#they all felt like mouthpieces

[divinekangaroo]

Really struggle with how all war movies, even ones relatively successful at representing the horrors and sheer randomness and the insanity of war, have to end with some kind of propagandist imagery, as if it's compulsory that the insanity of what war is needs to be looped back into some fundamental essentiality of human emotional existence.

(Dunkirk should have ended several minutes before it did.)

.

The trippiest bit was when my 7yo, watching with me, turned to me and said, 'Mum, is this heaven?'

And I went....'What do you mean?'

'I dunno, it's just, it reminds me of heaven.'

*stares at the screen in silent horror*

[thefuturewithoutus]

tier list

[homielander]

i'm sorry but hotd positing that all women are innately cautious and peaceful and compassionate while men are rash warmongers is not a feminist win! i could see the value in everyone being hesitant to go to war at the onset of the story because it intensifies the tragedy of this house tearing itself apart, but at this stage, rhaenyra has as much reason for bloodlust (if not more) as the men on the show. it's pretty heavily implied that the shock of her usurpation killed her daughter, aemond killed lucerys, and one of aegon's kingsguard snuck into her quarters with the intent to assassinate her. most importantly, she has felt entitled to the throne since she was named heir as a child. she should be incensed! rhaenyra's inaction in the season 1 finale due to a sudden aversion to violence was already stretching believability -- this is the same woman who expressed nothing beyond mild shock at vaemond's beheading, who plotted with daemon to have an innocent man killed to facilitate laenor's escape while declaring that the realm should fear her. to have rhaenyra insist on peace at this point in the story, when war is already well underway, is incredibly irrational.

this problem is not limited to rhaenyra. alicent ordered larys to kill mysaria's network of spies and any suspected traitors in the red keep, presumably without any due process, and neither of these decisions was depicted with the gravity they deserved for a character who was once horrified by any bloodshed. meanwhile, aegon had a few extra ratcatchers executed, and not only was the direction sufficiently ominous, but we also got a lengthy monologue from otto about how it would spell his doom. it is probably pointless to bring up rhaenys because she is written less like a believable human being and more like a mouthpiece for the writers to assert whatever political opinion they believe is correct in a given episode -- but she did very much kill dozens if not hundreds of smallfolk last season. she did do that and very clearly did not care. why is she an advocate against war? for both alicent and rhaenys, there is a strange dissonance where their actions are at odds with their attitudes about opposing large-scale war for the good of the realm. i'm not saying this dissonance cannot exist, but it should at least be acknowledged.

helaena raising concerns about the losses suffered by the smallfolk might have worked in isolation, but for it to accompany everything above is exhausting. can none of these women be allowed to feel for themselves?

[wosoamazing]

Birth

Baby x3 | Baby, Baby... Baby?

Summary: The triplets are born.

Warnings: Surgery, Hospitals

“You’re okay, bebé, just focus on me,” Alexia told you, causing your roaming eyes to focus on her, and she smiled at you from where she sat, just next to your head on a stool, you smiled back slightly, clearly nervous, you didn’t like surgery, it scared you, and truth be told neither did Alexia but she had to stay strong for you, “I love you, you’re doing amazing bebé, just try and relax for me,” you nodded before closing your eyes, willing yourself to be anywhere else. 

Alexia didn’t know if you would actually be able to last the whole time needed for the procedure, especially when a tear rolled down the side of your face, followed by a few more. She quickly wiped them away before squeezing your hand, and kissing your forehead, she couldn’t help but feel this was her fault, you opted out of having general anaesthesia for many reasons, but one of which was that Alexia couldn’t be there if you had chosen it, and it was only fair that she got to witness this too. 

Alexia watched as your midwife asked the doctor something quietly, to which he nodded before she went to the anesthesiologist and asked him too, and he nodded before starting to set up something else, whilst your midwife approached Alexia.

-

“Bebé, would you like to try some nitrous oxide? See if it helps? It’s okay if not but we just thought to offer. Maybe see if it will help you relax slightly?” Alexia asked you softly and you gave a hesitant nod.

Alexia was handed the mouthpiece from the anesthesiologist, and she then turned all her focus back on you “bebé, I’m just going to separate our hands for a moment, okay?” she did so and soon your hand was placed over hers. She gently brought the mouthpiece to your mouth and you took a few breaths before pulling it back, and after a few more breaths you felt yourself relax slightly more, enough so that you felt comfortable enough to open your eyes and look at her, giving her a small smile.

——————

“Okay, everyone ready, first baby will be out soon,” you looked at Alexia and she smiled and nodded, you both weren’t going to really get a view of the babies before they had to be taken away, being born at 33 weeks there was a large unknown as to how much support they would need and what complications would arise meaning each baby having a NICU team ready for them in the OR.

After what felt like forever the surgery was finally over and you were wheeled back to a private recovery room. Where Alexia sat by your side once again, watching you as you fought back sleep.

“Bebé, if you’re tired sleep, I’ll wake you up if the doctors come in, and I promise I won’t leave you, I love you so much, and I am incredibly proud of you,” you nodded your head at her, mumbling an “I love you too,” before falling asleep.

Your midwife walks in just minutes later and Alexia goes to wake you, “No need to wake her, I’m just checking her blood pressure and other vitals,” she says and Alexia nods, “Also the babies are good, they obviously still have to do all the tests and things could change especially within the next hour or so but so far everything is looking good,” Alexia nods once again, worried she might cry if she opened her mouth.

“Is it alright if I let a visitor in?” your perinatologist asks as he walks in, and Alexia nods hesitantly, “as we spoke about in your plan I’ve already explained everything that happened to her,” he continued as Eli walked in and over to her daughter.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” he said before he left, your midwife following him.

“You’re a Mami now,” Eli said softly, hyper aware that you were sleeping just beside her.

“Sí, I just hope it was the right decision,” 

“What do you mean?”

“She was so scared Mami, they gave her nitrous oxide to help her calm down and it did help slightly but not that much, it’s why she is sleeping now, she was on the verge of a panic attack the whole time, she’s exhausted, and I feel bad, it’s because of me, she stayed awake because of me,”

“From what I heard you were very very good to her though, and you both had many conversations about it, she’d even spoken to me about what to do and ultimately I think she wanted you there with her more than she didn’t want to be awake,” Alexia just nodded and hummed, before getting out of her chair.

“Sit,” she practically ordered her mother, before she moved to stand beside your bed, softly brushing some strands of hair out of your face, causing you to stir slightly.

“Ale,” you said groggily.

“Sorry bebé, you don’t need to be awake, are you feeling okay though?”

“Mm-hmm, lie with me?” you said, you were already positioned over to one side of the bed, and so Alexia carefully slipped into the bed beside you, before you placed your head on her shoulder, promptly falling back asleep.

“She is definitely not mad at you,” Eli laughed slightly, earning her a harsh glare from her eldest.

“They’re perfect,” you whispered as you held two of the babies against your chest, a blanket covering you and them, Alexia sat beside you, holding the other against her chest.

“You did an amazing job Bebé, thank you,” she replied, as soft tears fell down her cheeks

“I can’t believe we’re mami’s now,” you told her, and looked at her. 

“I love you bebé,” Alexia said before placing a soft kiss on your lips.

Mapi was sitting on the bus, with her headphones in as the team travelled up to Bunyol for their game against Levante when she received a message from you and Alexia with a photo. You both looked to be shirtless as you sat side by side on the small hospital bed, two small babies laid on your chest covered by a blanket, and beside you one baby laid on Alexia’s chest, also covered by a blanket. You and Alexia both looked absolutely exhausted, and at the bottom of the picture Mapi could see several wires coming out from under the blankets that were clearly connected to the babies. Yet you were still both beaming. 

Your god daughters are here. Meet Estella María Putellas, Mila María Putellas, and Livia María Putellas born 21 March 2020 at 11:00am.

As Mapi felt tears begin to fall from her eyes a collective gasp was heard from the rest of the team. Alexia had sent the exact same photo to the team group chat just minutes after the message to Mapi was sent.

[anyab]

Via NasAlSudan

Learn about the Sudanese revolution, the significance of December 19, and a legacy of resistance and resilience.

Join our call to action today and everyday during Sudan Action Week.

December 19 2023

Transcript:

Breaking it down

What is the Sudanese Revolution?

The Sudanese Revolution refers to the popular uprising in Sudan that began on December 19, 2018 and eventually deposed 30-year dictator of Sudan, Omar al-Bashir, on April 11 of 2019.

How did the Revolution begin?

Protests first began in Atbara, a city with historical significance to the labor movement in Sudan, in response to the rising costs of basic supplies such as bread and fuel.

Protestors set fire to the national party headquarters, and the news of their revolt quickly spread, inspiring protestors first in other cities, and then in the capital of Khartoum itself.

Online, the caption #TasgutBas, translating to #JustFall, grew in popularity and helped connect the diaspora to those in Sudan.

Was it really just bread?

No. The rising cost of bread in developing nations is an indicator of how badly the economy is strained, to the point where it impacts members of every social class.

At this point in time in Sudan, subsidies on essential goods had been rolled back, funding for social and state services such as healthcare and education was nearly nonexistent, and it is estimated that nearly 90% of economic activity took place in the informal sector, all while the military budget continually increased.

Transcript:

Who led the charge? Creating a revolution

Group: Sudanese Professional's association (SPA)

Who they are:

Group of labor and trade organizations formed in secret in 2012 and publicly declared in 2016

Backbone of grassroots organizing in Sudan

Role played:

Led action on the street, organized national protests, like the initial march on Khartoum for increased wages before the transition to calls for regime change, and worker strikes.

Group: Local Resistance Committees (LRCS)

Who they are:

Initially formed as groups of students and youth organized together on the more local, neighbourhood basis during the Bashir era

Membership is extremely diverse across socio-economic, ethnic, tribal, religious, and political lines

Role played:

Considered the lifeblood of the revolution, with youth organizing local protests and ensuring safety against governmental repression by standing on the front lines + providing security, food, water, and medication to people

Group: Forces for freedom and change (FFC)

Who they are:

Coalition comprising the SPA, LRCS, the Sudan Revolutionary Front (group of anti-governmental Darfur militias), political parties, and civil society groups

Role played:

Essentially became the political mouthpiece of the revolution and signed onto the transitional government with the military on behalf of Sudanese civilians

It is also crucial to note that from a demographic perspective, it is youth and women that largely led and comprised the Sudanese Revolution.

Trabscript:

How did the revolution succeed?

01. Learning from the Past

Following the Arab Spring wave, Sudan also attempted a revolution in September of 2013

Civilians faced violent crackdowns within the first three days of protest. 200 killed, 800+ arrested

Activists were deterred from mobilization + felt a lot of guilt at the massive loss of life and spent the next 5 years grounding themselves in the study of nonviolent theory and action

02. Building a Movement

Coalition Building and People Power

Diversification of the reach of the movement to make sure all sectors of Sudani society were represented

Decentralization of Activism

Past revolutions in 1964 and 1985 were concentrated in the labor movement and educational elites in Khartoum

This time, experienced nonviolent activists trained those in the capital and ensured ethnic, religious, and tribal diversity

Newly trained activists then taught others locally across the Sudanese states

Transcript:

Why december 19?

On December 19, 1955, the Sudanese parliament unanimously adopted a declaration of independence from the Anglo-Egyptian colonial power.

The declaration went into effect on January 1, 1956, which is why Independence Day is officially January 1, but December 19 is when the Sudanese people were truly liberated from colonial rule.

The flag shown is Sudan's independence flag. The blue is for the Nile, the yellow for the Sahara, and the green for the farmlands.

The current Sudanese flag was adopted in 1970, with the colors used being the Pan-Arab ones.

During the 2019 revolution, protestors often carried the independence flag instead as a form of resistance to the narrative of an exclusive Pan-Arab Sudanese identity.

December 19 is ultimately a tribute to Sudanese strength and resilience. It honors our independence and revolutionary martyrs - not just those of the 2019 revolution, but the democratic revolutions of 1964 and 1985 as well.

Transcript:

Why is the revolution ongoing?

The goal was never just the fall of a dictator. The goal was, and is, to build a better Sudan, one free from military rule. One with equal opportunities for everyone, with economic prosperity and safety and security - the key principles of freedom, peace, and justice that the revolution called for.

Today, though, before we rebuild Sudan, before we free it from foreign interests and military rule and sectarianism, we need to save it. Each day that passes by with war waging on is one where more civilians are killed. More people are displaced. More women are raped. More children go hungry. To live in the conflict zones in Sudan right now - whether that be Khartoum, Darfur, Kordofan, or now, Al Gezira, is to be trapped in a never-ending nightmare, a fight for survival. And to live elsewhere in Sudan is to wonder whether you're next.

Sudan Action Week calls on you to educate yourself and others about Sudan, and then to help the Sudanese people save it, because we can no longer do it alone.

Transcript:

What can you do? Uniting for Al Gezira and North Darfur

As we witness the unfolding events in Al Gezira and North Darfur, the communities of Abu Haraz, Hantoub, Medani, El Fasher, and many others are reaching out for assistance. Sudanese resilience persists to this day, with individuals on platforms like Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and TikTok seeking and providing guidance on transportation services, medical care, food, shelter, protection, safe zones, operational markets, and more. This isn't new for the Sudanese community. A legacy of unity emerged, notably during the 2019 revolutions, where nas al Sudan [the people of Sudan], both within the nation and in the diaspora, rallied together to support each other online. Beyond merely sharing stories on social media, this was about strengthening collective action, enhancing mobilizations, and building a resilient community rooted in solidarity. The essence of the Sudanese community lies in people supporting people, notably during the uprising in 2018 and following the events of April 15th, 2023

Swipe to see how you can help.

Transcript:

What can you do?

This week, on a day nearly mirroring Sudanese Independence and the popular 2018 uprising, Sudanese resilience endures as war follows nas al Sudan to Al Gezira and again in North Darfur. Our call to action this week is not just to share; it's a collective effort to uplift one another.

Share Resources:

If you have access to resources that can help such as transportation services, medical assistance, food, shelter, etc., please comment below.

Community Requests:

If you are in Al Gezira or North Darfur and require specific support, please comment on your needs

Connect Individuals:

For those unable to share resources directly, help amplify requests by sharing this information within your personal networks. Your connection may lead to support from individuals who can assist.

Spread the Word:

Share this call to action on your social media platforms to broaden the reach and encourage more people to contribute.

Transcript:

Hanabniho

حنبنيهوا

[We will rebuild]

#keepEyesOnSudan

#SudanActionWeek

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Of course I’m here. Big surprise.

I’d love some soft!dom energy from countryclub!steve when we’re being a little needy. 😇

Leighanne my beloved 👹 18+

“No, no, Thursday should be fine— mhmm. Well, talk to Richard and see what he says, surely we can’t push it much further—”

You knew fine well Steve was still on his call, you could hear his voice through his office door, his tired, bored tone sighing into the receiver. He’d told you ten minutes though, and well, that had been twenty minutes ago.

So you didn’t feel too guilty when you snuck in, lips pressed together to hide your smile and Steve glanced at you with surprise as you closed the oak door behind you. His whole office smelled like him, like leather and whisky and expensive cologne. He was sat behind his desk, an impressive thing made of dark wood and topped with a forest green leather covering.

There were files all over it, receipts and email print outs, an open cigar case that hadn’t been touched yet, a glass of something amber that was yet to be drunk. Steve looked tired, the top few buttons of his shirt undone, the white linen rolled past his elbows, his suit jacket thrown across the sofa on the other side of the room. You watched him take a hand through his hair and he smiled at you as he listened to whoever was droning on.

It didn’t quite reach his eyes, though.

So you took it upon yourself to wiggle between the desk and Steve’s legs, smiling when he shifted for you, rolling back on the wheels of the chair, his cell still pressed to his ear. He didn’t seem to be listening as intently as before when you dropped into his lap.

“What? Yeah, no, no, of course. Surely we can have the meeting over a conference call?”

You weren’t sure what meeting this call was regarding but you busied yourself with sneaking a hand into Steve’s open shirt, your palm finding warm skin and a smattering of chest hair. You felt his heart race under your fingertips, grinning when his eyes turned a little glassy and his gaze dropped to your lips.

“I’m listening,” he murmured into the phone, lying through his teeth. His hips moved under yours, adjusting himself until his hardening cock was felt properly under your ass. “New York, sure…” he trailed off, coughing a little when you leaned in to kiss at his throat.

You squirmed against him, dress riding up your thighs, Steve’s hand trailing the cotton, his eyes following behind. You watched him suck his bottom lip between his teeth, his expression appreciative. You wondered how far he’d let you take this, if he’d let you sink to your knees under his desk and—

“Hold on a sec, Fred— yeah, two seconds, I just gotta—” Steve pulled the phone away from his face, his hand covering the mouthpiece. He raised his brows at you, doing his best to hide his smile as he leaned in, nose nudging yours. “Did you need somethin’, honey?”

You pouted, dress strap slipping off your shoulder as you played up for him, lips brushing his. “You,” you whispered, as if it were a secret.

Steve smirked, a salacious thing that still made your thighs push together. He tapped at your hip then, coaxing you off of him and you wanted to tut, you wanted to protest. But the man didn’t give you any time to feel offended, nor rejected. He knocked his knuckles onto the top of his desk and nodded towards it.

“Gimme your underwear, baby and hop up.”

You blinked, lips parting.

“You got five seconds, honey, or you can wait ‘til this call is done, your choice,” Steve murmured in a song-song, his tone leaving no room for discussion. He wiggled the phone that he was still doing his best to silence. “Drop ‘em.”

With your hands curling into the sides of lace, you pulled the underwear off of your hips and down your legs, your dress rucked up indecently as you did, showing your fiancé a flash of bare skin, soft and wet in the places he liked most. You worried with the papers strewn everywhere, trying your best to gather them into a neat pile but Steve spoke from behind you once more.

“Five, four…”

You stifled a laugh, shoving them to the side before hopping onto the cool wood and Steve grinned, victorious. He moved back, the wheels of his chair skating across the floor as he settled himself in front of you. “Yeah, yeah I’m here, apologies. You were saying? New York?” Steve didn’t miss a beat as he took your underwear from your hand, stuffed them in his pocket and tapped at your knee.

You knew what he wanted, what he was silently saying.

Open.

You felt your face warm as you spread your legs, sticky thighs parting as you bared yourself to the man in the dim glow of the setting sun and the lamp on his sideboard. Steve’s lips parted, a barely audible groan coming from his chest that he covered with a cough. He used one hand to settle your feet on either side of his seat, keeping you wide for him, your cunt on show as you sat back on your elbows, waiting for his next move.

You didn’t have to wait long.

A single finger, used to trace up and down the seam of your folds, gathering the wetness there, slow and shallow. He was barely touching your clit.

“I’m sure that’ll work,” he was saying. His eyes didn’t leave yours. “If we manage to secure the Parker funding, I can’t imagine it’ll be too much trouble.”

He pulled his hand back to drag his finger over his tongue, humming at your taste and apparently something his colleague was saying. Steve didn’t miss a beat when he brought it back once more, immediately sliding his middle finger into your pussy. You whined, cutting yourself off short with teeth to your lip and Steve stilled, throwing you a warning glance.

“Oh, of course,” he continued, as if he weren’t knuckles deep in you. “If we can manage to get it into the schedule that day, we might as well go for it…” he curled his finger up before adding another, grinning when you threw your head back. “…I’m sure it’ll be a tight fit.”

Withdrawing, he leaned forward, nudging at your chin to gain your attention and Steve brushed his fingers over your lips. He pouted at you, waiting. You opened without hesitation, showing off as you stuck out your tongue and let Steve drag his slick covered digits over it. His thumb brushed your cheek in reward and then he settled back into his seat, using the same two fingers to draw circles over your clit.

A slow, soft tease, steady and messy, over and over and over—

“No, you’re fine, Fred.” Steve smirked at you, brows knitting together in faux sympathy as you screwed your face up in pleasure. He was going to make you cum while you couldn’t make a sound. “I’ve got plenty of time to talk.”

[rafeslittleangel]

One night only...right?

In which you and Natasha are on a mission and lose all communication from Shield, forcing you to stay at a motel.

Warnings: Smut, tribbing, fingering, edging, mommy kink, oral f receiving, slight mentions of injury

Words: 2.6k

18+ mdni

"All clear" 

Nat whispers, pressing the earpiece to hear your response. 

"They're heading your way, Romanoff. I see thermal signatures of three." You mumble, looking at the small screen attached to your sleeve. "Stay on comms. I'll come in when you need me to."

Natasha smirks, her eyes flitting to the entrance of the room, waiting for the incoming. Rubbing her lips together, almost hungrily, she mutters...

"I'd like to make you come in other ways sweetheart."

You blush furiously, so glad Natasha couldn't see you right now. Before you could even respond, you heard the voice of the one and only Nick Fury, who was sitting back at base, guiding you through the mission. Your mission was to take down agents from a small organization that had recently popped out of nowhere, following the Hydra framework and belief that SHIELD and the Avengers knew all too well. They were on a mission to recover important information from an old hydra facility. Your job was to get your hands on it first.

"Focus on the mission, Romanoff; you can go back to your y/n fantasies later."

Fury's voice rings in your ears, bringing you back to reality. 

"Oh, I'm sure she wasn't, uh, fantasizing about me. Just an offhand comment, right?" You whispered unsurely, laughing nervously.

"Oh angel, I was doing much more than just fantasizing."

Normally you would blush and laugh it off, completely oblivious (maybe a little aware) of Natasha's advances, but you saw a flickering movement on your screen that made you squint, zooming in on the building schematics.

"Nat on your right, you have incoming through entrance four. I count 2, one armed, one strapped."

You widened your eyes, making sure you were looking at the signatures properly.

"Strapped to a bomb vest, Natasha, do not engage!" You yelled into the mouthpiece frantically, sprinting towards the room she was in. You neared entrance four, kicking down the other guy while you gingerly approached the human bomb, threatening to blow at any second.

"Romanoff, we need to evacuate. Where are you!?" You utter desperately, watching as the bomb vest turns red hot and the man dressed in it grins maniacally.

"Right behind you," Natasha knocks out a man who had gone unnoticed and was right behind you, peering at his figure on the ground. You hadn't even realized that someone was behind, let alone someone who was probably planning to blow you up. Natasha wraps her arm around your waist urgently, looking at the live bomb.

"Run"

You both sped across the hallways, her protective hold on your body tightening with every turn. You didn't slow down as you ran out of the facility, not looking back once.

"GET DOWN!"

Natasha screamed, pushing you to the ground and covering your body with hers. You heard a loud reverberation that echoed for so long that it felt like hours.

A few more minutes passed before she let up. You rolled around on your back, looking up at her tiredly to see a shit-eating grin on her face.

"This is not how I imagined we'd be when we laid down together for the first time."

At this, you giggled, looking away. She offered you a hand, and you took it, your hair bouncing as you got up.

You reached to tap your earpiece, wanting to let Fury know you're both safe. You pressed it, only to hear static. You took it out and groaned to see that it was broken. You looked toward Natasha to see her having the same luck. The vibrations from the explosion and the frantic escape must have damaged it. You sighed and looked around.

"Where's our ride? Do we go back to base?"

Natasha looks at you guiltily. "Well..." You widen your eyes, shooting her a wary glance.

"Nat...."

"I was supposed to call for the quintjet through comms. We have no forms of communication left to call Fury."

"Wh-UGH what about the bike?"

She looks around, examining every nook and corner of the destroyed facility and the grounds around it. "It blew up". You groaned, looking away from her, dread filling your heart. You had never been stranded before. You were a young avenger, comparatively new one. You bit your lip and surveyed the ground underneath you.

Natasha looks at you sympathetically. "We can't go back y/n. This just got way more serious than it should be. We need that intel, whoever it's with. And we need to find out why they would blow up their own facility. What were they hiding in here?" She thought out loud. "We'll have to camp out here for a few. Even if we had a means of transportation or communication, we would have to stay to figure this out."

You nod reluctantly. Friend or not, Natasha was still your senior. You looked into the pitch black sky. "Where do we start?"

She lets out a laugh, looking you over. "I might be tough on you hon, but I'm not a monster. We're gonna get some rest, recuperate and prepare, starting with stitching that ugly cut up."

Natasha brings her hand to your cheek, a borderline concerned look on her face. You tensed up. You hadn't even realized you were hurt.

She gently traced the pad of her thumb below the lacerated skin, her eyebrows pinched together. You observe her face, which was practically glowing, even in the darkness of the night. She blinked, as if put out of a trance when she notices you staring. She withdraws her hand, almost hesitantly (you notice) and cleare her throat.

"Uh...l-let's go look for a motel to spend the night at huh?" You caught a glance of the faint blush that spread on her cheeks, right before she turned away, walking quickly. You stood there, dumbfounded.

Natasha fucking Romanoff was...nervous?

You shook your head, laughing softly. "Wait for me!" You rushed behind Natasha, who was practically speed walking by now.

_______________________________________________

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror, wrapped up in a towel. You'd just gotten out of the shower, the gash on your cheek pulsing. You winced, letting out a few yelps of pain as you a attempted to put a measly bandaid on it. You hear three loud knocks an you jump, your knuckle hitting the cut.

"Fuck!" You screamed. Hearing the noise, Natasha barged in, gun in her hand.

"Are you okay?" She asked, eyes suddenly fixated on the towel hugging your body.

"I was until you knocked on the door, making me hit my cheek!" You huffed out, annoyed. Natasha chuckled and put her gun down.

"I just wanted to ask if you need help sweetheart. And apparently, you do.." She peered at the bandaid on your face. "You don't put bandaids on cuts like that sweetheart."

You looked at yourself in the mirror, then at Nat, suddenly feeling so stupid as you look down at the first aid kit in your hands.

"I-I didn't have anything else..."

Natasha smiles, caressing your side gently. "You'll need stitches princess." She takes out her own first aid kit, finding the sterilized needle and thread she kept.

"Will you get on the counter for me sweetheart?"

Natasha was taller than you, so it made sense for you to sit on the counter so that she could stitch you up more easily. You felt your cheeks get hot at her choice of words but get on the counter anyway, clutching your towel as it ridea up your legs.

She starts working on the cheek carefully and gently, inserting herself between your legs. You screw your eyes shut at the pain, needing something to hold on to as you grip her thigh, digging your nails into her flesh. She let out words of appreciation, hating to see you in pain.

"Almost done princess, just hang on..."

She whispers, doing the last stitch, finally cutting up the thread to look at you.

"All done sweetheart, you can open your eyes now."

You let go of a breath you didnt realize you were holding, as you turn to look in the mirror, inspecting your cheek. You look at Nat in the mirror, who was already looking at you. You felt your throat go dry as you looked into her eyes.

"T-thank you..." You stuttered out, looking back at her. She smiled and put the things back in the first aid kid, not moving away as her thigh rested dangerously close to your almost exposed pussy. You felt Natasha's gaze burn into you as she traced your inner thighs with her fingers.

"Can I kiss you?"

She whispered, lips inches away from yours. You nodded slowly, lost in her eyes. She didn't waste a second to crash her lips onto yours, hands funding your lower back. You let go of the towel loosely wrapping your torso, the fuzzy cloth dropping to reveal your body as you kept your hands on her neck to pull her closer.

Natasha stops, eyes relishing every nook and corner of your naked body as she looks you up and down.

"Sweetheart..." She whisper, completely entranced, bringing her thumb to stroke your soft nipple, playing with it until it becomes a small hard nub. A rush of euphoria hits you and you whimper, your hands finding her waist.

She looks up at your face and smiles, delighted to see your head thrown back, eyes screwed shut. She brings her mouth to your other nipple, licking and sucking it harshly, dragging a real, loud moan out of your throat.

Natasha pressed herself closer to your core, your legs involuntarily wrapping around her waist. She picks you up, carrying you out of the bathroom and to the medium-sized bed, which was the best that the run-down roadside motel you were at could offer. She gently placed you on the matress, looking at you hungrily as she spread your legs. She knelt down, her thumb reaching your clit, gauging you for a reaction. You bit your lip, whimpering and looking down at her as she pressed her thumb on the bundle of nerves, bringing her teeth down to graze the sensitive bud.

You were soaked by now, squirming and begging for some kind of friction as Natasha carelessly traced her fingers on the work of art between your legs.

"M-Mommy please!"

You whimpered out, bucking your hips towarda her fingers. All movement stopped as she looked up at you, a mocking pout on her lips.

"Please what sweetheart? Use your pretty words angel, can't get everything by begging and whining can you?"

You moaned, your hand reaching down to rub your clit. "Need you s-so bad." Natasha shoves your hand away from your clit, delivering a slap to your pussy. You cry out, your hole tightening around nothing.

"Did I say you could touch yourself?" She asks, reaching up to pinch your nipple.

"Answer me." She brought her hand down on your pussy again, smirking as you hiss in pain.

"I-I'm sorry-" You mumble, closing your eyea and biring your lip. Natasha lights taps your cheek, gesturing for you to look at her.

"Sorry what?"

"I'm sorry m-mommy!" You choke out as Nat plays with your clit. She smiles and takes your pretty bud in between her lips, sucking on it while forcing your legs open, even as you struggle to close them from the sensations. You gasp when her tongue enters your wet hole, eagerly lapping up your juices.

You thrust your pelvis into her face, causing her to hold you down as she aggressively licks your pussy like it was her last meal. Your hands reach to her scalp, stroking and pulling her red hair as the knot in your abdomen threatens to unravel.

You moan with pleasure, eyes falling shut when you shudder, so wo close-

"Fuck!" You cry out, tortured swollen pussy pulsing as Nat looks up at you, your arousal dripping down her chin.

"No...no why'd you stop!?" You sniffle, tears in your eyes.

Natasha licks her lips, bringing her face down to kiss your neck, biting and sucking so hard it left a large purple mark. You gasped, nails digging into her hips.

"Well you haven't been the best girl for mommy... didn't think you deserved a release." She whispers, rolling both your nipples betwen her fingers. You shudder with pleasure running down your torso.

"I'll be better...I-I promise I'll be better...Please Na-mommy!" Your best, puppy dog, princess face was on, playing at Natasha's heartstrings but she was not that easy. She settled onto the bed, gesturing for you to come towards her.

"C'mere sweetheart..." She whispered, arms out as you crawled towards her. She takes off her shirt and jeans, left in a red lingerie that could make anyone salivate at the sight. She scooped you up, laying you down in front of her. She spread your legs, blowing air to your core, watching as more arousal leaks through your hole.

"Aw sweetheart... baby's eager isn't she?" She whiapered out, eyes fixated to your insanely wet swollen cunt. You nodded and whimpered, nails digging into the matress of the bed.

She teased you, slowly sliding in one finger as she looks at your pretty face, whines falling out of your mouth. She keeps the finger inside, unmoving, looking at your eyes shut at just one.

"My princess can take another can't she?"

You nod eagerly, thrusting your bottom further down the finger. Natasha puts her hand on your jaw, pressing harshly.

"Didn't I ask you to use your words sweetheart?" She whisper, threatening to pull out the first. You babble, trying to find your speech.

"Another one m-ma please..." You bite your lip, anxious for friction.

Nat joins her index finger with her middle finger, finally starting to move them, thrusting them into you. She curled her fingers inside, grazing the squelchy, spongy spot inside that made you moan and shut your eyes.

She was breathing heavily, touching herself over the thin material of the panties, seeing your little hole get so stretched by just two fingers. Without warning, she slid another one in, making you gasp and hold her wrist.

She slapped your hand away, thrusting her fingers harder, pulling down her own, soaked through underwear. She felt your pussy clench around her fingers and she withdrawed them completely, leaving you clenching around nothing. You cried out, having yet aanother orgasm ripped away from you. The desperation was short lasting however, as Natasha pulled you to her lap, thrusting her bud onto yours, placing your wet and slippery pussy on hers.

She moaned loudly, her grip on your ass tightening as she made you grind into her pussy. You squealed as she flipped you over, rolling her hips into yours, rubbing herself on you without a break. Squelching noises filled the room as your slick coated pussy caressed against hers, your orgasm threatening to burst for the third time that night.

"Come on princess, I know you're close, gonna cum for me huh? Gonne show me who made you feel this well?"

With that, you reached your climax, your pussy pouring out everything it had, Nat's hands supporting your convulsing body as she herself let go, feeling her orgasm. You blacked out for what it felt like was seconds, but when you woke up, you saw that Natasha had already cleaned you up, her shirt on your torso. She stroked your hair, sitting beside you.

She kissed your cheek, seeing you wake up and smiled. You rubbed your eyes.

"W-what happened?" You whispered, snuggling closer into her chest. She laughed and pulled you closer.

"You squirted sweetheart. What a pretty sight it was too..." She whispered, drawing patterns on your thighs.

"Go to sleep angel, you've had a long day."

[mcumorningstar]

Friday Nights

pairing: riff (wss) x reader

warnings: 18+, minors dni, oral (m receiving), exhibitionism

summary: After having Riff’s hands all over you at the dance, you can’t help but pull him away into the shadows.

a/n: mike faist world domination ‼️ I’m hyperfixating so bad rn. He’s just so gorgeous.

“Where the fuck is Riff?”

The Jets without dates shrugged from their places on the outskirts of the dance floor. Ice clenched his jaw, his date securely tucked underneath his arm.

“He’s dancing with… Y/N…” Baby John scanned the crowd of dancing couples, failing to see either one of you.

“Numbers and Action left with their girls so if anything happens without Riff here, we’re outnumbered,” Ice said pointedly to the Jets within earshot.

Mouthpiece and A-Rab nodded, as Ice and his date rejoined the dance floor.

Unbeknownst to them, you had taken Riff’s hand halfway through a number and weaved him out of the crowd underneath the bleachers.

You found privacy there and, after the past few hours of being so close to him, you couldn’t deny yourself any longer.

As soon as you were in the shadows of the bleachers, you crowded him against the wall of steps.

“We should go,” Riff panted with pink kiss-bitten lips as your hungry mouth moved to his neck, licking and sucking his sweat-salted skin.

You shook your head with a mischievous grin, “I wanna keep dancing… Just need you to myself for a couple minutes.”

“Oh yeah?” A wide smirk plastered across Riff’s lips and his eyebrows lifted, looking down at you. His strong hands gripped your hips tighter and held you close to him.

You and Riff had been going steady for a few weeks. He treated you to milkshakes at the diner, he took you dancing every Friday night without fail and you two even went to the drive-in movie theatre once.

He was certainly charming.

But you weren’t sure you were quite there yet. Riff has a special way of making your stomach swirl but the Jets had a reputation amongst your friends for being… town bikes.

“Yeah, I like seeing you like this,” You smiled, letting that hang in the silence for a moment before taking a step back, “Wanna head back?”

Riff watched you with half-hooded eyes as you straightened your appearance. His hair was mused and his cheeks were rosy pink.

Looking through the gaps between the stairs, Riff assessed the dance hall. Lonely singles sat above you, waiting to be asked to dance, their shoes tapping to the beat of the music against the bleachers.

Did he want to go back..? Riff would rather spend the rest of the night hidden away with you, but you wanted to dance so he’ll dance.

He turned back to you and stood up straight, “Let me cool off for a minute.”

The bulge in his trousers was evident as he stepped further out of the shadows. It looked sizeable and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from it.

Riff adjusted himself and the front of his trousers, straightening out his shirt and collar.

“You need a hand?”

The words escaped your mouth before you could think and Riff almost snapped his neck turning to look at you.

Silence hung between you for what felt like eternity but was in actuality a few seconds.

“I mean… if you want,” You shrugged, only now realising that you were ready to give yourself to Riff in that way.

“Sweetheart of course I want that,” Riff took your face between his hands, “Are you sure? We can just go back to dancing.”

Wordlessly, you wrapped your fingers around his belt and pulled him closer, your hips flushed to his. His unfastened belt buckle caught against your hand as you tugged down his zipper and lowered to your knees.

Riff helped you pull his boxer briefs low enough to free his aching cock. You gasped at his size and he groaned at your reaction to him, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

He was being so gentle with you. It was hard not to give him your all right away.

You started with kitten licks and soft kisses to his shaft, running your fingers through his happy trail and settling your hand on his thigh.

The other held the base of him as your tongue traced the vein across the underside of his cock.

Riff groaned from deep in his chest, gripping a metal bar from the bleachers framework above him. His other hand flailed in the air as he struggled to decide whether to hold onto you or not.

The hand on Riff’s cock ran along his toned stomach and took his free hand in yours, interlocking your fingers, as you wrapped your lips around him and took him into your throat.

“You can take it sweetheart,” Riff encouraged, his voice thick with lust.

Bobbing your head up and down, you worked up a rhythm that had Riff tipping his head back and biting his bottom lip.

He managed to muffle most of his moans and heaving breaths but the slick sounds coming from your mouth around him were hard for him to ignore.

Luckily the lively Jazz music of the dance hall bounced around the room, concealing your noise.

“Fuck baby, you’re so good at this,” Riff praised, low and rumbling. A smile graced your face despite your mouth stretching around Riff’s thick cock.

You moaned in appreciation, the vibrations making Riff moan and buck his hips, pushing his cock deeper down your throat.

Saliva dripped down his cock onto his balls. You pulled back to catch your breath, kissing his hand before untangling your fingers from his and stroking him.

Gripping him at the base, you took him in your mouth again and worked up another rhythm to prolong his pleasure.

Sweat beaded at his temples and his chest heaved. Riff wrapped his hand around the side of your neck, his thumb tilting your head back to meet your eyes.

The sight of him above you, ruined by pleasure, made you moan. The vibrations made Riff shiver. You met his eyes and his muscles trembled, pleasure shooting through him.

“Oh baby I’m gonna cum,” Riff groaned, biting his lip. His grip on the bleachers framework tightened, his bicep bulged and the veins in his forearm protruded.

You smiled giddily around his cock and reached up to massage his balls. A sinful moan sprung from his throat and his head fell back, ropes of warm salty cum coating the back of your throat.

Swallowing everything he gave you, you couldn’t help but laugh. Riff tried to catch his breath, a sheen of sweat coated his skin.

You rose to your feet, refastening his trousers and belt before tucking his shirt in and straightening it out.

Riff wrapped his arms around you and pulled you flushed against him. His face buried in the crook of your neck and pressed soft kisses to your skin.

You stood like that for a moment before pulling away. Riff looked you over before crouching and brushing his fingers against your slightly scuffed knees.

“Worth it,” You giggled as Riff stood to his full height, towering over you. He adjusted your dress and ran a thumb under your bottom lip, tidying your smudged lipstick.

“Beautiful,” Riff whispered with adoration in his eyes.

An arm wrapped around your waist and held you close, “Ready to dance, girly girl?”

“Just one more kiss and then we dance,” You rose onto your tiptoes, meeting him halfway and kissing him with raw passion.

Riff pulled away, barely an inch, “Just so you know, I’m returning the favour as soon as you let me.”

“You’ll have no complaints from me,” You kissed him quickly and nipped at his lip before taking his hand and heading back to the dance floor.

The eagle-eyed Jets whooped as you and Riff reappeared, less put-together than when they last saw you.

“Enough’a that,” Riff was stern but in good spirits, pulling you under his arm as you giggled.

The Jets fell silent, despite mischievous smirks and knowing looks.

None of the Jet boys would ever say anything to you. Riff was their leader and he’d have their necks if so much as one bad word went against you.

You were his girly girl, his sweetheart, his.

“C’mon doll, let’s dance,” Riff grinned down at you, swerving you between other dancing couples to the centre of the room, “Wanna show you off… and then you’re coming home with me.”

At that, your mouth went dry. Riff bit his lip as he watched you swallow thickly.

After a moment to recover, a smirk twitched at your lips and you wrapped your arms around his neck, “One more song then we go.”

Riff dipped his head to capture your lips with his before twirling and dipping you in time with the music.

You couldn’t wait for what was to follow, and every Friday night to come.

[thesunisatangerine]

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part six

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: explicit descriptions of violence, blood, and death

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 3.3k

You had to get out of there.

Tremors shook the ground as another shell made impact somewhere far to your right but it was close enough that the explosion left your ears ringing. You flattened your back further against the fallen wall behind you when you heard the unmistakeable sound of gunfire, the rubble that cut into your skin barely registered in your mind from the adrenaline that rushed through you. But the cacophony of noise amalgamated into something continuous, something malevolent and cruel; something that promised death in its wake. 

Bullets embedded themselves in a column, a wall, a body–everywhere–and fine pieces of debris flew and pelted against the exposed skin of your cheeks and against your helmet. Your eyes watered from the fine powder of pulverised cement and the oppressive heat, while your lungs were smothered by smoke and a choking stench–something like freshly-laid asphalt mixed with the distinct, rancid smell of burnt human flesh, sulphuric and sharp. 

Through lidded eyes you witnessed the depravity; the extent of humanity’s appetite for senseless destruction and anarchy. It was total chaos–no, it was worse than that: it was butchery and brutality at its finest; a type of hell on earth.

All around you were bodies upon bodies, men and women alike–children. Their faces, frozen and pallid, permanently bore imprints of terror and agony; their crooked fingers and still eyes fixated to the sky imploring in violent judgment–resentful and anguished in their silence–the unspoken question: 

Why?

Why? 

Why?

Everything overwhelmed you all at once: the sight and the smell made your stomach churn to no end. Even when you heaved the remnants of your stomach to the ground, the nausea remained, pulsing and gnawing.

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you brought your camera to your eye and you willed the shaking in your bones to still. 

You took a shot. 

Another round of bullets splattered to a nearby wall and this time, you threw yourself front-first to the ground and you felt the rhythm of your heart reverberating against the mud. And a sinking feeling hit you. You’d bore witness to many conflicts, faced mortal peril, and was familiar to death like it was an old friend. Each time you were in such a situation, hopelessness never got the better of you–it was like you’d always known you were going to make it out each time. 

This time it was different, you could feel it in your bones. You were going to die here and it wasn’t a matter of if, just when and how. 

But you had a job. If you were going to die, you would die being the mouthpiece for the ones who’d already been silenced–from their premature deaths or from the hand of the power meant to protect them or both–to show the world what they’d suffered, what they’d sacrificed.

With that in mind, you steeled yourself. You loaded your camera with another ring of film, fingers stiff from the cold and marred by blood and mud, and you captured the scene.

Repeat.

There were people screaming, running, clamouring for survival. As you moved with them, you kept an eye out for other survivors who needed help to get out of there. You scanned the faces for the familiar ones of Jones and Gilda but they were nowhere to be seen. You’d lost track of them after the initial explosion and the chaos that followed so the only thing you could do now was to look for them as you went and hope for their safety. 

Meter by meter, inch by inch, you moved slowly away from the direction of gunfire. You were farther ahead now but the gunners were still dangerously close, still close enough to be able to catch up to where you were if they continued their pursuit, so you remained crouched and cautious for any sound that could indicate danger. 

When you came across the rubble of a fallen building–freshly destroyed by artillery from the smoke that came from it–you heard a whimper. It startled you; the softness of the sound barely pierced through the ringing in your ear but when you peered under a slab of concrete braced by a rugged beam, you caught sight of a scene that shattered what was left of your heart.

In the shadows, big eyes that you could not mistaken belonged to a child shone with terror, a little girl that looked no more than ten years of age, her mouth partly open in fear. You could discern another person next to the child but they weren’t moving at all and from the blood smeared on the girl’s cheek, you had a sinking feeling that the other person was dead. 

Gunfire echoed somewhere behind you and you flinched at its closeness. How did they get so close so fast? You needed to get the both of you out of there. If you could save this child’s life then maybe, just maybe, your life was worth something after all. 

You raised both of your hands up and spoke gently, hoping the little girl would be able to understand that you were there to help as you stooped to fit through the gap. The child hesitated and receded further back into the rubble so you tried again as you inched closer to where the other person laid unresponsive, patient despite the ever-closing sound of shots being fired. 

You reached the other person–a woman–and when you placed two fingers against her pulsepoint and found no rhythm, you bit your quivering lip and looked at the child, chest heavy. And as if the little girl finally understood that you meant no harm, she inched towards you and placed her small hand in your open one. With a firm yet gentle grip on the girl, you guided the both of you out of the rubble.

Once outside, you carried the little girl behind a wall, heart breaking when you felt her shiver and at the fact that it took little effort carry to her for she weighed so little. And now with light and cover, you inspected the little girl.

To your relief, other than the trail of flaking blood that originated from the crown of her head and on her cheeks, the little girl looked like she didn’t sustain any other physical injuries. Satisfied for the time being you began to tend to her, gave her water and what little food you had on you, and then wiped away the blood.

After she finished, you detached the velcro of your bulletproof vest and unbuckled your helmet before you put them on the little girl. Then you hoisted the girl up on your back, leaving your camera dangling heavily on your chest.

You managed to sneak across the district without being noticed but you knew the danger was never far away. A little farther on, you began to recognise key landmarks that let you know you were close to the base you came from. So even when the muscles in your legs protested for you to rest, you pushed on.  

Not a moment later though did loud shots fill the air and immediately, you fell to the ground, feeling fine rubble and shrapnels cut into the side you landed on as you manoeuvred your body so that the child wouldn’t get hurt. The little girl cried out and adrenaline coursed through your veins, instinct driving you to keep the child safe so you pushed the two of you against a nearby wall, your back to the open space while you shielded the child with your body, her head safely caged between your arms and chest.

You craned your head over your shoulders to figure out where the shots were fired but then a feeling of lightness passed through you followed by a growing thickness at the back of your throat. You coughed, the force of it made you keel forward, and as you looked down you saw fresh blood splattered on the face of the girl, her eyes wide with horror as she looked up at you.

Then you felt it, a burning sensation that enveloped the entirety of your right side which left you cold. When you looked to your side your shirt clung to your skin, soaked with blood.

No. 

You sputtered again and you tried to breathe but the pain only intensified and instead of feeling relief, the act smothered you–it felt like you were drowning. Then everything began to blend together: the shapes lost their edges and some images doubled, but the light seemed to intensify on its own, swallowing all in its wake. Then you sagged forward and the ringing in you ears, too, blared unceasingly.

No.

You must… 

The child… 

Wait. 

Alexia–

“–are you okay?”

You started as Derek’s voice brought you from your reverie, your mind someplace else that you’d already forgotten but the feeling that you were missing something important lingered behind in the back of your mind.

“Huh?” 

“Honey, your brother’s been trying to get your attention for the past minute. Are you alright?” The familiar voice of your mom brought your focus to her. She sat at the head of the long table while Derek opposite you, and you found twin pairs of blue eyes looking at you with concern. Your mom stood, chair scraping against the tiled floor as she did and she made her way towards you. She put a palm over your forehead once she was close enough before she asked, “do you have a fever?”

“Mom, I’m fine. I’m just–” You began but suddenly, a wave of exhaustion came over you which left you cold. It was as if a sheet of ice was put over you and you felt the coldness cling to your bones, weighing you down as your body slowly began to freeze over. “I’m–I’m just tired. I think I’ll rest up now.” 

When you moved to stand, staggering slightly due to the weakness in your knees, Derek snatched your hands and clung to them, and you looked at him in alarm, eyes wide.

“Please, don’t. Don’t.” He said through gritted teeth, the corners of his mouth drooped low in a pained grimace, blue eyes glazed over and brows furrowed in a silent plea. 

His obsecration confused you and you were about to ask him why you shouldn’t rest if you felt tired when your mother placed a hand on your shoulder, her grip gentle yet firm. You turned to her and when you found her gaze, she wore the same expression as your brother. 

“You’re brother’s right, honey. Just–please, just stay with us for a bit more.” 

What was going on? Why weren’t they letting you go?

Another wave of fatigue doused over you but this time, pain erupted from your chest. So intense was it that it nearly made you keel over the table, nails digging into its hard surface as you tried to catch your breath but with each inhale the more it felt like you were running out of air.

“I’ll–I’ll join you in a bit. I just… I just need a nap.” You staggered to your feet, pulling your hands away from Derek’s grip with the remaining strength you had and brushed off your mom’s protest.

As you passed the full-body mirror just beside your bedroom door, you saw your reflection, haggard and pale, and with her were the familiar silhouettes of the people that haunted you… your mother and father. They stood there behind you–your mother to your right and your father to the left–but you only found an empty space where they stood when you whipped your head back to look for them.

So there you stood, rooted in front of the mirror as you soaked their images in but for some reason, your couldn’t quite discern their faces. They were blurred; it was as if someone had swiped their thumb over the freshly laid ink of their image and made their features indecipherable. 

Longing prompted you to reach out a hand to try and trace the lost edges of their faces but instead of meeting the mirror’s smooth surface like you expected, your fingers sank into the mirror like it was made of water. Quickly, in fear that it would hurt you, you retracted your hand and you watched in awe as the mirror image went still again, back to the reflection of yourself and your parents.

Then out of curiosity you plunged your hand again into the mirror and instead of feeling pain, you felt… nothing. The sensations in your hand in the mirror stopped as if it had ceased to exist completely. 

Would it soothe then the pain in your body if you stepped into it?

The thought tempted you and you stepped forward, ready to sink into this silver miracle, but something stopped you–a weight on your shoulder pulled you back from the mirror. You staggered backwards, caught off guard from the force of it, but when you looked back you found nobody however this time, when you returned your attention to the mirror, the reflection of your parents was gone. 

Emotions bubbled in your throat, bitter grief and burning confusion a familiar taste on your tongue. Where did they go? Why did they leave you? And as these questions filtered through your mind, another wave of exhaustion doused over you, its weight was unbearable. You needed relief, and soon.

You were ready to step into the mirror–into oblivion–but it wasn’t there anymore. In fact, everywhere you looked there was nothing, just negative space as if the light had dissolved all existence but you. You looked down and you saw your reflection on the still water you were apparently standing on. 

It was so still, so peaceful, and you feel so heavy. It would be easy to just sink into this blissful nothingness–this silence–after… that’s right, after having witnessed the revolting boil of humanity’s thirst for blood. Yes, that was it, the reason you were here: you were here to forget. 

The longer you stared into the water, the more your will to remain standing frayed. 

Not a moment later, you let yourself be plunged downwards into the cold water. Into nothingness. 

You woke with a start, breathing sharply as you did, the sensation of falling still with you and the memory of the dream you just had lingered. It was about… what was it?

When you opened your eyes, you found golden light and you squinted at the stream of the early sun that found its way through the gap between the heavy curtains. Your cheek was warm against Alexia’s bare back and you relished the way her muscles shifted beneath her skin as she breathed, still deep asleep. 

With her so close like this a sense of peace and calm washed over you, the kind that only Alexia’s presence could provide. You turned your head slightly and shifted closer to her, pressing a soft kiss on one of her shoulder blades before you nuzzled the nape of her neck where her scent was most prominent.

You sighed as you breathed her in.

“What are you up to back there?” Alexia’s voice, rough and heavy from slumber, met your ears and the question elicited a small laugh from you.

“Nothing. Just getting comfortable.”

Alexia hummed then she murmured, “come here.”

You moved as she began to turn and disappointment filled you from the separation but when she pulled you into her embrace after she settled on her back, the disappointment quickly faded away. And when she kissed you, soft and languid, everything melted away except for the tender warmth of Alexia’s lips.

You were content.

Suddenly, a gnawing feeling seeped into the edges of your mind and, little by little by little, apprehension filled you. There was something you’d forgotten, somewhere you needed to be.

You pulled away from Alexia’s lips. “What time is it?”

“Don’t go.”

Her answer jarred you. You lifted yourself up on your elbow and considered Alexia, confused as to why she would say such a thing. She knew you had to go. How could you not go? Where else could you possibly be? So you asked her as much.

“No, you don’t have to. Please.” Alexia placed a hand on your cheek, her eyes glassy. You sighed, turned your cheek away from her touch, and extricated yourself from her warm embrace. You stood at the foot of the bed and regarded Alexia again who was now sitting up, the sheets pooled around her waist, her chest bare, shoulders hunched forward as she looked at you. You only shook your head before you went into the en suite bathroom to get ready.

Once you got in the shower you, unsurprisingly, thought of Alexia and your confusion returned twofold. Why was she making this difficult? She knew you had to go. You already told her… 

At that thought, you frowned as you tried to remember. When did you tell her? Why did you need to leave? The questions were beginning to make your head hurt so you left the shower, wrapped yourself in a towel and headed to the closet. In there, you found your stack of simple white clothes. You picked a white shirt and a matching pair of jeans and you made your way to the bedroom door. 

As you passed by the bed, you saw Alexia just as you left her and from where you stood, you saw how small she looked. And those eyes… they shone with something you could only name as plea, the tears in them now in danger of falling. 

Your chest ached and so did your head. 

You shook your head and made your way to Alexia, pressed an apologetic kiss against her temples, then you moved to the door.

You opened it and an abyss greeted you, a world of no outlines, shape nor colour, just a brilliant white that called to you. Its pull was magnetic, like a tide that wanted to sweep you away, but there was something keeping you in place, an invisible tether and it was anchored to the woman sitting in your bed.

“Please, don’t go.”

You had one foot out of the door when Alexia spoke with such gentleness you couldn’t do anything but look over your shoulder. The sight of her crying made the pounding in your temples unbearable and the pain in your chest blazed anew, excruciating and cruel. The world blurred and warmth slipped down your cheeks. 

Why were you crying? Why was this difficult? You had to leave, you were about to miss something important.

“Alexia, why?” You sobbed, clutching your chest. It hurt.

She was out of the bed now, right beside you, and she reached out and cupped your face with one hand, the other went to your hand on the door handle. Her touch that used to soothe you, that used to bring you peace and clam, sent pain to every nerve in your body. You gasped, your chest was in danger of bursting and your knees lost their strength. And then you remembered why you needed to leave: you needed this pain to disappear; you had to get better.

Finally, your knees buckled under your weight but Alexia was there to catch you, her body strong and firm, and oh, so warm.

“Alexia, please let me go,” you sobbed into her arms. 

Everything hurt. But she held you, unyielding.

“Stay. Please, stay with me,” she whispered in your ear and the words were followed by another wave of pain. This time, you screamed in agony and clawed at Alexia’s shoulders to get yourself away but still, she didn’t budge.

“I got you. I got you. I got you,” she repeated as every nerve in your body screamed at you. Everything coalesced into a singular, never-ending noise but Alexia’s voice pierced through the veil like a silver lining, a life line that you held onto as you were washed away into an ocean of light.

[faeriekit]

Ghosts of Those We Once Knew

a phic phight fill for @silverwing013

Warnings for: implied child abuse, accidental death, dead parents

**💚**

“Oh yeah?! And what are you going to do about it?!” Aunt Alicia snapped into the phone. 

There was a sound on the other end of the line, but Danny couldn’t make it out all the way. There was another solution, but it was…risky; it would require going into his aunt’s bedroom— a well known, forbidden domain— to pick up the only other phone hooked up to the landline. 

…There was no other time to find out what Aunt Alicia was putting off. It had to be worth the risk. Danny crept up the worn carpeting of the stairs, hoping that his sneakiness would hold up to Alicia’s discerning eyes and ears. 

Her bedroom was dark. Carpeted. …Pink. 

Whatever. Danny took a deep breath, lifted the phone off the hook, and tried not to breathe too loudly into the mouthpiece.

“You have no right to keep Daniel in your dismal, miserable, isolated hovel,” someone shouted on the other end. Danny had never heard this voice before. He sounded like someone around Dad’s age, maybe? Maybe a little…smoother, despite the blistering anger coming through the line. “You live with no human contact for nine months out of the year. You speak to no one. Do you— is Daniel even enrolled in a school? Did you get any sort of educational provisions for him whatsoever?” 

“What, so he can get cocky and blow himself up in the garage like his parents?” Alicia snapped. Danny had to clap a hand to his mouth to hide his gasp of dismay. 

“You know full well that punishing your sister’s son by restricting his access to an education and basic human companionship is not a solution to your grief for your sister. You are out of your mind.”

Aunt Alicia’s voice got low. Aunt Alicia’s voice got mean. She sounded like how she looked when Danny had fumbled the water pail from the well or stepped two steps too close to the rhubarb patch out back. “Vladmir Masters, you listen here,” Aunt Alicia muttered. “That boy is everything left of my sister in the whole damn world. He is not going anywhere. Do you understand? Not for you to fill his head with her stupid husband’s supernatural hoo-ha, and not for you to snatch up and teach himself how to kill other people the way those two killed each other. Danny stays here. If you ring me up one more time, I’m going to do more than just mail dog crap to the front step of your stupid castle in Wisconsin.”

The phone cut off. It would be an innocuous end to a phone call, except Danny can hear the clatter of plastic cracking on plastic in the downstairs kitchen.

There was a moment of silence.

“Daniel Jackson Fenton, you get your butt in here right now!”

Danny jolted, heart pounding. He—he went downstairs.

Aunt’s Alicia’s lips were pursed, her eyes tight. “What did I tell you about missing all the sticks in the yard? It looks like a wreck!”

Danny felt his breath stick in his throat.

“Well?”

“Yes, Aunt Alicia,” Danny mumbled. He looked down and away. He wasn’t caught out eavesdropping, but…was this any better?

“If those sticks aren’t piled up beside the woodshed for kindling in half an hour, you can kiss your dinner goodbye.”

Danny hadn’t had dinner in three nights. He was very lucky he didn’t need to eat as much as living kids. “…Yes, Aunt Alicia.”

“So?”

…Danny went outside to collect sticks. It took until nightfall to get all the refuse from yesterday’s storm off the ground.

Aunt Alicia ate canned corn and carrots and butchered rabbit with hot sauce for dinner. Danny ate nothing.

Danny went to bed thinking about somewhere else he could go. Mom and Dad were dead—smithereens in the blast that had killed him and brought him back to life simultaneously. Jazz was in the hospital. He had no grandparents. He had no other aunts or uncles other than Aunt Alicia.

…Who was Vladmir Masters?

*

It took two days for Danny to decide to run away.

Or. Well. Fly.

He’d figured that if he wanted to find out who Vladmir Masters was, he’d need an internet connection. His cell had been on the Fenton Fone Plan™ and had been disconnected from the Fenton Family Patented Ghost-free Satellite™ for almost three months now. But, you know…what was a public library for, if not getting information?

The two-day waiting period was mostly just Danny getting his stuff together, making sure he didn’t leave anything behind, finding anything worth stealing…

…There was a picture of Mom with her big hair at graduation, a black robe thrown over her Hazmat suit. Her hair had been so big. Lots of people were beside her, including Dad, and someone with a matching hair stripe. They looked happy.

It didn’t matter that it had been Aunt Alicia’s photo. The picture had gone into his backpack next to Bearbert Einstein and a filched pocket knife.

Mom was Aunt Alicia’s sister, but Madeline Fenton had been his mom.

…Was still his mom.

Would…would always be his mom.

Danny wouldn’t cry. He wasn’t going to cry. Still, the flying and everything was still new to him. It took almost ten minutes to get himself off the ground without floating off willy nilly.

It took another half an hour to remember how to go through walls.

By the time Danny fell (as in actually, literally, leaned up against the wall and then realized he’d not made contact the way he’d expected to) through the house wall, it was almost eight at night. Aunt Alicia was still listening to Prairie Home Companion downstairs on the radio.

Whatever. He was out of there. He was sure he looked crazy—his hair was white, which was almost impossible to hide—but all he had to do was get out of there fast enough that no one connected one teenage runaway with a backpack to Danny Fenton.

It was fine.

It was all going to be fine.

…And if there wasn’t someone who’d help him. Well. Being homeless didn’t sound…so bad…?

…Or maybe he’d just squat in the burnt out ruins of Fentonworks. That sounded fine too.

*

Morning broke. Danny ended up in a tiny town somewhere in Mississippi.

A nice guy at the coffee shop gave him a cup of water and told him where the local library was. A librarian plugged her login details for him on a public computer, and Danny was able to look up one “Vladmir Masters”…

…CEO and owner of DALVco, millionaire, and Green Bay Packers megafan.

Holy crap.

Like… There were hospital wings with his name on them. Charities operating out of his company. Every picture of the man was perfectly taken in perfect lighting with perfect suits and precise smirks and bright-white magazine article paper.

Danny went back up to the librarian. “Do you have any articles on…uh…Vlad Masters?”

The librarian smiled warmly. “Ah, school project?”

“Sure,” Danny lied, milk on his tongue.

Vlad Masters was a self-made millionaire. He lived in a castle in Wisconsin that used to be owned by a dairy empire kingpin. He went to—

Danny read the line again

—He went to the same college as Mom and Dad. The year looked right, too. They might have even graduated in the exact same year. If only Danny could still check Dad’s college ring in the bottom of their junk drawer.

Wisconsin. Vlad Masters lived in Wisconsin.

…Danny was really lucky he was never all that hungry anymore.

Danny got another cup of water at the coffee shop, washed his face in the bathroom, and got ready to fly another night.

He was no sextant, but he could probably figure out how to get to Wisconsin after a couple of hours of flying, and a little time to gauge the sky.

It would be easy.

…Danny’s white-topped, pale face stared back at him from the restroom mirror.

It had to be. It would have to be easy.

*

So, a cheese castle looked a lot like a regular castle.

Danny squinted up at the stonework. Nah, that looked like…a castle. That being said, it looked more specifically like the castle he was looking for—the one that had been featured in Vlad Masters’s house tour in Architecture Daily magazine two years ago.  

Same…roof bits. Same big door. Danny swallowed. Same…tower? Were there better words for these? There were definitely better words for all the tricky stone bits in the castle.

Whatever. Danny was praying that the man was actually home today, as opposed to flying across the country on some kind of business trip. Rich people did business trips, right?

Danny floated up to the front door. There was no doorbell.

…Danny bit his lip. Okay. So there was no doorbell. There was a very large, brass door knocker. It looked kind of like a big monster face, with a ring held in its teeth.

The knocker was just high enough off the ground that Danny had to float to get there. Lifting it was a struggle.

When it knocked, the whole door buzzed with sound.

Danny waited.

…He waited.

And…Danny waited.

No one came.

Danny picked at the skin of his lip. What if he just…went in?

Like. It was a big house. Maybe Vlad Masters just hadn’t heard him at all? Maybe he was just…in the basement or something…?

Danny paced midair. On one hand. He’d come all this way. He had to follow through. He had to see if there was…something. Anything. Anything at all—anything that could possibly connect Masters to his family.

Any connection that wasn’t Aunt Alicia would be worth breaking and entering.

On the other hand. Home invasion was and would remain illegal.

Danny grimaced.

He…stuck his head through the door. 

There was a hallway on the other side. A little end table. A guest book. 

…Okay. Danny slipped through the door. He was breaking and entering now— or at least…entering. 

Inside was dark. Gloomy. Comfortable, sure— lots of soft furnishings, curtains, couches, pillow, lounging things— but very…opaque in atmosphere. 

He was glowing, he noticed. That probably was pretty bad on the “trying not to get caught” scale. 

There was no one upstairs. Danny drifted through room after empty room and up into floor after empty floor. There was a kitchen, and the food therein were largely preserved items. There was nothing in the fridge. 

Danny’s stomach cramped. There was no one here. 

…Maybe he should look downstairs? 

The castle got colder the further down he went. The windows that at least allowed the minimal light that escaped through the tree cover in the castle vanished. The only light left was Danny. 

Danny floated down deeper. 

There were doors made of metal in a long, stone hallway. Each had different numbers on them. Danny followed the rows of doors.

There were wires on the floor. They were organized by color and bound by little ties, until they weren’t, and Danny eventually ran out of tangled webs of red and blue plastic to follow. 

They ended at a closed door. 

Danny hesitated. He poked his head through. 

On the other side was a ghost. 

Danny jerked back. He’d— he clapped his hand over his mouth. That was—! And sure, Danny was something like that now, but he’d never seen—!

He should leave. Danny should leave. 

Danny barely made it three doors down. 

Going somewhere? something asked him. Danny shivered. 

The ghost appeared on his left in ethereal white, black hair pulled behind him in some sort of half-halo. Unlike Danny, who was in something like half-hazmat, half-hoodie, the ghost wore a long, glowing labcoat, appropriate PPE beneath. 

Danny’s breath fogged up in his mouth. He flinched. “Sorr—” he tried. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m not supposed to be here.”

The ghost looked at him with bright red eyes. Danny floated a few steps back. Spying, are you?

Danny shook his head. “No!! No, I just— I was looking for— I wasn’t spying! I’m sorry! I didn’t know you li— died here! I’ll leave!” 

The ghost’s head tilted. For a second, Danny thought that he was going to throw a punch. And then—

You’re already here, the ghost pointed out, and opened a door. Beyond it was…something similar to a doctor’s office. An examination table with the paper on it. One of those blood pressure cuffs, attached to a printer for the readout. A sink. Sundry tongue depressors. You may as well consent to be helped. 

“...Helped with what?” Danny asked nervously, fingers flexing. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

The ghost hummed— not in the way voices hummed, but in the way high voltage sang in distant powerlines. You are newly formed, aren’t you? Most can tell a ghost’s nature from its presence alone.

Danny looked away. “Um. You know. You might be the first ghost I’ve ever met.” 

The ghost’s feet almost touched the ground. It stared down at him. It was taller than he was, and when it stared, it made Danny want to run away. 

…Truly, the ghost asked(?), and it took Danny a second to realize it was a question. 

“Maybe I died a little recently…” Danny tried, trailing off into a mumble. Was there a right answer to this? 

…I see. That would make this check-up more urgent, then. Might I encourage you to come this way? 

Danny followed him into the room. 

It felt… It looked and felt exactly like any other doctor’s appointment, excepting that the doctor involved in the process had blue skin and fangs and a hairstyle that defied gravity. The ghost still wore gloves and didn’t poke him or prod him too hard, though, so that was a bonus.

Danny got his pulse taken. (None.) Danny got his lungs checked. (Not breathing.) Danny got his resonance? looked at? Whatever that was? It was a big scanny thing that looked like an X ray and took pictures of his chest. 

The readings were real pretty, whatever they were; the whole film print was taken up with splotches of white and clear blue. It kind of shimmered when Danny tilted his head. 

You’re quite powerful for a newly formed ghost, the ghost offered, overlooking papers Danny couldn’t quite see on his clipboard. It flipped through once. Twice. You’re clearly not attached to your place of death, so that’s not why… Are you aware of any compulsions to follow an Obsession yet…?

A ghostly obsession? Danny knew what that was— it was one of his parents’ theories on why ghosts persisted after death! Was it was true? 

“Um,” Danny said, unsure. He hadn’t…had he? “Not that I know of?”

The ghost paused. It clicked its pen. It marked something down on Danny’s chart. Interesting.

Ominous. 

May I quickly test something? the ghost asked, looking up at Danny. It would only take a moment. If it does not work, there will be no other side effects other than mild discomfort and an activated flight response. 

Danny shifted. The paper crackled underneath him. “...Does it hurt?” 

No.

The ghost added nothing more. 

Danny’s…head jerked up and down. It was fine. It would be fine. 

The ghost’s hand circled his wrist. Its touch burned like fire. 

And then light, like how Danny burned away one form for another—

—Danny was left on the table, no longer weightless, no longer breathless. He was flesh. He was human again.

Vlad Masters stared back at him. 

…Huh. 

Mr. Masters— Vlad?— licked dry lips, staring at Danny, whose wrist he still held. Danny…didn’t know if he could move. Danny didn’t know if he knew how to move. 

“...Daniel?” Mr. Masters’s voice cracked. His eyes moved up and down Danny’s body, from his raggedy hair to his dirt-stained clothes to his beat-up shoes. “Daniel Fenton?”

Danny winced. “It’s just Danny,” he offered hoarsely. His throat bobbed. “You…know me?” 

Mr. Masters moved his grip to Danny’s hand, apparently moved to tears. Without the red in his eyes, he just looked���human enough. “Daniel— Danny, how did you— Are you dead? What happened?” 

Danny felt the weight of everything push down on him again, as if it had ever let up on him since the portal incident. Mom and Dad’s funerals. Jazz in the emergency room. Being resuscitated by the EMTs. Getting shipped out to Aunt Alicia’s house without warning. 

“House blew up.”

That was succinct enough, right?

The man’s face turned devastated. “I heard— I’m so, so sorry. I’m so sorry, Danny.”

…It was more concern than anyone had shown in a long time. His eyes were wet before he knew it. When he wiped his face with his sleeve, the dampness was enough to leave little streaks of mud on his face— and, ugh, he felt filthy. 

“It’s okay,” Danny lied, because it wasn’t. He pressed his sleeve to his eyes. “It’s…you know my parents?”

Mr. Masters took a deep, surprised breath. “Yes. We…weren’t in contact after we graduated from school together, but Jack always… He asked me by email to be your godfather, right before you were born. I said yes, but I have no idea if he ever filed the paperwork.” 

Oh. 

…Oh. 

There were clearly more secrets here. Mr. Masters was a ghost, and so was Danny. He lived in a giant castle that was clearly haunted, which was made obvious by the owner. He was Danny’s godfather, and Danny had never once met him. 

And he wasn’t Aunt Alicia. 

Danny sucked the spit off of his teeth with his tongue. “Can I stay here?” 

Mr. Masters made a wounded, desperate expression. “I would rather you did.” 

“Can you teach me how to be a ghost?”

The man persevered through what were clearly heavy feelings. “...If I must.” 

“Can I have dinner?” was Danny’s final question. “Like. On the regular?” 

There was a second where Mr. Masters’s eyes went red. The castle suddenly felt taut with anticipation. Fury crawled on Danny’s skin. He could feel the pressure digging in search of some way to burrow into his flesh.

And then it was gone. 

“Of course you can. You are a growing boy.”

Danny smiled shyly, barely showing his teeth. When he smiled for real in the mirror, he had fangs. It was better not to. “Cool.”

Mr. Masters nodded. And when Danny looked down at the floor, he changed his grip so that Danny could hold his hand and hop down like normal. 

“It will be alright,” Mr. Masters promised quietly. It seemed to be just as much for him as it was for Danny. “Or…I’ll take care of it. Whatever happens. You’re not alone, Danny.” 

Danny had been alone for almost half a year. It had felt like forever. “Thanks.” He sniffed. 

They walked upstairs from the basement laboratory together, in a way Mom and Dad never would again. 

[alizalayne]

Whats the ventilation and heat like in the suit head? I can't tell if it would be warmer or more cool to wear in compaison to a faux fur fursuit head. The only thing I worry abt is how durable needlefelting is and if it can be cleaned like a traditional fursuit head. That being said I really hope you continue making these, they're cool as hell 👍🔥👍

Okay first of all I'm super jazzed to be able to talk about this with people, and I kind of went overboard answering this, but thanks for asking! Putting this up in case anyone else is curious.

The main answers to your questions are 1: wool is cooler than acrylic fur and less stinky

2: A fursuit head is a swamp and i am snorkling in it.

I mentioned this in my behind the scenes post and there are pictures there but I literally just made a snorkel out of a snorkel mouthpiece and two collapsible automotive funnels, the kind that you can bend into a shape so that you can get goo into a weird part of your car.

that snorkel piece goes straight out of a vent hole in the inside of the ear and I felted a pink skin flap in front of it and then felted white fiber into that so it just looked like a tuft. it worked perfectly, it's just that I couldn't talk in it that well. But I'm definitely going to keep using it if I can't think of a better mouthpiece for it because as SOON as I breathed inside the head instead of through the snorkel I was like oh my god everyone is living in hell.

You can see it in this picture a little bit. nobody noticed it at all!

My friend had made a much more traditional head with a bigass electric fan in it and he was having more heat issues than I was, because I cannot stress enough that acrylic fur is like, one of the most horrifically hot fabrics you can wear. I don't know how everybody is even alive!! and there's a layer of ACRYLIC BACKING on it! Also check out how "short-pile" my fur is, most of the head is only an inch thick, it's a half-inch bucket head made out of foam covered in maybe 1/3 of an inch of wool? the less space you have between the fibers the less heat gets trapped. I was shocked by how comfortable I was, and I was having migraine symptoms that day and was extra sensitive to heat. The con where we were had the air turned down and it was chilly outside, but I was shocked when I took the head off and shook my hair out and I wasn't even sweating. I had long hair in a wig cap under that thing and I wasn't sweating. It was crazy.

As for cleaning the wool, I cannot find anyone else who has done this who has cleaning tips for me, but the foam is what I'm worried about. After a few hours of wear there's nothing wrong with the wool at all, but i can TELL the foam is ever so slightly nasty, because the foam is polyurethane and wool is what you make hiking socks out of. I have some wool cleaner coming in the mail that's made for delicate needlefelted items like scarves and deposits lanolin, which is what keeps wool "alive" kind of like how you have to care for leather. It's definitely an experiment! Nothing ventured nothing gained!

I don't have an idea in mind for a second head right now and the next thing I want to make is a cowl so I can wear lower-cut tops with this head, but I might try something else if I think of an idea! I'm probably never gonna sell these because I'm weird about selling sculptures for whatever reason. They're like my living beasts.

But I definitely hope this encourages other people who might be interested in bringing needlefelt or other fiber art sensibilities to this space, that would be a massive complement and a high honor to give people a new way to enjoy a hobby that I know means a ton to a lot of people.

[favcharacterpoll]

ROUND 6 MATCH 3: CECIL VS. C!WILBUR

Cecil Palmer from Welcome to Night Vale faces c!Wilbur from the dsmp. @10piecechickenmcnugget get over here sage

Cecil Propaganda:

"Cecil is not only the Tumblr sexyman, he is the first gay protagonist of a podcast that most of us have ever heard. From the very first episode he was unashamedly queer and no one has ever called him out or given him shit for being gay. He is a gay Jewish fashion disaster who is the mouthpiece for an incredibly bizarre town and plays the whole “this horrifying thing is completely normal”thing so well. If Cecil wasn’t there, I think a lot of people wouldn’t have felt so accepted for just being who they were. Cecil is an inspiration and the queer podcast rep we all deserved as we were growing."

"he’s gay. he’s a dilf. he’s ageless. he has been since there’s was nothing and he’s still here after the world ended. he can summon music. his mother is a oracle his father is a tree. his cat is a man who got cursed and also has wings a stinger and poison??? he thinks a tutu and crocs is formal wear and has talked to god and she said ‘I love you. I’m sorry’. he’s definitely guilty of manslaughter from negligence"

"this is the website Night Vale built!"

c!Wilbur Propaganda:

"Accurate depiction of mental health and spiral, handled delicately and deliberately, every piece of his story was thought and planned and in the end he went home to Utah. Thank you lord."

"Please don’t let the name dream smp effect how you feel about this submission, this character is completely unrelated to dream and I’m pretty sure the person who played him has nothing to do with dream anymore. This man single handedly got me through a horrible patch filled with extreme paranoia by also being extremely paranoid. Genuinely really helped me feel seen and I coped a lot by getting invested in this character. I almost cried when he died :("

"He’s so fucking stupid. I could infodump for hours this man transed my gender. Everything has gone wrong in his life. He’s the definition of a bisexual disaster."

"I didn’t fail 10th grade math bc I was thinking about c!wilbur for him to lose round one"

"I mean look at him!! his Minecraft skin is adorable!!!"

"if you people vote for cwilbur i'll draw him in a bikini."

"A VOTE FOR C!WILBUR IS A VOTE FOR GIRLBOYS EVERYWHERE"

"i should not have underestimated minecraft fans they came together"

"Season 1 changed me. I didn’t know minecraft videos could have good acting, dramatic plots, etc. Wilbur was one of the best there. His plot was so interesting with the L’Manburg and the unfinished symphony arcs. He was funny, dramatic, sad… I fondly remember my dsmp days (though I only saw up to like part of Tommy’s exile)"

[burnednotburied]

Chapter 3: Cursed Creatures

AO3 Link | Masterlist

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Fic Synopsis: Abby goes looking for Owen and ends up on the wrong end of your knife.

Tags/CWs: angst; slowburn; enemies to friends to lovers; talks of purity culture/ideals and “sin”; internalized homophobia and some comp-het feelings (they’re both so gay but so dumb about it); animosity between WLF and Seraphites; blood/gore; descriptions of being hanged; religious/cult-like ideas

Note: This is not at all how I thought this chapter would start. Alas, I am riddled with religious trauma, and Taylor Swift just released the song “Guilty as Sin?” I mean… “My boredom’s bone-deep This cage was once just fine Am I allowed to cry? I dream of cracking locks, Throwing my life to the WOLVES” Are you kidding me? It’s perfect. So this started out differently than I planned. But what was I to do? I am just a girl.

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

There were many topics on which you had been educated in-depth but were never supposed to experience first-hand.

Sex was one of those topics.

You knew the mechanics of it. The anatomy that was involved. Its purposes and benefits. The dangers of it.

You had been told, vehemently, that it was something that should never be done outside of the safe and proper confines of marriage.

Which meant you could never do it because you could never marry.

The Prophet had to remain pure.

Set apart.

Free from romantic, familial, worldly ties.

You were taught to suppress any desire to do otherwise. A task that you had been mostly successful at upholding.

But there were times when your eyes lingered where they shouldn’t and your own thoughts made you shiver and blush.

It was the sin of lust.

The other major vices were usually easily circumvented. You could be disciplined and selfless, just and kind, modest and brave.

You always did what you were told, and you didn’t ask questions.

You told yourself that you weren’t weak; you just knew your place. You knew what was expected of you, and no other options had ever been made available.

So, like thrown clay, you had allowed yourself to be molded into the person you were today, each piece of you carefully and intentionally shaped by the hands of others.

The Elders created the perfect Seraphite specimen. Quietly devout. Enigmatic. Indelible. Untouchable. Obedient.

A mouthpiece disguised as a leader.

A Prophet.

They made you.

You were not a naturally occurring thing.

Sometimes you didn’t even feel human.

Lust was one sin you knew could be concealed, buried far below your surface, unseen by critical eyes.

It was a small act of rebellion. A hidden glimmer of defiance. Although, you weren’t doing it on purpose.

And it was made especially loathsome due to the regrettable fact that it only ever happened to you when you were looking at or thinking of a woman…

Now the Wolf stood in front of you, hammer held tightly in her right hand.

Demons were quickly descending upon you, and you had just witnessed (and neglected to intervene into) the death of three of your own people. The only person you helped was the Wolf, your enemy, who you were meant to kill.

You could guess what the Elders would say if they were here now. How disappointed they would look as they pointed out your many failings.

For once, you didn’t care.

Strangely, despite everything, you felt like a bird whose cage door was just thrown wide open.

Or a well-trained dog that had been mistakenly let off leash.

You could breathe. Unrestricted.

Your eyes remained glued to the Wolf.

Her back was to you, her soaked clothes clinging to her skin. Her shoulders rose with each of her deep, deliberate breaths.

Time seemed to slow as your eyes traced down the length of her arms, taking in her strong form…

See, you knew the sin of lust was bad, if only because it made you stupid.

Or distracted, at the very least.

Demons were coming, and you had just been moments away from gutting this girl.

You definitely couldn’t trust her.

But you didn’t have to trust her to look at her.

A series of snapping twigs and high-pitched shrieks from the surrounding forest instantly brought your attention back to the approaching threat.

Demons were another one of those things that they taught you about but never thought you’d actually encounter.

When you arrived on the mainland that morning, you had been led to the network of Seraphite-built bridges, above the city, concealed in the clouds.

Nearly your entire day had been spent in the sky.

If there were any Demons below, you didn’t see them.

Honestly, you hoped you’d never have to come across the cursed creatures.

The sounds they made were animalistic, but somehow still eerily human. Like a voice that was either enraged or overwhelmed with pain.

You had been told that they were unsavable. Completely consumed by the disease and irrevocably punished for their sins. No longer even human.

As a child, you heard stories of the first Prophet valiantly fighting off hordes in defense of her early followers.

In training, they taught you how to fight both Demons and human adversaries alike. Although the former was always theoretical.

You were shown sketches, detailing the different stages of it.

Foolishly, you thought you were ready.

But nothing could’ve prepared you for what came running out from the cover of the trees.

It moved faster than you would’ve thought possible, too quickly for you to take it all in, but the glimpses you captured were grotesque.

It went straight for the Wolf, swinging its arms wildly. She effortlessly dodged its attack before striking with the hammer. Hard. It was dead in just three blows.

Two more approached from behind you, closest to Lev, and it was past time for you to be useful.

Lev was a skilled archer, but he was still a kid. And Yara, also a kid, only had use of one of her arms.

Both of the Demons were focused on Lev. He fired an arrow, hitting one of them in the chest, but it didn’t take it down.

Its back was to you.

You couldn’t let yourself freeze again.

You closed the distance between you and the beast, lifting your dagger with both hands and bringing it back down swiftly, piercing deeply through its skull.

It let out one last pained shriek as it fell.

The Wolf had taken out the other Demon before Lev had to loose another arrow.

But there were two more where those came from. One swung at the Wolf, and the other came for you.

You were able to dodge, narrowly missing the impact of its savage attack. Stepping back, you continued to evade its blows.

You swung at it, but the thing was fast. Your blade cut into its shoulder instead of its head. Ripping your weapon out, you tried again. This time, you hit your target.

That was two for you.

“Prophet, look out!” Yara shouted. Before you could discern which direction the threat was coming from, you were brutally thrown to the ground, the wind knocked out of you entirely.

Death wore the grisly face of the Demon standing above you.

You had dropped your dagger, leaving you completely defenseless.

Lev’s arrows pierced its throat twice.

It kept coming.

You blinked and it was on the ground. The Wolf knelt over it, hammer crashing over its skull repeatedly, past when the thing was decidedly dead, until the hammer actually broke in her hand.

You just blinked again.

She saved you.

Why did she save you?

You scrambled to your feet, your breaths coming too quickly.

You tried not to panic.

You had only almost died.

You were fine.

The Wolf dropped the splintered remnants of the hammer and stood, shaking out her hand. You stared as she walked over to where your dagger lay on the ground and bent to pick it up.

She looked at you for—as far as you could tell—the first time since you’d cut her down from the rope.

She walked over, holding your gaze.

You realized that she could kill you now. That that was likely why she had saved you.

So she could end you herself.

Because you were the Prophet, and a Seraphite. Or because you had nearly killed her before.

She could even do it with your own weapon. The one that had been meant for her.

You imagined that would be satisfying for a brutish Wolf.

As she approached, you noticed that she towered over you, making you doubly aware of the fact that this was not a fight you would win if it came down to it. Especially when you were unarmed.

She stopped when she stood only a couple feet in front of you, turning the dagger over in her hand and simply offering it to you, handle-first.

Dumbly, you slowly reached out and took it.

Her hand fell back to her side.

There was a hint of a smug little smile on her face, like she knew what you had been thinking.

“Try not to drop that again, yeah?” she said, voice low. It was the first time she’d spoken directly to you, and you resented the way it made your cheeks warm.

Before you could come up with a competent response, Yara interrupted.

“Prophet, Wolf! Come on. We have to move!” She held a lit torch in her uninjured hand. Lev stood at her side, ready to run.

“Where are you going?” the Wolf asked, unsure if she would be following. You were already moving to join Yara and Lev.

“Out of these woods. We’ve gotta run! Now! The coast is this way.”

They took off into the trees with you close behind. The sound of footsteps falling behind you informed you of the Wolf’s apparent decision to tag along, at least for the time being.

You could also hear more Demons, closing in on either side, chasing the torch’s light. Which meant they were after Yara.

You ran faster, trying to close the distance between you just in case.

As she passed an abandoned vehicle, one of the Demons jumped out, tackling her to the ground.

Lev shot an arrow through its head as you ran to her, pushing the dead Demon off and helping her back to her feet.

The horrifying chorus of even more of them, just beyond your vision, made you startle with each screech.

“They’re all around us!” Yara cried, moving closer to her brother.

The Wolf, weaponless after breaking the hammer, quickly looked around, finding a glass bottle. She grabbed it and threw it at the next creature that emerged from the forest.

The Demon slowed, momentarily stunned, and the Wolf wasted no time knocking it over and bringing her foot down on its skull hard and fast.

Just one stomp and it was dead.

You flushed again, transfixed.

Stupid.

You should not find that attractive.

But she was undeniably incredible.

You shook your head in an attempt to refocus as you turned to watch Lev take down another with a couple well-aimed shots.

A shriek behind you revealed the presence of yet another. You turned to meet it, killing the thing easily enough.

It seemed your training in combat had been sufficient after all, at least where Demons were concerned.

“That was the last of them,” Yara said.

“You guys okay?” the Wolf asked, like she might actually care.

“Yeah,” Lev breathed out, bow and arrow still at the ready.

“We have to keep moving before more come,” Yara insisted, taking up the lead again as she pressed forward.

You all ran after her.

“Every direction looks the same,” said the Wolf. You were inclined to agree. “You sure you know where you’re going?”

“It has to be this way,” Yara said, quietly determined.

“What the hell am I doing?” the Wolf muttered to herself under her breath.

The four of you picked up your speed as the Demons grew closer.

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Abby seriously had no idea what the hell she was doing.

She was running through the woods, fighting off Infected with three Scars.

And one of them was the Prophet.

Who had been fully intending to disembowel her not too long ago…

Something had to be wrong with her. Maybe it was brain damage from nearly suffocating.

Because this wasn’t like her.

A couple hours ago, Abby was killing Scars. Happily.

Well maybe that wasn’t the best word for it. It didn’t make her happy. She just didn’t feel bad about it.

And now, she was prancing through the forest and going out of her way to protect Scars?

The kids were one thing. They seemed to be just as in danger with other Scars as they were with the Infected.

What had that one woman called them? Apostates?

Abby had done enough reading to know what the word meant. She guessed they must have broken some stupid, insane rule and run off.

Or been kicked out.

Either way, from what Abby had gathered, they had gone rogue and were being hunted by their own people.

Which meant they weren’t necessarily her enemy.

But the other girl. The Prophet…

Abby didn’t know what was going on with you.

Were you going rogue too, or were your friends just dead and you needed help getting past the Infected and out of the woods?

And yeah, you had been about to kill her before. But you’d stopped as soon as there was a distraction. Took the out the second it was offered.

And then you had been the one to cut her down.

So maybe you didn’t want to kill her.

That counted for something, right?

Abby didn’t let herself think too much about how pretty you were.

How stunning your eyes looked when they met hers.

How your fingers felt, lightly grazing her bare skin for just a second, then leaving all too soon.

And how you had definitely blushed when she spoke to you.

See? She totally wasn’t thinking about any of that at all.

And she was probably delusional.

And way too distracted, spending any amount of time or energy thinking about such crazy shit while you were all actively running for your lives.

Abby was bringing up the rear of the group, and she knew a horde of Stalkers was not far behind her.

She really hoped these Scars knew where they were going.

“It’s just up here!” the girl, Yara, shouted from up ahead, leading the way to a wall of hanging vines.

The boy, Lev, pulled the vines aside, revealing an opening behind. Yara carefully but quickly maneuvered through. You waited until both she and Lev were on the other side before looking up at Abby expectantly.

There wasn’t time to argue, so Abby went next. You followed closely behind, then let the vines fall back into place, hiding your path from the Infected that pursued.

On the other side, Abby was met with the sight of several dead bodies, clearly recently slaughtered.

She couldn’t tell from this distance what had killed them. Or if they were Scar or WLF.

“Those are fresh. There another way around?” she asked, maneuvering around the corpses.

Lev spoke up. “If there were, would we be going this way?”

Okay. Fair point.

Yara pointed to a chain link fence with the torch. “Come on, Lev. Get it open.”

The kid tried to bend the steel wires up to create an opening. It didn’t budge, despite his efforts.

“Move,” Abby said. He did.

She strained as the piece of fencing gave way beneath her hands.

“Get in there, Prophet,” she said, teeth clenched.

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You quickly slid through the opening and popped up on the other side.

Finally, you were free of the suffocating forest.

The clearing was illuminated with light of the full moon.

You wandered on ahead as Lev, Yara, and the Wolf came through the fence behind you.

“Prophet?” A new voice spoke out as you turned the corner. The reverence in the person’s tone alone told you that you were dealing with a Seraphite.

You turned toward the voice to see a woman you recognized but whose name you couldn’t recall. She was large and stood tall, the side of her face bloody and a pickaxe in her grip.

She had been part of a patrolling squad in the area. You’d seen her briefly earlier in the day, with Emily, after the Wolf had been captured.

The woman saw that you were, in fact, who she thought you were, and she bowed her head out of respect.

“Are you alright, Prophet? What are you doing out here? Where is Emily?”

You were at a loss for words.

Her voice was calm and concerned now, but you knew that she would kill Lev, Yara, and the Wolf if given the chance.

“I—”

Your two friends entered the clearing behind you, drawing her eyes toward them.

“Apostates,” she hissed, and instantly her demeanor changed.

She rushed past you, ruthlessly throwing Yara to the ground and lifting Lev up by his neck.

You moved without thinking, your dagger still tightly clutched in your fingers. Again, you raised your arms above your head, just as you had done when fighting the Demons. Using all of your strength, you brought the blade down above her head, piercing her skull. The weapon was long enough that it exited through her chin.

Her body slackened and slumped to the ground. Dead.

You stared down at her, feeling the weight of what you had just done.

This wasn’t a Demon. It wasn’t an animal.

She was a living person.

And a Seraphite. One of your own people.

You were supposed to be her Prophet. Her leader. Her new hope.

She hadn’t been watching her back because she never imagined that you could betray your people like that. That you would pose a threat to her.

You continued to stare, holding your breath. You couldn’t look away.

You didn’t deserve to look away.

You felt a sob rising in your throat. Your eyes began to water.

No. You would not cry.

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Abby was the last to enter the clearing.

By then, the Scar was already holding Lev in the air, and you were already approaching from behind, lifting your dagger.

Abby watched as you killed her.

Woah.

You were good with that knife, she’d give you that.

Yara and Lev got back to their feet and watched as you stared down at the dead Scar, unmoving. Like you were frozen.

You weren’t even breathing, and you looked like you might cry.

Abby had been wondering how many WLF soldiers you killed today before you got to her. If the three she’d seen hanging when she first came to were yours.

Now, she was sure they weren’t.

Because based on your reaction, that had to be your first time.

She wasn’t usually one to be especially sensitive to the emotions of others, but when she heard you sniffle, finally taking in a ragged breath, she couldn’t help but move towards you.

Abby thought of her own first kill. How easy it was to do in the heat of the moment, but how torn up she’d been in the aftermath.

She understood that it was necessary, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard as hell.

She fought the urge to put a hand on your shoulder, or even rub your back soothingly. Reminded herself of who you were and who she was and all the reasons why she shouldn’t even be here right now.

Instead, she bent to retrieve your dagger from the body. She tried to hand it back to you, but you were still stuck, staring down.

“Hey. You did a good job.” She took your hand in hers, placing the handle into your palm and closing your fingers around it. She didn’t let go, allowing her hands to fully encompass yours.

Abby waited until you met her eyes. “You saved them,” she said, nodding towards Lev and Yara, who were both silently watching this unfold. “You did what you had to do.”

You drew your eyebrows together at that, like you wanted to argue. But you seemed to change your mind, ultimately just nodding your head lightly.

She let her hands drop and glanced back down at the slumped body again, her eyes catching on something.

“Wait. Is that my backpack?” Abby asked, looking more closely.

Beside her, you lifted your shoulder in a half-hearted shrug.

“Probably. Emily gave it to her earlier,” you said numbly.

Abby didn’t need to ask who Emily was. She could guess.

She reclaimed her belongings while you pulled yourself together.

“Are you two alright?” you asked the siblings.

“Yes, Prophet,” Lev answered, watching you closely. Abby noticed that you seemed to bristle ever so slightly at his use of your title. You didn’t say anything though.

She held her rifle in her hands again, happy to have her stuff back.

Especially the guns.

Wordlessly, the Scar kids led the way into the nearest building.

Out of habit, Abby began gathering supplies as you went along, taking ammo and medical supplies and anything else that seemed useful.

“How’s the arm?” she asked Yara, breaking the long stretch of silence.

“I have it under control,” the girl insisted defensively.

“Okay…” Abby took a box of ammo from a cabinet. “Grab any supplies you find.”

“We can’t touch this stuff. It’s Old World,” Lev said, like that should’ve been obvious.

“Are you fu---? You need supplies. We’re not out of the woods yet.” She opened and then shut a drawer. “Pun fucking intended.”

“What’s a pun?” Lev asked from another room.

Abby didn’t have the energy to answer that question.

Instead she said, “I’ve never seen Scars go after Scars like that before.”

“Seraphites,” you and Lev corrected in unison as you explored different rooms of the building.

Again, she ignored. “So what the hell did you do?”

“I shaved my head,” Lev answered simply.

Abby scoffed. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”

The group passed through building after dilapidated building, heading towards the coast. At least in theory.

“We’re almost there,” Yara said. “Just a little farther.”

She led the way down a steep drop-off into another run-down building. One where you wouldn’t be able to get back out the same way you went in.

“Now what?” Abby threw out, tired and frustrated.

“I’m quite confident it’s this way.”

“Quite confident?” Abby repeated incredulously.

“You don’t have to follow us,” Lev pointed out.

“You want me to leave you three out here alone?” Abby shot back.

Your response was an immediate and insistent, almost panicked, “No!”

Everyone else turned to you, surprised.

“Let’s just get out of here,” Lev offered.

Abby found the front doors, but they were held firmly closed by a metal gate on the outside.

Above the door was a large opening, too high for Abby to pull herself out of, but not too high for someone to climb through with a boost.

“If you get us through there, we’ll open the gate,” Lev said.

Abby remembered again that these were Scars she was dealing with. And like hell was she going to boost you all up to safety just so you could leave her stranded here.

“Get them out,” you said, as if you could read her mind. “I’ll stay with you.”

Lev started to protest but stopped after one shake of your head.

Abby nodded. “Okay. Come on.”

He gave you one last look before walking over to her, stepping into her open hands and pulling himself through the opening.

“Your turn.” Abby looked at Yara. “Watch that arm.” She carefully helped the injured girl maneuver up and out.

The all too familiar shriek of Infected sounded off behind you, coming from deeper in the building.

On the other side of the doors, Lev pushed at the gate. It wouldn’t budge.

“The gate’s stuck!”

“Fuck! Hurry up!” Abby looked back and forth between the door and the direction the Infected were coming from.

“We’ll look for another way!” Yara said, and the two of them disappeared from view.

Abby tried to stay calm and prepared herself for the inevitable fight.

“They’re not going to leave me,” you said, drawing her attention. You held your knife at the ready, rolling your shoulders back.

She didn’t respond, not sure if she believed you.

“They won’t,” you reiterated.

“I hope you’re right, Prophet.” She offered one of the weapons from her stash. “You ever shot a gun before?”

You shook your head but accepted the firearm anyway.

“Come here. I’ll show you.”

What Abby hoped would only be a few Infected turned out to be an entire horde. Runners, Stalkers, Clickers, and even a couple Shamblers.

You were fighting them off like a champ.

Seriously. She was impressed.

You’d kept the gun, watched her rushed demonstration on how to operate it, but ultimately chose to primarily stick with the dagger.

Both of you had been fighting for several minutes as you moved through the building. No sign of the other two Scars. Abby had pretty much resigned herself to needing to find her own way out.

She cleared the room she was in, lowering her weapon to take a breather.

You were in the next room, and it sounded like you had cleared that one out too.

The only warning Abby had before she felt the blow was you urgently shouting, “Wolf!”

A Stalker that she failed to notice had her pinned to the ground, knocking her rifle from her grip in the process.

It reared its head back as Abby struggled, fighting to get it off her.

A gunshot rang out, and the Infected slumped, lifeless.

She shoved it off her and sat up to see you standing there, borrowed gun still aimed and ready.

“Good girl!” Abby exclaimed, beaming up at you from where she sat on the floor.

Wait.

What the fuck?

She meant to say “good job”…

Actually, she hadn’t meant to say anything.

You lowered the weapon. Based on the look on your face, you were just as taken aback by her use of those words as Abby was. Although, she managed to keep it from showing on her face. Mostly.

She stood quickly and fumbled through a recovery. “Good shot. That was—I mean—It was a good… A good shot. Good job.”

You smiled softly at Abby’s obvious display of nerves, walking over to where her rifle had fallen when she was attacked.

You picked it up and returned it to her.

“Try not to drop that again, yeah?” you said, mimicking the teasing tone Abby had used when she said those same words to you earlier that night.

She made a face. Something that was equal parts embarrassment and amusement.

“Prophet! Over here!” came Lev’s quiet voice from the next room.

You shot Abby an I told you so look before the two of you ran after the sound.

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When Yara collapsed, the Wolf picked her up and carried her.

You listened as she quietly comforted your dear friend, encouraging her to keep breathing and promising to find somewhere to rest soon.

Your heart felt soft for her in that moment.

Or maybe you were just exhausted.

Lev led the group with you in the back, gun drawn and alert to the best of your current abilities.

You entered a clearing, full of enormous metal boxes and small, raised buildings. All things from the Old World that you had never seen before and didn’t have words for.

The Wolf instructed Lev to start checking the doors of all the small buildings. It took a few tries before he found one that was open.

The inside was in noticeably better shape than any other structure you’d seen on the mainland, with a few simple, fully intact pieces of furniture.

You watched as the Wolf moved through the first small room and into the second, carefully setting Yara down on the couch. She went over to the windows, checking again to make sure the four of you hadn’t been followed.

When Yara began to slowly remove her overshirt, you were quick to help, being especially careful with her injured arm.

It was swollen and bright red from her elbow down to her fingertips, visibly mangled. You had to bite back a gasp.

Lev stood on the other side of the room, a horribly worried expression on his face.

It wouldn’t be helpful for you to panic now.

“Hey,” you said to him, light and encouraging, drawing his gaze to you and away from his hurt older sister. “It just needs to be set. Okay?”

You turned your eyes to the Wolf who was still hovering by the window. “You know how to do that?”

The face she made confirmed what you already knew. Yara needed much more than just for the arm to be set.

Still, the Wolf walked over, instructing Lev to cut the discarded overshirt into strips and telling Yara to lean back.

You helped her, kneeling on the floor by the side of the couch where her head lay, ready to assist in any way you could.

“I’m gonna move it, okay?” said the Wolf.

“Okay.”

They were both speaking so softly.

“You ready?” she asked.

Yara nodded, reaching her uninjured hand out for one of yours. You held it, letting her squeeze as tightly as she needed to.

The crunching noise the arm made as it was set nearly made you sick.

Yara let out a series of pained noises, panting and grunting. You used your free hand to gently brush the loose strands of her hair from her face, tucking them behind her ears.

You whispered that the worst was over, and that she would be okay now.

You didn’t know if that was true, but you hoped it comforted her a little.

The Wolf broke a leg off a wooden chair, took the newly cut strips of fabric that Lev offered, and went to work bracing the newly-set arm, using the chair leg as a splint.

Yara watched the Wolf’s face.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

The Wolf secured the last piece of cloth before she answered, meeting Yara’s gaze.

“Abby,” she said.

She stood, looking to Lev and then to you.

“I should go,” the Wolf—Abby—said.

You stood too, to walk her out.

Lev quickly filled in the space that you left, kneeling in the same spot and taking Yara’s waiting hand in his.

Abby grabbed her backpack and followed you into the first room, toward the door.

You paused, turning to face her.

“Are you—” You wanted to ask where she was going. What she would do next. Really, if you were being honest, you didn’t want her to go at all.

But you didn’t have the right to ask for any of those things, so instead you went with, “Are you okay?”

You gestured to your neck, meaning to indicate the dark, noose-shaped bruises that circled her own throat.

It felt like so long ago that she’d been hanging in front of you, unfortunate to find herself on the wrong end of your dagger. But, realistically, only a couple of hours had gone by.

She cleared her throat, her own fingers instinctively ghosting over the marks.

“Oh umm… Yeah. It’ll be fine.” She waited a beat before adding, “Thanks for cutting me down.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, considering it was technically your fault she needed to be cut down in the first place.

You settled on a nod and a tight smile.

She turned to go, twisting the doorhandle and stepping back out into the rain.

Before you could close the door behind her, she looked back and said, “This area gets a lot of traffic. Whatever shape she’s in…” Abby leaned closer, hand on the door frame, “You need to get out of here by tomorrow.”

Again, you nodded. “We’ll be fine.”

She held your gaze for a moment longer before she turned and walked down the steps.

You shut and locked the door.

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As Abby walked away from the office trailer, she couldn’t help the images that came to mind.

She kept envisioning you and Lev and Yara, dead.

Hanged and gutted by the Scars.

Or shot by the WLF.

Or ripped to shreds by Infected.

She had real responsibilities. A friend to look for. A whole community counting on her.

She had a war to get back to.

But if she left now, would she always wonder about what happened to you?

The urge to stay near you—to protect you—was so overwhelming. She didn’t know where it was coming from or what she should do with it.

You were not safe, but she knew you were much safer with her.

Isaac had warned her that the first Scar Prophet had been able to make even the most dedicated soldiers turn on a dime. He said that with just a few carefully chosen words, she could make a person question where their loyalties lied.

It had seemed so ridiculous just that morning, but now you were doing the same thing to Abby.

You were in her head.

But this didn’t feel like manipulation.

She didn’t know what it was that drew her to you, but it felt real. Natural. And entirely unintentional.

Or maybe she was reading you all wrong, and you really were a master manipulator.

Abby needed to make a decision. Because she was currently standing still in the pouring rain with the trailer still in view.

She chose to trust her gut.

And her gut was telling her to turn around. To stay with you.

Owen would have to wait.

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Note: Thank you to anyone who’s read all three chapters of this! The fact that literally anyone has is absolutely bonkers to me. I’ve already learned so much about myself as a writer since I started writing fics a couple weeks ago. For example, this week I learned that I DO NOT enjoy writing fight scenes… Unfortunately it was thoroughly unavoidable for this chapter. Regardless, I really hope it was interesting to read, and I’m looking forward to fleshing out the relationship between Abby and my reader more and more!

[genericpuff]

So I recently read Episode 263 and it made me think about Persephone’s hair again

I haven’t thought about it much since early LO, but I sort of found it strange her hair didn’t grow this episode? From my understanding, she was (and has been) super stressed over the mortal realm, and I thought her hair would reflect that. It sort of surprised me that the pixie cut didn’t change.

I haven’t gone back to check extensively, but I remember her hair grew extremely long when she under heavy stress or felt strong emotions in early LO. I can’t tell if I’m misremembering her hair, if Rachel changed Persephone’s hair/mood reflection thing, or if Rachel just didn’t use it this episode for some reason??

It's wild how we went from Persephone's hair growing during stressful occasions and even at will-

-to Persephone just having the permanent Rachel-style glued down haircut even when it would make more sense for her hair to grow. Honestly I wouldn't mind her short hair quite as much if it didn't look so lazy ? It's literally just a bald head with lines drawn on it half the time 😭 Like the red 'wrath' eyes it kind of lost all meaning over time (especially because, again, she can grow it at will anyways, which is similar to the red eyes where she gets them when she's angry, stressed, horny, etc.)

Though I've seen a theory that it's because her fertility powers are fully gone so maybe? But we have seen her with long hair since she ate the pomegranate so IDK how much merit that has. I feel like it's more just Rachel not wanting to draw her with long hair because it's more work :'0 (and because Persephone looks more like Rachel with short hair and, let's be real, Rachel's fully in her "use the self-insert as a mouthpiece for personal venting towards the audience" phase atm).

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Part 2 of Eri in Demon Slayer but it’s during Tanjiro and Nezuko’s trial?

Eri is surprised seeing a new face tied up in the group with Sanami on top of him (It’s Tanjiro)

After the trial with the Kamado’s, Eri’s been peaking around looking at Tanjiro from behind doors

This caught Shinobu’s attention, as she can’t help but giggle seeing how shy Eri is wanting to meet new people

-You peeked around the corner, keeping hidden, after you heard loud shouting, going to investigate what was going on.

-Your eyes went wide, seeing a boy being held down by Sanemi as there was a box up in the shadows of the mansion, a little girl sitting there inside the box, a piece of bamboo over her mouth.

-From listening to what was going on, this little girl, Nezuko, was a demon, but unlike other demons, she wasn’t violent or blood thirsty, something Tanjiro, the boy being pinned down, was telling Ubuyashiki, defending her.

-The Hashira didn’t believe Tanjiro, thinking all demons were bad, but Nezuko was just sitting there, confused as to what was going on, while looking concerned for her brother, but she couldn’t do anything, as the sun would burn her.

-After confirming that Nezuko wasn’t going to attack any of them, Ubuyashiki agreed to allow Tanjiro and Nezuko to stay with the Demon Slayers but did give Tanjiro a warning that if Nezuko were to attack any of them, they would deal with her.

-You were surprised to see Tanjiro, once he was free, rush to his sister, hugging her close, elated that she wasn’t killed, and some, like Mitsuri and Rengoku thought it was sweet, seeing what a good big brother that he was.

-Shinobu saw movement off to the side and she smiled softly, seeing you peeking out, seeing you being so shy. From what they were able to gather, you were shy around new people, strangers you called them, and based on what they were able to learn about your past, you had a good reason to be nervous.

-Mitsuri came over to you, smiling warmly before picking you up, “Do you want to meet them Y/N?” she could see that you were curious, but feeling a bit shy but you nodded, and she beamed, happy little flowers appearing around her as she brought you over to the Kamado siblings where Giyuu and Rengoku both were as well.

-Tanjiro was surprised to see you, another little child with a horn on your head, but unlike Nezuko, you weren’t a demon, but he smiled warmly, greeting you and you couldn’t help but smile, he felt so warm.

-Nezuko was curious about you after Mitsuri held you in her lap, coming over in her child form, and cupped your cheeks with her hands, being gentle.

-You were surprised before you smiled and you mimicked her, cupping her cheeks and she called out happily behind her mouthpiece.

-Mitsuri was pretty sure she was going to die of cuteness while you and Nezuko played with each other’s hands, inspecting each other- she could tell that you were a normal human, just with a horn on your head, which meant that she was going to protect you.

-You were a bit shy with Tanjiro, but he was nice, patting your head and Nezuko’s head, treating you both like little sisters, happy to see the two of you getting along.

-Shinobu couldn’t help but smile behind her hand, seeing both Sanemi and Genya peeking around a corner, stacked on top of each other, watching scene, making sure that you were safe- the two brothers were so shy with their affections towards you- you were their precious little sister, after getting them wrapped around your finger easily.

-Shinobu would cherish that memory forever, seeing them being so protective over you.

[andypantsx3]

something in the water | 2 | shouto x reader

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Fem Reader

length: 5.2k | 2nd of 6 chapters

summary: As a future marine biologist, you’ve scored big on your final internship: a summer in the tropics, researching the waters off the coast of a lush, sunny island. But what you thought would be all beach days and piña coladas turns out to be the revelation of a lifetime when you haul in a handsome merprince, and discover not everything in these waters is quite as it seems.

tags/warnings: mermaid au, interspecies relationships, mating rituals/courting behavior, (sort of) case fic, aged up characters, eventual smut, fem pronouns/afab reader

series masterlist

You stared at the man in the water, your mouth falling open.

The snorkel mouthpiece dropped right out of it, leaving a wet streak down your chin. You quickly tore your goggles back off, convinced the glass was somehow distorting your vision.

The man in the water blinked back at you. His eyes darted over your body quickly, twin flashes of color, as if assessing a threat. You could see his left eye was the vibrant turquoise blue of the surrounding waters, the right a dark stormy gray, like the clouds of a tropical storm. His hair was as evenly-split as his eye color, snowy white on the right and a fiery red on the left, slicked back from his face with ocean water.

And his face. His face.

He was easily the most beautiful man you had ever seen, and you felt the breath punch out of your lungs just looking at him. His mouth was so soft and sensuous, his nose high-bridged and sweet, at complete odds with the strong, masculine sweep of his jawline. A pink scar circled his left eye, somehow intensifying its color.

Every single one of his features were so precise, so symmetrical that a shiver went up your spine, and something about the way they all fit together had all the lights in your brain flickering out, one by one.

And then his perfect, plush mouth moved, shifting suddenly into a vicious snarl. He let out a hiss, the likes of which you’d never heard before, and your vision seized on a set of very sharp canines set into the sides of his mouth. Incredibly, inhumanly sharp canines, that was.

“Holy shit,” you said, your focus snapping away from his mouth as a long-fingered hand came up to grasp the net over him—a hand tinted a deep crimson red, tipped with pointed claws. Your heartbeat kicked into your throat, and your gaze traveled under the water, down a powerful chest and across a long, sinuous, red-and-white flecked thing that was most assuredly not a pair of legs.

And that’s when you realized.

This man was not a man.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you breathed, stumbling back from the edge of the boat. Your foot caught on the upturned plate, sending you sprawling over the back seat to land hard on your ass.

A snarling hiss sounded over the side of the boat, accompanied by a slapping sound, and another wave of water arced up over the side.

The slap of water to your face helped you return to your senses, and you realized he—or, it—the thing in the water with the human face was caught in your net, and you had no idea what that meant for him. Some species needed to swim to keep oxygen-rich water flowing over their gills.

And just because this guy–er, creature–had a human face and hands didn’t mean that’s where he breathed from. As you thought this, the sounds of his thrashing grew even more panicked.

You grabbed the seat you’d fallen over, hauling yourself upright, and crept to the edge of the boat, receiving another wave of water in the chest for your troubles.

You unhooked one of the emergency oars along the side, shoving it out to draw part of the net back towards you. The creature in the water hissed again, eyes snapping to the movement of your oar, and he seemed to try to retreat from it as far as the netting would allow.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, I’m not gonna hurt you,” you chanted in a squeaky, panicked tone that you were sure did nothing to calm him. “Oh my god please don’t hurt me back. I’m gonna get the net off you,” you promised him.

He thrashed harder, those blood-red claws swiping at the oar as you managed to hook it through one of the holes in the net, and quickly drew it back towards you.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you moaned as a claw raked a deep gouge into the top of the oar.

You wondered for a wild moment, if you shouldn’t just leave him, run back to the wheel and start the boat as fast as you could. You wanted to be as far away from those claws as possible once this dude had been freed.

But another look at the panic in his eyes as he thrashed about told you you couldn’t. Not if it meant this creature would potentially drown. You carefully reached out a hand, grabbing the net off the end of the oar.

“Okay, I’m just gonna pull this up until it comes untangled,” you said, though it didn’t look like he was hearing you at all. He leveled another snarling hiss in your direction.

A lightning bolt of adrenaline shot through you, numbing your hands, tingling down your spine. “Oh my god come off of it, asshole,” you said, in a wild moment of insane bravery. “I’m just gonna let you out and then I’m gonna drive away and literally never, ever come back here.”

He cast a long look at you, blinking, seeming to calm for a second. Then he made a motion towards you, those claws reaching out again, and you bit off a scream.

“If you try to take my hand off, I will use this oar on you,” you promised him darkly. “I will knock all those sharp teeth right out of your mouth, do not try me.”

The creature paused, blinking again, those heterochromatic eyes flashing up to yours.

You watched him in mutual shock, your hands shaking on the net.

“Uh, okay yeah. Can you understand me? Probably not but, uh, good. Calm,” you said, trying to sound coaxing. “I’m not gonna hurt you, uh, unless you hurt me. Right? Totally no reason for anyone to do any hurting out here.”

The creature’s tail beat, but he made no other movements, even as you raised your hands again, drawing the net upwards so that it started to separate. It tipped him over a little bit, and he spun in the water like a burrito coming unrolled.

You had to stifle something between a horrified sob and a laugh. You kept up a stream of inane commentary in the lowest, calmest tone you could manage, which wasn’t very calm or low at all. “Okay, looking good. Just a little bit more. And we’re definitely not going to attack each other when this is over. I’m just some random biologist and you’re just some random, uh, sea guy…Which is very cool and normal…”

To your surprise, however, he let himself be rolled gently, until finally the net came free, and you quickly hauled it back over the side of the boat. He whipped back around to face you, and you took a startled step back, fumbling for your oar.

“No, do not come over here. Your face is very handsome and I would hate to break every single bone in it,” you said, waving the oar at him threateningly.

He just watched you, floating there in the water, staring weirdly.

You observed him, waiting for any sign of movement, the both of you entered in some strange marine standoff. But he made no further moves, and you thought if you booked it, you might just be able to get out of there without getting your eyes clawed out.

You hurriedly dropped your oar and clambered for the front of the boat, throwing yourself at the throttle and gunning the engine. The motor rumbled to life again, completely deafening, and you quickly steered the boat back the way you’d come from. Water sprayed out behind you, leaving a thick white bubbling trail, under which you lost sight of the man in the water.

He didn’t seem to follow you, however. You hightailed it all the way back to the main port, barely managing the appropriate docking knots with your shaking fingers. You threw yourself back onto the dock and raced ashore, your heartbeat only kicking back down once you’d made it safely onto the main street, where groups of tourists were poking through gift shops, queueing outside the various food and juice vendors, and chattering at the tables outside the open air restaurants.

You stumbled all the way back to the inn, a journey roughly fifteen minutes longer on foot than by jeep. Yu caught you on your way in, coming back from the office with a cup of iced coffee in hand, and she frowned as she looked you over.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, kid,” she said, pulling down her sunglasses. You watched her brow furrow in thought.

“No!” you said quickly, though why you rushed to deny it was beyond you. “No, nothing like that just—one of the nets was shredded and I didn’t think to bring a spare.”

Yu’s frown deepened. “Shredded?”

You nodded. “Yeah like something—uh, or someone—cut through it. It was totally done for.”

Her gaze sharpened over the tops of her lenses. “Someone?”

You swallowed, the memory of heterochromatic eyes and claw-tipped fingers flashing before your eyes. “Um. Yeah maybe. It didn’t look to be um, a shark or anything. It was torn too cleanly in too many places.”

For some reason Yu looked excited. “Like a diving knife? You think it could be Sunfish?”

After glimpsing those wicked claws yourself, you had absolutely no doubt what had been at work on that net. But after a moment’s hesitation you nodded, saying vaguely, “Uh, could be. Maybe.”

Yu hummed to herself, tossing a blonde lock over her shoulder as she gestured you back inside her bungalow. She drew you up your usual chair by the observation equipment, slurping loudly from her iced coffee. “We’ll have to keep an eye on them,” she said, a touch of relish in her voice that you did not like at all. You were learning that Takeyama Yu always enjoyed a good fight.

You gulped, settling down uneasily in the chair. You hoped she did not mean for you to go back to the reef too soon—though if that creature was smart he would have cleared out by now.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. You watched blankly as she clicked back into her monitoring windows, and nodded on auto-pilot as pointed out a couple things she’d noticed while you were gone. Your mind was elsewhere, back on the reef, replaying the events that had just occurred.

You couldn’t make sense of anything, didn’t know what to think.

All you could say was that you thought you might have, possibly, unbelievably, encountered a real life merman. You didn’t know what to make of that.

—

The next few days did not clear things up.

In fact, they seemed to make everything worse.

You went through your daily tasks, monitoring observation stations, maintaining equipment and carting things back and forth between all the professionals on your team. Yu loaned you out to Kamui for testing and you spent an afternoon hunched over a microscope, comparing slides of microbes, endlessly piping and staining. You prepped batches of slides to be mailed back to the main lab for more extensive testing, and learned more about water acidity than you ever had in any of your university lectures.

But over all of this activity loomed the shadow of the thing you’d seen in the water. Every time you took the boat out to rebait a station or resample the water, you couldn’t help but look over your shoulder. Even worse than the reef shark, you thought every shadow was the merman in waiting, every slash of red the merman’s clawed hands reaching towards you, every movement in the corner of your eye the last thing you might ever see. You eventually made it back to the reef and deployed a new net, and you thought your heart was going to punch straight through your chest, it was pounding so hard.

You never caught sight of the man in the water again, but somehow, some way, you felt like you were still being watched.

Although maybe that was just paranoia.

Almost worse than your daily heart attacks though, was the data you were gathering. The results of Kamui’s testing and Yu’s observations weren’t lining up with the initial reports that had prompted your presence in the first place. A sample sent with the report had showed incredibly high levels of chemical pollution, and though you were finding some thinning of expected populations and slight microbial unhealthiness, none of it was lining up with the expected levels given in the whistleblower report.

The report had been anonymous, so there was no telling where the sample had come from.

But you couldn’t help but wonder if somehow you were monitoring the wrong places.

Remembering Izuku’s friendly chatter from the day you arrived, you eventually dug out your phone again, clicking into the address for Kacchan that Izuku had provided. You wondered if, as a local gatherer, he might have a better read on where things were, and where you were going wrong.

A quick follow up conversation with Izuku in the main office revealed that Kacchan’s real name was Bakugou Katsuki, and that he had the day off today, to Izuku’s knowledge. Armed with that information, you followed directions back out of the dirt drive onto the main lane, following it for a few hundred feet until it pulled off again into another dirt path. You made your way down it through the thick tropical growth, until it spat you out into another cleared drive on which a jeep was parked.

There was a small, whitewashed house behind it, almost right up against the sand of the beach. A row boat was pulled up onto the sand, and further out into the water you could see a motorboat anchored. It had been painted a dark grey, at odds with the tropical surroundings, and you could just make out vibrant orange lettering spelling out the boat’s name—the Fuyumi.

You could see a man on the beach, padding across the sand to the rowboat, several waterproof bags and boxes in hand. He was blonde and just as well-muscled as Izuku had been, his skin littered with the same workman’s scars.

“Um, hello!” you called. The man whipped around, a red-eyed glare meeting your curious gaze.

“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded, his voice a low growl.

You blinked, slightly unnerved by this greeting. “I’m, um, Y/N. I’m a marine biologist.” The man’s glare didn’t waver. “Um, well, intern.”

“And?” he asked in the most impatient tones you’d ever heard.

You tried to push down a sudden annoyance. You needed details from this man. It wouldn’t do to flip on him straight away.

“Izuku said you work as a chef at the resort. He says you collect a lot of local ingredients?”

Bakugou scowled. “What of it.”

It wasn’t phrased as a question, but you answered anyway. “I’m with a team who’s looking into the possibilities of over-fishing and wastewater pollution in local waters. I was just curious where you collect plants, where you fish, and if you’ve noticed any particular changes over the past couple of months?”

For a brief second, you thought the harsh line of Bakugou’s mouth softened, and he blinked. But moments more and it was gone, replaced by a distrustful look. “Sunfish’re scum but I don’t have any info. All my plants and shit are fine. Fish too, if maybe thinned a little.”

You quickly drew out your phone again, clicking into the notes app. “You’ve noticed a population decline then? For any particular species?”

Bakugou let down his waterproof containers to cross those intimidating arms over his chest. “I fish for barramundi.”

You quickly noted that down. “Can you describe what you’ve noticed in terms of decline?”

Bakugou scowled again. “The fuck is there to describe? They’re harder to catch because there are less of them.”

You suppressed an eyeroll. “Okay. Anything else you can tell me?”

Bakugou’s mouth thinned. “No.”

You sighed, then tucked your phone away in your pocket again. “Alright. Last thing. Just—is there a particular spot you usually fish for them?”

Bakugou looked like the last thing he wanted to do was tell you, but he finally pronounced, “By the reef on the north side.”

Your skin prickled with the memory of the creature you’d encountered at the reef. You wondered, wildly, if that creature—that merman—had anything to do with the fish populations thinning. Maybe he was an invasive species—an over-hunter. Maybe it was nothing to do with Sunfish LLC at all…

That would explain why you were finding less significant microbial change than you had expected, even if the native species’ populations were declining.

You nodded in understanding. “Okay. Thanks for the details.”

Bakugou said nothing, seeming to wait for you to leave.

You cast another eye out over the beach, to the rowboat he’d been heading towards and back out to the motorboat anchored offshore. Even from this distance you could tell it was a much nicer model than the ones your team had rented out, and judging by the meticulous, clearly-custom paint job, it was well loved. Your gaze wandered over the vibrant orange script again.

“Who is Fuyumi?” you wondered.

Suddenly every fiber in Bakugou’s body went stiff—even more impossibly angry than before. “Get the fuck off of my property right the fuck now,” he said.

Your eyes darted back to his. His crimson gaze was somehow intensified even more, and you got the sense that if you did not find your own way out, he’d very well show you the hard way.

You gulped. “Right. Okay. Thanks for your time. I’ll, um, just be going.”

Bakugou grunted, his arms crossing tighter over his chest.

You turned on your heel, edging into a quick trot back up the dirt drive. Bakugou watched you the entire way, and you met his crimson glare as you looked over your shoulder just before you made it back into the dense tropical foliage. You followed the path back out onto the main road, ruminating on your encounter.

For the little help that he’d provided, you got the distinct sense that there was something Bakugou hadn’t told you, something he was deliberately withholding from you. But there was no telling what that might be, and there was no way you were going to be able to pry it out of a guy like that.

You sighed as you followed the driveway back to the inn, waving at Izuku at the front desk as you passed, and made your way back into Yu’s bungalow to report what you’d gotten out of Bakugou. She decided you’d take a trip back out to the reef tomorrow to have a more careful look around—a directive that sent a swarm of shivers down your spine. You really, really hoped that merman had moved on by now.

You spent the rest of the day re-reviewing old footage with particular focus on barramundi, trying to annotate where in the footage you’d seen some and how many members were in their school.

When work finally wrapped up you trekked back to the port to have dinner and drinks with the entire crew, catching the team up on the interview you’d had with Bakugou, and listening to their updates in turn. Kamui had apparently had no further luck in testing, Masaki had nothing conclusive in terms of counting yet, and Death Arms was still locked in some sort of political stalemate with Sunfish LLC over when you’d be able to get onto the premises to inspect the property itself.

Dinner wasn’t a total wash though. You managed a pina colada, pleased at the stereotypical tropicality of the choice, and spent most of the evening entertained, watching Kamui defend his plate from Yu’s wandering utensils and listening to Masaki recount previous field operations he’d taken part in. Before the internship, you’d sort of assumed you’d always work out of a lab, but you were growing enamored with the idea of field work, especially when it might take you to another place like Yuuei.

The team went their separate ways after dinner, retreating to your individual bungalows. The sun was still setting by the time you made it back inside, though—and still fuzzy with good food and your pina colada, you thought it was high time you spent some time on the beach, especially with a view like this one.

You made your way down onto the sand and plopped down at the edge of the water to watch the evening deepen. The beach’s view was mostly southern, but the color of the setting sun spilled generously across the horizon like watercolor, and you still appreciated the effect on the slice of sky you could see. The water was darker, a deep indigo in the oncoming twilight, and the waves lapped gently at the shore. It was so unbelievably beautiful, and you thought again that field work might be your calling.

You made a note to ask Masaki how he’d gotten into his line of work, and options for you to do the same.

You were absently tracing out a note to that effect in the soft sand when the sound of splashing roused you from your trance. You just managed to jerk your head up in time as something warm and wet closed around your ankle.

Before you could even scream, you were being dragged into the shallows. The water closed above your head, filling your mouth, gargling your panicked shout.

You struggled for a moment, kicking out, splashing water everywhere. Your eyes had closed instinctively, so you didn’t see whoever grabbed you, but suddenly you were being righted, your face guided back above the surface by a strong hand. The grip of another stayed clamped, vicelike, around your left ankle.

You spluttered and coughed, blinking your eyes open against the seawater. The water stung your eyes and at the back of your throat, and then the inside of your nose as you inhaled sharply at the sight of the handsome face peering back at you.

It was the merman from the reef.

He was poised over you, his handsome face only inches away from yours, his mouth a serious slash. Little droplets of water beaded on his skin and collected on the tips of his long lashes. You could see the careful tension in the line of one well-muscled arm, feel it in the clawed fingers that were still clamped around your chin, keeping your head above water.

You let out a weird gurgling noise, freezing in his hold.

“Holy shit don’t kill me,” you said.

Those heterochromatic eyes blinked, then traced over your features slowly, consideringly.

“I swear I did not say a thing about you,” you babbled, horrified. “Literally nothing. I was so quiet, like nuclear launch code levels of tight lipped, okay? I was so mum about everything so there’s no reason to get revenge, right?”

The man’s eyes dipped to your mouth as you spoke, as if mystified by your human babble. You instantly quieted, not wanting to irritate him further.

And then he opened his mouth. And out came an unnervingly human set of words.

“You let me go.”

He spoke in a low tone, smooth and soft, like the quiet rumble of waves at a distance. But there was something behind it too, something you felt like you could feel behind your teeth, a bioelectric hum somewhere in the depths of your brain. A shiver went down your spine.

Your mouth fell open against his claws. “You can talk?”

You watched his mouth shift minutely, pursing, like he was annoyed with the way you’d phrased this.

“As can you,” he said blandly.

Well of course you could talk! You were a person using person words!!! But he was—he was—

“But you’re a….sea….dude.”

His mouth quirked on one side, just barely perceptible. “A merman is the term, as far as I am aware.”

You didn’t dare ask how he was aware of anything people called him. But it certainly implied that you were not the first human this guy had come across.

But if other humans had come across this merman before, you didn’t doubt you would have heard about it by now. The existence of merpeople was not exactly a topic to keep quiet on. Which meant—which meant—

“Are you about to kill me?” you asked fearfully, becoming all-to-aware again of the prick of claws at your chin and ankle. Claws that had shredded the net at the reef like it was nothing, that had gouged deep welts in the oar you’d used to free him.

The merman looked perturbed. “Not if you answer my questions.”

You gulped. “Okay yes—yes I am an open book! Whatever you want to ask me, I will tell you! I am so open, you will not believe how open—”

A claw against your mouth silenced you, and that little shiver went up your spine again. Your eyes darted back up to the merman’s. Up close, you could see that he had a scar around his left eye, the skin a deep, dusky pink. It made the electric blue of his iris stand out that much more.

“Why did you let me go?” he asked, a white eyebrow raising.

You opened your mouth carefully, and he removed his fingers. “Is there…a reason I wouldn’t let you go?”

Those heterochromatic eyes narrowed on you. “Humans are dangerous.”

You couldn’t help the way your eyes trailed down to his claws again, then flicked back up to those sharp canines. You didn’t think you were the dangerous one in this scenario. Plus, you were a good person. What the hell were you supposed to do with a captured merman? Put him in a zoo?

“Yeah that’s why I grabbed you and pulled you out into the shallows,” you said, slightly offended by the implication.

Both his eyebrows went up, and he leaned a little further into you. You splashed backwards, as far as his grip on you would allow, which wasn’t much.

“You threw a net on me,” he said, his tone accusatory.

“Not on purpose,” you said. “I didn’t even know you were there. I was doing my job.”

“Which is?” he prompted.

“I’m a marine biologist. Uh, intern. We’re monitoring Yuuei coastal waters for adverse effects from, um, a cannery.”

“Sunfish,” he said.

You blinked, surprised. “Oh, you know it?”

A frown marred that perfect mouth. “Yes. They are not to be trusted.” As he said it, there was a scraping feeling behind your teeth, attached to that weird bioelectric tingle that his every word left curling in your brain. You could quite literally sense his dislike.

A strange feeling crept over you, and you remembered Bakugou implying something similar not hours ago. What exactly was it that everyone seemed to know except you? And how would a merman of all people know?

“Then, they are doing something bad out here?” you asked, curious.

“Their nets are dangerous for my kind, and they are growing ever more present,” the merman’s eyes flickered up and down your face again, like you might be at fault for the proliferation of nets instead.

“Hey, we’re just testing different environments,” you held your hands up. “We’re catching and releasing, we just want to take a look at a couple different species, count them, and see how they’re doing. We’ll be gone in just a few weeks.”

The merman looked you over for a long moment, as if assessing the veracity of this claim. His gaze slowly trailed down your body and you fought down a strange wave of embarrassment. His fingers flexed on your ankle, those claws rasping sweetly, dangerously over the thin skin there, and he pulled your leg out a little bit, like he was inspecting it.

“How strange,” he murmured, his tone going soft with the subject change.

You didn’t know what to think, just stared at him as his gaze roved over the bare skin of your leg in your sea-soaked shorts.

“I thought you–uh, have met people before,” you said, face flushing. “It’s just–that’s just my leg.”

Those heterochromatic eyes cut back to yours, startlingly intent. “I have. But Katsuki would sooner kick me than let me look closely, and Izuku finds it uncomfortable. And yours are…..more interesting…”

Well of course Izuku would find it uncomfortable! The swell of your embarrassment about your leg being more interesting momentarily choked off all thought—but then it hit you what this merman had just said.

“Katsuki like Bakugou Katsuki?” you demanded. “And Izuku like Midoriya Izuku?”

The merman hummed, staring at your leg again like he was uninterested in this conversation. “Yes. You’ve met them. I can smell them on you.”

You jerked back, startled by this assertion. He could smell that you’d been near them? What the fuck. You were floored. And had this been what Bakugou might have been hiding when he’d all but chased you off his property?

“But you—how can you—? Just who the hell are you?” you demanded, as the merman petted a careful finger across the hollow behind your ankle bone.

You shivered as he looked back at you, a little amused indent at the corner of his mouth.

“I am called Todoroki Shouto.”

He stared at you expectantly, as though he expected some reply, and you quickly scraped together your manners, though you never imagined you’d need to use them on a merman.

“I’m Y/N,” you offered, carefully reaching out a hand to shake, wondering if Shouto was as familiar with human customs as he was with words.

He accepted your hand carefully in his own clap-tipped fingers, eyes glittering. “So you are not here hunting my kind,” he said, sounding more like he was coming to a conclusion than asking a question.

You nodded hurriedly, aware of how small and fragile your own hand felt in his much larger one. “I didn’t even know you existed until I accidentally netted you. And we’re trying to stabilize this environment, not kill things in it,” you told him. “With any luck we’ll be getting rid of Sunfish and you won’t have to worry about them anymore either.”

Shouto’s claws pricked gently over your wrist as he released you, and he leaned in again, his handsome face serious. “Then we will be friends,” he said, with all the sober certainty of a child declaring the kid they’d just met five seconds ago was their new bestie.

With Shouto’s hard form looming close and his taloned fingers still clutched around one of your legs, you rather thought there was little room for disagreement. But you were fascinated by him nevertheless, and thought you might not have wanted to deny him anyway. Here would be the opportunity to observe and interact with a merman, something no outsider to these waters might ever get to do again.

You nodded, and a small smile tugged at the corner of Shouto’s mouth, clearly pleased. His fingers tightened where they still gripped your ankle, and your stomach fluttered with nerves.

And that’s when you knew there was so much more to these waters than you’d initially understood—and things were about to get even weirder.