly knock on the door. “Hey Y/N I made you some break-” Two-Bit said opening the door but he stopped his sentence when he saw Johnny. They were in the same position they were in when Y/N fell asleep. Two-Bit could help but smile at the sleeping position.

Two-Bit knows that his little sister and Johnny have big crushes on one another. Hell, everyone in the whole group knows that Y/N and Johnny are perfect for one another.

Two-Bit quietly shut the door. He went back to the kitchen and made some more food for Johnny since he always makes sure that Johnny eats after spending the night.

[themculibrary]

Winterhawk (Recent Fics) Masterlist

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That’s it, that’s the fic.

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Every Breath You Take (Scars Edition) (ao3) - Reremouse (TheBelfry), rufferto, wyxan M, 17k

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Shortly after the takedown of Project Insight, Steve turns up at the tower with a quieter Bucky looking for a place to recover himself. It’s a solid plan, at least, until Clint walks right into Bucky, triggers their soul bond, and pretty much tosses Steve’s entire Bucky recovery plan out the window. Bucky is probably not ready to further complicate his life with a soulmate, so Clint does the only decent thing and retreats to his apartment in Bed Stuy. Maybe he should have consulted with Bucky first.

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alt summary - Bucky's a bit of an asshole.

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the road not taken looks real good now (ao3) - haveufoundwhaturlookingfor T, 5k

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25 cents. A ticket.

Triple futz.

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(or, the time Clint Barton went back in time and fell in love with Bucky Barnes all over again)

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Summary: Bucky is starting to adjust to life in Avengers Tower, and reaching out to make new friends.

[garbinge]

Chalk Drawings

Happy Lowman & Juice Ortiz & Platonic!Reader Jax Teller & Teller!Sister Reader Opie Winston x Teller!Sister Reader

Day 22 from these April Prompts: Chalk Drawings

Summary: When Happy and Juice are on protection duty and the AC is broken you and the kids take to the outside to escape the sweaty prison that’s Jax’s house as you wait for your brother and partner to come home. 

Words: 1.9k 

A/N: I’ve been having a rough couple of days so I’m not really sure what this is but, I hope you all enjoy! lol.

Warnings: pretty fluffy (for me and my writing lol), reader has a daughter with Opie (no name given), no use of Y/N, slight angst/tension, alludes to death/murder slightly, nothing that’s not canon-level. 

SOA Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics​

It was a beautiful summer afternoon, the sun was shining, there were fluffy clouds in the sky that were shaped like cotton candy. The only downside was that the California heat had no mercy and apparently neither did Jax’s air conditioner. It had broken early in the morning and by the afternoon the whole place felt like a sauna. Fans and open windows did nothing against the real feel of 93 degrees and there were only so many popsicles you willingly wanted to give to all the kids. This is what brought you outside on the driveway that had been covered by shade all day so it was luckily not burning hot. You had the full Winston x Teller group today, Kenny, Ellie, Abel, and your 3 year old daughter with Opie. The club was in partial lockdown due to business with the Cartel. Partial lockdown usually just meant no one was left alone, everyone who was someone had protection on them, which meant it was easier for people to stay in groups. Hence why you had all the kids right now. Gemma was out with Tara grocery shopping for the house and had taken Tig with them just to keep a close eye. This left you with Juice and Happy while Jax and Opie went on a run together with a few of the other guys. 

The sprinkler was going on the grass, something for the kids to run through if they got too hot, but currently the group of them were on the driveway drawing with chalk. Abel and Kenny had paired up leaving your daughter to rest in between your legs with a piece of chalk in her hands while Ellie sat to your left doing the same. You started doodling with one of the pieces of chalk that was scattered along the driveway to pass the time as well while Happy and Juice leaned against their bikes, keeping watch all of you. 

“You wanna get your hands dirty?” You held up the pink piece of chalk and called out to the two bikers. 

Juice was quick to smile but deny the request, his way of trying to look tough. You clocked it immediately because just yesterday he was eating a spongebob popsicle off the ice cream truck when he was the only one on your watch detail. 

“Yes I do.” Happy said instantly and eagerly as he pushed off his bike. He was quick to grab the chalk from you and begin doodling on the pavement. You thought you’d be shocked at his instant agreement to join you on the ground with the pastel art tools but surprisingly, it was exactly what you expected. Happy knelt on the pavement, one knee touching the ground while the other was being used as an armrest for the arm that wasn’t creating a chalk masterpiece. 

“C’mon Juice.”  You nodded your head to wave him over. 

“Yea, c’mon Juice!” Your daughter called out with a smile. 

You smirked at that and so did Juice as he walked over to you both. The little girl in your lap holding out the pink piece of chalk up to the biker. 

“Thanks,” His smirk not falling as he grabbed the chalk from the girl. 

“S’my favorite color.” She beamed at you and said the color’s name to show how smart she was. “Pink.” 

“It’s Juice’s too.” You teased and patted to the free space next to you as he shook his head and blushed. “Show me what you got, Juicy.” 

He started drawing stick figures, graffiti words, tribal drawings like his tattoos. 

“Can you draw me a flower?” Your daughter was quick to crawl out of your lap and sit in front of Juice. 

“I can try.” He began to try and draw some version of a flower, although it was looking more like a blob. 

“That’s not very good.” She tilted her head and frowned at it. 

You called out your daughters name, a warning to be nice although it didn’t do much. 

“Why does your hair look like that.” She asked as she drew over Juice’s flower creating her own masterpiece. 

Juice practically spit out the sip of water he just took at the girl’s question. 

“Why don’t you go see what Abel and Kenny are drawing, huh? Go ask Happy your questions.” You interrupted to give Juice a break. The girl shrugged and skipped her way over to the other group on the driveway. You knew Happy could handle the questions and would give them right back which entertained her. 

“Can you teach me how to draw that?” You heard her voice behind you as she stood over Happy’s shoulders. 

“I sure can.” He nodded and handed her the yellow piece of chalk before the sounds of the chalk hitting the pavement filled the air.

“Mommy look!” She called out and you turned to see the tons of smiley faces drawn on the ground, some smiling, some crying, some grinning. Your eyes jumped to Happy and back to the drawings a few times. No one came out and told you what Happy’s name meant, but being a Teller you had been around the clubhouse enough to see Happy hit the ring which meant seeing the array of smiley tats across his lower abdomen. It didn’t take a genius to put it together. 

You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or be mortified, the kids had no idea what it meant but there was a part of you that felt like there was something eerie about it. 

“Nice drawings.” Your eyebrows raised at him with a smirk as your nostrils flared. 

Happy smiled, oblivious to your sarcasm and nodded.

The sound of motorcycle engines filled the air, but there was no sign of who it was yet. Happy and Juice quick to stand up, Happy picking up your young daughter while you got up as well. He handed the girl to you before walking to the end of the driveway with Juice. As you situated the girl in your arms you began to walk near the garage door and called the rest of the kids over to you. There was a pit in your stomach, you grabbed your nephew and placed him behind you and told Kenny and Ellie to do the same as you guided them as well, using yourself as a human shield to them as you typed in the code to the garage door. 

The bikes got closer and as the sound got louder so did your thumping heart. The garage door was taking its sweet time to open, you tried your best to keep your wits about you as to not scare the kids but it was hard when Happy and Juice were reaching for there pieces. 

“Let’s play a game!” Your head snapped to the kids as the garage door opened. “Go inside and we’ll play hide-n-seek! Only rule is you MUST stay in the house. You hide and I’ll find you!” 

The kids giggled and immediately ran inside the house, your daughter wasn’t eager to leave your arms to play so you kept her in your grip, her head rested on your shoulder which soon dropped in relief as you saw the reaper on the bikes that were approaching. You recognized both bikes, your brother and Opie’s. A breath you didn’t realize you had been holding in let out and you closed your eyes in reassurance. 

Happy and Juice fell back quickly too, their relief looking a little different than your own. As both men pulled up to the curb and backed their bikes up, you started to walk down the driveway. Opie walked over to Happy and Juice likely to fill in the crew on what had just happened while Jax walked up to you. 

“You look like you just saw a ghost.” His long blond hair blew in the hot heat as his smirk grew. 

“I thought I was about to become one.” The only reason you let the joke out was because within the few minutes of your daughter being in your arms she had fallen asleep. 

He frowned and picked his hand up to tuck your daughters hair behind her ear. 

“I’ve been on edge, heard the bikes.” You shook your head and looked down. 

“We figured it all out, we’re fine, you’re safe.” His eyes jumped from yours to the girl in your arms, “all of you.” 

Jax’s eyes looked down at the concrete to see the chalk drawings on the ground, clocking the smiley faces immediately and let out a chuckle. 

“Really, Hap?” Jax called out to the man who smiled and nodded. 

At this point, Opie was walking over, his tall body standing over you in seconds as he placed a kiss on your head. 

“Hey, you okay?” His brows furrowed picking up on your tension. 

“We spooked her.” Jax teased you as he pinched your elbow. 

Opie’s eyes moved back to yours looking for confirmation. 

“I’m fine.” You argued and looked up to Opie who smiled knowing that the sibling rivalry was coming through in your short worded sentence. 

“Where the kids?” He asked still smiling. 

“Inside, I told them we’re playing hide-n-seek if you want to go find them.” You knew both men would pick up on the fact you told them to hide and probably why but before either of them could get to the bottom of why you were so on edge besides the obvious, your daughter was stirring awake. 

“Look who's here.” You whispered to her as she sat up in your arms and you turned so she could see her father. 

“Hi Daddy.” Her voice was still half asleep. 

“Hi baby.” Opie’s arms extended out so he could grab her. “I drew smileys with Happy.” She rested her head against his shoulder in an attempt to go back to sleep. Opie looked down at the pavement and then back to you. 

“She also asked Juice about his haircut.” You crossed your arms. 

“It looks funny.” She said still at a mumble causing Opie and Jax to laugh. 

“I think it does too.” Jax started to walk inside the house. “Ready or not, here I come!” He called out but you knew he was going to grab a drink and a snack from the kitchen before he started to look for the kids. 

“I guess next time we’ll keep Hap with us.” Opie teased as you both started to walk inside while the sound of Juice and Happy’s bikes started. You turned to wave goodbye to both of them before looking back at Opie as you made your way into the garage. 

“Nah, he might be insane but he’s good with the kids and having him around actually puts me at ease.” 

“If this is you at ease, I’d hate to see you tense.” Opie teased you again as the garage door closed. 

“Why don’t you and this jelly bean here go look for the kids.” Your arms still crossed as your eyes rolled. 

“You wanna go find Abel, Ellie, and Kenny?” Opie bounced up and down to wake up his daughter. “I’ll give you a popsicle if you find them all.” His voice raised as he incentivized the girl who was suddenly wide awake. 

“Let’s go!!!” She kicked as he placed her down and she hit the ground running. “C’mon Mom, let’s go!!!” She called out to you. 

Opie smirked and threw his arm around you, “yea, let’s go.” 

[rashoumon-homo]

- Bottom Dazai Week 2024 -

Day 5 - Burned Bridges

5/17/24 - “You’re pathetic.” // Begging

Dazai is on the run from the Port Mafia, and being alone is starting to weigh on him.

♡ ♡ ♡

The motel was dingy and dirty and cheap. Dazai had paid $25 in cash at the front desk for a room. The receptionist, a rail-thin old woman, thankfully didn’t even look up from her gossip magazine as she counted the bills and handed him a room key.

The room had a single queen-size bed. Moth-eaten curtains covered a window across from the door. When Dazai poked his head into the bathroom and turned on the light, several roaches scuttled under the cabinets. He sighed and turned the light back off.

It hadn’t even been a week that he’d been on the run since leaving the Port Mafia and he was already sick of it. Sleeping in ratty motels when he could, and squatting in abandoned buildings when he couldn’t. Stealing food from open-air market stalls on busy days when he could blend into the crowd, or digging through restaurant dumpsters for salvageable leftovers on the bad days. He also had no one to talk to- he was completely and utterly alone, which was regrettably weighing on him more than the physical conditions.

Dazai took off his tie and shirt and hung them up in the small closet. No coat- he’d burned that shit in the same fire that decimated Chuuya’s car. Burning bridges, fresh start, all that good shit. He slipped off his shoes and took off his pants, hanging them up as well. He’d have to get to a laundromat soon, everything was starting to smell.

Left in only his boxers, he flopped onto the bed. The mattress was lumpy and the sheets were musty, but he couldn’t complain. At least he’d be sleeping on a real bed.

The downside to being safe, if even momentarily, was that it gave space for his thoughts to wander. Lately he’d been having nightmares about Oda’s death, but today his thoughts went in a different direction. One plagued by visions of red hair and blue eyes. Of a face that so often scowled but could twist into the most breathtaking smile.

♡ ♡ ♡

Continue reading here!

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Tag list: @suru1990 @little-miss-chaoss

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[it-happened-one-fic]

Hours in the Moonlight: Solitary Eventide - 1. The Library

Summary: As per usual, you’d only been given a minimal amount of time before it was off to the next vampire clan for the next evaluation. And this group was housed in a library, had a cursed clan leader and a… robot? What new mysteries might you uncover, and what lessons will you learn at this new, strange clan of vampires, robots, and seemingly cursed individuals? And how much closer would it bring you to learning the real cause behind the insane vampires?

Series Type: Gender-neutral reader/ Vampire AU/ series/ romantic/ angst/ angst with comfort/ fluff/ sfw/ platonic interactions too!

Trigger Warning: Vampire

Word Count: 1887

Hours in the Moonlight Master-List

I was already prepared when the jovial-sounding knock sounded on my window, causing me to smile to myself, if a little tiredly.

I pulled the curtains back, my bag already hanging over my shoulder, and my necklace latched around my neck so that the cross charm hung discreetly under my shirt where it wouldn’t bother any vampires unless I tugged it out specifically for that purpose.

Sam smiled, tipping his hat at me as I raised the pane of glass that separated the two of us, “Long time, no see, Little Imp.”

I felt myself smile back at the man, whose appearance always signaled that I would be heading to yet another clan. I was comfortable with Sam now, though. Even if being comfortable with him might not be the best choice considering he worked directly under Crowley.

I shifted the strap of my bag as I leaned relaxedly against the edge of the window, “Where are we headed to tonight, Sam?”

His smile spread at my words, his eyes narrowing slightly with the expression change, “The Ignihyde clan, but at least you won’t be spending the evening alone tonight.”

I snorted at his playful words, nodding slightly even as I stepped away from him, “I guess not. I’ll see you outside, Sam.”

“Sure thing, Little Imp,” His words were chipper before he jumped back, causing me to shake my head slightly.

At this point, I was all but convinced he did that just to startle people. But by now, I was used to Sam’s method of exiting.

I closed the window before turning and heading out the door, making my way out and onto the street in a timely fashion, only to find Sam leaning up against a light pole. Smiling at me from where he’d been watching the door and waiting for my appearance.

I joined him, gesturing for him to lead the way. My motions elicited a light chuckle from him before he shoved his way off the pole and took off, hands in his pockets, as he strolled calmly down the street and left me to follow him.

I really didn’t know when I’d gotten to be comfortable with Sam, especially since I’d started out wary of him due to his connection with Crowley, but by now I was quite used to him.

In fact, I’d even come to rely on him, at least a little bit, when it came to getting introduced to the clans.

I walked in silence behind him, doing my best to recall what Vil and Rook had told me about the Ignihyde clan and what I’d seen of them.

The first thing that came to mind was the flaming blue hair and the little robot. However, if memory served, Rook had mentioned that they were a reclusive group who were proficient with technology.

In that sense, at least, they ought to be more with the times than the Diasomnia clan had been. A thought that had me smiling as I recalled Malleus’s fascination back when I’d shown him my phone just a few nights ago.

I did remember that Vil had mentioned that the head of the Ignihyde clan was supposedly cursed, though, which was a thought that had me frowning ever so slightly.

Vampirism was often portrayed as a curse in and of itself by Hollywood, so I couldn’t help but wonder how on earth the clan head was cursed since he already had all the downsides of being a vampire to deal with. 

After all, I could only assume that Vil hadn’t meant vampirism when he’d been talking about curses.

I trotted forward, catching up with Sam, who glanced over my way at the very same moment I looked over at him, “Is there anything you can tell me about the Ignihyde clan that I might need to know?”

Sam’s eyes seemed to glow in the darkness of the overcast night as he looked back at me, outright grinning at my words before he answered, “Something you might need to know, eh?”

Sam only paused for the briefest of moments, looking away from me as he continued to stroll along beside me before he spoke again, “They’re a reclusive clan. One with a lot of secrets and who very rarely shows up at meetings. You should’ve seen their clan head at the ball on the night you met Crowley, though.”

I nodded slightly before speaking slowly and almost hesitantly as I recalled the young man. After all, he had made quite the impression with his flaming hair and seemingly gloomy disposition, “The one with the flaming hair?

Sam nodded, confirming my words as he looked back forward and continued to lead me into the downtown area, “Yeah, Idia Shroud. He’s the leader of the clan.”

I stayed silent, waiting for him to continue, only to be met with silence, which prompted me to continue, “And the robot?”

Sam glanced back over at me idly, “That would be Ortho Shroud. Idia made him shortly after appearing on the scene.”

I nodded, noting the shared last name as Sam continued, leaving me to ponder why a vampire might build a robot in silence as he spoke, “The Ignihyde clan’s size is hard to place since their members seldom leave their clan’s headquarters. We wouldn’t suspect them at all if it weren’t for the rumor they were working on something.”

I frowned at his words, immediately picking up on the fact that Crowley and company were apparently suspicious about something regarding this clan as I warily echoed Sam’s words, “Working on something?”

Sam nodded, “Yeah, they’re apparently making something. It could be the cause of our insanity issue.”

He glanced my way with slightly raised eyebrows, and I nodded, understanding the meaning of that look. My job was going to be to find out what they were working on. In this case, evaluating the clan was probably going to take a backseat.

Sam’s steps slowed before he stopped, and I found myself looking around in confusion at the buildings around us. 

None of them looked like somewhere I expected vampires to be hiding out, and almost all of them were businesses of some sort. But then, I hadn’t exactly expected the building the Scarabia headquarters was in to hold vampires either.

Sam was grinning as he turned, gesturing to the building in front of us, and I blinked in surprise as I recognized the building at the same moment that he spoke, “Welcome to the Ignihyde clan’s headquarters.”

I looked over at him, not even bothering to hide my surprise as my eyebrows rose in slight disbelief, “The library?”

Sam let out a laugh before he nodded, confirming my words with an amused echo, “The library.”

Sam led me into the building, and a sleepy-looking older woman immediately looked up from behind the desk at us with a perfectly bored expression, “Sorry, we’re closed for the evening.”

Sam continued forward, a smile on his face that had the woman frowning warily until we reached a certain distance from her, and she inhaled sharply. Her eyes zipped over and locking on to me as her pupils dilated to a degree that I could even see it at this distance.

I faltered at her pointed gaze, which I immediately recognized from my numerous past encounters with vampires, but Sam continued on unperturbed. A grin slipping onto his face that clearly displayed his fangs as he leaned against the front desk and inclined his head in such a way that I could no longer see his eyes as he spoke, “We’re here on business from a Mr. Crowley.”

Whatever she saw on his face had the woman going even more pale than she already had been as she nodded, her voice trembling as she swallowed thickly and responded, “I—

 I see! Please, come this way!”

She all but ran out from behind the desk and away from us, but Sam only followed her at a leisurely pace, glancing back at me with a smile as he bounced his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug, “Jumpy sort, isn’t she? But a lot of the folks here are like that.”

 I nodded slowly, hardly knowing what to think as I looked back towards the woman as she pressed a couple of buttons on the wall that I hadn’t even noticed before she spoke into a seemingly invisible microphone, “Ortho? Yes. We have guests…. They’re from the head-vampire.” 

When she turned to look back at us, her voice was still wobbly and her smile nervous, “Ortho will be here soon. He’ll escort you to our leader.”

Sam nodded, a calm smile on his face like nothing at all was amiss as I glanced at him before looking back at the woman, who now fidgeted with her fingers nervously. After a brief moment I took pity on her, leaning forward and smiling as reassuringly as I could at her, “Thank you.”

She froze under my gaze, going almost inhumanly still as she stared at me with gradually widening pupils and parted lips, until I felt myself swallow uncomfortably and look away.

And about that time, a pair of doors, which had looked like a part of the wall, slid open with a sound akin to a sigh, and a boy, or rather, a robot boy, drifted out.

He blinked at us with large yellow eyes that quickly closed with a wide smile that was otherwise invisible since he appeared to have no mouth. Instead, something akin to a speaker took its place on a mask that wrapped around the lower half of his face. 

Blue flames billowed up from his head like hair, and I blinked in surprise. Quietly realizing that this must be Ortho Shroud as I recognized him from the ball.

He waved, his head tilting slightly as a friendly young voice emitted from the speaker on his face, “Hello. You must be Mr. Sam.”

He paused slightly as his gaze drifted over to where I stood as he lifted off the ground, floating effortlessly as he looked at me in the eyes with that same friendly stare, “And you must be the new Hunter, Y/n. My brother and I had been wondering when you would be coming.”

I nodded slowly, feeling confusion sink in at his words. 

His brother and him…. Did he mean the clan leader?

Sam spoke, covering for me effortlessly as he smiled, “Yes, we only just decided that it was time for Y/n here to evaluate your clan.”

Ortho nodded, humming in an understanding tone, “You must be wanting to see my brother then, right?”

He looked back towards me, and I nodded again, this time more readily, as I clarified, “We’re wanting to see the clan leader, yes.”

The little robot nodded, his wide eyes brightening as his slender metal fingers pressed together in front of him, “Great! I’ve been looking forward to when you would come visit him! Come right this way, please!”

He flew a little higher, almost like he was excited, before spinning and heading back into the elevator.

Sam smiled knowingly over at me before taking off, leaving me to follow him in utter confusion.

Vampires housed in a library with a little robot….  And here, I’d thought some of the other clans were odd.

If you would like to read more:

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[gatheringfiki]

The following ficlet was written by @i-am-still-bb​ based on this photoset.

Fili/Kili, T

You might also be able to read this story on AO3.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3.

The Fallen Moon

—

Erebor was cold in December. But it was not bitter and dry or bright and harsh. The city was nestled against the sloping curves of the mountain’s legs as they wrapped around the banks of the fjord. There was snow. There were ice crystals in the air. It was winter. It was cold enough that rugs and pelts had been pulled from storage where they had been carefully paced after being beaten clean last spring. They were then draped over many of the exposed stone surfaces in the living quarters. Because, despite the fires, if you pressed yourself to the stone without a barrier for long enough the cold would seep from the stone into your skin to settle in your bones. 

They had both learned that the hard way. More than once. But had been caught up enough in the moment not to change locations on each occasion.

Fili was currently cocooned in a thick blanket—despite the large fire behind the intricately wrought iron grate that held back the logs and popping embers—in a deep slouch. His feet were propped on a padded ottoman. At his elbow was a glass and metal chalice of wine and a book was spread open across his lap. He was not actually reading it. He was staring out the large glass windows at the mountains that were silhouetted by the flickering stars and the dull streaks of pink and purple that sometimes appeared. 

The doors in their private rooms were never closed off allowing free movement without having the shove around the monstrously heavy doors. The only real downside was that sometimes drafts flowed through the rooms like water. Warm or cold air washed over them, only truly unpleasant if it was cold air, and one was just out of the sauna.

Kili stood in the open door, hand on the carved and scarred wood. He watched Fili in silence, looking for the things that Fili would often hide from Kili for whatever reason. And Kili hated those silences. He hated missing those parts of Fili. 

But when Fili was alone he stopped guarding himself so much. 

He lifted the chalice to his lips, the purple-red wine staining his lips. He was relaxed, but his lips were pulled down in a frown. There were lines on his face, a weariness and a wariness, that had not been there last year at this time. 

Kili watched for a few minutes before he joined Fili. He sat on the furs next to Fili, propped his thick stockinged feet next to Fili’s, and silently untucked the edge of the blanket so that it could cover both of their laps. Fili quietly roused himself, shaking away the melancholy thoughts that had been holding his attention. 

Fili lifted the glass of wine again. It was running low already. “Where did you get to today?” 

Before answering Kili adjusted his seat, crossing his ankles and angling himself to face Fili, “Just around. Answering questions. Doing stuff. Dwalin convinced me to do some training with him. He said to tell you that he has time in the morning for you.”

Fili groaned and closed his eyes. “I’ll just fecking make another of me,” he snapped. “I don’t have enough time for the stuff I already need to do. I do not have the time to play at swords with Dwalin,” Fili scowled, turning his face away from Kili, then said, quietly, “As much as I might want to do just that.”

“I’m sure I can do some of the work…” Kili started. It wasn’t the first time he had made this offer. And he knew how it would end. If they were lucky it would be a couple of sharp words and hurt feelings and then shared silence. But if they weren’t… it would mean another argument. Raised voices. Possibly a shattered chalice as it was swept aside in anger or frustration. Separate silences. And sleeping alone in their separate chambers.

And there had been a lot of the latter of late.

Kili did not get to finish his sentence before Balin was knocking on the door frame. He and many others had never gotten used to the open doors. “My liege.”

“Balin,” Fili sighed. “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?”

“It’s proper.”

“I don’t care,” Fili practically whined. 

“What is it, Balin?” Kili asked, seeking to prevent them from getting stuck in a loop where Fili would insist and Balin would refuse. 

Balin cleared his throat. “The Fire Stag, the Agni Olen,  has been spotted.”

Kili straightened, excited, the blanket falling away from his legs. “Really? How long’s it been?”

“Since Thrain’s disappearance, milord.”

“It’s overdue,” Fili said. “And of course it’s cold now.”

“It does usually appear during the winter season,” Balin said gently. 

“So, what do I have to do?”

“I’ve already called a council meeting for tomorrow, but I thought that you should know, so you have time to prepare yourself for the quest.”

Fili’s voice was sharp. “Thank you. You can go now.”

“Great, another thing to do,” he said sourly after Balin was out of earshot. 

—

The mountain aspens still clung to their golden leaves in the twilight. 

The courtiers and the rest of the entourage had trickled away or not even left the castle gates, eventually leaving Fili and Kili alone at the entrance to the Enchanted Forest to find the pieces of the moon. And if they didn’t find the pieces of the moon? Nothing bad happened. There were no prophecies of doom, no nobles waiting to depose Fili. It was just tradition.

And the fallen moon had been found, but also not found plenty of times before. 

Fili patted Daisy the Pony’s neck and considered the forest. 

“It’s so quiet.”

“It’s nice.”

Kili just nodded his head in agreement before saying, “So should we get going?”

Fili released a deep breath before answering. “Might as well.”

—

Three days later they found themselves on the edge of a lake that had ice growlers floating in the calm water. Daisy’s breath came in clouds. The sun was pink on the water in the pre-dawn light.

The small tent was warm from their bodies and breath. The textures of the animal skins that made up the tent slowly became visible as the light outside grew brighter. Fili’s cares had seemed to fall away in the past days. He snapped less and laughed more. And they hadn’t exchanged sharp words at all. Which was good because there were no separate places to retreat to, and the tent was very small. They had slept side by side in peace, finding warmth in each other.

Fili spoke into the empty air as he stared at the ceiling. “I don’t want to go back.” 

“Daisy might not give us much choice. She’s going to demand fresh, not frozen, food.”

Fili kept talking, like he had not heard Kili, “I’m sure Balin will be able to figure things out. The nobles will probably make things difficult for a while, but… Dain always has wanted a bigger kingdom.”

“But you’re a better king than Dain is.”

Fili sighed.

A long silence stretched out between them. 

There were small sounds.

A crack of ice on the lake. 

Daisy huffing and stamping her feet. 

The tent moving and creaking in the slight breeze. 

“I guess you’re right. We should get going and try to find that bit of moon before Daisy eats all of the grain we brought with us.” Fili sat up, the furs and blankets falling away and scrubbed his face with his hands.

“She’ll do that in the next hour if we let her.”

He groaned theatrically. “Don’t remind me.”

“We did bring the hungriest pony in Erebor.”

“Why was that again?”

Kili shrugged.

When they were finally bundled up and ready to leave the tent the pink light of dawn was fading into the dreary grey it had been for most of their days. Fili exited first and held the tent flap open for Kili to follow him. Kili straightened and froze.

“Fili.”

Fili looked in the direction Kili was looking. Out at the lake with its ice growlers. 

There, right near the shore, was a growler the size of a table. And on it was a crescent moon.

[elfieafterdark]

Cavnav AU.

Gideon's new room is... More than she could have ever wanted out of life. It's funny, it never occurred to her that you could have furniture in your room.

Yet she does. She has a small stone wardrobe. A small desk, with a drawer (She hides her magazines in it). And a bed.

A real bed.

A comfortable, plush, squishy bed. With a blanket that isn't threadbare. She even has a FUCKING window!!! True, but you can't see anything out the window other than drillshaft.

But still!!!!

The only downside is that her room is connected to Harrowhark's...

Whatever, she can roll with that.

[the-roo-too]

home -> poohers (haeyn)

clip one; representative emojis

“why do you want the bear emoji then, unnie?”

“it suits me!” haewon pouts at you. “more than you certainly.”

“hey!” you could hear all the other members laughing in the background at the small interaction. “i’m very much a bear, thank you.”

“no me.”

“nope.”

“yes.”

“nuh uh.”

“yuh.”

“lily unnie, say something!” you turned to the eldest member of nmixx, watching her quickly stifle her laugh.

“why do you want the bear emoji, y/nnie? i think haewon claimed it the moment we thought about representative emojis…”

“because! it’s winnie the pooh.” you pouted at her, making her giggle. haewon then came up to you again, her pout matching yours.

“y/nnie, can’t you have a bee emoji then? or honey? please?”

reluctantly, you nodded your head, watching the older girl’s face light up with a smile. “yes! told you guys i was a favourite!”

clip two; poohers

you and haewon were having a live together. originally, it was supposed to be a ‘y/n solo live’, but haewon said that ‘a bear is lonely without its honey’. she was just being clingy with her favourite maknae, but you’d excuse that.

“‘ship name’? as in, me and haewon unnie?” you chuckled a little at the thought while haewon looked at the camera offended.

“how can you guys not know?” you turned to look at her in surprise. as far as you were aware, you two did not have a ship name yet. “real fans do know that y/n and me are poohers!”

“what?” you couldn’t hold your laughter at the stupid name she came up with. “poohers? who said that!”

haewon pouted and leaned closer to whisper into your ear. “i thought of that… just made it up on the spot. do you not like it?”

you glanced at the camera again and smiled brightly. “yeah, poohers. i just forgot, sorry unnie.”

‘awwh’

‘cuties <:)’

clip three; workdol

you, a fan favourite, and your group’s leader were invited to film an episode together. the theme? stewardesses!

you were very excited when you arrived at the set with haewon. flying was something you always liked—looking out of the window and watching pretty views, napping in a comfy chair.

the only downside of the episode was that you two were supposed to film on a flight to japan and as a foreigner who had to receive occasional help with her korean, you could not for the life of you read the announcements.

“do you understand what’s going on, y/nnie?” haewon whispered to you in the middle of the flight, a look of worry flashing on her face.

“nope.” you saw the way she got worried before you quickly reassured her. “but i’m having a lot of fun! and you’re here with me, unnie. i think this is nice.”

“yeah.” haewon perked up at your comment, her eyes glimmering. “this is nice.”

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tags.:

[ncssian]

what started in beautiful rooms

ends with meetings in parking lots

i have a bunch of half-written ask responses from 2022 that've been rotting in my drafts for ages so i'm clearing them out now

*** Nesta's back hit the driver's side window as Eris climbed over her body, peppering kisses across every inch of skin he could find.

It was a tight fit in the front seat of her car, nothing like the expensive hotel room where their relationship had first sparked to life. It felt like heaven nonetheless, with his mouth nipping and suckling at the spot behind her ear in a way that was almost more sensual than sex itself.

The only possible downside to this was that all the time spent with Eris’s mouth worshipping her skin was time that could've been spent listening to his smooth voice as he told her about his week.

Speaking of time...

Her eyes drifted to the dashboard clock, where she saw the morning had long drifted by and it was now pushing one p.m. "Shit," she cursed, shuffling to sit up straight. With great reluctance, she made herself shove Eris back into the passenger seat. He landed against the headrest with a thump, and his own eyes tightened as they saw the time too.

"I was supposed to be home over an hour ago." She fumbled with her seatbelt, checking the rearview mirror for any obvious marks or hickeys.

"Who cares?" Eris drawled, not making a move to get out of her car. "Just make up an excuse. It's not like he's keeping track of how long you're gone."

He was probably right, but Nesta knew she shouldn't risk it. It was a Sunday, for God's sake, and she'd left her and Cassian's bed this morning without even waiting for him to wake.

She gave Eris an apologetic wince, the type of sympathetic frown that made one cheek dimple, and he gave in with a reluctant sigh. "Can I ask you one thing before I go?"

"Anything, love."

"Let me take you out the next time we see each other. On a real date, not a shady parking lot date." The plea was genuine and soft-spoken.

Nesta stilled with her hand on the gear shift, her body ready to speed home. But her mind was stuck on Eris's proposal.

A public date was a huge risk. Cassian had more work connections than one would think possible, and the probability of being caught was far too high. And yet, there was nothing she wanted more than to flaunt Eris before the whole world. Men like him didn't deserve to be hidden away in the shadows.

"Get home safe." He leaned over and pecked her on the lips, and graciously pretended not to notice her swoon as he grabbed his wallet and keys and exited the car.

"You too," Nesta returned faintly before he shut the door in her face.

[eddiediaaz]

image sequence method? 👀 faster than load files into stack method?? 👀👀 please do tell me how it works bc i am tired of it taking soooo long make gifs bc of the time it takes to load files into stack 😭😘

omg it will CHANGE your life! basically what you need to do is put all of the screencaps in folders. one folder per gif. then you open photoshop, click open, navigate to the folder, click on any screencap, and tick that "load as image sequence" box, then open. there will be a little window asking you for the frame rate, and you just need to put in 23.976 fps.

it will open the gif as a smart object on a timeline almost instantly that youn can use as is right away. what i do then is i crop, sharpen, color, etc. and then when my gif is done i use an action to flatten into frames, make sure the speed is set to 0.05, and save! it's very easy peasy. you can save directly from the timeline too, but the gif will probably be way too fast (which you can fix with ezgif.com if you want tho! i do that sometimes when i'm very lazy)

the only downside is if you wanna keep the psd file for whatever reason you need to either A) keep the screencaps where they are and not delete them, or B) flatten the smart object into frames before doing anything else, then turn these frames back into a timeline animation for sharpening and stuff. if you dont do either of these and delete the screencaps, then when you open the psd again you will have your coloring layers, but the gif will be frozen.

this method kinda works as a proxy and points to the screencaps in the folders instead of loading them as a stack. it's much much faster and for scene gifs it's PERFECT, or for anyone who doesn't save psds often like me haha. but yeah i really wished i found out about this before! life changing for real