#you know those magnetic fishing games

[asouwan]

🎣 Day 4 - Fishing

[tinythebunni]

rafe had his eyes on you for a while. you were new to the island and everyone wanted to be by you. you seemed to have this energy that attracted everyone, like a fucking magnet.

rafe couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw you. you were everything he could want in a girl. tall, slim, curvy, shiny skin, beautiful hair, and most of all you were so feminine. he loved a girl he could take care of, provide for even.

he first saw you at the country club. you were clad in skimpy pink bikini with white polka dots, a white bow in the side of your hair, and white flats on. you read some magazine he couldn’t be bothered to even pay attention to. for right now, you were his main object of his attention. you could feel his eyes on you, you usually did.

you’d been here only two weeks and you knew all about the infamous rafe cameron. there were rumors he killed some cop and he had a drug problem.

people said he was one of the most fun people in the world but he would blow up in the quarter of a second. no girl could hold him down and he always got what he wanted. everyone wanted to be him or fuck him.

he’d made slight advances in the short amount of time you’ve been in the outer banks. holding a door open for you, paying for your drink, offering to apply your sunscreen while you tanned at the beach, the whole shabang.

you didn’t give him the slightest ounce of your attention. you wanted him to work for it. obviously you wanted him but you can’t let him know that! if rafe always got what he wanted then he wouldn’t mind a challenge.

you liked this game of cat and mouse you guys played. you didn’t know how much longer you could take it though. your friend daphne had invited you to some kook party at her stupid chad bfs house.

you went of course because rafe would be there. and you wanted him to see you, especially in this outfit. a lacy pink halter neck and pink mini skirt with ties on the sides. it showed just enough of skin to make him crazy. you wanted him to know what he was missing out on.

who knows? maybe tonight you’ll let him have a taste.

after a while of being at the party you started to get a bit bored. there were people making out in the corners, the alcohol tasted shit, and rafe still wasn’t here.

you were slightly buzzed and contemplating walking out when you saw him. he wore only a white wife beater and some denim jeans. what really caught your attention was the way his eyes were immediately on you when he came in.

he looked you over, greeting a few people, but not once did his eyes stray off you.

“top, i gotta go handle something. i’ll catch ya later.” and with that he strides over to you, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you into a room upstairs.

you had butterflies in your stomach. after a month he couldn’t take it anymore. you were excited to see what he would do now.

he swiftly locked the door and turned towards you with an almost primal look in his eyes. you giggle as he rubs the back of his neck and glares.

“do you think this shit is fuckin funny? been wanting you for months and you think it’s game. do you know how hard you make me? those skimpy fucking skirts and that coy smile.“

you were positive you looked like a fish out of water right now. you could feel a heat rising in your belly and a blush flushing your checks and neck.

“i didn’t know i affected you that much” you whispered.

“bullshit. i see you close your thighs each time i fucking look at you. can barely focus on anything when you’re near by.”

rafe is stalking towards you now, and you back up more and more until your knees finally hit the bed. he pushes you back until your lying on your back, with only your elbows and forearms holding you up.

he pulls your skirt over your tummy, glancing up at you as he places a kiss on your thigh.

“tell me this is okay. i needa know what you taste like. i can’t fucking stand it. so close to your pussy i can practically feel you on my tongue already.”

you give a shaky nod but that’s not enough.

he pinches the inside of your thigh and shakes his head with disapproval.

“no. baby i need words. use your voice, ain’t even touched you yet so i know you’re not fucked out already.”

“yes, yes rafe this is okay! please i need it” you whine while your lips pout slightly.

he was being so mean right now! is this what it felt like for him all this time?

he places a kiss on your clit over your panties and thumbs at your entrance. he smoothes your arousal over your lips and curses under his breath.

rafe takes his time making you whimper and whine. you push your hips up for some kind of friction, something more than he’s giving you. he uses his left hand to hold you down while his right pushes down on your clit, the pressure making your eyes roll back.

“calm down sweet thing. s’okay. m jus getting you ready. been dreaming bout this and i wanna take my time”

the cameron boy takes off your underwear and pauses. you can’t tell if he’s in awe or disgusted.

“so fucking pretty baby. is this all for me?” he questions as if he doesn’t already know the answer.

“rafe of course it is, do you see anybody else in this fucking room?” you’re mad now, you’re so fucking horny and he’s being a tease!

“alright alright” he laughs, placing a kiss to your thigh and looking up at you one last time.

“not letting you go after this is done. you’re mine.”

[ih8simps]

My first post EVER;

The Runaway (Chrollo x reader)

The sound of the deep bass assaulted your ear drums as the lights around you flashed.

The room was filled with the smell of sweat and alcohol as the people around you continued to bump against one another. Your eyes swiveled around the room as you watched the sea of people all dancing to their own rhythms.

The music made you feel the need to continue dancing and the alcohol dancing around your bloodstream made you never want to stop. You continued to dance even when a red haired stranger came into your view. The moment his golden eyes locked onto yours, you knew he was trouble. From the bold red of his hair to the points on the tips of his shoes, you knew this guy was something peculiar. But by all means, you liked peculiar. As if drawn together by magnets you both met in the middle of the dance floor. You didn’t give him a chance to speak as you began to press your body against his. That smirk on his face grew into a Cheshire grin as you both danced to the music.

After a few songs you were still pressed against him and by now you could feel that he was certainly excited for you to be so close.

“Do I get to know your name now?” He spoke with his lips practically against your ear.

“You’re a pretty decent dancer. I’m having fun with you”. You turned away from him and rubbed your ass against his hard length. From what could be felt through your clothes, that would certainly be a sight to see. Your body hummed in delight at the thought. If only time and circumstance had been different.

In the rafters above the dancing bodies, the spiders were spinning a web. Phinks, Feitan, Pakunoda, Shalnark, Machi, Shizuku, Nobunaga, and their leader Chrollo were stationed in the upper level of the club watching those below. The spider was here for a job. There were some big fish that owned some shiny things that Chrollo wanted to steal. The owner of this club was a prolific businessman who was heavily into trade. He had a safe somewhere on this premises full of rare treasures. He used this club as a way to gather fellow traders and rare collectors without raising too much suspicion. To the authorities this just happened to be the place where rich traders and businessmen found themselves on Friday nights.

“Damn it. I wish I was a better dancer” Phinks practically whined.

“You are bad” Feitan spoke in his slow drawl. Phinks opened his mouth to yell out a retort but before he could Machi cut in.

“How you dance doesn’t matter. We aren’t here for dancing. We are scouting this place”

The spiders all had their eyes on a different target. They all knew who exactly they were supposed to be keeping their eyes on at all times but watching old men try to drunkenly dance or slobber on women was such boring work. It seemed that Shalnark had become bored quite a while ago as he was playing a game on his phone. Feitan flanked Phinks against the railing that looked over the crowd. Pakunoda sat on the sofa sipping a glass of vodka. Machi stood close to Chrollo as he stood with his back to the railing. Nobunaga begrudgingly stood close to Shizuku as she leaned over the railing to get a closer look at the crowd.

“I don’t know. Maybe Phinks is right. We should all learn how to dance. I mean look at Hisoka.”

The eyes of the spider searched the crowd for the eccentric red head. When they finally caught a glimpse of him, a hush fell over the group. Shizuku couldn’t understand the sudden silence.

“What’s wrong?”

“Is that-“ Phinks could hardly believe what he was seeing.

“(Y/n)” Machi whispered.

With the music still blaring, the lights still flashing absurdly, and the warm body of the man behind you still rubbing against you, you were in a form of chaotic bliss. For a brief moment you felt truly free. That feeling came to a screeching halt when a heavy coldness swept over you. It felt like a cloak of heavy darkness and filthy disgust. It seemed that the man behind you could feel it too as he suddenly stopped dancing. His eyes immediately swept the room before he looked up and directly at the source of the awful feeling. Your blood ran cold as you realized what you were looking at. The minute your eyes locked with his steel cold gaze, you realized you knew this feeling all too well. This was Chrollo’s bloodlust.

It had been years since you had seen him. Even from this far away you could tell that even in this sea of still dancing people he was looking directly at you. The intensity in his eyes made you believe he could probably see through you.

“No” you choked out.

The man behind you grabbed your arm, seemingly making the room grow even colder.

“How do you know each other?” You shook your head in response. Shock wouldn’t allow words to fall from your lips.

“How-“ the man opened his mouth to speak again but before he could you watched as the spider suddenly began its ascent down to the dance floor. One moment they were 40 feet away, the next moment you could feel them near inches away from you.

“(Y/n)” Feitan was the first to speak from his short distance away. “Why are you here?”

You ignored him as you began to count backwards from 10.

“What is she saying?” Shizuku could not understand what she was hearing.

“Grab her before she gets to-“

“One” you choked out. Just as you were about to disappear from the room you felt a brief pressure on the back of your neck. Before you lost consciousness you peered into a pair of familiar grey eyes.

“Chrollo” you whispered.

[scribble-dribble-writes]

I don't know what this is. Just a bit of a ramble haha

Namor - Midnight tides

Dark skies, you stood by the shore, your feet wet my the waves that wanted to lead you home. But without the moon to carve out his shape and the howling wind drowning out the sound of his wings, you didn't know how to find him. The pain of wanting led you to walk longer, aimlessly like a woman in search of her sanity because you craved his touch. To feel important, to feel needed. His words held calm reassurance and you desired it now.

I will find you when the stars come out to play when the moon has gone home to stay.

So you held on, like an white ghoul that traced the horizon of heaven and earth. And as the tide rose, there he was, emerging out of the sea with a fervent thirst, one that could only be quenched by you. His black marble eyes took you in, while all you could do was stay rooted, feeling like the land beneath you would eat you whole, but his arm wrapped around you, drenching you in salt water too. Making the fine fabric stick to your curves like revealing enough to entice.

He tilted your chin almost as if he wanted to say that you were too brave to walk into this. Too brave to choose him. Your heart beat giving away the truth behind the effect he had on you, as you leaned closer, always wanting more. The edge of his lip tilted up, almost as if he was proud, because he knew he could satisfy you. With gold and treasures, but mostly with his love.

There was no question over how he felt because he showed it. His liquid eyes drooling over the sight of you, his ancient arms pining you to the wall of the cove and his ocean lips kissing you wherever he pleased like the water running over you. The moment he lets you go, you're a magnet to his frame. Clinging onto him, running your fingers into his hair, your chest placed right on his to have his heart beat reverb through you. Your dress now just another skin as it gives way, moving like fish fins in the shallow pool, there was no doubt, you belonged to the sea just as he did.

No hindrances, no passing ships, just his low breathless chuckle as he kisses you again, giving you a reason to wait for midnight tides.

Obi wan - Ragged breaths and twisted limbs

There was always a tell. The way he raised his eyebrow with well trained elegance. The slow grin, there was a way to read his mind and only you knew how. But those moments were many, littered through the day and during missions. He held himself together well and everyone commended him for it. His hair set into place, his shirts ironed to a crisp, his well placed smile and soft hands. It was only you who knew another side of him, a side he displayed when he wanted something. When he wanted you. His selfless shell falls away and his soft blue eyes turn into a sapphire pool.

So how does he do it?

He lies in wait, when the sky turns black and as coruscant comes alive, there's a part of him that revives. He emerges from the shadows with soft moonlight kissing his skin but there's an edge to it. You know his steps when you feel his warmth close to you, as the keys jingle in your hands. This is where it gets fun, to tease him, to slow it down but he takes the keys from your hands, with one hand he opens the door with the other he keeps you in place, giving you no room to escape. Its gentle and wild, sweet and savory, how he turns into this marvelous lover. The metal tip of the keys hit a ceramic bowl like the chime of clock, like when the clock strikes twelve and he's letting this deprived persona out from the restraints of the morning.

You let him be, to come to you as you move away to create a chase to this game. He shrugs away his robes and he catches your hand that you had rested on the countertop as you read the letters you received today. Most about bills and a few other about council projects, none as interesting as his warmth on your fingers. He asks you for your help, when you knew this was his trap to get you close but you walk into it knowingly. To unlatch his belt from his hips, so you do as asked but watch his lips part at the proximity in which you stood, the belt buckle hits the floor like the sound of a lock being set free.

But his hands lay firm on either side of your hips as he holds your gaze. He toys with you, grabbing the edge of your shirt to pull it free from where it had been tucked in. To play with the buttons as he popped them out one by one, his eyes no longer blue but now wide like black moons. You ask him what he wants but he doesn't answer, almost as if the reply was not needed, his eyes did the talking.

So you move away and he grumbles, annoyed of this cat and mouse game. This was the best part, to hold the power to drive him insane, to watch him throw away his robe and pull away his shirt because he knew you too well, that you loved the endless extent of his smooth skin. He turned away from you, his bare back well sculpted as he drank a glass of water, you wondered how long he could keep himself away.

So you walk in front of him with only your loose long shirt on, with your hair set free to their wavy state and your makeup removed. He caught sight of you and that was the last taunt. Because now he threw you over his shoulder and locked the bedroom door. No more running, no more places to hide. Your laughed filled the air as you ruffled his hair, making it mused into a chaotic mess that you admired.

He dropped you onto the mattress as you held your arms out in a mock fight to push him away but he sat on top of your legs, his knees on either side of you, pining your down. He caught your arms and peeled them away so that you weren't hidden anymore.

The shirt was no longer needed because he deemed it so, as he pulled away the buttons and well you weren't sure of what happened next. All you could remember were your lips on his chest, his fingers in your hair, a long night of twisted limbs and ragged breaths. He would go back to being the Jedi tomorrow morning but tonight, he was the boy who deserved love. So you gave it.

[nihiladditaenihilperdidi]

Day in New York Pt. 3 || Rune + Anya || April 30th, 2024

Rune: "Famished." Now that she had settled in, short of kicking her shoes off, his appetite had finally reared its head.

"Got some takeaway menus in the kitchen."  Back around the U-shaped apartment to the single wall galley kitchen. The little blue chair was pulled in invitation. She didn't need to see the depressing state of his fridge.

"What are you craving?"

Anya: She quickly fished her phone from her bag before trailing him to the kitchen. Not quite the convenience of Doordash, but if he already knew the restaurants he liked in the area, that narrowed down the options.

She took the offered seat with a smile. One leg crossed over the other.

"Let me see the options." Her hands settled onto the table, her mobile pushed off to the side. "And I'll narrow it down."

She wouldn't know how broad a choice she'd have, until she saw the menus.

Rune: Crossing the house, Rune shrugged his coat along the way, tossing it over the couch as they turned the corner. Twirled on his finger was his prize, smirk plastered on his face as he gathered menus with his free hand. Greek, Chinese, Georgian, American, and Italian places nearby, all from one drawer and a magnet in the fridge.

"Guest picks the food." In the meantime, he would find a suitable record to play. Nothing but classics, from classical orchestra to 80s goth and 70s rock. Perhaps the radio...

Anya: Anya laughed, sharp and bright, her head shaking. "Ridiculous man."

She was still chuckling as she fanned the collection of menus out across the tabletop. The options in the city were so varied. She missed that much, for sure.

"You're worse than I am," she teased, plucking up the first to flip through. Italian, at a glance.

She'd browsed three before she snagged one from a nearby Georgian restaurant. Her dark eyebrows inched higher with each section she scanned.

"I can eat like... two-thirds of this."

They had a winner.

Rune: "I should have bet your bra on the restaurant." But instead he took to a knee beside her chair, sliding his hand from her ankle to her inner thigh. Fingernails softly and idly stroked.

"We have a winner. Give them a ring. They deliver in twenty minutes. Plenty of time for... who knows."

Anya: Ha. "Guess you're gonna have to pick another wager, then."

She could think of a few, most of them involving how much they could do before the food arrived. But it was difficult to think of much with his fingers on her thigh.

"We'll think of something. You know, they have online ordering."

She tapped the text just below the restaurant's number. There was likely a QR code on the back somewhere as well, but that was a discussion for another time. She grabbed her mobile with one hand while the other buried itself into Rune's hair.

"What do you want?"

Rune: "They have online ordering," he parroted, shaking his head. "But then we can't play a little game." His fingers stroked where her panties should have been, and he smiled.

"Surprise me," he whispered, pressing his middle finger forward, circling, taking his sweet time just because they finally could. There was nothing in this room or beyond its walls more interesting than her reaction, trying to order their dinner with a straight face.

Anya: Her hold tightened on those dyed strands. "Game, hm? What do I get when I win?"

Anya was up for it. She definitely wasn't going to push away that exploring hand. She'd already won.

Biting down on a smile, she unlocked her phone, rolling her eyes as she bypassed the search bar to dial the restaurant's number.

"I can't even remember the last time I actually called a restaurant," she murmured, listening to the ring. Her eyes found Rune's and held them for as long as it took for someone to pick up. The challenge in her gaze was obvious.

She was forced to look at the unfamiliar menu when a woman's voice greeted.

"Hi! Yes, I'd like to place an order for delivery..."

Rune: "I'm not looking for a wager." But their thoughts were once more in sync. She had already won. He had already won.

"Does that make you spoiled, or privileged, or too young for a phone?"

He waited for as long as her patience took, and when her gaze drifted, rubbed small circles around her most sensitive area, and then up and down. Feeling for the tactile pleasure, watching for which method rendered the most reaction before slipping two fingers within.

Anya: "Spoiled, I guess. By the miracle of modern technology."

There was room for debate, there, but Anya had to focus all of her attention on the task at hand. She sucked in a soft breath at the first circular stroke of his fingers. A loss of composure quickly regained. Anya couldn't actually have anyone hear her come apart at the seams. Her face flushed at the very thought, but she pressed forward.

She kept her tone steady, speaking far too slowly to sound natural as she gave Rune's address and unit number.

"Yes... Of course... I'm ready..."

At least her halting speech could be excused by the unfamiliar dish names.

Rune: "She's ready," he mouthed. His free hand spread her knees apart, turning her chair just enough to nestle between them. His two fingers worked inside her, feeling the shifting texture of arousal, feeling with curled fingers for that one place that would make this phone call nearly impossible. Firm and determined fingers had a grand time finding their prize, only to slip free, rocking his entire hand over her vulva.

All of that, and the audacity to wink.

Anya: She kept a white knuckled grip on her phone, the potential danger of cracking her screen the furthest thing from her mind as she struggled to maintain an unaffected tone. It was the only part of her that could arguably pass. Her cheeks grew pinker with each drag of his fingers, wide pupils eating up the green of her eyes, until only a sliver remained.  Even her barely-silent breathing was unsteady.

Anya willed her self to continue. She spoke slowly, tone bordering on robotic. Georgian salad and roasted mushrooms for her, chicken skewers and pickled vegetables for him. An order of smashed potatoes for them to share, and more bread than could be called necessary with such a spread.

Her thumb barely managed to tap 'mute' when the practiced crook of his fingers forced a whimper from her throat. She gave his hair a reproving tug, glancing up in just enough time to see that wink. He was a menace. She adored him.

"Nope... That's it... Mhm... Thanks. Don't stop now." Now that she'd ended the call and dropped her phone none-too-gently onto the table.

Rune: Moments like this left the mage wondering the merits of waiting. What a familiar had once told him so many years ago, that things were meant to happen how they happened when they happened. Mouthy bastard, but with every encounter with Anya from day one, that ridiculous quote had echoed from his memories as if through cupped microphone hands.

The clatter of her phone threw his head back with laughter. His hand didn't stop, just wasn't doing what she clearly favored. The authority of her tone was met with defiant smacks of his fingers, loud enough for satisfying pop sounds over her clitoris.

"I haven't stopped," he countered, sitting up and leaning in, just shy of her lips. Another inch and those lips ghosted her cheek, down across her jaw, and over her chin.

"Twenty minutes... what to do for twenty minutes..."

Anya: The gasp his smack elicited was one of shock, rather than pain. She could feel the hammering of her pulse in her chest and between her legs. But despite her answering moan, she'd lost that delicious friction.

"You have," she argued, because of course she did. Rune knew damn well what she meant. Without her phone to contend with, she was free to flatten her hand over his, guiding him toward the pressure she sought.

His mouth brushed her chin and she dipped her head to catch it with her own, chuckling as she did. Her fingers had yet to leave his hair.

"I have an idea," she murmured against his lips, her smile audible. "You can finish what you started."

Rune: His hair was going to be a mess by the time their food arrived. The thought had him smiling into their kiss, biting gently on her bottom lip, tugging just enough to do so before offering his tongue.

"This?" he slipped only his middle finger within, immediately pressing with purpose. "Just this?" His smile was wicked.

"I have an uncomfortable couch or a very small bed. Take your pick."

Anya: Her toes curled in the confines of her boots, her eyes fluttering shut for just a moment.

"Well, we have twenty whole minutes." Anya could make that time stretch. But a location change was tempting. It didn't take much consideration. She freed his hand to wind both arms behind his neck.

"Hm. Very small bed."

He'd have to navigate blind, as she wasn't ready to relinquish his mouth. She would, however, wrap her legs very agreeably around his waist when he stood.

Rune: Make time stretch. Another shared thought he would wager, but the seed was planted. His lip bitten with ideas easily distracted by reality. There she was, willingly and so easily in his arms. The absurdity was what made her real; knowing he would not treat himself so kindly in his own dreams.

Both hands held her agreeably underneath her skirt, relishing skin-to-skin as he waddled proudly the short distance to the bed, turning to sit for the selfish pleasure of having her in his lap. He relished the feeling of her heat through his clothes and raised his pelvis to torture himself further.

Anya: It had been her full intention, but she still laughed to be lifted from the chair. She trusted his hold and his stride until they settled onto the mattress.

Gone were the layers of thick denim and cotton from the day previous. The roll of his hips dragged fabric over sensitive skin. Anya shuddered against him, breathing a soft 'oh' against his lips. That. Again.

Anya rocked impatiently against him. She was at war with her own desire, wanting to touch as much as she wanted to be touched. She split the difference. One hand shifted to cradle the side of his face, the other slipping between them to work loose the buttons of her stolen shirt. He still wasn't getting it back, but it was in the way, at the moment.

Rune: Again she would have. The feeling of his arousal as a plaything for her jutting and rocking. There was something incredibly sexy in being used like a toy, knowing it was his body, his presence giving her pleasure.

Cradling his face, working the buttons of her stolen shirt, his hands remained occupied, massaging the perfect muscles of her ass up over her lower back and back down over her thighs, only to migrate the length of her spine and back to her hips. Never lingering too long in any place.

"Sit on my face."

Anya: She freed the last of the buttons with a restless twitch of her fingers, glad to be rid of them. Less appealing was relinquishing her hold on him to untie the knotted ends and shrug out of the shirt entirely. She let it slide to the floor without another thought.

Fully prepared to give her bra similar treatment, Rune's words had her hands stopping short. They made to grip his biceps instead. Steadying.

"Do kurwy nędzy," she breathed, burying her face in the crook of his neck. It was the furthest thing in the world from a no.

Convincing herself that this was not an elaborate fantasy was the work of a few seconds. She inhaled the mint and pine scent of him before straightening, taking his face in both of her hands to kiss him sweetly. A touch of gentle affection before she pushed him down onto the mattress.

She didn't waste precious time with words as she crawled up to straddle his head as requested. This time, her grip on his hair was as much to anchor herself as for the tactile pleasure of it.

Rune: Her comment almost went over his head. Thoughts so far from Polish he had to blink, resetting his mind and chuckling when her words finally processed.

"Are you hiding?" he whispered, nuzzling into her ear. Her curtain of curls pulled back enough to nip the flesh of her neck, just shy of her jaw.

Her kiss did nothing to descend his high. Only a promise of what was coming.

The single pillow was pushed off the bed, hands at his ribs until she made her way home to his awaiting mouth. Strong fingers and clipped nails pressed into her lower back, encouraging her closer to his sweeping tongue, giving most of his immediate attention to her throbbing clitoris.

Anya: Anya was mindful of her position, the bulk of her weight pressed into the mattress, a knee on either side of his head. She surrendered under those encouraging hands. Just a little. One hand braced against the brick wall, the other fisted in his hair.

She chased the back-arching pleasure, riding his willing tongue, her breathing unsteady. But she maintained awareness of the man beneath her. She was ready to shift at a moment's notice.

Rune: Her hesitation was felt in the nuance of every movement. Sweet woman, even now being careful with her plaything. A hand slid over her hip, pushing with one hand only to pull with the other, directing her for no other reason than to relieve her concerns. He was far from smothered, though he found humor in the idea of dying by her pussy. Not the worst death imaginable.

Rhythmic swipes of his tongue gave way to gentle sucking, only to switch back, and forth, and back.

Anya: She wouldn't argue against his silent insistence. If he wanted her to take her pleasure, she would without apology. Her hips rolled in time with his tongue, until she teetered on the very edge of climax. She was lost to quivering muscles. The grip on his hair was punishing, however unintentionally.

Anya came with a soft cry. It was a breathless moment before she loosed her hold on him, and a moment longer before she shifted back to straddle his clothed cock again.

Though she hadn't quite caught her breath, she dipped to catch the taste of herself on his tongue.

"How much time left?" She was sure he knew.

Rune: If she wanted to grasp his hair for dear life, that was her right. Now that he knew her preferences, he had plans for her in the future. And just knowing there was a future put a smile on his face before she could reach his lips.

"That was less than five minutes," he grinned, bumping his nose to hers. "You're very sensitive." Never mind the truth, that he had slowed time in their little bubble.

His hands lingered on her lower back, just shy of her ass, pressing her pelvis down to meet his. A grind so perfect as to make him grunt.

Anya: There was really no arguing against that. Her laugh was muffled by his lips.

"See? I knew twenty minutes was plenty of time. I love being right."

And still fifteen minutes to take advantage of! Or perhaps fourteen, for decency's sake. His hair was already a mess, and she imagined she looked no less obscene.

Her ass was his to grab, if he so chose. They had little time to waste. Ignoring just how sensitive and swollen her clit was, she pressed against him again. That little grunt had been delightful. Though, not quite so delicious as his groans the night before, when her teeth had pressed against his throat.

Anya hummed thoughtfully. Two fingers tugged at his collar, exposing hidden space where neck met shoulder. The subtle indentations had long since faded. She wondered if it would bother him if they hadn't. Her lips lowered to that spot, hips grinding again. Another tender show of affection before she traded lips for teeth.

Rune: Just as her fingers had made a home in his hair, his grasp remained firm on her hips as a means to anchor his reality. There was nowhere his fantasies could take him beyond pessimistic, and he refused to indulge in melancholy.

His lips searched for somewhere to kiss, buried in her hair as she fiddled with his shirt. Her lips had been expected, but not teeth. It had been just one instance. A fluke. But the second pain registered his hips were rolling upward, his grind desperate and his gasp sharp, delighted, and tapered with a string of quiet moans.

"Something about fourteen minutes," he tried to laugh and failed.

Anya: Oh! She couldn't have hoped for a better reaction. There was something deeply satisfying in being the one to elicit it.

"Hm?" It was a soft, wordless question. Her mind was a second behind her ears, distracted as she was. Ah, yes. His sometimes-window into her thoughts. Anya didn't find that she minded.

"Mhm. Still so much time."

Time for another press of her teeth, certainly, sucking at the tender flesh. If he made no move to stop her, the mark would certainly linger. The hand that pressed to the other side of his neck was ever so gentle.

Rune: What she was doing was making a mess out of the man beneath her. A writhing, humping, panting mess soaking a wet spot into his trousers without a care in the world for anything beyond the woman in his arms and their animalistic needs.

"Harder," was a word he didn't mean to say. A greedy impulse out of his mouth before he could comprehend the consequences.

Anya: No, this was beyond mere satisfaction. There was a power in taking someone apart in this way, one she wouldn't admit to relishing. Not out loud.

That desperate word had her pulling back. She needed to study that treasured face. A careful hand stroked over his hair.

"Yeah?" Anya wanted this. Wanted that intimate knowledge of what he desired. To wring every ounce of pleasure out of him. Selfish and selfless, at once.

She could give him that much. The hand in his hair tilted his head. Her teeth sank into the lovely column of his throat. She wouldn't draw blood, but he'd have one hell of a bruise.

Rune: As much as he wanted to sink in on himself for his unintended confession, he could look nowhere else but her eyes when offered the chance. Those eyes were full of love and lust, sans disgust and confusion.

She was a winning hand. A perfect Ace of Hearts.

And her teeth sent him to the doorstep of Heaven.

But removing the barrier separating their bodies felt a step too far. It had to be her idea, he decided, content with his torment on all fronts. Just a little more friction and it wouldn't matter where his cock was, but he was certain by now she could feel what she had done to him.

Anya: Of course she could. She savored every desperate shift of his body beneath hers. It was truly a shame that they didn't have more time. Though, upon further reflection, they had plenty. Hours beyond the arrival of dinner. For as long as their energy lasted. The thought made her giddy.

Her lips pressed to the spot her teeth had been, before she sat up, settling back on his thighs to give herself room to undo his fly. That they were both mostly dressed was hotter than it had any right to be.

"Still keeping track of the time?"

Rune: Was she reading his thoughts now? Was he projecting? Rune sat up on his elbows to watch her, breathing in quickly and deeply.

"Twelve minutes, twenty-four seconds. Twenty-three..." he laughed breathlessly.

If he concentrated enough, he could slow time again. It would still be twenty minutes until a knock on their door, but it was the illusion of stretched time.

He would not ask what she was about to do, because it didn't matter. Truly, did not matter. It was hers to play with; it was because of her. What greeted her was modest, uncircumcised, and curved achingly toward his stomach, covered in preejaculate.

Anya: How did he do that? Anya didn't think she'd ever not be dazzled by him. She grinned, escaped curls swinging with the shake of her head.

"Impossible man." They had no time to waste, but she stopped what she was doing to take his face in her hands and steal a kiss, anyway.

Only a moment, though. Soon, she was tugging his pants down just enough to free his leaking cock. She took him in hand, giving a single stroke, biting her lower lip appreciatively.

"Still plenty of time." Though she was loath to rush. Not after so long wanting him.

She inched forward to settle over him, not yet moving to push him inside. Her hips rolled to drag slick heat along his length. She slid hands up his clothed chest and over his shoulders to settle at his nape, fingers lacing together. She sought his gaze for reassurance.

"Ok?"

Rune: His hips rose just enough to assist. He couldn't recall the last time he had sex almost fully clothed. Frankly, he didn't care. They had been naked jaybirds just last night. She didn't seem to have a preference, and neither did he. Only to admire her control, which she took with only a single hesitation.

He nodded, leaning up to capture her lips. She could taste herself again, nice and sweet on his warm tongue.

It's yours, he almost said. But she knew, didn't she? A thought that flipped his insides. Still on his elbow, he wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Miej to."

Anya: She accepted his tongue ardently, seeking his taste more than her own. That little phrase in Polish had her lips lifting in a fern-curl smile. She needed no further encouragement.

One hand reached behind her to hold his rigid cock in place as she sank onto him. A held breath expelled shakily into their kiss. No half-remembered dream could compare. Green eyes closed for a beat, forehead dropping to press to his. Her heart stumbled in her chest.

His name was a moan on her lips when she began to move.

Rune: If he could convince himself this was a dream he would, but the act of disassociation was near impossible. He couldn't look away. This was either the cruelest dream or the sweetest mercy.

His arm remained fast to her waist, fingertips pressed into her ribs. Every language he knew was insufficient gibberish. Only Dutch, and a mantra.

Dit is Anya. Jouw Anya. Zoete mus.

"Jij bent echt." He had to kiss her to be certain.

Anya: It was a declaration felt, rather than understood. Hours later, she'd revisit her resolve from years before to learn his mother tongue. For now, she only nodded. Yes. Of course. Whatever it was, she agreed.

Rune offered his lips and she claimed them, fingers lacing together behind his neck once more. It was as much for the pleasure of his skin against hers as it was to have leverage as she rose and sank onto his cock again, and again.

Rune: Rune could do little more than breathe. Swallowing great lungfuls of air against her mouth. They were anchored to each other. Braced by his forearm, his hips greeted her eager pelvis each and every instance. Fingernails dug through her clothes, wanting so much to have her teeth bearing the same strength into his flesh.

Her name never tasted so sweet.

Anya: Each stroke against that sensitive bundle of nerves drove her closer to a second orgasm. She clenched tight around him on instinct, her thighs quivering. Whether from the pleasure or the strain, she didn't know. Didn't care.

He'd certainly accuse her of hiding again, but she tucked her head into the crook of his neck. Overwhelmed by the impossibility of... all of it.

Rune could guess whether it was projection or natural impulse that had her teeth sinking into his throat, muffling a cry as she came. She wouldn't slow her pace.

Rune: Her clench brought him dangerously close to the edge, verging on painful had she an extra ounce of strength. The quiver in her thighs concerned him, but only for a moment. He wanted extra hands just to caress her, expressing concern with action rather than words, but he couldn't bring himself to detach his arm, nor flatten himself on the mattress. Being this close still wasn't close enough.

But he needed to grasp a language, and quickly. One she understood.

"Anya, I-"

Pain shot up his spine at the gnashing of her teeth. It was over; his warning lost in his choked, struggling moan and rocking desperate hips.

With every pulse of his cock, he made a proper mess of her, warm and slick and unapologetic. What, other than a bath, must they concern themselves with? At least now he could collapse, and bring his beloved with him, cradled and kissed to his heart's content.

Anya: She indulged in those kisses for longer than was probably wise. A knock would come too soon.

Anya still couldn't bring herself to move. Her head lifted just enough to study his face, to examine the marks on his neck for broken skin.

"Ik hou van jou," she murmured. Still just this side of perfect, but that was beside the point. She'd get it, eventually.

Rune: Bruised skin certainly, but she hadn't been vicious enough to break his skin. Still, the look of bliss on his face was entirely her fault.

"Ik ben erg blij om dat te horen." The man beneath her laughed, sighed, and kissed her again.

"Je hebt geen idee hoeveel ik van je hou." And she had little to no idea what he was saying. He knew that, but he needed a moment to reset.

"Engels," he muttered. "English. Right. Words."

Anya: She understood nothing beyond those last four words. They were all she needed, anyway.

"Wäre Deutsch einfacher?" she teased, completely unable to dim her smile. Hands smoothed over his mussed hair. Lips pressed to the bridge of his nose. He was a mess. A perfect, beautiful mess.

"Du musst essen. Can't exactly answer the door like this."

Rune: "Ja!" He laughed, as though caught by surprise. "Wir sprechen Deutsch!“ His hand clasped over his eyes, his grin broad and almost painful.

So, he would continue in German. She was right, it was easier to muster his second language.

"Why don't you draw us a bath? We can abandon decorum and eat and soak."

Anya: Had he forgotten? The thought made her laugh, dropping another kiss onto his lips.

German, then.

"Mm. Decadent. I like it."

She'd have a few more stolen kisses before she was willing to separate, sitting up to unzip and peel out of her dress. She tossed it and her bra onto the floor with his shirt. Better late than never.

Grinning, she retreated to the bathroom.

Rune: Rune remained in his crumpled state, eyes soft and tired and adoring, watching with reverence as she gave and gave relentlessly. A man could only take so much before an ache washed over his body and soul.

Once she was out of sight he was putting himself to rights.

"There's bath salts under the sink. Want some water?"

Anya: She left her boots beside the bathroom door. She'd have to apologize for keeping them on in the first place. What hair remained in her braid was freed, the lot piled messily atop her head.

"Yes, please," she called, starting the tap. "With ice, if you have it!"

Rune: The selling feature of this flat had been its absent doors. He could have had his pick of any apartment on any floor at Hillkate, yet he called the smallest, the most exposed unit haven for its lack of privacy. Subconscious peace of mind.

So, walking past the bathroom and seeing her, his Anya, making herself at home, he had to pause, but only for a moment.

"With ice," he echoed. Ice cubes and flasks filled the top freezer. A small black bag forgotten in the back, covered in a layer of frost. Water was poured from a filtered pitcher into a lowball glass. The fridge had seen better days. A half-bitten dark chocolate bar, takeaway that was beginning to smell, oranges and apples from a neighbor.

His shame was shut away.

"I guess I should put a curtain here," he sighed, leaning against the brick entryway of the bathroom.

Anya: Anya perched on the narrow lip of the tub, tipping salts into water that was just a touch too warm to be comfortable. It would cool by the time they were ready to climb in, surely.

She looked up at the sound of his voice, chuckling. She'd noted the lack of a door, figuring it was a byproduct of living alone and without an army of animals to keep out of places they shouldn't wander.

She extended a hand for the glass.

"If that's what you want." There was no privacy that could be gained with a curtain that couldn't just as easily be achieved with common courtesy. Fortunately, Anya wasn't squeamish.

"Did the place not come with doors?"

Rune: "It barely came with walls." Her glass of water handed over, he smacked the nearest brick with a hint of pride.

"I put these in. The kitchen was the only division. This was all storage. Everything in here was once someone else's trash. Everything but that tub."

Anya: "Thank you," she murmured, as her fingers curled around the glass. That little touch of pride had her lips quirking fondly. She hid the smile with a sip of water.

"A handy man."

Anya suspected again that he didn't host often, given he'd never bothered to put in doors, but she wouldn't voice the question a second time. She tucked the bath salts in the crook of her arm, bending to trail her hand in the rising water.

"It's a really nice tub. How long did it take you to get it exactly how you want it? I still haven't repainted the walls." And was still only considering a garden.

Rune: "Can't say. Haven't thought about it as wants. Needed a chair, table. Wanted quiet. I got quiet."

A quick rap in the door excused him from her heavenly presence. Paid and tipped, the delivery boy was gone in less than a minute. No one stuck around such a holy place. Feeling either unworthy or goosefleshed.

Rune returned to the bathroom with their paper bag, shirt finally discarded.

"I can paint your walls."

Anya: A splash of cold to spare their skin, and Anya shut off the water. While Rune collected the food, Anya tucked the bath salts back where she'd found them, setting her glass on the rim of the tub.

She didn't bother telling him that he didn't have to. He knew that. She only crossed to take the bag from him so he could finish getting undressed.

"Your list is getting pretty long. We can do it together." At some point.

She dragged the stool beside the tub a little closer, stacking containers atop it. When she was satisfied that it was steady, she sank into the water with a deep sigh.

Rune: "Well I don't plan on leaving in a year." Certainly she understood what he meant. As tired as he was, he would rather assume than elaborate.

With no more distractions, he could stare as he pleased. He found he often did so in her presence.

"Room for one more?" he smirked, sliding trousers and underwear down and away.

Anya: Anya smiled, at that. They had plenty of time.

She matched Rune stare for stare, her lingering gaze completely unabashed. With the stress of revelations the night before, she hadn't had the opportunity to truly admire his naked body the way that such a body warranted.

The smile that curved her lips bordered on playful, one elbow propped up on the edge of the tub, her jaw resting on her open palm as she watched him.

"I think I can squeeze you in."

Rune: "Oh, well thank you, ma'am." Both were as nude as the night before, and somehow this was less stressful. There was a sense of peace in her presence, being vulnerable with her behind a single locked door. He slipped into the bath with a sigh to match her own.

"You'll be bored before midnight."

Anya: "Bored?" The very idea was laughable. She grabbed the nearest container and peeked inside, handing it over to him.

"I don't think I've ever spent a single minute with you that was boring."

Anya could pass an afternoon quietly with him and be content, but even that was rare.

"We'll find something to do. We could sit and watch the rain. I don't care."

Rune: "Not even the boring parts?" He was back to smirking, fully expecting to be splashed by hot water. Luckily he was half submerged, container all but floating in the water.

"Is this the Polish in you or the American? You're boiling us like eggs."

Anya: Splashed he was, and offered a poked-out tongue for good measure. She very seriously considered chucking a mushroom at his head, but bit into it instead.

"There's no American in this blood, sir. It's perfect. Toasty."

She sank a little deeper beneath the surface to prove her point.

"Warm water is good to relax tired muscles. I really only take them when I need to wind down. A nice bath bomb? Maybe a good book? Perfect."

Rune: "I think I'm too Dutch." Was that ironic? No. People could certainly be too American. "I'm sweating underwater."

Teasing her was a highlight of his life, and their confessions didn't suddenly flip a switch in his personality. Neither, it seemed, did it for her.

"You've never jumped in a lake in the middle of winter. Just a guess."

Anya: "You poor man." Her eyes rolled, but she reached behind her for the tap anyway. Another splash of cold that she refused to let make her body tense up. She did so love him.

"Show's how much you actually know. Have you ever gone skinny dipping in an alpine lake after a nice, long hike? That's not a bath. It's different."

Rune: Once again seeing the truth of his words woven between the jestering.

"I think that's another story for another time." A cube of chicken was pulled from his skewer. Was this the first time eating meat in front of her? He couldn't recall.

"But I want to hear your story. How old were you?"

Anya: "Ok." She dipped her head. Another time worked for her. She wasn't in any rush.

Humming around a mouthful of mushroom, Anya gestured vaguely with her disposable fork. "That depends," she began, when she'd swallowed, "on which story you prefer. When I was seventeen? Or twenty-two? Or twenty-five..."

Rune: "First experiences are intriguing." Another bite, tugging at his skewer. "The rest are chasing the same feeling, aren't they?"

Anya: Her head tilted one way and then the other.

"I don't know. Each time feels different, because the circumstances were different."

She fell silent, not quite able to voice the thought. That each retreat into nature brought its own unique sense of rejuvenation. That left her feeling small in a way that never failed to ground her.

Reaching for a braid that wasn't there, she grabbed her glass of water instead and took a sip.

"But you want the first time." It wasn't a question.

Rune: "First times are my favorite. Followed by... the... fifth time," he smirked. The last little morsel of his skewer disappeared into his mouth. Trying, for once, to eat slowly.

"Only if you want."

Anya: She released an amused huff, setting her glass aside with a soft clink. "I want."

Another mushroom, and a deep sigh as she collected her thoughts. "Like I said, I was seventeen. It was my first trip without my parents. Well, the first one that far from home. I was a couple months shy of finishing secondary school; right after my birthday. I was... still sad. And a little scared, but mostly excited about graduating. Went with a group of friends to the Tatras-- national park in the mountains. Anyway, you're not allowed to camp inside the park, so we stayed in these terrible little huts just outside that were only a couple of euros a night. Think: communal showers, stained bedsheets, terrible food. But I didn't care at all. We were there for the trails. My favorite takes you right along the biggest mountain lake. You're technically not allowed to swim --or fish-- but a dare is a dare. So, I stripped down and jumped in."

She chuckled at the memory, shaking her head. "It was fucking freezing. It's a miracle I didn't drown; I couldn't breathe."

Rune: "That's the worst about it. The breathing is... unlike anything else." His eyes were fixed on her chest, but not to admire; he was somewhere else. His own memory.

But he would much rather be in hers, living vicariously.

When he remembered to breathe, he smiled. Was that ironic, given the topic? He still hadn't mastered that word in over a century, but every now and again it crossed his mind.

"Is it the same friends each time?"

Anya: "It's definitely something you have to get used to."

His eyes were on her body, hers on his face, wondering where he'd gone for that silent moment. She didn't ask. A story for another time, as he'd said.

She gave a small shake of her head. "Made new friends in University. And the last couple of times, I was here. Just me and the dogs."

Rune: "Here? A lake here?" She was the only reason he bothered to leave the city. Lakes and mountains were a hard negotiation, and unless significant to his life, utterly foreign.

"First time was a dare. What were the others?"

Anya: "Of course! I said when I was twenty-five, didn't I? You know I was here by then."

She stretched for a second container, balancing the first precariously on the lip of the tub. She stabbed at a beautifully dressed tomato.

"Vermont, New Hampshire, one right on the border. I'll take a trip out West, when I have the time."

And the money, but that was none of his concern.

"This country is huge. I've barely seen any of it. Making the drive on the Alcan to Alaska is on my bucket list. But that's years from now, probably."

She tooka bite with an appreciative hum, swallowing before she continued. "Because it's fun, of course. Cold, but fun."

Rune: "You've been further than I have. Can't say I've touched any landlocked states." And with a realization, he scoffed. "I've got havens in San Diego and Seattle I haven't touched in twenty, no, thirty years. Yeah. This place is large enough to forget."

What remained of his aluminum plate was placed on the floor, only to sink a little deeper into the water.

"Why years from now?" Not his concern, she thought, but his interest.

"I didn't take you as a winter fairy. You scream springtime."

Anya: Her eyebrows rose.

"You might wanna check they're still standing," she teased. She had a hard time picturing him on the West Coast.

"It's a really tough drive, from what I've heard. Remote, terrible roads. It takes a lot of preparation and I can't sacrifice that kind of time, right now."

She shrugged. It was on the bucket list for a reason.

"Yes. You know spring is my favorite. Making that drive in the winter is suicide. It's a summer trip. But I appreciate all of the seasons."

Rune: "All of the seasons. Every animal. Every kind face and sweet voice. Any reason to be helpful and loving. Aren't you tired?" he smiled, letting his mouth dip underwater, eyes smiling at her.

Anya: "Not yet," she laughed, the sound barely there. "Maybe when I've seen everything there is to see and done everything there is to do."

Until then, she was enjoying her life out of spite.

"But I'm not always helpful and loving. I'm human."

Rune: For that, he would emerge. "No such thing," he warned. "When you think you've done everything, there'll be something else. A place you haven't been, a niche subject you've never considered. Something new will be invented. A new discovery."

He couldn't say that was the reason he was still around, but, she could assume. Probably better than the truth.

"Anya Adamczak, my spatzi, selfish?"

Anya: "You say that like it's a bad thing. Sounds like always having something to look forward to."

Maybe that was optimism, but it was how she truly felt. She cracked a smile, covering her mouth with a hand as she chewed a cucumber.

"Sometimes. And short tempered, and too competitive, and stubborn. Less stubborn than you, though."

Rune: "I've never experienced short-tempered Anya. I don't think she's real. You made her up."

competitive, stubborn, certainly. He could smile along with her.

"Is that what you want? To live 108 years in good shape? Still learning on your death bed?"

Anya: "Catch me on a bad day. You'll meet her. Not sure you'll like her."

She hummed around another mouthful of her salad, taking a silent moment to chew and swallow.

"That sounds like a pretty good life, yes."

Rune: "I think I can take her. We'll come to blows in the backyard. She'll swarm me with ravens and mice and walk away with a scratch."

All jokes aside, and another bite of chicken later, Rune was back to staring at the rippling water, reflecting on her gentle enthusiasm.

"Hmm." I can give that to you, he almost said. Wanted to. Withheld only to contemplate the proposal... of some eighty more years of his presence.

Anya: Anya snorted. The vivid image had her biting down on a smile.

Rune quieted and she followed suit. Her eyes lingered on his face as she savored bites of her salad. He seemed lost in thought. She wouldn't drag him out of them, for a while.

"I've never seen you eat so slowly."

Rune: The sound of her voice brought him back, head tilting up before his gaze followed, softening from her presence.

"I guess it's this place. Never hungry when I'm here." The corner of his mouth twitched. "Never hungry after sex, either."

Anya: She feigned a gasp, pressing a hand to her damp chest.

"Oh, no! We'll just have to eat first, in the future. Keep up your energy."

Anya tried and failed to fight a smile. "I can't let you starve."

Rune: "I'm eating!" He picked up another skewer just to prove his point, taking a familiar enormous bite, chipmunking meat and vegetable in one cheek and struggling.

Anya: "Don't choke," she insisted, lips still twitching in amusement. "It was an observation, not a judgement. Slow down. Take your time."

Rune: He only shook his head. Smiling did nothing for chewing, so, he waved his hand at her.

"Say something mean I can't swallow."

Anya: She raised both eyebrows at him, losing the battle against a laugh.

"You can't swallow unless I'm mean to you?"

Rune: "You're making me laugh!" he insisted.

Anya: "I am not!" She covered her mouth with her wrist to muffle the sound of her own. "All I said was don't choke! Do choke? Is that better?"

Rune: Rune covered his mouth in a preemptive measure to prevent spitting. Could someone hate how happy they were?

He managed to swallow.

"You're gonna get it in a minute."

Anya: She was hiding behind her container of salad. Being sprayed with half-chewed chicken was more than she could take, even as she continued to fight in vain against laughter.

She peeked over the lip of the box once he spoke with a clear mouth. "I'm completely innocent, here. Blame the chicken."

Rune: Legs on either side of her, arms splayed over the lip of the tub, Rune stared at the ceiling, catching his breath. He smiled, feeling a sense of peace and exhaustion.

"Do you remember the hardest you've ever laughed?"

Anya: Anya watched him, her smile softening, now that he couldn't see it. She tried to recall if she'd ever seen him so content. At least until his question turned her thoughts elsewhere.

"Hm. No, I don't think so. I've got a couple. There was a juice-nose incident that is way up there. And that time with you at Coney Island. The first time."

She stuffed the last few veggies into her mouth and set the container aside. "Why? Do you?"

Rune: "Mm. You're pretty high on my list, but I've only felt pain in my ribs once. Almost twice. Arthur is to blame for one because of the other." He could feel her eyes dance over him. Nothing about her gaze gave him pause.

"I told you he was a radio host. He could sound like almost anyone. He could pull an Abbott on me and almost kill me."

Anya: Her face came to rest on her palm again, the rest of her mushrooms forgotten in the face of his memories. He couldn't see her smile, but he'd surely be able to hear it.

"Yeah? I love that. So, what was the time that made your ribs ache?"

Rune: "Abbott and Costello. I can't recreate it. Maybe it's online somewhere."

He wanted to further explain. Go into great depths about his life, his favorite people, and good memories, but how much was too much? What was safe? Ah. This was the definition of jaded.

"Why do I... always feel the urge to open my mouth with you?"

Anya: "Maybe. I'll try to look it up."

She wanted to see for herself what had caused that rib-aching laugh. If only to have one more little piece.

"Hm. Trust, I guess. You know I'm not going to use anything you share with me against you."

At least she hoped he knew it. The absolute truth of it.

Rune: He didn't know what to say. Eyes still to the ceiling, still in debate on truth versus silence. Silence had always been as easy as breathing. One day he would say the wrong thing. Already had, as he recalled.

"The juice-nose incident one of those you-had-to-be-there scenes?"

Anya: Hm. Perhaps not. She wouldn't dwell on his silence. Fingers curled around her icy water glass and she raised it to her lips to drain it.

"I'm afraid so." Another truth. But she didn't mind sharing, regardless. She heaved a deep sigh at the memory.

"I was fifteen, which should tell you how ridiculous it was. My... friend, Sofia, was staying over. We'd been up all night, as one does, and we were the kind of tired that makes you sort of... delirious? And everything is funny. Anyway, a fly got into my bedroom. I didn't want to kill it, but we couldn't sleep with it buzzing around. I swear to you, we spent at least an hour trying to shoo the thing out. It kept missing the window, and the door. Sof had run out of ways to curse the damn thing, and she was very creative with her curses. Finally, we manage get rid of it and get some sleep."

She dragged a hand down her face, fighting a smile at the foolishness of it all. "We were having breakfast the next morning and a fly landed right on the butter. I don't know if it was the same one. Probably not. But we completely lost it. I laughed so hard juice shot out of my nose, which only made us laugh harder. My mother thought we'd lost our minds. We couldn't hear buzzing for a month without giggling."

Rune: Why pause at the name? Or it wasn't the name, but the title. His gaze fell from the ceiling, paying just a bit more attention.

And what a story that was. He couldn't relate at all. For a moment he envied her.

"You're right," he said gently, love behind his words. "I had to have been there."

Water was cupped and poured over his face and neck. Still too warm for his liking, but the surrounding air helped.

"Reinforces something. Bugs are your weakness. A bug whisperer's your arch-enemy. Was probably Sofia."

Anya: "Mhm." One shoulder rose and fell, her thoughts turned to yesteryear. The memory brought with it only a sense of fond amusement, which was more than could have been said for the Anya of a decade prior.

She plucked an ice cube from her glass and slipped it between her lips with a chuckle.

"I wouldn't say a weakness. I just can't make them do what I want." Any more than she could a human. She could live with the disappointment.

"If Sofia could control bugs, it wouldn't have taken us an hour. She was a mutant, though. Is. Not like she's dead, as far as I know."

Rune: Oh, to be that ice cube. He forced his eyes from her lips.

"Gotta start somewhere." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the rim of the tub, fingers laced.

"That long since 'hello'? She's worse than me."

Anya: "Much worse." Her crooked smile held no bitterness. "I haven't seen her since I was sixteen. At least we did say 'goodbye.' I couldn't tell you where she is, now. Maybe still in Poland, but I doubt it."

Rune: "One of those people you've told me about, fighting the good fight?"

Anya: She giggled, tucking the cube into her cheek with her tongue. "Probably. She was the type. Mutant and proud, and so on."

She'd been so afraid, before her. For that change alone, she'd been a girl worth knowing.

"I learned it from her."

Rune: "So I should find and thank her." He hadn't asked what she could do, and had no intention to. If Anya wanted to tell him, she would. A rule of thumb with mages he assumed was similar for her people.

Anya: "Thank her for what, exactly?" He didn't ask, and she didn't offer. Not out of any lingering loyalty, but because it simply did not occur to her. Her lips twitched playfully.

"For my unwavering confidence? I guess she did teach me how to throw a punch. You can thank her for that."

Rune: "You want sentimentality?" Alright. "For being there before me. For what you learned from her." He made a fist of his own, correct and scarred. "For giving you this. I look forward to the day you clock me." And she could take that as a joke or... not.

Anya: That-- was a far sweeter answer than she'd been expecting. Her smile softened, a hand slipping beneath the water to squeeze his calf. Until his last sentence had her cracking a laugh. She was highly suspicious that he meant every word.

"If I deck you, it'll be for a good reason. Unless you want to spar again. You can have that for free."

Rune: "As much as I enjoyed our last match, I'm too conscious to spar properly." His hand joined hers beneath the water and squeezed her fingers, only to come back up and scratch and nearly healed wounds.

"Are you a prune yet?"

Anya: "I'd be fiiiiiiiine." But it wasn't worth the battle. Maybe she'd drag him to her gym one day, so he could see her in proper form. A thought to entertain, later.

She raised her submerged hand to wriggle wrinkled fingers at him. "Yep. But I'm not cold, yet. Ready to get out?"

Rune: "Of course you're not cold. You'll look like a forgotten horror before the water's ice."

Water sloshed as he moved forward. Some managing to jump ship, unnoticed as he offered his lips.

"You stay." He was up and out before a possible protest, wrapping a black towel around his waist before sitting on the floor, back to the bathtub. Another container of takeaway was grabbed and inspected.

Anya: She returned the kiss happily, only having time to pout for a moment as he jumped ship. She'd boiled her poor man like a lobster.

But he lingered nearby. No real cause for complaint. He'd find bread or his pickled salad in the remaining containers.

Anya took the opportunity to examine the scrapes on his back. She was satisfied with the scabbing, and pressed her lips to his shoulder.

"Can you make one of those... magical holes, at the house?," she asked, running fingers through his hair. "I'm not rushing to get back into my clothes, but I should probably wear something tomorrow. So I'm not arrested, you understand."

Rune: Rather than hunt for a fork on the bag he used his fingers. Pickled carrots and egg given the same chipmunk treatment as the skewer. His hum praised a symphony of flavor.

But it was a race to swallow. He turned in time to nuzzle, not wanting to miss a bit of affection. Who knew when her have it again.

"Thought you were gonna steal more of mine." Wouldn't have surprised him. Not as much as her suggestion had. She was at peace with his magic, and it was still jarring.

"Mm."

Containers were pushed aside. There on the bathroom floor he settled on his knees. A ritual she had only seen pieces of, now whole. There on his knees he prayed the familiar prayer, placed his thumb on his forehead and thought of his home away from home. He then pushed his thumb onto the floor and circled, depressing a hole into the dark hard wood, causing a gaping hole opening into her bedroom.

"Don't have long." Rune breathed in. "The dresser?"

Anya: "I will. You'll be sick of me and my sticky fingers, before long."

She'd asked the question intending to act on it much later. She straightened with surprise when Rune shifted position right away.

"Oh, I didn't mean..."

He was already speaking; Anya bit her tongue and turned to watch him fully. The process was no less fascinating than it had been the first time, or the time after that. He was a miracle of a man.

She dipped her head at his warning. "Yes, that works. Will you be able to make it to the bathroom? The cabinet under the sink?"

Rune: "Mm." She'd have to excuse the caveman speak as he concentrated. He hadn't left a tethering line to her bedroom to ease the process. Just another tally on his ever-growing list.

He had wanted to. Thought about it. Just a few scribbles on a piece of paper wedged somewhere in her house would do the trick.

But for now, he hovered at her drawer. "Underwear? Letting me choose?"

Anya: Anya was far more absorbed by his focused expression than on whatever his hands were doing. He might have grabbed anything without her notice. Her arms folded over the edge of the tub, chin resting atop them. She dropped a quick glance into the hole, before her eyes snapped back to his face.

"Go for it. Top left. Tees are two drawers down, but my pants are all in the closet. May has well head straight there. Whatever you reach first is fine, really."

Her color palette hardly varied enough for anything to clash egregiously.

Rune: His arm through the hole, he felt blindly at her underwear, tossing up the first folded pair in his grasp. Down he went for a shirt before hesitating, looking his guest up and down.

"Do you need a shirt?" His smile was nothing angelic. "I've seen you in a dress. I'm hooked."

Anya: She wouldn't own to the faint pink in her cheeks. It was the heat of the bath. There was no easy excuse for her laugh.

"A step up from scrubs and khakis, definitely. My dresses are also in the closet. Even easier, that way."

Rune: "Ja, ja, Kapitänin."

Then it was off to the closet with a gesture of his hand. As slow as it had been to shift areas in Willemstad.

"What am I looking for? What about this green thing?"

Anya: Her lips quirked, still contently occupied with the angles of his face. She barely spared a glance to the contents of her own closet.

"That's fi- hm." It was a little short, and they'd left the drawers and their leggings behind. "The one next to it. The white one."

With dainty floral cutouts that teetered on the edge of modesty. She could enjoy another day with him, without thoughts turning time and again to exposed scars. It was thin, but his wardrobe was right there for the raiding if she caught a chill. Convenient.

"One and done. I just need my travel bag. It's under the sink. Blue, with little flowers on it."

Rune: Out came the dress from the hole, draped over the sink to spare it any accident. It was an interesting, bold choice. Had he made her brave, confident, or comfortable?

There would be no interview on the subject, only shifting gestures leading them toward the bathroom.

"Your house sitters don't stay over, do they?" he asked, flattening on the hardwood floor with a grimace to reach for the little door knob.

Anya: "Is that your way of asking if someone is going to see a random, floating arm in my bathroom?"

Her little smile widened. She could imagine June's face all too clearly. That arm would be at risk of a flying shoe, certainly. The thought tickled her.

"You're safe. No one is staying over. I'd be worried about one of the dogs or maybe Brutus, but I shut the bathroom door. The real risk was Honey, in the bedroom."

Rune: Something made him smile despite the chill. Her thoughts, certainly. He could see that shoe as though his own imagination.

When he felt a strap he pulled. Luck was on his side, bringing forth a blue bag with little flowers, just small enough to fit.

"Could steal her, if you wanted. I can bring living things through."

Anya: What had prompted that smile? Anya couldn't say, but it pleased her regardless.

Unlike the clothing she'd left to be set aside, she reached for the toiletry bag as soon as Rune pulled it through. She unzipped it with a flick, quickly re-familiarizing herself with its contents. Good, good. She'd be able to brush her teeth and tame her hair. She unscrewed the cap on a tiny bottle of body wash and sniffed it. With a please hum, she set it on the tub's edge.

"Really? Yes, I miss her. As long as you can put her back before morning. I don't want my neighbors panicking for no reason."

One corner of her mouth lifted into a teasing smirk. "Of course, this is all about me, and not about you secretly enjoying kinkajou snuggles."

Rune: There was not much time left on the spell; too much strain would close the delicate rift. For now, he pancaked once again, whistling and clicking in the hopes of seeing Honey's face rather than Brutus through the door he had opened.

"I'm usually about cats," he mused. "Then you sauntered into my life."

Anya: "That's what I do," she chuckled, peering properly into the hole for the first time since he'd opened it. "I saunter."

She craned over the lip of the tub, looking for any sign of movement.

"Honey! Dziecko? Gdzie jesteś?"

Any grinned to hear the excited squeaking from the cat tree near the closet. There's my girl!

Rune: "Pss pss pss." Was Honey a cat? No. But the principle was the same. Only one arm fit comfortably through the hole, offering wiggling fingers to entice her to grab.

Anya: A little more coaxing and a massive pair of eyes peered out at them. Seeing Anya's beaming face was motivation enough for her to cling to that hand, making her way up Rune's arm without additional nudging necessary.

"Hello, my love! Careful of her claws. I don't want her to scratch you accidentally."

Rune: "She has and she will again." And he would do it all again. What was a little pain when attached to something so precious?

"Welcome to Brooklyn, big eyes." As soon as all limbs were through, the rift began to shrink to a pinpoint.

Anya: "Is that true? Did you scratch Rune, moja skarbie? You be careful with him!"

Loving scolding that would go complete unheeded. Night had already fallen, and the kinkajou brimmed with energy. She let out a series of rasps and squeaks that bordered on too loud, shushed by a laughing Anya as she clambered up Rune's bare arm to reach her.

"Yes, yes. I missed you, too. Tell me all about it," she chuckled, dodging the creature's long tongue. No matter. With Anya out of reach, she'd turn to groom Rune instead.

Rune: "We're the only ones on this floor," he reminded, though, with enough determination Honey could probably wake the entire building.

Back against the tub once more, Rune lulled his head back, allowing the little creature access to his hair to do with as she pleased.

"Shall I get her some water?"

Anya: If Rune wasn't going go resist that darting tongue or those paws, Anya wasn't going to rescue him. She didn't notice her own smile as she watched the pair, affection written plainly across her features. Her chin came to rest on her arms, again.

"She's already been fed, but she might drink a little. You can take her while I finish up here. She's going to want to climb your shelves, fair warning."

Honey liked to look down on her domain, which now included a quiet flat in Brooklyn.

Rune: Then that would be a balancing act of kinkajou and tying his towel back to his waist. If not for Honey, he would have been in the buff. It was off to the kitchen for now, cooing at little missus and looking for a suitable vessel for one of the last bottled waters in the fridge. A soup bowl would suffice. The knives in their block were tucked away in a bottom cabinet, along with the dusty spice rack and tumbler of utensils.

Anya: Honey chittered tirelessly. She took to the familiar perch of Rune's head, scanning her new surroundings with vague curiosity. There was no cause for fear or apprehension, here.

Exploration was the top priority when they reached the kitchen. The little creature scampered down to sniff at bare counters in search of potential snacks.

On her own in the tub, Anya bathed with her usual efficiency. There was little sense in drawing the process out, when much more interesting things were happening elsewhere. Still, she'd take the time to drain and rinse the tub when she finished, and collect everything that they'd brought in. She only bothered with a towel to spare his floors.

Rune: The only snacks in this house were still in the bathroom with Anya. There was nothing in his fridge he would feel safe eating, let alone offering a little kinkajou.

He bared that in mind. Either he needed to knock on a door in this building, or a quick grocery shop at the crack of dawn was in order. He couldn't recall the last time he had stepped foot in a grocery store. There were people for that. People being one diligent nun seeing to the wellbeing of everyone in the building, and he hadn't laid eyes on her in a month.

Rune hadn't moved from the kitchen by the time Anya arrived. Arms crossed, hip against the counter, passively watching Honey explore as she saw fit.

Anya: Disappointed but undeterred, Honey had taken to her hind legs, stretching to her full height to open and sniff at the cabinets. That's where candy was always stored, yes?

Anya rounded the corner on bare feet. She set the containers with food on the counter, searching for the bid to toss the empty ones.

"Honey! Get out of those cabinets, miss. This is not your house."

Rune: The trashcan she sought was in the corner of the kitchen, staring at the empty floating shelves. The only source of food Honey would find would be a box of stale granola, a box of potato flakes, and various canned soups and pickled vegetables.

Nothing for a little kinkajou to steal.

Isn't it? he almost said, but kept his mouth firmly shut, but smiling.

"Not my daughter. Can't yell at her."

Anya: His daughter? She wouldn't prod him about that declaration, but she laughed, her heart doing a delightful little somersault.

She spotted the trash and tossed the empty containers, before moving to stand beside Rune.

"You know she's very well-fed, right? Not even a little hungry. You're going to spoil her."

But was that a complaint? Not even a little. She dropped a kiss onto his shoulder.

"You can give her some of that bread, if you want. Just not too much."

Rune: "She's already spoiled. Look at her. Thinks she can climb anything she pleases."

He thought his smile was private, but hadn't glanced to confirm. If she saw, she saw.

"Are we sleeping like this tonight?" Now he could look at her. Just a brief gauge and admiration before grabbing what remained of the bread to rip into manageable pieces.

Anya: "She's not spoiled." She was, but he wouldn't find Anya admitting to being the one to spoil her in a hurry. "She's... willful. There's a difference."

His question prompted another smile, one she didn't try to hide. Her fingers brushed along his exposed arm as she passed him.

"Mhmm. Don't worry. I'll keep you warm."

She scooped up the curious kinkajou. Honey seemed happy enough to burrow into her arms, despite the disruption. A glance into the cupboards had Anya shaking her head. She shut them with a careful nudge and crossed to offer Rune the little animal. "You're worse than I am. We need to get you more food."

Rune: "I see where she gets it," Rune muttered with a sideways glance and a smirk.

"More food? We have a feast." A piece of bread was offered once Honey settled back in his arms. She would be back in his hair in no time, but for now, he could distract her with carbohydrates.

"It doesn't get cold often. There's no heater, just the fireplace. It's... peaceful. If you ever do feel a draft, just make a circle of salt. You know... out in the world."

Anya: He nearly earned a whack for that remark, but the kinkajou kept him safe.

"Not for now." She shook her head as she watched Honey accept the bit of bread in her little paw, nibbling at it with enthusiastic squeaks. The greedy thing. "Food in general. At least a few non-perishables."

She was already formulating a mental list. Absently, she pulled the elastic out of her hair, letting it tumble out of its bun with a shake.

"It is peaceful," she agreed. Quiet. Just as she'd thought when she first arrived. "Mm. Salt. Noted. I've got some at the house, but I don't generally carry it around. It couldn't hurt. But that's what this is for, right?"

She raised the hand that still bore his ring. "You haven't asked for it back, yet. I think you need it more than I do."

Rune: Her hand was gently taken, thumb circling the ring. After a mere second, he shook his head.

"I hadn't forgotten," and he would leave it at that.

"Don't do that." His smile was internal and warm. "I'll be sneaking out at the crack of dawn for some essentials. You and Honey guard the flat from ghost and goblins and angry nuns."

Anya: For once, he'd receive no argument from her. She'd... hold onto it for him, then. For safe keeping. Biting down on a smile, she pressed forward. On the subject of food, she could definitely disagree.

"I don't mind getting groceries, but if you really need my skills here, then I guess I can lend them. Not sure about Honey, though. She's pretty expensive."

Her grin was as bright and brief as a flare. She stole a quick kiss from his lips and scratched at the top of Honey's fuzzy head before turning away.

"I'm going to brush my teeth. Not too much bread, Rune."

Rune: She had to be doing it on purpose. Offering sweet kisses she knew he would lean into; following the trail of her scent and holding back the chase. The outcome would have been quite different if not for the little creature in his arms.

A few little pieces of bread and another offering of water, and what remained of their dinner was placed in the fridge. Only his precious record player kept Honey in his arms, but there was no door to bar her. The case was shut and locked. He would deal with the records later. Perhaps a kitchen cabinet.

For a moment he stood in the middle of his living room, staring at the couch and nothing in particular, wondering how this had become his life, if this were true, and not some fevered dream.

Anya: Anya suspected that the continued quiet was entirely to do with Rune keeping the kinkajou occupied. The hour promised boundless energy that she knew she'd have to rid Honey of, before they could leave her to her own devices.

A handful of minutes later, Anya emerged from the bathroom.  Towel  still in place, and smelling sharply of spearmint, she paused briefly to watch Rune look at his apparently fascinating couch, before closing the distance.

Arms slid around him from behind, her cheek lowering to rest on his shoulder.

"Tired? I can take her."

Rune: "Just... taking it all in." Honey could go where she pleased. Now that the needle and spin table were locked behind wood, he had no motivation to stop her. There were other delicate things. A radio, pencils, a broken-off mug in the bedroom, a cross; other little things she could make herself a menace for, but the weight of concern had dissipated somewhere between Anya's footsteps and the warmth of her cheek.

"Ever stop and ask yourself if what you're living through is real?"

Anya: "Hm. Sometimes. I wonder if I'm dreaming."

Honey was more interested in climbing out of Rune's arms and onto Anya's bowed head. She made no move to stop her, accustomed to being used as a human jungle gym.

Her arms tightened their hold on his waist. "This is real."

Rune: "I don't know." His hand draped over her forearm, fingernails gliding back and forth.

Wraiths were his reality. Holding the hand of dying nuns and staining to catch their whispered confessions, that was reality. Visiting Anya was a sweet dream.

Anya: "What can I do to convince you?" she murmured. Honey was pawing through her hair, again, but Anya didn't budge. Time was of no consequence, right now.

Rune: Was it ironic? Poetry? What did this feeling mean?

He was in a room where he existed a thousand times. The same wood, same creaks and groans, same city outside of the window, and yet this was a dream. A dream because she occupied the room.

He breathed deep and slow.

"I don't know." But he squeezed her anyway.

Anya: She hummed, low and thoughtful. As surreal as the past two days had been, it was cherished time. Her reality far surpassed any dream. She wanted Rune grounded in the moment with her, not questioning whether it was even happening.

Amid rasping squeaks of protest, Anya plucked the little kinkajou from her head and tucked her beneath one arm. Taking Rune's hand was second nature. She tugged him gently toward the space before the cold hearth.

"How vivid are your dreams?" she asked, with a small smile. "I'll tell you something I've never told you before. Maybe that will help. Sit with me?"

Not waiting for him to accept the invitation, she folded to the floor, arranging Honey in her lap.

Rune: "Just awake with extra steps." Relinquished willpower was the exception that made the rule. But her hand tugged more than his fingers. Pulled back from abysmal thoughts, he joined her by the fireplace, wondering why here, now.

"You've your entire life to give me everything." Far from a decline, he invited her to offer, and never stop offering.

Anya: "Mm. Intense." And useful information to have, even if she wasn't sure how, just yet.

She chuckled, despite the situation. He sounded more present already. "I'm not giving you everything tonight. Just one thing. One tiny thing."

While she shifted Honey to the floor beside her. Occupied thoughts and occupied hands. She let the little ball of energy wrestle with her arm, unconcerned by claws and fangs. Honey was used to this type of play and knew to be mindful. A tiny scrape here or there wouldn't cause Anya to so much as bat an eye.

"Well, I've told you that I had terrible anxiety as a kid. I was afraid of fire, of strangers, of being left home alone. I had awful nightmares, most nights. But my father was the best at pulling me into the present and out of the past. He'd pull me into his lap, stroke my hair, and tell me to focus on what was happening right now. I'd tell him three things I could hear, three things I could smell, three things I could feel, and so on."

Her mouth curved, small, and warm, and private. "I haven't had a panic attack in... a long time. But it still works. And it helps me avoid them."

Rune: At first his eyes fixed on the floor between them, traveling to the empty fireplace, to the tiny squeaks of the playful kinkajou, to her hand and up her arm.

Why tell him this; was she alluding that he suffered the same? No, just... giving more of herself. That's what he chose to believe.

"Heard about making someone count. Guess it's true. I think of the ocean. The salt and the dull roar. I miss my lighthouse, sometimes. I know why my mentor stuck me there. No better place for time magic. You constantly have to move. Something to clean, something to fix, something to fill. But time just... stops. It stops because it's the same. Same routine every day, day after day."

His mouth twitched, managing to catch himself. That one offer of exchange had opened floodgates.

"Way to tangent."

Anya: She laughed again. Though, whether the sound was to do with Rune or the animal that dashed in half a dozen circles around her only to dive at her arm again was his guess.

"I'm pretty sure they call that a conversation, but my English isn't perfect," she teased, scooping up Honey to let her have a go at the opposite arm.

"It was like that at the zoo. The routine. We knew what to expect, and so did the animals. Cleaning, and feeding, and enrichment. Lather, rinse, repeat. It was exhausting, but I loved it. There's a lot of that now, too, I guess. But it's different. I don't know what injuries or illnesses I'm going to be dealing with. Keeps things interesting."

Rune: "So that's what that is," he smirked, shoulders sagging further south.

He could have told her a story. Elaborated on Purgatory, the Shadowlands, and the outskirts of Hell itself. The place for those who took life into their own merciless hands. He had told himself he wouldn't. Had made a promise to keep as much death out of her life as possible.

And then he remembered her mother.

"When did you know you wanted to leave the zoo?"

Anya: "Hmm." Anya didn't rush to speak, considering his question for a moment. She released Honey for another series of sprinting laps, this time around the coffee table. Zoomies, people here called them. An accurate term.

"I didn't, really. It was hard to go. But I knew I wanted to do more."

To put her veterinary degree to good use. To heal, as well as care for.

"I met an exotic animal vet once who's basically a nomad. He travels from place to place, helping out at different facilities or just out in nature. I might've done something similar, but my animals need stability. Fun to think about, though."

Rune: "If you didn't have animals, you'd probably have the van life. Live your version of nomad, saving every animal struck by a car on your way to... somewhere."

He took a breath. Slow in, expelled out like a heavyweight.

"Both suit you. I won't say what suits you more, but, as far as paths to take, you're in the better forest."

Anya: Her laugh was a bright and startled sound. That he knew her so well shouldn't have been surprising.

"I considered that. Doing a cozy van build. Driving across the States, maybe somewhere else. Back to Europe. I don't know."

She shook her head, tickling Honey's little belly.

"I couldn't leave her. Or any of them.  It's a good life."

Small. Quiet. But good.

"She'll be worn out soon."

Rune: "You could have a cat. Two at most. I know a traveling psychic living that life. There's one in every friend group." He supposed he was that person for some. Jumping from haven to haven with just the coat on his back. All too easy to assume he had nothing to his name. From Anya's perspective, he had given her nothing else to go on for years.

"Despite appearances, I enjoy roots. I want my friends to have them. They make reliable places to sleep," he smirked.

Anya: "Ooooh. I see. It's my bed you're after. I know it's comfortable and everything, but that stings."

It was work to bite down on a laugh, lifting Honey to eye level.

"First my kinkajou, now my furniture. Nothing is safe."

Rune: Fingers gently brushed her exposed knee.

"Make no mistake, you came first. The rest is dividends."

Anya: "A likely story." Her facade crumbled. She caught his fingers in her free hand and brought them to her laughing lips.

"Ok. I guess I believe you. You'd have to be playing a long game. I didn't even have Honey when we first met. But you did mention playing me for Momo. I don't know."

Rune: "It wasn't Momo that ran over to me when I fell out of nothing. Do you do that with every handsome man falling from the sky?" he smirked.

Anya: She snorted softly. "I don't know. There aren't a ton of strange men falling out of the sky. At least not in the Bronx. You were my first, and my last. But knowing me? Probably."

Her head tipped to one side. It had been long enough. So much had changed. Surely, it wouldn't hurt to ask.

"Do you remember what you were doing? When you fell out of the sky?" The umbra. She knew that much.

Rune: He realized his surprise came from wondering why she hadn't asked sooner. That day had been filled with questions pushed aside with vague quips. Perhaps she had been waiting for the day he would offer the truth.

"I had been sleepwalking. I think... it was the Spirit Wilds. I could have been in any city. It's all the same toxic mess. Mm... most cities."

Anya: "But you ended up in mine." He'd sleepwalked right into her life. It was sobering to think that him emerging just one block over could have meant their paths never crossed.

"I'm glad that you did." The corner of her mouth twitched. "I don't know what I was expecting. That makes perfect sense, now."

Rune: "Why does it make perfect sense now?" Both hands reached for Honey, fingers wriggling to entice an attack. Whatever she did wouldn't cause a wince, barely a grimace. It hadn't occurred to him that he should pretend.

Anya: Anya dropped her into his lap with a smile, her fingers curving pointedly into a claw. It was a gesture that the kinkajou associated with play and would usually lead to a pounce.

"Because I know you sleepwalk, of course. And I've seen it myself. I wouldn't have guessed, before."

Rune: Oh, yes, that was a conversation they needed to have. But first, to make a go at Honey's tummy with his blunt claws. He was still learning how to play with her.

"Measures have been taken, here, so... there won't be any portals in my sleep. I might still wander around. We've been lucky, mostly, but if that happens just... turn me back to bed."

Anya: It wouldn't take much, he'd find. The prompt was enough to have her grappling with his hand, claws and fangs gentle, despite the ferocity of her little growls. A nip or two couldn't be avoided, but Anya wouldn't step in. She trusted the pair to play nice.

"Got it." Her head bobbed once in agreement. At least she didn't have to nudge him about their lack of clothing. Stumbling onto a random street without a stitch of clothing had to be... unpleasant.

"Is that something you can do back at the house? If it'll make it easier for you? More comfortable? I don't mind."

Rune: "I could. Takes work, time. This building is steeped in prayers and protection. Hears them every day. Making a portal is damn near impossible." Damn near; even the little window into her home had taken considerable effort.

His smile returned with a scoff, easing off the feigned aggression with Honey, letting her feel as though she had won with a limp hand, curious what she would do.

"What about nudity? What was that?"

Anya: "We have time." It definitely wasn't mandatory. She thought of a vague future, one in which he could rest without that added burden. Another task for his growing list, if he chose.

Without an active attack, Honey would sprint victory laps around them both. Anya's gaze followed the golden blur, but her laugh was for Rune.

"I was going to ask about us sleeping naked. I don't want you winding up wherever in nothing but your skin."

Rune: His smile reached his eyes. How dare she be so thoughtful.

"We can sleep naked." At the very least he would bang his head on the door; at most, he might make it to the ground floor before something impeded his escape. Had happened before, but Anya didn't need to know that.

"Are you ready for sleep?"

Anya: "I could sleep naked, regardless. But I don't know if that's fair."

The thought did make her chuckle. She caught Honey on her next lap, tucking her under one arm again.

"Ready for bed. But let me get this little one some water. I think she'll drink, now."

Rune: "It's absolutely fair. Liberating. Empowering." But uncommon. Most of the time, sleeping naked was a precarious occurrence in the bathtub. In his many years, he had yet to conclude why he slept soundly when wet. Just another idiosyncrasy that made him.

"There's a soup bowl out for her." Had been the logical choice, rather than a glass cup, she couldn't do much harm to an enameled metal bowl from the 1950s.

It was his turn to brush his teeth, splash cold water on his face, and weigh the consequences of an edible. Any aid, however small, to not wake Anya with his bullshit.

To the bedroom, then, to the small black and golden jar on the floating shelf, popping a clear oval gummy with a sigh. Not the strongest option in his arsenal, but the only one he would take tonight.

"Want the sound of the city, or some music?"

Anya: She only smiled her amusement, getting to her feet and murmuring gentle affection to Honey as they padded to the kitchen. As predicted, the play session had left the kinkajou thirsty, and far more subdued. Anya didn't hurry her along. She stroked at the dense fur between her ears until she drank her fill, humming softly all the while.

After a brief stop in the bathroom to hang her towel, Anya returned to the bedroom. She set a newly quieted Honey onto her bag, giving her tiny head a final scratch. The day would never arrive when she did not find the way the kinkajou sleepily sucked on her paw positively precious.

"She's not going to sleep until morning, but she won't destroy the flat, either. She might wander, but not too far," Anya explained, perching cross-legged on the bed. Fingers raked roughly through her tangled curls and she set about the business of plaiting them. "And whatever you usually do is fine. I haven't slept in the city in... a while, but I don't think I'll have any trouble."

Rune: Noise was welcome and he wasn't choosy. The clamour of Brooklyn, Amsterdam, Sydney, the hum and roar of endless ocean and groaning wood, music, a metronome...

His mental list was cut short, watching Anya smooth and twist her hair. Sitting like that in his bed.

He wanted to help, knowing good and well she didn't need his hands. But would she want them anyway?

Rather than ask, he sat beside her, pushing a stray curl behind her ear.

Anya: His weight shifted the mattress and she smiled. The brush of his hand had the expression widening. She wasn't seeking perfection, only to ensure that her hair was somewhat manageable in the morning. She thanked him, anyway. And though her fingers itched to reach out and touch him in turn, she'd lose all her progress if she stopped. So, she kept her hair secure in her hold and leaned in to brush a whisper of a kiss against his lips.

Rune: This time, he would chase her lips to victory, smiling triumphantly with heavy eyes once he tasted her. Only then would he collapse his weight on the old mattress, arm spayed over his ribs. If she wanted the towel from around his hips, it was hers to take.

Anya: Rune seemed content as he was, so Anya would leave him to it. Her little smile refused to dim as she finished her braid and secured it. She bent to retrieve the sole pillow he'd pushed from the bed before, dropping it onto his head with a chuckle.

"You might need this." Anya was happy to share, or go without. She stretched out beside him, an arm draping over his waist.

How many years had it been since that night? When Rune had scribbled down his address and she'd committed it to memory. She still struggled against a smile. "Took me long enough to get here."

Rune: "Too long," came his voice from underneath the pillow. A tired sigh later, the cushion was finagled under their heads to share, though he suspected she was content with his chest tonight.

"Some days, I thought I would see you in the hall, trying to remember which room is mine. Shitty days, I was grateful you didn't bother."

A yawn later, she was squeezed.

"Not everything's fate, but maybe this was."

Anya: "You might be right." She didn't know enough about fate to say for sure. But she was confident of one thing. "I'm really happy I'm here."

That yawn hadn't been missed. Nor had the heaviness of his eyes. With the faintest twitch of her mouth, she returned his embrace, propping her head on her palm.

"Go to sleep, Rune."

Rune: One eye peeked open, feeling the shift of weight absent her head against him.

"Are you watching me sleep?"

Anya: "Nope. You'd actually have to be asleep for that." A technicality she was happy to exploit. "Goodnight."

Rune: There was nothing to voice complaint. Nothing strange in her actions, for he had done the same in his sleepless hours. Better than moving and disturbing her sleep.

But still, he had to ask, "Not tired?"

Anya: "I am," she assured, arm tightening around him briefly. She'd seldom had such an opportunity- to study him without concern. To embrace the quiet. "I'll sleep soon."

Rune: "Alright." Rarely was he awake this long. Passing out wasn't a negotiation. His trust in her was the same as it had always been, proven soon with his even breathing, and the lightest barely-there snore.

Anya: Her smile was pure affection, but she gave nothing more, allowing him to slip under without so much as another whisper. She indulged in the simple pleasure of watching him for longer than she would have with obligations looming over head. But tomorrow was theirs. At least beyond the plans she'd have to make regarding her mother...

With that thought in mind, she settled down against his chest, just as he'd predicted, and drifted off.

[19thperson]

So, every time it comes around, I get a bit obsessive about Steam Next Fest, trying an excessive amount of demos. I normally share my impressions in whatever discord channels I'm in. Decided to copy-paste them here too thIs time. Got a head start since a lot of devs uploaded their demos early for Summer Game Fest. Note that these are notes shooting from the hip, Won't be the most comprehensive or thought out.

June 2024 Steam Fest Impressions Day Zero

Lost and Found Co

Standard hidden object game that caught my interest mainly due to strong character design and good vibes. It delivers on those fronts, and each level has a nice variety of optional stuff to do alongside combing for the main hidden stuff. Also has a nice little home customization feature, but I do not know if it actually does anything.

Feels like it'll be one of the better hidden object style games, but I don't have the strongest affinity for them, so I don't know if I'll get full release.

Technical complaints include a couple signs this was designed for tablet first, such as the start screen saying "tap anywhere," and the game acts finicky if it's in superwide.

Dungeon Clawler

Yet another roguelite deckbuilder, this time gimmick is claw machine. It does do interesting things with it, like enemies whose debuff is making items larger and therefore harder to pick up. Or an effect that causes the board to fill with water, some items sinking some floating.

Was able to get a really good synergy going with the magnet bunny, filling my machine with metal objects and dropping a huge pile earch turn.

That being said, there were times when I felt at the mercy of the physics engine. Crucial items tipping away from the drop slot leading to my loss.

Overall, it is Yet Another One with a fun gimmick. Nothing revolutionary, and you can tell if you'll enjoy it or not at a glance.

The Big Catch

I'm torn on this one.

The presentation is top-notch, and when things are chaining together, it feels wonderful. When things are chaining together.

The problem is the game right now feels slightly too strict. You can grind on rails, but it's easy to not magentize. You can jump on individual pole tips, but you better get your jump centered onto it. You can use swings and springs to fling yourself, but it's easy to under/overshoot.

The thing is, I've seen what the game looks like when everything is going well. So I'm not sure how much of this is the game and how much of this is me.

Other complaint is that there's no map, just a compass. Normally, I'm all for that, but the demo's landscape is a huge desert with ruins in the distance. Crossing those distances isn't a problem with the sand surfing system, but it's easy to get lost.

Building Relationships

Incredibly barebones demo. Some intentionally awkward platforming, a fishing mini-game, and talking to various characters. It lives and dies on its writing and atmosphere.

But so far, it's nailing it.

[richardsphere]

Leverage Log: The Blue Line Job

I read the name of this episode and let me say in advance, the reference to a (thin?) blue line immediately after an episode where the villain referenced 9/11 has me significantly worried about this show's direction. --- Oh its an episode about how one of america's 4 favourite pasttimes (hockey, baseball, Handegg and WWE) is legitimately bad for the participants brains due to the repeated concussions. (note: That description covers 3 of the four. Only baseball is not a contact sport) Im gonna be honest, i don't know how this ties into the Blue Line, but its an important message that US audiences need to be more aware of. --- So we have extreme electromagnets getting seeded, and Parker is starting to get the psychological profiling references (in creepy Cold War ways)

Everyone gets really confused for a sec when Sophie turns out to know a lot about hockey. (turns out she stole the Stanley Cup. Not to be confused with the shitty Stanley Cups that for some reason became FOMO Fashion last year.) --- Ok, if you are ever in the same room as any of these people: Dont eat, Dont drink dont even breathe. --- Cheating the guy with magnets. Anticlimactic use of them tbh. --- Elliot is loving it on the ice. I wonder what its like for an actor being told they have to suddenly learn how to do fightscenes on ice. --- Guys been putting a hit out on his own man to prevent having to pay his bonus. (by which i mean paying people to start fights with him, to avoid paying a bonus which prerequisites him fighting every game of the season. Its a terrible plan for avoiding the payout. Unless he dies but the bribes are not hitmen level of money for murder.) --- Nate is really frustrated that Sophie apparently lost the stanley cup. (not in the "lost the tournament" sense, but in the "lost the trophy".) --- Elliot decides to cut the knot: Just tell the guy his medical paperwork is being rigged and that he's dying of brainbash. Unfortunately it seems he knows and is trying to do it for his kid. --- Ok so it turns out that Sophie's old partner is a Celebrity Cameo. (Im not american and i dont like sports so i dont know shit about this guy) --- Ok so Sophie is pretending to be an eccentric billionaire (with a turtle) --- Oh Clients Dad just attacked Elliot? "you dont know anything about me" *proceeds to diagnose* Elliot keeps trying the "convince him not to kill himself" play (a respectable play) but it just doesnt work. --- OMG he just counterconned them by accident? "I know the industry, you guys are the bigger fish. Im out, feel free to buy my company if you want it" Im fairly certain this might be the one case where the downturn wasnt a part of the con. Honestly, amazing on the writers to have this such a natural way for the con to fall apart. "oops Hardison's too good at his job" --- Ok, so goodbye to Cameoman, it was nice to see him and nate not have a dick-measuring contest over Sophie's affections. (I was worried it was gonna be one of those jealousy episodes) --- Final game just started and Elliot is tackling white-shirts like there's no tomorrow. Cant actually see what he's saying to them but I suspect he's going into step 2 of his plan: If Clients Dad wont get off the ice, warn everyone else he's got a bad case of "the Dyings". Honestly, Elliot is great at just cutting through the complexities. None of this treasurehunt nonsense just tell them. --- Elliot is taken out of the game and put on the bench. --- Dad tries to start a fight but it seems im right, Elliot has just been playing the simple game of: trust humans not to want to murder a guy. Return of the electromagnets. (good, puck-tricking was boring). Remember, checkov's gun can be loaded with more then a single bullet --- Sophie still doesn't know where the cup is. (and I still dont know where the blue line is)

[imnotasuperhero]

Devil red lips - Wandanat

Type: Undefined

Summary: She should’ve known better. Never act on impulse.

Or, another songfic of mine staring our beloved couple.

A/N: Hi, long time no see! Here i am again with a random idea I’ve got while working a few days ago. Based on Livin’ la vida loca by Ricky Martin (it's a huge bop even if it came out two decades ago, so you can’t blame me). Hope you enjoy it! As always, likes, reblogs and comments are apreciated ❤️

Also, huge thanks to @wandaswigglywoes for beta-ing this, you're awesome, my dude 💕

Taglist: @wandabear @red1culous @summergeezburr @frostedfavesmain (let me know if you want to be added to future fics)

Sipping from her drink, Natasha scanned the bar finally meeting the pull she's been feeling for a while, now. Like a magnetic wave forcing her to move.

Studying the area, her eyes landed on a redhead staring intently at her; and as if she was casting a spell, the scarlet lips at the edge of her glass were like an invitation for Natasha to give away all resistance she possessed, just to try those lips.

'Fuck'

Natasha finished her drink in one big sip and licked her lips as she started walking to her target, never breaking eye contact.

'Game's on' she cheered on herself to block the uneasy feeling creeping at the back of her mind.

Natasha's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water at those big eyes. A deep forest green sparkling with something she couldn't poit her finger at.

"You okay there, Miss?" The redhead faked worriness, placing a hand on Natasha's arm. The skin-on-skin contact made the babyhairs at the back of her neck creepas a chilling wave ran up her spine.

"Yes," was all Natasha could muter as she tried to break the link between both pairs of green eyes.

"Are you alone?" The deep, thick accent in her voice was like a compelling spell.

"Why? You've got plans?" Natasha asked back, daring to show strength to the redhead.

Smirking wickedly as she grabbed her hand, the redhead guided Natasha out of the bar. And Natasha let her. No mater how much the alarm bells were going off in her head.

Unbenknowst to her, the redhead had her prey right where she wanted it.

With the beaming sunlight infiltrating through the cheap motel's curtains, Natasha grunted as she tossed in bed, wondering what she's done to wake up with a pounding head and an empty feeling consuming her insides.

All she could remember was auburn hair, captivating green eyes and inviting burgundy lips.

Lips that she remembers as clear as day all over her body.

Shivering, she decided to go in search of the closest café in order to fully wake up.

But her illuson of tasting the bitter berverage had to wait just a bit longer.

"That fucker," Natasha growled as she stared at her empty wallet. All the burglar left was her documents.

Humming at the steamy tea cup in her hands, Wanda inspected the tomatoes on the stand, picking the best ones for the dinner she planned for Pietro's return.

"Took me a while, but I found you," Wanda froze at the voice that plagued her mind since that night at the bar.

Turning around, the brunette clutched her hands, remaining confident.

"I'm sorry. You must've mistaken me for someone else," she faked a kind smile.

"Bullshit," Natasha retorted. "You might've changed your hair, but those eyes are not easy to forget." The redhead grabbed Wanda's arm and dragged her out of the farmer's market. "Don't make a sound," she warned.

"What you think you're doing?" Wanda knew causing a scene would draw attention to her and she didn't need to worry about that.

Letting go of Wanda's arm after confirming the brunette would follow, Natasha spoke. "I want my money back."

"I- I didn't take it."

"I woke up with an astronomical headache and an empty wallet. I don't care what the fuck you slipped in my drink, but I know for certain that you're the culprit."

"Look, I promise I didn't-"

"Quit the lies." Natasha threatened and Wanda felt herself shaking. "Why did you do it?"

"I- I'm sorry. I didn't have an option," Wanda shrugged, never meeting the redhead's gaze. "Easy money when your work has a shitty payment," she confessed.

Natasha could see the distraught in the brunette, and like an invisible force linking her soul to hers, she felt compelled to know more about her. And she would lie if she didn't admit it scared her.

"At least, tell me your name,"

Wide-eyed, the brunette acepted the outstretched hand. "Wanda,"

"Well, Wanda. I'll forgive your debt, if you go for a coffee with me," Natasha proposed.

And Wanda couldn't help the smirk taking over her lips for a few seconds before she composed herself.

"Guess you'll know how to find me," Wanda winked at her before starting to walk away, leaving a dumbfounded Natasha behind.

Little did the she know, Wanda's old habits die hard.

[deviant-fish]

who are you, why do you have so many bot accounts. Stop bothering us, none of us are a part of ekas.

Luckily the message has got out across all platforms by now. I can totally remove the warning message now.

I don't need to explain who I am to you in particular, since you've already been told on multiple platforms, and via my admin, business and personal email, because you just can't stop finding new ways to stalk me.

But for anyone who is not yet aware of that, who will read this message after you share it, Hello, My name is Akira AKA Deviant Fish, and I am the admin of a group known as The Fish Army.

The Fish Army is a community for people with an affinity for fish, whether they have have a fish persona, they work in marine wildlife preservation, they keep fish as pets, etc.

Within our community we do not approve of people who see fish as primarily a source of meat, which is the reason you were banned, by the way.

It's literally the very first rule, and you broke it in less than the first full sentence you typed, you little troll.

Outside of The Fish Army, there are other online communities people are part of. I assume what you mean by "bots" is other people who have screencaps of the character creator with the character they play as in the Aggregate Fiction MMORPG.

There aren't many games out there where you can play as a variety of fish, and since there's over 1000 species in that game, there's a few fish in there, so I play that game with some friends of mine.

The AF community has something going on right now to do with the vore community.

I took part in a bit of it this year, so this is the first time I've been involved there, I'm a pred by the way.

A few days ago, some visual novel game developers, released a bunch of vore games, around 30 I think, where I was a pred character in it.

Also my character build in AF has become a template there, so people can now play as me or modification of my character design.

It comes with a little story mode about me, like every template has, and people think it's pretty cool.

Since my character has magnetic powers, I also founded a community known as The Order Of The Blue Croissant, which is about how magnetism works as well as a bunch of magnetism memes, and members are encouraged to have their own characters that manipulate magnetic forces in some way, like a superhero thing.

As for my character themselves, they are a non-anthropomorphic silver trout, with human-level intelligence, that has mechanical limbs strapped to their body, and a mask that allows them to breathe water, while they are above the surface.

I have 2 big rivals/friends known as @scandium-sacer-laser , and @yttrium-yiger-microwave , who each run rival groups to The Blue Croissant, however the 3 of us form a group known as Team Beam.

The 3 characters that form Team Beam, my persona, Scandium's and Yttrium's, were modded into Sonic Heroes as a replacement for Team Dark, my persona being a swap of Rouge, Scandium's a swap of Shadow, and Yttrium's a swap of Omega.

I'm not exactly into the Sonic fandom that much, but it seems a lot of people know my persona from the mod.

I'm more active around the superhero scene, mostly Marvel stuff in particular.

Some people recognise me from the Lancaster superhero convention.

I'm the one in the space suit, that has the holographic visor, so it looks like my helmet has a fish in it, instead of my head.

For those that have seen the photos, yes, I really am super short, Asian genes did a number on me.

I have been harassed by members of Eka's Portal in the past, simply because my persona is a fish, and they started spam messaging me, saying that fish should be prey.

I was not even a member of that community, they just followed me around the internet, spamming me on every social media platform.

The Eka's Portal admin was responsible for this, and apparently they went on to harass other members of The Fish Army, as well as other players of AF, using the excuse that the several thousand people, were all the same person somehow, despite the fact they posted photos of themselves, and had hundreds of livestreams, many of which showing multiple people on screen.

You can see why people were quick to suspect you, especially since you seem to be making the same arguments as before all from the same IP address by the way, under the erroneous belief that a VPN can hide your IP from technicians, when in fact VPN's only block it from bots.

You have attacked mine and AF's community, regular as clockwork, every year around this date, without fail, since the year 2015.

Stop being a big child, find some meaning in your life, and find something else to do, that you will enjoy more.

Does that answer your question?

[worldly-diversity]

@museguided​ ○ 𝕓𝕖𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕥𝕥 𝕒𝕤𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕜𝕒𝕖𝕪𝕒 ○

          ⤷  『  ❝  honestly,  it was a long time ago.  i don’t really remember the details.  ❞  』

Kaeya truly enjoyed these little sit-downs with the various residents and visitors of Mondstadt, getting to know them better, learning what made them tick and what their lives were like. Not only did it allow him to get a wider sense of the world than he currently could, grounded to the city proper as he was in his station as Cavalry Captain, but he also greatly enjoyed learning the psychology behind the various peoples across all walks of life.

Today his not-quite drinking partner was none other than Bennett, who had agreed to join him at a table for a drink and a game of cards at the Cat's Tail. Terribly sorry to his usual crowd and of course Diluc's pockets at the Angel's Share, but well, sometimes one requires a bit of fresh air, no? Besides, though the Cat's Tail also certainly served alcohol (one such glass of which he was partaking now) they also offered a fairly wide range of non-alcoholic beverages and, thanks to Diona's watchful guidance, had even outdone their competitors in the variety and quantity of their stock.

Naturally it's still a bit odd for any bar to serve more than a token selection of non-alcoholic beverages, the Cat's Tail was actually doing quite well and had in fact gained in popularity due to its cozy setting and well-lit atmosphere. Ideal to relax with something light rather than to get as drunk and rowdy as they did over at Angel's Share. Always to his advantage when fishing for information, but a more relaxed and informal locale is also a quite enjoyable change of pace.

Anyhow, that was whereabouts he had ended up sharing a table with dear Bennett and even offering to buy him a drink or two to keep conversation flowing. Bennett may be a little isolated and widely known as a walking disaster and trouble magnet, but he knew a surprising amount of things both from his own misadventures as well as the stories of the adventurers around him, as he got to spend quite a bit of time with all sorts of those folk, living with two for fathers and all.

They'd ended up talking about something or other that had happened to Bennett in the past, an offhand mention that had piqued his interest but unfortunately was proving to be a less than fruitful line of inquiry.

"That's alright, no need to fret. I was but expressing idle curiosity." He hummed kindly in response, not wanting to distress the boy when he was so relaxed for once. They both were, really… It was nice to speak with someone without the need for complex word games or careful manoeuvring behind the scenes.

"Why don't I tell you about a tale from when I was younger instead? Hmm, perhaps over a friendly game of cards? It's been a while since I was able to enjoy such a relaxed atmosphere and find the time to sharpen my skills in Genius Invocation TCG."

.

[fatefought]

at first, annie only nods. tongue feels the need to be bitten back, but it seems snow wants to have a conversation. she can humor him. she wouldn't be admitting to anything that wouldn't be easy knowledge of their government anyways. at least he doesn't seem to want to look her in the eyes. if constantinus feels that much above her, so be it. after all, wouldn't she just turn to stone ? " a lot of families back in four do. i grew up with one. now i have my own. have you ever been out on the water before ? though maybe it's hard to get bored with all these mountains. " the mountains were one of the few things that didn't make her sick about the city. they're a geographic marvel to her, something that if given the opportunity she would love to explore. nature is wonderful. she noted on her tour how different the terrains across panem were. had she not been moments away from panic at any given notice then, annie would have happily spent her time staring out the train window.

but four was different, and had an essence that no other district or even the capitol held a candle to. home, something she looked forward to. she spent ages on her grandfather's boat when she was young. he taught little annie cresta how to fish, tie knots and finesse nets, prepare the catch, etc. when he passed, she took care of his modest sailboat. she still does, even if she had bought herself something grander with victor stipends. turns out money has even more value when it's bloody. ( and whenever the shame hits her, the next time she goes to sail it's on ole marcin's jalopy of a boat. ) " there's a large chance it wouldn't, but who knows. all it would need to be able to do is respond to the north and south poles. " there's a soft chuckle. it's mostly to herself, at the thought of the magnetic field changing since then. obviously it hasn't. but snow is right, her ship's navigator is much more advanced.

the man hadn't answered his own question. had she been more comfortable, she would press curiously. for someone of his status, surely something was of interest. he's staring intently at the displays after all. was it pride ? there's an intense truth at them being surrounded by it all. " it's why we're all here, isn't it ? i mean ... the quell begins tomorrow. would i be mistaken in thinking you're still on the board of gamemakers ? it's been a few years now. what a role to have in all of this. galven dupont said it was his dream from childhood, " it's a ramble, filling the space. some victors are charming, absolutely effervescent to the cameras and the people. some have called her out on it in the past. the designer from two rings in her mind, regarding finnick almost like a mythic demigod. ( is it easier to continue taking from him when those here regard him as something other than man ? ) at that same party, galven had approached. he had been the head gamemaker at the time. her game had been his last. he talked about wanting to leave with a bang ! maybe he had rooted for her if he gave the only young adult with the ability to swim a flooded arena ; maybe he was just sadistic. either way when his hand lingered on her upper arm as he spoke to her, annie had wanted to run similarly like she did in the arena. " did you ? i guess either way, you probably live and breath it now. " some victors live and breath it too. her heart breaks for them. most of the time, she can disassociate in four. however annie always sees the games.

annie sees it sometimes when she closes her eyes, and dreams of the arena. annie sees it when thea gets that far away look, and must wait patiently for her dear friend to return back to her. annie sees it when finn returns to four and yearns for the serenity of the beach ; sometimes hours in silence goes by until that tortured man can even graze her fingers. annie sees it in percy's heartachingly, beautiful eyes that match his father's, wondering if his name will be reaped like his mommy and daddy before him. annie see it all the time.

she's easy to remember, but her voice is haunting. back when she'd won, they had heard all of the panting, the crying, the desperation to just make this end as it boomed through the gamemakers' control room. he had also been the one — as the rookie — to edit out the three hours cut that would have been broadcasted, on and off, throughout that year — the room ended up smelling putrid from all of the times he had thrown up, cried on the panel, pulled out at his hair; he just wanted it to be done. he'd commiserate with the survivor of the 70th games then, and it continues, like a chronic disease he can not medicate himself out of his body.

that's why he sees her now, but he also sees her — there is nothing similar about annie cresta and nadia tanner; annie is tall, athletic, with cheeks full and nadia had been small, still hollowed from a life of poverty and a couple weeks in her games, and she was always pink (she used to blush in the loveliest shade when he touched her hair. real or not real?). nadia wouldn't have picked the compass. she most likely had no idea what it was — coming from her district, what use would it be? but annie is from four, and they have never ending waters, so they need that. he's been there, once, the trip a birthday gift as he wanted to look at the ships; his father had been a military man, and perhaps his grandparents thought connie's interest as a child would develop into wanting to be a marine, or at least an engineer to carry on the greatness of panem. well, they've gotten some of it right, haven't them?

he's staring. he's always staring at annie cresta when he can, when he feels she's the only thing that can ground him in the room. like all the other times, he hastily looks away, and sniffs. she makes him want to cry. he can't cry. "you got a ship?" he asks, looking at the object, not at her. they could have spun something about that: a pretty happy girl sailing in her little ship, swimming happily as she lives for the sake of that happiness, not just to escape death. there's not a lot of footage about annie cresta, though. he's made sure of it, the best he can (best that she's invisible, then she's not desired and picked apart further). "you think it works, then?" he raises an eyebrow. "most ships have their own, now. no need for something flimsy like that." if she'd ask, he'd probably open the glass and fetch it for her. constantinus frowns at himself — what kind of thinking is that?

he snickers. "this could be my foyer if i wanted." some of it could fit, he guesses. but there's no purpose in keeping things this old, from way before the dark days, in the mansion (or his apartment). "i'm not the biggest fan of these pieces of paper, too. a lot of outdated nonsense." he clicks his tongue, nods towards a framed piece of paper. "no games back then, so it feels pretty pointless, no? we're all surrounded by it, anyways."

[ghostly-clown]

Slashers with pets (and their perfect animal)

These are all my own opinions, and I wanted to try using more animals then just cat or dog

Includes:

Michael myers, Jason voorhees, all 3 Sinclair brothers, brahms, Harry Warden

.

Michael Myers

- we can all agree he is a cat person

- and surprisingly very gental

- an absolute cat magnet. He will just sit in a rescue for a minute and the cats will be all over him

- just got comfortable energy like that 😌

- he will look after strays, he gets scratched every now and then but everyone does

- but it dosnt bother him so he dosnt mind it, he knows he's helping them and that makes him feel something

- overall he like the cats

.

Jason Voorhees

- LIZARDS MAN, REPTILES

- he loves his snakes and gekos, or just anything with scales that's been seen as 'creepy' by the population

- he thinks the scales are satisfying to touch and he likes the weight of big boas on his shoulders

- like a weighted blanket but could kill you

- he also just likes to hold lizards

- would 100% be happy to lay down and let an iguana chill on his back

- he wouldn't keep them as pets tho, they're wild animals (that he feeds, nerses, looks after and give pets to)

.

Bo Sinclair

- I don't think he's very good with pets :/

- like yeah he and his brothers have a dog but it's more Vincent/Lester's dog

- I have said it before and I'll say it again Bo is a lil neat freak who likes to have clean spaces

- and pets as great as they are, arnt the cleanest things in the world

- so if he were to have a pet it would be something easy to look after that dosnt make much of a mess

- A fish

- Bo has a small aquarium in his room that he's super protective over, and yes all the fish would have names

.

Lester Sinclair

- Dogs clearly

- he loves all dogs and all dogs love him

- he will go past a raging dog bend down and talk to it 'in a witlle bawby voice' and the dog will instantly respect this man

- he's definitely tried to bring in more stray dogs but his brothers say no

- so all stray dogs he finds he will take to a shelter and he'll check up on them in his free time :)

- Dog lover in the best way

- he also loves other animals but none of them click with him like dogs

.

Vincent sinclair

- He has a small tortoise

- they are great with hotter temperatures so he can have it in his wax room

- the tortoise would work more as a buddy to make him feel less lonely while working

- Vincent also loves just taking care of it, watching them eat and washing them

- he would call it something very artsy (tmnt style)

- this tortoise is his child he will only ONLY let someone else near it if he for some reason has to do something and is completely unable to care for his tortise

- This of course has a one in a million chance of happening

.

Brahms Heelshire

- he would need a pet that is good with being held alot

- he is definitely the person who loves their pet with all his heart but needs someone else to make sure he's looking after it correctly

- as much as I wanna say he would be good with dogs (and for sure he would love them) I don't think it's the animal for Brahms

- maybe an animal that as well as being good with being held can also help him with self control

- I would say a rabbit, as they can also throw lil tantrums

- he would otherwise love it, especially when feeding it

- I think it would be funny if every pet he's ever had he names after himself

.

Harry warden

- he is a cave man so he needs animals that can survive those conditions

- those animals are rats and bats, he has a million rat and bat babies

- and he loves all of them

- he feeds them and regularly brings in fresh water, but it's more like he's looking after a bunch of strays rather then seeing them as pets

- all of them have also gotten used to him and so are comfortable with him picking them up or just petting them

- he prefers the rats tho because he can play games with them

- he's so used to rats and bats bigger pets (like dogs) would freak him out a little

.

Now get these men some animals to care for

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Timestuck AU: The Power of Mabel ch.2

While fighting over a time machine so one twin can win a pig or the other can win the heart of a girl, Mabel is left stranded in a snowy forest with no time machine and no brother. Oops.

The BEAUTIFUL art pieces were done by @clownwry and @elishevart ! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! 😭❤️💋

ch.1 - ch.3

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford was way more nervous than he was letting on.

She had long, pretty brown hair, braces over her teeth, sneakers, a skirt, and a sweater that allowed the cold air to pass through it. Her cheeks were slightly chubby with youth and nosy, as well as her nose, due to the freezing weather. Her eyes matched her hair perfectly, and though they were clouded with fear and confusion, Ford swore he could see sparkling behind the clouds, sparkling that made itself well-known when she asked if she could make him a sweater or when she saw his hands.

She had long, pretty brown hair, braces over her teeth, sneakers, a skirt, and a sweater that allowed the cold air to pass through it. Her cheeks were slightly chubby with youth and nosy, as well as her nose, due to the freezing weather. Her eyes matched her hair perfectly, and though they were clouded with fear and confusion, Ford swore he could see sparkling behind the clouds, sparkling that made itself well-known when she asked if she could make him a sweater or when she saw his hands.

Ford would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy Mabel’s company, but she was practically a stranger, and keeping a random girl in his house that was located in the middle of the woods was fishy and Ford couldn’t help but feel like it was illegal. But he couldn’t leave her out in the snow and send her on her way to find her home and family, so he decided to keep her warm or healthy, simply because it was the right thing to do.

But then she said she had no parents to call. Only a brother, who was lost, too. Ford can remember the old rule: If you’re lost, stay where you are until you are found. So he then decided that she could stay here until her brother found her, which should be by morning at the latest.

Still, he felt uneasy, so once Mabel was settled in front of the TV, Ford excused himself and went into the kitchen to make a phone call. There was only one man who would have better judgement in this situation than him.

The phone rang a few times. Ford checked his watch to make sure it was a reasonable time to call. It wasn’t Sunday, was it? But then the ringing stopped. “Howdy! This here Fiddleford McGucket.”

“Hey there, buddy.” Ford smiled to himself at hearing that cheerful voice. “How have you been?”

“Stanford Pines! Good t’hear from ya!” Fiddleford cheered. “M’just fine, just fine! How are ya?! Ya haven’t gotten eaten by monsters yet, have ya?” He laughed, making his old friend chuckle along.

“No no, I’m alright.” Ford almost brought up the reason he called, but then he remembered something very important to Fiddleford. “How are Emma-May and Tater?”

“OH! They’re doin’ great! We’re all very happy n’ doin’ well! Ya won’t believe how big Tate’s gotten since ya last saw him! He’s already crawlin’!”

“Wow, that's great to hear.” Ford sat in a chair at the kitchen table. “Has he said his first words yet?”

“No, not quite. Actually, he’s extremely quiet. Not a lot of baby-babble.” Fiddleford chuckled. “The doctor says that’s perfectly normal. Tate’s so smart, he’s reachin’ for specific colors n’ such, n’ ya can tell he’s thinkin’ a lot n’ knows what’s goin’ on, he just got nothin’ t’say.”

“I was very shy when I was young.” Ford commented casually. He didn't feel like mentioning why. “If Tate is anything like either of his parents he’s very intelligent.”

“Oh, he’s so much like both of us it’s scary. Ya know Emma-May, so clever n’ quiet n’ such. Tate’s got all that. But he already looks so much like me! But he’s got his mama’s hair! N’ Santy Claus brought ‘im this fun little fishin’ game where ya fish for plastic fish with a pole with a magnet on it, n’ he loves it! I can’t wait to take ‘im fishin’ when he’s big enough! Ya really outta give yourself a break n’ come down for a visit, he’d move to see his Uncle Ford again.”

Ford’s face felt hot. “Perhaps. Spring is when a lot of anomalies are active and breeding, so i would prefer not to miss that, but maybe I could visit for a weekend before that…”

“Well, no pressure, I won’t assume anythang until ya tell me to, just know there’s always a bed for ya here.”

“Thank you, Fiddleford. The same for you and your family. The clean air will do everyone some good.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Fiddleford sighed happily and perked up. “So! Whatcha callin’ for? Not that I’m not happy just t’chat, but ya never call.”

Ford laughed and shrugged to himself. “I suppose I don’t. I’m sorry.”

“No need t’be sorry, Stanford, just wanna know what’s up.”

“Well, I was hoping to get your advice on something.”

“Shoot.”

“Um… well…” Ford rubbed the back of his neck, unsure how to tell him this. “I heard some unusual sounds outside today…”

“What kind of unusual sounds?”

“Cracks, like lightning. And some faint yelling.” Ford answered. “I thought it might be a tree branch or a new anomaly to catalogue, but when I opened the door a young girl was standing there in the snow with no coat.”

“Heavens! Is she alright?!”

“She’s okay, no frostbite. She was cold, but after sitting by the fire, drinking some hot chocolate, and changing into some dry clothes, she’s okay now.”

“Well, good.”

“So of course I brought her in. I tried to call her parents, she probably got lost playing…”

“Sure.”

“... but she says she doesn’t have any parents.”

“Oh.” Fiddleford sighed. “Oh. Now, wait, are ya sure she didn’t just say that so ya wouldn’t call?”

Ford chuckled and said, “I first thought that too, but she looked too sad to be lying.”

“Okay, I see. Does she got somebody ya can call?”

“She says she has a brother, but he was out there, too. So he is probably out there looking for her and therefore nowhere near a phone.”

“Fair enough, okay. So, I reckon y’all are waitin’ for him t’come ‘round.”

“Yup.”

“Well sounds to me like you’ve handled this all pretty well.” Fiddleford said confidently.

“You think so?” Ford asked. “I can’t help but feel like I’m doing something wrong. Like I’m missing something. Am I doing something wrong?”

“Nonsense, buddy, you’re doin’ great.” Fiddleford assured. “Look here, ya can’t just leave a young gurl out in the snow t’try t’find her way home...”

“I agree.”

“... so ya really got one option n’ that’s t’keep an eye on her n’ let her in as a guest. N’ ya tried t’call, but nothin’. The best thang ya can do right now is be there for this lil’lady n’ just be kind t’her. N’ if nobody comes for her by mornin’, why don’t ya go into town n’ see if anybody knows her, then they can help y’all out.”

Ford nodded, then remembered that his best friend couldn’t see it, so he said, “Yeah, that sounds like a good plan. Thank you, Fiddleford.”

“You’re welcome. N’ hey, are ya okay?” He asked seriously.

“Yes, yes I’m okay. I just want to make sure I do this right.”

“O’course. I understand. Ya want me t’come down there n’ give a hand?”

“No, that’s not necessary. I’m sure Mabel will find her brother in the morning.”

“Mabel, huh? Well, if y’all don’t, please call me. N’ even if ya do find her brother, call me. Keep me updated.”

“I will. Thank you, Fiddleford.”

“Anytime, Stanford.”

~~~~~~~~~~

When Mr. Ford gave Mabel the remote for the old TV and went into the kitchen, she decided to use her awesome detective skills to figure out what year it was. If it was before Grunkle Stan lived here and opened the Mystery Shack, she must be pretty far back in time. But she had no way of knowing if it was 1999 or 2005 or the 50s.

The TV was old, but so was Grunkle Stan’s in her time. So Mr. Ford could have had this TV for a long time and didn’t want to replace it. 

Okay, so when was the TV made? Mabel didn’t know. Dipper would have known.

Okay, Grunkle Stan mentioned watching TV when he was a kid once or twice. So at least Mabel was when Stan was a kid, okay. 

Mabel turned the TV on and it was in color. Okay, so she wasn’t too far back in time. But the TV was playing a commercial for clear skin. The picture was gritty and all the people in it had puffy hair and long socks and oh my god was that woman wearing legwarmers?! Mabel grinned at seeing her favorite fashion on TV, but then her face dropped. When was she?

She tapped her chin and tried to think of how to know the date without being suspicious. She could ask Mr. Ford, but that might be suspicious. Mabel decided to start flicking through channels to try to guess what year she was in based on what was airing. A lot of shows were about cowboys, space, or game shows. Huh. Okay.

All the TV shows were definitely older. Nothing her dad would watch from when he was a kid, so if Mabel had to guess by everyone’s crazy air, the cheesy TV shows, and the music occasionally playing, she was in the 70s.

Huh. Okay. But she needed an exact year. So Mabel turned off the TV, saw an old radio on a desk, and turned it on to listen.

“... cuz it’s cold doesn’t mean you can't boogie, folks! So grab someone you wanna get warm with, turn up the music, and get your bodies warm in the coolest way possible! Here’s Night Fever, by the Bee Gees!”

Mabel grinned at the disco music. Her personal favorite song from these guys was More Than a Woman, but Night Fever would do. For a moment Mabel forgot her mission, jumped off the couch and left the blanket behind, and in the over-sized gray t-shirt Mr. Ford gave her while her clothes were drying, she danced along to the music, singing the chorus since those were the only words she knew.

“When you reach out for me. Yeah, and the feelin' is right,

Then I get night fever, night fever. We know how to do it! Gimme that night fever, night fever. We know how to show it!”

Mabel laughed at herself as she spun around in her socks and tried to do the point-and-hype dance she didn’t know the name to, but everyone did it when a disco song played.

Little did she know that Ford had returned to check on her, and was smiling at her as she shook her hips and waved her hair around and had fun. He leaned against the doorway and planned to let her dance in peace, but when she did a spin and saw him, she grinned and took his hand. “C’mon, Mr. Ford, come dance with me!”

Ford chuckled and shook his head. “No, no! I can’t dance!”

“You got two legs that aren’t broken?”

“Yes.”

“Then you can dance! C’mon!” Mabel encouraged, let him go when they were both in the middle of the room, and she started to dance again. “Don’t make me dance alone!” She even pulled an evil move and gave him puppy eyes. Rude.

Ford smiled slyly at her and hesitantly copied her boogie moves. It was true that Ford never liked to dance, but there was no one around but Mabel, and though he had only known her for an hour or more, he was sure she would never make fun of him.

And he was right.

“Wow! Look at you, Mr. I-Can’t-Dance! Yeah!” Mabel hopped on the couch, standing, and took Ford’s hand. “Here, I’ll spin you!”

Ford laughed and allowed it, doing a single spin, but then scooping her in his arms to dip her and then let her down, making her laugh as they continued to dance. 

“Alright alright, you crazy cats, that was Night Fever by the Bee Gees! It's a snowy day here in the heart of Oregon, with snow flurries coming in harder all night, but it should clear up by morning and be a fun day to go out and play! The date is January 26th, 1978 in case you gotta write a check or mail a thank you note to a friend or family member. I’m still writing letters for Christmas! We’ll be right back with some of your favorites after a word or two from our sponsors, so don’t go anywhere!”

Mabel stared at the radio. “Wow, 1978.” She breathed. Her parents were only kids right now, maybe only six or seven-years-old. Wow.

Ford chuckled. “I know, I’m still in the bad habit of writing ‘77.”

Mabel realized her mistake, but was grateful her host misunderstood her. “Me too.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for dinner. How about some ramen noodles?”

“Yes, please! Can we play a game after we eat?”

“Sure. I don’t have many board games, but I do have a deck of cards.”

“Do you know any card tricks?!”

“A few.” Ford admitted, wiggling his fingers. “There are some advantages to having more fingers than average.”

Mabel grinned up at him and followed him to the kitchen for dinner.

[stetervault]

Hiii! Been delving into Steter now, in the year of our lord 2021, even though I never really did when I was active in the fandom years ago and I was wondering if you'd have some longfic recs for the ship? Like, fics that are Classics(TM)? But happy endings! And I'm not super into those in which Stiles is still underage 😬 do u have any recs? Thanks!

Welcome to the Steter fandom! I definitely have some long fics to rec, some of them are super old lol, and I'll stick to ones around 20k or over, and most of them are finished. And hmm, considering the ship, and a lot of fics like to start off in season 1 where Stiles is still technically a teenager, I'll try to limit these to ones with Stiles being at least 16/17 before anything starts happening, and only 18+ if there's explicit content. I hope that's okay.

drowning in the sea of you by Corpium

Beacon Hills was perfect for Stiles growing up, but now, with werewolves, hunters, and an anxious best friend running around, it's turning into a place too chaotic for an empath like Stiles to handle alone. And pain killers can only go so far.

Wake Me Up by ToAStranger

Stiles has been in a coma for six years. Now he's awake.

Tremors by Corpium

(Stiles has a taste for him now. All Peter needs to do is wait.)

Surviving Peter and the Zombie Apocalypse by Nopennamesleft

Its the end of the world and Stiles has run out of luck. He saves a werewolf from certain death. Will they begin to rely on each other to survive or will the wolf just eat Stiles for a midnight snack?

Bite Down by EclipseWing

In which Stiles is forced to survive the zombie apocalypse with a sociopathic murdering werewolf for company.

as you are by veterization

Stiles runs straight into a tree and suddenly, things are... different. Namely, he's in a world where Peter Hale is his boyfriend.

Call My Name by KouriArashi

After moving to Beacon Hills, Stiles starts having recurring dreams of a man in some kind of prison, who needs his help. Things get so bad that he ends up in Eichen House, where he finds out that the man is real.

Devil of Mercy by KouriArashi

Peter's heard people talk about what it felt like when they saw their mate for the first time, from those who actually believe in the mystical bullshit. Like a magnet, like gravity. Peter just feels... sharply curious.

Whiskey is My Kind of Lullaby by taylorpotato

Peter is a simple saloon owner on one of the outer planets between the Aaru Belt and the Olympus Galaxy. He’s done with trouble. Done with adventure. So fucking done with rustlers. That is, until a cute young outlaw named Stiles wanders into his bar. Peter has this problem where he can’t seem to resist charming narcissists (perhaps because they remind him of himself). And when said narcissists turn his life upside-down, the worst part is he’s not even that upset about it.

Proposing To Strangers by moonstalker24

At the end of a strained relationship, crime novelist Stiles chooses to hide from the world inside a bar with far too many motorcycles outside it for comfort. Here he'll meet the man of his dreams, eat food and propose marriage, all within the first five minutes.

Peter doesn't know who this kid is, but he's cute and looks like he could use a break. So he feeds him. He's not expecting a marriage proposal, but with what comes after, he doesn't really mind.

Stiles Stilinski, Disaster Chef by Guede

The zombie apocalypse forces Stiles to learn how to cook.

The Will by Guede

We are gathered here today for the reading of Gerard Argent’s will.

On the Importance of Lunar Influences in Gardening by Guede

“Oh, it’s you again,” Stiles sighs. He puts down his basket and drops the bunch of onions into it, and then dusts off his hands. “Can’t you get your own strawberries? I mean, I have it on good authority that wild strawberries? They’re a thing. They exist. They’re out there.”

“But Stiles,” says the werewolf dangling by one foot from the tree, sticky red smears around his mouth and all over his fingers. “Your berries are so juicy, so ripe. Those ones in the woods are mere passing indulgences compared to the royal feast you have in your garden.”

Genii loci Stiles and his father run a community garden, and it’s all good, except for the werewolf who keeps sneaking over the fence to raid Stiles’ strawberry patch (and the hunter who’s constantly hanging around his father).

Runes and all kinds of things by FeelingsDusk (WIP)

Enough is enough. Stiles is tired of being always a last choice when he always tries to do his best for his precious people, so they better get their act together or face being left behind.

OR

The things in the Argent's basement get nearly fatal, the Sheriff finds about the supernatural, Allison can have a wicked, wicked mind and Peter Hale appears to be everywhere.

Oh, and Stiles can't seem to stop breaking the laws of physics with his magic.

Sanctuary by DiscontentedWinter

The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.

It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.

Out Of The East, Never See The Sun Rise by neglectedtuesday

In the beginning, there are three absolutes.

One. Stiles is a god, forged of starlight and collapsing galaxies and he is eternal.

Two. Peter is human, fragile bone and viscous blood and he is temporary.

Three. Stiles and Peter are in love; love that claws its way inside one’s heart like fish hooks; all encompassing love that is beautiful but dangerous.

Stiles is a god. Peter is human. They love each other.

Three absolutes.

You Had Me at Canapes by LadyArinn

Stiles doesn't mean to sneak into the Hale wedding, and he certainly doesn't mean to have cliche coat-room sex with the bride's uncle, but what had happened, happened, and it wasn't like he could just leave. At least, not until he got to have some of that cake.

Infinite Space by DiscontentedWinter

Stiles needs Peter's expertise to help stop the latest threat to Beacon Hills. And, as the pack falls apart around him, he might even need Peter for more than that.

Hook, Yarn, Sinker by pprfaith

Stiles is happy with his store, his hobbies, his friends. Peter's just trying to figure out how to raise his nieces and nephew without fucking them up too badly.

Paths cross.

Open Wounds by Guede

Talia got out of the fire with Peter, but everyone else died. Years later, they’re still struggling with injuries, but they’ve at least settled in with oddball werewolf Stiles. And then other werewolves start showing up. Familiar ones.

Bittersweet Creek by Guede

When Stiles finally steps off the westward trail to California, he’s the last of his pack. He starts building a den, but then he finds a dying man next to a burnt-down house and it turns out he’s not really much of a settler, after all.

For Great Justice! by Green

Stiles is a vengeance demon, drawn to Peter just as he's waking from his catatonia.

"Whoever did this? We will make those fuckers suffer. I promise you."

Bone Deep by ShippersList

A body in the woods, a mate, and a long-awaited revenge.

Peter had no idea how his life would change when he followed the strange pull in his chest.

Love What is Behind You by KouriArashi

Basically what it says on the label. Hunger Games type fusion. Stiles doing way better than anyone anticipates. Peter finds him intriguing. Ruthless, devious assholes working together to ruin bad guys, as the Steter ship is meant to be.

Soothing the Burn by Therapeutic_Steter (WIP)

Peter is burnt out and breaking down. Stiles notices and offers him solace, along with the one thing he wants most: Pack.

Til Death by Bunnywest

“How long do we have to find him someone?” Stiles asks. “Two weeks,” says Derek, eyebrows pulling down even further. The fierceness of his expression tells Stiles just how concerned he is. “He marries, or he goes to the camps. And you know what your father told us,” Scott reminds her. The camps……aren’t camps. Peter either finds a wife, or he dies.

Ink Blossoms by Triangulum

"So, you're going to ruin your niece's baby shower with flowers in the wrong color?" the florist, Stiles, asks when they reach the counter. He pulls out a binder and starts flipping through it.

"Not ruin. Mildly inconvenience," Peter says.

"Right, messing with a hormonal pregnant woman seems like a great plan."

"To be fair, her fiance and the father of her baby is my ex-boyfriend," Peter says. "And we weren't broken up when they started 'dating'."

Stiles looks up at him in surprise. "And you're still getting her flowers?" he asks.

"It's under duress, I assure you," Peter says. He absolutely wouldn't be here if his alpha hadn't ordered it.

"Well, shit, yeah, let's get you some purple revenge flowers," Stiles says.

After You by FlyAwayMeow (rjaejoo)

It’s true that sometimes what you want the most, you can’t have and that you’ll miss what you once had all along when it’s finally gone.

After breaking his engagement to Chris, Peter heads to New York to start over. He meets Stiles, a young author at his publishing house who helps him piece his confidence back together. When tragedy strikes, he discovers how to finally let go of his past and have the family and future he's always wanted with the pieces already in his life.

love me lights out by veterization

Stiles and Peter get snowed in together. (Or: what happens when you accept phone calls from people you haven't spoken to in over five years.)

Uncle Peter Doesn't Date by Mellow (SweetCandy) (WIP)

“Oh don’t lie, you love it.” Peter purred and winked at his newest arm candy, who spluttered for a few seconds, before blushing like a 16 year old virgin. Considering how young he looked Laura wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually 16. “Shut up Peter!” Bambi squeaked, still flushing and averting Laura’s eyes. “Well, anyways, I’m,” ‘Bambi’. “Stiles. Stiles Stilinski, pleasure to meet you- again.” Stiles smiled sheepishly, obviously nervous. Stiles Stilinski. Definitely a stripper then.

-

Or: Laura was prepared for whatever piece of armcandy her uncle had decided to show up with, what she hadn't been prepared for was Stiles Stilinski...her uncle's boyfriend.

Under the Songbird’s Wing by mia6363

Captivity easily destroys the will of escape. It can break the fiercest of animal. It can strip the most regal man and woman down to nothing but animal needs.

Captivity can, if met with unwavering determination, shape a person into something unimaginable.

Stiles is sixteen when he's captured. Stiles's first thought is, "I won't die here."

Baby Whisperer by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)

“What. Is that.”

Scott looked up at him, apprehensive.

“Her name’s Lily.”

Stiles stared at the fuzzy head peeking out of the papoose.

“Her. Her name. That is a real live human baby. Oh my God-”

“Actually I don’t know if she’s human?” Scott said with a confused frown. “Becca didn’t say.”

“Who the fuck is Becca?!”

Sacrificial Lamb by Bunnywest

The Alpha has a scruffy beard, unkempt hair and dazzling blue eyes. The scar on his face is raised, running down his cheek like a twisting, gnarled rope. Stiles knows that it came from the blade of Kate Argent herself, and that the Alpha got it fighting in the battle where Kate killed his lover, cutting his head clean from his neck, if the stories are to be believed.

The Alpha lets Stiles look his fill, before indicating that Stiles should take the other couch, and Stiles does so, his father’s words echoing in his ears. He can do this, can be pleasant and amenable. The lives of his people may depend on it. The Alpha spends long moments surveying him, before saying, “I like you, Stiles.”

You don’t know me, Stiles wants to blurt out, but he bites his tongue.

The Various Triumphs of Mischief Bilinski by Whispering_Sumire (WIP)

"Hello, Chris," sings a honeyed voice from behind.

Chris' attention snaps toward the intruder, his gun already out of its' holster and aimed at whoever it is — a boy, apparently, with braided russet hair, a red jacket, and wise eyes. He's wearing a gas mask, but Chris can tell by the way his eyes crinkle around the edges, the way sun-burnt sand swirls in his irises, that he's smiling.

Chris cocks his gun.

"You killed my father," he says.

"No offence, but he totally deserved it," the stranger agrees with cheerful solemnity.

"What the hell are you doing in my home?" Chris demands. The kid is perched on a windowsill in Chris' office, as nonchalantly as if this were something he did every day, as if they were familiar.

"I was just wondering," the kid speaks softly, fond amusement sewn through with a peculiar resignation, "how you'd feel about putting down some nazis?"

[Or: The one where Stiles goes back in time and subsequently fucks with everything.]

A Curious Magic by Triangulum

Overall, Stiles is very well-known in the supernatural community. It’d be hard not to be, not with how his reputation has grown like wildfire. He knows and is on good terms with nearly all the fae that reside in the preserve, the asrai that live deep in the lake, the Ito pack, the vampire couple that lives over in Beacon Valley (they buy an ethically-sourced food supply from Stiles), as well as almost every other supernatural entity in the area. But Talia Hale doesn’t like him, and a werewolf pack tends to do what their alpha tells them to.

So it’s a definite surprise when the wards at the edge of his property trip, the tingling down his spine telling him it’s a werewolf, the lack of burning sensation letting him know there’s no hostile intent. Stiles, in his office in the second floor turret, sets down the amulet he’s packing up for Marin and moves to the large window overlooking the front of his property. He’s expecting to see an Ito packmember, even though they nearly always call in advance, and is surprised to see a man that he recognizes as Talia’s brother, Peter.

Light in the Dark by cywscross

It still surprises Stiles sometimes, how easily he’s adapted. Seven months in a world filled with train tracks and soul-sucking fae, and it feels like he’s never known anything else.

~~

Or, the one where diverting the Ghost Riders from Beacon Hills to prey on a different town only succeeded in setting them free.

Vengeance Looks Good On You, Sweetheart by cywscross

Just because Scott refuses to see the Argents for what they truly are - prejudiced serial killers sitting proudly on a mountain of innocent corpses - doesn't mean Stiles will. It's about time someone did something about the Argent Empire anyway, and what a coincidence - summer vacation is just around the corner.

--

Or, the one where Gerard Argent kidnapped the wrong fucking person to torture. Stiles has never subscribed to the policy of forgiving and forgetting anyway, not when razing the problem to the ground and salting the earth for good measure has always been a far better solution in the long run.

He doesn't expect to have company.

[yootaesowlwrites]

Carnival - Dawon

Warnings: Fluff, humour.

W/C: 1.7K

Your arm was hooked into Dawon’s as he leads you towards the front of the entry line of the carnival that had arrived in town a few days ago, and Dawon had managed to get a night off the day before they were supposed to pack up and leave, you look up at him and smile, the sun was just starting to set, making the sky turn into a burst of different colours, adding to the fairy lights and other lights that decorated the trees and entrance, you could hear the sound of people laughing and the sound of the games.

“Let me know if you get cold at any time, okay?” He says, you nod your head, smiling wide up at him, he held his wallet in his hand, ready to pay for your entry fee. “Where do you want to go first?” You were getting closer and closer to the entrance.

“Whatever we cross first,” You say. “I don’t mind, you’re here, so I don’t care if we play Go Fish the entire time or toss hoop rings for prizes,” He smiles and leans down to peck the top of your head.

“I’m sure Go Fish isn’t the one at the front, and neither are those hoops,” He says, you reach the front of the line, and he quickly takes out the needed amount, wristbands were taped around your wrists, and you were on your way onto the field they had rented out, you reach the firsts stall, and you giggle, turning to look up at Dawon.

“I thought they wouldn’t have these two at the entrance,” You say, you could see the disbelief on his face as he looks between the two stalls. “I hope you don’t plan on taking a job as a fortune-teller one day, you would do horrible,” He lets out a huff.

“Oh, shush, come on, let’s go play them,” He says, pulling you towards the first stall. “Do you see anything you like?” You smile and look at the shelf of prizes.

“Aside from you…” You trail off, you hear him turn his head to look at you, and smile. “That, do you see that bag of goodies at the top?” You extend your arm out, pointing to the bag, you look at him, making sure he was looking. “That looks good, think you’ll catch the right fish for it?” You tease, he quickly takes out some money and places it down on the table.

“Five rounds, for each of us,” He says, he turns to look at you. “You first, since you want the prize so badly,” You could tell his competitive side had quickly joined. “If not, I’ll get it for you and treat you.”

“All right, anything you have your eye on?” You ask, picking up the fishing rod that was placed down on the table, you watch as his eyes scan over the prizes before stopping on one row.

“Yes… that water fun that has a fish head,” He says, you look at the toy and nod your head. “But try for yours first, we don’t want you to waste all your turns on me,” You shake your head and lean over the fish tank that had been set up, you lower the fishing rod, carefully watching for the coloured toy fish you had to get, you press your tongue to the roof of your mouth as you focus. “You got this, you can do it, baby.” You could hear the teasing in his tone, your rod catches a fish, and you pull it out, putting it down on the table. “Maybe next try, sweetheart,” You let out a huff before lowering the fishing line back into the water, he lowers down next to the tank. “A little left”

“Hyuk… shut up,” You mutter, knowing he was trying to mess up your chances, you hear him chuckle before standing upright and leaning over the tank. “Hyuk… back up,” He wraps his arm around you, causing the magnet to grab onto a fish, he moves his face into the side of your neck, his nose brushing against your ear as he lifts his head.

“Maybe next time, sweetheart,” He mutters, you lift the fish out of the water, taking it off the magnet, you place it onto the table, he lifts his head away to look at the coloured fish you had caught. “What, how?” You smirk and point at the water gun that had a fish head on it.

“I’d like that one, please,” You say, you hold the fishing rod up in Dawon’s face. “It’s your turn to get me what I want,” His arms drop down from you, and he takes the fishing rod. “Thank you for helping me, if you didn’t bump my arm, I wouldn’t have got that one,” He could hear the smugness in your voice.

“I…” He begins, he moves to stand in front of the tank as the prize was placed down in front of you on the table, he swallows and looks at the coloured row and looks down, seeing how many fishes were above that coloured one, you lean closer to him and cup his jaw, turning his head towards you.

“Don’t worry… you have eight chances,” You say, you lean closer to him and softly kiss his cheek. “Good luck, baby, you can do it,” You give him a sweet smile and watch as he slowly begins lowering the line into the water, careful not to touch any of the fish that were at the top, you move to place your hand on his lower back.

“Don’t,” He mutters, you giggle and lean over the tank next to him. “Are you trying to ruin my chances?” He carefully lowers the line down, missing the first coloured fish that were the easiest to catch.

“You did the same to me,” You say. “Besides, who says I’m not showing my support?” You hear him scoff, only for the wrong coloured fish to get caught on the magnet, you couldn’t help but giggle, he looks at you, making you back away with your arms raised, he reels the fish out and puts it down on the table before going again.

“Stay over there,” He says, glancing at you. “I mean it… let me get this for you,” You nod your head, deciding to stay aside, you watch as he lowers the line into the water again, after five tries he finally manages to get to the coloured fish and catch one, pulling it out slowly, he places it down on the table and point at the bag of goodies you wanted.

“See… I told you I’d get this for you,” He says, picking up the bag and holding it up, you smile and take it from him, he picks up his water gun and thanks the person working in the stall.

“And you only had three more tries to go,” You say, he wraps his arm around you and pulls you into his side, guiding you away from the stall.

“Hmm, from now on, I’m getting you things,” He says. “I’m pushing my competitive side aside, I want to treat you to all the prizes you want,” You smile and shake your head as you pause in front of the hoops. “Do you see anything you like here?” You look at the shelf of prizes, your eyes going all the way to the top. “Are you…?” You look away from the stall.

“It’s okay, let’s go try another one further inside,” You say, not wanting him to get discouraged at the giant plush you had seen and wanted, you pull him further into the carnival, the night seemed to fly by quickly, the prizes in your arms and his arms only piled up, and soon you could barely hold them and decided you should head home, as you were nearing the exit, he stops in front of the rings stall, seeing the giant plush you had eyed earlier. “Hyuk… come on,” You had stopped a little ahead of him, not noticing he had stopped until you couldn’t feel his warmth next to you anymore.

“Wait… I think there’s still one more thing I want,” He says, he looks back at you, you tilt your head to the side before moving closer to him.

“Yeah… what’s what?” You ask, he nods his head towards the stall, you slowly look that way, seeing the hoop rings. “Hyuk, it’s okay, come on.”

“No, no, you eyed it earlier,” He says, moving towards the stall. “We’re not leaving until I get it for you,” You follow him and watch as he puts all the prizes down on the table. “How many rings do I need for the grand prize?”

“All ten rings in the far one,” The person says. “If you can get it ten in a row, it’s yours,” Dawon nods his head, taking out his wallet and placing the money down on the table, the rings were placed down in front of him, he picks them up, and you watch as he gets into position.

“Hyuk… it's okay,” You say, he ignores you and tosses the first ring, managing to get it in the hoop that was the furthest away, you could feel your heart picking up as you watch another ring hitting the far one, you didn’t think he would make it, you honestly thought that he would miss one or get one closer to the front, but somehow he had managed to get all ten rings over the ring holder, and that was how you found yourself on your way home with a giant plush in the backseat along with your other prizes. “I can’t believe you actually got it…”

“Did you doubt me?” He asks, you give him a sheepish smile. “You did?” He fake gasps, stopping at a red light, he puts his hand over his heart. “I’m hurt…”

“Well, after the first two tries you didn’t get it… I couldn’t help but doubt it,” You say, he lowers his hand down to the wheel. “But I guess… third times the charm,” You reach over for his hand and gently squeeze it. “Thank you, though, Hyuk… I appreciate it.”

“Anything for my baby,” He says. “Anything to see you smile the way you did when I won it for you,” You couldn’t help but smile and glance back at the bear. “I hope to see many more of those smiles.”

[blood-starved-beast]

Irelia headcanons part 2. Here’s part 1.

Irelia hates feeling like she’s not in control. It’s a trauma response from feeling as though she failed to be there for her family, and a defense mechanism to be strong for the Resistance in Ionia. It’s not limited to those circumstances, however. She’s like that with her fellow dancers, the soldiers, with her relationship with Liana, and even more intimate circumstances, if you know what I mean. She’s never entirely comfortable if she doesn’t know the stakes of the current circumstance.

Building off that, Irelia also dislikes being vulnerable. She can’t afford it, with how often the Navori Brotherhood and other extremists try to kill her. Despite that though, she’s the type of person who gets very emotional very easily, and has a tendency to cry when she does. She hates it.

According to a writer on the Riot team, Irelia is a vegetarian. To build off that, she’s not one necessarily for moral reasons so much as cause the Xan family raised her that way. As with any person who grew up eating a certain cuisine, Irelia doesn’t really like the taste (or more specifically the texture) of meat. She has eaten it though, especially when times in the Resistance were bad. She prefers fish and even bugs over it, and chicken to red meat. During the Sentinels she couldn’t really stomach more than a few bites of the meat rations she got, and left them. She assumed Rengar or even Graves would have eaten what she left behind but one time while those two weren’t around she found Riven eating the remains of her dish (who as a former Exile, knew not to waste food ever).

That being said her favorite foods are desserts. Especially heavy ones like cakes and ice cream (and of course, traditional Ionian/Asian desserts and also fruits). If presented with a cheesecake (which I imagine is not native to Ionia) she would scarf it down. This is why her model in-game is thicc despite her athleticism.

While she worked in the Sentinels (the version that exists in my head and not what we got), part of the reason she warmed up to Riven is cause Riven’s stupid unfunny jokes and poorly executed sarcasm reminded her of Zelos’s dumb jokes. She’s not consciously aware of this similarity, but it definitely made it easier to humanize the Butcher of the Bay.

She knows Akali and they’re friends, or as much friends as one could be if one of you is a Resistance leader and the other an assassin. Akali likes her well enough cause she’s honest about her goals, though she thinks Irelia to be “unbalanced” in her approach to peace. Irelia doesn’t like Akali’s rebellious-ness and recklessness, but her earnestness in trying to achieve her goals is admirable.These differences don’t get in the way of their friendship.

She met Karma early during the Invasion. It was after a very intense battle with the Noxians. The image of a young 14-year-old covered in blood and gore was something that rattled Karma to the core then and can’t really shake away now. Had a major impact on Karma’s approach to the Invasion afterwards.

Karma is one of the handful of people that doesn’t put Irelia on a pedestal or see her as a tool for fighting the Invasion. (Others include Akali and Riven). She often encourages Irelia to relax, and Irelia feels a lot more at ease around her than around most people.

Irelia defaults to referring to people close to her by nickname. She never really uses Liana’s name, instead using various terms of affection. Even Karma’s title of respect “Enlightened One” carries a token of affection by Irelia after a while.

After defeating Swain, Irelia became a figure of superstition among those in Noxus. Some believe her to be a witch (as Swain refers to her in that one story) with the power to control weapons, with some going as far as saying that she could steal your weapons like some sort of metalbending magnet or something. Much like Riven getting the title of “Butcher of the Bay,” Irelia was nicknamed “the Blade-Witch of Navori/Ionia” depending if you’re talking to the Noxian colonies or to people in Noxus proper.

Other people, mainly those who’ve been in battles with her, have argued on the account that of her blue eyes (very rare in Ionia), perchance for rapid and merciless attack, and silence while doing so that she should instead be called the “Lich of Navori/Ionia” instead, arguing that she’s an effigy under the control of an actual witch in Ionia. Not a living person, but instead a dead soul bound to her floating blades and thus cannot be killed unless her trinity force is destroyed (with some going as far to saying in a certain order.) A young child defeating the grand general seemed unimaginable to them, so they justify it any way they could.

That’s all I have for now. If anyone is inspired by these to write/create art of it, feel free to take them. Just tag me or something so I can see the work that you made.