#what makes it so much worse is that i had braces for like five years

[venusiinfurss]

as someone with Fucked Up Teeth it offends me personally when actors get veneers

[nanamisgirly]

part 1, you can still read this as a stand alone.

cw p in v, unprotected sex, choso is kind of doing hyper fixation, nipple piercings, Prince Albert piercing, both are dominant, oral sex (f. receiving), big dick choso, degrading and praising, riding, mating press, face sitting. mostly smut with a little plot (?)

˖ 𑣲 reblogs and comments are very muuuch appreciated ma girliees <333

choso stood in the shower, slapping his head against the wall, cursing himself for what he had done last night. was he dumb? no—he was the dumbest. not only had he given you a lap dance, but he had totally lost control… all because he got carried away by gojo's antics… and your cockiness.

“i'm so dumb, please, what was i thinking.”

he must have freaked you out—you, his pretty crush. his lovely crush of five years!!!! he had wanted to wait for the right moment, take you out first, maybe? just keep it slow. he had plans—not concrete ones, sure, considering he had been putting off asking you out for four years— BUT HE WAS ABOUT TO!! and then? then, he flubbed everything. 

put his hand in your panties like some kind of pervert. 

“am i crazy?” the memories of last night kept replaying in his mind like a never-ending torture reel—the way your eyes had widened, gojo's obnoxious cackle, the way he moved on top of you…

his hands flew to his face, covering it as the image of him taking off his shirt surfaced. 

“why did i do thaaaat?” it's been hours now but he still was analyzing every second, every word, every breath—like some kind of detective trying to piece together a crime scene.

“i wasn't even drunk, just a little tipsy, please,” he muttered to himself. his brain refused to move on. he needed a reset. a cleanse. what if he vanished? he could pack his bags, drop out, change his name, move to remote village where no one knew the name Choso Kamo—

“you're miserable.” of course he couldn't do all that, and of course suguru and satoru had to invite you over their shared college apartment.

meanwhile you? you had spent all day thinking about last night. the way choso—the usual awkward choso—had moved against you, the heat of his body, the way his hands gripped you. the way his usual reserved, flushed face was nowhere to be seen—replaced by something demanding, dominant.

and it had left you aching. all day long, the pulse between your thighs wouldn't let up. only intensifying as you replayed the moment his bulge pressed against your heated core, giving you that perfect pressure.

which is exactly why you were in his room now. 

he had tried to escape you all night, hunched over on the couch, avoiding eye contact like his entire existence was a mistake. the moment you called his name, his entire body tensed, bracing for impact.

and now? he was hiding in his room.

choso had had shot up so fast he nearly tripped over the coffee table. “i—i gotta—” he didn't even finish his sentence before he had bolted to his room, slamming the door behind him.

a beat of silence had passed before gojo wheezed. “ohhh, he's so fucked.” as he exchanged a look with geto. you laughed, stretching out on the couch before standing up and followed choso right after he had left.

‘yeah, this was gonna be fun’ you thought.

he was so different than from last night. you needed to know if it was just a fluke. if, perhaps, he regretted it. or if he wanted you as much as you now realized you wanted him.

choso was losing it. he was pacing his room like a madman, running his hands through his damp hair, yanking off his shirt as heat crawled over his skin. his heart was beating out of his chest, his entire body on edge from just one moment of closeness with you.

but how was he supposed to face you after last night? after making a complete fool of himself? he wanted you so badly—had wanted you for years—but now it was all ruined. you probably thought he was weird… or worse, pathetic.

“…choso?” 

fuck.

your voice was soft, almost hesitant, but something about it send a shiver down his spine. he should have ignored it. pretend to be asleep. do anything but let you in.

but then the doorknob had turned. and there you were.

the second you had stepped inside, he knew.

knew from the way your eyes had darkened the moment they had landed on him. from the way you shut the door behind you without looking back.

he swallowed thickly. “y-you need something?”

you stared at him for a moment, eyes roaming over his bare, inked chest—his damn barbells—his flushed face, the nervous twitch of his fingers at his side. he looked unsure, so lost—like he had no idea what he had done to you.

‘how dare he look like that after making me ache for him all night?’

“…yeah,” you finally said, voice low. “i do.”

you stepped forward, pushing him back until his knees hit the bed. he sat without thinking, eyes wide, lips parted in shock. you leaned in, caging him in with your hands on his thighs. his breath hitched.

“i've been thinking about last night,” you admitted, your fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against his skin. “a lot.”

choso swallowed hard, his entire body going stiff. “y-you have?”

you hummed, tilting your head. “mhm. and you've bee avoiding me all night. i don't like that.”

“i—”

you don't let him finish. instead, you climb onto his lap, straddling him exactly like you had last night—right before geto had joked about getting a room.

he choked on air as your hands slid up his chest, slow and teasing, nails scratching lightly against his skin. just like you did at the party. “you danced on me like you wanted me, choso,” you murmured, lips brushing against his ear. “you even felt how wet i was. you touched my pussy… licked your fingers.” your teeth grazed his earlobe, making him shudder. “so tell me…” your hips rolled against him, pulling a trembling gasp from his throat. “…you don't want me anymore?”

that's all it took for choso to snap. 

one second, he was frozen beneath you, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. the next, he was grabbing you—strong hands gripping your waist as he flipped you onto the bed in one swift, effortless motion.

you barely had time to gasp before his weight was on you, pressing you down, his breath hot against your skin. his tattooed hands—nails painted a deep purple— pinned yours above your head, fingers intertwining with your own, your dark red polish a stark contrast against his.

“fuck—” he growled, voice rough, desperate. his forehead resting against yours, his dark eyes burning with unhinged desire. “do you have any idea how many nights i've spent dreaming about this?”

you shivered. this wasn't the flustered, awkward choso from earlier. no, this was the lapdance choso. 

“choso—”

this time, he was the one not letting you finish. his lips crashed onto yours, hungry, all tongue and teeth, all the pent-up frustration from five years of longing spilling out at once. his hands moved from your wrists to your waist, gripping tight, possessive.

his hips ground against yours, and you moaned into his mouth, back arching at the friction. that was all it took for him to loosen up completely.

his lips started attacking your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks—his marks. his hands tore at your clothes, desperate to feel your skin against his. his mouth trailed lower, teeth scraping against your collarbone, sucking one nipple on the way as his fingers dig into your thighs, spreading them, his breathing ragged.

you whimpered, hips pushing against his, searching for more. and choso didn't even bother undressing himself—his only focus was you.

his hands were rough as he spread your legs wider, slotting himself between them. his breath hot against your inner thighs, and fuck, he was already feral with hunger. his lips drag over your skin, leaving open-mouthed kisses that sent chills up your spine. his fingers resting on your hips as he looked up at you, his dark eyes blown wide with need.

“i've wanted this for years,” he groaned. “thought about this—you—so many fucking times i—” he shook his head like he couldn't explain it, like he was too far gone to form words.

then he did the only thing he's capable of—diving into your core.

his mouth latched onto your clit with a desperation that was insane. his tongue flicked, lapped, sucked, determined to commit your scent to memory by morning. he was messy. sloppy. loud. he slurped, pressing his nose against you as he ate like a man on death row having his last meal.

he moans onto your fat lips, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. choso's eyes roll back at the sweet taste of you. one of his hand traveled up to cup one of your soft breast, squeezing, thumb playing with the hardened nipple.

“fuck—fuck, choso—” he didn't stop. didn't slow down. if anything, your moans only made him more drunk. he buried his face deeper, his free hand holding you open even as you tried to clamp them shut from the intensity of it. his inked arms looked almost sinful against your untouched skin—marked hands spreading and owning the softness of your body. 

"nuh-uh," he grunted, shaking his head. “not happening. you're gonna take it. gonna let me taste you.”

he was dripping. his cock was so hard it was truly painful, leaking through his sweatpants, leaving a wet spot on it, but he didn't care. didn't need anything except your pussy against his tongue, your thighs trembling on his broad shoulders, breathless little whimpers spilling past your lips as you fell apart for him. 

he licked everything. lapped up every drop like he was trying to drink you, tongue sliding through your folds, sucking, moaning, devouring you. 

choso was gone. absolutely, completely, ferally gone. he wasn't just eating you out—he was making a mess out of himself, out of you, out of the sheets. his tongue was everywhere, slurping up your slick, pushing deep into you just to hear the obscene squelching sounds echo through the room, riding you through your orgasm. god, he was so fucking shameless with it, groaning as he makes out with your cunt—as if he wanted to live there.

his face was soaked, his chin dripping, his cheeks wet with your slick. and he just kept going, even after your previous climax. he is obsessed, getting off on nothing but the taste of you. his big hands holding you open, keeping you in place even as your legs shook from the overstimulation.

"up." he groaned, pulling back just to take in the sight of your wrecked pussy, spread and dripping for him. 

you barely registered his voice, your brain still fogged with pleasure. “w-what?”

“up here,” he said again, gripping your thighs, his voice rough, hungry. ���sit on my face.”

your eyes widened. “choso, i—” he glared, pulling you closer. “what? you scared?”

your face burned. “no, i just—what if i—what if i suffocate you?” this was genuine fear. no one had ever requested that from you before—no one had ever wanted you like this, so desperate, so feral.

choso just snorted, flipping you over with ease, positioning you right over his mouth. “sit.”

“choso—ahhh—”

he pulled you onto him, locking his arms tights around your thighs, forcing you to sink down onto his mouth. he lost no time to dive back in. tongue flattened against you, lips sucking hard before he shoved his face deeper, noise brushing your clit with every movement of his tongue fucking you.

“choso—” your thighs squeeze around his head making choso groan. sending vibrations up to your core.

his hips bucked up, his rock-hard cock leaking more pre-cum through his sweats, but he ignored it—ignored his own desperation, his own need, because you were all that mattered. you crying out his name, you feeding him what he'd been craving for years was way more important.

his hands slide up, gripping your hips, his thumbs stroking the soft patch of hair above your cunt. his fingers twirled the strands absentmindedly, tugging, playing—entranced by every inch of you.

he pulls you down harder, deeper as you start to grind against his tongue, getting wetter from his spit and his sheer obsession. and when your thighs twitch and your back arch and your cunt gushed against his tongue—

“so pretty,” he muffled. “so soft, so sweet, i could stay down here forever.” your fingers clawed at the bed head, mind blurring as another orgasm crept up too fast, too hard. there was no escape. no mercy. just the wet sounds of his mouth working you open, inked arms locking you in place, dark nails digging into your skin.

choso latches onto you, drinking every single drop, messy and greedy as he moaned once again.

“mine,” he rasped, tongue flicking, fucking you through the second orgasm even though your body was jerking from overstimulation. “you're fucking mine now. you hear me?”

your mind was fuzzy, lips parting as you tried to catch your breath, but choso wasn't having it. 

his lips were shiny with your slick, his face drenched, his eyes dark and hungry as he kissed his way up your body, pressing sweet, almost gentle kisses against your skin. But the contrast—the way his hands were still gripping you tight,—made you shiver.

“you can take more, right?” he murmured, voice soft, almost sweet as he nuzzled against your cheek. "you're not done, are you? my pretty girl can handle one more, yeah?”

your breath hitched. "choso, I—I don’t think I—” but he did not care. 

one moment, you were still straddling his face, thighs trembling—and the next, you were on the mattress, your legs pushed up, spread wide as he hovered over you. folding you into a mating press—big hands hooking under your knees.

you felt his heavy cock toying with your clit as he freed it from the drenched boxer. the tip already leaking against your overstimulated folds. you weren't even looking at it—the two back-to-back orgasms leaving you drenched—but damn, you could feel how big he was just from just the tip.

you tensed. “choso—”

“shhh, baby,” he whispered, pressing a lingering kiss on your smudged lips. “i'll make it fit. just be good for me, yeah?”

his voice is a mix of gentle sweetness and absolute filth, causing your walls to clench around nothing.

“ohhh, fuck—” you gasped, back arching, nails digging into his shoulders.

“shit,” choso groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “fucking hell, baby, you're so tight—fuck, squeezing me so good—”

your pussy was strugglig to take him, stretching wide, the thick girth of his cock making your mind go blank. he was so big—it felt like he was splitting you open. “c-choso, s'too m-much,” you panted, legs trembling around his waist.

but choso only cooed, kissing your temple, his voice all sweet and reassuring even as he bullied his cock deeper. “you can take it, pretty girl,” he whispered. “you're made for it. look—fuck, taking me so well—”

but suddenly you feel something. 

a cool, hard press against your walls, dragging along your inside. your eyes widened, fingers tightening around his biceps as a sharp jolt of pleasure shot up your spine.

“w-wait, what—”

choso chuckled breathlessly, hips rolling just enough to let the metalic weight of his piercing grind against your sensitive spot. “you feel that?” voice barely above a whisper, thick wtih amusement.

you whimpered, thighs twitching as the sensation made your head spin. the prince Albert piercing was something you hadn't been prepared for—hadn't even know he had—but fuck, the way it dragged inside you, catching against your most sensitive spots, it was…delectable.

tears pricked your eyes, your body overwhelmed.

“mm, s'nice, huh?” he grunted. “been dreaming about how you'd feel wrapped around me like this, all warm ‘n’ wet, taking my cock with my piercing…”

a broken moan slipped past your lips as he rolled his hips again, the cool metal rubbing against your tender, stretched-out walls, adding a whole new layer of pleasure. your nails raked down his tattooed chest, catching on his pierced nipples.

your walls gripping him like vice, your body pulling him in even as you struggled to adjust.

“shit, baby, you're creamin' all over me.” you whimpered, embarrassment flooding through you, but choso just grinned, his hand sliding between your legs, fingers rubbing at your clit.

“nasty little, thing. acting like you can't take it, but your pussy's sucking me in—mhh, goddamn, you're loving it, right?”

you sobbed, head lolling back, body burning hot from his words, from the way he was praising you while talking so dirty.

his hips keeps pushing into you, pushing all the way to the hilt, forcing you to take every inch of his thick cock in one deep thrust. 

“choso—ah!”

“mmh, yeah,” he pulled back just to slam into you again, the sound of his hips smacking against yours echoing in the room. “fuck, baby—so tight—gonna stretch you out realll good, yeah. gonna fuck you open 'n—mhfp”

choso wasn't gentle anymore—fucking roughly, fast. animalistic. he pounds into your poor, overstimulated pussy like he owned it. because he does. his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over and over—

“listen to you,” his eyes rolls back at the obscene sounds of your wet cunt sucking him in. “so—” slams “fucking—” slams “messy—” slams.

hot fat tears make their way down your cheeks, nails dragging down his back, over the swirling ink that covered his shoulders and arms, down to his taut stomach where his happy trail led to thick patch of hair at his base. 

you weren’t even sure what was hotter—the way he fucked or how he looked doing it. his tattoos flexing with every movement, his abs tightening as he drilled into you, the barbells through his nipples gleaming with sweat, the veins in his arms prominent.

“gonna make you my little cumdrunk girl, huh? my pretty little toy to fuck stupid?” he panted, voice thick with lust, his hips drilling into you. “feels good? best you ever had? tell me, baby—tell me no one else ever fucked you like this—” his grip on your waist was bruising, holding you onto place as your body jolted forward because of his brutal thrusts.

your mind was mush. you could barely think, barely breathe. but you knew the answer.

“n-no one—fuck, c-choso, mghn—no o-one everrr—”

“damn right,” he gritted out, snapping his hips harder, deeper, until you were seeing the whole constellation. “no one else gets to have you. no one else gets this pussy but me, got it?”

you nodded desperately, body already on edge, the coil in your stomach ready to snap—

and choso feel it, his hands went to support your thighs, hugging them tightly around his waist. “go on,” he growled, forehead sticking to yours, not slowing his pace. “cum for me, baby—wanna feel your cum all over my cock, please.”

your head rolls back as the knot in your stomach releases, vision blurring from the pleasure, cheeks reddened by your tears. choso still hadn't cum, dick still hard—and if anything, it only grows inside you as he feels your spongy walls spasming around him.

you had never felt something like this before—so high off pleasure, so insatiable, so utterly dizzy with lust that even after he had fucked you into oblivion, you wanted more. 

as you came back to your sense you take a look at the man above you, hair damped with sweat, chest heaving, face still shiny with your slick. cock twitching—and so does his piercing—gleaming with your cum and his own pre-cum.

strength surged back into your limbs—not much, but enough to straddle him. your palms landed on his chest, fingers splaying over his pierced nipples, the cool barbells sitting perfectly against your skin as you pushed him down.

his eyes widened. “are you—”

you smirked, dragging your soaked pussy along his length, feeling his pulse against your swollen folds, the hard curve of his piercing pressing into your clit like a tease of what's to come. 

“what's wrong, baby?” you cooed, tilting your head, feigning innocence. “tired already?”

choso groans, hands flying to your hips, dark painted nails digging into your flesh. “fuck, you're gonna kill me—”

“or milk you dry.” you wink at him, giggling at the way his cock throbbed at your words. you could feel the heat radiating from him, could see the tension in his shoulders as he fought to keep control. “i thought you said i could take more,” you teased, voice sticky-sweet.

the tattooed man cursed under his breath, jaw locked tight as he watched you slide up and down his length, your arousal coating his veiny shaft, dripping down to his balls, his dark coarse hair shinning with slick. “shit, so fuckin' messy—”

you leaned down, licking a slow, wet stripe up his throat, feeling his pulse hammer against your tongue before whispering, “wanna ride you, sweet boy.”

his whole body jerked.

“holy fuck—” and before he could process anything, you reached between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around his cock, tracing a looong vein going from his base to his swollen tip—hot, leaking. the weight of his piercing pressing against your palm.

your thumb brushed over the Prince Albert, curiosity flicking across your face. his tattoos were hot, his nipple piercings were hot…but this? the idea of that thick metal pressing inside you, once again? fuck.

“y-you sure?" choso stammered, his usual cocky drawl cracking into something desperate. i—i'm quiet big, d-don't wanna hurt you.” his flustered concern was endearingly cute, but you knew better.

“i can take it.”

you dropped. in one go. fast.

“FUCK!” 

his head slammed back against the pillows, his mouth falling open as your tight, soaking heat swallowed him whole, the tip piercing pushing past your entrance, forcing your walls to stretch around both his sheer girth and the unrelenting hardness of the metal.

“shit…” you gasped—his cock stopped right before your bellybutton—your pussy was still struggling to accommodate him, the stretch toeing the line between pleasure and overwhelming fullness.

his happy trail and coarse pubes grazed against yours, adding to the overstimulation, his fat tip hitting something that made your toes curl.

choso's painted nails sank into your ass, black and purple contrasting on your unmarked skin, as he took in the sight of you—you're messy hair, fucked-out expression and the obscene bulge pressing out of your belly.

you bit your lip, rolling your hips just right, feeling the delicious burn of his cock pressing on every spot inside you. “feels so good,” you moaned, taking your sweet time to enjoy every inch. after all, it wasn't everyday that you could fuck a pretty hyper fixated emo man. with a big big cock above all that. “so fucking full—”

choso was hanging on by a thread, every muscle in his body taut. his breath shudders as he tries to keep himself together. but the way you were riding him—slow, teasing, your cunt clamping down around him.

“you little tease,” he panted, voice strained. “you're fuckin' enjoyin' this, huh? making me lose my mind—”

you rolled your hips harder, making him grunt. “mmh, you like it, don't you? like watching me fuck myself on your fat cock?”

his palms landed harshly on your cheeks' ass. making you yelp in surprise. “fuckin' filthy—such a nasty girl we have here—”

you moaned, reveling in the way he filled you so perfectly, the way his big hands manhandled you even though you were the one on top.

suddenly you feel his fingers wrap around your throat. your breath hitched.

“my pretty little slut," he rasped, squeezing just enough to make your head swim, to make you even more aware of his piercing dragging inside you with every pulse of his cock.

his hips bucked up—hard, deep, unrelenting. 

“you want to ride? then ride, baby—correctly.”

your moans turned into choked cries, your body jerking as he thrust up into you, driving his cock into your sweet spot over and over and—

“c-choso, p-please—”

“pussy's like magic," watching as your slick splattered onto the sheets and his abs. "sloshing wetness all over me—fuuuck.” his gaze darkened, locked onto your bouncing tits, onto the way his pierced nipples tingled every time you dragged your nails across them. 

“you feel so good. riding me like a pro," choso was on the edge—panting like he'd lose his mind if he didn't cum soon. “th-thought you were scared it wouldn't fit?”

but you were gushing around him, walls spasming, your tight heat milking his cock for everything he had.

“baby, i—god.”

choso’s whole body tensed as his climax crashed through him. 

his hips jerked, his cock throbbing deep inside you as thick, hot ropes of cum spilled into you—so much that it was concerning. 

his head fell back, a deep, wrecked whimper slipping past his lips as he kept coming, his hands gripping your hips tight, forcing you down onto him, making sure you took every drop.

"shit," you breathed, feeling the warmth flood you. your walls still fluttering from the aftershocks of your own release, thighs burning, your clit throbbing from the stimulation. 

"choso, you're still—"

"i know," he gasped, still throbbing, still leaking inside you. "i can’t—fuck, i can’t stop—"

And neither could you.

it continued.

For hours and hours. 

choso had been relentless, folding you in every position imaginable—his stamina something straight out of a mythological tale.

and you finally stumbled out of the bedroom—legs gone. nonexistent.

you might as well have left them in the sheets because they were absolutely not functioning. you had to grip onto choso's arm just to stay upright, and the smug, self-satisfied grin on his face was not helping.

“fucking finally,” geto drawled from the couch, stretching out his arms. “took you two long enough to get a damn room.”

you groaned, burying your burning face into choso's shoulder. geto should be more worried about if you were leaving that room alive.

gojo, sprawled next to him, smirked. “nah, nah… room or not, i definitely still heard everything.” he turned his head towards choso with a shit-eating smile. “didn't know you had it in you, big guy.” 

choso was… shy? embarrassingly shy. he froze, ears burning, his mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something—desperately wanting to find an exist to this discussion.

you blinked up at him. confused. because who's that the same man who whispered the filthiest, most dominant shit into your ear?

he was mumbling, looking everywhere but at you. “i hate you both,” he muttered under his breath. staring aggressively at the floor.

geto chuckled, nudging gojo. “oh, this is gold. he's all quiet now. what happened to all that dirty talk, huh? gone?”

you bit your lip, holding back a laugh. he was so shy. and it was adorable.

“actually,” he blurted out, too quickly. “did you know tigers have the strongest bite force among big cats? but hyenas actually have a stronger one in comparison to their body weight?”

silence.

you blinked. gojo and geto stared.

“what?” gojo squinted. “what the fuck are you talking about?”

“animals,” choso said even faster, shoving his hands into his pockets like he could just disappear into them. “as you know, i watch a lot of documentaries and—”

gojo wheezed. you smiled.

and the, because you were a menace and because this was the cutest thing you'd ever seen in your life, you leaned in—all slow, all teasing—watching as his ears somehow got even redder when you got close.

as if he hadn't just spent hours rearranging your insides. as if he hadn't been the most depraved man known to life.

you let your fingers graze his forearm, voice sickening sweet. “tell me more.”

his eyes flicked to you, wide, surprised. 

but when he saw that you actually wanted to hear him ramble, when he realized you were genuinely interested—his lips parted slightly. his shoulders relaxed.

and softly—hesitantly—he started talking again.

and it was kinda hot!!

(づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡

I hope the anon who requested that is satisfied !! :3

[orange-demons-deactivated2024]

LOVE[ləv]

noun 1. an intense feeling of deep affection doing chores (ft. luke, ed, jamie, bosch)

LUKE

You and Luke sat cross-legged on the living room floor, surrounded by piles of clutter.

This mess slowly accumulated over time, getting worse every time you stopped by or dropped something off. His place was covered with old gym shirts, crushed drink cans, and random training equipment just lying around.

Of course, none of this bothered Luke and without your intervention, this would've continued until he was swallowed whole by the mountain of clothes on his couch.

You decided it was time to finally go through this mess, more for your sanity than his, figuring out what to keep and what to throw away.

Luke leaned back on his hands, giving you a triumphant smile. “This isn’t so bad, right? A little quality time, with just you, me, and a mountain of my stuff.”

You shook your head, amused by his attempt to make light of the situation. “If by ‘quality time’ you mean me reminding you to throw away half of this junk, then sure.”

Luke chuckled, reaching over to grab one of his worn-out gym shirts. “Hey, these shirts have been with me through some pretty tough times. You sure we’re ready to say goodbye to ‘em?”

“Luke, this has more holes than shirt, I think it’s time to let it go.”

He held it up, pretending to inspect the fabric with a serious expression. “You’re probably right,” he sighed loudly before tossing it into the discard pile. “Farewell, old friend.”

You laughed as you went through a stack of random items. “I don’t know how you manage to collect so much stuff. It’s like every time I turn around, something new ends up on the floor.”

“What can I say? I’ve got a lot going on. Training, gaming, more training. Things just… pile up.” Luke shrugged.

“Uh-huh,” you teased, holding up a pair of his old gloves. “Like this? I swear you’ve got five more lying around.”

Luke took the gloves from you, flipping them over in his hands. “Okay, these I’m keeping. The padding hasn't fully worn out of these yet.”

“Fine" You decided to let it slide, "but we’re tossing at least three pairs if I find any more.”

“Deal,” Luke said, though you knew he’d be sneaking one or two into the ‘keep’ pile when you weren’t looking.

As you continued sorting, Luke gave you some sob story about nearly every item you came across, wanting to keep them all. There was an empty water bottle that had somehow wedged itself under the couch, a faded hat he hadn’t worn in years, and a collection of loose change you had no idea where he’d pulled from.

Digging deeper you stumbled upon an old, slightly crumpled photo buried under a stack of gym magazines. Curious, you picked it up and inspected the faded edges, noticing it was a picture of Luke when he was much younger, maybe in his teenage years with shaggy hair and, to your surprise, braces.

“Luke,” you said, holding up the photo. “Is this you…with braces?”

Luke, who had been lazily sorting through another pile of stuff, perked up as he glanced over at the picture. “Oh man, I thought I got rid of all those.”

You grinned, tilting it toward the light to get a better look. “You look so cute with your braces! How old were you here?”

The picture was of a much younger version of your boyfriend, maybe in his early teens, with his messy hair and a wide, toothy grin filled with metal braces. He was standing awkwardly in front of what looked like an army base, looking like a typical goofy teenager.

Luke chuckled, feeling exposed at the old memory, “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I think I was like what, 19? Took me a few years to outgrow it.”

You giggled, holding the picture close to your chest. “I think it’s adorable. You looked like a kid with all that metal in your mouth.”

“Man, but those braces were a nightmare. You wouldn’t believe how many times I got them stuck on things.” He said, shaking his head. "Plus, it was hard for people to take you seriously when your braces gave you a lisp."

Yeah, you could see it, a younger Luke fumbling with his braces while trying to look intimidating, “Well, at least you’ve got the smile to show for it now. So I'd say it was totally worth it.”

“Guess so, but I think I’ll leave the metal mouth days in the past. Too much trauma.” Luke gave you a crooked grin, leaning back on his hands again.

You rolled your eyes, tossing the photo onto the keep pile with a smile. “Drama queen.”

ED

"Hey, If you don’t pick something in the next thirty seconds, I’m leaving you here."

Ed’s voice cut through your train of thought. He leaned heavily against the handle of the shopping cart, your shopping cart to be precise, filled to the brim with everything from fresh fruit to a giant box of sugary cereal that had somehow found its way in despite his usual insistence on “getting only the essentials.”

You stood near the refrigerated aisle, your eyes wandering across rows and rows of eggs stacked in pristine gray and white packaging. This was the last item on your list before you two could finally check out and go home. But of course, you wanted to be difficult.

For the past 15 minutes, he watched as you’d painstakingly switched between two cartons.

Fifteen. Whole. Minutes.

“Regular or cage-free…” you murmured, biting the inside of your cheek.

“They’re eggs,” he groaned, tapping on the cart’s handle with his bare knuckles. “Just grab one, and go.”

“Don't you know the difference between the two?”

“Yeah. One’s cheaper."

The corner of your mouth twitched into a knowing smile as you turned toward him. “Cage-free means the chickens aren’t cooped up in tiny cages all day. They can at least see the sun and stretch their legs. It’s a little more humane.”

“Right. And regular means I don’t have to listen to this debate every time we’re in this aisle.” Ed rolled his eyes, “Just flip a coin or something.”

“I’m just saying, what if the cage-free label is just a marketing tactic and I’m being duped into paying more for the same thing?” you frowned at the nutritional information on the box.

“You’re killin' me here.”

“Okay, Tough guy," You turned your attention to him again, "what do you think we should get? Regular or Cage-free?

"I think we should get out of this aisle before I lose my mind.”

“That's not helpful," you laughed as you inspected the cartons one last time.

"You know," you said after a moment, holding them up for comparison, "I think we should go with cage-free. It’s a little more expensive, but—"

"Great. Let’s do that," Ed snatched the cage-free eggs from your hand and chucked them into the cart.

"Ed! You can’t just throw them in there! What if you cracked them?" You gasped, fishing the carton out to inspect it.

“Doesn’t matter. We’re gonna scramble them anyway.”

“That's not how it works. Cracked eggs mean bacteria, and you can't exactly ‘scramble’ the salmonella away.”

Ed groaned, dragging a hand down his face. This guy was already mentally checked out of this conversation, “Look, I’ve been eating food off sketchy diner plates since I was a kid. I'm pretty sure my stomach can handle a broken egg or two.”

You ignored his grumbling and carefully opened the carton, inspecting each one with care. Only when you were convinced that none of them showed even the slightest crack did you gently place them in the corner of the cart, on top of the soft loaf of bread.

"Okay, now we’re done.” You announced, filled with relief.

“Are you sure?” Ed said sarcastically, “Because I don’t think we’ve debated long enough about the milk yet.”

"Yeah, I think I tortured you enough for today." You patted his back.

"Good," Ed muttered, already pushing the cart toward the checkout lanes before you could change your mind. "Because if you stayed a second longer, I would've thrown myself in the freezer with the frozen pizzas."

You stifled a laugh, imagining him wedged between the stacks of pepperoni and meat lovers pizzas as you walked alongside him. “I’d pay good money to see that.”

“You’re already costing me good money,” he said eyeing the cart, or more specifically, the tiny succulent you’d insisted would ‘bring life’ to your apartment. He gripped the cart’s handle tighter. “Let’s just pay and get out of here.”

As you reached the checkout line, you started to unload the items on the conveyor belt while Ed talked to the cashier. You took them out one by one, inspecting each item for any defects or leekage as you placed them down.

Your hands paused mid-air when you spotted something buried under the bags of frozen vegetables. It was the unmistakable packaging of your favorite chips.

Your heart skipped a beat. You hadn’t mentioned those chips in...What, months? Maybe even longer. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d bought them.

You looked over at Ed, who was too busy punching in his card PIN and muttering something about “highway robbery” to notice your reaction. You knew he didn’t like to deviate from his list—every second spent in the store was a second he’d rather spend anywhere else. Yet here was the one thing you loved, quietly hidden under everything else.

A hidden smile grazed your lips as you gently placed the chips on the conveyor belt. You decided not to mention it. After all, Ed would rather jump into that freezer than admit he’d done something sweet on purpose.

"Hey," he called over his shoulder after signing the receipt, "Next time, we’re getting the cheap eggs, got it?"

You reached for the brown paper bag that held your chips and pressed them protectively against your chest. "Yeah, next time."

JAMIE

Every Sunday, you and Jamie made it a routine to get to the laundromat early, knock out your laundry within a couple of hours, and then go about your day before the rest of the city woke up. It used to be that simple until you started living with a certain peacekeeper whose warm, clingy arms made getting out of bed feel impossible. Sometimes, untangling yourself from him in the morning was a bigger challenge than the laundry itself.

But after cycling through the same stale clothes for far too long, you’d had enough. You were determined to get your chores done today, no matter how much he whined about you coming back to bed. And Jamie was tagging along too, since he’s part of the reason why you were so behind on your chores.

He hated the laundromat, though. And to be fair, it wasn’t the most exciting place to be. The stale smell of detergent, the mechanical churn of washers, and the uneven chairs were all a far cry from his ideal Sunday. Usually, you managed to arrive early enough to avoid the rush, but Jamie had insisted on getting some street food along the way, and now here you were, stuck waiting for a machine to open up in the middle of the morning rush. Great.

You sighed, watching him devour the last of his Jianbing before nudging him with your foot. “This is your fault, you know. We would’ve beaten the crowd if we’d come straight here.”

He grinned, wiping the crumbs off his mouth. “But weren’t those the best egg rolls you’ve ever had?”

“That’s not the point,” You ran a hand over your face in frustration. “The point was I wanted to be here early so we wouldn’t get stuck like this.”

“Look on the bright side, this means there's more time for us to hang out. Annnd we can people-watch.” Jamie shrugged.

You rolled your eyes. “Jamie, you people watch all the time, if anything this is a normal Tuesday.”

“Fine, then how about this?” He fished a coin from his pocket and held it to you. “We’ll play a game while we wait for a machine to open up.”

“And if I win?” you challenged.

He leaned back in his seat, flicking the coin idly. “Anything you want.”

“Anything?” you said, arching a brow.

“Anything,” he echoed, snapping the coin into his palm.

You considered it for a moment, debating if you should really entertain his antics. But then again, sitting here doing nothing wasn’t any better "Alright But if I win, you’re folding all the laundry and putting everything away when we get home."

“You drive a hard bargain. That is, if you win.” He chuckled.

“And if I lose?” 

“Oh, I’ll figure something out,” he teased. “Maybe I’ll have you wear my shirts to bed for a week straight. Or make me breakfast in bed for the next seven days. I’m pretty flexible.”

“You’re ridiculous,” You shook your head, though you couldn't help the tiny smile forming on your face. You rummaged through your plastic cup, pulling a coin out. “Try not to waste all our quarters before a machine even opens up.”

“No promises,” Jamie spun his coin on the chipped tabletop, watching as it whirled and rattled before finally clattering to a stop. You placed yours carefully on its edge and flicked it, smirking in satisfaction when it spun longer than his.

“All right, all right,” he laughed, picking up his quarter. “You win this round. But let’s see if you can do it twice in a row, Mooncake.”

You snorted at the nickname as you grabbed your coin.

“Watch me.” You flicked it again, only for Jamie to 'accidentally' bump your shoulder, making it fall almost instantly.

“Hey! Cheater!” you yelped, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“It was an accident.” He threw his hands up, though the shit-eating grin on his face said otherwise.

Before you could scold him, the ding of a finished washer caught both of your attention. Your heads snapped to the washer, and for a split second, neither of you moved until Jamie bolted from his chair.

“Race you!” he shouted, scooping up his basket of dirty clothes. The coins in his pocket jingled as he dashed ahead.

“Jamie, you get back here!” you called after him, chasing him with your own laundry in tow. A grin stretched across your face despite your annoyance. Laundry days might be a chore, but with Jamie around, they were never boring.

BOSCH

Ever since you and Bosch moved in together, your apartment had become a curious blend of both your personalities. Well, mostly yours. Bosch didn’t buy much outside of the essentials, so while your shelves overflowed with trinkets and sentimental knick-knacks, his remained bare and devoid of life.

It made you sad sometimes, walking into a space that didn’t feel completely lived in. So you did your best to add a touch of warmth wherever you could.

The patio was small, but it was your pride and joy. Overflowing with greenery, it resembled a tiny garden oasis. Tomato and basil plants, which were Bosch’s favorites, were neatly lined along the edges, while your wildflowers spilled chaotically from hanging baskets and colorful pots.

Bosch carried a large watering can, tipping the spot downward to drench the soil around the base of the tomato plants. As he worked, you shuffled toward the other side of the patio with your smaller watering can, sprinkling water with a childlike enthusiasm.

"You know, you could use the bigger can to save time." Bosch said, straightening up and stretching his back before setting his watering can down.

“But this one’s so cute!” you replied, lifting your can and pointing at the little fish decals. “Plus, it’s easier to control.” You wiggled it with pride before crouching down in front of a potted plant near the edge of the patio.

It was a sad sight.

A wilted flower sat in a cracked stone pot. Its leaves drooped sadly, and its once-vibrant petals were now brown and shriveled up. You knelt beside it, setting the watering can down.

“Oh no! What happened to you?” You brushed your fingers over one of the wilted petals.

"That thing’s dead, No point wasting time on it."

You gasped dramatically, turning to him with wide eyes. "How could you say that? This poor little guy is just going through something!"

He crossed his arms and leaned against the railing, "That thing’s been going through something for months, just let it go."

You ignored him, turning your attention back to the flower. You tipped your watering can delicately, letting water drizzle into the dry soil.

"It’s okay, little one," you whispered softly, almost as if the plant could hear you. "You just need some TLC and we’ll get you back to your full, beautiful self."

"You do realize you’re talking to a plant, right?" Bosch raised a brow at you.

"Plants are alive too, you know. Maybe they feel things in their own way." You chuckled, not taking your eyes off the flower. "I think he’s just been lonely out here, I should move him closer to the other flowers."

Bosch crouched beside you to get a better look at it. “You seriously think it’ll come back?”

“I know it will,” You said as you tilted the pot to inspect the roots, “It just needs fresh soil and a little more attention.”

“More attention,” Bosch scoffed, “You already treat these things better than you take care of yourself.”

“Well, then maybe you should treat me better, too.” You gave him a playful nudge.

“I already do,” he nudged you back. “You’re just too high-maintenance.”

“I am not high-maintenance! I just have...an acquired taste for things.”

He smirked, leaning closer. “Acquired, huh? Is that what you call all those fish decals on your watering can?”

You abruptly stood up with the plant in your hands. “Don’t mock the fishies, they bring character. And I got them for sale for 50 cents. So who's the real winner here?”

Bosch chuckled as he pushed himself up. “Fine, do what you want with that thing, but don’t expect me to help out if it starts turning to powder.”

"And if he survives?"

"If it survives I'll pay for our next outing."

"Really?"

"But if it doesn’t, we’re tossing it out."

"Deal," you grinned, placing the wilted plant among the healthier ones. "But don’t be surprised when he’s blooming better than ever in a few weeks."

“You’ve got a lot of confidence for someone whose last plant experiment ended up in the compost bin.” He teased, recalling the incident that happened not even a month ago.

“That was one time, and it wasn’t my fault. The weather was weird that week!”

“Uh-huh.” He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue with you any further. “Whatever you say.” But you saw a hint of a grin on his face as he grabbed his watering can again. He moved to the other side of the patio to water the herbs and vegetable sprouts.

You huffed, as you picked up your can, resuming your morning chores. Though you smiled to yourself knowing full well he’d be there to help you when it came down to it, no matter how much he complained.

[onskepa]

Hello Halo Hello! I am here! As promised, MUWAHAHA!

And I have brought forth a Lo'ak x reader request!

(Be warned this is gonna be lengthy, cause I wanted the request to be clear, I hope you don't mind.)

(Backround for the request):

Instead of Neteyam dying or being the one shot, it was Lo'ak. Eywa had decided to bless Lo'ak a second chance in a way, by sending him to a past version of earth, during a time of trees and modern technology, but still a pretty damn healthy version of earth.

It's there, that as a human he fell in love with a lovely happy go lucky human gal and as years past even got to marry and have children with her, ten children to be exact soon to be eleven. (Jake would be Hella proud. 😏 lol)

The first to be born were the sextuplets! Six at once, eywa was it a miracle, to which he did not faint upon finding out. (He did) and one more two years later, and then twins three years after and then five years after that, their youngest child who would soon no longer be the youngest since the eleventh child was soon on their way.

He was truly filled to the brim with joy, but even at his most happiest, he missed his family dearly.

(The Request):

Lo'ak, after getting shot on that sinking ship, is then blessed by Eywa to have a second chance at life on a past version of earth. Years later Eywa sends him and his family back to Lo'ak's home world and timeline on Pandora in the body of Na'vi's.

His family comes to meet his Now birth family in Awatalu, (I have no idea if I spelled that right! I'm so sorry!) After a bit of a tense soon turned joyous reunion, the families come to meet for the first time and learn about eachother as they interact for the first time.

The children however, have a bit of a difficult time adjusting, but try to for the sake of their dad. Even his wife who is so open minded has a bit of a hard time, but loves seeing her husband so happy.

It's a bit difficult, but they try to adjust to this new adventure and life, cause Lo'ak seems so happy.

[Little extra notes for ya!]

I actually have some ideas for some characteristics on the kids if you wanna hear about em! And or if you have questions of course!

Thanks once again as always for reading my request hun, I hope this was okay! 💕(♡≧ 𓎺 ≦)=ъ ♡💕

okie dokie *cracks my knuckles* Sit down ya'll, this is gonne be a ride. Also, to keep my mind sane, I am cutting down the number of the children from 11 kids to 6.

P.S: This beautiful cover is done by none other than @quirkyhero !!! She has done an amazing job!

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

Brace for imapact

Lo’ak sully was ready to die. After the constant mess he caused, from bringing his siblings to dangerous areas, to bringing his brother in a death trap. Lo’ak was ready to pay his deed by sacrificing himself instead of his older brother. Feeling the bullet hit a vital area on his body, lo’ak felt so much pain. He knew he was shot, and that he was not going to make it. 

So he jumps over the rail of the ship, letting his body go limp as it hits the water. The feel of the cool water surrounding him. His energy quickly draining. As long as neteyam lives, that is all it matters. So, smiling to himself, lo’ak lets Eywa take him in peace. Knowing that he did something good for once. 

“Llo….? ca…….ear….me?” 

There was a voice, it sounded distant yet loud at the same time. A massive headache kept hitting lo’ak. A bright light stinging his eyes, making the headache much worse. Trying to blink, letting his eyes adjust to what is in front of him. 

“W-what….?” he mutters out. Damn, does he feel the need to vomit for some reason. Is this how it feels after dying? Is that Eywa he sees…? Why does she looks so….human? 

“Hello??? Can you hear me??” the sound of fingers snapping next to his ear. Gently slapping his cheek, the person was trying to wake him up. 

“Eywa..?” lo’ak asks out loud. 

“Huh? What is that??” 

Now fully waking up, lo’ak sat up really fast. He looks around, it looks like he is at a beach? He lays on the sand. 

“Hey, you ok? Do you know where you are?” the voice became more clear, feminine. 

Lo’ak turns around and sees it's a human girl. She looked confused yet worried. 

“Hey, you ok in there? Found you washed up on shore, knocked out real cold. Were you surfing or something? The tides are pretty high these days” the girl kept on talking. 

But for lo’ak it was just a buzz. 

He looks down at his hands and legs. His skin is not blue. His stripes are gone. He has dark skin. 

He is human.

The girl didnt know what to make of the strange guy she found at the beach. The second he looked at his hands he began to freak out. Unconsolable and began rambling in a whole different language she has never heard of. She didn't want to call the cops as they might arrest him for probably wrong reasons. So where did she go next? 

Hospital. 

It was better than sending him to a mental one. They would have been worse than the cops. 

So that is where they currently are. The doctors examined him, taking tests, everything. 

“What is your name, young fella?” the doctor asks. 

The strange boy answers. “Lo’ak Te Suli tsyeyk’itan” 

What? 

“That is um….a unique name” the doctor compliments as kindly as he can. 

The strange guy looks nervous, looking down at his hands. 

“You can just call me lo’ak” 

Lo’ak…what a nice name. 

2005 

It has been 5 years since lo’ak arrived on planet Earth. However, as if it wasn't strange enough, he was sent back more than a hundred years in the past. It was less technology, still plenty, but not as much as the humans used in his time. The beauty of earth will always take his breath away. The air was clean, humans were more kind. Dare say, more peaceful. 

The young girl who found him, offered to stay with him until he managed to be independent. Went to the human school, it was…..interesting to say. The teens were beyond different than the na’vi teens, even spider. Trends to follow, pointless gossip, but entertaining. At least there were sports he can partake in like track and archery. Spent good years, made some decent friends. Lo’ak will admit he was somewhat popular because of how “cool” he looked, along with his name. 

Graduation happened, became an adult in the eyes of the humans. A man in the eyes of whom he likes to call his savior. The now young who found him. Sevin, a loving name he would call her. 

“A loving name my dad would say to my mom” he would say time to time when sevin asks what it means. Lo’ak used to talk about a tribe he was part of, his dad marrying a native. Sevin did some hard research, all about native tribes from all over the world, and not one came up with the name “Omatikaya” , a tribe lo’ak says he was born in. 

When nothing came about, in answering how lo’ak came to this world, he stopped mentioning it all together. 

And later on, he and sevin married. 

“Come on everyone! Let's find a good spot!” Lo'ak tells his family as they get out of their family van. 6 little heads all sprawled out from the sliding doors, all chatting at the same time. Sevin trying to tell something to her husband but even her shouts 

It was summer break and lo’ak thought the best way to start off a summer vacation is a beach trip. 

It honestly sounded so easy on paper than in reality. 

Having 6 kids is not so easy. Lo’ak doesn't know what is better or worse, all 6 children being born at the same birth? Or having them be in different ages thus being in different stages of life? Either way, he is thankful for his wife giving him such beautiful yet unique children. 

Every day, he secretly gives his thanks to Eywa. Though she might not be aware. 

“Wait wait! Litx! Moe’seykxel! Both of you stop it! Nifu stay there-wait, d-dad!!! Your children want to eat sand!” the eldest son shouts, ‘awve. He tries to separate his two young siblings from trying to beat each other. 

Lo’ak couldn't help but laugh so loudly. His oldest has become a stricter copy of his older brother. Shaking his head, he helps out. 

“Ay, let them. Sometimes it's ok for your siblings to fight it out” he says. ‘Awve huffs. 

“Besides, you stress too much. We are at the beach, a place to chill and relax. Worrying to death is my job, not yours” lo’ak goes on. 

Suddenly, there was a quick tug from his trunks, looking down he sees the youngest of his sextuplets. Bending down, he lets his daughter whisper in his ear. 

“Moe’ango is crying again,” Nifu says. 

She points over to see moe’ango crying large tears as he stands still, terrified of a little hermit crab. Who is just as terrified as the boy. 

A grin sneaks up to his mouth, yup, this is going to be a long beach day.

“Hubby! Look what I got~” sevin, the love of his life, the jewel in his eye, the light in his darkness, stands before him proudly waving around the ingredients to make smores. 

“Isn't it more for camping…? In the mountains…?” lo’ak asks as he grins as he raises his shoulders. 

His wife drops her smiles and is replaced with a frown. 

“Who said smores are only exclusive to camping? Camp police?” she asks. 

Lo’ak leans back, “yes” he replies sounding so confident. 

His face was then met with the plastic marshmallow bags. 

“Too bad! We are gonna make them, whether you like it or not” his wife says with a playful smirk. Knowing she won't change her mind, lo’ak gets the fire pit started. 

As he and his wife work together, they would glance over at their children, making sure they are safe while having fun. 

Sevin smiles warmly as she looks at her children, “hey, remember when we found out how many there were?” she asks lo’ak. He sighs silently. 

“How can I not? I thought I was dreaming”

“Is she ok?! Is my child ok?!” lo’ak asks in fear towards the doctor. His wife was in labor, it looked very painful which scared him to death. 

The doctor looked at him with a reassuring smile. 

“Yes, they are fine. In fact, you can come see them. They will be very delighted to see you” 

Lo’ak couldn't help but feel slightly suspicious with the tone the doctor said. His wife and child better not be in any form of danger. 

So silently he follows the doctor, leading him to the room his wife currently stays in. The door opens and a handful of nurses leave. All smiling and congratulating him, to which he is thankful about. 

As he enteres, the first thing he sees is his wife. Feeling excited, he quickly goes over to her and gives her the deepest kiss. She happily reciprocates. 

“Our child? Is it a boy or a girl?” he couldn't help but ask. His wife smiles nervously. 

“Yes” was all that was said. Making him feel confused. 

Sevin points across from her, lo’ak following her direction. 

Across the room he saw 6 little beds, and in them were 6 little babies. 

“We have sextuplets babe,” sevin says. 

The doctor smiles happily, “I bet you are feeling very excited, aren't you?” 

THUMP!!! 

Sevin and the doctor look over to see lo’ak passed out flat on his back. 

“Lo’ak?” 

“Remember? You were out the whole time!” sevin says as she and lo’ak laugh together at the funny memory. 

“Sextuplets, I see my kids everyday and I still can't believe it” she goes on, looking out as her kids play in the sand, crafting whatever they want. 

“What can I say? I got a magic d-” 

“Mellow time!” 

Sevin shoved a big marshmallow in lo’ak’s mouth, making him choke in the instant. 

“We are in public!” she scolds. 

Lo’ak chewed the sweet treat, but before he can say anything, he noticed something. Making sevin turn too. 

Nifu was getting a bit too far into the sea for their liking. Quickly they get up as they notice their other children follow suit. 

“Hey hey! What did we say about going too far? Come back!” lo’ak shouts as he and his wife run towards them. 

“But dad! There is something in the water! Something shiny!” hawne says as he points at whatever he is looking at. 

“It looks like a big light bulb!” litx says. 

“Oooooh!! I wanna touch it!” 

All of the 6 siblings go father, making their parents panic. 

“KIDS! STOP!!” sevin screams. Both of them reach the water, desperately trying to reach them. But just as they were about to, some force yanked them down into the water. Not just lo’ak and sevin, but also the 6 children. The entire sully family were yanked down in an instant. Silence was all that was left. 

The soft sounds of the ocean were heard, starting distant at first, but when lo’ak was slowly gaining consciousness, the sounds became louder. Slowly opening his eyes, he finds himself at the beach…? But the beach looked different. Somehow. 

How long was he out-

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!” 

Hearing a high pitched scream, he gets up and looks over to see…

A na’vi child? 

Wait. 

Na’vi? 

NA’VI!!! 

Looking down at his hands, he sees his hands are blue! With stripes! Holding his hair, his braids are back! His kuru and tail! He was ba-

“WHAT IS THIS!? GET OFF GET IT OFF!!! WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE!!” the na’vi child continued to scream. Panicking. 

The other children began to look at themselves and began to freak out. All screaming and crying. The other adult na’vi, who is also freaking out, was screaming. Lo’ak doesn't know what is going on but somehow he is back to pandora. His family with him. 

“Ssshhhhh its ok, its ok, sevin, sevin look at me” lo’ak tries to calm down his wife. She tries to fight back. 

“Dont touch me!! Who are you!?” 

“Sshh, its me! Lo’ak!” 

This stopped sevin for a moment, taking a good look at him. Taking in the details. 

“Lo’ak…? Is that really you?” she whispers….

He takes in the details of his wife too. Having the traits of omatikaya. Her eyes now astonishing golden color, like that of the sunsets. Her stripes beautifully decoration her body. Her hair is now black but the style has remained the same. 

“Yes, yes it's me” lo’ak nods happily. 

“If that is you…then does that mean they are…” sevin looks over at the still panicking children. 

“Yup, we better calm them down” 

“Na’vi….we are na’vi…?” ‘awve asks, still playing with his tail. 

After long hours of exhaustion from crying, lo’ak managed to explain to his family what they are now. It was very hard for them to accept their new looks. Lo’ak can tell a few of his kids still cant believe all of it is real. 

“Na’vi….omatikaya. You are from this world….how did you get to earth?” sevin asks, Her memories playing back to the day she met him. 

“I have no idea” lo’ak answers honestly. 

“So…..what do we do now? Still doesn't help that we are in some island” litx says as she points to the forest behind them. 

Very true. 

“One thing left to do. Explore, see if there is any fruits we can find” lo’ak suggests. 

“Food….what can we eat exactly??” moe’ango asks. Feeling his tummy rumble. 

“Whatever we find, I will tell you if it is edible or not” 

With that, they all huddled close, holding hands as they make their way into the forest. 

It was deathly silent. Getting used to your old body sure is odd. Trying to recall his hunting methods and skills. Lo’ak would refuse to admit but he is clearly rusty. Which is not good, not knowing what kind of animals lurk within the small forest. What is dangerous or not. 

Not only that, he fears they might come across another na’vi. Something he dreadfully does not want to do. 

“Dad, nifu wants to know how much longer?” moe’seykxel asks in a whisper. 

“We can take a break if you want but we have to keep going-” 

They all fell into a pit. It was a trap! 

The kids began to scream. Their sounds alert someone nearby. 

“We caught them!” an unknown voice was heard. 

Illuminating torches were seen, getting closer, and then looking down at the family were na’vi! Lo’ak immediately knew these na’vi. They were of reef. An idea quickly popped in his mind. Perhaps they know of the Metkayina clan! 

Luck was never on lo’aks side. 

The reef na’vi tied him and his wife but not his kids thankfully. But were being watched carefully as they are lead deeper into the forest. 

“We are not dangerous! We dont know where we are!” lo’ak tries to tell the warriors in na’vi. Speaking english for so long, his accent was clear as day. It doesn't make him look good. The warriors might think he is a dreamwalker. 

The warriors ignore him. 

At what seems the end of the forest, more light was seen. And more reef na’vi were also seen. Torches and fire pits illuminating the grounds. 

This is good and bad. 

“Dad! Who are they!?” one of his kids ask. 

“Lo’ak what are they gonna do to us!?” sevin asks loudly. 

“Lo’ak?” 

A voice in the gathering crow was heard. The reef na’vi make way for another na’vi. This one however, was not reef. 

Her skin was dark blue, matching lo’ak and his family. 

“Do I know you…?” lo’ak asks. The girl did seem familiar. 

“Oh my eywa….it is you! Lo’ak! Its me! Tuk!” tuk finally says as she hugs him. 

Tears of joy fall from her eyes. 

Did he hear that right? 

This grown woman, is tuk? His baby sister? 

“YOU’RE A WOMAN!?” 

Word reach to the sully family. Quickly they all ran towards the main gathering area of the village. Tonowari told them that someone claims to be their long dead son. 

Neytiri had to see for herself. Not caring if she isnt as fast as she used to, but she has to see. 

Following was jake and their other children. 

“Its him right? How is he alive??” kiri asks. 

“I dont know, but we have to check this out” jake answers rather fast. 

Seeing the large crowd, the people made a path for them. There in the center was tuk. Who was cooing, coddling, poking, and hugging 6 na’vi children. A femal adult was looking at tuk with wide eyes and extreme confusion. 

“Mom! Dad! Look! Its lo’ak! He came back! I told you didnt I? I told you he would come back” tuk shouts happily, pointing at a forest looking na’vi. 

Jake looked into the young man’s eyes. It was instant. Jake knew, that was indeed lo’ak. His son whom everyone thought, died in the space dragon ship. The son he and his family mourned for years. He is back. 

“Lo’ak…?” neytiri whispers. Tears ready to fall. 

He smiles, “h-hi….ummm….Im home….with my family…” 

Kiri and neteyam look over at the 6 kids tuk was cuddling over. 

“You did not waste any time huh brother?”

Aaaaaaaaand that is it for this one! NGL, it was pretty tricky to write it. Even now I have some doubts in the finished work. However, hopefully you all liked this one! Until next time! See ya!

----------

1: ‘awve = first, ordinal [top left]

2: hawne = soft of an object [top right]

3: litx = blade [sharp] (middle right)

4: moe’seykxel = strong, confident [both emotionally and spiritually] [middle left]

5: moe’ango = soft sound [bottom left]

6: nifnu = silent [bottom right]

[sskzlover]

click

2.) stupid pictures

Y/N shoved the door to Room Two open, already bracing themselves for the worst. They knew exactly who they were working with today, and it had been eating at them all morning.

Seungmin stood near the window, scrolling through his phone. He looked up as they walked in, his expression unreadable at first. Then he smiled—a smug, infuriating smile that Y/N hadn’t missed one bit.

“Well, look who it is,” he said, slipping his phone into his pocket. “You actually showed up.”

“Of course I showed up,” Y/N snapped, walking past him to set their camera bag on the table. “It’s my job.”

“Must’ve been hard,” Seungmin said, leaning against the wall. “You know, taking a deal with someone you can’t stand.”

Y/N shot him a glare. “Horrible.”

“Good to know some things never change,” Seungmin said, his tone light but with an edge.

“Yeah, like your annoying attitude,” Y/N muttered, pulling out their camera and fiddling with the settings. “Can we just get started?”

Seungmin shrugged and pushed off the wall, strolling over to the backdrop. “You’re the boss.”

“Finally, something we agree on,” Y/N said under their breath.

“What was that?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Nothing,” Y/N replied sharply. “Just stand there and try not to make this harder than it has to be.”

Seungmin chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m great at this. You just focus on keeping up.”

Y/N gritted their teeth and raised the camera. “Face forward. Shoulders relaxed.”

“Anything else, Captain?”

“Yeah. Shut up,” Y/N snapped.

Seungmin smirked but followed the instructions.

The first few shots went smoothly enough—at least, until Seungmin opened his mouth again.

“You know,” he said as Y/N adjusted the angle of the lights, “it’s kind of funny seeing you like this. All bossy and professional.”

Y/N rolled their eyes. “I’ve always been professional.”

“Sure,” Seungmin said, crossing his arms. “But it’s still weird. You’re so… serious now. It’s almost boring.”

“Maybe I’m serious because I actually care about my work,” Y/N shot back, aiming the camera at him. “Unlike you, who probably just stands around and lets everyone else do all the work.”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow. “I don’t just stand around.”

“Right. You also talk too much,” Y/N muttered.

Seungmin laughed, leaning forward slightly. “Admit it, you missed me.”

Y/N lowered the camera and stared at him. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, his grin widening. “I mean, it’s been, what, five years? You must’ve thought about me at least once.”

Y/N let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, I thought about how great it was not having to deal with you.”

Seungmin’s grin faltered. “Ouch. That’s harsh, even for you.”

“Don’t act like you’re surprised,” Y/N said, adjusting the camera strap on their shoulder. “You were awful back then.”

“You weren’t exactly a saint either,” Seungmin replied, his voice losing some of its teasing edge.

“At least I didn’t go out of my way to make people’s lives miserable,” Y/N fired back.

“Are you serious right now?” Seungmin said, stepping closer. “You were just as bad as me, if not worse.”

“How was I worse?” Y/N demanded, crossing their arms.

“You always had to be the smartest, the best at everything. You never let anyone have a win,” Seungmin said, his tone sharp.

“That’s rich coming from you,” Y/N said, their voice rising. “You couldn’t handle it when someone didn’t kiss your ass.”

Seungmin’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

“You know what?” Y/N finally said, slinging their camera bag over their shoulder. “I’m not doing this. Find someone else to take your stupid photos.”

Seungmin reached out as they turned to leave. “Y/N, wait—”

“Why?” they snapped, spinning back around. “So you can keep acting like a jerk and pretending like nothing’s changed?”

Seungmin hesitated, his hand dropping to his side. “I didn’t mean—”

“Save it,” Y/N interrupted, their voice trembling with frustration. “I don’t care what you meant.”

They turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind them.

Seungmin stood there in the empty studio, running a hand through his hair and muttering a curse under his breath.

previous |~| masterlist |~| next

note: so sorry for the very long wait. i wonder whats gonna happen next.

taglist: @strrykais, @goldenmellow, @vegetablesarefuntables, @sincerely-sun, @ayyonoona

[lottiesnotebook]

need me some rook!cara & anders content pls.

"your OC’s doctor/healer talking about their injuries"

So the background everyone else will need for this AU is that in my heart, the Lighthouse's Caretaker is in fact Justice keeping an eye on his scapegrace daughter.

Anders & Cara 'Rook' Hawke-Laidir, parenting, fluff

@adainesjacket | @dadrunkwriting

"I cannot believe," Cara grumbles, from the nest of blankets she's been buried in since Treviso- since Minrathous- since she had to make a choice without knowing how much the world would end because of it, "that Varric snitched to my dad that I wasn't getting back to work."

"Varric?" Anders' brow furrows. "No, Justice fetched me as soon as I heard you were injured." He smooths a hand over her forehead like she's a little girl playing sick to get out of school, the cool brush of a dreamer's touch rather than the warm, callused reality of his hands.

He usually let her get away with playing sick, then. She doesn't think Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain will be quite as indulgent. One doesn't get to call in sick from the apocalypse, even with a cracked skull, three broken ribs and frostbite across half her body.

"Justice shouldn't snitch," she pouts, and he gives a forced laugh that does not disguise his worry:

"You sound just like your mother when you say that." His brow furrows as he unwraps her blanket pile to reveal her battered, bruised body that Lace and Bellara between them had manipulated into a night shirt. "Cracked skull, three broken ribs, frostbite… What have you been doing, to end up in this much trouble?"

"Fought a dragon," she says, attempting to sound casual, and failing. "A horrible, Blighted dragon. Probably way worse than the one in the Bone Pit you made up."

"That dragon was very real," Anders says, as he always does - this is one of their oldest games. She will pretend he's made up one of his adventures with her mother, and he'll raise source after source to refute it. "Ask your Aunt Isabela if you still don't believe me."

She blows a raspberry, then winces at the pressure it puts on her aching ribs. "Aunt Isabela would cover for you because it makes her look cooler."

Anders hisses in sympathy, presses down lightly on her ribs. "The same three you broke at Skyhold. I'm having words with that Harding girl-"

"Daddy," she whines, miserably reduced from twenty-one to twelve in a single blow. "You can't blame Lace for this one. She's the one who had to patch me up."

She'd been frantic, too, from what Cara's blurred memories showed her - so pale her freckles had stood out like stars as she tried to form a makeshift brace for her neck from the rubble of Treviso's market.

"And yet," he grumbles, "these things always happen around her. Varric too. Isabela should never have let you run off with both of them, it was asking for trouble." Cool magic flows from his fingers and she sighs in blessed relief as her ribs crack back into place.

"You said it was asking for trouble when I wanted to join the Lords in the first place," Cara pointed out.

"And you caused a diplomatic incident two years in!"

She shrugs, winces, and stops trying to shrug till he's checked her over more thoroughly. "And where do you think I learned that from?"

He sighs. "A point fairly made, which is why I can't ask why I find you in the middle of an apocalypse as soon as you're left unsupervised for five minutes."

"I'm not unsupervised!" she argues, though she realises the slur in her words is not helping. Her father's hands wrap around her skull, and there's a sickening crunch as the plates begin to reform. "I have Varric, and Lace…"

"Cara-hase…" He smooths back her hair from her face. "Look at you. If I could come here in person, I'd bring you home now. Maker knows Justice would if he could, and as for your mother…"

"I know," she sighs, letting her eyes flicker closed despite her desire to bask in the warmth of her father's closeness, even through the flimsy magic of a dream, "but I helped cause this mess, Daddy. I have to be the one to clean it up, don't I?"

Another hissing sigh through his teeth. "You didn't get that from me, did you?"

Her mind drifts back to a day long ago in Skyhold, when she'd learned the truth about their last day in Kirkwall - her mother's flight, her father's disappearance. She could have forgiven him for the Chantry, Varric had said, maybe even the lying, but he asked her to kill him, after the years she spent cleaning up after other people-

"No, Daddy," she murmurs, as sleep pulls her under, and wakefulness pulls him away from her, "You taught me that."

Healer's notes

Attending healer: Anders Laidir

Patient: Cara Hawke-Laidir

Diagnosis: Cracked skull, three broken ribs, multiple contusions, minor frostbite over 70% of the body, major frostbite in lower left leg.

Treatment: Magical healing applied to broken bones and worst contusions. I have left a tincture of embrium and Andraste's tears to be applied twice daily until the frostbite and the rest of the bruising fade. Please see the reverse of this note for the recipe.

Scout Harding, take care of my daughter. She still thinks she's immortal. I never want to find out she isn't.

[zmediaoutlet]

Sam’s not sleeping when Dean pulls off the road. “What,” Sam says, although without a lot of interest. State highway after midnight and exactly no one to see, but Dean coasts down the gravel shoulder to the pitted asphalt-and-dirt road that turns off into—sparse woods, a sign that says NO HUNTING. Sam snorts.

“Gotta take five,” Dean says. Sam nods, arms folded over his chest. Shadow-shapes in the dark, his eyes slanted away at some terrible inward thing. Out of the car there’s moonlight peeking through the tree-tops and Dean left the headlights on, so he doesn’t trip and break his neck on his way to water a patch of weeds. He zips up and then stands there, breathing. Dirt and mulch. Kinda acrid now but not any worse than the woods usually are. Not that different from where they’d buried the vampire kid—god, less than six hours ago. Soft dirt there and they’d made a good grave, burned him right, covered the charred bones. Sam hardly looking at him then, too. Like finishing the hunt hurt as much as sitting around thinking about the other dead kid had.

Dean hasn’t got much in his back pocket, when it comes to making Sam feel better. They’ve been doing this so long they’ve got rhythms they follow and he knows that he’s—tough, sometimes, and he can be a real pain, and Sam always seems to have some way to grip Dean by the wrist and pull him up and be solid as mountain rock for Dean to brace against. He doesn’t have a roadmap for when the rock starts to slide under his feet. He can say some of the dumb crap he’d offer to civilians but Sam’s too smart for it to work; he can offer work, or duty if work itself doesn’t do the trick, but Sam’s never felt the pull of that the same way Dean has, and if Dean’s honest he’d be freaked if Sam really bought it. With how Sam’s been talking Dean’d be willing to throw on Steel Magnolias and give him a foot massage if he thought it’d help, but it wouldn’t, and he doesn’t have much left to offer, to try to make it—not fixed. Fixing it isn’t something he’s been able to do since he was five years old and everything went wrong. But maybe it could be—

He comes back to the car and opens the trunk, instead. Then to the passenger side, where he opens Sam’s door, and Sam looks up at him narrow-eyed but not frowning. Tired. Sad, which makes Dean’s throat do something weird, and he clears it before he says, rougher than he means, “You gotta piss or anything?”

“No,” Sam says, tilting it like Dean’s the weird one. Well, fair enough.

Dean nods. He twists the cap on the bottle he fetched and takes a long burning swallow. Sam shakes his head when Dean holds it out but Dean waggles it at him, and Sam’s not yet so oatmeal-hippie-health conscious that he won’t have a drink with Dean on the wrong side of dawn. His lips pull back like it stings. “Good value for fifteen bucks,” Dean says, and Sam raises his eyebrows, and Dean crouches then in the open door, puts his hand on Sam’s leg. Curling his fingers around the inside of Sam’s knee.

They’ve been doing this so long, they’ve got rhythms. Sam’s chin tips down. “I don’t…” he starts, but he bites his lip and breathes in long and slow through his nose and Dean doesn’t know what he would say, anyway. That it was too fucked up, that he missed all the people they’d lost, that the dark was so heavy it had this velvet choking intensity, so bleak no light could ever get through. Pick a number.

But Dean’s left the headlights on. He pulls, and Sam swivels on the seat so his bootheels crunch in the gravel, and Dean settles down on his knees and reaches up and puts his hand on Sam’s face, and watches Sam close his eyes. His jaw clenching. Stubble thick and sharp and his face as hollow as it was when Jack—when—

Dean unbuckles Sam’s belt. The button, the zip, and once he smacks Sam’s hip he lifts up enough so Dean can yank everything down. He’s soft but so what. Dean’s worked with worse. He spreads his hands over Sam’s bare thighs, hair prickling in the autumn air, licks his mouth wet, and when he takes Sam in it’s—everything familiar, good. Gravel biting into his knees through his jeans. He tongues under the soft ridge of the head, breathes through his nose. The rarity of getting to go down to the base without choking, suckling soft, salt under his tongue and the bitter of a long day and Sam���s fingers sliding through his hair, holding the back of his neck so careful. Like Dean will get hurt, doing this thing he’s been doing as long as his life has been worth anything. Like Dean’s doing Sam a favor, here, when he’s split halfway between wanting Sam to stop thinking and wanting his own brain blank as a snowfield.

A weird strangled breath, above. Dean slurps back and kisses Sam’s hipbone, and drags his shirt up and kisses his belly, hair prickling his lips. “Let me,” he says, asking for—a lot, maybe—and Sam doesn’t say anything but his thumb drags up into the soft hollow at the top of Dean’s spine and his thighs tip wider. Dean presses his forehead to Sam’s stomach. Weirdly grateful, in a way he can’t ever say aloud. This one good thing. Then he pushes Sam to sprawl back across the bench seat, and holds Sam’s hips in his hands, and takes his brother into his throat.

[gennyanydots]

This is love I just can’t live without Ch. 3

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x f!Kazansky!reader (affectionately often called “Baby Ice”)

“This is love I just can’t live without” masterlist

Biker!au

Chapter summary: Your dad has basically no food in the house so to the store you go with your best friend in tow. Of course you run into someone you don’t want to see at the store.

Chapter 3 “Nowhere to go” Baby Ice

Chapter trigger warnings: cheating, panic attacks

You roll over in a sleepy daze and look over at the alarm clock on your nightstand. Noon. You can’t remember the last time you slept this late.

Last night all of your uncles (minus one) stayed until after you went to bed. You could still hear them as you drifted off to sleep. They had told you story after story until you could barely keep your eyes open and then sent you to bed after receiving a hug and forehead kiss from each of them, which may have made you tear up. Just a little. It’d been a long time since you were surrounded by so much love.

Not that they didn’t come and visit, because they did, they all couldn’t just abandon the club in case something happened. So, about once a month you have an uncle sleeping in your spare bedroom. Puts a slight damper on your social life. Puts an even bigger one on your love life. Well, it would, if you had one.

Even five years later, you’re still scared of trying again. How could you after the one person who said they would never hurt you, would rather cut their own leg off than hurt you, did just that? The pain still feels the same, time has done little to numb it. Being back makes it worse.

You hear the front food open and close from down the hall not thinking much of it until you head how fast the footsteps that came in were. Right towards your room. You’d be scared if you didn’t know that exact gait. You had about five seconds to brace yourself. You roll over and curl up the best you can.

5

4

3

2

1

The door to your bedroom flings open and before you know it a body jumps on top of you.

“Oooof! Really Nat?! I just woke up!” You yell as you try and wiggle out of the ball you curled yourself into.

“And you’ve been home for like twelve hours and I hadn’t seen your face yet soooo sucks to suck,” Natasha says as continues to lay on top of you, not moving an inch to let you uncurl your uncomfortable body.

You try and wriggle some more, “Would you get off?!”

Natasha sighs and rolls off then lays down on top of your blankets next to you, “Okay so what’s the plan for the day? We doing anything fun? I want to do something fun.”

You shrugged, “If you count going grocery shopping as fun then we’re about to have a blasty blast. Dad has like no food in the house so to the store we go.”

“That sounds boring,” Natasha whines.

You sit up and stretch your arms above your head. “I’ll push you around in the cart?” you offer.

Natasha sits up next to you, “That sounds better. We better find some fun things there or I’ll be pissed.”

You knock your shoulder against hers, “We’ll find some girly drinks there too so we don’t have to drink beer. Better?”

“Better.”

It didn’t take you too too long to get ready to go to the store, in between catching up with your best friend since you last saw her two months ago.

You both hopped in your car for the short drive to the store.

“You know you have to play lookout, right?” you say and glance at Natasha as you drive.

She nods, “I’m actually insulted that you would think that I wouldn’t be lookout. Actually you know what? I want to be a spy. Can that be my job?”

You laugh, “As long as you keep lookout while being a spy I don’t care what you want your job title to be.”

She grins at you as you pull into the store parking lot.

When she gets out you watch her stand up on the door sill and look around, “Don’t see his bike or the bronco. Coast is clear.”

You laugh watching her hop down and slam the door shut then you get out and meet her at the back of your car. She immediately slides her arm through your elbow so the two of you walk arm in arm into the store.

The two of you stop at the carts and you pull one out which Natasha immediately climbs into. First you hit up the fresh produce knowing that your father probably hasn’t eaten something green in a long while, not since your mother was cooking for him and that stopped at least six months ago when she started to get sick. You piled a couple different fruits and vegetables around Natasha as she made faces at anyone who looked at her funny for sitting in the cart as you pushed her around the store.

“What cereal should we get?” you ask as you push the cart down the cereal aisle.

Natasha looks at all the different options, “Which one has the most sugar? That’s the one I want.”

You roll your eyes and reach for a box of Froot Loops with marshmallows. Can’t get much more surgery than that.

“Kazansky, as I live and breathe,” a voice says from further down the aisle.

“I’m the worst spy,” Natasha whispers at you.

You stay facing the cereal boxes and squeeze your eyes shut. You can feel your heart start to race. It’s suddenly much warmer than it was a second ago. It’s been a long time since you heard his voice. Not since that night.

You sat outside your high school waiting on Bradley. He said he’d pick you up.

The school was having a theater summer camp for kids and you signed up to help with it. Today had been the last day so you had to stay later to help clean up and make sure everything was situated. You didn’t mind at all.

The only problem was your mom dropped you off that morning because Bradley was supposed to pick you up so you two could go to Jake’s house for a party and now Bradley wasn’t answering his phone.

You’ve called him five times in the last 45 minutes. Had something happened to him? You hope he’s okay. You think maybe you should call his mom to check before you get a text from Nat asking you when you’re going over to Jake’s because she doesn’t want to be there without you.

You call her and explain the situation and she sighs. This isn’t the first time Bradley’s forgotten to pick you up. It doesn’t happen often but it still happens.

She tells you she’ll be right there to get you and the two of you can run back to her house and get ready. She’s says you might as well look as hot as possible while you make Bradley feel bad for forgetting you.

True to her word, Nat’s there to get you less than ten minutes later. Still no word from Bradley. You sent him a text to let him know you found a ride. He hasn’t even read it yet.

Every time you look at your phone you can see it on Natasha’s face just how mad she’s getting. She’s mumbled a couple things under her breath as she drove you to her house.

The two of you change into the outfits you had picked out for the night, you had yours in your backpack thankfully. You help each other with makeup then you’re on your way.

Jake’s parents own a cute farmhouse on the outskirts of town. There’s a barn in the backyard which became the party spot all throughout high school. The barn has some old couches strewn about and some speakers that Jake hung up along with some LED lights. It was a perfect spot for parties or hanging out.

When you two arrived at the barn you were handed beers at the door by one friend or another. The party was already in full swing. Music turned up. Lights flashing. Some kids were looking a little wobbly.

“I’m going to see if I can find Bradley,” you say to Nat and she grabbed your hand.

“I’ll help. Two sets of eyes are better than one,” she said and followed after you.

It took you 15 minutes to find him. 15 minutes before your world came crashing down.

You found Bradley. You found him with a girl on either of his legs, sitting on his lap on one of the old couches in the corner under the hayloft. One girl had her hand running up and down Bradley’s chest while the other one was shoving her tongue down his throat.

Your cup of beer crashed to the floor, not that they noticed. They were in their own little world. Clearly Bradley was too busy to pick you up.

You quickly started back towards the door with tears streaking your makeup down your face. You didn’t care. Natasha was right at your heels.

As soon as you exited the barn, a hand grabs for yours, effectively stopping you. It was Jake.

“Where you goin’, darlin? What’s got you upset?” He asks, concern written all over his face.

You just shook your head and pulled your hand back and continued on towards Natasha’s car.

You try to take a few deep breaths to calm yourself as you hear footsteps get closer to you. Two sets. Oh God. Please no. Please please please no. You can’t. You can’t do this today. You should have waited for one of your uncles to come shopping with you. They wouldn’t have let this happen. You can’t breathe. You can’t breathe. You can’t-

-you jump feeling a hand brush your arm and snap around towards it, you open your eyes reluctantly and it’s just Natasha that reached out to you, hand pulled back slightly from when she spooked you.

“Say the word and we leave,” she whispers to you.

You laugh weakly and shake your head, “I can do this, right?”

She nods, “Of course you can.” She gives you a reassuring smile and turns towards where the footsteps stopped, “Bagman. Hey Coyote.”

“Hey,” a voice you don’t know responds back.

You turn apprehensively towards them. He’s not with them. It’s just Jake. And someone named Coyote apparently. Not that you wanted to see Jake either but if you had to choose.

“Jake… you look… good,” you say with a shrug. You don’t really want to stand around exchanging pleasantries with him.

“Well, I am good, Kazansky, I’m very good,” Jake says grinning at you. “In fact, I am too good to be true.” Still full of himself.

“Perfect, then I can pretend you’re not. Okay bye!” you say and grab hold of the cart to start pushing it again.

Jake jogs in front of the cart and puts his hands on the front of it to stop it, “What’s the rush, Baby Ice? Haven’t seen you in so long. We gotta catch up.”

Natasha scoffs and kicks at his hands, “Haven’t seen her for good reason, asshole. Coyote come move your friend before I end him.” She kicks at Jake’s hands one more time making sure to land her heel on the back of his hand.

Jake yanks both his hands away and shakes them out swearing under his breath. He scowls at her as he stalks back to his friend, “Well, Kazansky …Nat, it’s been lovely seeing the both of you. I’m sure we’ll see each other again real soon.”

You give the two men a final glance before you start pushing the cart down the aisle away from them.

“Oh and don’t worry I’ll let Bradley know you say hi,” Jake calls to you, then snickers.

You freeze immediately. Your breath starts to speed up and you worry your bottom lip. You glance at Natasha and she’s already glaring at the figure behind you.

“Good going asshole!” Natasha yells and hops out of the cart before grabbing your arm and pulling you all the way outside to your car. She helps you into the passenger seat and goes around to the driver side and starts the car. The whole ride home you can hear her muttering under her breath as you pick at the strings on the ripped pair of jean shorts you’re wearing.

When you get to your house you practically sprint inside to your room and throw yourself on your bed. Safe.

A couple minutes later Nat comes walking into your room and makes you scoot over and lays next to you, “I’m sorry I didn’t see him sooner.”

You give her a weak smile, “It’s not your fault. It wouldn’t have done much good. You would have seen him maybe two seconds before he opened his big mouth.”

“Yeah, but two seconds is still two seconds. We could have faked an emergency,” Nat says. “Clearly I should have gotten a call from the President of the United States asking me to join a secret spy agency and we have to rush to get on a plane.”

You laugh. Nat has always been able to pull you up from whatever dark hole you find yourself in. When you left town, she was right there with you all summer until she had to come back home for school. You are forever grateful for her. The best friend you’ve always been able to count on.

You and Nat fall into a comfortable silence before you could hear the rumble of a bike engine outside. You both wait a few minutes until you don’t hear the bike turn off. A knock comes from the front door and you both sit up and look at each other. You then hear the bike drive away.

“I’ll go see,” Nat says while getting off your bed. You hear her walk to the door and open it. Then she calls your name.

You head towards her and see a couple grocery bags on the front step.

“Where’d those come from?” You ask.

Nat shrugs then hands you a folded piece of paper with your name on it. You unfold it:

“I’m truly sorry for how Hangman acted at the store. I should have stopped him. Please know I would have never let him talk to you if I had known it would upset you. It won’t happen again.

- Javy (Coyote)”

You look up at Natasha, “Wait a minute. THAT was Javy?!”

[whumpyreader]

Part Five: Ro's Pain

TW: painful wound cleaning, reference to past rape, reference to past torture, non-sexual nudity

Some time passed before Louie came back. When he did return, his shirt was back on and his face showed no signs of his crying. He eyed her from across the fire for a moment then piled some more wood onto the fire and waited until it lit up to a comfortable blaze. He pulled a pot from his bag and wandered to the edge of the forest, returning with a pot full of snow. He set it over the fire and turned to her.

“I am…sorry for…my behavior. Um…if you trust me, I need to check your wounds.”

She had wounds no one could know about.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” His voice was quiet and he watched her with sorrow in his eyes.

She sat up straighter, resolved to not show any more signs of weakness. She reminded herself again that she could leave at any time. 

“I wish there was another option unless you know of an option I’m not thinking of.”

The blood had clotted so she was no longer in danger of bleeding out. She knew the risk of not cleaning off the grime from the prison. But there were injuries she had vowed to keep to herself. “I…” How could she explain?

“I’ve been in that prison before. I know the torture they use.” His eyes wandered to the distance and pink rose to his cheeks. “I was tossed out of the prison after three years,” he said, squatting down to her level with enough room between them that she didn’t flinch. “I laid in the streets for days, rotting away. By the time someone helped, the infections across my body were almost too much to survive. Cleaning your wounds is scary, I know. But if I don’t help you, you’re going to get sicker.” At her silence, he added, “If you want, you can do most of it. I’ll only help if you need help.”

He seemed gentle enough but, against her knowing, words slipped off her tongue. “It would be so much easier if I was helping you.” It was easier to trust another female. Men, more often in her experience than not, were brutal and self-indulgent. Maybe it was why females hid their pain and dealt with the woes of caregiving.

“It doesn’t have to be that way in this moment,” he soothed. “I give you my word that you can trust me. Please let me help you.”

“If you go against your word, you should know I am under no illusion to suffer through your wishes. I will kill you or worse.”

“As it should be,” he said resolutely, so unlike his behavior before. “You have my pocket knife. Slash a hole in me if I go against my word.” His brow rose as if in question.

“I do not need your pocket knife to kill you.” The moment she spoke the words she realized it sounded like a threat. But Ro did not mean it as that. “Tell me, first, what made you cry.”

Humiliation dropped his head and he sighed. “I…” He let the air out through his nose. “I cannot stop it sometimes. I’ve never been brave I suppose. Certain words make the fear in me so great that I suppose I lose my mind.”

“Have you always been this way?”

He raised his head and furrowed his brow. “I did not always know this fear. But, even as a child, I was weak.”

“Weak?”

“Uh…” His lips tightened and he took a breath. “I liked animals. I would cry if they got hurt. Weak.” He gave a small shrug.

“I’m ready.” She braced herself as he closed the distance between them. 

He went behind her and warm, gentle hands unclasped the furs. “Are you ready if I help take these off?”

She nodded and the cold tickled her skin as the fur was taken off of her top half. If blood stuck, he used water to coax it free.

“We’ll start with that,” he said, once the top was put to the side. “Are you okay?”

She nodded.

“Just some warm water. I’m going to cleanse the wounds then I’ll put the fur back on.”

The top half of her pulsed like a giant, infected wound. Though painful, it wasn’t what she was most worried about. Once the fur was back on, he moved to her front.

“I’m going to need to clean the other wounds.”

“What if I don’t have any more wounds?”

He sucked in a breath, thinking. “I’ll believe you.” More quietly, he added, “I was raped almost daily in that prison.”

Her head shot up to find anything she could in his face that told her he was wrong. His hands trembled against his thighs and he kept his face turned to the side, giving her time. “It won’t stop bleeding,” she muttered, lowering her head before he could see her face.

His eyes on the bloodstain told her he had noticed. “I can’t promise speed but I will do my best to get us to your homeland as fast as I can.”

His attempt at giving her the choice of privacy warmed her. Something inside her relaxed knowing he was aware of that option. “Will you be able to stop the pain?” Out of all the pain, this surely was the worst.

“I can lessen it.” His mouth hardened, realizing what she was saying. “Here.” He took her hand gripping the knife and moved it closer to him. “Keep it there.”

“Why?”

“So you will feel more safe. Tell me when you are ready.”

As she took steadying breaths, Louie stood and placed his bag behind her for something to lean against. When he knelt in front of her, she was ready. She gave him a nod and then bit her cheek as he worked the fur off of her legs.

It was cold, colder than her torso had felt in the cold. It was an enormous ask of trust as he set the fur to the side and looked up at her. She knew she had to move her legs up so he could assess the damage. It was impossible and the cold against her flesh seemed to tell her “Caution, you’re too vulnerable.” The knife shook in her hand and she swore, at any moment, he could lunge at her. 

Instead, the cold disappeared and a warmth covered her like a warm towel after a bath. She gasped, looking up at him. His eyes were still looking at her eyes, assessing her comfort but he was shaking more as he held himself up. “Okay?” he asked, his voice breaking.

“Please make it quick.” She couldn’t watch as he helped move her legs up then checked her. He tsked in empathy then cleansed the tears she knew were there.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

She flung her eyes open and he knelt, further away now, picking the fur up off the ground. 

“I have a dry cloth we can use to stop the bleeding as best we can. Let’s get you dressed.”

His warm hand wrapped around her ankle, and he maneuvered the pants up her calf before doing the same to her other ankle. 

“Can you stand? With my help?”

He pulled her up, against his body and pulled her pants back up. 

“Here…the cloth.” He handed the folded cloth to her. “Can you do it on your own?”

She turned her back to him, using him as a crutch, and placed the cloth where it would hopefully staunch the most bleeding. Then she lowered herself to the ground and wrapped her arms around her legs to be as small as possible.

He did the same on the opposite side of the fire. “Are you alright?”

Her voice could not work quite yet. The experience had left her voiceless and shaky, but she longed for him to talk and take away the silence that threatened to end her.

“You deserved none of that.”

She lowered her brow at him, challenging the authority he had to say that.

“I just speak with personal experience. I understand discipline but I will never – never – understand the punishment they dish out in that prison.” He leaned his head back, using his arms wound around his knees as an anchor and exhaled. “I am weaker than you by far. I was completely gutted after my release. I couldn’t stand for a month.”

She wanted him to say more and when he looked at her again, his face tweaked in surprise.

“It’s not a very good story,” he admitted. “But, if it helps, I can keep sharing…if that is what you are asking.”

She nodded then lowered her chin to her knees.

“I was in my last week of being twenty when I was released. To this day I am not sure if my sentence had been three years at the start or if someone got me out. I was told nothing. I laid outside the prison’s walls, too sick to lift a hand. I could beg to no one to spare my life. I assumed they all thought I was truly a criminal and was earning what I deserved. I was so delirious when I was picked up that I thought it was my mother rescuing me. Er…she had died so I figured I had died too. Anyway…it was not much of a rescue. A farmer and her husband needed a farm hand and I suppose it was cheaper to nurse me back to life than to pay for a worker. I worked off that debt for ten years.” He snorted. “The generosity of some people, right?”

Ro chuckled. “What a life you have lived.”

But rather than respond to her comment, Louie beamed. “How are you feeling?”

“Alright…physically. I am relieved to know I am not picked on by the universe. Hearing your woes has done me good.”

“At least my woes are good for something. You had better get some rest before dawn. We’ll have to leave first thing.”

[hurlumerlu]

I find it quite simple

a little Not Me fic about Gumpa and Black (sort of) bonding over being older siblings :

It was an evening like many others. Yok and Gram had already left, Sean with one of them, or both of them, or off to one of Namo’s haunts, leaving Gumpa to clean the table like a dissatisfied housewife. Except this time, Black was still here.

"These fuckers, I swear," he said, contemplating the wasteland of dirty plates and empty bottles, unlit cigarette already firmly in mouth. "This is how you can tell they’re all only children."

Gumpa almost pointed out that Black generally didn’t stick around to help either, but decided against it : the kid talking about anything else than their next move was a rare enough occurrence. Better not nip it in the bud.

"I don’t know about that," he mused instead. "My younger brother has three siblings and I don’t think he’s picked up after himself even once in his life."

"That’s what elder siblings are for."

"Ha ! Good thing my sisters didn’t see it that way. I would have gone mad, always taking care of a four-people mess all by myself."

"Aren’t you taking care of a five-people mess right now ?"

"You’re helping me, aren’t you ?"

Black snorted. They’d brought the dishes to the courtyard and set out to clean them. "So, you’re the eldest of four ?"

"Two sisters, one brother. You ?"

"Eldest too, by an hour. He took his sweet time."

"A twin ?"

"You think ?"

"Okay, smartass." He flicked water at him. Black rolled his eyes, but said nothing. The heat of the day had lessened, and the night air was companionably warm – the silence too.

It remained that way until they were back inside, cigarette smoked, dishes stored, table wiped, and Gumpa took two beers from the fridge.

"About what we do," asked Black. "Do your siblings know ?"

Gumpa opened his bottle and swallowed a mouthfull. It gave him some time. "No. No one does. A few years ago, my sister – the oldest – was arrested for helping women get illegal abortions." He tensed despite himself, bracing for the usual comments and questions, but Black didn’t talk. He just kept looking at him with the aggressive focus typically reserved for their plans. "As you can guess, this was a pretty hard time for the family. Harder for her, of course, she’s not done building herself back up, but – if I can save my parents some worries over another child… I have to try, at least."

"But you didn’t tel your sister either. The oldest, I mean."

"Nah." He couldn’t help but smile.  "She’d try to help."

To his surprise, Black was smiling too, and raised his beer in an I’ll-drink-to-that gesture. It seemed as good a time as any to pry.

"And your brother, does he know ?"

The smile vanished like it’d never been there.

"We were separated," Black said, after a long enough moment that Gumpa had wondered if the conversation was over. "When our parents divorced.  Father took one, Mom the other. I tried to write, but I assume they intercepted my letters – don’t ask me why, I won’t answer. And don’t tell me that’s fucked up because I already know."

What was there to reply to that ? Gumpa took another beer and held it out. Black nodded curtly.

"I don’t want him anywhere near all that anyway. He’s not like me, he’s..." He gave a vague handwave, leaving it for Gumpa to figure out. Softer. Fragile. Better, maybe, as in worth more. "It’s ugly here, and it’s only gonna get worse."

There they were.

"Things getting worse, is that why you didn’t leave tonight ?"

"Nothing gets past you."

"Come on, Black."

"My roommate, my – the guy I’m crashing at, I told you about him."

"Todd."

"Hmm. He’s more crooked than I believed, I think. Or exactly as much, but I’m only facing it now."

"Black..."

"I don’t need comfort. I don’t need your input at all. I’ll deal with him if I have to, and that’s the end of it. Understood ?"

"Normally I’d tell you off for bossing me around under my roof, but you get a pass this time. Understood, I won’t meddle."

"Thanks."

"Don’t make me regret it."

"Oh, piss off."

The impulse came, unexpected : to ruffle the younger man’s hair, give him an embarassing hug. He didn’t indulge. They weren’t brothers.

"Gumpa ?"

"Yes ?"

"Can I stay here tonight ? I’ll sleep on the couch, and I’ll be gone first thing in the morning."

You can stay as long as you need, he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure it would be well received.

"Sean might not even come back tonight. You could sleep in his bed."

"I’d rather gouge my eyes out," replied Black quite genially, and they went back to their drink.

"I met your brother the other day."

Black, of course, doesn’t answer.

"Kid just showed up at your uni, all dressed like you and ready to poke his nose into everything. He’s in over his head, and scared shitless, but he holds on for your sake. You should be proud."

Gumpa sighs. He can’t stay long – it was a bad idea, coming here, but he had to.

"I don’t know who told him about you. And I don’t know how to convince him to trust us. But I’ll look after him, you have my word. I’m trying to make him stay at the garage. Let’s hope he’s less of a loner than you."

He rises. There is nothing more to say, nothing more to do. No point in ruminating his failures. He still looks back before he lets the curtain drop.

"If he does take me up on the offer," he says. "I’ll make him room with Sean. With any luck, that’ll piss you off enough fo you to wake up."

[shingekinomyfeelings]

Okay, so. It's actually kind of funny that this post came across my dash this afternoon because I was kind of already thinking about this shit. I guess I should say tw: parental abuse? I'm keeping it as vague as I usually do, but if the concept is unduly upsetting, probably don't read this.

SOMETIMES it takes the buzz of physical exhaustion to make me look at my emotional/psychological exhaustion more objectively, and the last few weeks have definitely been emotionally exhausting. Even the prospect of finally moving out in spring (with the help from some friends who I finally agreed to let help me) is anxiety inducing in an almost paralytic way. There's so much to accomplish and so much that has to fall into place for it to work, and I don't want to invest too heavily in the certainty that I'll be able to do it, because then if I can't, I'll just feel worse than if I retain a bit of healthy pessimism. I know that sounds extremely fucking stupid. But I'm also excited about what can happen if it DOES work out.

A few months back, I was talking with a friend about my father trying to help one of his employees who was trapped in an abusive relationship. My friend expressed aggravation at the employee's erratic decisions, and her insistence on being 'fair' to her abuser. I said I didn't really feel too mad at her about it, because she was in such a fucked up mental state - and had been for many months - that she couldn't look at her own trauma objectively. It's pretty common, and as much as I hate to admit it, I fall into that trap a lot too.

It's not a secret that I don't like myself much. The degree to which I dislike myself might fluctuate depending on the current situation, but honestly, there's never really been a time that there was an absence of dislike.

And sometimes, I can look at it objectively and see it's no mystery why that is. Of course there have been other factors, but the brunt of it has always been my family, and even now that one of my brothers has functionally disowned me since five years ago, and my father's anger issues have been sanded down by stress, being in this house means it's impossible to escape the constant conditioning from my mother.

And sometimes I can say, of course I'm kind of fucked up, of course I always feel like most people kind of want to slap me, of course I'm always braced for a fight/flight/freeze/fawn response.

She's told me outright enough times that I'm her problem, her source of all contention, the person she's built a fucked up mental image of as just bad - selfish, mean, lazy, a liar, always out to spite her, always up to some nebulous badness -- she doesn't even need to say it anymore for it to be implicit in the way she slams her fists on anything in arm's reach, stomps her feet, slaps her face so loudly you can hear it from across the room, and lumps dramatically against the wall when I speak or ask her a question at least once on a daily basis, the way her voice when she addresses me is nearly always the kind of voice most people reserve for someone who's been trailing behind them being annoying for days on end.

It's been that way for most of my life, and with the social isolation in recent years, the vast bulk of my in-person human interactions are... that. There have only been a few years out of 38 during which I was far away from here. When have I really had the freedom not to feel like this?

And it might feel like it's my life's normal, but it's really fucking not normal. And sometimes I'm very aware of that.

The thing I can never shake though is that every time a friend stops being a friend, or when I think about the people who truly don't like being around me or dealing with me, it always feels like a confirmation that every awful thing she sees in me really is there.

I really want to find out if that goes away once I'm far away from her for good. I hope you guys will keep your fingers crossed for me, or sacrifice a virgin to the Job in a Different City gods, and that by this time next year, I'll be a little closer to hating myself a lot less.

[odder-oddish]

Final October Bingo - Trick or Treat

One last submission. It's still October for me, so it counts for the challenge, at least in my mind.

Summary:

It's Halloween, and not even a silly little fight can get Ace's spirits down. He's exactly where he wants to be.

Nothing but fluff for the final work, based off a silly little idea I had and wanted to make a short fic off of. And for this one, I've decided to include it under the cut, as well as adding the link to the AO3!

Thanks to everyone for sharing their talents this month and @dweetwise for putting the event together. I hope everyone had a great Halloween!

Ace genuinely thinks this might be it for his relationship. Five years in The Fog with Felix, three of those officially together, then two chaotic years since, adjusting to their normal lives, and Felix making the move from Germany to the United States. They've had their ups and downs, disagreements and rough nights like any other couple, but this? This is just unforgivable.

"I can't believe you!" he says, trying to stay calm as he braces both his hands on the kitchen chair, trying not to let his emotions get out of hand. "Like, this is just sick."

Felix stands across the table, arms crossed. He looks equally intense, not willing to back down either. "Ace, you're completely overreacting. It's my decision, not yours. This isn't your problem."

"Look, I get it, it's your choice, but there are just some things that I won't stand for!" he fires back with a huff. "You know, I thought between the two of us, you were the one with good taste."

"And maybe I am. Have you ever considered that maybe, I'm the one who's actually right?"

Ace laughs at that, a cold, emotionless laugh. "About this? No, that's messed up, Felix." He pauses, swaying back and forth on his feet. "I want a divorce."

"We're not even married!"

"And whose fault is that?"

"Are you guys okay?" Jeff's inquisitive tone interrupts their argument, but not for long.

"No, Jeff. Things are terrible. See, Felix here thinks that that-" he gestures wildly at the table. "Is an appropriate Halloween snack."

Jeff follows his pointing hand to the table. Sitting in the center of the kitchen is the culprit of the argument… a half empty bag of candy corn. "So are you two actually fighting?" he asks. Felix responds by shaking his head while Ace responds with an empathic "Yes!"

"You're the one who bought them for me," Felix says, but his tone is much lighter now.

Ace's words still have the same bite to them, but the dramatic flair with which he throws his hands in the air gives away his light-hearted tone. "Because you asked why they were called candy corn, so I showed you how to stack them, not so you'd actually eat them!"

They're interrupted again, this time by two steps of footsteps coming in from the kitchen. It's Elodie with Jonah in tow. "Are you guys still going at it?" he asks, reaching over the table and popping a couple pieces of of candy corn into his mouth. Ace grasps his chest in mock anger as he does.

"Nah, candy corn rocks," Jonah says confidently, and Jeff nods in agreement. Ace scowls at them. He can't believe it. Are all of his friends just… insane now? Did the Entity affect some of them worse than expected?

"What the hell are you talking about? That stuff's disgusting. It's just sugar and food dye," Elodie argues back, and Ace breathes out a sigh of relief. At least one of his friends still has some common sense.

"I don't think this compares to any of the dozens of other weird things you've made me try since I moved here," Felix says.

"Like what?"

"Like at the state fair this summer. You didn't have a problem eating deep fried butter or… or a hamburger with a doughnut for a bun, but candy corn is where you draw the line?"

"Okay, you know what-"

"Felix, wanna go get the fire pit started with me now?" Jonah asks, interrupting Ace and gesturing to the front door.

Ace watches his boyfriend walk out the front of the house before turning back to the kitchen. "I'll get drinks," he says to no one in particular. He opens the fridge, finding the hard ciders that he'd bought when he last went to the store, the same trip where he'd made the mistake of buying Felix candy corn.

Ace is in the process of sliding the drinks into can covers when Jeff comes in to the room to grab the massive bowls of candy that have been waiting for tonight.

"You and Felix aren't actually fighting, right?" Jeff asks, sounding most amused, but slightly concerned.

"Nah, we're all good, just foolin' around," Ace says with an easy smile. "And even if we were, if candy corn is the biggest problem we're having, I'm happy."

Jeff shares in his smile, leaning against the kitchen counter. "I'm glad. I'm happy for all of us, getting out of there, but what the two of you have is special. Real special."

"Yeah, I know."

Ace's slight smile lingers as he finishes getting the drinks out, then he and Jeff join the other three outside. Their driveway has been transformed into a cozy setup. Lawn chairs surround a small fire pit, with carved pumpkins and fake cobwebs adding to the scenery. The five of them decided to do Halloween together this year, preferring each other's company to sitting inside alone and waiting for kids to hand out candy to come by. Last year, Felix and Ace hadn't celebrated Halloween, still too caught up in trying to adjust to the real world after years in the Entity's realm.

Ace considers everyone he lived with in that time family, but the five of them here tonight, they're just a little bit closer. After their escape, they got in contact. Felix had already planned on moving to the States and Elodie, feeling lonely after their escape, followed soon after. They'd settled near where Jonah already was, and Jeff's career as an artist allowed him to live just about anywhere. They'd been ecstatic when he joined them from Canada, their small little circle from the Fog finally complete.

Half an hour before it truly gets dark, the youngest of trick-or-treaters set out, their parents nearby. From toddlers in animal costumes being carried by their parents to younger kids dressed like the different super heroes or witches or other classic costumes, there's a more relaxed vibe to the early evening air.

But as Ace puts candy into the basket of the sixth Disney princess of the night (at least he thinks) he realizes something. Just how many of these costumes he doesn't recognize. It hits him by surprise, the realization on just how much time he's missed out on in this world. Not that he'd paid attention to children's movies, but there are already so many costumes he doesn't quite understand that he would have had his life stayed intact.

It's a feeling that was extremely hard to get over when Ace first returned. He'd been gone for nine years. It wasn't just movies, but sports, politics, music that he'd been behind on. Hell, Ac had missed a damn pandemic, apparently. It had been a strange sort of culture shock, returning to his own home after being so long. Hell, he'd had to learn what a smart fridge is, and was hopelessly behind on technology. It's gotten easier since then, but some things just keep reminding him.

"You alright?" Felix asks from the chair next to him, a warm hand covering Ace's wrist. And suddenly, Ace is much better.

"Yeah, I'm great. Just thinking, we ought to have a movie marathon this weekend, watch a bunch of the stuff we missed while we were…" he stumbles over his words. "Gone."

In a moment, Felix understands. His smile twitches at the corner, growing sympathetic. He squeezes Ace's wrist, saying, "Thinking about what we missed again?" Ace nods, feeling a little numb to it all, but Felix doesn't let go of him. "I know it hurts, sometimes. Try to take it easy on yourself."

"Easier said than done," Ace mutters.

Felix pauses. They've talked about this almost.a hundred times; there's no point in doing it again. Not now. So Felix just smiles and says, "A movie night sounds great."

It takes time, but Ace manages to shake out of his melancholy. It's Halloween, after all, they ought to focus on something else.

Like the absolutely ridiculous, inflatable dinosaur costumes headed their way. Beside them, Jonah barks out a laugh as three people, older kids, from the looks of it, waddle up to get candy. The rest of them share in his laughter as one of them turns around a little too quickly, the costumes tail completely knocking over the bowl of candy on Elodie's lap. The kid is super apologetic, but Elodie waves her off, clutching her sides, laughing, as the kid tries to awkwardly reach down and help scoop up the fallen chocolate bars.

"Don't worry about it," Elodie assures her. "I'll grab them."

The rest of the night goes more easily. As the moon comes out, older kids start to take to the streets. Jeff plays a game with them, throwing pieces of candy into their baskets from long-distance. He starts by throwing them to the sidewalk, then out in the street, then even further. People are happy and laughing.

It's a side of Jeff, really of all of them that Ace never thought he'd see. While they'd always talked about leaving together, spending late nights talking about the first foods they'd have back in the real world, the vacations they'd go on, it had always felt like wishful thinking. Ace had assumed he'd spend the rest of his life… or until he went insane in Trials, in the Fog. But now, now he gets to watch Jeff throw treats at teenagers and argue about candy with Felix. All the mundane stuff he'd never thought he'd care about before the Entity took them. But now, he realizes just how much he needed.

"I'm going to go get another drink," Felix says, holding up his empty can. "Do you want one?"

"I'm good," Ace says, managing to only blush a little when Felix kisses him on the temple before leaving to go inside.

Jeff watches him, with a small smile on his face. "I'm glad to see you happy," he says simply. And Ace appreciates it. Before Felix had arrived in the Entity's realm, Jeff had been the one Ace was drawn to the most. They were the ones who kept each other sane, confided in each other.

Ace looks at the ground for a moment. Thinks about the ring box that's been hidden at the bottom of his sock drawer for a month now, waiting for the right time. "You know, between you and me," he says. "getting taken by the Entity in the first place, I think it was worth it."

Jeff nods, not looking the least bit surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah. If I had to choose between the life I had before, and the one I've got now, after going through all that again, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

Jeff doesn't answer, and he doesn't need to, sharing in Ace's happiness. Ace's smile turns into a dramatic scowl, however, when Felix returns, a new drink in one hand, and the half-full bag of candy corn in the other.

"I take back any nice thing I've said about you. Ever," Ace says dramatically as Felix sits back down, popping the colorful pieces into his mouth. Felix responds extraordinarily maturely, sticking out his tongue at Ace.

They share a laugh, and Felix's hand is back on his wrist. Ace looks down at where they're touching, and wonders what it would look like, seeing a ring on his finger. Soon, he tells himself.

The trick-or-treaters slowly disperse, and eventually, Jonah puts out the fire, and their friends say goodbye. But there's no rush for him or Felix to get up, just continuing to enjoy each other's company. "You know, I wouldn't mind a few more dozen Halloweens, just like this," Ace says, finally breaking the silence.

Felix looks back at him with an easy smile that Ace has only seen since they escaped. He hopes he gets to see it for the rest of his life.

"I'm looking forward to it."

[gaybd1]

Yes, hello, hi! I would love to see any of the dialogue you want to share from your Love Lives in Injuries and Those Who Know Them.

Sure! For context this was supposed to kind of tie together this post about Sokka and disability and these posts (and a ton more like it) about the issues and trauma he's always dealt with and how he would be after the war. We see a lot (including from me) about Sokka helping Zuko through some stuff after the war, but it's time to flip the tables

So this was meant to be Sokka learning how to be vulnerable and accept help from others and we would have seen some cute scenes of Zuko taking care of him on his bad days, like using his firebending to heat Sokka's leg, omg

That's the vision I had from the title, which by the way comes from this post I saw the other day by @zukkaart

anyway im rambling again. i didnt get to a LOT of the cute stuff before this got too long and out of hand and begged to be abandoned but here are three of my favorite dialogue scenes I'd written

between sokka and katara:

“Sokka, why didn’t you tell me sooner?” “Can you honestly tell me if you would have been able to fix it?” “...Maybe not. I’m sorry…” “Don’t be sorry.” “I’m still mad at you for not involving me in this for almost a decade. You’re very lucky you weren’t nearby when I first got Zuko’s letter.” “I know, but–” “Sokka, what have we been working on? We’re both adults. You don’t need to protect me anymore. The war is over. You can ask for help. Zuko was right there for you this whole time and–” “Old habits die hard, I guess…” “Sokka–” “How are the kids?” “...They’re fine... Kya’s coming along really well with her bending. Does that hurt?” “Always.” “Has the brace been helping at all?” “I thought the new one I made would help more, and I know it is helping but I still…” “And your other knee and hips?” “Yeah, it’s definitely starting to spread.” “Well, not spreading technically, but the way you’ve learned to walk around the injury is starting to permanently affect your other joints…” “Uh huh. So what happens now?” “I’m gonna give it to you straight. If you keep on working as hard as you do, that’s all going to get worse. I’m surprised you aren’t feeling it more in your back yet.” “Spirits, I’m so tired of–” “Listen first, okay? I’m sorry you’re dealing with this. I think we both know how lucky you are after falling from that airship. I’m glad it’s taken this long for it to catch up to you.” “But?” “But… It’s only going to keep getting worse– Let me finish! You need to hear this. You need to make some changes. If you keep training as hard as you are and pushing yourself so much, it’s going to get worse faster.” “You can’t ask me to stop training, Katara. You know how much it means to me. I need to–” “Sokka. I know how you feel. But you don’t need to work so hard to protect us anymore, okay? Zuko can take care of himself, and he has Suki and all of his guards. Aang and I have been on our own for years now. The war is over. Let us take care of you for a change.” “You know I can’t–” “I’m not asking you to just sit around the palace. You just need to change up your schedule and routine, can you do that for me? Healer Sano can help organize some new exercises for you.” “Fine. I get it.” “You need to start taking more advantage of your downtime. Sit when you can. Stay inside and rest at least one day a week. I should recommend more, but I know you…” “I get it, Katara. I do. Thank you.” “There’s one more thing. You’re not going to like it.” “...What.” “You need to start using a cane.” “...” “Sokka?” “Katara. I’m not even thirty-five years old.” “I know, and like I said, it’s amazing you’ve made it so long without needing it. There’s no shame in–” “I’m too young to need that.” “Sokka. We both know you can barely walk across the palace anymore without needing to sit down. This will help you.” “I can’t– I don’t want–” “Sokka. Look at me. This has been coming for a long time and I know you’ve been ignoring it, but it’s time to accept that there are just some things you can’t do anymore and that you need help to do the things you still can.” “I–” “It’s important to have these feelings. Don’t feel bad for them. You need to work through the anger and shame and whatever else you’re feeling. You can talk to me or you can talk to Zuko, and I know it’s hard for you to talk through anything, but it’s important that you do talk to someone so you can work past this. Don’t bottle it up again.”

and after between sokka and zuko

“How did it go with Katara?” “Didn’t she tell you?” “Only a little. How are you feeling?” “Fine.” “Should I ask you again?” “I’m… okay.” “Can I ask why you aren’t using the cane?” “I… have complicated feelings about it.” “Can I help you try to work through them?” “I… okay.” “So do you think it would help your overall pain?” “Yeah.” “And do you think it could help keep the rest of your complications at bay a little bit longer?” “I guess so, yeah.” “But you still feel… weird about it?” “Mm-hmm.” “Okay. Do you think people will… judge you for using a cane?” “No, not at all. It’s… not about how I would be perceived. I don’t think.” “But…?” “I… I don’t know. I feel like I’m giving in. Like I’m admitting to myself that I have this weakness.” “Hm.” “The logical part of my brain knows that’s not true, that it’s not a weakness, that actually the cane would help the weakness, but it still feels like I’m giving up!” “...” “I can’t explain it. I feel like I’m finally being forced to acknowledge that there are things I can’t do anymore and that terrifies me.” “Why?” “I… I need to…” “...” “I need to be able to protect you.” “Babe… I understand that this would be hard for you with everything you’ve been working through since the war. I respect that and I wish you could be dealing with anything else right now. But you know you don’t need to protect me, right?” “If there were another assassination attempt and I couldn’t get to you–” “Baby, there hasn’t been an assassination attempt in years. You saved my life countless times and I’m grateful, but we’re in a time of peace now and you’ll never need to do that again. Besides, there are dozens of guards around at all times.” “I know…” “And more importantly. If there were another attempt and you weren’t able to get to me in time because of your injury, would it be the cane’s fault?” “No! And that’s what I hate! That my own body has betrayed me to the point that I’m not even able to do what I’ve always been good at.” “Sokka. The war is over. I know this whole ordeal has brought back a lot of that stuff for you, but it’s been over for a long time.” “Yeah.” “And you’re good at a lot of things that aren’t affected at all. Does your leg have anything to do with your ability to work on any of your inventions?” “You’re right.” “I’m here for you, babe. Agni knows you’ve been here for me more times than I can count. I know you’re going to be angry about this and I know it’s something you’re going to have to keep adjusting to, but I’m here to go through it all with you.” “I love you so much.” “I’m here for your good days and your bad days. Don’t be afraid to ask me for anything. If I need to cancel a meeting to sit in bed with you, I’ll do it. If you’re too tired to walk back from dinner, I’ll carry you. Anything. There’s no shame in letting others take care of you. You’re safe here.” “I believe you. Thank you”

and later, because it's just so visceral...

“Babe, why is your cane in the turtle duck pond?” “Oh, is that where it ended up?” “Sokka. What’s going on?” “...Having a bad day.” “Yeah, I gathered.” “It’s so beautiful out. And the first thought I had when I woke up was that I wanted to take you for a picnic up the volcano.” “But you weren’t feeling up to it.” “I hate this shit sometimes.” “I know, babe. It really gets to you at times like this. But we can still have a picnic closer to home. The gardens are fine.” “Yeah, okay.”

[recentadultburnout]

get to know me ask game

Tagged by @telomeke , @magpie24601 thanks!

RULES: bold the ones that are true & tag 10 people to do it.

APPEARANCE

blonde hair // I prefer loose clothing to tight clothing // I have one or more piercings // I have at least one tattoo // I have dyed or highlighted my hair // I have gotten plastic surgery // I have or had braces // I sunburn easily // I have freckles // I paint my nails // I typically wear makeup // I don’t often smile // I am pleased with how I look // I prefer Nike to Adidas // I wear baseball hats backwards

I don't dislike tight clothes, but loose clothes will always win.

Four ear piercings. One on the left, three on the right.

I discovered my love for nail polish around five years ago, along with my love for glitter.

It's more that I don't pay much attention to how i look. I can look better or worse, and it won't really affect any aspect of my life, so it's not important.

HOBBIES & TALENTS

I play a sport // I can play an instrument // I am artistic // I know more than one language // I have won a trophy in some sort of competition // I can cook or bake without a recipe // I know how to swim // I enjoy writing // I can do origami // I prefer movies to tv shows // I can execute a perfect somersault // I enjoy singing // I could survive in the wild on my own // I have read a new book series this year // I enjoy spending time with friends // I travel during work or school breaks // I can do a handstand

Only two, Thai, my mother tongue, and English. 

I can swim, sure. Not very well, tho. I still remember my PE teacher being, "How can you be this slow?" at an extracurricular event. 

I enjoyed writing those posts about the Thai language and culture a lot more than I expected. I also started writing a fanfic recently, and it feels kind of good. Tbh, going into this, I thought I would be able to enjoy the result but not much the process. But the process is okay too. It's a pleasant surprise, considering that I was a kid who submitted less than 500 words for a 1000-word assignment. 

I can do origami, and I like doing it. I stopped now because it piled up, and since it's made of paper, Idk what I can do with it except just store it in a box. 

I started a new book series. I may or may not finish it by year's end. 

I enjoy spending time with friends. Of course!

RELATIONSHIP

I am in a relationship // I have been single for over a year // I have a crush // I have a best friend who I’ve known for ten years // my parents are together// I have dated my best friend // I am adopted // my crush has confessed to me // I have a long distance relationship // I am an only child // I give advice to my friends // I have made an online friend // I met up with someone I have met online

I have been single all my life, actually. Not even a single crush. Probably an aro.

Most of my friends are people I've known for more than ten years. I don't know how to make new friends😅

I'm not sure, actually. Maybe? At what point are people considered friends by others?

AESTHETICS

I have heard the ocean in a conch shell // I have watched the sun rise // I enjoy rainy days // I have slept under the stars // I meditate outside // the sound of chirping calms me // I enjoy the smell of the beach // I know what snow tastes like // I listen to music to fall asleep // I enjoy thunderstorms // I enjoy cloud watching // I have attended a bonfire // I pay close attention to colors // I find mystery in the ocean // I enjoy hiking on nature paths // autumn is my favorite season

I enjoy all that except bonfires. I have attended bonfires, sure, but it was against my will lol

MISCELLANEOUS

I can fall asleep in a moving vehicle // I am the mom friend // I live by a certain quote // I like the smell of sharpies // I am involved in extracurricular activities // I enjoy Mexican food // I can drive a stick shift // I believe in true love // I make up scenarios to fall asleep // I sing in the shower // I wish I lived in a video game // I have a canopy above my bed // I am multiracial // I am a redhead // I own at least 3 dogs

If I don't sleep in a car, chances are I will get car sickness. 

Mexican food is great! It's my favorite way to eat uncooked vegetables. 

If not by making up scenarios, how do you fall asleep? 

I mean, technically? But also not really? I am multiracial in the same way that I believe that if a person is born in a place that is not isolated, then that person must be somewhat mixed. My mom counted back and said she knew for a fact that our family had at least five different ethnicities, but that was quite far back? The closest one is from my grandparents on my dad's side.

Tagging : @shouldiusemyname, @akkrosu, @rocketturtle4, @troubled-mind, @scarefox, @lurkingteapot, @williamrikers, @blmpff, @dimplesandfierceeyes, @airenyah

as I write two posts at the same time, I tag the same people in both posts lol. Everyone, please feel free to ignore one or both.

[omgkalyppso]

🐬Tell us the name of your/ one of your WIP(s)

&

🖍Post Any sentence from your wip!!!

Thank you for the ask!

🐬 I have a wip called "brothers" which is about Cal, Lia and Rolan bg3 and Cal and Lia each having romantic interests which causes Rolan stress.

🖍 Take the whole of the blocked dialogue between Cal and Rolan for the first third of this fic. Have I posted this before? Oh well.

Cal: [interrupts Rolan reading with a broom, a mug of water, a comb and some scissors] Guess what time of year it is! [bi-annual hair cut] Rolan: Cal. Cal: Come on, Rolan. All these important people you’ve been meeting? You could at least look presentable. It won’t take but a minute. Rolan: All right. That’s hardly necessary. Cal: What kind of brother would I be if I didn’t check your sideburns when cutting your hair? Rolan: A normal one. Cal: How do you still have no gray? Rolan: A miracle, I know. Is Lia’s much worse? Cal: Just enough to shine at the moment. She’ll look a decade older than you in another five years or so, though. I have a few now. S’not so bad. Rolan: No, you’ll both look very distinguished, I’m sure. Cal: Rolan? Rolan: Mm? Cal: Would it bother you if I stayed out some nights? Rolan: What do you mean? Cal: There isn’t really any privacy here. There’s a girl. Rolan: You? A girl? Cal: I like all kinds. Rolan: That’s not what I— Cal. Have I met her? Cal: You can’t vet her, yet. You don’t know her. Frankly, I’m surprised you know anyone, cooped up in the tower as often as you are. Rolan: Hence your need for privacy. What did Lia say? Cal: I haven’t told her. She’s even more protective than you are, you know that. Rolan: Would she like her? Your girl? Cal: I hope so. She’s bubbly and sweet. Rolan: No, you’re describing champagne. Tell me about her like a person, Cal. Cal: Her sister, married, works a forge. She runs their shop. They sell scissors, and cutlery and the like. Pens. Fillings for High Town dentistry. She’s a little waifish. Bad lungs. Leg brace. She won’t be able to work the forge if her sister passes. They’re thinking of taking on an apprentice or child minder. At the moment her brother-in-law minds the kids.

Rolan: How many? Cal: Two. [slow, obviously still surprised himself; bc i hc him and lia as twins] Twins. [pause] The kids look human. Their father is. The sisters are tieflings. Rolan: [a pause] They’re lucky. [i also like the hc that rolan was born among humans and had a few years to find a lack of sympathy for tieflings like himself] Cal: They’re children. They’d be lucky in their circumstances either way. They seem like a very loving family. Rolan: What’s her name? Cal: Her virtue name is Joy. Rolan: Appropriate. You know a lot about her. Cal: We’ve been meeting up every day this past week for lunch. And every few days for the past month before that. Rolan: A month? Have we been here so long already? Cal: Bit more. Rolan: What does she know of me? Cal: Only good things. [pause] Mostly good things. Rolan: [both snickering] One good thing. [pause] You’d spend a night with her and all that family? Cal: No. I was … I was thinking I’d get us a room in Rivington. Rolan: Rivington?! Cal: Cheaper than the Elfsong, and I want to take her somewhere nice for dinner, do her hair first, stay up late after. Rolan: That sounds like a lot of walking for your waifish darling. Cal: And what do you suggest? Rolan: Well, first, I think we should close off some levels of the tower. You’re right about it lacking privacy. And second, it’s impossible Lia’s going to object to you wooing this girl. I’ll figure it out, but I’m serious when I say Elfsong or better. Especially for something like this. Your whole heart’s in this, Cal. Cal: Rolan— [hair cut paused] Rolan: Cal. Cal: Rolan, I want you to save that money. And … I don’t know whether closing some of the tower would be worth it. Rolan: What’s that supposed to mean?

Cal: Business is high. The cataloguing’s almost done. Soon you’ll be hired for wards and enchantments and be making big sales with Brooms of Flying and all sorts of wonders. You’ll be consulted on research. Rolan: I know you think you’re being complimentary but you’re digging a very big hole at the moment. What’s your point? Cal: You’ll be able to hire menial hands to do the work I’ve been doing for you. I don’t have a lot to contribute here. [hair cut resumes] Rolan: Cal— Cal: I was going to start looking at apprenticeships. Preferably in coiffure, but maybe the forge … if there’s nothing else, I mean. Kanon and I had been talking about tailoring, but … you know how things go. I want my own space. I want to forget about blades and spells. [possibly hair cut finished] I’m not like you and Lia. Rolan: You’re right. You’re not. [an embrace] But you will always be my brother. And you’re here now. So. Woo your maiden, and I’ll start budgeting. Cal: Forgive me? Rolan: There’s nothing to forgive. Cal: [pulling away] You’re the best.

[rowingupstream]

I have a new job. The hourly pay rate is half what I had before. I only work about 22 hours a week instead of 40-60. It's embarrassing to talk to old coworkers and say "yeah, I have a college degree and some fancy certificates and a decade of experiance in a very complex field but I'm working a job requiring zero training or experiance alongside a bunch of high schoolers on summer break."

But. I can do it! It's simple and mindless but I feel like I'm good at it! I'm doing things right! I'm helping customers effectively! It's such a great feeling. I

t's been almost a decade since I didn't constantly feel like a total failure making mistakes left and right and inconveniencing everyone with my slowness at work. And because I stayed in that higher paying job as long as I could even while miserable and sick, I have some leeway financially and can make this job work for a little while, so that is a win, I guess?

It is so nice. I don't have words for how nice it is to not be failing at stuff all day long and having everyone treat me as lazy and obnoxious. I had planned for this job to be just a short term break while I try to get my various diseases under better control before going back to my old career, but I dunno. Maybe it is time to stop trying to have a career. Just give up. What a waste of all that training. And financially it'll be a hit but. I dunno.

You know that whole "you are not supposed to be exhausted and in a lot of pain all day every day at work" meme? The one that ends something like "You have a chronic illness. Make the accommodations for yourself that you would for a coworker with the flu, or hay fever, or a swollen ankle." Yeah. That. I've been thinking about it a lot.

People have been telling me I am more than qualified to be on disability for the last four or five years. But I have a bunch of relatives who are all about how disability is just a scam for lazy people and even though I feel very strongly that they are wrong and I argue with them about it constantly, I feel like they would cut off all contact with me if I did go on disability. Or at least disapprove strongly and vocally. And I just can't deal with that yet. I'm not braced for it yet. I'm not ready to lose two thirds of my extended family. On the other hand, the knowledge that I'm just going to get worse and worse as I age so I WILL eventually be on disability has already created a distance between us. I'm so uncomfortable never talking about my health when it makes up so much of my life that I'm avoiding them most of the time.

But yeah, I'm super happy doing this job for now. I'll have to figure out exactly where I'm at money-wise and decide if it's worth eventually going back to my old career and being miserable and in pain for a few more years, but right now I am really really happy with my current employment.