#this is ash with lighter eyelashes

[lanaevyssmoved]

ohhh shheeee ........

[narcoticv3nus]

Heaven Is a Place on Earth ❤︎ Arthur Morgan

summary: reader gives arthur some well deserved lovin'. tags/trigger warnings: 18+, f!reader, oral sex (m!receiving), rough manhandling, smoking, praise, dom!arthur, sub!reader, cursing, crying, use of pet names ("sweetheart", "good girl", "woman"), author attempts at accents wc: 984

You peer up at him from below, observing how his sharp features become bathed in a warm, golden glow following the rhythmic flickering of his worn metal lighter. With each deliberate flick, the flame ignites, casting an ethereal radiance across his face. As he tilts his chin upward, the flickering flame illuminates the tip of his cigarette, casting a soft glow on his chiseled features. The reflection of the dancing flame dances in his mesmerizing blue-green eyes.

Your eyelashes flutter, and a long sigh escapes your lungs and through your parted lips—wet, red, and kissed raw. Your fingers curl along Arthur’s thighs, anchoring yourself to the rough texture of his jeans. Your knees start to ache against the hardwood floor, grounding you as your eyes get lost in him. He breathes in an inhale, his eyes falling shut, his brows ever so gently drawing closer as his pink lips morph into the shape of his cigarette.

As he exhales, smoke dances from his parted lips in tendrils as his form slumps back into the cushions. His hand reaches up to pet your hair, smoothing the rebellious flyaways the same hand had caused.

“Y’okay down there, missy?” he asks cautiously, yet the side of his mouth quirks into a smug grin. His fingers delicately touch the side of your face, tucking your hair behind your ear before he traces the outline of your jaw to your chin, tilting it further upwards.

“Yes,” you whisper, your voice catching in your throat.

“Y’sure?” his southern drawl dropping in an octave as his eyes drink in the sight of you down on your knees before him, worshiping him.

You nod languidly, hands creeping towards his thick leather belt. He lifts his hips in response as he flicks away the falling ashes.

“Good girl…”

You let out a choked-back moan; his voice envelops you like the comforting warmth of the sun on a chilly day, leaving fresh goosebumps across your skin.

Your breath becomes shaky as you unbuckle his belt and pull down his fly. You reach your hand into his pants, cupping his forming erection in your hand and squeezing gently for good measure. Arthur sighs, his large hand continuing to stroke your body, making you feel small.

“Go’head,” he encourages, albeit a tad impatient. You pull him out, his cock thick in width with veins running up and down his length. The tip is red and already oozing with pre. You whine at the sight, your thighs rubbing together as your mouth begins to water.

You gaze back up at him as his hand eases behind your neck, coaxing you forward as you part your lips, eager to take him.

He's salty and bitter to the taste. Your tongue shyly laps at his tip, gathering his leaky essence to your taste buds before you wrap your mouth around him. You close your eyes and furrow your brows in concentration.

His hips shift, his thighs spreading wider as delicious groans spill from his sinful mouth, fingers clutching your hair as you take him deeper, trying desperately to reach the base. As soon as his tip grazes the back of your throat, you gag, hands pressing against his abdomen.

“Shhh, easy there,” he consoles, watching as you pull off of him; the strings of spit lewdly break away from his cock as it jumps from your expression, your face flushed and eyes watery, and your lips dark and puffy.

“Look’atchu…” His tender voice softly cooed, and the deep, husky timbre added warmth and depth to his praise.

“Y’alright?” he grins, turning his head to puff another cloud of smoke, the tangy scent of tobacco filling your nostrils.

“Mhm,” you answer, leaning your head forward as you take him in your hands, wrapping them around his cock, suckling on the head.

“Fuck,” he grunts deeply, leaning his head back, closing his eyes as he sets the cigarette aside before curling both hands into your hair.

“Jesus, woman,” he growls, urging your face closer and closer as he lifts his hips involuntarily.

You slide your tongue up and down his sensitive skin, twisting and curling, tracing over prominent veins as you slowly make your way down. You take in a stabilizing deep breath before pushing forward, holding back a gag as he slides into your throat.

You peek your eyes open as his mouth forms into an O-like shape, his eyes screwed shut, and his thick brows pull all the way forward. His tongue spews curses and praises, causing your skin to flush deeply.

He holds you in place as he thrusts into your mouth without grace or rhythm. “Fuck, I ain't gonna last, sweetheart,” he warns, his voice tapering off into a whine.

You close your eyes, moaning around him as he uses you for his pleasure; this seems to spur him on as his cock twitches inside your throat as it contracts around him. “M’close,” he grunts, almost sounding in pain.

You brace your hands against his thighs, fighting to keep your eyes open, watching as his bliss-struck face contorts in pleasure. His grip on your hair grows painful as he holds you in place as thick ropes shoot down your esophagus, causing you to sputter, drool dripping down your lips, to your chin, and onto his lap, causing dark, wet spots to form into the seams.

Tears spill down your cheeks as you sniffle before he's easing his softening erection from your warm mouth. He can't help but grin at the sight of you: flushed, messy, and dipping.

“Aww, ain't that a pretty sight.” his eyes twinkle with mischief, dragging his knuckles across your wet cheeks.

Even after his rough manhandling, you lean into his soft touch, your chest still heaving as you struggle to catch your breath. He pulls you into his lap, his hands under your armpits as he drags you upwards. His thigh slips between yours, feeling your arousal dampen his jeans. He chuckles, dragging a heavy hand over his bearded jaw while his other paws at your hip.

“I reckon I should return the favor.”

[mortala-if]

Mortala, the word, derives from the Latin adjective "Mortalis." meaning "subject to death." Comparable to the English word "Mortal." meaning the same. —

You live in a rotting world. And that's not a metaphor.

You've known that since you can remember. It's a fact that's been drilled into your mind on repeat.

A rotting world that you must not explore. Stay where you are, stay where you're familiar with, stay where you're comfortable— In The Cinders with your older brother.

The Cinders might not look pretty, but it's not horrible. Steer clear of most streets, keep your head down, don't poke around in other people's business, and you'll be fine. You've learned to navigate pretty well, not to toot your own horn.

Plus, you've got a job, and so does your brother. Not good ones, but ones that can, with a joint salary, keep a crumbling roof over your heads. —

Another thing that's been forced into your mind since you were spoon-fed is to never, ever disobey Belamour.

Belamour is a peaceful organization that was made to keep you safe. To do this, they have strict laws in place, and officers crawl over the cities to make sure you follow them. They are not a government, and they make it very known that they are not.

If you fail to obey, you'll get sent to your city's rehabilitation center! Isn't that nice? Or, on the worse side, you can end up in the Belamour Rehabilitation Center all the way in The Frost.

You and your brother made an agreement when you were very little that you would stick together, and neither of you would break any of the rules for fear of being sent to a rehabilitation center.

. . . An agreement your brother broke.

Now you have to find out how to get him the fuck out of there.

Mortala is a 16+ game due to explicit language, violence, death, anxiety, mention of past emotional abuse (not of MC), messy relationships, and more. A detailed trigger warning list will be listed before every chapter.

Customize the flawed main character, ranging from their gender to their style. (Semi-set personality. Set last name and age.)

Make risky choices that might result in you dying or being injured.

Build relationships between characters, romanceable and not.

Finally wipe The Cinders' ashes off you and explore more than just the burnt city you grew up in.

Go against everything you were taught growing up.

Lie to save your (and your brother's) skin.

These characters are not all romanceable, and you will not meet most of these characters until Chapter Two. Also, it's important to note that not all these characters have plot armor. This does not include sub-romances or all the characters you'll interact with.

FINNLEY ROSE. ✩ ---- Finnley has raised you since you were 5, making him 11 when you started to rely on him. You never really understood the gravity of that until you were in your late teenage years, and that's when you really started to appreciate him. You regret things you've said to him, how you've hurt him— and lately, with his absence, that's all you can think about. ---- His skin is a shade lighter than yours, the same textured hair as yours, and he has brown hooded eyes outlined with eyelashes that make you jealous. He stands at 6 feet, 2 inches. (187.96cm)

HIRO LA'EI. ✩ ---- Hiro has been your best friend since you were in diapers. You know everything about him, and he knows everything about you. You genuinely think he might be one of the sweetest people alive, despite what others might assume, and he jumps at the chance to help you with anything. . . ---- He has tan skin, wavy dark brown hair, and pretty doe-like brown eyes. He stands at 5 feet, 10 inches. (177.8cm) ! Option to have a crush on him— it goes nowhere, though.

MEDUSA CALIXTE. ♡ ---- Medusa. What can you say about Medusa? To put it plainly, she's your best friend's ex-girlfriend. She broke up with him and gave no reason. At the time of their relationship, you thought she was. . . interesting, for lack of a better word, and when she left your best friend, it took a huge toll on him, and from the looks of it, it barely affected her. ---- She has russet brown skin, coiled light brown hair, often shoulder-length and worn in dreads, and upturned hazel eyes. She stands at 5 feet, 2 inches. (157.48cm)

MONROE HALILI. ♡ ---- Your brother's best friend. They're concerned, and not just about their best friend. They're observant, annoyingly so, and can tell how bad his leave has affected you. Obviously, due to their status, they've taken it upon themselves to check on you- wanted or not. ---- They have deep tawny skin, curly black hair with white underneath, and dark brown monolid eyes framed with long, naturally curled eyelashes. He stands at 6 feet tall. (182.88cm) ! Option to have a childhood crush on them. (Three-year age gap.)

LIVIA ALARIE. ✩ ---- Monroe's daughter. From what you heard from your brother, she's incredibly timid- Oh, and she's smiled at him. (He wouldn't shut up about it for a week.) You've never seen her or talked to her yet. ---- She has tawny skin, wavy black hair that reaches below her ears, and dark brown almond eyes. She stands at 3 feet, 7 inches. (109.22cm)

VIVIAN DE LA CRUZ. ♡ ---- Your ex. You still think about them occasionally— you don't date someone for 5 years and forget about them even if you want to. You don't like how things ended, but you don't know if you want to see them again. ---- They have warm golden skin, light blue wavy hair, and downturned brown eyes. They stand at 6ft, 1 inch. (185.42cm) ! Details of the past relationship in their character profile.

Character profiles

Hiro La'ei Medusa Calixte Monroe Halili Vivian de la Cruz

Informational posts

The Cities Belamour Organization

Outside of Tumblr links

Playlists Pinterest Demo/Proof of concept

Extra

My other interactive fiction blog @destined-if My personal account @bunnifly

Important

My banner is by Thomas Dubois This interactive fiction is very loosely inspired by The Hunger Games

Thank you for reading ♡

[id0what1want]

What does Cereza look like and how tall is she compared to the other characters and pokemon (it feels weird calling them characters)

*me vibrating at the exact frequency required to shatter glass* yeah I can do that for you

(I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ASK (scroll to the end for some sketches of Cereza))

SO FOR STARTERS

Cereza is NOT tall, she's like maybe five feet somethin' short. She's Kieran's height during the Teal Mask and stays the same height forever. She does wear thick boots or sneakers all the time though in order to remedy this. Chunky soles are also good for traction and she climbs everything. She likes having stompers. Cereza seems taller than she is cuz she's all arms and legs, little gangly creature. She's also very sticklike, if you shook her she would make a rattling sound. All her muscle is very lean. Compact cryptid. I should clarify that I subscribe to the headcanon Kieran gets a growth spurt over the timeskip between the Teal Mask and the Indigo Disk. I think he shoots up to Amarys's height but still has issues with slouching so he might not seem like exactly the same height. Height is evidently in his genes if Carmine is any evidence. He's not done growing. (Cereza is pissed that she's not getting any taller and Kieran IS STILL GROWING) Cereza looks fucking hilarious next to all her huge freaking pokemon. Little creature next to big creature(s)

Cereza's hair is very specific in color and style in my brain. It's very wild and thick, as well as very long. It's the same consistency of a Hex Maniac's from the gen 6 games. Cereza's hair is ash blonde/white, exactly like the ash white option in game except the white streaks are even whiter (especially in the Indigo Disc, partially because fluorescents). It's very pale and muted, probably a shade lighter than the ash white in game depending on the lighting. Her hair is nigh constantly in low twintails that reach about her hips to maybe her thigh in length (it does grow over the timeskip, but it's so wild that it's kinda hard to notice especially since her bangs don't change). She will do little mini braids in her hair sometimes purely as a fidgeting habit to keep her hands busy or that piece of her hair isn't cooperating, and she wants it outta the way. Cereza's hair is the perfect length and consistency to play with and do things with. Lacey has to use every ounce of self-control in her body not to play with Cereza's hair. Deadeye has no such self-control and will bite at Cereza's hair all the time. Hair color refs!!

(DUDE THE IMAGES ARE SO BIG HOW DO I MAKE THEM SMALLER-) and also a hex maniac for hair texture reference

Moving on, Cereza's eyes are a darker red in Teal Mask, more discreet, but in the Indigo Disc they've gotten more saturated to the point of becoming a startling red. Her eyes are really big and round and sharp at the same time?? like they're round but her eyelines and eyelashes are pretty sharp. Her eyelashes are dark and pretty long. I would say her eyelashes are a dark DARK brown as opposed to black. Her eyes are very reminiscent of Briar's but a slightly different shape. Her pupils have a four-pointed star shape. This is not foreshadowing anything /lying

Cereza also has a beauty mark under each eye, perfectly identical and symmetric. (research says they're called tear moles, and they signify bad luck or hardship in life. It fits for plot reasons you'll see later lmao) She also has faint freckles all over, they're light enough that they aren't visible at a glance but you can see 'em if you squint. They would be more visible if she went out more during the day. Cryptid ass.

Posting this sketch is genuinely so scary like putting my own art on the internet? BLEGH. Giving people a visual of my own character? BLEGH.

Alright that's Cereza. Have some bonus sketches of the boys.

might transfer them to digital. idk. Anyway, thanks for staying this long!!!!!!

✨Do whatever you want forever✨

~ Cytoplasm

[roegadynroost]

How do you feel about them in the actual benchmark? It made my Femroe look so much better to see her animated and in the game lighting. The CC lighting was awful in vanilla and not representative of the real game to begin with but I think it’s worse now cuz they straight up look like different characters in the benchmark.

Personally didn't like how she looked in the trailer either. The colors are slightly better but not enough, everyone is ashy and lighter looking (and before anyone else asks yes, I turned the gamma adjustment off/down too.) the lighting does not fix the features that are wrong either like the upward pointing eyelashes, the flat gloss-less mouth, the darker pupils, different nose shape, or barely-there nose ash on the Hellsguard girlies.

[star1117-archives]

𝐌𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤, 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝

<< ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ꜱᴏɴɢ ⋮≡ ᴘʟᴀʏʟɪꜱᴛ >> ɴᴇxᴛ ꜱᴏɴɢ

♡ Pairing : yunho x gn!reader

♡ Genre : angst + hurt/comfort

♡ W.C : 2761

♡ Warnings : major mentions of drugs ( usage + dealing ), minor character death, vague mentions of gang violence,

♡ A/N : sorry

♡ Network : @cacaokpop-fics

© 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝟏𝟏𝟏𝟕-𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬. Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost or use my work in any way, shape or form.

“Listen to me Mingi, you- you need to stop this! I can’t keep patching you up everytime they beat the shit outta you for being late.”

You hugged Mingi by the waist, clinging to him as your tears dropped onto his shirt.

“I can’t keep seeing you slowly losing yourself to that shit. I just.. I can’t.”

Pushing you off, Mingi didn’t bat an eyelash when you fell to the floor. The only thing in his head right now was that unwavering need. That urge that he never seemed to shake no matter how hard he tried.

“Then don’t.”

And with a slam of the door, he was gone again. Gone to fill a void that will never be satisfied.

Only this time, he didn’t come back.

──── ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ────

Three Months Later

Yunho didn’t know who he was. He wasn’t a bad guy, but for damn sure he wasn’t a good one either. He had seen, committed and been the victim of many bad things, but he never intended to end up this way. He had worked hard, and after falling back in a few times he finally managed to work his way out. He’d left that life behind, but the ghosts of his past still haunted him in many different ways. He trusted no one, so he interacted with no one. Instead, he watched.

He could sit for hours letting the world pass him by, and he did just that during his daily visit to the park. With a quiet smile he’d bask in the sunlight, content with just watching people live their lives. Couples, families, loners. He watched as new love was formed, as happy families came to a tragic end. One time he even saw two teenagers about to go all the way on a fucking park bench. Filthy little shits. Yunho kept to his one rule however, not interfering and letting what’s meant to happen, happen. It was a lonely existence, but a calm and quiet one. At the very least, until you sat down next to him.

Chest heaving, you all but threw yourself onto the bench, sweat covering your entire body as music blasted in your ears. Yunho could hear the thumping base from your workout playlist, smiling softly to himself when you swore quietly and leaned back on the bench. Finally noticing him, you nodded at the staring man before slipping your headphones off.

“We got a problem?”

Yunho raised an eyebrow at your tone before scoffing and turning away, shaking his head simultaneously. You sighed and sat forward, wiping some sweat from your forehead.

“Sorry, that was kinda bitchy.”

Giving you a small smile, Yunho chuckled quietly.

“Kinda, but it’s understandable. You look stressed.”

Taking a water bottle out of your backpack, you gulped a good amount down before replying.

“That’s cause I am, but I haven’t stooped low enough to offload onto a stranger. If I ever do that, I’ve truly hit rock bottom.”

Yunho rolled his eyes playfully, taking a cigarette box out of his pocket.

“It’s not as bad as you make it sound. Got a lighter?”

You shook your head, putting the water bottle back in your bag.

“Does it look like I smoke?”

Yunho dug in his pockets for a second and let out a little ‘ah’ when he found his own. Lighting a cigarette, he took in a deep breath before letting the cloud billow out infront of him.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know? You can smoke and still look fit, smartass.”

You paused for a second, thinking a little before sighing in defeat.

“Touché.”

He gestured to your sweatshirt before tapping his ashes away onto the concrete below.

“So, you go to that university up the road right?”

Looking down at yourself, you looked as if you had only just noticed the large letters covering the front of your sweatshirt.

“Appears so. You?”

He shook his head and sat back, blowing the cigarette smoke high into the air.

“Dropped out in high school, I don’t fuck with rules.”

Letting out a small laugh, you paused your music to fully focus on the stranger next to you.

“Ooh sorry Mr. Gangster, don’t shoot me.”

Yunho tensed at this, expression hardening and any trace of lightheartedness soon leaving his face.

“Don’t call me that.”

Your eyes widened when he stood up, quickly following suit and grabbing his arm before he could walk off.

“Hey I’m sorry if I offended you-“

Shrugging your hand away, Yunho spat at your feet as you staggered back to avoid it.

“Too late. Don’t touch me again or I’ll break your fucking hands.”

Lifting your hands up as a sign of peace, you let Yunho go with a sigh.

“Either way, I’m sorry.”

Looking you up and down, Yunho let out a non-committal ‘mmh’ before walking away. He heard you shout at him however, and couldn’t resist turning to face you.

“Can I at least know your name?!”

Yunho scoffed before shouting back with a childish smirk.

“First name Suckma, Last name Balls!”

He heard you scoff and he let out a small laugh as you shouted again.

“Real mature!”

And that was the last Yunho saw of you, and he couldn’t say he was displeased. After the two of you parted ways, Yunho’s life went back to normal again. No interactions, just watching. He settled back into his usual routine and you became a distant memory. A fond one, not so much.

──── ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ────

“Awh shit, I’m so sorry!”

Yunho hissed as hot coffee spilled all over him, his arms steadying you to keep you from connecting with the floor. Soon finding your footing, you grabbed as many tissues as you could, quickly dabbing at his shirt. Upon seeing your attempts were futile, Yunho grabbed your wrist.

“Look just leave-…”

His words soon cut off however when you looked up at him, recognition spreading over his features before he let go of you.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Stalking off to a table, Yunho shrugged his jacket off with an exasperated sigh when he heard you trailing behind him, a waterfall of apologies flowing from your lips. He rolled his eyes before pulling his t-shirt off, leaving him in his vest as you stood there shocked. By this point everyone was watching the two of you, and it made a cold chill run up his spine. For once, he was the one being watched. And if he didn’t wanna attract the attention of the wrong kinda people, he had to avoid the flashing cameras now trailing the two of you. Kissing his teeth, Yunho threw his jacket to you and hissed under his breath.

“Watch my jacket, and don’t steal my shit.”

Usually you’d have some sort of snide remark in response to such a rude comment, but your guilt overrided any hate you had for this man. So you just nodded and let him walk off, raising your eyebrows when you noticed the tip of a scar peeking out from the neck of his vest. How did he manage to cut his back? You bit your lip at this, turning away and glancing down at the jacket in your hands. You smiled softly and ran your hands over the leather sleeves.

“Lakers fan, my kinda guy.”

You soon snapped out of it however when an employee came over and gave you another drink. You thanked them and turned just in time to see Yunho stomping back. The coffee stain had luckily disappeared, but there was still a damp mark on the t-shirt he had pulled back on. You held out the jacket and he snatched it from you, jaw set as he regarded you for a second before scoffing and turning away. Once again, you grabbed his arm.

“Last time you didn’t let me make it up to you, so how about now?”

Yunho stared at you for a while until he heard the click of a camera. Grabbing your hand, he hastily pulled you out of the shop and around the corner into an alley. The two of you were now alone.

“Let’s talk here, I’m done being watched.”

You raised your eyebrows but still nodded, gesturing behind you as you spoke.

“I’m happy to pay for another shirt. We’re near a mall anyways, so it isn’t like we’d have to go far.”

Yunho shook his head, not smiling but also not frowning like usual.

“It’s fine, keep your money. I can buy my own shirt.”

You rolled your eyes at this, starting to become agitated with this man’s apparent victim complex.

“God, I didn’t mean it like that! I’m a university student for fucks sake, I eat soup five times a week!”

This seemed to quell Yunho a bit, and you finally felt it was safe enough to have a conversation without the fear of him walking off. So, you let go of him.

“I mean, you could always have one of my brother’s shirts if you’re so concerned about money. He doesn’t use them anymore.”

Scoffing, Yunho smirked down at you with a pretentious chuckle.

“If he doesn’t use them, why would I?”

Your face fell for a second, and Yunho’s smirk faded slightly.

“Cause he’s dead, smartass. He’s not exactly keeping up with the fashion trends right now.”

Yunho’s eyes widened and for once in a very long time, he felt nervous. He also felt guilty for mocking you, but he’d never admit that to himself.

“Well… fuck, sorry about that.”

“You didn’t do nothing, why you apologising? Mingi… he should’ve listened.”

Yunho froze at that name, a name he hadn’t heard for years. He rested hands on both your shoulders with urgency.

“Did you just say Mingi?”

Raising an eyebrow, you nodded before continuing.

“Uh yeah? Wh- Anyways, you want the damn jumper or not?”

Yunho didn’t seem to be listening however, his face had darkened and his grip had tightened on your shoulder.

“Mingi as in Song Mingi? As in ‘Songbird’?”

It was your turn to freeze now, trying to push Yunho away slightly when Mingi’s name fell from his lips.

“How do you… know my brother? Are you one of them?”

You watched Yunho grit his teeth before shaking his head and loosening his grip.

“Not anymore, I got out of that life about two years ago.”

You looked at him confused for a second, before fully shaking him off.

“So you’re telling me.. you knew my brother, and was evidently close to him.. you got out of that life, knew what he was struggling with yet you just… left him?”

When Yunho opened his mouth you shoved him back, words coming out louder now as you became infuriated.

“How dare you! You’re- you’re Yunho aren’t you?! You’re that fucking ‘Maverick’ that he idolised, aren’t you?!”

Yunho seemed to have collapsed in on himself, any walls he had built up to protect him from thinking about his feelings crashing to the ground. This formidable giant seemed so small as you kept on hitting him, your punches dealing more psychological damage than physical.

“You introduced him to that shit! You got him addicted! You got him into dealing to pay for his addiction! You! This is all your fucking fault!”

Yunho’s voice was broken as he tried to talk, almost inaudible as he tried to explain.

“I was just a dumb teenager who got caught up in bad shit! I never meant to bring him with me! I’m not excusing anything but- I tried, okay?! I-“

Yunho felt a lump form in his throat, body shaking as you stood there glowering at him. His chest heaved and when he put a hand to his heart, it was beating erratically. You let him have a moment to calm down, watching him slide onto the dirty floor of the alley.

“I-I tried so damn hard…”

Your eyes were devoid of sympathy as you watched him, kissing your teeth and adverting your gaze for a second before refocusing.

“Tell me everything. I wanna know how this started. Then I can tell you how it ended.”

Yunho stared at you for a second before nodding. His words came out broken, short.

“I used it occasionally, and he wanted to try. I warned him, but he wouldn’t listen. You know how Mingi is, when he get something stuck in his goddamn brain he won’t have any other way. So I let him, and he started using. Became dependent on it.”

You watched quietly as Yunho gulped and adverted eye contact, unable to stand the pure rage in your eyes.

“That kinda life was all I knew, you’ve gotta understand me. I saw no other… viable way for him to get the money as quickly as he needed it. How the fuck was I supposed to know he’d start stealing from them? I just wanted to see my best friend walk normally for once, without a limp, without a broken arm. I already felt so fucking guilty for getting him hooked, but there was nothing else I could do for him.”

Crouching down you trapped Yunho, forcing him to look at you.

“Then what? You gave up on him and left? What a great fucking best friend, we should all have someone like you.”

His eyes fell to the floor and your gripped his chin, forcing Yunho’s head up.

“I-… I promise you I tried! I tried everything I could to get him to leave with me, told him about the centres and help programs. He told me all he needed was that fucking white powder. Told me he.. didn’t need me.”

You face faltered for a second, features softening slightly when you saw a tear roll down Yunho’s cheek. This look he had on his face, it was almost identical to the one you had when you begged Mingi to stop using. When you’d sobbed and pleaded and told him how much you loved him and how he was so much better than this.

You also remembered the cold look in his eyes, the shallowness of his features and the stubble growing from him neglecting his daily routine. He was the ghost of your brother, and he still terrified you to this day. So you backed off, now sitting next to Yunho with a long sigh. He might be one of the only people who understood how you felt in that moment.

That feeling of loss.

“I tried one more time before I left. You know he used to talk about you all the time? When we first met, he was so proud of that nickname you had given him. Wrote it on all his stuff, it was pretty cute actually. So when I tried one last time, I asked him how he could treat his Sunbird like this, keeping them worried all the time. He tried to kill me just for saying your name.”

Tears stung the corners of your eyes when ‘Sunbird’ fell from Yunho’s lips, biting your cheek to hold back sobs.

“It’s been years since I’ve heard that name.”

Yunho smiled lightly, turning to you with a playful roll of his eyes.

“You brought light into his life at its darkest times and he wanted you to match with him. Classic Mingi.”

Yunho chuckled and glanced at your shoulder for a second before he raised his hand slowly, almost as if debating if he should or not. You tensed when a hand met your back, soon relaxing however when Yunho rubbed small circles onto it.

“You ready to offload to a stranger now? Or haven’t you sunk low enough yet?”

You scoffed with tears flowing down your cheeks, smiling at the sheer absurdity of this situation.

“I’m sitting on the floor of a shitty ass alleyway crying with a complete stranger. If that ain’t the lowest I can go, I never wanna get to true rock bottom.”

Yunho chuckled and kept rubbing your back. He watched you sniffle and drop your head with a bite of his lip, a new feeling spreading through his body. He couldn’t place it, all he knew is he didn’t wanna see you hurting. He wanted to put a smile on your face, even if it was for a second. So with a squeeze of your shoulder, Yunho gave you the understanding comfort you’d been craving for as long as you could remember.

“I’m all ears Sunbird, what do you need to say?”

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[nightly-ruse]

I need my golden crown of sorrow

My bloody sword to swing

I need my empty halls to echo with grand self mythology

I am no mother, I am no bride, I am King

King By Florence + the Machines

(Squirrelflight is a red fluffy cat with darker red striping away from her eye, on her ears, nose, freckles, and hair tuft. Lighter red is on her chin, inner ear tuft, under her eye, and in a streak in her hair. She is in the middle and looking down slightly, a bramble tendril in her teeth that’s wrapped around her neck with another trying to squeeze her even more. In her fur is a Eurasian Jay feather, torn Holly leaf with three berries, and a golden thorn in her right ear. Three eyes with sharp eyelashes are staring at her, the top on pale blue, left one orange, and the right one green. Stars are around in with three in the bottom right being blue, orange, and green, two to the bottom left with one red and one yellow, and two opposite her head with one being a deep red and a green one. Light gray ash flecks her pelt. The background is dark with various colors like watercolor. She has a growl to her as she tears the bramble away to break free. End ID)

Unshaded version:

[cookiqueen13]

After watching Avatar 2, and hearing about Avatar 3’s “Ash/Desert Na’vi” I got inspired…

Headcanons below cut ⬇️

I based some of their features on desert animals like foxes, rabbits, and camels.

Larger ears help them keep cool in the sun while also granting sharp hearing.

Long eyelashes help keep the sun and sand out of their eyes.

Each Navi tribe have special colorations and stripes . I imagine that the desert/ash Navi are more gray in coloration.(whether it be lighter or darker skin) I think rounder stripes would look nice since most desert animals have spots.

This is mostly cosmetic, but I thought the ear tufts looked cool!

I have more headcanons and stuff, like some of the desert animals, and I’ll put it in more posts

Tell me what you think!🤔

[meysjournel]

TO PROTECT YOU

I wouldn't trade you for any worldly hassle. I did not prioritize the weight of houses and crowds over you. I have never felt the pain be lighter than the pain of poverty. The distance I was lost in was the anxiety of everyone who was defeated, every time your face became cloudy. Wherever I go, I always walk as you. I carried your joy inside me like a peace, a eid morning. I trusted your voice, that permanent summer afternoon that suits your eyes best. It was the spoiledness of children passing under the rainbow, the shiver in my body every time I parted your bangs. You were the inspiration in my mouth while reading poems to people. I looked at face with the sorrow of all orphans, whenever I thought about the future. I gave your breath to everyone who shouted an injustice. I made you the window of all prisons. Then I grabbed and showed the loneliness of the slums, hoping for an apology and forgiveness. I fought all my fights on the path that your eyelashes opened to my life. I believed in your words, your body more than that. As I kept coming back to you, I realized that freedom is love. I didn't succumb to habits, I just didn't want to turn you into a habit.

Children were growing up defeated by the world. Men were growing old without knowing anything other than their fathers. The bazaars had already taken delivery of the houses. The girls could not sing their song to anyone. It was not the sun blowing through the streets, but the feeling of withdrawal. There was no light in the milk of mothers. The deep voice of rude men covered the country. Beauty had long since disappeared from people's dreams of the future. No one had a common folk song and no one could sing their folk song alone. Everyone was waiting for someone to come before going anywhere. The people was silent at chorus and people began to believe only those who spoke loudly. The subtlety ended in a return to loneliness. Of course, in the geography of violence, the sky was a luxury and was only remembered when it rained. Neither love, nor freedom, nor peace could be explained to those who are the longest distance they traveled is just from home to work. I stood against all this to protect you. I loved the world by passing it through you. It wouldn't suit my love for you to withdraw You've been gone for days. I even miss your anger. I don't know how far you will come from. I started hoping for help from separation. I will stop where your eyebrows point. I will stand like darkening silver. I will apologize by holding on to the pain of a country. I will look for a bright shelter and say in the curves of your voice, 'Your coming is a kindness.' I will have no answer other than my heart. I will hit you from question to question again. All the rain in the world will fall between two words. I will wonder whether to place my hands on the past or the future. I will ask for a sip of breath for the embers under the ashes. I will think long and hard about the saying 'Love is for two'. I will get up and look at life through the window. Wherever I kiss your forehead, I will say you are my country, where I kiss your mouth your my woman. I will go out and fill the streets with your smile. The child that I carried beyond my life... What if you hadn't been born in this country, what if I knew the love like everyone else.

[edareal]

Her, a Flicker and a Snap.

From eyelash to ankle, She's the queen of scars.

Grey hair unraveled, worn, frayed at the ends.

The cycle follows through, no matter the twisting, no matter the bends.

Dust or Ash? Flesh to bone, a flash fire or rot?

Canker sore smile, bittersweet wiring, caused by tendrils from the unknown.

Finger pointed guns but convictions are fickle, a flicker from a lighter in a snowstorm most of the time.

She's cursing at the heavens, but the sky is a mirror, and she has always known.

[cloveroctobers]

ess! you’re the only black writer i know that writes for fez at this moment. okay i’m not too sure if requests are opened or close but i just saw that they really had made this girl faye stay up with fez yea.. nah. anyway you could write something about how the reader would feel about this? especially if fez being her man she’s over there a lot helping with business shit and just being overall cuddly w/ fez and faye has brought up her distaste for her continual presence to fez before....

i don’t mind — fez x black! reader

A/N: it’s finally here! Also was jamming to my ex husband so that’s the song choice for this one. It all makes sense now zayn and fez/angus? have similar mannerisms to me. This could have been out sooner but tumblr was acting up yesterday so I lost motivation to write since it wouldn’t save what I tried to write!!!! After episode three and seeing the promo for the next?! I just know we’re about to see that shift into the darkness and I’m not sure I’m ready! On a lighter note, Who can really stay mad at fez is the question for this one? Anywho hope you like this *tinashe’s voice* DRA-MAMA

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

In this household it was always great to give each other some space. You, Fez, and Ash were all mixed with different personalities so sometimes you all tended to clash but majority of the time you meshed well. You didn’t live with fez and ash but you might as well with how much time you spent over there. Wise words from your family who still had something to say about your whereabouts since you lived under their roof part time. You hardly had a issue getting comfortable anywhere and anything that was fez’s was basically yours.

Currently you leaned against the counter as you faced the mirror, messing around with a eyelash curler—since inward eyelashes tended to be a real bitch. You scoffed realizing fez was blessed with some nice ass eyelashes and didn’t have this issue. It was a long day and you preferred being at Fez’s than heading home for the weekend so here you were doing your own routine. Since Ash didn’t want to watch some bad reality tv series with you, he left you to do your thing while he tended to the store downstairs, and fez left to grab y’all some grub, which left you with one option:

Catering to yourself.

Skincare? Check.

Re-twisting your locs? Check.

A nicely scented epsom salt bath — after you managed to drag yourself from the couch to the bathroom, you constantly thanked your chiropractor for the suggestion every time you gained extra relief from the bath. Checky check.

You weren’t sure when you dozed off but your phone rattling against the bamboo tray you had situated in front of you was enough to snap you out of dreamland. It was simply a text from your older sis about how your grandfather (who basically got kicked out of his own crib by your Caribbean step-grandmother) was getting on her nerves as he constantly hogged the living room to blast Rick James and Teena Marie. Laughing you encouraged her to hook up with her girls tonight for some freedom, however her on and off again boyfriend was in Houston for the weekend with his side piece—figures (and your dad was down with a bad cold, so she couldn’t just leave the kids with your grandfather. I mean she could if she really wanted to but she didn’t want to traumatize her kids with that man—let’s just say that).

Moisturized body to match your refreshed Dewey skin? Better believe that’s a check!

Wiggling your thighs in the mirror on tiktok to the beat at how good you look refreshed for the night? Check check check.

Your phone buzzed again as you stopped dancing in front of the full-length mirror behind the door. Sighing you reached backwards and suddenly decided against that once you were hit with some soreness from most likely tending to your hair and walked over to the counter instead, “Samira, if you don’t take my niece and nephew somewhere else for the night—

Instead it wasn’t from your aggravated sister. It was a text from ash.

A$H🌚

🚩

Was all it said.

Tilting your head to the side you sent back multiple question marks before placing your phone in your waistband. Just as you did, you heard the front door shut and the sound of thudding coming up the steps which also made you check the time.

“It really took you that long to get Mickey D’s?” You questioned, now walking down the hallway to see a blonde sitting on the steps with a bleeding nose.

Immediately your eyes flicked to fez who stood in the space between the living room and kitchen as if he was a Robert Patterson meme.

“Uh yeah, ran into a situation on my way. Custer needed my help so I scooped up his girl, Faye. She’s gonna be staying here until things coo down.” Fez started as you quirked up a brow at the girl who was basically trying to stop the bleeding with one of her hands and sent a wave your way, “y/n, that’s Faye. Faye this is my girl, y/n.”

Sighing you walked by and snatched some paper towel off the counter, folding it so that it was layered before you popped a squat by her and held it out to her, “here girl. I don’t know what went on tonight but keep your head down, keeping your head back makes it worse.”

Faye took the towel as you walked away from her to take a seat next to fez, crossing one leg over the other, while placing a arm over the top of the chair as you looked at fez who silently began unraveling his sandwich.

“I didn’t do anything.” Faye weakly said but you just shrugged.

It wasn’t your business.

Fez gave out some house rules to Faye who was real quiet this time around but she answered so that fez knew she understood.

“…Want some of my sandwich?” Fez asked her, before he bit into it.

You didn’t even touch your food yet.

“Okay.” You could tell that cheered Faye up some, as fez scrapped the chair back to get a knife.

He cut the sandwich in half before plopping it on a paper plate. He then went over to Faye and handed it to her, who still had her back to you two. Once fez came back to your side, you were still eyeing him before he turned to meet your eyes.

“Why da hell is one your caterpillar brows orange?” He asked before his hungry behind could take a large bite out part of his meal.

Ignoring Fez you sipped at your mocha frappe real slow before you popped your tongue, “hey Faye, I just remembered aren’t you the one who said rue eats my Ginger’s ass for drugs?”

A frown sat in between fez’s brows as he side-eyed faye, “yo, you said that?”

Faye’s eyes went wide before she answered, “I—I don’t remember…Who’s rue again?”

Laughing to yourself you squeezed fez’s shoulder, “I didn’t know that was something you’re into, honey.”

“Don’t start, y/n.” Fez kissed his teeth, giving you a glance since he knew although there was a smile on your face you were a little irritated that he didn’t bother to communicate that y’all were going to have company for whoever knows how long.

Pursing your lips you raised your hands before sitting right to dig into your own food for the night. Faye could sense there was a little tension between you two but it’s not like she cared much with a towel shoved up her nose and bit into her half of a sandwich.

It was Sunday when faye decided to get too comfortable. Ash walked around here as if she didn’t exist in the first place, he had a thing about people invading his space and he definitely felt a way about it, fez didn’t talk much generally but he was one of the ones who made sure she was good with the essentials and as for you? After your debate about her presence in fez’s room the other night, you were cordial with her—she didn’t do much but lay around on the couch, cry about missing Custer, and watch powerpuff girls and riverdale while high.

You were upstairs while Fez, ash, and Faye were downstairs at the shop for majority of the day. It wasn’t until you heard Faye blabbing something to fez as they were making their way into the house.

“He’s not gonna be a problem. We don’t scare easily over here.” Fez answered as he pulled on your arm for you to move so he could sit down.

You leaned you arm across his lap as you turned your attention back to the series on the screen, “something happened down at the store?”

Fez huffed, “Nate’s bitch ass dad slid through not too long after Lexi Howard showed up. Walkin’ around like we were supposed to be scared or sum, Lexi was a little shook tho.”

“Lexi was here?” You asked, “right before mr. Jacobs? He had to be following her, he gives me major predator vibes.”

Fez nodded, “yeah even offered for ash to take her back home but she said she was fine. Waited around for a bit too.”

“Y/n,” Faye interrupted, “did you eat?”

“Yeah? A bacon grilled cheese. Why?”

“Where’s the leftovers for the rest of us?”

You lifted your head to give fez a look who he gently shook his head back and forth as you answered before turning your attention back to the television, “there isn’t any. That was my lunch, y’all were downstairs all day. If you want to cook dinner be my guest.”

“Why would I do that? You’re the one laying around like a housewife, I thought that was your job.” You heard Faye mumble.

It only took seconds for you to shoot up from your spot as you looked over the couch at Faye, who was shoving things aside in the fridge then you replied, “what did you say? Speak up.”

“Nothing.” She innocently said.

Sitting on your knees on the couch, you faced Faye who closed the fridge to place something on the counter.

“I’ve been working on my mental health journey and it seems like you’re trying to disrupt that.” You waved your fingers around in a circle, “Im sensing that you have something you need to get off your chest, so let’s talk about it instead of throwing sneak disses when you think nobody wont hear that shit.”

Faye lifted her shoulders and widened her eyes as she started preparing a sandwich, “that’s good for you. I didn’t mean anything I’m just saying it looks like you’re playing house here. Laying all up on fez while he’s literally working hard and you’re just…Don’t you have a home elsewhere? What are you nineteen? Twenty?”

“Listen,” you breathed just as fez went to rest a freckled arm across the front of your waist to hold you in place, “you’re trying to disrespect me and I don’t like it, so let me check you right quick. Just because your parents tossed you out of the trailer park to fend for yourself doesn’t mean my family did me the same way. I didn’t have a problem with you, I had a problem with your situation. Don’t worry about what the fuck I have going on when you should be worried about that hotel manager you probably murdered.” Your voice was sweet but the tone was definitely menacing.

“Ma, chill.” Fez drawled on while you side-eyed him.

You gave him the hand and rolled your four fingers to press into your thumb, basically to tell him to zip it, since you weren’t done.

Faye scrunched up her swollen lips, “I literally just said I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or whatever. You don’t have to be a bitch and bring up the hotel or my family, okay? I just really miss Custer that’s all.”

“I don’t care, that doesn’t give you a reason to talk shit to me when I didn’t do a damn thing to you. You’re temporary here and if ash and I had things our way you’d be sleeping out back next to the garbage bin.” You jabbed a thumb behind you, “but out of the kindest of my ol’ husband’s heart, you’re here.” You laughed.

Suddenly you heard sniffing as faye began chewing on her bottom lip. She tossed the butter knife on the counter and fled from the scene with a, “fuck you! I’m outta here!”

“Bye!” You waved as she ran down the steps, tripping on the last one on her way out, most likely to go down stairs to vent to the wrong person, Ash.

A smirk was on your lips as you felt eyes burning into you. Of course Fez was looking at you in disappointment.

“Whatchu do all that for?”

“She was talking reckless to me. So she can dish it but can’t take it? Not my fault. Thanks for backing me up by the way.” You plucked his arm from around your waist.

Fez watched as you untangled yourself to straighten out your shorts before you also left the room. Fez groaned as he threw his hands up before pushing off the couch to go after you.

There you were in his room, picking up your things around his room to toss into your open duffel bag you had on his bed.

“So…you’re out too?”

“Hell yeah if you’re gonna pick sides, what do I need to stay for?”

Fez was smug, “‘cause I’m your hardworking husband that’s why.”

You didn’t crack a smile at the joke but a nice middle finger went his way.

“C’mon y/n cut the shit. I’m not picking nobody’s side since it’s really not that deep to begin with. This petty shit is real stupid.” He leaned against the doorway.

You placed your hands on your chest, “so now I’m stupid?”

“Where and when did I say that?” Fez blinked, “stop trying to twist shit and shut up for a minute and let me talk.”

“Shut up?” You repeated, “who do you think you’re talking to? I’m not the faye, the one, or the two.”

Fez rolled his eyes, “didn’t we say we’re going to try to talk things out instead of blowin’ up on each other and disappearing? So put your shit down and talk then.”

“You’re lucky I don’t knock all this shit over and Faye on her ass.” You tossed your last balled up shirt into the bag before sitting on his galaxy comforter, “I already told you fez, I don’t mind any of the shit you’re doing because I like being by your side. Shit, I help take the load off for y’all even when you don’t ask from time to time. All I said was to let me know whatever is about to go down and then you bring her here two days ago and she feels like she can say whatever the fuck she wants to me? Like I’m some useless hoe? She’s confused me with herself.”

Fez sat beside you, “you don’t got to explain that shit to her. I know what you do and why you’re here. I’m deadass just doing this for Custer, you know that. And you know she don’t think too hard before she says shit either. Don’t let that girl get in your head.”

“She’s not! which is why I sent her crying. She thought just because I’m chilling during the weekend that I’m lazy and I don’t have no backbone? We’re out here catching a bag everyday! excuse me if I wanted to spend a couple of days being a bum with my other family. I’m no pussy and she’s lucky I didn’t brush her teeth with one of those bricks outside.” You hissed.

Fez snorted as he latched onto your head bringing it into his chest, “my little ruff rida.”

You rolled your eyes sending a jab into his chest for him to let go of you, “nope you don’t get to hold me, cuddle me, or anything.”

“Whatchu mean? Were we not just havin’ a moment?” He rubbed at his chest.

Getting up you snatched your bag, “I’m still going home.”

“So what? you’re still mad at me?”

“I don’t like her energy and if I stay here any longer with her here? I’m going to catch a case. And like I said I’m working on my mental health so it’s best for me to go. I trust you to act right while I’m gone, Fergus.” You humphed as you reached over for your bag.

Fez hopped off the bed just to jump on you, making you yelp. “You not goin’ nowhere.”

This man was literally sitting on you and tossed your duffle onto the ground with a flick of his wrist, “Fergus, if you don’t get your Clifford the big red dog ass—

You halted as Fez bounced and you wheezed out a laugh, turning your buried face to the side. Fez made himself comfortable sitting on you for who knows how long messing with his phone! and you were sure you were starting to lose feeling in your legs until…he farted on you.

“No you didn’t.”

“Excuse me, My fault.”

Now elbows were flying and fez was barely holding his laughter in as he rolled off you. It was your turn to assault him as you straddled him, whacking him with pillows and attempting to turn this into WWE match. It ended with the both of y’all panting on the floor with bruises to probably match in the morning, small smiles on the both of your faces as you were on your sides. You behind fez, arms weakly wrapped around his throat and head, and legs locked around his waist.

“Just stay, you know if you leave you’re gonna just be FaceTiming me anyways when ashtray don’t give you the update on what’s going on. Stop being difficult.” Fez breathed, resting his head back against your chest.

“I need more clothes.”

“I’ll wash em. Or go buy yourself some, I always got what you need.” Fez suggested, digging into his pocket for his stack of cash.

You snorted, “the sugardaddy and the housewife strikes again.”

“Oh you can joke about it but I can’t—whatever, yo.”

You raked your nails against fez’s scalp before lowering your legs and then your arms. Shuffling your body, you now lay on your back as fez sat up now watching you, “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll stay…after I pop in on my grandad since you know how he feels about a ‘white gangster dating his favorite grandchild—‘

“I already told your pop-pop that he look just like Denzel Washington and I don’t want no parts on being on his bad side.” Fez commented making you laugh.

“You’re more worried about a dude in his late sixties than my dad who’s in his early forties?” You peered at Fez underneath your frustrating lashes.

Fez blinked, “hell yeah. The worse your dad could do is play the piano until my ears bleed like he’s Jamie foxx or some shit. Plus he’s always down with his weak ass immune system. So I’ll bet on your pop-pop taking me out more than anything.”

“Anyways,” you sucked air in between your teeth, “I’ll stay but you’re not getting any affection from me until the blow up doll gets kicked to the curb.”

“What? You buggin’.”

Fez wasn’t the most affectionate during the daily. Touch wasn’t the highest on his love language but he did enjoy it late at night with you beside him in bed, he couldn’t lie about that. Quality time was top of the list for him but now you’re here handing out ultimatums over him doing a favor for someone he occasionally did business with? That was foul.

“I think I’ll go see my pop-pop now.” You pushed up from your laying position, “let’s see how much you miss me, I might not come back.”

“Which is why I got your duffle bag with one of your favorite fits in there and you ain’t getting it back.” Fez proposed a stare off, daring you to touch the bag.

“I’ll fight you again, if I have to.”

Fez raised his brows, “I’m forreal dating a grandma, you were just crying about your back spasm a few minutes ago. You sure you wanna do that again, rida?”

Huffing you put your back to Fez and bent over, confusion was written on fez’s face—although he didn’t mind the view—that was quickly erased the minute you let it rip.

“The fuck?”

You laughed, “does it smell like hydrangeas?” You twerked your ass as fez took his large palm back and gave you a nice smack to your backside.

You shot up at the stinging sensation like a looney tunes character and whipped around to face him as he smirked at you getting ready to lit up his blunt. You rubbed at your now sore ass frowning at him, “I was just giving you a taste of your own medicine from earlier but now you want to be violent?”

“Come sit, I’ll make it better.” Amusement washed over his pretty eyes.

Dirty flashbacks tempted to enter your brain but you clenched your eyes shut before wagging a finger down at the smirking redhead. “Nope. I know your tricks Fergus and I won’t be tainted! My rules still apply.”

“Fine.” He laid back on the carpet as you moved around the room to find your shoes, a jacket, and your keys, “…I’ll miss you and your surprisingly non-smelly farts.”

“Yeah yeah, love you too. See you later.” You nudged his ankle with your foot on your way out.

As you went by the door he added, “and I’ll talk to faye.”

You knew he would, which brought another grin to your lips as you made your exit. Fez listened to you go since he couldn’t exactly see you from his position and exhaled with a roll of his head back and forth as he played what happened back in his head.

Letting out a low chuckle to himself, he realized you were the real deal no matter how dramatic you tended to be at times…don’t get that twisted! he didn’t like to invalidate your feelings or whatever—you could be a lot to handle but he didn’t mind. You were his and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t yours too.

[septembersghost]

Dean Winchester has two birthdays. there's January 24th, of course, the day he was born to his parents, to his name, to a road unfurling ahead that none of them could possibly foresee (and if they could have, where would they have swerved to try to turn it differently? was there even a fork in the path to take? were the wheels unstoppably set in motion?). but at the age of four, that birthday, human and fragile as it is, curled to ash, faded, watercolors leeched by time. birthday candles and balloons are hard to come by when you're moving from one cheap motel to the other.

his second birthday is something else. September 18. he's technically still only 29, but he's nothing of the sort. he's spent longer than the span of that time in hell, tortured turned torturer, suffering every second from machinations beyond his awareness, where they wanted him broken, then broke him out. he awakens in the dark, alone, the walls of a wooden casket pressing in, the flame of a lighter threatening to steal too much oxygen. the grave is a womb unto itself. he kicks and claws his way out, bruised and bloody knuckles, caked in cemetery dirt, in bleached and brittle grass, in coffin splinters, a livid brand on his arm, sun beating down, and the world is so quiet at first. the screaming has stilled everywhere. he emerges with his body pieced back together, lacking its physical scars, yet every freckle and eyelash and bone is in place. the scars reside elsewhere. heart. mind. soul deep. second birth, he doesn't cry, and there's no one to immediately hold him (they will, after they douse him in holy water and after he cuts himself open with a knife to prove he's human. after they lunge at him with barely restrained violence and disbelief that he could be there. then they hold on like they were drowning and he's dry land, if only for a moment). homecoming when you can never go home. homecoming when you are the home.

resurrection is a strange process - all is new and shining and old and rotted at once, your ephemeral death will always exist, even if the rough hewn grave marker stands watch over nothing but a hole in the ground. the world you know shifts on its axis just enough that you, and only you, feel the change in gravity. you're never without that death now. never without the shadow of the pit. but the world is also bright with vibrancy and sparks more to life with you in it, and the sensory lure of joy and action and love resides there, and people will always need saving. this is how you learn to exist, dead and alive at once. rebirth is walking back into danger and thinking, I can bear this, because I must. rebirth is remembering the worst possible horror and still smiling gently before you wrap yourself in loved ones' arms. rebirth is asking - why choose me? and then defiantly making choices all your own.

burial to birth, there's now very little difference.

you don't think you deserve to be saved, but it's a clarion call, clear and resounding and echoing across the planes of heaven and the chasms of hell, whispering and howling, the miracle bell of it ringing with every step you take, every life you touch, every time the light strikes your quick hands, reflects in your green eyes. Dean Winchester is saved. breathe in anew, exhale amen.

[plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms]

Nemesis: Reformation (1)

Summary: Frank Castle didn’t expect to end up in a HYDRA base when he followed a lead intended for the syndicates. He also didn’t expect to find you barely conscious and tortured within an inch of your life. His decision to save you at that moment led you to spend the next ten years rebuilding yourself from the ashes of your former life. Frank Castle, Billy Russo, and Matt Murdock aid you in your quest for retribution until your old life catches up with you.

Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, MCU, The Punisher, Daredevil

Pairings: Female Reader x (Frank Castle, Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff)

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. explicit descriptions of trauma and torture, mentions of character death/s, angst, polyamorous relationships, reverse harem, blatant disregard for canon timelines and events, Punisher canon level of violence and gore, strong language

A/N: PART TWO OF THE TRILOGY IS HERE! Just in case it’s not clear yet, Reformation tells the story after Nemesis sacrifices herself to save Bucky and before she reunites with the Avengers. This is the missing 10 years in between that spent with our 3 wonderful Netflix men. Bear with me while we establish a few things before we run straight into the hurricane.

Much thanks as always to @its-my-little-dumpster-fire​​ for beta reading, the chapter title, and for her great insight into these characters. All mistakes are mine.

No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.

Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

2:1 Mashed Potatoes

Shit. Fuck. Goddamn it.

A slew of profanities was running laps in Frank Castle’s mind as he quietly turned the corners in a darkened base he just then realized he should have no business being in. He was following a lead on one of the syndicates after whispers reached him of a possible new drug being developed that was ten times more potent than the cocaine they were already known for. He wasn’t expecting to be led straight into a Hydra base.

Hydra was way above his pay grade and while his reputation as the Punisher was by no means an exaggeration, he wasn’t about to pick a fight with them outmanned and outgunned. Billy would argue that he was reckless, but he wasn’t an idiot. He decided to only risk 15 minutes, a nagging feeling in his gut telling him to stick around. He would find any information he could within that window and keep himself undetected. After that he would high tail it out of there.

The surprises just kept coming.

He kept low and stuck to the shadows, his steps consciously made lighter and his rifle close to his chest at the ready. He ended up in what looked like a large laboratory, messy and haphazardly setup but the beeping equipment let him know that this was a heavily used room. He ducked behind large crates at the sound of several voices ahead of him. Peaking around the corner, he saw several men standing huddled with their backs to him. One of them he recognized as the man from the syndicates he was tailing.

His better judgement screamed at him to get the hell out of there while he still had the chance, but one of the men stepped to the side revealing the one thing that threw all his logical reasoning out the window.

A captive.

You were made to sit on a steel chair, hands and legs bound though your body was limp and your head was lolled to the side. One of them gripped your chin tight and made you look at him, your hair matted with blood and sticking to your bruised face. The weak fluttering of your eyelashes was the only sign that you were still alive, barely any strength left to even open your eyes.

The tactical suit you were wearing was torn to shreds with barely any scraps left covering your blood-drenched body, revealing to him all the deep injuries inflicted on you that were obviously repeatedly aggravated and kept open. Frank knew torture when he saw it and he knew you had no fight left in you.

“What are your orders, Sir? We need to move again soon.” one of them asked the one clutching your face.

“We have no more use for her.” He turned your face from side to side, sneering down at you. “Kill her.”

“Goddamn it,” he mumbled under his breath.

Frank decided quickly.

The first shot he fired hit the man holding you at the back of his head. He fell to the floor with a loud thud and caused the other three to turn to him startled. The room was filled with the sound of loud gunfire and the blaring alarms soon rang in his ears. He steeled himself and aimed his gun precisely at the remaining men, rushing over to you the moment they dropped dead.

He hurriedly ripped at the ropes restraining you, your body falling onto his without the support. He hoisted your body up by the waist, your body nearly falling to the ground from the battering it endured. He grunted as you suddenly started struggling in his hold, kicking and punching at him weakly but with more strength than he expected from someone who looked a breath away from death.

“Let me go, you bastards,” you slurred with another kick at his shin, your hazy brain assuming he was one of your captors.

Frank couldn’t help the small smirk that crept up on his face. He was happy to be proven wrong. You still had some fight left in you. He took the butt of his gun and swiftly hit the back of your head, knocking you unconscious.

Frank Castle barging through the front doors of Anvil beaten and bathed in crimson was not a strange occurrence, expected even. Coming through carrying an unconscious and horrifyingly injured woman in his arms was, oddly enough, also not strange. Still, it alarmed his friends all the same. Billy Russo and Curtis Hoyle jumped to their feet, chairs scraping against the floor and drinks immediately forgotten.

“What the hell, Frank?” Curtis asked urgently, following the other man as he charged into the facility’s medical room.

“I’ll explain later. I need you to help her, Curt.”

Billy was quicker to fall in line than Curtis, his trust in his best friend prompting him to pull out the only surgical bed they had to lay you on. You were a grisly sight and Frank ripping your clothes off to reveal the full extent of your injuries made even the Marines wince.

“She needs a hospital!” Curtis protested even as he began pulling out supplies.

“Hydra was about to off her when I got there.”

“Hydra?” Even Billy was starting to hesitate, his hand nervously running through his hair. “Why the hell are you messing with Hydra, Frankie?”

“Bad lead,” he growled.

Any further discussion was interrupted by you convulsing, your body finally giving in to the shock of extensive torture. Curses flew around the room as the three men scrambled to stabilize you; one dousing you with antiseptic, another pressing on your gaping wounds to keep you from further bleeding out, and the last frantically employing every last piece of medical knowledge he had on you.

It took hours to get you to a point where Curtis was half confident you weren’t going to just drop dead in the middle of the night. By the end of it they themselves looked like they had been through a war; clothes drenched in your life force, sweat dripping down their backs, breathing heavy and ragged. The stench of death still hung in the air as the three men slumped on the floor exhausted.

“So who’s the pretty girl, Frankie?”

Frank chuckled and shook his head, a tired smile of amusement curving the corner of his lips at the question. He didn’t bother denying it. “You planning to put the moves on an unconscious girl, Bill? At least give her a chance to say no.”

Billy scoffed and lightly punched the other man’s arm, recognizing that he was trying to make light of an obviously bad situation. He stared at your immobile figure, strapped to breathing tubes and hooked to multiple machines as he ran a hand through his already messed up hair. You were covered in bandages, the evidence of your ordeal more apparent now after they had cleaned you up as best they could.

“I’m serious, Frankie. Did you see the emblem on her suit?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s an Avenger.”

“Looks like it.” Frank scratched at the stubble on his chin and shook his head. “You think I should have just left her there?”

“No,” Billy said immediately. There was no doubt that Frank did the right thing by pulling you out. “I’m just worried about what kind of trouble my best friend brought home this time.”

“I thought Billy Russo liked trouble?” Frank teased. The smile on Billy’s face as he stared at you again was boyish.

Yeah, he liked trouble.

It was four days later when you surfaced from the induced coma they put you under to help you heal. Your whole body felt like lead and even wiggling your fingers was a chore. You tried to move your head and your eyes struggled to open. The panic was creeping in your chest at the feeling of being completely out of control of your own body.

“Stop movin’ around so much.”

The command was firm and delivered in a low gravelly voice that should have made you feel immediately threatened, but strangely enough calmed your pounding heart. You tried to talk, but the coarseness in your throat felt like you swallowed broken glass.

“Goddamn it, just stop for a minute.”

You heard his heavy approaching footsteps before you felt strong arms wrap around your shoulders, lifting you to prop you up against the pillows. You whimpered from the ache in your body as you tried to open your eyes again. When you broke through the blurring of your vision, the face that greeted you took you by surprise.

He was handsome even with the fading bruises and healing cuts on his face. He was wide and built like a tank, apparent even underneath the loose casual clothes he wore. Everything about him was intimidating. You should be intimidated.

But his eyes were kind.

A part of you was certain he had never been called this before and he would surely think you had lost your mind, but he looked like an angel to you. You had always pictured angels as warriors, winged weapons of deliverance. That was what you saw in front of you; a ruthless soldier with kind eyes that had a permanent veil of deep pain that you somehow related to.

Wordlessly he held a glass of water in front of you, the plastic straw pressing on your cracked lips. He reminded you to drink slowly and patiently waited until you finished. You knew that you should be more on your guard, having woken up in another unfamiliar place with a stranger watching over you. Last time that happened it was a prelude to months of torture, but something about him made you feel safe for the first time in so long.

“You’re not Hydra,” you rasped, wincing slightly at the persistent pain in your throat. He was just as surprised as you that you were coherent enough upon waking to put two and two together.

Frank nodded. “And you’re an Avenger.”

“Not really,” you snorted, the bitterness seeping into your expression before a somber sadness settled in.

Frank recognized the defensive show of strength and he admired you for it. Though he could see that you weren’t hostile, he recognized that you were still partly on your guard despite your basically defenseless state. That meant you were smart. Good.

“I’m Frank,” he offered.

You regarded him for a long time before deciding to give him your name. He nodded again as an awkward silence stretched on between you until you decided to break it.

“Thank you, Frank.”

He gave you a small smile and reached over to pat the edge of your bed. He had a million questions he wanted to ask you, top of the list was how the hell you ended up half dead in a Hydra base but the haunted look on your face held him back.

“Rest some more. I’ll check on you later and bring you some food.” He stood to leave the room, but before he could walk out the door your small and hesitant voice stopped him.

“They killed my sister,” you said in almost a whisper, the struggle was clear in your tone. “They made me watch.”

After you managed to force out your first words, the rest just came tumbling out. You’re not sure exactly what compelled you, but you found yourself spilling your whole story to Frank. Maybe it was the exhaustion of having to resist under torture or maybe it was the drugs still swimming in your system. Maybe it was the months in isolation with no one to talk to, no one to cry to. Maybe it was the countless times you begged in your mind for anyone to find and save you as your tormentors tore through your skin over and over.

Whatever it was, by the end of it you were sobbing quietly as you stared blankly up at the ceiling. Your cries didn’t come in racking heaves; you were much too tired for that. They simply ran down your face and left a burning ache in your chest. Frank was rooted to his spot as you told your story, standing just beside your cot with gritted teeth and eyes that had turned murderous. He was looking anywhere but at you.

“You are an Avenger,” he growled lowly. “If what you did isn’t hero shit then I don’t know what is.”

It was strange to find comfort and validation from a man you had just met, but has already done so much for you when the very people he was insisting you were on par with had torn you down so completely.

At least one of them did.

You swallowed hard as you tried to reign in the weight of the emotions all at once hitting you like a truck. The salty tears had seeped into the bandages near your face and the wounds beneath were starting to sting. Frank assured you that you could lay low there and heal for as long as you needed to. He left you shortly after and as you drifted off to a dreamless sleep, you wondered what you would do once you were fully recovered. Would you return to your old life?

Was there even anything to return to?

It would be another week before Frank introduced you to Billy and Curtis. He didn’t want to overwhelm you so he had taken on the role of temporary caretaker during that time, patiently checking over your injuries and bringing you whatever you needed. When the other two Marines walked into your room for the first time, you practically cowered behind Frank.

He sat on the chair next to your bed, trying to look at you with reassurance and allowing you to grip onto his arm. Curtis introduced himself first and saw you flinch when he raised a hand in a friendly wave. He expected you to have PTSD just from the amount of injuries you had and he recognized it now in your reactions. He was quick to tell you of his counseling group and to offer you separate sessions should you feel up to talking.

Billy though was either oblivious or completely undeterred by your discomfort, stepping closer to you with that cocky smirk on his face. Your grip on Frank’s arm tightened and he shot a warning look at his best friend. You were the weariest of Billy. The almost analytical curiosity in his dark eyes as he watched you made you feel uneasy. You knew his kind, a charmer with a way with words.

“I’m Billy. I hope you’re getting everything you need in my facility.”

Frank had told you that it was a harried group effort from all three of them that brought you back from the brink of death. He also told you that you were essentially living under Billy’s roof. You were truly grateful, but just like with Frank you didn’t know exactly what prompted you to react a certain way to Billy. Maybe it was the meticulously smooth swoop of his hair or how his suit was perfectly tailored to his body. Maybe his ridiculously pretty face just simply unsettled you.

“I’ve had better service at a McDonald’s.”

Frank barked out a short laugh, unable to stop the reaction from your unexpected comment. Curtis, the big man that he was, desperately tried to stifle his giggling. Neither had ever seen a woman who didn’t immediately fawn over their friend. There was just something magnetic and compelling about Billy that attracted people. That made your reaction unusually refreshing and surprisingly caused Billy to grin cheekily at you after the initial shock had worn off.

“We can’t have that now can we, pretty girl?”

It sounded like a threat.

Despite the less than warm first impressions, you did manage to mutter a small thanks before they left your room. Surely they were good men for helping you, but more than that you trusted Frank. 

He had grown protective of you, having been the one who found you he now felt like he was responsible for you. Behind that and the gratitude you felt, a friendship had developed between you and the usually gruff soldier. He never left you completely alone with Billy and Curtis. He also refused to tell them your story, always saying that it wasn’t his to tell. You would tell them when you were ready and only if you wanted to.

He didn’t expect you to tell him you were ready to leave so soon after only a couple of months of recovery. He stared at you with his mouth slightly open over the pizza you were sharing. After a long pause, he slowly started to chew again as he mulled over your words. Billy sat next to him, shaking his head and chuckling as he finished a slice before tossing the crust into the box.

“Sick of us already, pretty girl?” he teased.

“Can’t leech off you forever, Russo.”

“I’m not complaining. You can repay me somehow,” he winked.

You snorted. You were still mostly uncomfortable around Billy, but during your time there you had gotten to know him quite a bit at his insistence. You knew by now what he was saying behind his increasingly flirtatious comments. You didn’t have to leave. No one was making you leave.

“Something Curtis said yesterday stuck with me.”

“What did that idiot say?” Frank chuckled.

You gave him a small smile in return, enjoying their brotherly jabs at each other. “He said I shouldn’t just choose a path. He said I should make one. I can’t make my own path if I don’t even know where I wanna go, Frank.”

He studied you again, saw the determined set of your shoulders despite the fear flitting across your eyes. He didn’t like it. He didn’t think you were ready and he didn’t think it was a good idea. He had a bad feeling in his gut. 

“Okay.”

Billy was surprised at Frank’s agreement since he shared the same hesitations he had about this. He’s only gathered bits and pieces of your story from overhearing your conversations and by observing you, but he knew enough to know that this was a big decision you made. He sighed.

“Fine. I’ll drive.” 

They should have listened to their gut.

Your first stop was to see Jill. She was technically your only family left and you felt guilt weigh heavily on you for not checking on her sooner. She loved Lily as much as you did and you were feeling nervous. You didn’t know what you would say to her. What exactly do you say to someone after you got the love of their life murdered?

You expected your sister’s death to destroy her and for her to be resentful of you. You expected the anger. You wanted it even. You believed you deserved it. Why were you allowed to survive while Lily hadn’t? You didn’t expect to see an utterly broken person sobbing over your gravestone.

It didn’t even register with you until that moment that people thought you died too. It didn’t hit you until you saw the names on the gravestones, yours and Lily’s side by side. Jill had always been the steady cheerful presence in your lives, calm even in a crisis. You barely recognized the shell of a woman in front of you; eyes blank save for the overwhelming grief, face gaunt and lacking its usual color, and harsh words of denial spilling freely from her lips. Months after your deaths, she still couldn’t fathom the thought of you both gone.

What could you say? 

There were no words. So you turned around and walked away before she could see you, the cold wind carried the sound of her crying as you left. Frank had stood beside you as you watched Jill and he saw how your whole body went rigid at the sight. He didn’t stop you when you retreated. He didn’t say a word as he followed you back to where Billy was waiting by the car. He halted only when he felt you tug weakly on his arm.

“I’m going to kill him, Frank,” you said, voice low and ominous. He noticed your grip tighten as your fist started to shake. “I’m going to kill all of them.”

“No.”

He knew that look. He knew that fury intimately. If he was being honest, he was actually surprised that you hadn’t made this decision when you first opened your eyes. If you had made it then, maybe he would have just let you but not now after he’s gotten to know you. You were too soft and kind for the self-destructive task you wanted to take on. There was good still in you and there was hope for a life beyond all you were put through. He knew there was no turning back once you started on this path. 

He knew.

“This isn’t the path you wanna make for yourself. Trust me, sweetheart. You don’t want this.”

You gritted your teeth and glared up at him. He knew that look too. It was the same one he had when his mind was made up and there was no stopping him. You weren’t asking for permission. This was happening whether he was going to get on board or not.

“You sure?”

You nodded. He groaned and ran his hand across his face as he made his decision.

“Fine. You’re going to start training with Billy and me.”

“I didn’t ask for your help, Frank.”

“Well you’re still getting it,” he said firmly as he started walking back to the car, Billy raising an eyebrow at your approach. “And you’re going to counseling with Curtis.”

You started to protest as you caught up to him, but he just held up a hand to shut you up. If you were really going to do this, then he was going to make damn sure that you were prepared and had backup.

He really should have listened to his gut.

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Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

[miss-choco-chips]

F’coffee

-.-.-.-.-.-

Honestly. What did Bruce even think would happen? He should have known better.

Tim wasn’t Dick, indoctrinated from a young age to be a good, somewhat (when convenient) obedient son. Tim only went along with Bruce’s shit because, more often than not, it aligned with what he himself wanted. He also wasn’t Damian, so easily manipulable when one knew which buttons to push. And he certainly wasn’t Jason, who would sink his own ship to kill the captain.

So, when Tim and Bruce fought, and his adopted father decided to pull the ‘you live under my roof and work in my company, so I’m the boss all the way through’ card, well…

Yeah. Tim wasn’t going to take that lying down. He had a childhood of zero authority figures to obey and an overabundance of sass, plus a complete lack of fucks to give.

It was bound to go down like this.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

And, well. Tim had money. Like, an absurd amount of money. Even before being adopted by playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne, Tim had his own no small fortune stashed away, a couple of properties gathering dust, two trust funds and more antique cars that he knew what to do with. So he could just… burn through that money, or sell the cars, or make a living of renting the buildings he owned, and he would barely even scratch the surface of his deep wealth.

But it wasn’t about being able to live comfortably with minimum effort. Tim was trying to prove a point here. What point, fuck if he knew. But a point.

So here he was, on the other end of the wooden counter, a cute red cap falling over his eye as he looked dead into his friend’s eyes.

“Tim. Tim, you’re rich. Why are you working in a coffee shop?”

Seeing as Kon and Cassie were currently too busy being shocked, Tim shrugged and went back to cleaning the cup in his hands.

It was a plastic cup. It didn’t need cleaning, he could just toss it away. But it was his favorite plastic cup, and he was gonna save it as a family heirloom forever.

(The fact that the pretty customer from the morning shift had drawn cute little doodles all over it had nothing to do with it’s worth.)

“Teenage rebellion”, he finally said, carefully putting his treasure away.

“You are twenty.”

“Time is a social construct and I’m but a slinky falling down an endless flight of stairs.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Your face doesn’t make any sense. How is it so symmetrical? It defies nature.”

-.-.-.-.-.-

“What can I get for you?”

“I'll have a mocha caramel latte-chino, made with skim milk, no whipped cream.”

“Bart, no.”

“Please put that in a grande cup”

“I’m begging you, don’t do it.”

“But use the same amount of coffee that you'd put into a tall.”

“I’m warning you, you don’t want to do this.”

“That way there's about an inch of extra room on top.”

“I wish you had an extra inch so I could look straight into your eyes when I murder you.”

“To stir in my own nutmeg without spilling any coffee at all.”

“You’re dead to me. Also, I AM going to make you that drink and you WILL finish it or so help me God.”

“What do you want, Kon?”

“To not be here when Tim’s looking like he’s planning both our unsolved murders.”

-.-.-.-.-.-

When Kon entered the shop, the messenger bag slung over his shoulder bumping against his hip as he rushed in to get his caffeine intake before his evening classes, he wasn’t surprised at the scene.

Cassie being there was a given, since there was always at least one of them there at all times, supporting Tim in this ‘independence’ thing he was dead set on trying. Kon himself had his Tim Shift later that day, after his creative writing course. Bart had probably just left, considering the amount of empty cake platters littering the counter.

Tim being face down in said counter, uncaring about the mess, was also old news. The dude barely ever seemed to leave (Kon was almost completely sure he actually owned the place, since he’d never seen any sort of manager and Tim’s hours seemed to work around his weird sleep patterns all too perfectly), and distraught was his general state of being, so. Normal day as far as he could see.

Still, he had to ask. “What is it today?”

Cassie, eyes never leaving her magazine, chin resting in one hand as the other one scratched at Tim’s scalp, snorted.

“A cute boy started working in the tattoo place next door. He came in for a morning fix, when Tim was barely awake, and he said something stupid, so he’s been having an existencial crisis ever since.”

“I said ‘you too’, Kon. He said ‘thanks for the coffee, I’ll enjoy it!’ and I said ‘you too’. What is wrong with me?”

Kon snorts a little. Tim doesn’t seem to be very interested in doing his actual work, so he just jumps over the counter and starts working the machines himself.

“You know that’s a question you can only ask your therapist, Tim, but if you need to know, I’d say you’re highly sleep deprived and a dysfunctional bi?”

At that, Tim does turn to look at him. There’s some cake frosting clinging to his eyelashes, and his hair is a mess. It looks cute, to be completely honest, and Kon has to leave his unfinished latte on the side so he can hug the little shit.

“Aw, don’t pout, Timbo. I’m sure he thought you were cute. Just try to sleep a bit more tonight, so when he comes back tomorrow you’ll be a little more alert and won’t embarrass yourself.”

“What do you mean, when he comes back?”

“I mean, if he works next door, he’ll probably get his morning coffees here all the time, right?”

That seemed to drive Tim back into the distraught spiral. He smashed his head back into the counter, making dying whale noises until Cassie’s hand returned to his scalp.

Kon privately thinks Tim’s life is starting to sound like fanfiction. He wonders which type of background character he would be, in it.

-.-.-.-.-.-

The shop is called F’coffee. That’s why Cassie is convinced Tim is the actual owner; no one else would really think that’s a proper name for a serious establishment. Kon isn’t convinced all the way yet, but with Bart on her side and Tim staying silent on the subject, it is just a matter of time until she convinces him it’s totally okay for him to do his gym routine there. She thinks, with Tim being his own boss, no one would tell him to stop it, and it would help his friend’s business to bloom with new customers.

The place's general aesthetic is exactly what you would expect, with old wooden tables, comfy chairs, potted plants hanging from the walls and tall windows just a little bit stained. The smell is constantly of the strongest brew Tim has, Death Coffee (which he’s actually not legally allowed to sell, so he keeps it for himself), and just setting a foot in makes her feel instantly awake. It's also always warm, and the sweets on display look mouth watering no matter your personal preferences.

In short, it looks like something out of a movie. It’s a tad too perfect for her friend, but she thinks it also fits his obsessive need for perfection.

Except for the board. Oh, the board. Cassie loves it more than life itself.

Tim has divided the drinks in categories. And made up names for all of them.

“Yes, hello! I’d like to order a grande, iced, sugar-free vanilla Latte, with soy milk, but I can’t seem to find it in your menu…”

Tim’s dead eyes turn to Cassie for a second, before facing his customer again.

“You’re probably looking into the Normal People section”, he points out, before raising his hand to signal a bit to the left. “There you have the Pain In The Ass selection. There’s nothing just like you asked, but you have the It’s Britney Bitch beverage, which is almost exactly the same except I’ll add a middle finger drawing in the cup and charge you extra for emotional damages. Also, we’re out of soy milk.”

Or…

“Hey, good morning! I’d like to order…”

Tim raised a hand, stopping the chirpy, good looking young man dead in his tracks.

“Don’t tell me, I know what you need. I’ll just go ahead and prepare it.”

“But you don’t even know what I/”

“You’ll have a Cougar Bait. It has cacao cream, a strawberry pucker and some grenadine seeds. I think it's fitting, for you.”

And also…

“Hey, hum… Sorry, I just have to ask… what’s on the ‘Barista’s heart’ drink?”

“Cacao powder, almond milk and espresso. Also some organic coconut ash, that gives it the blacker-than-night color, that’s just a shade lighter than my soul.”

“...noted.”

Cassie snorts into her cup of Jack it up (coffee that tastes just like a Jack Daniel’s; having Tim working here has opened up her eyes to the possibilities), watching as Tim makes his own usual.

“What’s in that one?” She asks, out of curiosity, when she’s sure there’s no other customer close by.

“Six espresso shots.”

She waits for a second. Tim finishes the drink, carefully handling the dark liquid inside his favorite plastic cup.

“...okay, and?”

“And that 's it.”

“Tim, that-- that would kill you?”

“Duh. Why did you think it was called The Last Sip?”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

[bertoto-hoover]

secondhand smoke - bertholdt hoover oneshot

hihi just a super self indulgent oneshot that i concocted while i was drunk <3 ~1100 words! (read it on AO3 here)

characters: bertholdt hoover

warnings: super romanticised smoking!! also mentions of alcohol and stuff, no sexytimes though

Technicolour lights whirled about the dim room, illuminating vague shapes of people drunkenly dancing to the loud music. You could see the faces of your friends highlighted with rainbow colours, smiling and singing badly. They really knew how to throw a house party.

Also smiling, you gradually pulled away from Sasha, who’d roped you into joining her and Connie for a dance. You mumbled a quick explanation and turned, looking for the door.

It’s not like you weren’t having a good time, but the flashing and singing and inescapable music was quickly getting a little too much for you to handle in your tipsy state, and you were in desperate need of a quick breather.

The bass rippled up through the floor and resounded about your body as you wormed your way through the crowded party, careful not to spill your drink.

Stepping outside felt like being transported to a different dimension. As the front door closed behind you, the music faded to muffled background noise, and the street ahead of you was only illuminated with the gentle glow of the streetlights above.

You sighed deeply, enjoying the sudden calmness that came with the cool night-time breeze.

“Hey,” a soft voice piped up from beside you, and you turned your head to see Bertholdt. If he hadn’t spoken, you probably would've missed him; even with his tall frame, his black hair and clothes meant he hardly stood out from the shadows.

“I should’ve known you’d be out here,” you smiled at him, taking a sip of your drink. It was no secret that Bertholdt didn’t exactly fare well in huge noisy crowds - not before a few drinks, at least.

He chuckled quietly and stepped forwards, fumbling with a cigarette packet. The light reached him better now, and you could see a faint blush across his cheeks. He withdrew a single cigarette, offering it to you, but you shook your head.

“I’ve already picked my poison,” you held up your cup for a moment before taking another sip.

“So you have,” he mumbled, placing the tip of the cigarette between his lips. After patting his pockets down, looking for his lighter, he sighed and looked up at you sheepishly. “Any chance?”

“You’re in luck.” An amused smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you pulled out your own lighter and held it out to him.

His fingers briefly brushed yours as he took the lighter, sending a small shiver along your arm.

He nodded in gratitude and flicked the lighter, inhaling deeply. He returned your lighter and turned his head away from you before slowly exhaling, wisps of silver smoke contrasting the black of the night sky.

You caught yourself unintentionally admiring his appearance, noticing little things about him that you hadn’t before. Like the way light reflected off of his cheekbones, or the way his dark eyelashes curled ever so slightly. You took particular notice of the way his lips parted as he took another drag; right as his nonchalant vision flitted over to you.

You immediately looked away and occupied yourself with your drink, pretending you weren’t just staring at him. “So… Did Reiner drag you here?”

Bertholdt walked ahead and took a seat on the edge of the curb, ashing his cigarette onto the tarmac. He looked at you and smiled, slightly raising an eyebrow. “What, you don’t think I can have a good time by myself?”

Now that he mentioned it, Reiner was nowhere to be seen inside. You sat beside Bertholdt, setting your drink down on the pavement next to you.

“I didn’t think you liked parties.”

“I like parties,” he paused as he briefly puffed on his cigarette, exhaling away from you again. “But I also like having my own space.”

Just like me, you thought.

“Smoke doesn’t bother me, by the way.” You stated, noticing the distance he seemed to be putting between you.

“I’d rather be safe than sorry,” he looked at you kindly, but relaxed his posture.

You shrugged. “I’m indifferent. I definitely don’t need an entire cigarette though.”

He glanced at you, visibly pondering something. As you were about to ask what was up, he flipped the half-smoked cigarette in his fingers, offering you the filter end. Without thinking, you leaned forward and took a quick drag.

The sharp smoke immediately caught in the back of your throat, sending you into an undignified coughing fit. Bertholdt started to frantically rub your back as you covered your mouth and sputtered quietly.

When the itch in the back of your throat had soothed, you sat up, red in the face and teary eyed. “Oops.”

Bertholdt laughed reassuringly. “I’ll take the blame for that,” he continued to gently rub your back, eventually letting his hand rest on your shoulder, subtly pulling you closer to his chest.

Now that the imminent threat of cigarette induced death was gone, you became painfully aware of his arm around you, and the mild scent of his cologne. The air of tipsy confidence that you’d carried dissolved along with the pain in your throat, and heat flooded to your face.

“Maybe that was a little too concentrated for you...” He spoke softly, and you could feel his heartbeat start to speed up. You looked up at him - you weren’t the only one blushing - and it became clear that any semblance of confidence you’d had now belonged to him. He was even closer to you than you thought, and nerves filled your chest, along with a curious excitement.

Still blushing heavily, he looked into your eyes and brought the cigarette back up for another drag. With his free hand he awkwardly brushed a strand of stray hair out of your face, and delicately tilted your chin up before lightly settling his hand on the side of your neck.

Goosebumps prickled your skin as your eyes stared into his. As if by instinct, you shyly brought your hand up to rest on the back of his neck. You knew what was about to happen, and the anticipation was killing you.

Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion as Bertholdt closed his eyes and leaned in. He gently pressed his lips to yours, and the taste of smoke gradually filled your mouth.

Your combined hearts pounded so hard you could hear them as he lingered a little longer, enjoying the kiss.

He slowly pulled away, stroking the line of your jaw with his thumb and breathing shakily.

In the heat of the moment, you almost forgot to exhale, and quickly expelled the spent smoke.

You looked back up at him, and he discarded the cigarette before gingerly cupping your face in his hands. “Is this okay?”

Still in awe, you only nodded, eliciting another kiss, and another, and another, until you were both breathless.

Bertholdt smiled, resting his forehead against yours, his face flushed deep pink. “We should go to more parties.”

[ga-yuu]

~Kurama~Main Story Chapter 24~

Chapter 23

*

*

*

-------Part 1-------

Kurama: “Is it painful?’

It’s a question without any embellishment, which is why I couldn’t disguise my true feelings at the moment.

Yoshino: “It is..”

(I can’t help it anymore...)

(It’s hot...I can’t think anymore...)

Kurama: “I see.”

(Why does Kurama have a painful expression?)

Kurama’s hand was placed gently on my throat and his sharp nails brushed against my skin.

Kurama: “Tell me what you want.”

Yoshino: "What I want..."

Suddenly the events of yesterday came back to me as if they had happened a long time ago.

------FLASHBACK------

Kurama: “Don’t make any scratches except the ones I give you. In your last moments, I’ll let you sleep in your beautiful form.”

------FLASHBACK ENDS------

(I know...)

The only answer to what I should wish for fell into my heart.

Yoshino: "I...I don't want to be something I'm not proud of. So...I'd rather have Kurama end me here than I hurt anyone else."

Kurama: "...............Yoshino."

Kurama's voice softly calls out my name.

Yoshino: "Mm."

Kurama: "You have no regrets?"

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

1. If I could end up living the way I do. (+4/+4)

2. I'm afraid, but I have no regrets.

3. Dying is not the end.

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

Yoshino: "Don't worry. I have lived my life the way I wanted. It's not hopeless."

Kurama: "-----It's beautiful farewell, just like you."

I let out a breath as I felt the nails against my throat dig into my skin.

(Finally, it has come to this...)

Yoshino: "-----Thank you."

I spilled out a heartfelt smile.

At the same time, I felt warm tears flowing out of the corner of my eyes.

Kurama: "Nn......"

(.....I don't want to cry. If this is my last moments, I want to see Kurama's face.)

Annoyingly, my vision was blurred because of my tears.

I raised my arm to wipe my tears away hurriedly.....

(Eh?)

Yoshino: "K-Kurama...why are you crying?"

Kurama: "......!?"

Kurama's eyes widen with an expression as if he had no idea what I was talking about.

His beautiful red eyes were shining brightly and there were clear drops of tears running down his cheeks.

Kurama: "----What is this?"

As if he didn't even know how to cry, Kurama kept his face expressionless and didn't even try to wipe away his tears.

It was beautiful and painful, and my heart was choked with a mixture of emotions.

With a burning urge, I reached out and wipes the tears from Kurama's eyes.

Kurama: "................"

Quietly he lowered his eyelashes and my fingertips were wet from his tears.

(Ah)

Suddenly, Kurama grabs my hand and his gaze which had been lowered goes straight to me.

Yoshino: ".....Kurama?"

Kurama: "Now I understand clearly. I can't kill you. Not for ever."

(....Why..)

Kurama's tears had already stopped.

Just as I was about to speak, a huge amount of spell power poured out of Kurama's body.

Kurama: ".....! This power..."

------Part 2-------

Kurama: ".....! This power..."

Yoshino: "What's happening...?"

(The amount of spell power is overwhelming, yet strangely not scary.)

Kurama: "I don't know. I just....the unknown emotions that had been buzzing around in my head for so long have now quieted down."

Kurama put his hand right on my heart to check its beating.

A white light came from his palm and a powerful magic flowed into me.

Yoshino: "Mm....."

My heart is pounding and I feel the blood pumping through my body, almost knocking me unconscious.

Kurama: "Breathe. Concentrate and feel me."

Yoshino: "What..."

My bones are creaking and my body is screaming.

(It's as if I'm being remade.)

Kurama: "Be patient. From here own I'm going to start pumping my power into your body now so that it can restore the circuits of your power and become normal. At the some time, it destroys Yasuchika’s spell."

(Eh!?)

Yoshino: "How is that...possible...?"

I consciously calmed my ragged breathing and felt a wave of spell power flowing into me.

Kurama: "Demon's power is good at destroying things, but not suitable for healing. It takes a lot of energy to break the spell. But...it's now or never..."

(If this succeeds, we can survive without hurting anyone....)

Kurama: "But there is danger."

Yoshino: "Danger...?"

Kurama: "The quality of my power is different from Tamamo's. In addition to the risk of rejection...It's hard to read the wavelength of your soul and keep the right amount of spell power flowing. Even the destruction of a spell will involve your contents if you make a mistake in its operation."

Yoshino: "But...I was prepared to die...so, it's alright."

(It's not me I'm worried about.)

I ask Kurama terrifyingly.

Yoshino: "What happens to Kurama if this fails?"

Kurama: "I'm going to burn out all the circuits that connect you to me, or I'm going to run out of power and die before I can."

(I knew it!)

Yoshino: "You shouldn't risk your life like that..."

The look in his eyes was like the wind after a storm.

Kurama: "I'm not a fine manipulator by nature. Besides, it is impossible to read the wavelength of the human soul, which is an incomprehensible creature----is what I would have said before."

Yoshino: ".....Then what about now?"

Kurama: "I feel strangely close to your soul."

(That's....)

Kurama: "I'm going to destroy it."

Without stopping, his power keeps flowing into me even more.

Kurama: "Ku...."

The blood drained from his face, which was contorted in pain.

(I knew he's was being quite reckless......)

He is still recovering from the injuries inflicted by Ibuki and his shiny black wings are in tatters.

Biting his thin lips and killing his voice, Kurama looked more human than ever.

Kurama: ".....Nn......haa......"

Suddenly Kurama coughs and presses his lips with his other palm.

(He's coughing blood!)

-----Part 3------

Suddenly Kurama coughs and presses his lips with his other palm.

(He's coughing blood!)

Kurama did not look at his hand, which were stained with red.

It made a faint sound like ashes burning down.

Kurama's skin cracks thinly from where he is touching me.

Yoshino: "Kurama!"

Kurama: "Don't make a fuss. It's only a side effect."

Yoshino: "But Kurama, you're..."

Kurama: "I'll hear all you complaints later....."

(Come on....)

My heart hurts more than my body creaks and I squeeze my voice out.

Yoshino: "Why...I want to know why are you ...doing this...?"

Kurama: "----Because."

The blue flames that surround us grew even bigger and Kurama smiled at me.

Kurama: "I was late....but now I've realized it. It's called 'love'. It's because I love you, that's why....What are you going to do about it?"

Yoshino: "Eh....."

I even secretly thought that Kurama might have the same feelings as me.

But he didn’t allow me to find out.

(So Kurama loves me too.....)

Kurama: "Look. I may be in such a mess, but as long as I feel your warmth, no one can invade my soul. Be proud. You made me strong."

Yoshino: "I....."

I looked up at him, stunned and full of feelings.

I suddenly feel lighter.

Kurama: "-----It's done."

The pain and fever instantly vanish from my body.

The consciousness becomes more clear.

(Did you break Yasuchika-san's spell...?)

The blue flames disappear, and Kurama's body which had been supporting me, lost its strength.

Yoshino: "!!"

Kurama's body falls to the ground.

Yoshino: "Kurama! Kurama, are you okay!?"

Kurama: ".................."

(.....! He's just unconscious.)

He is breathing faintly but does not respond to any calls.

The cracks on his skin, still continue to spread.

(His body is about to break down.)

(Kurama saved me by risking his life.)

(What can I do? How can I live up to that feeling?)

My body is still too tired to stand, but my mind is unusually clear.

-----It is the strength of our feelings that brings out our powers.

(If so, I hope that I’m now more strongly than ever.)

I placed my palm on Kurama's chest and took a deep breath.

Yoshino: "The power of nine-tail fox----save Kurama! Give back to Kurama the power that was poured into me earlier!"

The blood is pumping through my body.

My consciousness, which was beginning to return to normal, became hazy again and the edges of my vision turned white.

(The spell is reacting.)

(I should not faint now!)

My whole body is hot, but my toes are rapidly becoming cold.

My heart is beating so fast and I can't breathe.

(It hurts...)

Still, I didn't take my hand away from Kurama.

(I don't want to lose...)

I felt the power transferred from my palm to Kurama's body like it was water.

I saw the cracked parts slowly returning to normal.

(I did it!)

However the spell that flowed out of me was too much for me to stop.....

But I couldn't pull away my palm and I felt it like it was frozen to Kurama's chest.

Yoshino: "...I'm ...at my limit...."

As the lights flickered on and off, Kurama's eyes opens.

Yoshino: "Kurama!"

Kurama: "....What are you doing?"

------Part 4------

Kurama: "....What are you doing?"

He gasps as he forcibly tears off my arm that was transferring the power.

The process stops and I exhaled.

Kurama(glares cutely): "It seems to have been easy for you to return my power because you had just taken from me, but do you know you could actually die from doing that."

Yoshino: "Sorry, but...I wanted to save Kurama just as Kurama saved me."

(Also, that's not the only reason...)

Yoshino: "Also, I love you too."

Kurama: "!!!"

Kurama's eyes widened but his face was still pale.

Kurama: "I don't know what to say at times like this."

But then a look of clarity comes over his face and Kurama looks straight at me.

Kurama: "....Yoshino. Listen to me. I'm only going to say this once..... Thank you."

Yoshino(blushing): ".......Mm."

His beautiful face approaches and I naturally close my eyes.

(Kurama....)

Yoshino: "Mm....."

Our lips touch and gently separates.

(I never dreamed, such a day would come.)

Kurama stood up and held my body.

Kurama: "We'll have to deal with Ibuki and the others soon. I'm sure they'll soon receive the news that their spell on you has been broken."

Kurama starts walking while holding me in his arms.

(There are lots of things I wanna ask him now about what's going on.)

Yoshino: "Are you going to join the Rebels?"

Kurama: "No, not now."

Kurama answered me briefly and we flew to------

..............

Yoritomo: "Yoshino! Did you break Yasuchika's spell?"

Kagetoki: "You look exhausted."

Yoshino: "Yoritomo-sama! Kagetoki-san!"

Yoritomo-sama and Kagetoki-san calls out to us as we appear before the main body of the Shogunate at the bottom of the cliff.

They were about to dismount and walk up to us, when his retainers hurriedly stopped them.

Yoritomo-sama holds up his hand lightly to stop them.

(Oh! Kurama..didn't hide his wings....and I...)

Kagetoki-san suddenly throws my hood over my head to cover my silver hair.

Kagetoki: "It's annoying to be seen. Wear it."

Yoshino: "Thank you."

Kurama: "We'll talk more later. For now."

Yoritomo: "I know."

Like that, we all went to the main camp----

After the soldiers had retired to the camp, Kurama and I explained to Yoritomo-sama and Kagetoki-san about how Yasuchika-san's spell was undone."

Yoritomo: "When we got the information that you had been manipulated by Yasuchika, we wondered what would happen....But now, it seems like we made the right decision to leave it to Kurama."

Kagetoki: "I agree. Thanks to you, we've been able to keep the Court's private army in check. We were able to control the advance team, which had been lulled into a false sense of security."

(Also, Akihito-sama said...)

(It was the Imperial Court's soldiers who attacked the advance party, but they spread false information to make the Shogunate and the Rebels fight each other....)

Yoshino: "Also, how could Kurama have joined up with the Shogunate's main army?"

Kurama: "Tamamo lobbied Yoritomo to help me get in touch with you."

(I see!)

(By the way, when I was about to attack the Shogunate's main army, Kurama just appeared and stopped me, didn't he?)

Tamamo doesn't seem to be here, but I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Kagetoki: "By the time we got to you after you were attacked by the Court... the battle had already begun, with the starters clashing against each other. While we were trying to sort out the confusing information, Tamamo and Kurama met up with us."

(I'm glad that both Yoritomo-sama and Kagetoki-san are safe, even though they were in a difficult situation as soon as they arrived.)

Yoritomo: "As a result of our discussions....in order to preserve the power in Kurama, the Shogunate accompanied Ibuki and you as well."

Kagetoki: "The soldiers were quite upset at the sight of Kurama's wings, but there was no turning back. Now that Yoshino's powers has also come to light, it would be more effective to control the army without hiding too anything."

(I'm really sorry for all the soldiers. I hope that they all are safe.)

Yoshino: "What about Morinaga-san and Shigehira-kun...?"

Kagetoki: "There is no information about any death so far....Tamamo has gone to Morinaga and Shigehira to inform them of the situation, and they are working together."

I sighed in relief.

Yoshino: "Kurama, what about the Rebels?"

Kurama: "Yoshitsune and I have not been able to join forces because we were blocked by the soldiers of the Imperial Court."

-------Part 5-----

Kurama: "Yoshitsune and I have not been able to join forces because we were blocked by the soldiers of the Imperial Court. The fact that the Rebels have now stopped attacking the Shogunate suggests that they have been able to hold the reins of power without difficulty."

Kagetoki: "I have just received word from my messenger that....The Rebels, like the Shogunate, seem to have already brought their troops back to their main camp and are waiting. The Court has brought back to the camp the troops they were using to disturb the battlefield, so they are watching the situation."

(Yes, I know....I'm worried because I don't know what's going to happen.)

Yoshino: "So the Imperial Court has pulled out. So then, is today's battle is over?"

Yoritomo-sama shook his head to my question.

Yoritomo: "We planned to return to the team once Yoshino's manipulation was solved...but a war is a war, there will be night raids in any form."

(....Looks like we can't let our guard down tonight.)

Kagetoki: "The initial move on the part of the Imperial Court was brilliant, even if it did mean regaining control of the information war and undoing Yoshino's spell. It's all a bit too controlled for a hodgepodge, including the fact that the mastermind behind it has yet to be named. There are some very conniving people at work here..."

Yoshino: "Umm...I was taken by Shuten Doji, Ibuki to the main camp of the Court. There I was introduced to a man named Sutokuin."

Yoritomo and Kagetoki: "........"

Yoritomo-sama and Kagetoki-san's expressions were grim.

Yoritomo: "Are you sure that's the name you heard?"

Yoshino: "Yes. His first name is Akihito-sama...and he is the one who made a deal with Ibuki and seemed to be the mastermind in the Imperial Court. He also said the world thinks he's dead."

Kagetoki: "I see. If the person you said is alive now, he must be an old man."

(Really? But...)'

Yoshino: "But the Akihito-sama I met, is a young man. He's not that old."

My words surprised everyone.

Yoritomo: "He's not old. So is he a ghost? But he also made a deal with Ibuki, so he must not be dead."

Kurama: "He must not be a normal human being. The power leaking from Ibuki is strangely altered."

(Who is that man...?)

When I think about him, I saw him in his elegant noble aura with a melancholy smile.

Kagetoki: "I don't know if that's relevant...."

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

Okay! Let me interrupt here!! Actually, the thing is, while I was taking screenshots of this chapter, my phone's storage got full....I was pressing the screenshot button, but I didn't notice the message that kept popping up saying "Your storage is full" and the screenshots of the last part of this chapter was not saved....so let me just summarize what's happened at end, that is if my memory is correct! So Kurama temporarily joins the Shogunate to take down Ibuki...because he's a threat. Also, Kurama here confirms that Ibuki is in love with Yoshino. The chapter ends with Kurama asking Yoshino how she seduced Ibuki? He’s like “What the hell did you do infront of him?” 

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Chapter 25