#oxygen unloading

[biology-geology-beaches-india]

The Science Diaries of S. Sunkavally, p445.

[bone-trash]

After Midnight - PART 1

Soap had been working his register for the better part of an hour when the trouble started. “The Trouble” being the 6’4”, burly, and tattooed angel currently making it hard for Soap to get enough oxygen to his brain to deliver his required greeting.

”Guid eenin, H-how are ye?” He stammered.

Steamin Jesus, MacTavish, pull it together!

He was dressed in an illegally tight black ribbed tank, black joggers, and oddly, a face mask with the lower half of a skeleton’s grin printed onto the fabric. His toned arms swirled with spooky tattoos and his hair was short cropped and flaxen. In short, he was the hottest person Soap had seen in real life and he was, confidentially, VERY happy that his register was kind you sit at to ring.

The man hummed a greeting but otherwise didn’t react to Soap’s gawking and began to unload his hand basket which consisted of several easy microwaveable meals, boxes of noodles, whey powder and tea.

No a chef, na matter, braw lad must no be lackin for company.

Soap worked quickly through the small order and tried not to fall in love with the way the man was completely ignoring every attempt he made to start up a conversation. Before long the beautiful stranger had paid, huffed a farewell and left Soap in an absolute state.

——

“Fuck.”

Simon seethed under his mask as he practically bolted from the small grocery chain he would NEVER visit again.

He was perfectly kind to you and you couldn’t even muster a hello??? What a psycho.

In truth Simon had been caught completely off guard. The line had been rather long and it had gotten to be his turn before he’d realized it. He’d looked up suddenly, and he could focus on was the young cashier’s very blue eyes and how attractively pink the lad was begining to turn. His throat closed right up and all he could do was grunt and mutter his way through payment. What a disaster…

[alchemistc]

goon | bucktommy

THE HOCKEY AU HAS A PROLOGUE

read on ao3

Tommy Kinard is hanging up his skates at the end of the season. It's time. He's ready to move on with his life. He's ready to give his knees a fucking break. The trade to the odds on favorite to win the damn thing this year is just another in a series of trades throughout his career that makes sense - he's there to allow a winning team to unload cap space, he'll get a couple minutes a night in the ramp up to playoffs, he'll retire without fanfare once the season is over. Coach Nash has other plans for him, and the team he's been traded to think he's the bees fucking knees. He's just trying to get through the rest of this season without dragging Evan Buckley into a closet and kissing him breathless.

Tommy’s a little out of breath. That’s to be expected, really — he’s been in town for a day and a half and there’s nothing quite like a practice at elevation with the fastest team in the league to cut his teeth on.

Hen eyes him up as he skates over to the bench to grab at a water bottle. She’s trying to her damndest to hide an amused grin, and failing miserably. “We keep oxygen tanks in medical,” she observes, a little sing-songy, and Tommy doesn’t bother to hide his rolling eyes or the tic in his jaw.

“I’m fine.”

Her face tells him everything he needs to know about how breathless that had sounded.

It’d been nice, finding a familiar face in the crowd after spending twenty minutes getting a tour of the practice facilities from the kid most of the league viewed with a kind of hushed reverence, save for the few who'd lived with the star power long enough to get used to it.

Tommy rarely got star-struck, anymore, but he hadn’t actually expected this years likely Hart recipient to be the first teammate to make contact; to swing by the hotel room to pick him up for practice when Tommy admitted he didn’t even have a rental yet, and he’d likely have to Uber; to walk him through and introduce him as teammates trickled in; to warn him ahead of time that eagle-eyed fans in the stands would definitely notice if his tape didn’t match the white socks still in their packaging laid out on the bottom shelf of the locker where they’d already printed off a name-card for him (”Here, I have an extra roll.”); to grin and shake his head a little when Tommy questioned exactly how many fans were likely to come to a weekday practice at the tail end of January.

Eight years out from the last time he’d seen Henrietta Wilson, calling out a red-faced AHL coach for throwing a kid back out on the ice with clear signs of a concussion, and she’s still not entertaining bullshit. “Okay, my conditioning could use some work.”

Eyebrow up over the rim of her glasses, she grabs for the water bottle and replaces it with a juicebox. Easiest ad placement since Gatorade made a name for themselves in dugouts and on sidelines, but Tommy’s got to admit it’s nice to have this shit so readily available. When he’d first been starting out, drinking anything but water (and maybe a beer between periods) had been considered pansy ass shit. “You’ll get used to the altitude. Not sure you’ll ever catch up to the pace.”

Tommy has no doubt. He hasn’t played against this specific configuration of this team, but they’ve been well known for their breakneck speed for years. He’s not an ungraceful man, but today he’s felt a bit like a baby giraffe trying to keep up with a pack of antelope, lumbering around with limbs that just won’t cooperate (and are probably gonna fucking cramp up the moment he stops moving) and lungs that aren’t taking in enough air to manage the bursts of speed these guys are executing like a light jog on a breezy spring day.

Tommy downs the electrolyte drink and takes a deep breath through his nose. “Why the fuck am I here, Hen?”

She purses her lips, tips her chin out in the general direction of where a few guys are still taking drills even as practice winds down. “Because these idiots are convinced they’re invincible, and no one has the heart to tell them talking shit to Trouba again is gonna end with one of them on a stretcher.”

Which — he’d known, in the abstract. Having an enforcer riding the bench for fifty plus minutes a night was an old school way of handling a small-light-fast team with just enough shit-talkers and star players to draw attention. Unexpected, in the current layout of the league, but not completely unbelievable. The GM had been a little shifty, yesterday, essentially reciting the same line as Hen but dressing it up in a whole lot of fancy front-office speak Tommy’s never really had the time for. He’s barely had a chance to talk to Nash, yet, but he’s sure he’ll hear echoes of it from his new head coach, too.

Tommy watches Diaz and Buckley taking turns blocking whiffle balls in front of the net; Chimney still taking drills at the net with their EBUG — McKinley had introduced him and wandered off to lace up his skates (”You can call me Nozzle,” the guy had told him, torso looking tiny in just his leg pads without his shell, too-long hair and that manic gleam in his eye that only goalies ever truly had, while Tommy listened to him talk about his plumbing apprenticeship and his daughter who loved hockey as much as her dad but wanted to be, of all things, a defenseman.); Greenway and Kinnunen taking shots from the circle getting increasingly more frustrated the longer Chim and Nozzle swapping in and out changes nothing about their ability to sneak the puck in five-hole.

There’s a palpable energy to this group. Something stirring in the air — between the single-minded focus of their stars, and the attentive way their third and fourth lines are still all out here after Nash had gathered them all in for an end-of-practice huddle, Tommy can feel the anticipation of more. More wins, more lessons, more conditioning, anything that will get this team past the second round with an eye toward the Cup. It’s been years since he’s been on a team with this much fucking focus.

Tommy eyes the fans still slowly trickling out from the bleachers — knows through word of mouth they’re likely gonna be sitting outside the parking lot waiting to see who’s gonna shift into park and lean out a window to sign some shit, talk to people for a minute or two. Kinda hopes McKinley’s still down to drive him back to his hotel so that he can watch some kid go feral when McKinley rolls down his window to greet him.

Well shit. If he’s gonna buy in, he might as well get a head start.

He turns back to Hen.

“Bunting never even got fined for that boarding call against Pannikar last year, did he?”

Hen grins. “No headshots, please.”

[undermine-the-instinct]

A million Bucks

Chrollo x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: You and Chrollo are both dorks waiting for any chance to info dump. Also. Chrollo gives you a million dollars. Literally, it's in the title.

thank @ddarker-dreams for their latest Chrollo concept amongst others inspiring me.

“Come! On! Enough exposition about the flowers, we’re going to miss it!” Watching your boyfriend go off on color and symbolism about each flower patch you passed in the botanical garden had been cute; You imagined him to have studied up on this ever since you expressed a desire to go. It was adorable, but if he kept talking like this the both of you were going to miss the sunset, and that was something you did not want to miss.

He lets you drag him by the arm, and in your huffy mood, you can just sense the amused little smile he wears, and you pull him along faster along the path.

“We still have around fifteen minutes before the sun sets, dear.”

“So? We can't just go when the sun is about to set–it's a gradual thing, watching the sky change color and such…Just trust me.” You pat his hand and he chuckles.

The hill is a perfect height, and you happily plop yourself down when you reach it, sighing in bliss.

“And now we wait.” There are already couples of all sorts sitting in the grass around you, and Chrollo immediately takes the spot next to you, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh.

“So this is what you wanted to see.”

“Yes, isn’t it pretty? It’l be even prettier in a few moments.”

“Hm,” He puts a hand to his chin and you know he's about to ask one of his questions.

“Tell me, common folk tend to romanticize watching the sunset, but if removed from their conventional daily schedules, would a person be able to tell the difference between sunrise and a sunset?”

“I think it’s pretty easy to tell though? Daybreak is softer, pinks and blues and lavenders and the like. Though the same colors could be found here too…Maybe because it's more tranquil? Everyone is still mostly asleep during the daybreak so you can hear the birds and the like.”

“Yet I can hear the birds now as well. And, excluding telling factors such as sound or general aura, could you truly tell the difference?”

You shrug.

“I'm not sure? If you plopped a random person on a hill such as this, but with no accompanying factors of time– like the street lamps turning on, or the clock or business folk walking home— how would they know?”

Now he’s got you hooked, time to unload some of the random trivial knowledge you have stored in your brain. You tilt your head in thought and carry on.

“The sunset often has a more yellow tone though? Sunlight is composed of a multicolored spectrum, just like a rainbow. It passes through the atmosphere, which is a mix of gaseous molecules like oxygen and nitrogen and water vapor, at a slant as the sun drops towards the horizon. The atmosphere is thicker during this time since during the day, general activity and the sun’s beams cause molecules to swell and expand, so the sun’s light rays have a harder time traveling. The short blue and violet waves have a harder time traveling, even the yellow and orange ones, which is why more densely packed and thus polluted areas usually have red sunsets. We’re lucky today to see such a bright orange sunset, but I guess that’s just a testament to how clean the city is. I knew I voted right.”

You laugh under your nose, but soon a question pops in your mind.

 “On another note though… these names that we give to these different times; Daybreak, dawn, dusk, twilight, noon, day and night…for a person who doesn’t know such things how would they apply them? Couldn’t daybreak also refer to the sunset, or to twilight, since that's when the day ‘breaks’ into night? Afternoon is pretty straightforward, but what is the concept of noon to someone who's never experienced it before? I mean, everyone has experienced noon but–” 

You look up, and the light is so bright and orange for a moment you could’ve sworn you saw your lover covering a lovesick smile. He quickly transitions to wiping his mouth, and you’re left stupefied if that really happened. There is still the slightest red hue on his ears, and a glimmer in his eye, but that could just be the sunlight.

“Well that's getting into the topic of linguistics, and the pattern we apply to languages for the patterns we apply to our general lives. It varies greatly among language and culture, different regions and dialects. There's certain parallels though to be found. Like how in many languages, like Spanish, day is referred to with the masculine, in this case ‘Buenos’ and night as the feminine ‘Buenas’. Apollo and Artemis, Lugus and Rhiannon, Inti and Mama Quilla, Huītzilōpōchtli and Mētztli, etcetera.”

“Oh, but that's getting into gender and its role in religion. And what about cultures that are the opposite? Like Ameratsu and Tsukuyomi-no-mikoto? Sol and Máni? And at this point, if we’re speaking about an established and organized religion then that means that such patterns have already been set and defined, and our original question has already been answered by our hypothetical person or peoples.” You grin and lean in closer to him. His hand creeps along your thigh but you let it.

“Removing all factors, How could one tell the difference between a sunrise and a sunset? They’d have to rely on intuition, with the absence of context clues. Maybe they’d be able to tell, since humans are mostly Diurnal? What do you think?”

He just stares at you, drenched in the sun’s rays, and gosh he’s really freaking pretty. Modeling contract when?

But he just keeps staring, and now you notice the way his pupils are dilated, the way he's leaning in.

“Chrollo?”

“I think,” he licks his lips before he speaks. “That you’re going to miss your sunset if you keep on.” You’re already flailing a little before he finishes his sentence, and Chrollo can't help the expression on his face as you eagerly lift your head to the sparse clouds up above.

“As riveting your conversation is though.”

“Oh shush you, we almost missed it!”

True, the skies edges were being beaten into blooming shades of indigo and plum, slipping into a golden orange and bleeding red at its sinking core. It was nothing he hadn't already seen before.

But you were acting like it was your first time; Your widened eyes glowed in the reflection of the sun, painting you in golden armour. It painted your hands, gilded your hair, lay heavy over your eyelids, and slick across your mouth like honey, opened slightly in awe. It seemed to almost pool on your tongue, and he so wanted a taste.

“Why are you staring at me?” You say, not keen to pull your eyes away. More's the pity. If you turned your head you would catch a glimpse of a man so besotted, drowning willingly in a love he never once thought he’d ever be able to experience.

“I seem to find you more captivating dearest.” 

Your brow pinches, adorably, but you scoff a laugh.

“Don’t be silly, you see me almost every day. You’ve seen my face a hundred times.”

“And I've seen the sunset a thousand more. So why would I choose to look at a dying star when I can stare at you?”

The sun is almost gone, but the red hue on your face doesn’t fade, and something in Chrollo’s chest warms; purrs and curls, like a snake.

He inches forward while you huff.

“Mister Casanova over here trying to be smooth…Just what are you thinking?”

It might be indecent, the way his hand smooths along your inner thigh, but he finds he doesn’t care. Neither do you, when you finally turn to look at him, and your breath hitches with how close he is. It's getting darker, but not all of the street lamps are on.

“I’m thinking…” And he smooths your hair away from your neck. You shiver. “That right now, I'm much too endeared by you to deny you anything you might ask.”

“Oh really?” Your tone is amused, disbelieving but he nods. Goodness he was…Ah, how did Uvo and Shalnark put it again? Whipped?

“Okay, I want a million dollars.”

His expression doesn’t change. “Alright.”

“Alright? Don't tell me you’re that easy love.”

“I’m afraid I am, for you dear… Is there anything else you desire?” You flush darker, but in a bold move you grab onto his collar and drag him down into the grass for a kiss.

Your mouth does taste sweet.

A few days later, you were relaxing at home…Until you decided to go to your local coffee shop and treat yourself. Your favorite barista made your drink perfectly, and you checked your bank account to see whether you could give them a more generous tip then your usual, to find something very shocking. Now you’re pacing your bedroom with your phone pressed to your ear.

“.....Yes, dear?” Finally he picks up. You immediately lay into him.

“Chrollo? Honey, dear, darling, apple of my eye, gem of my heart…I seem to be in a bit of a conundrum.”

“Is that so? How about you explain it to me so I can help you.”

“That's exactly why I called. Now, can you tell me why there is suddenly an extra one million dollars in my bank account? Hm?” You know it's his fault. You know it.

“Hm. Maybe your boss gave you a raise?”

“Oh, is that so?”

“You have been working hard dearest.” Cheeky bastard.

“Chrollo.” He chuckles on the other end of the line, and you feel like the top of your head is going to blow off.

”Chrollo.”

“Alright, alright. It was me.”

“And why in the nine circles would you do that?”

He’s silent over the line for a minute, you can only hear the hum of his car, so you assume he‘s driving, wherever he is.

“Well, you asked for it.”

“What–”

“As your spouse, isn’t it my duty to attend to your every want and need?” You slam the phone down on your bed, and immediately smack face down into a pillow, and scream. What the hell. You can hear his muffled voice on the side, and pick the phone back up after about a minute of suffering.

“Are you alright dearest?”

“My disappointment is immeasurable and my day is ruined.”

“Oh? Now that won't do. Would another million make you feel better?”

“I will literally leave you if you do that.”

“I always knew you were a thief. Not content with just my heart, are you?”

You sigh hard and pinch the bridge of your nose. There is an anxiousness curling tight and hot in your belly, and his amused tone of voice isn’t helping.

“Where did you even get this kind of money?”

“I won the lottery.” You yell his name and he laughs, full on laughs, you’re sure your face is completely red by now.

“I'm truly serious.”

“I’m not going to accept that as an excuse.”

“Fine. Then it was inheritance from a rich estranged aunt of mine. Perhaps I'm secretly the CEO of a major conglomerate. Or perhaps I own a couple of mines. Maybe I got lucky with the stocks I invested in. Whatever makes it easiest for you to accept, darling.”

“Accept what?”

“I think we both know what I’m alluding to.” There's that tone of voice again. That tone.

Sometimes, Chrollo just…puts you on edge. There was always something eerie about him, and while he could shrug it off and be his dashing, charming self, you couldn't deny that he sometimes made the hairs on your neck stand on end.

He was too observant, you could never sneak up on him. Never.  And he liked to stare, a lot. He was also crazy observant–bringing up little tidbits of info and conversation you brought up years ago with perfect clarity. He acted the most odd when you were your authentic self, like he was simultaneously amused and fascinated by your ‘quirks’. 

Like when you would stop to talk to and help strangers, or when you’d return a wayward shopping cart to its right place, or when you stop to pet the local stray cats. You had always brushed it off with probably him being jaded, a bit awkward (he doesn't get internet lingo, he doesn't know basic meme culture but can tell you in excruciating detail where the murderer went wrong in whatever documentary you’re watching), but you cared for him. The good outweighed the strange, right?Even  if he was gone so often, or never took off the wrapping around his forehead or changed in front of you, or how he could sometimes move so fast.

Your partner is creepy, honestly. But who doesn't want a borderline cryptid boyfriend? You stay with him anyways.

Maybe that's to your own detriment.

You sigh again, feeling like five years has been taken off your life. “You can't just drop a million dollars into my bank account Chrollo.”

“And why not?”

“Because… Because!! A million dollars Chrollo?”

“I see no issue with it. And I’m not taking it back.” He cuts you off before you can start your next sentence.

“I don’t see much value in material wealth. It makes no difference to me. Consider it disposable income.”

“Spoken like a true bourgeois.I can’t believe I betrayed my fellow man for a blood sucking parasite.” You wipe a fake tear away.

“‘Parasite’? I'm quite partial to spiders myself.”

“Ew, whatever.” Of course he would like spiders. “I’m donating your money to charity then.”

“Alright then. It’s your money now dear.”

“...You’re amused by all this, aren’t you.”

“I’m not quite  sure what you mean,” sounds of traffic overtake the line as he goes silent for a moment.

“I’m just endeared by your humility and generosity. But there's no need for theatrics dear. What's mine is mine, and what's mine is yours,” you can just imagine the smugness radiating behind that genial smile.

“And naturally, you are mine, so my point stands..”

You’re silent, and Chrollo waits for your response. You just sigh again, and shake your head.

“I can’t understand you sometimes.”

“There's no need for you to, darling. Just indulge me.”

“Yeah? And what would you like?” You tease, slipping into familiar territory. He hums in thought as if he doesn’t already know what he wants.

“Let me take you out to dinner tonight. No fuss from you.”

“You already made a reservation huh.”

“Of course. Five star." Oh dear goodness, this man is going to be the death of you.

Well, at least if you fall ill due to the stress of being with such a man you can actually cover your bills, and then some.

“So what do you want me to wear?”

“Something long sleeve, we’ll be dining on the open balcony.”

“You’ll just give me your coat if I get chilly. Anyways, I asked you what you want me to wear?” He goes quiet and you try not to grin.

“You said indulge you, right?”

He’s quiet over the line, before he laughs low, and despite yourself there is a flutter in your gut.

“You’re a wonder Darling.” he mutters something about ‘missing this later’ ��but before you could make head or tails of that he continued.

“Wear something black. Surprise me.” You roll your eyes and yourself off the bed, padding over to your closet.

“You and your monochromes…Alright, where are you?”

“Just a few blocks away.”

“That hardly gives me enough time to get ready.”

“No need to rush, we have time. I set the reservation for eight tonight, so you still have a few hours.”  

“Then why did you come so early?”

“What if you need help zipping up your dress?” You laugh, and close the closet, having grabbed what you needed.

“Whatever, let yourself in with the mat key. We’ll talk about your disposable income when you arrive. And you can put the roses away yourself when you come.”

His voice is smooth and deep with mirth. “How did you know I brought roses?”

“You always do, dear.” You hear the sound of a car roll up to the driveway and grin, hanging up the phone. You rush into the bathroom to get ready.

[imtrashraccoon]

…..I don’t mean to bother but I’ve had some major art block sooooo maybe a small Drabble for some inspiration? I’ve been on a tangent with undertale and dragons lately(mentally) but I’ve been so freaking busy and tired that I’ve just not had anything to put down onto paper. So dragon au if you don’t mind( Your The Dark Fortress AU has me in a star’s dammed chokehold)

Have a great weekend!

I'm so sorry this took a while but I hope the length makes up for it! These guys may have me in a chokehold too lol

This is a sort of part two to this post.

Future Tumble Edit: I made a prequel to these drabbles.

Donovan

You woke up in a cold sweat, desperately trying to inhale as much oxygen as you could. It was that same dream again; the one where you were constantly running but could never escape the invisible screams. Besides terrifying you, the nightmare served as a continual reminder that you were completely alone in the world.

The little nook you'd claimed as your own was dimly lit by distant firelight but you couldn't tell what time it was otherwise. The dark fortress was silent, as if even the structure itself was resting like it's scaly residents within. You should probably try to go back to sleep but after such a rude awakening, you were reluctant to do so.

Then, you heard heavy footsteps approaching your little hideaway and the dim light was replaced by a cyan glow as the last dragon you had wanted to see peeked inside. Because of his size, Donovan could only fit his head into the entrance but for the moment, he chose to remain outside. Both of you sat there for a moment, just staring at each other silently.

"I could sense your distress earlier. Are you alright?" the black dragon finally asked.

You frowned and averted your gaze. "No..." you whispered.

He seemed to consider your answer for a moment. "I suppose that was a silly question to ask," he started to say. "Would you be willing to talk about it?"

You shook your head, "No, not right now anyways."

He gave you a slight nod. "I won't force you but I am here if you decide you want to."

The idea of unloading everything you'd had to carry since you were a child onto your superior wasn't something you liked, especially because he was the one responsible for your trauma. Sure, he hadn't personally killed everyone you had held dear or destroyed your home town, but indirectly or not, you were still resentful and afraid of him.

"No matter what you believe, I consider you a valued member of my horde," Donovan added. "I value your wellbeing just as much as I do any of the others."

That was surprising. You'd only been here for a short time and in that time, he hadn't given you the impression of being so forthright. Still, he'd never lied to you, or any of the other dragons, as far you knew.

When you nodded silently, you heard him shuffling outside the nook and the cyan glow from his eyelight briefly disappeared. It returned after a moment and you looked over at him curiously.

"Would you like some company at least?" he asked in a soft voice.

You raised an eyebrow and gave him a confused look. Wasn't that what he was already doing?

He seemed to change shape before your eyes into a more compressed form. He still looked like a dragon but now he was wearing some rather formal clothes and was closer to your own height. You had a feeling he was still much larger than you though. The important thing was that he could fit into your little hideaway now, which you weren't sure if you liked.

He rolled his shoulders and flexed his phalanges, giving you the impression that he wasn't used to this form. Notably, he remained outside and waited for you to answer his question.

Once you'd regained your ability to speak, you shrugged. "I guess not?"

He gave you a toothy grin before crawling into your space and settling down at the edge of your makeshift nest. You noticed he had a book tucked under one arm and a part of you felt relieved that he didn't seem interested in just making conversation.

You laid back down and pulled the blanket up to your chin. One of Donovan's tails was resting against your leg but you didn't mind. Just him sitting near you seemed to ease your lingering anxieties. The sound of his breathing and occasionally turning a page soon lulled you into a comfortable slumber. Maybe in the morning you'd ask if he was always able to change his form like this.

Dirk

Steady...

You readjusted your grip on your sword and tried not to dwell on how sore your calves were becoming from squatting for so long. You were perched in an alcove above the courtyard where your opponent was currently searching for you.

You wouldn't exactly call the dragon a friend. He loved to tease and prod until you inevitably snapped. You knew that he got a kick out of seeing you mad but you weren't much better. You had always been a hot-headed person and whenever he wasn't purposely being annoying, you liked to test the limits of his own patience.

Sure, it was basically suicide to poke the literal beast with razer sharp claws and teeth, but you liked to live dangerously. While you also had to stay clear of the blade he liked to strap to his tail, you actually enjoyed the little cat and mouse game you two played. How far was too far? Who would chicken out first to keep from hurting the other?

You couldn't keep yourself from grinning as Dirk slowly stalked through the courtyard. He had an incredible sense of smell so you knew he'd figure out where you were eventually, but by then it'd be too late. As soon as he wandered beneath your hiding spot, you dropped down, landing squarely on his back.

Dirk reacted immediately and with a snarl, did his best impression of a bucking bronco. You stubbornly dug your heels into his sides and held on the best you could, but were soon sent careening across the courtyard.

You scrambled to your feet, inhaling sharply at the pain that would soon become many bruises. With a roar, Dirk charged and you just barely managed to leap to the side. One of his wings came down hard against your back. You struggled to catch your breath.

"Is that...all...you got...?" you panted.

His smile twisted into a cruel grin. "oh i've just barely started, cute stuff~"

You grinned and beckoned him closer.

Dirk didn't hesitate any longer and you braced yourself to meet him. He swept your legs out from under you with his tail. You kicked his stomach and rolled to your feet again. He just barely grazed your back with his claws. You smacked his snout with the flat edge of your sword. He barreled you over onto your back. You clawed at his eye sockets with your own nails.

Then he sat on you and no matter how much you struggled, you couldn't throw him off. Your sword was pressed against his throat, as was his tail blade to yours. You both stared at each other for what felt like ages, daring the other to stand down first.

"you're getting better..." Dirk remarked in a quiet voice. The target that floated above his chest was pulsing wildly but he didn't seem even close to being winded yet.

You huffed and rolled your eyes. "You're an awful liar..."

He snickered and licked a wet stripe up your face. "you're not wrong about that!"

Maul

You let your feet dangle over the edge of the wall and inhaled the cool autumn air. Somehow, you'd managed to survive living in this terrible fortress for three months. Finding your place in the rankings had been difficult but as the days passed, your confidence began to return.

While you still avoided most of the resident dragons whenever possible, there was one who didn't seem to mind your presence. Compared to the others, Maul was even-tempered and patient. The only time you remembered him lashing out was when Dirk attempted to steal his dinner once.

The big guy had left a couple hours ago without saying a word to anyone, which is why you were sitting outside right now. He was different from the others and you couldn't help but wonder why. He definitely took satisfaction in kills but he also wasn't one to boast about them. He also didn't usually go out of his way to hurt people but he was all too willing to defend himself if needed.

Just as you were thinking of going back inside again, you spotted the familiar silhouette of the dragon on the horizon. As he drew closer, you noticed that he was holding a large stag in his talons. You waited until he'd landed before creeping back inside the fortress again.

By the time you'd made your way to his quarters, he'd morphed into a sort of person-sized dragon and was already beginning to dress the carcass. You didn't know that he was able to change his shape but it would explain how he managed to always have preserved food on hand.

Unfortunately, being in a different form certainly hadn't dulled his senses and just as you were thinking of leaving, he paused and slowly turned around until he locked eyes with you. For a moment, you felt rooted to the spot as he studied you suspiciously.

"...do you...want to help?" he asked in a quiet voice.

You had expected him to tell you to leave and when he hadn't, you were taken aback. You didn't have a lot of experience with butchering but it couldn't be so bad if he was allowing you to help.

"Um, I suppose so? What do you want me to do?"

You crossed the room until you were standing next to him, purposely staying on his left side to avoid startling him. He'd already hung up the stag and sliced it's throat to drain the blood into a basin underneath. You could tell that he'd been careful when killing it, likely to avoid losing most of the meat, and it didn't seem like it had needlessly suffered before dying.

Maul retrieved a sharp-looking knife and handed it to you. "...watch," he grumbled.

With his own claws, he began making careful incisions in specific areas along the carcass. You did your best to pay attention but you couldn't help noticing that despite his obvious skill, he had a slight tremor in his hands as he worked. It wasn't so much as to ruin the pelt but you were beginning to understand why he might've wanted help.

He soon had you copy his movements and with some guidance, you helped him peel off the pelt, which was set aside for later. After that came the process of carving up the carcass into various cuts of meat. You weren't sure how he was planning on preserving all of it, but you had a good feeling he would smoke it and a part of you hoped he would let you try some when he was done.

It took several hours and you definitely wanted a bath afterwards, but working together had made the arduous task a lot easier. You could confidently say that you'd butchered an animal now, however you wouldn't say that the process had been enjoyable. Your skin felt sticky from sweat and other fluids, so on top of a bath, you would also have to thoroughly wash your clothes to get all the blood out.

While cleaning up, Maul had started a fire and began roasting a sizeable chunk of venison, which was helping to clear the almost overpowering scent of blood from the air. The tantalizing smell also served to remind your stomach that you hadn't eaten a proper meal all day.

Just as you were about to sneak away, Maul dropped a heavy hand on your shoulder. "...where do you think you're going?" he growled.

"S-sorry, I just thought-"

He didn't let you finish protesting before all but picking you up and dropping you into a chair near the fire. "...stay." He sternly pointed a claw at you to punctuate his demand.

You nodded, feeling more than a little anxious all of the sudden. Why was he upset? Had you ruined something?

Maul sliced off a decent hunk of the roasted venison before approaching you again. At least he had half the mind to set it on a tray before offering the still piping hot meat to you. When he didn't explain and just stared at you expectantly, you took a careful bite. He let out a pleased rumble before pulling up a chair and sitting down himself.

It wasn't anything fancy, but to you, it might as well have been the best thing you'd eaten in years. You couldn't remember the last time you'd had any venison that wasn't tough or incredibly gamey. You hadn't noticed Maul adding any seasoning, but he could've while you were busy cleaning and you wouldn't have noticed.

"It's really good..." you hummed softly.

He gave you what probably passed for a smile as far as dragons were concerned and ruffled your hair. "...you helped, so you deserve to enjoy it."

The finality of his statement stuck with you. While the scarred dragon wasn't much for speaking, you had a feeling that he meant everything he said. The thought that he was happy with how hard you'd worked made you feel warm and fuzzy inside. Maybe he actually liked having you around after all?

Reven

You wished you hadn't gotten out of bed today. Not only were you existing on maybe four hours of sleep, but your old scars had decided to act up as well. Needless to say, you were in no mood to deal with any of the dragons' shenanigans and had sequestered yourself on the ramparts, hoping none of them would find you.

A sudden gust of wind had you drawing your cloak even tighter around your aching body. It was a foolish idea to even be out here and while you knew you would regret it later, you really didn't want to go inside. At least you'd had half the mind to bring your whetstone so you could be somewhat productive, but now that your sword was sharp enough to split hairs, you didn't have anything else to do.

For a moment, the sun was blotted out by a large shadow but when you looked up, you didn't see anything. You were starting to consider going inside after all when Reven appeared out of nowhere, landing on the stonework a few meters away.

You held your breath, hoping by some miracle he hadn't spotted you and was simply surveying the area. Of course, you were proven wrong when he turned his head and fixed you with an unimpressed look.

The cloaked dragon was impossible to read even on the best of days but if there was one thing you knew, it was that he was best left alone. He wasn't as "stabby" as Dirk tended to be but you had witnessed how quickly he could snap on multiple occasions. Oftentimes, he seemed to grow irritated for no reason and when that happened, he would lash out at anyone unlucky enough to be nearby, which was usually Dirk.

You regarded Reven silently. It didn't seem like there was anything bothering him at the moment, but you really could only see his eyes beneath his hood and they always seemed full of hate. Today was different though. Sure, he looked like he'd been force fed a lemon for breakfast but there was something else there...

"H-hey..."

He narrowed his eye sockets at the sound of your admittedly pathetic voice. Suddenly, the empty space in the center of his mismatched eyelights constricted and a very familiar realization came over you.

No matter how friendly they could be, there was no changing their nature. You would never be more than prey to them.

Before you could even think of running, Reven had you. The next thing you knew was the deafening sound of wind in your ears and how every movement made your stomach lurch. How sharp daggers threatened to pierce you on every side. How you couldn't move. How you didn't dare open your eyes for fear of what you might witness.

The seconds seemed to stretch on for an eternity. You were still alive? What was he doing? Why hadn't he flung you against the wall? Or dropped you from a thousand feet? Or swallowed you whole? Or...?

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding. Slowly, you tried moving your fingers and then your toes. The daggers kept you from moving the rest of your body since you weren't about to chance what would certainly prove a horrific way to die.

You chanced a peek at your captor and came face to face with one of his eyelights. While it sharpened slightly as it focused on you, the psychopathic bastard said nothing, but how could he? It was awfully rude to talk with your mouth full.

Reven was apparently hellbent on taking you...somewhere. Unless he had finally gotten fed up and decided to do away with you where Donovan would be unawares? No, who were you kidding? Nothing escaped the corrupted dragon, nonetheless the absence of his favourite pet.

You placed your hand against Reven's jaw. There was nothing you could do but accept whatever he had in mind. So, while it seemed insane, you willed your body to relax. Anything could happen next and you needed to be ready for it.

Your acceptance seemed to do the trick or maybe he had just arrived at his destination. A wave of butterflies welled up in your gut, threatening to burst out as he descended back down to the ground. You felt a jolt pass through his body and into yours as he landed.

He deposited you onto the ground and while you panicked at first, he only gave you an annoyed look and settled down in the grass. To say you were confused was an understatement. He hadn't said a word the whole time and now he was just ignoring you?

"Reven?"

He let out a huff but turned to look at you out of the corner of his eye socket.

"Why did you...kidnap me?" you asked quietly.

He looked away again and towards the horizon. "you were acting like a sad sack all day," he muttered. "thought a change of view would help."

You frowned slightly at that. He'd taken you to a rocky outcrop overlooking a lake surrounded by a pine forest. It was certainly different than the often bleak fortress, so much so, that you could actually see the sunset.

You watched as the sun slowly sank beneath the horizon, painting the world in a swash of oranges, yellows, and reds. The sight was certainly spectacular and once the colours began to fade, you turned to Reven again.

"It's beautiful, thank you..."

He only grunted in response but you could feel his gaze on the back of your head when you looked away again. He didn't seem interested in making conversation but that was alright with you. Sometimes just sitting next to someone who cared was comforting in and of itself.

[lucky-3833]

A beowolf giving Nora or Ruby a rough throat fucking after snatching her away from camp. She wakes up do to a lack of oxygen and can only weakly struggle as the beast has it's way with her esophagus. She panics when black starts to tint her vision. As she loses consciousness all she can barely feel the beast unloading it's seed into her stomach. She awakes later back in camp, feeling a little bloated and wondering if it was all a dream unaware of the red eyes watching her from the treeline.

Just for fun I decided to back through my inbox. I’m really bad at deleting stuff I don’t think I’ll answer, so there’s things here from when I first started the blog…like this one, from 2017. I wonder if this anon is even still on tumblr? If they are, it’s their lucky day!

Ruby’s eyes flew open as she felt something cram its way between her lips, forcing her jaw to the limits of its tolerance as whatever it was pushed into her mouth and then down her throat.

What she saw made no sense. Nothing but veins hidden under a swell of black fur…at least, until she managed to catch a glimpse of the white mask of bone above.

A Grimm was in her tent. A Beowolf. And it was-!

She pounded her fists against its belly, uselessly. She might as well have been punching stone, as the Grimm shoved its fucking cock so deep inside of her that she swore the spade-shaped head was buried somewhere south of her collarbone.

Even as she choked and struggled, the fat balls pressed down over her nose smothered her, ensuring that the few faint gasps of air she’d managed to suck down before her throat was plugged were absolutely saturated with pheromones and musk. The Beowolf smelled like sex, fresh sweat and the unmistakable musk of masculinity mingling with the slightest tinge of blood, ensuring that even as his scent drowned her brain she was unable to forget what he was.

He didn’t even bother to pin her arms and legs down as he started to thrust, letting her cock and punch and flail for all the good it did as he languidly raped her throat, each thrust slamming his nuts into her face hard enough to make Ruby see stars.

To her increasing shame, her body was responding. Unwanted though it may be, her baser instincts recognized when a powerful male was present, and knew the appropriate responses. Her thighs rubbed together as heat flushed in her belly, each sloppy jet of precum poured into her stomach only stoking it higher.

The knot started to swell, battering at her lips, but oxygen was becoming a serious concern and Ruby was barely able to muster up the focus to realize what that meant.

And then, there was no way to ignore it. The beast’s knot slammed through her lips, throbbing to its full size and swelling to lock itself behind her teeth, ensuring that nothing prevented it from dumping its addictive, corruptive cum straight into Ruby’s belly.

to her horror, the silver-eyed Huntress trainee squealed silently around the improvised gag, a quick and filthy orgasm rocking through her as her body reacted to its violation. The oxygen deprivation hadn’t helped, blanking out the whole world except for her attacker, forcing her to focus on him.

Now, though, the situation was getting critical. As her belly stretched and swelled, Ruby clawed desperately at the Beowolf’s underbelly as her lungs screamed for air. Her vision began to go dim, and she wondered if this was how it ended for her? She would never learn the truth about her mom, never live up to her legacy…her path towards being a hero was cut short, used as a disposable cocksleeve to help a Grimm dump some cum and without even being considered worth a single second of consideration towards letting her live to be fucked a second time.

It was that thought that was the final one to cross her mind before darkness overcame her. The last thing she saw was the throbbing nuts of the Beowolf clenching as they pumped another rope of jizz into her guts.

…And then her eyes opened again. She bolted upright, gasping in panic, hands flying to her chest.

She was alive? Ruby looked around her tent. No claw marks, no rips in the walls…she felt a bit bloated, and her throat was sore…but maybe she’d just been breathing through her mouth? And if her sleeping bag had fallen over her face…?

It seemed weak, but it was the only explanation she could think of. Hopefully the stomach thing was just her imagination, she’d hate to have some kind of bug out here.

mind still whirling with shame from the form of her ‘dream’, Ruby uneasily lay back down to sleep.

Outside, red eyes glared at her tent through the undergrowth. A fat Beowolf cock, still dripping with her saliva, twitched in anticipation. The next night would arrive soon enough…

[gashotbox]

Ok I need you to hear me out in this fictional fantasy situation 🧎‍♂️(some dubious consent involved)

I am a lightweight when smoking, so I find the idea of people taking advantage of that kind of hot. But lately I've had this fantasy of going to a friend's house and getting high with them (they're obviously smoking more then I can handle) and their stomach gurgles a bit. They see me blush and have kind of caught on in the past that I might have a fart fetish. So they make a offhand comment about being lazy and not wanting to leave the room to fart because they are having fun, but also not wanting to smell it. I am decently high at this point, so I joke about them sitting on my face so I can take it instead and they go through with it. They sit on my face and start farting on me, and pull their underwear down and tell me to open my mouth. While this is happening they are hitting a joint and I'm hazy, but I open my mouth and they let a few rip in there. After about 20 minutes of this still going on things are feeling waaaay more intense mentally. They stop and look at my stoned ass and say "Aw are you such a lightweight that you're getting high off my farts? You look fucking floored" All I can do is nod and they sit on me again and keep going. And everything is both so calming and intense while they are farting barehole down my throat. They comment about how they are going to be gassy all night, and how I should stay over because there's no way I'm going to sober up enough to get home after being drugged by their farts. They even make an offhand comment about wondering how their shit might effect me like an edible, and I barely process this statement as their hole gapes open more and something solid hits my tongue. This is going to be a very long night.

this is like. so fucking hot. like im positively frothing at the mouth. so sluggish you’re practically swimming in their gas. being so glassy-eyed and hazy from the weed that you can barely do anything more than moan as they bury your face between their cheeks. sleepily mouthing around their putrid hole as they unload; literally just inhaling all their reeking gas like your oxygen because that’s all your body is even capable of doing.😵‍💫 them lazily pushing shit into your lolling mouth as they grunt and moan above you - and there’s nothing you can do about it?? do you even want to do something about it??? think about how nice and sluggish and compliant you feel.. isn’t it nice? now cmon.. just a little wider, baby..

[maigo-san]

zolu kiss post-lu&sopp water 7 duel

“Do what you want with the Merry.”

At this point, Luffy felt raw. Skin aching like he had been through a wringer, his stomach lurching. He never felt this way after a fight before, the pain receding as soon as he stepped away and he was left energized more often than not. Even after being defeated by Ace and Sabo, nursing multiple swelling and deep cuts, never ached this hard.

Winning never tasted so bitter it burned his tongue.

He secured his hat, furrowing his brow, “We’ll get a new ship and move on to the seas ahead!”

Memories of Usopp playing in his head as fleeting as time. But Luffy continued walking forward, not turning back one bit.

“Well then, bye, Usopp…” he’s tired and shaken, the emotions finally welling to the brim as eyes stung. The feeling too familiar for his own good. “It’s been… fun…”

The noises Sanji and Chopper made when they argued were muffled, as Luffy’s tears clouded his eyes. He couldn’t breathe as snot filled up his nose but a part of him could feel Zoro and Nami’s heavy gazes settling on his shoulders like two boulders. Nami felt like a shard edge as she sobbed with disbelief and frustration. Zoro was calmer but heavy, pushing his head down and pinning his feet to the ground.

Luffy strained the words, as his chest ached, “This is a lot…”

He might be talking to himself, or just his first mate, because he was the only one who was present in the moment. That’s why Zoro immediately answered, his voice a pillar in the middle of a storm that was Luffy’s emotional turmoil. “That’s what it means to be a captain, isn’t it?”

“Don’t waver,” Zoro continued. “If you do, who can we believe in?”

Luffy’s shaking hand pulled the brim of his hat to hide his face, finally crying the tears he, for once, was ashamed of spilling.

.

.

They evacuate to an inn somewhere in the city. Luffy was last to walk up the room as everyone unloaded their bags and items. He glanced up at the stairs leading to the rooftop and let his impulse lead him up. He could feel Zoro’s gaze, who was also behind everyone and was dropping a crate of fresh produce. He immediately dropped it by the side of the door and ran after him. Luffy let him because he knew his swordsman had no reason to stop him.

Zoro closed the door as they reached the rooftop, slowly pinning him by the door. His eyes were calm but his lips pursed a bit. Luffy didn’t quite look at him in the face, gaze settling at a particular spot on the rooftop higher than where they stood just across the canal.

“You know, you still smell like rotten eggs,” Zoro mumbled.

Luffy glanced up, unconcerned, “Then, don’t come closer, Zoro.”

He was about to move past the taller man when Zoro held his shoulders and squeezed firmly, taking a step closer as he pressed a nose to Luffy’s cheek. Zoro made a noisy inhale,

“It stinks but I don’t mind the smell, Luffy.”

O-oh… I get it, Luffy buried his face in Zoro’s shoulder as Zoro wrapped his arms around him.

Luffy held his waist tight feeling the urge to cry coming. But Luffy only buried his face deeper into Zoro’s white shirt, brows dropping as hot tears wet a patch of cottoned fabric.

The quiet night grew profound, the water stream under them a still murmur. Zoro's steady heart pulsed him with warmth, one beat at a time. Zoro's scent of sweat and steel was a better companion than his own storming mind.

“Z-Zoro…” Luffy mumbled.

Luffy wanted to explode. With shouts and yells, with questions that piqued the reassurance from Zoro’s baritone voice. He craved Zoro’s presence to wrap around his mind and body like a compression blanket. But he was not good at words when he was utterly emotional and Zoro was not good at reassuring with words and really… words themselves could never articulate the moments they shared together in private.

So, Luffy leaned up, pressing his parted lips on Zoro’s unexpected mouth.

He sighed into Zoro’s nose, invaded his oxygen. Zoro recovered quickly as he pushed deeper until they both fed each other’s hunger with caressing tongues and sucking lips.

Luffy’s body was a floating cloud, white light filling his vision. He was clutching Zoro’s back and tip-toeing when the image of Zoro lying unconscious on the ruins of Shandora emerged and a view of his receding back followed after.

The last one didn’t happen but the fear it invoked came full force, Luffy’s soul felt like it crashed into the concrete ground.

Luffy pulled away from Zoro’s embrace, their lips smacking at the impact as saliva trailed his panting mouth. Zoro opened his eyes wide, but there was no anger or disappointment, only concern concealed behind a cautious look. Luffy reverted his gaze, settling back to the spot he saw earlier.

He pushed past his swordsman, mumbling more to himself, “Thanks Zoro... for making me feel better."

Zoro was still.

"But I want some space.”

Zoro was quiet for a while and Luffy wondered if he had offended the swordsman. Until Zoro turned, voice gentle, “Luffy?”

Luffy looked up and softened his gaze, “I won’t go far. You don’t worry about that. He tugged a thin smile, "Also, I remember what you said. I just think Zoro should rest. Today’s been a lot for everyone.”

Zoro seemed to exhale a relieved breath, shoulders loosened.

Quietly, Luffy stretched his arm and jumped.

[rainyweeds]

Home is where the heart is {Part 1}

Part 0 | Part 1

Pairing: Ao'nung x Fem!Human!Reader

Summary: After finally waking up from cryosleep on Pandora, you quickly realize you're not in the right place. While trying to navigate your location, a certain species of tall aliens take you captive.

Warnings: None for this chapter

A/N: I didn't actually think so many of you guys would want to read this. Anyways I'll have a mini tag list at the end since a few of you guys asked <3 and I'll add you guys to the next part too if you want!

How the hell did you end up here? You were supposed to be in the forest with Grace. This clearly wasn't a forest. The clear body of water surrounded the entire land mass, sandy beaches joining the two together.

There was no way in hell you were in the right place. What even happened while you were asleep? Did Grace know you were alive? Where was the RDA? You began trekking through the wooded area, hoping to find an answer.

The entire island was surrounded by water with no chance of you making it past the reef without drowning. How far were you from the nearest base? You recall Grace once mentioning there were small base units scattered across Pandora. Maybe there was one here?

After remembering all RDA machinery has built in navigators in case of emergencies, you walk back towards the wreckage. The ship was now less than half of its original size. But the question was, how did it even get here? All ISV ships were only supposed to operate in deep space. You were supposed to wake up and be transported on a Valkyrie to the base where you'd meet Grace. So how in the world did the ISV get here?

You entered the ship once again to look for the control panels. Once located, you try to turn them on. But of course, the panel was worn down and rusted. To your dismay, you angrily slam your hands onto the panels. Something you hit must've turned something on because the screen displayed an old recording.

"This is our final log before everything shuts down. The last ship has left and we are hoping this video reaches someone. We need help.

Once the systems shut down, we will have no contact with the RDA headquarters. If anyone gets this, these are our coordinates."

The pilot held up a piece of paper with some numbers on it. Were those coordinates where you ended up? Maybe you could still find everyone else.

"We won't make it. The ones in cryo will. The ship will continue maintaining the people's body temperatures until they either wake up or the ship goes down. But we don't have a chance.

The time is 21:37 and the date is July 15th, 2154. This is Team Beta signing out." The screen goes blank once again."

2154. Two years into your cryo journey. People who underwent cryosleep could stay under for long periods of time and not age. It was scary how long they could remain asleep. But you couldn't have been asleep for more than the six year trip. Right?

You continue to look around what was left of the ship, hoping to find something of use. There were a few extra oxygen masks, an unloaded gun, and a bunch of useless things. You took a spare mask, the gun, and set off into the wooded area of the island. Although you were practically defenceless, the gun could probably act as a threat if you encountered another human.

The jungle was scary to say the least. You continuously looked over your shoulder in case some animal wanted to attack you. And the large roots of the trees cause you to almost roll an ankle. If you could just find a way to leave or contact the other back at the forest, maybe you could make it out alive.

Surprisingly, there weren't many animals on the island, just a few harmless ones wandering around in search of food. And the plants. Oh the plants were more beautiful than any picture you've ever seen. All the vibrant colors seemed to only increase as the hours went on.

Nights on Pandora were known to be dangerous. Grace would always be in the lab at night to protect her and her avatar. But that was in the forest that was probably hundreds if not thousands of miles away. You found shelter under some exposed tree roots, tucking yourself away from the outside.

The sun rose early and the eclipse happened late on Pandora, meaning you had more time to explore your surroundings. You quickly continue your journey to the other side of the island after waking up and realising you were still alive. The hopes of finding other humans being the only thing that kept you going.

The island was huge. Or at least huge for your little human legs because you seemed to be walking for what seemed like forever. The trees finally begin thinning out once you see another strip of beach. This time there were sea creatures swimming around near the shore, splashing about under the sun. You step closer to take a good look at the creatures. They're nothing like any of the creatures you've seen from Grace's research. One of the creatures seems to notice you approach it, swimming closer.

"Hello!" You smile. The cool water now reached your knees as the waves crashed into you. "Can you help me find my way to the forest?" The animal only cocked its head, obviously unable to understand you.

"Who am I kidding, I'm probably going to die soon anyways. This Oxygen mask is only good for a few days. And I only grabbed one extra." You point to the mask tied to your waist.

The creature circles around you as if to examine you. As it does, you notice the handle connecting the two queues together. Someone was riding it. As you reach out to grab the handle, something behind you grabs at your hair and pulls you backwards.

You kick at your captor but with little success. They hold a knife at your neck, effectively stopping you in your tracks. You feel yourself being tied up and pushed forward.

"Olo'eyktan! We found this demon wandering around the ilus." You were harshly shoved forward, causing you to stumble into the sand. Despite the use of their native tongue, you were able to understand the foreign language. Having practiced for years before leaving Earth.

"Skxawng." You mutter. Large hands wrap around your arms, forcing you up to face the na'vi in front of you. The Olo'eyktan. Clan leader. He stood before you, towering over you.

"What is your business here?" He broke the silence.

"I mean no harm. I don't know how I ended up here." You respond with your broken na'vi. It wasn't the best but they seemed to understand you just fine.

"Bring her to the pod. We'll talk later." He waved you off. You were quickly dragged away towards a pod-like room. The warriors threw you into the pod and closed the curtains.

"If you leave, we will have no choice but to kill you."

Great. First you were going to die due to oxygen shortage and now you're going to die by the hands of Pandora's natives. How fun. You sat in the pod, knees brought up to your chest as you thought about how you could have been in the forest by now. Studying plant life with Grace.

You must've dozed off again because the next time you open your eyes, you're tied up again in front of the clan leader and who you can only assume is his mate. The woman steps forward, walking in circles around you, taking in your features.

"Why have you come to us?" She scowled at you.

"I was trying to get to the forest. I don't know how I got here." You watch her grab your hands. Your five fingers look out of place compared to her four.

"Sky people bring nothing but pain to na'vi. We should get rid of it." You were taken aback. More so at the fact that you were just referred to as an 'it' rather than the talk about killing you. You've had too many death scares to be phased at this point.

"I'm telling you. I just want to find Dr. Grace Augustine." You plead. What happened the last time humans came to Pandora to get such a hostile attitude? "I don't mean any harm."

"And who is this 'Grace Augustine." The Olo'eyktan narrowed his eyes at you.

"She's a scientist." You vaguely answer. All you could do was pray to whatever god there was on Pandora that you weren't seen as a threat.

You don't know how you did it, but you managed to make it out of there alive. With the promise to help Ronal, the Tsahik, collect ingredients and run errands, you were able to keep your life. You were brought back to the pod which now doubled as your home to rest. Apparently, there was a family staying on this island that came from the forest. Maybe they could help you.

The salty breeze reminded you of home. How the few remaining beaches would blow the familiar smell into your face. You sighed, stepping out of your pod and walking around the village. The na'vi could only stare at you as you walked by. How could their leader allow a demon to stay?

You found yourself wandering near the shore. The clear water displayed the vast marine life below the surface. One of the creatures from earlier began swimming up to you. An ilu as you learned, was a common mode of transportation among the reef people. Although you could not physically bond with the creature, it seemed to take a liking to you.

"What are you doing with my ilu." You heard a voice coming from behind you. Turning your head, you saw a tall figure. Tattoos covering his arm and face. Despite looking around your age, he towered over you. Sure, he was a completely different species but you liked to think you were tall for a human.

"Sorry it just swam up to me." You move away from the sea creature. The male watching you the entire time. Eyeing you up and down at your awkward movements. You reminded him of a baby. Just learning how to walk. "Well I better go!" You sped away from the scene.

After walking a safe distance, you sit down on a patch of grass in the forest behind the village. Nobody seemed to be around so you finally allowed yourself to breathe. Your mask begins fogging up slightly as you take in deep breaths of oxygen. Everything still felt surreal. What if you were really still in cryo and you were on your way to the forest. No. People don't dream in cryo so that can't be it.

You sigh as you head back towards your marui, na'vi clearing the way as you walk by. As you walk past the beach, you see a dark blue na'vi sitting on the sand. Her short blue hair blowing softly in the breeze. She looks like someone you know.

Like Grace.

"Grace?!" You run up to her. The girl turns her head to you as you run up to her. Shock written on her features. "How come you never told me you were here?" You remember seeing Grace's avatar in the background of the calls every now and then. The girl before you had a striking resemblance. But wasn't Grace supposed to be in the forest?

"How do you know my mothers name?" She glares at you.

The color drains from your face. Grace had a kid? How come you never knew about her? Were you really asleep for that long?

"I'm sorry- you just look like someone I know." You shake your head. There was no way this na'vi was related to Grace. No way in hell. You turn around and walk away, embarrassment evident of your heated cheeks.

"Wait!" She grabs your hand. "How do you know Grace?"

"My mother used to work with her. I was supposed to join her in the forest and research plants with her." You explain. The girl in front of you begins to pull you away as you continue explaining your situation. Soon enough, you find yourself in front of a pod.

"Come." She leads you inside.

When you step inside, you see a man sitting on the floor preparing food. A woman sits beside him. "Father. I brought someone." The girl takes a seat next to the man. He looks up at you, yellow eyes scanning your figure. "She says she knows Grace."

Both adults look at you with wide eyes. "Ma Jake." The woman speaks. Jake? As in Jake Sully?

"Kid?" The male, Jake, mumbles.

Jake would always call you 'kid' when he saw you on call. The nickname brought back memories. "Jake?" You look at the man. The more you look at him, the more he looks like the soldier you once knew. The resemblance was uncanny. "What are you doing here? Where's Grace?" You point to the girl.

"What do you mean where's Grace- What year do you think it is?"

"Isn't it supposed to be 2158?" You quickly do the math in your head. If the video you saw back on the ship took place two years after your journey started, then it should be four years later assuming everything still went smoothly. Jake looked at the woman beside him and then back to you. "What?"

"It's 2173... You were asleep for 15 years..."

A/N: Hi! I really hope you liked part 1 of the series! I have been a bit busy so I delayed the update a little bit but here it is! I'm slowly getting a vague idea on where this series is going so stay tuned! The next update might take a little longer since my weekend is looking a little hectic but I will get it up as soon as possible!

Thank you guys so much for reading and have an amazing day/night! <3

To those who wanted to be tagged: @eywas-heir @sunshinewwx @ducks118 @tiredsoulsorry @thecrazyswamp @ambria @lovekeeho @zeroqueen0555

[alaydabug2]

Tag list: @sparklenarniawizard @imobsessed123 @thoughtlescat @ilikebookssomuch

Broken heart/Broken mind

Chapter Fifty-seven

(Human AU)

Sophie and Keefe met in the children's hospital when they were little. Because of how long they were confined to the four walls of the hospital, they became very close during their stay.

As the years pass, they wind up being in the same classroom together due to their physical conditions. This makes their bond deepen.

But are they able to handle when life gets tough, throwing problems and complications their way?

Sophie forced herself to walk to the lunch table. She knew the conversation she had ahead of her, and she desperately wanted to avoid it.

She sat down beside Dex. Her friends greeted her, then started to unload rumors going around the school.

Her face slowly paled as Marella said, "Yeah, apparently one of the baseball players is in the hospital. I don't know who. It was someone in Mrs. Delani's class who heard this. I don't know how he ended up there, but it was something pretty bad."

Sophie's throat felt thick. She felt like she couldn't speak.

"Hey," Fitz asked. "What's wrong?"

"Keefe," she croaked. "That's him. He's in the hospital."

Everyone at the table dropped what they were doing.

"Is he ok?"

She shook her head. "He had a heart attack yesterday morning. I found out after lunch, and Edaline checked me out of school to go see him. He hasn't woken up yet," her voice broke.

The tears started spilling over again. She tried to smear them away, but they were replaced with more. The looks on her friends faces tipped her over the edge. They looked like they just saw a puppy being run over.

Dex wrapped his arms around her. She turned and sobbed into his shoulder. Sophie knew she needed to keep it together, but she just couldn't.

The rest of lunch was spent with her and her friends trying to process what had happened. At the end of the day, she jumped into her car and started driving to the children's hospital, which was thirty minutes away.

When she stepped into the lobby, her legs shook. Everything was trembling by the time she clicked the button on the elevator to go up. She took deep breaths to calm her nerves.

Sophie paused when she got to the door. She counted to three to prepare herself for the horrid sight.

When she opened the door, her eyebrows rose when Ro was already sitting in a chair beside Keefe's bed, with red eyes. She wasn't necessarily surprised she was here to see her brother. She just didn't think she would be here at this time.

"Hey," Ro murmured.

Sophie took a seat on the opposite side of the bed. "Hey. How are you holding up?"

She shrugged. "You?"

She shrugged back.

Sophie gently stroked Keefe's face, avoiding the oxygen mask over his mouth. They stayed sitting in the quiet until Ro muttered something under her breath.

"If he doesn't end up ok, I am going to kill my parents." She looked up. "This isn't even a joke, I'm going to end up on trial."

Sophie frowned. "Why."

"Just... for treating him like crap his entire life." Ro took Keefe's hand and gently squeezed it. She sighed. "I'm going to tell you something, but you have to swear to not repeat this."

She nodded. "I swear."

"Good." Ro's eyes trailed up to Keefe's face. Her gaze softened. "Ok, I'm just gonna say this, we're fourteen years apart. That wasn't on purpose."

Sophie nodded. "I figured that was the case, but I always thought that you were the... well." She cringed.

Ro shook her head. "Nope. They only wanted one kid. They were already in their forties when he was born."

"Forties?" Sophie blurted out

Ro snorted. "They're on a first name basis with the botox lady." Her face fell. "But that's why they're so awful to him. They never even wanted him. And, well..."

"What?" She murmured.

She shifted. "Mom drank a lot when she was pregnant with him, even though she wasn't supposed to. Pretty sure she even blacked out on it once or twice." Ro went back to staring at her brother. "Sometimes I blame that for why he has health issues now. I don't have any direct proof, but..."

"It's plausible," Sophie chimed in.

She nodded. "She seemed to even drink more than she did, usually. Sometimes, I even think she was trying to..." She trailed off, and Sophie had to block the horrible thought from finishing inside her head.

"But," Ro sighed and propped her head in her hands. "I don't have proof for any of it. It's not going to do any good."

Sophie was quiet. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to add to that. She decided to nod her head to leave Ro to interpret it how she pleased.

Eventually, she had to ask, "Is he in a coma?"

"Not necessarily a coma," Ro tried to explain. "But because of how much trauma his body went through, it needs time to recoup before he wakes up."

"When do you think that will be?"

"I'm not sure, Blondie," Ro whispered. "I'm not sure."

[swaps55]

Mezzo - 05 - Glass of Gasoline

Pairing: mshenko | Rating: M Tags: Canon-typical violence, trauma, dealing with your problems poorly, body autonomy struggles   Summary: The twists and turns of ME2, through the eyes of everyone but Commander Shepard. Chapter Summary: Omega lets Sam Shepard off the chain.   Thank you to @sinvraal for betaing!

Chapter 5: Glass of Gasoline | Read on Ao3

02 November 2185, Omega Nebula, Sahrabarik System, Omega

Shepard shouldn’t be struggling with biotics. The implant insertion had been flawless. Every scan showed it was communicating with his nervous system exactly as designed. If anything, the biosynthetic fibers used to repair his nervous system should improve his ability to tap the gravity well, and the advancements in implant technology should increase the strength of his fields considerably.

He shouldn’t be struggling.

Perhaps this should not be troubling Miranda more than Shepard nonchalantly agreeing to stroll across a bridge dressed as a mercenary, in plain view of a vigilante shooting anyone who comes into scope, but thankfully Archangel isn’t stupid. The moment Shepard puts a shotgun into the back of a Blue Sun and opens fire, not one sniper bullet strikes his shields.

Archangel is indeed in trouble, just as Aria told them, and those who are drowning tend not to question lifelines.

Except Shepard, who has questioned everything Miranda has offered. Her attempts to ask about the implant’s performance have been swiftly rebuffed, but she can feel every futile twist and churn he makes in the gravity well. At best his corona is no more than a pale glimmer, a weakening flame desperately seeking oxygen.

It was perfect. You were perfect.

Well, not quite. The scarring still remains. Easily repairable if she still had access to the Lazarus lab, less so on the Normandy, but still possible. A few more weeks, and that, too, would have been rectified. There would have been no visible sign of her work. 

Damn Wilson and his short sightedness.

Shepard has been right at her fingertips for two years. Height, weight, body temperature, blood pressure, heart rate, metabolic rate, all of it. She is more intimately familiar with the body of Sam Shepard than she ever will be with a lover.

But she has no baseline for him.

Even without the biotics, he still fights like the Alliance’s hero. Alliance Ns are a sight to behold, and all of Shepard’s muscle memory remains intact. He is swift, brutal, with no fanfare or showmanship. Just a hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips that chills her right to the bone whenever she glimpses it behind his faceplate.

Miranda is well-equipped to handle herself but she is no soldier, and this is a battlefield. For all her skills and all her training, it is Jacob and Massani, the former Blue Sun with a grudge they had recruited upon arrival at Omega, who carry the weight of the fight.

She checks the right corner as they enter the ground floor of the shipping warehouse where Archangel chose to make his stand, gagging at the sickening rot of death inside. Blood stains the floor, some blue, some red. A row of bodies lie hastily covered under tarps. Scouring mars the walls, with overturned furniture forming a hasty barricade. 

She is so caught on the sight of it all she doesn’t spot the mercenary on her left until Shepard yanks her out of the way and unloads with his pistol. A body hits the ground with a thud and a squelch. She didn’t see him switch to the pistol from his shotgun. Surely there hadn’t been time. But the man who would have killed her now lies in a pool of his own blood, and Shepard is already moving up a set of stairs towards Archangel’s perch on the second floor, her brush with death already forgotten.

“Massani, watch the entrance,” he barks over his shoulder.

“Goddamn right,” Massani replies, checking his heat sink. Combat is comfortable on him, like being in his armor is more natural than being out of it. But he still wears it, unlike Shepard.

Shepard becomes it.

Read from the beginning | Read the rest on Ao3 | The Mezzo Playlist

[peacexatxlast]

Thomas Shelby; I'm Here

I had plans for this to be smutty... But then it took another direction and became angst with an inkling of fluff if you squint. This is my first fic of him, so if you enjoy it, let me know if you want a part two with smut? Or just give me some feedback! Thankss xx

Word count: 1,500 ish Summary: Thomas' wife has a nightmare, and once again... he's working. Warnings: Ahhh, not much. Angst! Might be swearing, I don't remember.

She had grown accustomed to sleeping alone. More accurately, falling asleep alone and almost always waking up with the ghost of comfort and warmth lingering where her husband once lay. Lately, that ghost had turned into her envy. That damned apparition getting more of her attention, lying by her side than her own partner did. Speaking to him at night more often than she had spoken to him in months. Whether or not he actually slept beside her anymore was a mystery, for she would only occasionally rouse from her slumber when the bed shifted and the scent of whiskey and cigarettes engulfed her. She used to despise the scent. It was all she had now, feeling like home in many ways. 

Sex had become a fading memory of her marriage vows. To have and to hold… so long as Thomas Shelby deemed appropriate. Whenever he had time in his busy schedule. Whenever the stress of life became so burdensome he needed to unload it upon her in a quick and passionless fuck. She never complained. She never turned him away. Any time spent under his attention was time well spent. It gave her hope. 

She dreamt that night. Alone, the only warmth was wrapped against her body in a blanket. It did little to melt the ice within her subconscious. In this state of catatonia her brows furrowed and body curled into a fetal position to return to the protection only offered while being inside of her mothers womb or being wrapped in the arms of the most dangerous man alive. A man's heart was a wretched thing. Her mother's womb stretched and made room for her, but her husband's heart would not bleed for her nor separate room for her from his work.

It was snowing in her dream. Her bare feet trod through the white tundra, and yet she felt nothing. She supposed that her concern for her husband outweighed the frostbite threatening her inside of this facade. She could see only the outline of his person, and no matter how far she traveled, no matter how quickly she ran and called for him, Thomas never was reached. Even when her breath suffocated her with each exasperated attempt to capture oxygen in her lungs, she got no nearer to him than the three hundred steps that passed. Another three hundred. And another. He was still only a silhouette of something she needed but could get to. 

“Thomas! Behind you!” The storm of snow had silenced her shriek, and the shadow of death closed in on her husband. She ran faster, tripping and rising again and again. She screamed for him. She begged his attention. She was too late, too slow, the gun rising and just as the grim reaper pulled the trigger-

She woke up with a cry. Sweat coated her forehead, hair sticking to the side of temples. Alone. She was alone. The whistle of the wind whipped at the window. It was snowing. Fear crept into her ribs, slithering around her lungs and squeezing. It drove her to her feet, wrapping herself in silk and thrusting the door open. “Just a dream… just a dream…” the mutter followed her downstairs, towards the office door where she knew he would be. She knew it; she had to see it. 

His eyes, though vacant and tired, reassured her of his safety in the house. Her gaze went past him, and there was no shadowy figure threatening him. Only himself. 

“It’s late. What’s wrong?” His pen stilled, and annoyance settled within her. What was wrong? This. All of this. Him. Her. The lack of him in their wedding bed. How could he not see the drift of their marriage? Did he see it and simply not care? 

“I had a dream. You weren’t in bed. I wanted to make sure…” She trailed off, closing the distance until the desk was all that separated them. “That you were alright.” It was only for a moment, but she swore that something crossed over his features. It had to be her imagination. She hadn’t seen anything other than absence in his eyes for months. 

“I’m alright. Just have a few letters to finish. I’ll be up in a minute, love. Go back to bed.” Up in a minute. She had heard that one too many times to believe it to be true. 

“Tommy…” Her cry came much quieter than in her nightmare. She could see him, though she didn’t dare reach out and touch him in fear of being thrown back by the wind and snow just as in her dream. “Please come to bed. You can leave when I fall back asleep. Come back down here to your wife and leave your mistress in bed.” She smiled despite the truth hidden in her statement. There was that brief expression of emotion upon his brows, furrowing at her comment. Guilt twitched against her lips, burning her tongue at how she’d possibly offended him. Even so, he stood. 

“Alright, Mrs. Shelby. I’m coming.” 

His hand grounded her from floating away, clinging tightly to the only thing she had left. Her mother had passed away three years prior to meeting Tommy and even then it was impossible to crawl back into her womb for comfort. He was all she had… 

Passing through the threshold of their bedroom, he stopped her. Pulled into his chest, withholding her from the mattress where sleep would capture her into a cold hug, she wished to be nowhere but wrapped in his embrace. Hands trailed up his chest, undoing the buttons of his waistcoat. He hadn’t even changed or visited his wife since coming home. From one office to the next. But now he was here, her nails soothing down his scalp to rest at the back of his neck. He tasted like cigarettes when he kissed her. She swore she licked the remnants of sorrow off of his bottom lip, the bitter likeness to whiskey reminding her of one of his vices. His words, however, were coated in regret. That was unmistakable. “My wife.” 

She swallowed, gaze moving from his lips to his eyes. His lips spoke lies far too often for her to trust them, but his eyes never misguided her. “Have you just remembered?” Nails drag along the back of his scalp, soothing the stress from his day with each melancholic stroke. He sighed, and again her guilt tightens her stomach into a knot. It was a woman’s duty to make a man’s life easier, not harder. Though she simply couldn’t help it. She was hardly his wife more so than a whore sleeping in his bed… He had many of them. At least they never were permitted to spend the night. Sleep in the cold bed. Was that a curse or a blessing? 

“I’ve been busy. It will be over soon.” Vacant promises assaulted her, and she no longer felt she could contain her distress. 

“I dreamed of death, Thomas.” Fingers trailed across his neck to cup his face, “It came for you. It came for you, and I couldn’t stop it. I tried, I tried so desperately to reach you but-but- I couldn’t!” 

His own hands found her face in return, shushing her soft outburst. “I’m here; I’m right here.” The blue in his eyes pierced her deeply, the cold shard of ice digging into her chest. Even in his absence he would find a way to secure a piece of himself into her being. The ice would melt, seeping into her bloodstream and mingling with her DNA; he was a part of her. She wanted to be a part of him. 

“I see you, but you’re not here with me. Where have you gotten lost, my love? Come home to me.” The rough pad of his thumbs swiped at the silent drops of torment slipping down marbled flesh. Gears were churning beyond his perplexed stare. The air within her lungs stilled to a faint whisper, searching for the metallic clanking of the ridges shifting and clicking into one another. Silence. He only breathed, shaking his head softly in a dumbfounded ignorance. 

“I’m here,” from the mouth of a liar came his subtle plea, begging her to drop the topic. They held each other, foreheads pressed in a holy union to bind two lonely and lost souls once again to one another. It occurred to her then that maybe this was their problem: they didn’t attempt to connect their sloughed minds nearly often enough. 

Her chest deflated with a sigh, sealing her lips together before she spoke to keep the negative response from slipping from her thoughts. Her husband was a busy man. His work was laid on the desk there for him downstairs, and yet he had stopped to come and see her to sleep. She tugged him with her as she backed away, guiding him towards the bed to where she would finally fall asleep with a body laying next to her again.  “Okay, Thomas. Be here then. With me, please.” 

[bellasimos]

Kinktober Day 9 Size Difference (Simon x Lillie)

Simon x Lillie (OC)

AO3 ( x ) Words Count: 715 Kinktober Masterlist [ x ]

Note: English is not my first language but I tried my best to edit and change grammar that makes sense.

There was just a difference between him and her; he just knew that. Simon, big and scary man ever known to soak the blood of people that he causes. All for a mission, to protect people; his hand carries many, many deaths. He is not soft, nor tender, he has a job. Simple enough to remind others of what he is capable of doing.

But that was not the case at the moment, no, his own brown eyes observed her. With every intense, every need to do. He becomes soft, vulnerable for her; too precious for him. He was afraid to harm her, afraid to commit a wrong move and she disappeared from his life. No, that is something that he does not want to do, nor ever dream to. But, dispute, he knows that he well deserves in the end if ever comes to that.

His large hand, rough with scar that tells a lot of stories. Caressed on her waist, their size is so different. She is small, a bit fragile but has a strong face to endure whatever life throws at her. He dares to recall how long Lillie endured with her previous marriage. Clearly the one who she was forced upon. It took a lot of courage, no, not courage, a reason for her to leave. She didn’t stay in that ex-marriage because of manipulation. She waited, perfectly, to leave. Divorce and all, only to then end up in his bed, with her small, soft hands on his chest.

“Beautiful.” Simon murmured, his hip rotated in slow force, earning a few gasp moans from her.

Her wall tightened around his cock, so perfect yet tight, small. He made sure that she was well prepared to take him in. To adjust his girth size, he let his attention slip to see her fold eagerly suck his cock in. Listening to her soft whimper while her nails marked his chest.

“So small, yet you perfectly handle this.” Simon encourages her, truly admiring her.

“Simon. Fuck, you’re too big.” Lillie praises him with her moans, barely able to focus on him.

Simon chuckled, leaned down to capture her lips with him. Only to then break the kiss apart for just a moment. “Yes but you’re the perfect fit for me, dove.”

He trailed his lips on her skin, pampering with kisses on her neck. The size of his height overshadows her, only Lillie can see him. Her heterochromia eyes held admiration, he swore that he saw some twinkles along with it. Simon loves to see it, loves her expression. He knew that they were meant to be, despiste he had lied over his death to protect her.

“My sweet, sweet Lillie.” Simon groans, pushing his cock deeper in as he feels the warm and tightness all in once.

“I’m close… Simon, oh fuck.” Lillie moans to respond, her arms wrapped around his shoulder.

“That’s it, love. Come for me, come-fuck.” He grunted, slamming harder with his hips until he held back, wanting her to come first.

In the cue, her ecstasy moans fill the room along his name. Simon followed as he unloaded his seed inside. Heavy and sticky yet knew she is satisfied. He waited for her to regain her self consciousness, before withdrawing his cock out of her cunt. Simon then slowly lay down next to her, placing his hand on her stomach as he caressed with his thumb.

“You alright?” Lillie muttered, slowly regaining her oxygen but can still speak.

“Yeah, you? Was I too rough?” Simon asks, he holds her gaze for a little longer.

Lillie rolled over before cupping her hand on his cheek, her lips pressed on him. A soft, indulging sweet kiss that he loves so much. The kiss ended as she smiled at him. “Too perfect, Si. I just got used to you and your big friend.”

Simon let out a heartfelt chuckle, he moved his hand from her stomach to her hips as he gave a soft squeeze. “Good, how about I go warm up the bath and we soak in it?”

“I love that idea, Si.” She answered, pulled her hands away from his face.

Simon immediately grabbed her hand as he planted each of his kisses on her knuckles. “Anything for my girl.”

©bellasimos I do not allow my works being modify, translate, adapted, copied or being posted in other website without my permission

[lainpsx]

wanted to make a vent post about my asthma attack yesterday and how my mom handled it.

we were driving home for 3 hours from the airport. my step-father is near deaf and was not wearing his hearing aids. he was blasting country music the entire ride, at around 45 volume (LOUD). He is impatient and was shouting at us throughout the ride, driving recklessly.

My step-sister was in the front seat, vaping with the windows closed. I had been struggling with my asthma the entire day throughout the airport, and I could feel it getting worse over the car ride. I did not realize she was vaping until around halfway through the drive, and started trying to get her attention.

I kept trying and trying to call her name, but she could not hear me with her headphones on. When I started to tap her and call her name louder, my mom told me she was on a phone call and not to do it.

Finally, she finishes her phone call and I tell her that she needs to stop vaping or puff it out the window because it is making my asthma get worse. She says okay and stops.

Around 40 minutes away from home, I realize that my asthma was not improving but getting worse. I had used my emergency inhaler around 6 times at that point. I tell my mom that I am beginning to have an asthma attack. She just keeps looking at Facebook. Twenty minutes later she tells my step-father that he needs to take me home first because I am having an attack. He does not acknowledge her at all (clearly did not hear!). My step-sister notices too and tells my step-father, who again does not respond.

My mom keeps asking me to breathe slower, to drink water, and to calm down. IF I COULD BREATHE SLOWER I WOULD. IF I COULD BREATHE THEN I COULD CALM DOWN. I cannot drink water because I cannot hold a breath long enough to get it down without choking. She continues to ask and ask when I do not respond because I can hardly speak.

By this point, I am seriously struggling to breathe and can feel my legs, arms, and face going numb as the oxygen in blood lowers. Nobody makes any attempt to speak louder so he can hear or to tap him on the shoulder to get his attention. We arrive at our town, and he makes a turn opposite my house and towards his own house.

I ask him, out of breath, where he is going, and he says that he is dropping off his luggage. Nobody makes any protest. My mom is still looking at Facebook. He pulls into the driveway and begins leisurely unloaded the car. My step-sister goes to her car and he goes to her window and says to drive safe & text him when she gets home.

My mom walks over to him and tells him to hurry, but she says it in such a light tone that he does not hear. He continues talking to the step-sister. At this point I realize no one is going to help me so I use all my strength to get out of the car and walk to him. I tap him and use all my power to shout that he needs to get me home right now or I will need to go to the hospital. He shouts back at me that nobody told him. My mom yells at me to say that I am not helping and that I should know he is deaf. We get in the car and I continue to worsen.

Nobody calls my father to tell him that I am in critical condition, so I call him myself and whisper to get my cane and nebulizer ready. We finally get home and he helps me. After using the nebulizer and an hour of rest I recover.

[tempestaslokni]

The Chaos After the Storm

ft. Darcy and Akhila below the cut: Location: The Medcenter

Waking up had never been a bad experience for Lokni, he was more naturally inclined towards being an early-riser. This time, however, was much different. His whole body ached, like he had spent an entire workday of just unloading and reloading hay trucks. His mouth was so dry, like he hadn't drank anything for days. Although sunlight was streaming in through the window, he felt as if he had hardly rested at all, like his body was still on the edge of sleep.

Blearily he shifted his gaze over his surroundings. Lokni recognized the white, sterile roof, as well as the lights that seemed a little too bright, no warmth in that light. He was in the med center. Again.

But why?

His vision came to settle on a fuzzy figure that slowly came into focus. It was Darcy. The memories all began to trickle back, like a crack in a dam, before beginning to pour into his mind. Trying to sit up, he began to speak, his voice rough, and betraying just how exhausted he was. "Why am I here? What happened?" Lokni said, clutching his head as his own voice echoed uncomfortably within his skull. There was someone else there… "Akhila?" Although his vision was still blurry, he could tell by her silhouette, her short hair framing her angular face and features. It would have made sense to anyone, but in that moment, Lokni wasn't quite all there.

As he sat up, all of his muscles groaned in protest, and eventually he gave up, letting his back slam into the metal bars of the cot, which echoed metallically. He didn't even have the energy to make any sound of discomfort. Parched he began slowly, his breath like claws raking over his raw throat, "could I have some water, please?"

Darcy's legs were moving in a speedy, up and down movement, but she didn't even realize it. She was exhausted, could probably fall asleep in a moment if she really allowed herself (which was already something unusual for her), but she didn't even register it (also didn't let Akhila take a look at her either, she was fine, she was always just fine). She was sitting curled up on a chair, watching Lokni, telling herself that he'd wake up. That it was the lightning, the stress of maybe starting to realize that things were so strange around here and they were real, the stress of missing his mom and his life and all of it coming to the surface. Her pushing it all to the surface.

Lokni needed to wake up. He just needed to. Darcy couldn't handle one more person…

But no, this was different. This had to be different.

After what felt like a lifetime, Lokni shifted and his eyes fluttered open and Darcy felt like a whole mountain rolled off of her shoulders. "Akhila, he's waking up!" she called out to the other woman who just momentarily stepped out of the room, and then scrambled up from the chair, going over to Lokni, "Hey, it's okay, you're okay. Well, I'm not actually educated enough to make that assessment, but you're in good hands. You're in the medicenter, Akhila is making sure you're all good."

Her hands hovered near him as he sat up, but he didn't need help - or more like Darcy wasn't sure if he wanted hers after what happened. She looked over at Akhila for a moment and then stepped back. "I'll get you the water, Akhila can check you out."

There was a growing pattern regarding those who were bouncing back to the centre. Akhila knew there was far more chance of it being coincidental. That being said, Akhila felt an unnatural bloom of worry as Darcy appeared with a slumped over Lokni. There was a definitive difference between him, and the others that erred towards hypochondriacs. No less that he was unresponsive and Darcy looked impossibly more strained than usual. Akhila hadn’t left either of them, she’d hovered over him, triple checking his airways. It was certainly one thing for her to make educated guesses, but another for him to return to her catatonic.

It was an unfathomable puzzle because his blood oxygen levels were reading normal. Akhila hovered over him, deliberating whether to wheel out another canister—did they even have another? He was breathing without assistance, but there was a raw edge. His heart rate was well within normal ranges. Yet he was entirely unresponsive. Akhila came to the conclusion it was better to be safe than sorry, she could quickly fetch oxygen whilst Darcy lingered like an omen in a bedside armchair. She told her as much, and took approximately seven long strides out of the room before Darcy called for her.

She flew back. Darcy had sprung up, and had now taken up the mantle of leaning over him. “There’s cups and a dispenser in the reception area.” Akhila informed her. Moving to take up the space beside Lokni’s bed, she clipped the oxygen monitor back onto his finger. “You’re back again.” She’d meant it in jest, but the joke landed flat with her starched delivery. Akhila swiftly moved back to stern as he attempted a leap of freedom. “Take it easy…” She pressed the back of her hand lightly to his forehead, and exhaled noisily through her nose. “Darcy is fetching you water. Lokni do you know where you are?” Start simple, now he was awake the ragged peaks of his breathing were glaringly evident. She’d have to send Darcy to fetch the oxygen too.

Darcy’s voice reverberated throughout his skull as she called for Akhila. Her next words came out like a waterfall, too fast for Lokni to be able to put together in his current state. Akhila was there, checking over him, the friendly gaze that he had come to know from their time fishing together replaced with the one of a professional in their element. Under normal circumstances, he would have been nervous, but at this point he was too exhausted to do much aside of focusing on breathing and staying awake. The exhaustion clung to him like the clutch of winter’s chill, sinking deep into his bones, making his joints ache in ways that he hadn’t felt in years.

Even as his vision swam in and out of focus, he knew Akhila’s voice, recognized what she was asking, “I’m- I’m in the medcenter. Again,” a weak nod of the head in acknowledgment followed, “sorry for the trouble,” he mumbled, his own breath painful against his raw throat and tongue slow like a drunkard’s. There he was, causing her more problems. He was fine, really, he just needed some sleep- his head bobbed as he nearly went back under, but the sound of Akhila giving orders to Darcy brought him back from the edge of sleep.

When Darcy came back with a cup of water he drank deeply, breathing loudly through his nose like he had done as a kid coming in after a summer’s day of playing outside. It felt as if he hadn’t drank anything in days, as if the moisture in his body was expended. When he downed the cup, he turned to Darcy, wiping his chin, “thank you… how did I end up here?”

Darcy has brought Lokni to Akhila for a reason, and yet once Lokni woke up, all Darcy wanted to do was hover and do something even though she was fairly incompetent, she was aware of it.

So she forced herself to step back, spring into action and went to get the water for Lokni, arriving back with a big cup of it just in time to hear Akhila mention that Lokni was here again. The worry spiked even though this was a whole new thing and Darcy pushed it down. What happened to him before was all fine probably, and now he would be fine. Just because of what happened just before she got here - in the simulation, no less, so it wasn't even real, she reminded herself -, it didn't mean anything, especially not that this was all the same. Not at all, for plenty of reasons.

"Here, some water," she handed the cup over to him with an encouraging small smile - him downing it at was a good sign. "I got you here after you-- well, you kinda collapsed on the beach. Didn't want to leave you alone to get help, so I got you back here to Akhila for some help." She was over-simplyfying things, every step was a struggle to get him from the obsidian beach, but he didn't need to hear that now, or just how exhausted she still felt from it. "Akhila, is there anything else I can do to help?" she turned to the other woman instead. "Do you need anything to check him out?"

Akhila observed him, his speech slurried together in a way that was alarming, combined with the spiderlike patterns of raised red. She clicked her tongue, about to tell him not to apologise but Darcy had returned with water. Lokni drank heavily, she pursed her lips to tell him to drink slower. Before she could interject with Darcy’s retelling, Lokni had finished. “Yes, Darcy I need you to fetch an oxygen canister. There’re two in examination room B.” The one she’d spliced off for seeing patients, away from her living quarters. “Green top, it has wheels.” Akhila took the empty cup from him. “Quick about it.” Akhila ordered, incase her steeled over gaze didn’t amass to the urgency for Darcy.

The small ward had a cupboard at one end, and sink. She washed her hands first, gloved and then retrieved a new sterilised mask. “Right Lokni you’ve done this before for me.” She informed him, returning to his bedside. “Slow, deep and steady breaths when you have the mask on. First I need your arm.” Akhila tenderly lifted his right arm, she removed the pulse oximeter, and wrapped the cuff around his bicep. “Bit of pressure.” She announced, already pumping it up by hand. He was a touch low, but nothing that couldn’t be remedied with additional slow fluids in a normal scenario. Unfortunately, this simply wasn’t within the realms of normal.

“How’re you feeling?” She asked, slipping the cuff off and replacing the oximeter. On Darcy’s return she began attaching the relevant pieces, and unwrapping the fresh mask for Lokni to wear. “Remember slow breaths please…count to seven if you can.” Akhila gestured for Darcy to grab another pillow. “Help me prop him up.” She barked, some attempt made to keep her voice down in the close confines of an empty ward. Akhila prayed, silently, he’d suffered no intracerebral hemorrhage, but the clamminess was suggesting otherwise. Shit.

Obediently, Lokni followed Akhila's instructions groggily, raising a heavy arm for her to wrap the cuff around his bicep. "Thank you," he groaned. Her hand felt warm against his skin, and he couldn't help but wonder just how cold he felt to her. Those thoughts trailed off however, as she lifted a mask to his face. Not wanting to cause any more trouble than he already had, his eyes fluttered shut and he began taking deep, long breaths, holding them for a time before exhaling through his nose.

'Count to seven?'Lokni thought skeptically, but attempted to do so nonetheless. As he did so, Darcy recounted how she had "got you here after you- well, you kinda' collapsed on the beach." All of this new information was a blur to him, the actions of those around him almost felt a space ahead, like he was behind in physically occurring time. He had fallen? On the beach of all places? A brief memory of a great flash resonated within his mind, bringing back the pain of the moment. Clutching his shoulder, he peeled back the half-charred fabric of his shirt to reveal the strangest pattern of scarring he had ever seen. It was red and angry, the skin raised and irritated. It almost looked like little vines tracing across where his veins were. Lokni swallowed deeply, not fully understanding the weight of what this meant.

The beach? He thought groggily, what happened at the beach? Snippets began to come to him. The argument. The storm. The lightning. As Akhila asked for Darcy to help prop him up, Lokni fought his protesting muscles until he was upright in a sitting position. "I need you to tell me," he said slowly, leveling his gaze at Darcy, "just what the hell happened back there on that beach." At the time of the strike, Lokni had been between Darcy and the shore. The flash had hit behind the both of them. Had he absorbed the shock?

Akhila ordering her around was probably the best for Darcy, she jumped to get the oxygen mask for her (hesitating momentarily to make sure she grabbed the right thing), and then jumped at the chance to come help get Lokni propped up, her eyes on the scarring on his shoulder, only now seeing it in full. He still had the charred clothes on him before, not ever thinking it would be this obvious, this-- detailed, if a scar could ever be detailed.

And then Lokni asked what happened. Darcy blinked, took a glance over at Akhila, almost as if she was asking if it was even a good idea, but she replied before Akhila could give her any indication. It's not like it would be any help, keeping it from him. "I was telling you about all the different things others could do, or at least what I've seen them do. Selin with the size change, me with the zapping. You started to get… upset? Overwhelmed? I'm not quite sure.

"A storm formed around you, kind of mirroring your emotions." Probably not kind of, but she tried to soften what happened a little bit at least. "And then I called all of the powers exciting and that definitely made you upset. You yelled at me. And that's when the lightning struck and you passed out." Darcy paused, intentionally not looking at Akhila still, just focusing on Lokni instead. "Honestly, it all felt like the storm was your doing. Your emotions reflecting right onto it. It all stopped pretty quickly once you passed out. And then--" she gave a small shrug, "well, then I got you back here."

Akhila was too late to stop him from peeling away the fabric. She’d tentatively wanted to leave it––but what exactly was she supposed to do in this scenario? Everything was reading slightly out of sorts, but within the realms of what might be considered normal. His breathing was hard, but he was doing so without need for intubation. She hoped the oxygen would help, especially if the effects had aggravated his prior condition. Akhila worried her lip, and muttered. “Don’t touch Lokni.” Directed at him, in particular, as she knew that Darcy had been well-enough behaved for the last few hours.

Selin with size changes, Akhila needed to pull Darcy aside later and query this. There was significantly bigger fish to fry right now. Yet, Darcy kept going, feeding him nonsense on nonsense. “Enough of that.” Akhila snapped at her. “Stop with that nonsense.” She hissed, dropping her voice in the hopes that Lokni wouldn’t hear her. Akhila dismissed Darcy, she would deal with her later, by pointedly not looking at her. Instead, Akhila moved to the end of the bed, they’d removed his shoes to make him comfortable. Gingerly Akhila lifted his sock, it came away freely, without the skin sticking. She touched her fingers to the sole of his feet. “Can you feel that Lokni?”

There were far more intricate problems to face into, ones of a delicate nature that Akhila didn’t know how to broach. “Any pins and needles anywhere?” Akhila wished she could defer to a specialist, her knowledge was sparse and unstructured. Every step was about taking the next logical leap. It would be days before they could test to see if he had any cognitive decline as a result of this. He was alive, but really, at what cost? Akhila finally, turned back to Darcy with her voice a hushed murmur. “Being honest…I don't know how he survived, he should've gone into cardiac arrest, not just unresponsive.”

Under normal circumstances, Lokni's foot would have been ticklish, but he was too drained to really do much else aside from focusing on breathing and keeping his eyes open. "I don't feel anything. Usually, I'm ticklish though." Listening to Akhila, who had just told him not to touch the scarring, he lowered the hem of his shirt. That was gonna' leave a nasty mark, he thought absentmindedly. Everything felt so surreal, like his consciousness was hovering over his body, barely attached by a minuscule, invisible thread; as faint as a spider's web. The mask that Akhila held to his face made that sensation fade a bit, anchoring him into his own body.

Darcy's words were… distressing, to say the least. Mirrored my emotions? Lokni pondered her words mentally. Was that true? Or was it just how she had perceived things to be? Similar to how she had thought this whole situation to be "exciting."The thought made Lokni feel a bit nauseous. "The storm stopped? Well, I guess that's a positive," he began to chuckle, which made him cough lightly. Choosing to focus on the last part, Lokni raised a skeptical eyebrow, "but how? I'm heavy." His voice was a low mumble, thought the water was helping to a degree.

When Akhila snapped at Darcy, it reminded Lokni of a mother bear shielding her cubs from danger. Was that all he was now? Some cub that couldn't even take care of himself. A ragged sigh escaped his dry lips. Akhila had turned to say something to Darcy, something that Lokni couldn't quite pick up, but judging by the look on Akhila's face, it couldn't have been good.

This was the worst possible time for Darcy's brain to momentarily go "Akhila is hot when she's stern", especially considering she also got annoyed at the fact that she was trying to shut her down, calling what happened nonsense and all - Darcy decided to focus on that. "It's not nonsense, Akhila, it's what happened. You might not believe it but that doesn't change facts. Some of which are still on his body, visible," she couldn't help but point out the scar.

She gave Lokni a smile an another shrug when he asked how she managed to get him here. "Guess not as heavy as you'd think. Maybe I could have pushed you up to that upper deck after all," she gently teased, thinking back to their first meeting, how they ended up separated on that ship. Darcy never would have guessed she could even help prop him up a deck, let alone get him across the island. "Honestly it was probably the adrenaline after what happened that helped me do it. I knew you needed help but running back here and getting Akhila back to the beach, leaving you alone that long didn't seem like the smart choice. And we still would have had to get you back here anyway."

When Akhila pulled Darcy away, she glanced over at Lokni and then back at the woman trying to keep her face steady. "Which would even support him doing it all somehow. If he has control and is connected to the storm, it could have protected him from that specifically. But isnt it something he should know?" Which really just reminded her and she looked back over to Lokni, "Lokni, how does it feel? Your scar?" It couldn't have been just a simple scar with pains, there had to be more to it, and if it was bad enough of a hit it should have killed him, maybe the scar was the key.

Akhila observed, her hand withdrawing as Lokni declared loss of sensation and cemented her fears regarding his nerve endings. Trouble was mounting, and Darcy was practically carefree as she informed her of the severity. Batting back her concerns that Lokni was the epicentre of it all––and thus, that had relieved him of the worst effects. Akhila worried her lip, there was some plausibility to her theories, Akhila loathed to admit it. However, Darcy’s abstract was not within the realms of reason. If she entertained this line of thinking, Akhila supposed there might be a shred of fantasy-logic to it. Darcy powered ahead, drilling Lokni on how his burns felt.

That was half of it, they should be fresh burns, with a sticky-tacky quality, but the markings had already moved beyond scabbing in some areas. Scar tissue forming with a spider-like quality from the tips of his toes, to his naval. He was healing at a rate of naughts, but then Akhila had seen that elsewhere. Craig had demonstrated that by shirking out of his sling far too early, and whimsically declaring he no longer felt any pain. “One moment…” Akhila left in a flurry, she’d been solely reliant on manual observation methods. In her contemplation, Akhila recalled a storage cupboard that had appeared to be a graveyard of monitors.

She felt foolish for not dragging it out sooner, but half the battle would be interpreting the results. How she longed to have Greene at her side. Akhila wheeled the ECG machine through the corridor and back into the all-but-empty ward. “I will need to remove your shirt for this.” Akhila informed, interrupting their conversation after washing and donning fresh gloves. What remained of his clothing was in tattered ruins. Akhila tentatively lifted the fabric of his shirt to peel it away. Careful incase there was any patches of raw skin. “What do you remember of the incident Lokni?”

In reply to Darcy's quip about getting him up onto the upper deck, Lokni couldn't help but smile weakly. She then followed up with a question about his scar and if it hurt or not. For the first time since awakening, Lokni realized that he wasn't in any pain. The strange scar felt like an old memory, it had happened, but the feelings that he should have felt towards it weren't quite the same as they should've been. "It doesn't hurt, I feel alright aside from being exhausted and parched. Feel like I could sleep for a hundred years," he mumbled in reply, clearing his throat once. It was strange, his body felt heavy, like he was coming out of a deep slumber.

Concerned, Lokni watched as Akhila wheeled in the ECG machine, before asking him to remove his shirt. Obediently, he did so, the fabric was ruined. Not that it mattered, that shirt was already threadbare as it was. Much to Lokni's relief, the shirt didn't stick to his skin, and Akhila was so gentle in helping him. He really appreciated it. Lokni was lost in thought for a moment, trying to recall what had occurred back at the black beach.

"I remember getting mad at somethin,' even now I can't pinpoint exactly what it was. Then there was the lightning, and I turned and saw this- this formation that came from the sand, I remember thinkin' it looked a little like a snake. I don't know if that makes sense." Lokni sighed, feeling a little awkward as Akhila began to press little sticky pads that anchored the ECG machine's wires to his chest. Taking off his shirt was one thing, but being touched was another. It wasn't something that he was accustomed to. Despite his best attempts, his memories drifted back to Alex on the ship. An uncomfortable feeling ebbed down his spine at the memory. It hadn't been a bad experience, just strange to someone like Lokni- going from never being touched that way to the feeling of fleeting, teasing fingertips against his skin. He was thankful that Akhila was firm and professional.

Darcy moved automatically, getting another cup of water for Lokni and handing it over to him when he said he was parched. It was about as much as she could help and add to what was happening here. "Here, drink some more, hopefully it'll help."

She kept watching him as Akhila worked. He looked good. He did look more tired than she's ever seen him before but still, it was almost hard to see the man who was just impossible to wake up so she had to carry him here, somebody who was hit by lightning of some sort. Akhila's words sunk in more and more - he should not be alive. That really just convinced her even more that this had to do with his own special ability, even if the other two didn't believe her.

"What do those machines are telling, Akhila? Is he going to be okay?" And then as Lokni described what he remembered, what he saw, got her even more focused. "A snake? Was it made out of the sand or did it come out of the sand? Did it launch at you or do anything? Can you remember?"

Akhila couldn't help her concern, it had been a long time since she'd treated someone she cared for. Methodically, she placed the electrodes, her memory of undergrad startlingly clear despite her fears. The revelations that Lokni recalled the events before were remarkable, even if he had blights and gaps. Akhila acknowledged them both with a nod, but didn't speak as she hooked up the electrodes.

"Slowly." Akhila advised as Darcy encouraged Lokni to drink. She watched as the machine tick through a print-out, her hand held up tight to her chest until she could rip the print-out away. Akhila whipped out her glasses, taking several steps from the bed, to study under the light. Away from the concern of Darcy. Away from the lost-look Lokni possessed. P waves…Akhila's brows pinched as she tried to recall long forgotten lessons. She could map his QRS complex…the rise and fall, neither broad nor narrow. Everything was average, expected, and totally within the bounds of normality for a young man.

She returned, aided in removing the stickers, and assembling everything back into neat order. "I believe you're an incredibly lucky man Lokni, I'm afraid it does mean I must ask you to stay here for the time being." Akhila couldn't speak of the long-term effects of this, but for now it appeared he was out of the critical realm of danger. "You can stay with him if you like." This she said for Darcy's benefit, before her gaze turned back to Lokni. "When you've rested I'll need to run more tests, in the meantime anything you recall of the moments before I'd like to note down if that's okay with you?" Strange occurences were happening on the island, and they were multiplying by the minute.

Despite his thirst, Lokni obeyed Akhila, taking slow, measured gulps of water, being sure to breathe in between. Darcy's animated voice and attention bounced between him and Akhila like a ping-pong ball on a table. He was having a little trouble keeping up, so he was too tired to try and pull anything meaningful from the back and forth.

"I don't know if it was a real snake or what- looked like rock of some sort, same color as the black sand," Lokni mumbled, clutching his brow, a slight sheen of sweat forming there. He watched as Akhila stood poised, her sharp eyes watching the machine ever-so-slowly tick tick tick until she wrenched it away, turning away from the two of them to examine the paper. The rise and fall of her shoulders between breaths betrayed no reaction. She was as calm and collected as always, at least from what Lokni could tell.

Just when he was about to drift off back to sleep, Akhila returned, taking off the sticky patches from his skin. With Akhila's analysis of the situation, he nodded, sighing but not wanting to ignore the doctor's orders. "Alright, I'll stay a while, but I don't intend to be useless. I'll pull my weight as well." He held her sharp gaze, "just like last time."

[bigmammallama5]

Stupid hurricane is postponing our train kiln firing this weekend. We’re still unloading the soda kiln tomorrow (unfortunately I don’t get to help, I wasn’t able to take work off) and we’ll load the train Saturday when it’s more calm. But then it’ll sit there for two weeks until the 12th.

And idk one of our new residents is trying to change stuff about the firing after we signed up and I’m not really getting good vibes about him. Previous firings have had slow reduction cools (less oxygen, pulls out more reds and flashing, deeper color variation, more matte) but all of a sudden he’s saying he wants to crash-cool the kiln (after holding at peak temp you partially open the kiln and crash the temp down for smoother shinier surfaces but far less flashing and color depth) which is not what i had in mind for ANY of the work I made for this firing. Might keep my big sculpture guy out if he insists on crash cooling bc that’s not at all what i wanted for him. He might not be fired for a year at this point but that might just have to be the case.

*edit for clarification: our new resident is encouraged to lead firings to his style and taste, but he is wanting to alter firings we have already paid for before his employment without any kind of discussion on changes.