#and watching them grow up far sooner than they should have ever had to

[syrupgirl]

Request:

Could u write a fic ab Sully family x y /n reader? Where she lives with the sully family after her parents died, she gets taken by the colonel in the forest and is set up for bate because he knows she important to the Sully family.

a/n: the way I interpreted this, reader is taken by herself rather than what happens in the film where all of the kids get taken. I did use the rough layout of the scene for inspo but it does diverge from cannon ie Neteyam is with the kids when they get discovered. I hope that’s similar enough to what you mean. also reader is na’vi and around Neteyam’s age :p

Sullys stick together -The Sully family

“Catch me if you can!” Tuk yelled. Her little feet pattering along the branch of an enormous tree, while you and the rest of the Sully children chased her for sport.

She giggled delightedly, dodging out of the way of Lo’ak’s hand.

You really weren’t supposed to be out this far. Too close to the battlefield Jake had said. To close to where the sky people had already begun laying their claim on Pandora. Not if the Na’vi had anything to say about it.

But oh, it was such a beautiful day, almost no clouds in the sky, Kenten floated around you with the unfurled fan necks slowing their descent. Who wouldn’t want to get carried away with the day?

Suddenly, little Tuk ran into the trunk of a tree and startled back, falling on her butt. Kiri rushed forward and kneeled beside her, rubbing her back.

“Oh Tuk, are you ok? Are you hurt?” Kiri asked, ever the nurturer.

Tuk rubbed her nose and sniffed, tiny little tears blooming in her eyes. “Yeah, just got a fright, that’s all.”

Kiri helped the youngest sully stand up and continued to comfort her. Tuk reassured her sister that she was ok and Kiri relented. Tuk then wandered off to continue her little adventure.

“Wait, guys! Look!” Lo’ak whisper shouted.

Everyone looked to the direction he was pointing. Spider’s eyes widened and he even gasped a little.

“Wow, bro. That’s where my dad and your dad fought, right?” He asked Neteyam.

Neteyam didn’t answer right away, looking almost sheepish. “Yeah, bro.”

Lo’ak looked like he could barely keep still, a giddy grin upon his face.

“Well c’mon! Let’s have a look inside!” He was about to spring up when you put a firm hand on his shoulder.

“No way! We have no idea what’s in there, there could be some old tech still active, or…I don’t know, some angry beast!”

Despite not being a blood member of the Sulky family, after Jake and Neytiri took you under their wing and growing up with them for so long cemented your place among them as family. You were as much Neteyam’s sister as Tuktirey was.

Despite not being a blood member of the Sully family, they listened to you and cared about what you had to say, or that’s what you thought.

“That’s why we have our knives, skxawng.” And with that Lo’ak got you to sprint to the abandoned lab. Well, he would’ve had it not been for the tussling of the bushes opposite where you were all crouching.

“Sit down!” Neteyam gritted out, he grabbed his younger brother by the back of his neck and yanked him back down beside him. Lo’ak started to protest, talking about how it was probably some harmless animal. The sound of voices shut him down. Voices speaking in, english.

You were confused. Sky people should not have gotten this far out without drawing attention of the clan. Neteyam motioned for everyone to be still and you all watched on as the voices got closer.

Neteyam turned on his comms and started speaking to Jake. You could guess what he was saying; do not engage, retreat, stay low and out of sight. All very good suggestions in your opinion.

You kept your gaze intently to the direction of the voices, just waiting for them to pop out so you could get a good look at them and hopefully get some answers to your burning questions.

For better or for worse your questions were answered sooner than you thought.

Aside from the speaking english, the only thing that gave them away for being avatar and not Na’vi was the tactical gear. They were fully decked out. A few of them had arms decorated with tattoos and…sunglasses, Jake had called them.

They slowly approached the abandoned lab with guns raised and eyes everywhere. You all ducked down further once you realised you were way out of your league. Unarmed humans you might be able to handle. Armed humans, definitely more difficult but you had done it before, but avatar who were armed to the teeth along with the strength and speed of the na’vi made for a dangerous mix. You all watched as they searched through the building, overturning the insides of it.

“Come on, dad is on his way, he told us to fall back.” Neteyam’s urged all of you, gesturing into the forest behind him.

“What? No! This is our- my chance to prove to dad that I can help! I can be an asset to the people!”

Neteyam and Lo’ak continued to bicker when you noticed Kiri looking around, looking around desperately.

“Kiri?” you asked, “what’s wrong?”

The girl looked almost brought to tears when she looked up to you.

Her voice trembled, “Where is Tuk?”

Oh god.

She had disappeared before Lo’ak had picked up on the lab.

No one had seen her since.

Kiri clasped her hands around her mouth, she looked about as scared as you felt. God, little Tuktirey.

Abruptly, the group of avatars in front of you trained their guns on clump of trees of to your right. You had heard the sound too, a snap of a small branch or twig. Whatever had stepped on it was light.

Light enough to be Tuk.

The hostiles started to walk toward the noise. It’s like you were watching them in slow motion. Off to the side you could see Kiri��s eyes widen, horror flashed across her face. Spider had a similar expression, his eyebrows upturned in the centre. Lo’ak and Neteyam had stopped their fighting and just looked scared out of their own minds. Neteyam for once didn’t have a solution for everything.

So you did the only thing you could think of. A stupid, stupid thing looking back on it, a stupid thing parading itself as bravery. You scrunched your face, said a silent prayer to Eywa to deliver Tuk to safety and to give you strength for whatever was to happen.

You lept out from behind the log and dashed out of cover.

The avatars snapped their attention to you and raised their guns, but you kept charging towards them. Unsheathing the small knife you kept on you at all times, you cried out.

An avatar with short cropped hair on the top of his hair held out his hand and caught you around the neck. He didn’t hold you tight enough to strangle you, but tight enough that you couldn’t escape. He lifted you up into the air like you were fresh prey.

You struggled and snarled, trying to get your knife in any part of him that you could reach.

“Well, well, well, lookie here…” Quaritch chuckled darkly. He motioned for his squad to lowers their guns and the obeyed, observing their colonel with obvious amusement. It made you sick, you probably outwardly grimaced.

“I’ve seen you somewhere before.” He muttered. Quaritch made a show of ‘hmmm’ing and scratching his chin in fake thought. “Ah yes, i’ve seen your runnin’ around with the Sully spawn. You’ve been causin’ a lot of trouble, you and those other brats.”

You pretended not to understand him, opting to keep snapping and thrashing at him. It was not a complete lie; while Jake had taught you some basic english, you could probably only form the sentences of a small human child.

“The thing looks feral…” A teammate muttered from behind the colonel and the squad laughed.

“Don’t be fooled, soldier. These Na’vi can be quite clever when they put their heads together.” The colonel responded.

Thinking of your family behind you, you hoped and prayed that they had retreated back with Tuktirey.

Quaritch lowered you to the ground but before you tried to make a break for it, he wove his fingers through your hair and pulled hard.

You bit your teeth to stifle a scream and reached up to attempt to pry his hand off of your head.

“I know that there’s more of you back there, in the tree line, so you behave and my team will leave them be.” Fear flooded you at that, hearing that this man knew you weren’t alone. With a snap of his fingers he could have you all held hostages. So you stilled. You rested your hands back at your sides and begrudgingly set your gaze on him.

The avatar holding you smiled.

“Children o’ Sully! You listen here,” he spoke in english before switching into what seemed to be pretty broken na’vi, “you tell your father to come here, and this girl will be returned unharmed in exchange for his compliance.”

At least he didn’t know Neteyam had already been in contact with both Jake and Neytiri. If they just pretended to leave, Jake and Neytiri would think of a plan. Like they always do.

The bushes where everyone was hiding rustled. Quaritch tensed and the avatars behind you raised their guns once more, but the bushes stilled, no other came from it.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You hoped that they had gone back home or at least taken Tuk back.

“Alright everyone, I’m guessing we can expect Jake Sully and his mate getting here pretty soon.” He drawled, turning to face his team. “Get ready for an attack. Be on your guard and keep your new eyes and ears sharp.”

-

Jake and Neytiri quietly dismounted their Ikran and armed themselves. Neytiri looked as if she was shaking with rage, her mouth downturned and her eyes looking for a threat.

“Hey, I’m sure they’re all fine. They’re tough kids, they’re our kids which make them tougher.” Jake attempted a joke but it died out in the silence when Neytiri did not respond.

They hadn’t landed far from where Neteyam told them they were and they were almost silent as they crept forward into the thicket.

A flutter of motion from they’re left has Neytiri’s bow drawn and aimed at the spot.

“Mom! It’s just us! It’s me, Lo’ak!” Lo’ak revealed himself from his hiding spot, arms raised and Neytiri breathed a watery sigh.

She rushed forward, took her baby in her arms, and held him tightly. Lo’ak wrapped his arms around her neck and squeezed. From behind him, Neteyam and spider emerged too, looking a little more embarrassed. Jake looked at his eldest and frowned.

“Where are your sisters?” He asked. Neytiri finally set Lo’ak down and gasped a little, noticing the absence of three of the Sully children.

“Kiri took Tuktirey back home and..” Neteyam looked ashamed, “yn was taken.”

His mother squeezed her eyes closed. Even if you weren’t born of her, you were her daughter. The idea of you being taken, as bait no less, had her heart in her stomach and her chest alight with anger.

Jake sighed and his face turned stony. “You all stay here, stay hidden, while we clean up your mess.” He whispered. The boys wilted and sunk back.

-

Your legs were starting to ache with how long you had been standing and your scalp with how hard the grip he had on your hair.

The man who had been holding you earlier passed you off to another one of his teammates, who seemed to take liberties in yanking your hair every once and a while.

The once clear sky had filled with clouds and rain trickled down through the canopy above you. No one had spoken in a long time, like everyone was holding their breath.

Suddenly, your ear twitched and you flicked your eyes to where you had heard…something. It could just be the sounds of the forest, an animal eating a plant or a ripe piece of fruit hitting the earth, but this sound sounded out of place, made my something not of the forest.

You caught a glimpse of something blue ducking behind the trunk of a wide tree. They had been holding what looked like a bow. Neytiri!

You shut your eyes and thanked Eywa for delivering you a mother as magnificent and brave as her.

Everything was still for a while and you wondered why Neytiri hadn’t taken a shot. Had she left? In an attempt to look like you were getting drowsy, you slumped a back into the avatar holding you. Your head hit his chin as you did so. He shoved you forward again, tugging your hair as he did so.

That’s why she hadn’t taken a shot, there was too much of a risk of hitting you. You looked up to where you had seen her before and caught her eyes. She had been staring at you intently the whole time, waiting for an opening.

So you gave her one.

You hoped she understood what you tried to say in a single look.

Saying another silent prayer to Eywa, you grabbed the arm that wasn’t gripping your hair, brought it up to your mouth, and bit down as hard as you could.

The man screamed, “You little bitch!”

Thankfully, on instinct he let go of your head and you had just enough time to duck out of the way before an arrow hit him straight between the eyes.

-

Twigs and leaves crunched beneath your feet and you made a break into the forest. You didn’t dare look back behind you. Gunshots rang through the air, some even whizzed past you.

Just as you jumped over the fallen trunk of a tree, an arm caught you from the side. You fought against it, landing a blow against whoever’s face had snatched you.

They groaned and let you go.

“Be calm! It’s just me!” Spider said as he held his now bloody nose.

You gasped and reached out to touch his face. “Oh Spider, I’m so sorry. You scared me!”

He shook his head a little before standing up, offering you a hand. “It’s fine, let’s go. Lo’ak and Neteyam already left.”

You took his hand and the two of you ran through the forest together. Never daring to look back.

-

When Jake and Neytiri returned, you knew you were all in for it.

You and your siblings listened outside of their tent, listening to them argue. You held Tuk to you, you didn’t want her to hear what they were saying but she insisted, so all you could do was let her know she wasn’t alone.

Jake stormed out of the tent and you all pretended to be looking at anything else. Smooth.

“yn, get over here.” He ordered. Lo’ak patted you on the back and walked away with the others.

“That stunt you pulled!? That’s not on, okay? It was stupi-!”

You interrupted him, “What I did was stupid, but I don’t regret it. If I hadn’t, Tuk would have been in my position and I couldn’t stand by and watch that happen, sir.” Jake was silent at that. The same stern look painted across his face and his eye twitched.

You stood your ground.

He stood his. For a while.

Until he broke.

The hard look he had softened and he just looked like a tired dad. You realised how stressed he must be, knowing that an old enemy was back and would go through his family to get him. He though he had lost Neteyam earlier this week, and now his daughter? You could have sympathy for him.

You approached him and wrapped your arms around his broad chest. “I’m sorry, dad. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

It felt as if his chest buckled at that and he returned your hug.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again. Alright, soldier?”

You smiled up at him and gave him a. mock salute.

“Yes, sir.”

#i can’t tell if i over wrote #sully family #avatar x reader #sullys x reader #jake sully x reader #neytiri x reader #neteyam x reader #lo’ak x reader #kiri x reader #spider x reader #avatar 2 #avatar way of water #avatar fanfiction #avatar imagine #sully family imagine

[sl-ut]

always

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader (also kina platonic!joel x ellie)

description: things didn’t exactly end up the way ellie wanted them today, but she wouldn’t give it up for anything.

warnings: UNEDITED, swearing, slight nsfw implications (i literally just mention that r and ellie have had sex), alcohol and marijuana consumption, slight angst

words: 1.1K (super short but i like it)

date posted: 10/01/24

For the first time in her life, Ellie longed for it to be wintertime. She wished for cold air to cut through the bitter warmth, allowing her a breath of relief for even a moment, having stepped out onto the front porch of the Tipsy Bison to take a moment for herself. To be fair, it had been partially her own fault, winter had ended only a few months prior, why hadn’t she asked sooner? It had been under a gentle descent of snowflakes that she had fallen in love with Y/n, after all, but she also hadn’t expected there to be anything official beyond the trading of a few vows, the sharing of a joint, and completed with the rest of the night rolling in the sheets together. Though, it would seem that that was far too much to ask for. 

She really should have known better than to expect that Jesse would keep his big mouth shut, though she really did try to keep it a secret until the ring fell out of her pocket and onto the cold floor of their outpost. Jesse had teased her relentlessly, but seemed genuinely happy for his friends, promising to keep the secret until he knew that Jesse asked. However, as soon as she had, Dina was pounding on their door, demanding to see the ring and to know exactly when the wedding would be. 

She was not overly thrilled for the wedding to have become such a large spectacle, but Maria had been just as enthused as Dina had been, stating that there was a desperate need for something like this to boost town morale. Ellie had immediately declined their offers of throwing a party for them, she was suddenly aware of the twinkle in her fiancée’s eyes at the idea of wearing a pretty white dress and dancing the night away at the Bison, leaving her little choice but to agree.

She had to admit, her heart had never felt quite as content as it had when she first spotted Y/n striding towards her, dressed in a horribly ugly wedding dress that was probably found in the attic of one of the houses, her smile radiating nothing but happiness as she met Ellie underneath the large willow tree. 

Even now, watching her get passed around on the dancefloor, now wearing a simple white blouse and a pair of jeans that she had cut into shorts, but still as beautiful as ever. Ellie shook her head, letting out a large puff of smoke as a smile broke through her normally monotone expression.

A figure sidled up next to her, letting out a low whistle as they both stared through the large glass windows, eyes following the bride’s joyful movement closely, “I never got to say congratulations.”

She huffed a laugh, not taking her eyes away from her wife, “Thanks, I think I got pretty lucky.”

“You sure did. So did she,” Joel quipped, “You’re a real catch there, kid.”

“Please,” Ellie shook her head, “I’d be dead if it weren’t for her,” She was quiet for a beat before she continued, “And you.” 

“Now I don’t know about that…”

“Shut up,” She chuckled, “What you did…I was–am angry with you. You took my choice away from me.”

“I know,” He nodded, “And you’ll never know how sorry I am for making you feel that way, but I’ll never feel sorry for keeping you alive.”

She nodded, “I know. I both hate you and–”

He sighed when she paused, “I know kid, me too.”

Ellie turned her emerald gaze to the man, her vision growing fuzzy as tears gathered along her waterline, “I wish you could have been here.”

His figure seemed to begin to fade into the darkness, but his voice was clear and true, “Me too, baby girl.”

“Ellie?” Y/n’s voice drew her attention to the front door, where her bride was standing with curiosity on her face, “Everything okay, babe?”

When Ellie glanced back at the spot next to her, “Yeah, everything’s good.”

The girl came closer, a smile growing on her face. She wrapped her arms around her wife’s neck, playing with the wispy ends of her short auburn hair. Ellie had also dressed up for the occasion, wearing a youth sized button up top and a poorly-tied tie hanging around her neck, which had been loosened throughout the night, even more so as Y/n pressed her body against hers. Ellie’s long fingers dug into her fabric-covered hips, leaning her head forward to accept the kiss that was being offered to her forehead.

“What are you doing out here on your own?”

The redhead shrugged, “Just needed to get away for a second. It’s hot in there.”

Y/n nodded, plucking the joint up from where she had set in on the railing next to her and taking a long drag, “I know this isn’t really what you wanted, but it really does mean a lot that you put in some effort to enjoy it.”

“I did enjoy it,” Ellie responded, “Maybe not all of it, but I wouldn’t trade today for anything.”

She leaned forward, capturing her wife’s lips with her own in a long and slow kiss, a small moan vibrating through her throat at the taste of cheaply made whiskey and cake from her lips. 

“How much longer do I have to wait to get you in bed?” Ellie whined as they parted, earning a loud laugh from her wife’s lips. 

“A little longer,” She shrugged, “Maybe after you come in and dance with me.”

Y/n made a break for it, only glancing back at Ellie once before disappearing behind the doors of the bar, leaving Ellie alone on the front step. The auburn haired girl chuckled at her, mentally trying to figure out a way to get her out of the bar sooner rather than later. As she stalked towards the door, her ears perked up at the sound of the voice once more.

“I’m happy for you, kid.”

The figure did not appear when she turned to look over her shoulder, but she knew he was there, watching over her. He always would be. A small smile graced her lips, uttering one last sentence before pushing through the doors and allowing her wife to drag her onto the dancefloor.

“Thank you, Joel.”

#reader insert #x reader #imagines #lesbian #ellie williams x reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou

[spookychick78]

OG Michael Myers One Shot

Okay so hear me out. Michael Myers X Vampire but make it sexy.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, knife play, blood play, choking, biting, rough sex etc.

Word Count: 3,536

Something seemed off in his home that night. He stood in the foyer, knife in hand as he listened. There was no audible sound to give away the other presence that had hidden itself there, no shaky breath, no heartbeat. Yet, in the silence he knew he wasn't alone. He could feel it. His eyes moved up the stairs as he tilted his head. Though their stealth thus far was impressive, whoever it was couldn't hide forever. This was his home and he knew it better than any trespasser could hope to. Nowhere they chose to hide would keep them safe for long if he decided to come looking, but Michael wasn't one to play games. Unless of course, they were his own. He made the rules, especially here. He would wait, he could be patient. They'd reveal themselves sooner or later be it out of desperation, false sense of security, or just plain boredom. He wouldn't give them a choice. He would make them come to him. Yeah, he would win this game. After all, he always did.

Just as a contented smirk started to pull at his hidden lips, movement came from the shadows beside him. He slowly turned his head to see a woman step out of the darkness. She had an arrogance about her he didn't quite understand. The knife in his hand nor the mask on his face did little to scare away the cocky smile that spread across her face as she studied him.

"Hello Michael," she said softly.

He narrowed his eyes at her under his mask. The air about her suggested she thought she had the upper hand. How silly. He lunged forward and his hand went for her throat, but she caught his fist in her palm before he even had the chance to unravel his fingers. He strained against her, waiting for her arm to break from the pressure he applied, but she stayed unmoving. His strength didn't seem to phase her, she was as still as ever.

"So eager to end our game already?" She asked calmly as her hand gripped tighter around his own, "I thought you liked to play."

He wouldn't give in. He gritted his teeth to hold back the pained groan that threatened to escape his lips, anymore pressure and he was sure she would break bones. Still, he held firm in his stance and pushed back against her. He wasn't unaware of the ice cold feel of her skin either, it left quite a sting. She let out a quiet laugh at his unmatched determination. She knew this would be fun.

"I've been watching you, Michael," she whispered as she craned her neck up to get a glimpse of his eyes through that pale mask, "for quite some time."

Her gaze was so fixed on his eyes it almost made him uncomfortable. No one had ever dared look as long as she was, that is if they ever got close enough. Her wanton curiosity both infuriated and intrigued him at the same time. What knowledge had she gained whilst watching him and more importantly, why had she been watching him? She could tell he was growing curious, which was exactly what she wanted. She let her grip loosen and he took his opportunity to force her across the room into the wall. She had decided to let him win a little, she knew him well enough to know it was something he needed to keep his interest. She felt the tip of his knife at her naval, almost begging to break skin, but he kept it from entering. His other hand gripped her throat dangerously tight, but it mattered not. He could squeeze harder if he wanted to, she had no use for breath.

"Don't be shy," she said as her hands rested over his tight grip on the knife's handle, "do it."

He felt her force the knife forward slowly. Her skin tore around it's sharp tip as she granted it entry. He didn't like that she had taken such control over the situation so he took it back and swiftly. He plunged his knife into her as deep as it could go and what should have been a cry of agony sounded like an expression of pleasure. He tilted his head as he watched her smile when he twisted the blade within her.

"We're not so different, you and I," she started calmly as though the knife in her had no effect, "death means nothing to us and yet, it is the very nature of our existence."

He was growing incredibly frustrated at her elaborate way of aligning herself with him. He pulled his knife out only to plunge it back in again, harder this time. That only seemed to make her laugh.

"You don't seem to understand," she said before she quickly ripped the knife from his hand, "we are not meant to die."

His hand around her throat tightened enough to break bones, but not hers. She grabbed his wrist and without words, requested he release his grip. Naturally, he denied her so she resorted to force. He couldn't fathom that she had the strength to, but she was able to pry his hand from her neck and easily.

"You like death, Michael?" She asked as she brought the blade to her throat, "Then let me introduce her to you."

She dragged the knife sideways slowly along her skin and her blood turned the parts of her visible to him red. For the first time in his life, Michael watched in disbelief. Her throat was open before him and yet she was somehow still alive, looking back at him with a smile. What blew his mind further was that he could tell it wasn't that it didn't hurt her, it did and she liked it. She returned the knife that was now coated in her blood to him.

"You see, we are the same. Only your heart still beats, whereas mine," she said as she took his hand and placed it over her heart.

There was nothing. No unsteady beat to relish in, no quickened breath, just cold skin underneath his palm.

"You defy death in a different way, but we are both death's deliverers," she said as she brought his hand up to her open mouth.

Michael watched with unbridled curiosity as her gums retracted and her incisors grew exponentially. She kept her mouth agape and invited him to explore, just as he had hoped she would. He let his fingers brush over each of them, admiring just how sharp they really were. Just before he pulled away, he cut himself on one. She hummed with pleasure as she tasted his blood on her tongue. He noticed her eyes had changed, they now had an eerie orange glow. His favorite color. She was somehow paler than before, almost ghostly. He could really admire those fangs now that she was smiling again at his taste. She made quite a pretty picture with all that blood still dripping down her. The embodiment of death. Michael didn't realize he was capable of feeling desire, but something about that animalistic hunger in her eyes that his own blood had awakened made him want to explore her further, test her limits. She had no need for a weapon, her own body was that in of itself. He was beyond fascinated, which pleased her. She had him right where she wanted him.

"I've watched you kill and be killed. I've watched you die over and over and yet, your heart keeps beating, your blood keeps pumping. You hunger as I do. I kill to survive, but you," she flashed that eerie smile again as she let out a low laugh, "you don't need blood to live, you simply want it. Well, I want to understand you, Michael, but more than anything, I want to taste an immortal. I want to taste you."

She still held his hand in hers and he could tell the blood that steadily dripped from his finger was driving her to madness. He saw control within his grasp again and he wasn't going to let it go. He pulled his hand away from her and dismay began to spread over her face until he brought it back to her mouth. He ran his finger over her lips, coating them in his blood. She pulled her bottom lip into her mouth with her teeth and her eyes rolled back as she tasted him again. Her hands went up to hold his once more and he allowed her to.

"May I?" She asked softly.

He gave her nothing, but his silence was her green light. She dragged her tongue from his palm to the tip of his index finger, leaving no trace of blood behind. She then took it in her mouth. He felt her open the wound further with one of her teeth before she began to drink. He watched her body relax entirely once she tasted him again, more than before. He tasted different, just as she had expected, sweeter. The small amount he had allotted her satisfied her more than any other she had tasted before. Each drop was bliss and he could see it all over her. That pull he felt was strange, but euphoric all at once. It made him feel light, almost weightless. It gave him a rush unlike any other he had felt before and he let his head fall back as the feeling washed over him. Her eyes flickered open to see his neck was exposed to her. It was becoming incredibly difficult to control her hunger, he simply tasted too good. Then again, she wasn't sure she had to control herself. After all, that was why she sought him out. There was no risk of him dying. He was an endless supply of bliss for her, she just needed him to want her as much as she wanted him.

He could feel her growing needier as she sucked harder than before. He looked back down at her and saw she was watching him. Those orange eyes were filled with lust as they stayed glued to his neck. He smirked behind his mask before he pulled his finger away from her. She hissed at the sudden emptiness he left behind and her brow furrowed. He quickly grabbed her by the throat and pushed her back against the wall. It was his turn to explore her.

She laughed again, "You can't break me, Michael."

He pressed his body against hers with enough force to probably crush any normal being. She was so cold, he could feel her icy skin through his boiler suit, but it brought relief to his increasingly raised body heat. She was bringing sensations to the surface he had never felt before and he knew she was more than aware. She could feel it.

"Is that what you want?" She whispered up at him, "would you like to break me, Michael?"

He responded by squeezing her throat as tight as he could. He wanted to more than she knew and he could tell he wasn't alone in his desire. It felt fitting that he would give himself to death, or perhaps it was death who would give herself to him. The thought was enough to make his breath falter. He wanted those teeth in him again and he wanted her against the wall where she belonged with her cold legs wrapped around him.

"Then break me," she said in an almost hypnotizing tone.

With his other hand he ripped his mask off so he could press his lips to hers. It was almost like kissing stone. She was so cold and firm. Unbreakable. If he was going to have a lover, she would have to be, because Michael knew nothing of self control. At least not when it came to killing, he could only imagine sex would be no different. She didn't ask for his self control, she didn't need it. She was perfectly matched to him, made for him. He wasn't quite sure how such a thing had landed in his grasp, but he wasn't about to let it slip. She was his now, whether she had asked to be or not. She was his to do with just as he pleased. She may have been physically unbreakable, but Michael would find other ways to break her, it was what he was good at and she would love every second of it. One thing was already very much in his control. She had given him that leash to hold without even realizing it.

He felt her clamoring to pull his boiler suit back as her lips wandered from his own and down to his neck. He knew what she was doing, he could feel those sharp teeth grazing his exposed skin and he allowed her to continue until he felt her self control slip. Just before she could sink into him he shoved her back against the wall to remind her that his blood was his to give when, and only when, he chose to. He was in control and he had every intention to make her beg. That was her leash and he held that power in his hands as he always did. She lunged forward again and he only pushed her back harder, so hard the wooden walls of the Myers' house behind her broke. She didn't even flinch, instead she smiled in amusement. It only added to his enthusiasm about the situation. He freed his arms from his boiler suit and promptly tore her blood soaked dress from her body. He watched, amused as she took care of the rest of her clothing. Her body was unlike any other he had seen. Flawless, in his eyes and probably anyone else's if they saw. Though, other eyes were no longer a concern, he would be her only admirer. He noticed the stab wound he had dealt her was missing as if it had never happened. She really would be his plaything.

Once she had discarded the last of the cloth covering her, she was on him again. Her lips met his with more force than before. She was intent on showing him just how strong she really was and he was intent on finding out. He felt her nip at his bottom lip as she kissed him and heard her moan when the smallest bit of blood met her tongue. He lifted her up so she could wrap her now bare legs around him and once he was sure she wouldn't fall, he tangled his fingers in her hair. He yanked her head back so her neck was exposed to him this time. He let his lips brush over her icy skin, then his teeth. He was gentle at first as he peppered kisses along her jugular, then he began to experiment. He nipped at her and relished in those pained hisses she let out, though he knew she liked it. If she liked his blade cutting her skin, surely she would enjoy his teeth just the same and he wanted to taste her just as she had him. He bit down and her blood quickly spilled for him. Once he'd had a taste, he pulled back so he could admire the way it poured over her pale skin and the way his bite mark disappeared just so he could leave another in it's place. Despite his tight grip on her hair, she forced her head back down so she could look at him once more. Though it was dark she could make out some of his features. He had dark, curly brown hair, a strong jaw and very serious brows atop dark eyes, but despite his intensity, he had an almost angelic appearance in the shadows. Though, she knew he was no angel. She saw that well enough in his eyes. She saw what he wanted to do to her and it made her body tremble with anticipation. She felt his hands gripping her bare waist so tightly it would have torn mortal flesh. He didn't want to wait any longer, he wanted to claim her as his own, body and, if she had one, soul. She slid her legs down and once her feet found the floor below her, she pushed him to the ground. The floorboards bent around him from the force and he went to push himself up, but before he could she was on top of him. He knew that smirk on her face was because she knew this wasn't how things were going to go, at least not for long. He grabbed hold of her thighs and stopped her from taking him. She could do as she pleased other than that. That was something he would give to her when he felt she deserved it. She met his lips again, sloppily this time as she kissed down his body and let her nails drag on his skin above her head as she got lower and lower. He stifled the groans that we're building within him as he felt her cold lips press against the lowest possible part of his naval. She was careful not to give him what he wanted, that was her leash to hold, at least that's what she thought. As if he'd read her mind, he put a stop to that right away. He wasn't one to be teased. He sat up and grabbed her by her throat to put her on the ground. He not only loved that he could hear the sound of the house being utterly destroyed each time he threw her, but that she could take it. He pinned her underneath him where she belonged and threw her legs around his waist so he could align himself with her. He didn't waste another second to drive himself into her. He felt her nails dig into his back as he took what he wanted. He was surprised to find it came naturally to him, he knew exactly what he wanted to do and how he was going to do it. His hand returned to her throat to bring her up to him so she could take what she wanted. He needed her to now, he wanted that rush from before combined with the feeling of how tight she was around him. He wanted her to drink from him and as much as she wanted. He knew she understood, he watched her tongue glide over her sharp fangs before she latched onto his neck. That rush washed over him instantly and he picked up his pace while he held her head in place. He was unable to control the moans that fell from his lips as she drank from him and deeply. She was glad he held her in place because she could barely hold herself up. Each time he pushed into her he hit a spot that made her head spin. He may have been inexperienced, but he was bringing her closer and closer to her climax with every move he made. Her fingers reached down in desperation, she was almost there, she just needed friction on that other sweet spot he had yet to discover. He caught her hand and quickly replaced it with his own, but allowed her to show him what she wanted. He caught on fast and soon enough she could barely focus on drinking him anymore. Though he tasted so good, what he was doing to her was somehow even better. She unlatched her teeth from him and her head fell back as her orgasm washed over her. He watched her face contort in an almost pained expression as her body grew tighter around him. Though he wanted her to continue feeding off of him, watching her face was equally as intoxicating. Watching what he was doing to her, what he was making her feel, it was enough to send him spiraling. Pleasure more intense than any he had ever felt took over, but he didn't stop. She held onto him tight enough to draw blood with her finger nails as he spilled into her. He buried his face in her neck as he rode out his orgasm, letting himself be more vocal than he ever had been in all his life. The sound of him falling apart brought her to the edge once again, which only made him continue. He felt her go limp in his arms as her body reveled in the pleasure he had brought her once again. He removed his face from her neck to look at her. She had her eyes closed and her neck was still craned back as she whispered his name to herself. He wondered if maybe that was all she could take, if maybe he had found her breaking point after all. He started to slow his pace, which only made a smile spread across her face again.

"Did you think we were finished?" She asked cockily.

When she lifted her head to meet his gaze, he smirked. He hadn't broken her yet, so he'd just have to keep trying.

#michael myers #halloween #slasher #michael myers x reader #michael myers smut #slasher smut #vampire #vampire smut #horror #fanfic #one shot #og michael myers #halloween 1978 #horror fiction #slasherfic #michael audrey myers #the bogeyman #the shape #horror smut #slasher fucker #shameless slasher simp

[non-un-topo]

queer quartet prompt: arm wrestling in ye olde pub 👀

fghfdsfg thank you Rae, this one was so much fun!!

“What’s happening over here?”

Having sensed Andromache’s presence far across the stuffy, dimly lit pub, Quỳnh only had to open her hand for a wooden tankard to then be placed there. She smiled in thanks, and linked her arm with Andromache’s the moment her lover exchanged hands to lift her own ale to her lips. Because if she did not lock her in, Quỳnh knew she would go running across the floor towards the growing crowd in a heartbeat.

“Oh, Athena’s tits,” Andromache sighed, as expected. Quỳnh chortled into her ale, sending foam spraying into her eye.

“I leave for a moment,” continued Andromache, “and they’ve caught the attention of the entire pub!”

Quỳnh politely did not comment on her ancient lover’s resemblance to a grouchy crone.

“You know how they get when inhibitions are lowered,” she said. She felt rather comfortable from where she stood and watched, to be honest. There was never a dull moment with their little undying troupe.

Ahead, a crowd of sweaty patrons were challenging the sticky summer heat to cram in together around a small table. As voices raised and cheered, ale splashed to the warped wooden floor around them. It was an awfully intense scene for what was going on. That was, of course, the boys — Yusuf and Nicolò — engaged in an arm wrestling match that definitely did not require that much eye contact.

Their hands were steady — they rarely ever shook — but with their left hands they each gripped the sides of the little table with such force Quỳnh honestly expected it to fly off its wobbly legs. If that be the case, she knew, they’d just continue to wrestle until one of them lost or they got… distracted.

Judging by the subtle break of eye contact as Nicolò dropped his gaze down to the wide open collar of Yusuf’s shirt and Yusuf’s eyes focused on Nicolò’s bicep under his rolled-up sleeve, Quỳnh did not expect it would take long from there.

“They’ve been holding on a while,” she praised, in any case. Naturally, given the number of years they’d both spent swinging swords around. There was really only one way to end this game quickly, hence the reason she still had Andromache’s arm trapped in her own.

“Release me,” Andromache commanded, of course.

Quỳnh snorted and tugged her closer. “Why should I? Perhaps we can ask these friendly patrons to place bets, and then we can purchase all the ale we want tonight!”

“You make a fair argument…”

“Of course I do, I carry the brains of this entire family.”

Andromache attempted to playfully stamp on her foot but Quỳnh dodged her boot with ease, taking a measured sip of her ale and exclaiming a pleased, “Aah,” at the taste.

“Tired?” Nicolò asked then, in his low voice. Oh, that tone. Perhaps this game would end sooner than Quỳnh thought. “You could always let go and end this now.”

“Never,” hissed Yusuf. Sweat poured down his temple like liquid gold in the candlelight. Quỳnh watched as he flexed his fingers, gripping Nicolò’s hand somehow tighter.

“I think they are playing the stranger game,” muttered Quỳnh, in Andromache’s ear. Andromache startled herself with a laugh, then turned it into a frustrated groan.

A man in the crowd shouted something, rooting for Yusuf it sounded like, and others joined, mugs raising over their heads. The very air about them smelled of sweat and tension.

Yusuf grinned then, showing teeth. “Sounds like you’re losing, handsome thing.” Then he winked.

With a resigned Alright, Andromache downed the last of her ale and tossed the tankard to the floor — for which Quỳnh would later scold her. After all, people did not live like barbarians anymore, Andromache. But in the moment, Quỳnh hid her shocked laugh in her mug and watched with wide eyes as Andromache stalked up to the table, sleeves rolled up to her armpits.

The crowd quieted as she loomed over the table and, after a swift glance over each of their faces, Andromache looked down at the boys and declared, “Allow me to show you what real strength looks like.”

They let go, ending the match just like that, and they both looked up at her with wide, pleading eyes.

Yusuf raised his hands. “Now wait, Androma—”

But it was too late for him. Quỳnh sipped on as Andromache seized his hand and tensed every muscle in her body. Yusuf cried out, more of a squawk really, as Andromache slammed his hand to the table in a matter of seconds. The crowd exclaimed in shock.

As poor Yusuf rubbed his bicep and shouted very dramatically for Nicolò to flee, Nicolò stood from his chair with a wooden screech. Andromache did not spare him the same honour — instead, she simply took him by the arm and with a great, steady huff she flipped him over the table.

The silence that followed was so stark, Quỳnh could hear the delicate little tinkle of a man pissing himself across the room.

The boys scooted towards each other on the floor, a little shaken and rosy-cheeked. Quỳnh simply finished the last of her ale and nodded to herself, accepting the craziness of her little family.

Affectionately, and certainly out of place to the patrons watching but perfectly in place to Quỳnh’s eyes, Andromache ruffled the boys’ hair. She raised her hands then, speaking to the crowd,

“Drinks are on me!”

#sage writes #tog #the old guard #ficlet #the old gays #don't! draw! attention to yourselves boys!! #i hope i didn't make andy too mean sdfgfd sometimes she has to lay the rules down but she loves them #anyway idk why i'm in a goofy silly mood but i guess i'm in a goofy silly mood #you KNOW how to access that part of my brain with the queer quartet and old pubs/taverns #absolute tomfoolery the lot of them

[alittlextrathatway]

I got another prompt from Sand86802 on twitter.

Posting it here again since it isn’t quite long enough for Ao3.

Played with Violet’s POV on this one. Set in a post 11x22 world.

***

“Never take advice from someone who’s falling apart”

+

Location: The El

***

It’s been a while since Sylvie and Violet spent time together off shift. Even longer since Violet spent any considerable time in the presence of both Brett and Casey at the same time.

Tonight, they had an extra ticket to a concert Sylvie had been dying to attend for a Taylor Swift cover band that reimagined the singer’s work in big band or jazz styles. Violet isn’t a swiftie, but she’s always up for new experiences so she took the extra ticket. Originally, she thinks Casey’s sister was supposed to go with them, but she canceled for some reason. Some sort of teaching emergency.

To top it all off, this concert was a part of Brett’s birthday celebration. Her first birthday as a mom and her first time away from Julia for longer than a couple of hours since the baby officially became hers a handful of weeks ago. Confidentially, Casey confided in Violet that he wanted it to be special and so full that Sylvie never had a moment to feel anxious over leaving Julia with Cindy and Herrmann for the evening.

Violet admired his ambition and effort. Even though, in her heart of hearts, she knew no one could stop Sylvie from feeling anxious about leaving her daughter alone.

They’re on their way to the show now. They opted to take the El to save on the parking fee and time spent jammed up in traffic. Violet sits on one side of Brett with Casey on the other.

The recently engaged couple is sickeningly cute. Casey’s arm is slung over Sylvie’s shoulders, pulling her against him. She went willingly, slotting against him as if she was always meant to be there with her back molding to his side and her head resting in the crook of his neck. Casey turns so he can rest his lips against the crown of Sylvie’s head, kissing her sweetly.

Looking at them now, a person would never guess they’d ever been apart.

The train stops and the doors open, allowing a pregnant woman and her toddler to board. They all clock her as she enters the car and, like her, notice there aren’t any available seats.

Casey kisses Brett’s temple and then releases her. “I’m gonna go hold the rail over by the door and let this woman have my seat.”

“You’re amazing,” Sylvie praises, nodding approvingly.

“Let’s not get carried away,” he says with a fond chuckle. “I’m not a saint. It’s just the polite and decent thing to do.”

Sylvie watches him cross the train and point out his vacated seat to the woman with a besotted smile on her face before she scoffs and glances over at Violet. “Not a saint. Of course he’s a saint. I mean, look at him.”

Violet chuckles mutely, watching as the pregnant woman thanks Matt profusely and waddles her way toward them. “I see him. He’s great.”

“I can’t believe I ever thought I could do without him,” she says with a contented sigh. “I mean, what was I thinking? No one holds a candle to that man over there. Not for me anyway.”

Violet bites her bottom lip, an apology slowly clawing its way up her throat. She’s held it at bay so far, but her guilt grows larger every day. Even quicker than normal during the rare instances she’s directly confronted with how truly happy Matt makes her best friend these days.

Sylvie and Dylan were never going to work out. Not when Sylvie’s connection to Matt is as strong as it’s proven to be. Violet should have seen that sooner.

“I’m happy for you, bestie,” Violet says, linking her arm through Sylvie’s. “Since he came back into your life you’ve done nothing but glow.”

“Thank you.” Sylvie lays her head on Violet’s shoulder affectionately. “I felt like a part of me shut down after I broke it off with him. Like losing touch with him meant losing a piece of my heart. I should’ve known then that ending it was a mistake.”

That does it. Violet can’t hold off her apology any longer. Sylvie’s right. She should’ve seen it and she probably would have too if Violet hadn’t interfered.

“I should’ve known it too,” she says, sighing tiredly. “They way I kept pushing you toward Dylan…God, looking back I was so selfish, Sylvie. I’m sorry.”

“What? No, Violet, my struggles with my emotions aren’t on you. Matt and I had things we should’ve dealt with sooner and we ignored them. That’s on us. All you wanted was to see me happy. I get that.”

No, she really doesn’t. “It wasn’t just about you being happy though.”

Sylvie’s smile turns bittersweet. Her expression is empathetic and all knowing. It’s a look from her that’s potent on anyone, even perfect strangers. When Brett gives someone that look, they feel encouraged to spill all their secrets and struggles.

“I know,” Sylvie replies. “It’s okay. Grief manifests itself in all kinds of ways.”

“Dylan and Evan were friends and I guess I—I guess—“

“You wanted to hold onto that piece of him for as long as possible?”

“Yeah,” Violet agrees. “That’s a good way to phrase it. It goes to show you, never take advice from someone who’s falling apart. I was still spiraling hard when we first bumped into Dylan at the hospital. At the time, I thought all the pieces fit, you know? I know now I saw only what I wanted to see. I sent you a long way down the wrong path.”

“I started down that path long before we ran into Dylan, Violet,” Sylvie states, gently correcting her. “Cut yourself some slack. You were still reeling. I know what that can do to a person. Hell, I moved back home and intended to marry a man I barely knew after we lost Otis. My grief over him kept me from realizing I’d made the wrong choice for far too long. If anyone gets it, it’s me. It all worked out in the end. I have Matt, Julia, and the boys. I’m happier than I’ve been in a very long time. That’s all that matters.”

“I guess so.” She wishes she could say the same but, while she’s through the worst of her grief, she’s far from happy.

“You’re gonna find that too, partner,” Sylvie assures her, as if she’s read Violet’s mind. “I know it. No matter what that happiness looks like for you, I am certain it’ll happen. You’re the best so you deserve the best.”

No, Sylvie’s the best. The amount of grace she extends to everyone around her is practically miraculous. “I already have the best friend I could ask for,” Violet says, giving Sylvie a pointed look. “And that’s all the happiness I need for now.”

As cheesy as it sounds, it’s a truth Violet feels deep in her bones. Sylvie’s friendship will always be the gift that keeps on giving.

#brettsey #matt casey x sylvie brett #sylvie brett #matt casey #violet mikami #prompt fic #my fic #angellwings writes

[copperbadge]

I am older than you and have two kids with ADHD, and the more you talk about it, the more I am starting to suspect Things about myself.

Crazy how that works, huh :D

There is probably a book's worth, or several thousand dollars of therapy's worth, of content about the way in which we see these things around us without seeing them touch us. It really is a strong argument for moving away from the idea of default states of being. Like, it's not as though someone ever said to you (or at least to me) "Oh you're neurotypical.” It's just we're all assumed to be that way until discovering we aren't.  

My siblings were diagnosed with learning disabilities extremely young, but that simply codified me as "the neurotypical one" in part because I had hit all the developmental milestones super early, while my brother in particular missed a lot of his and my sister had classic dyslexia plus the advantage of a family who were already accustomed to one neurodiverse child. We really spun the wheel in terms of brain chemistry, did my family. My mother was diagnosed in her forties; by then my father had passed but it became evident as we watched my brother grow up that he was exactly like Dad. 

But it still didn't occur to me that my issues were cognitive because until you deviate from the default you are the default. Even though the default, for my entire family, is not the cultural default. I didn't deviate far enough, and I was already “typical” by the time my siblings came along to indicate “not typical”.

So I, like you, just had this assumed identity, and it took someone interacting with me with the assumption that I had a diagnosis to make me consider otherwise. Which isn't a failing on the part of any one person; it is cultural, and was even more so when I was growing up in the 1980s. (Maybe that one teacher’s fault, just a little; maybe I’m being harsh on her.) If we didn't have that assumed default, someone might have looked at my family and said, a lot sooner, "Hey...should we talk about Sam?"

It is rough to be forty two years old and “no longer” (never-was) typical. Gratifying in some ways and I’m doing okay with it, but it makes you reassess not just your life but all your other labels, too. You get told a lot in youth, or at least I was, that it’s okay not to be normal because normal isn’t real, but most kids know there is an amorphous conceptual “normal” and deviation from it can have severe consequences. So you never really get told to ask yourself if you’re normal and if not, how not. Because why risk becoming an outlier? I certainly wasn’t going to. So I internalized normal as best I could, and now I’m gonna have to unpick that tapestry. Which I’m trying to do here so others like you can, too, perhaps.  

Anyway, good luck on the journey wherever it leads you! And if it leads you to "I'm okay as I am" that is as fine as if it leads you to "Hey, Adderall's a hell of a drug" as it has for me. :D

#sam has adhd

[veiledfox]

An Experiment Most Marvelous [ II ]

"Sixty feet, twenty meters. Lady Kyuushi has reached the depth necessary for her to suffer the effects of the Curse of the Abyss. According to the notes she shared with me from her prior experiments, she experiences the earlier effects of the Curse sooner and sooner with each layer. After her experience with the Fifth's Curse, she should be experiencing the dizziness and nausea of the First upon first beginning her ascent."

Hotaru spoke clear, precise, aloud. Keeping information clear and understandable for the Sovreign behind her. Monitoring the Kitsune's vitals every second, eyes darting from reading to reading quickly. Heart rate elevated a little higher than normal, cortisol still high, oxygen in her blood slowly draining. Everything was fine otherwise so far.

"It's admirable that Lady Kyuushi took such thorough notes of her experience with the Curse. No one would willingly put themselves through the pain it can cause just to understand how it effects them in our 'Realm' as you two call it." Bondrewd spoke up to comment in compliment.

"Lady Kyuushi also asked that you remain quiet. I need to focus and keep watch on her vitals." A slight hint of annoyance in the Doll's otherwise polite tone. Glancing to the distance between her and the Kitsune, seeing it start to be reduced. Immediately catching her heart rate and cortisol both rising further. "She's ascending."

"Fifty feet. Second Layer Curse." Another rise in her heartrate and cortisol. Nothing too alarming still, thankfully, but the more it climbed the closer it got to being dangerous. Even for a Kitsune, who could normally handle much more extreme vitals than Humans could. Hotaru's eyes were glued to the conjured display, keeping track of everything.

"Fourty feet, her ascent is slowing a little. Third Layer Curse." Looking over the readings, her cortisol had thankfully seemed to lower some, but her heartrate kept at the increased pace. Other readings showing hints of odd brain activity and... a hint of dopamine? Whatever was going on, she was growing curious. Though she kept her focus, and she could sense the Sovreign was getting more and more invested in what was happening too, hearing his boots shuffle a bit and a deep long hum.

"Thirty feet. Fourth Layer Curse... Hemoglobin starting to fall... she's bleeding somewhere. It's minor right now thankfully, and... fluctuating? Lady Kyuushi must be using active healing Magicks." The instant she said such a word, the Doll could hear Bondrewd perk up with interest.

"Magic?"

"Yes, Magic, it's a very natural thing in our Realm and Kitsune's generate large quantities of it. Their Magic also becomes stronger the more tails they have. Regenerative capabilities included in their natural repitoir, they reach their peak in such field throughout their seventh, eigth, and ninth tails. Lady Kyuushi, possessing eight of her nine, seems to be utilizing her healing to fend off the effects of the Curse as much as she can."

"Marvelous..."

"Twenty feet. Fifth Layer Curse. Sensory Deprivation should be kicking in about now according to known knowledge of the curse and her notes. Her ascent has slowed to a stop..." Heartrate rising, cortisol climbing again, brain firing off in panic and fear, adrenaline surging through her system. Hotaru could see it all, see how her body was working, fighting against the Curse to continue. "Slow ascent, oxygen starting to run low."

Worry was starting to truly take hold of the Doll seeing the state the Kitsune was in begin deteriorating so quickly. Shifting on her feet, starting to tap a foot on the ground below her, even raising a hand to gnaw at a knuckle a bit. She knew Kyuushi was capable, but this...? Even this was starting to look too dangerous for her.

"Ten feet." Glancing ever so quickly down to the water in front of her, catching sight of bubbles rising to the surface then returning immediately back to the vitals. "Sixth Layer Curse... theoretically..." Kyuushi's status just got worse and worse the more she watched on. Heart rate climbing dangerously high, oxygen and hemoglobin dropping, Kyuushi was somehow still ascending though.

At least, she was. A sudden spike in heartrate and surge in brain activity making the vitals display flash red. Hotaru, immediately, moves to the water's edge to look down into the waters. Bubbles, countless bubbles rising from the Kitsune who, from what it seemed, was within five feet of the surface.

Getting down onto the ground, Hotaru lays herself out flat on her front reaching a hand deep into the water, up to her shoulder, trying to reach for Kyuushi. Calling upon some of her own Magic to extend an ethereal grasp for the Kitsune, feeling around until suddenly he feels an arm. Quickly grabbing on, she uses all her strength to pull the Woman up and out of the water.

Once she had her out of the waters, though, the Kitsune's screaming became clear right away. Horrid, blood curdling, loud. Her body convulsing, twitching, twisting this way and that, Hotaru struggled to move her much further from the waters with it all. Though before the could start attempting to do anything to help her charge, blue flames would suddenly erupt around her, not mere ethereal fire, but true and proper flame.

A pyre, a pillar of blue raging fire, all from Kyuushi's body as it writhes and contorts. The Doll and the Lord of Dawn witness to the pillar climbing higher and higher, growing brighter and brighter, and the searing heat it was giving off. It would be difficult to see through the flames with how bright they were getting, but within was still Kyuushi.

The Kitsune, who's body was creaking, groaning, snapping. Her form starting to shift rapidly and uncontrollably. Her Human guise dropping and giving way to her true Humanoid figure, Kitsune and Oni features both clear as day. Her body shrinking down and changing to her true form. Figure shifting and bending to any and all states that it could possibly take between them.

Skin splitting and healing time and again, bones snaping and setting, hair and fur growing longer, falling out in patches, and regrowing. Limbs twisting in ways they shouldn't, fingers bending impossibly, blood that was being spilled burning away almost instantly upon leaving her body within the inferno. Nothing that was happening should've been possible. It was horrid to watch, but it was all that Hotaru could do, watch on as the Woman who had commissioned her creation broke over and over. As her body degraded, regenerated, and changed.

The Curse of the Sixth layer was anything but a joke, this was cruel, terrifying. She didn't even want to attempt imagining what this could do to a regular person from this Realm. Yet the Man standing just meters away had subjected people to this for his experiments? If not for her concern for Kyuushi, Hotaru felt as if she could tear the foul 'Scientist' limb from limb for what he had been doing.

Between the screams of excrutiating pain, the roaring blue pyre, and the disturbing cackling that had begun from the Sovreign of Dawn, she could hardly hear the high pitched whine starting and stopping from the vitals display. Once they had registered in her mind though, her attention was drawn to the readings. To a heartrate flatlining, spiking into such a rapid pace, evening out, and fluctuating wildly between the three states without any rhyme or reason. To brain activity that was flaring across every part of the mind and other readings registering as errors impossible to track.

She was dying, but at the same time she was fine? A disturbing limbo between life and death that was tearing her body appart while it fought to keep itself together at the same time. This level of healing Magicks though, it shouldn't be possible, not for a Kitsune with eight tails, or even a Kitsune with nine. Not from what Hotaru had researched of healing Magicks. Ancient or modern, it didn't matter which, nothing was as strong as this save for the most powerful artifacts in their World.

Whatever was keeping Kyuushi alive, it couldn't have been her own Magicks. Not at the rate this was going, there was no way she was conscious enough to control her Magick like this. She wanted to wonder what it was, what was keeping her from perishing, but right now all she could bring herself to care for was whether she would survive in the end.

All the while the Lord of Dawn seemed to be thriving as he watched this all unfold. His laughter never ending as he approaches the pillar of flame, arms outstretched as he seems to take in the raging heat it was putting out. "Marvelous! Truly marvelous!" He shouts over it all. "The Abyss demands it's sacrifice! Even from a being not of our world! Yet it can't seem to claim it's demanded life, the Abyss is being denied! What will relent first, I wonder?! The Abyss?! Or our dear Lady Kyuushi?!"

It was almost as if the White Whistle had given a command to the Abyss, as mere seconds would pass after he speaks before everything suddenly calms. The raging pyre becoming reduced from the inferno it had become to a mere enveloping flame as the Kitsune's body goes still. The wildly fluctuating readings on the conjured display stabilizing. Heartrate weak, brain activity low, but the Kitsune was alive.

Turning her attention back to the Woman herself, Hotaru hurries to her side. Carefully reaching toward the still flame-enveloped Mythos, the fires were still warm, but not painfully so anymore. Easing her hand into the flame... ethereal, safe to reach into and touch Kyuushi. Which she would, reaching for the Woman's shoulder to oh so gently turn her over.

Humanoid form again, as she had been when this experiment began. Though her inhuman features were present now, as her Human guise had been undone amid everything that was happening. Beyond checking the Woman's body for any remaining injuries, she would take in and make note of anything that had changed from before.

Looking carefully over her features, her Oni horns looked... longer? They had stood at the same height as her ears, an added six inches above the top of her head, originally. Now they appeared to be twice the length, and to curl further back over the head. Still a shallow curve, but certainly more noticeable now. The blue gradient of skin on her forehead having spread, now reaching down to her brows suggesting it was the entire top of her head now this coloration.

Carefully prying an eye lid open, her sclera were black now instead of white, bloodshot, pupils vacant in her unconscious state. Easing her jaw open, her teeth seemed fine, though her canines seemed sharper now. The Vestigial Oni fangs longer, more prominent, like a secondary set of canines. Continuing her examination of the Kitsune with the sides of her head, briefly feeling the back, then continuing along her neck toward her torso.

Noticing quickly all the fresh wounds healing over, dark marks across her body as the flesh recovers bit by bit. Pressing gently at various spots along her collar, chest, abdomen, and stomach. Her muscular structure seemed more... defined? She took only a quick glance to Kyuushi's arms, only needed a quick glance, to notice the blue gradient that had been crawling up her hands was now farther up her arms too. From what she could see through the sleeves of her shirt, it reached her elbows now.

Had the Curse... given her a 'blessing' instead? Did it utilize her Oni genetics to do so? Her claws were even longer now, larger and sharper too. Yet... if this was the 'blessing' she was given, why was it so different from what transformation Bondrewd had experienced? Why did it leave her so intact and relatively unchanged? Did her adaptation perhaps finally take hold amid everything?

Ever so carefully she would turn Kyuushi onto her side and rested against her knees briefly, moving a hand to retrieve her tails and pull them out from under her. First to count them, then to check their condition. Though right away she could feel that they were heavier, longer, and their core seemed thicker. Their fur longer too, a strange mix of soft and rough, denser for sure.

One, two, three from the central base.

Four, five, six from the right base.

Seven, eight, nine from the left base.

Nine tails. The experiment was an ordeal severe enough to grant the Kitsune her last tail. At only one year past her first century too. It made the Doll worry what the future may have in store for the Kitsune, for her to have her nine tails just past her first century. In what little record of Kitsune history still existed in their Realm, not one notable Kitsune had their full set of tails this soon, and most the population had simply just gained their tails over time, back when their population was more abundant.

It didn't seem Kyuushi was going to wake any time soon, however, nor did she expect that she would. Though with her condition having stabilized, and her healing Magicks clearly subconsciously working to repair whatever damage she was still suffering from, it would surely just take time. Time best spent in the Shrine Lands, instead of here in the cold dark depths of the Abyss under the Sovreign of Dawn's ever present gaze.

"Marvelous!" His damned voice rising again, hands clapping together in applause. His boots clacking against the stone as he makes approach. "The Abyss is defeated! Lady Kyuushi yet lives, and though minor... it does appear she has experienced some changes. I do wonder if she has received the Abyss' blessing in this endeavor. Though I suppose we won't be able to tell unless she awakens and returns to test the Curse again. I would most certainly enjoy being present for such experimentation, whenever it may occur."

Hotaru, hardly paying him any mind, had started to cautiously ease her arms under Kyuushi to get a proper hold and lift her. Carrying her sideways across both arms, held closely and securely to her so she could move back over to where the Kitsune's belongings had been set down. Easing down with her so that she could retrieve everything, setting it in the Woman's lap to be able to bring it with them as she stands again.

"I will be sure to inform her of your... disturbing interest in her suffering." She responds finally, malice on her tongue as she glares back at the White Whistle. "But in her current state, Lady Kyuushi needs rest and care. Good day, Lord of Dawn." Taking a step as a tear opens in reality, letting her step through and closing shut behind her. Leaving Bondrewd on his own, looking over the scorched space where Kyuushi had been while her body was ravaged by the Curse.

The Doll carefully stepping out under the Tori at the center of the lake onto the surface of the water below. Quickly starting to make way back to the homestead atop the white sands to the left. To return Kyuushi to her room, her bed, so that she may rest and be cared for as needed.

#The Kitsune {Kyuushi} #The Dolls {Hotaru and Hoshi} #Veiled Legends {Story} #Truths Among Myths {Headcanons}

[teenageheartthrob]

Final Exit- Part 1 (Stucky x Reader)

Series Summary: Bucky is injured during a mission. It's up to you and Steve to rescue him, but is it too late?

Category: Angst, fluff

Ship: Steve x Reader x Bucky (Stucky x Reader)

Trigger Warnings: Injury, mentions of death, guns and violence.

Word Count 1.2 k

----------

Time was simultaneously slowed and sped up as James Buchanan Barnes felt the burning of exhaustion in his lungs.

He realised later as his senses began to return that the bastards had managed to land hits just shy of their targets, including in the muscles of his only flesh shoulder. 

Naturally. 

“You’re such a cliche,” you would have said if you could have seen him. Steve would have his arms wrapped around your shoulders, his kiss only making your warm smile grow.

A violent shiver coursed through Bucky’s body, causing him to realise the deep ache he felt in his bones was the onset of hypothermia. He needed to find shelter, and soon. 

‘Odd,’ he thought, ‘how land so beautiful could be the sight of such horror.’

He was still in Russia as far as he knew. But trying to evade a hail of bullets tends to cause each tree to look the same as the last. 

The fire in front of Bucky hissed, a consequence of a short winter. Ice was melting from the branches and crisp snow turned to mush under the soldier’s boots. 

“Run,” he remembered telling them, “go!”

And he had run the other way. It occurred to Bucky in that moment that even though his mind was his again, he was still making decisions that he didn’t understand. 

His sensitive hearing caught the howl of a far off creature and he suddenly realised how exposed he had become, fire burning as it was. Retreating into the canopy of icy green beside him, Barnes doused his fire, silently hoping for a miracle to get him through the night. 

He knew it had been two days. Through everything, he could at least remember the sunrises and sunsets, alerting him to each passing hour.

Everything went wrong on that mission, the kids weren’t supposed to be there. 

A combination of chattering teeth and memories from that day caused Bucky to wince. Somehow the HYDRA fanatics had outsmarted Stark’s technology. According to them, the building was empty, or at least it should have been.

…

Bucky woke with a sudden start. He didn’t remember closing his eyes. Another painted sky greeted him and he hoped that he’d only managed to sleep through the night. 

His body fought him as he tried to move, and staring at the sky, he decided maybe resting for a while wasn’t the worst idea. 

Watching the colours dance over the horizon, you consumed Bucky’s thoughts. He wished, under different circumstances, that you were with him watching this. You felt connected to nature in a way no one else Bucky had ever met did, and the happiness it bought you had spread to him and Steve. 

A thought crept up on the brunet as he thought of home - that of not returning to it. 

Best chance, he figured, was that he had been gone three days. Which meant that the time his body would survive without food, water, medical care or shelter was fast approaching it’s end.

Melting snow helped to quench his thirst but without rations or a dry place to sleep, Bucky knew he didn’t have much longer. 

And as he forced himself to continue his journey, he knew that time was coming sooner than he’d like. 

‘I’m a soldier, I know what dying feels like,’ his consciousness reminded him. 

Despite the daily threat of destruction to himself and all that he loved, Bucky Barnes had never really thought about what he would want if he didn’t make it home one day.

When you’re the only thing standing between millions of innocents and the end of the world, thinking of death more than you had to often caused more harm than good. He’d seen much happier thoughts break much tougher people. 

Bucky supposed that he would want to be buried. He had always been sceptical of a divine entity but figured there must be something beyond death. For all that he’d seen in his long life, he found it almost impossible for their not to be.

He hoped that a burial might bring his partners closure. It would give you a place to still come and see him, if you would even want to after he was gone. He knew Steve would need a spot to attach him to, he couldn’t keep going otherwise.

“It just wouldn’t feel the same” Steve said. 

…

Burnt auburn flooded Bucky’s vision and he was scared shitless by how much he didn’t want to keep going, clambering towards safety.  

Every part of himself that he could still feel, felt like it was on fire. 

The brunet knew he would be dragging himself, clawing and raking, towards his destination. 

Flexing his fingers, Bucky had some new-found appreciation for his metal arm. 

“The clearing in the middle,” the captain had told everyone, “meet there if anything goes wrong.” Blue eyes had glanced towards the blond’s partners and you’d whispered to Bucky that you ‘weren’t going to get any breathing room on this mission with Steve acting like that.’

Funny, Bucky had argued with him about that so many times. Steve had always had an overdeveloped sense of protectiveness towards the two of you, or maybe it was just love.

“We can handle ourselves, focus on yourself. You’re not invincible either, Rogers.” He had no idea how many times he’d said that line, but, god, what he wouldn’t give to say it again. 

The little adrenaline Bucky could produce coursed through his frozen veins as he caught himself fading in and out of consciousness.

There was a small hut in the distance, and the brunet’s dying mind couldn’t quite figure out why it looked so familiar…

…

The solider’s ears woke before any other part of him. His slowed brain sent fear through his body for a moment as he prepared himself for another torturous hallucination. 

Despite Shuri and the other wonders of Wakandan technology being able to rid James Barnes of any Russian brainwashing, Bucky still had certain triggers that bought back memories more powerful than others. 

One of those was the cold, and just his luck, he was surrounded by it. 

Another loud noise caused Bucky to stir more violently than before and one word in particular made him think that fighting to end this vision would probably kill him. 

“STEVE!”

There it was again. 

“STEVE I FOUND HIM! IN HERE!”

That voice…he knew that voice. 

Bucky struggled to open frozen eyelashes, but when he did, he was sure he had died. 

You were in front of him, his angel. He could even feel your hand on his face. 

Suddenly Steve appeared from around a corner and Bucky figured that if this was heaven, he never wanted to leave. 

Corner…wall…

The dots began to connect themselves as Bucky realised he was inside. He supposed he’d somehow made it to the hut after all.

Steve touched his shoulder and it was like some of his life had been transferred into the dying solider. 

In a flash, Bucky registered that he couldn’t be dead, you two were here. You weren’t supposed to be dead…

‘Oh god,’ he thought, ‘ I killed them, they’re dead.’

He looked to Steve’s face, his lips in particular, that were creating sounds Bucky couldn’t quite distinguish. 

Panic began to set into James Barnes and everything went black once more. He knew he was in Steve’s arms, that was an unmistakable feeling, and Bucky felt content in knowing that if he really was dead, his two saviours were carrying him into the light.

----------

Part 2 coming soon!

Taglist: @maryam0831

#avengers #steve rogers #americas ass #angst #avengers assemble #avengers fanfiction #avengers x you #avengers x y/n #captain america #stucky x y/n #stucky x you #stucky x reader #stucky #stucky fluff #winter solider imagine #winter solider fanfiction #avengers fic rec #steve rogers x you #bucky barns x y/n #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fluff #bucky barns x reader #mcu fluff #marvel mcu #marvel x reader #mission gone wrong #marvel #avengers x reader #avengers fic

[dryad-of-the-dogwood]

The Grav Jump Tango Chapter 9: The Temple’s Toll Pairing: Sam Coe x Spacefarer

Despite all the effort Cass had put into picking a landing spot on the sunny side of Guniibuu IV, dusk had fallen and the stars were beginning to paint murals in the sky before she and Sam made it back to the Horizon. At some point, the path carved out of the crater had shifted fully into a gorge half hidden under overhanging rocks, and finally hit a dead end that meant they had to backtrack after all.

As far as dead ends go, it wasn’t the worst one Sam had ever seen, and not only because he wasn’t cornered in it with anyone shooting at him. There were huge crystal outcrops sprouting in the middle and reaching up toward the sky like that little hidden space was this planet’s version of a garden, and the crystals its flowers. A crystalline crust, Cass had said based off the readings on her scanner, and jokingly lamented that the magma that had created them wasn’t doing anything to warm the rest of the planet.

The way the stars glittered as they emerged reminded Sam of those crystals, though. The sunlight filtering down through the rocky overlook had turned them into prisms when the rays struck the crystal facets a certain way. Watching the galaxy slowly fade into light overhead definitely evoked a similar feeling.

Cass seemed to notice him looking and said quietly, “It is gorgeous out here. One of the worst things about growing up in the Well was never getting to see the sky. I used to sneak out in the middle of the night when I was a kid just to sit on the bridge by the lake and watch the stars reflect in the water. Not that New Atlantis is exactly the best view of them, with all the light pollution, but you know. You take what you can get.”

“Somehow I’d never really thought about how it must be livin’ in the Well,” Sam admitted.

“Most people don’t, and that’s how MAST likes it,” she said with a sigh. “They rationalize it that we’ve—they’ve—got everything they need to survive down there. Which probably makes sense if you don’t count any of those pesky little facts like that the MedBay only has Dr. O’Shea and everyone’s packed in like cargo, so any kind of outbreak is bound to turn deadly sooner rather than later. But surviving ain’t the same thing as living anyway, and very few people unlucky enough to be born down there ever really get out.”

He debated asking how she’d managed it, how she’d gone from sneaking out just to see the stars to ending up with the Horizon. But before he could decide whether it was more likely she’d answer or just flip that switch to smirk and deflect, the ship came into view and she picked up her pace with a relieved sigh.

Sam thought he’d managed to shove the way she’d smiled at him to the back of his mind until they’d both hung their spacesuits in the landing bay and headed toward the galley to look for the others. On the way, Cass gave up trying to shake the frost out of her hair and just started unbraiding it to let it dry. It was completely innocuous, or it should have been. If it wasn’t for how he caught himself fixating on the way she gathered her thick waves in her hands and let them fall around her face, and how he had to all but pry his eyes away.

All right fine, so she was attractive, and for more than just her sense of humor or the way she smiled. That wasn’t illegal, even if it might feel like it should be when she flirted with him on purpose just to try to throw him off. It was still an incredibly stupid thing to just stand around letting himself notice when he knew damn well he’d never do anything about it. Even if she kept everyone at a distance for good reasons like he suspected, that wasn’t something he could change.

#starfield #sam coe #spacefarer #sam coe x spacefarer #writing #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic #archive of our own #ao3

[inquisimer]

MER HELLO for dadwc consider maybeeeeee:

Zevran: "There was no one left to save them."

Tabris: "There's me."

HAPPY FRIDAY RO have some doubtful Tabris ft. devil's advocate Zevran 🥰🥰

for @dadrunkwriting

~~~

She shouldn’t be able to see smoke from the alienage this far off.

They’d reached Denerim after hours of hard riding, only to find it already decimated by the darkspawn presence. Riordan was on top of issuing orders, directing their motley group of defenders where they’d be most effective. But Ariya couldn’t hear his words—she stood in the plaza, staring south and trying to restart her heart.

A column of thick, dark smoke rose from a location that could only be the alienage. It was far enough to be beyond the river, but too close to be the Pearl, or one of the random alleys that made up that section of the city.

Shianni—Soris—the orphanage—

A calloused hand encircled her wrist and Ariya realized she’d taken half a dozen paces away from the group.

“Mi amor,” Zevran spoke quietly, but the concern was apparent in his voice. “Where are you going?”

“I—“ Ariaya stopped short, because she spoke sooner than the words had articulated. He knew, of course, about Shianni and Soris, about the trials and tribulations of growing up alienage, about the failed wedding and the shattered, traumatic remains she’d left behind when she joined the Wardens. She’d told him, in vulnerable moments over naked bodies and campfire watches. But she still wondered how much he really understood.

“Look.” She nodded toward the smoke, though there was no way he hadn’t already scouted the surrounding threats. “I can’t—what if—they need my help and I’m right here. Fuck whatever plan Riordan has—I haven’t followed the Wardens’ game plan until now and I’m not about to start.”

“Are they worth it?” Zevran spoke evenly, and Ariya would have smacked him, if not for the understanding that he was merely a sounding board, reflecting her own doubts back at him. “The Warden will expect you to seek out the greatest threats. Is the alienage worth so many other lives, should one not be there?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said fiercely. “They’ve been forgotten—or worse, under him” —she gestured roughly at the greasy-haired man they’d recruited against her better judgment. “I can’t let that be their last stand. If the Blight would take my family and spare the world, I’d rather die.”

“Would you? Would you see your family here” —his hands swept across Wynne, where she instructed Morrigan on mass healing spells, to Oghren, who was reviewing their group formation with the new recruit— “reduced to ash at the cost of those neighbors who remain in the alienage?”

“Yes—“ The declaration was out before she comprehended the meaning. That she would sacrifice all of them—Zevran included—for the alienage’s well being.

Ariaya grabbed his wrist as he attempted to draw it back from her shoulder. “Zev I—“

“No.” He shook his head. The anger she expected never materialized though; he merely watched her through even-keeled, expressionless eyes. “Do not break your convictions for me, amor,” he implored. “I would not ask that of you.”

“It’s just—“ Ariya broke off, staring down at her fingers twisted together. No one ever looked out for the alienage. Even within the walls, there was a certain amount of “every elf for themselves”.

Adaia had been the one to teach her that—and to tell her that it was wrong. That they should care for each person, elven or otherwise, to the their ability.

“If I don’t go to them now, who will?” she whispered, bringing Zevran’s knuckles to her forehead.

“No one will save them,” he said evenly. “There is no one left.”

“There’s me,” she affirmed, looking up at him with steel in her gaze. “I’m here—and the Wardens can’t take my heart from me. They can’t have any of my hearts.”

She squeezed his hand with as much determination as she willed into her voice. They would save the alienage and she would save him. The Wardens and the archdemon be damned.

“Zevran and I will attend the alienage,” she declared, voice cutting loud and decisive over Riordan’s idyllic plan. “The rest of you, preserve the city. Riordan, Loghain, if you see the chance—“

“Of course, milady.”

She waited for the inevitable pushback, but it never came. Her lover tugged on her wrist.

“If we are to offer any meaningful aid, we must go now.”

Ariya nodded, steeling herself for the greater horrors she would face in short order. “Lead on, amor.”

“Lead on?” said Zevran. “I wouldn’t dare. Don’t you know it’s rude to lead a woman to her own doorstep?”

Ariya laughed, the chuckles coming between smoky breaths. “Hold on to that attitude, my love. If my father is still alive, it may be enough to distract him from my mother’s influence and my fiancée’s demise.”

#dadwc #my writing #tabris x zevran #oc: ariya tabris #zevwarden #dragon age #dragon age fanfic #dao

[mxllitiam]

Peeta can see it - that breath of relief. It’s something he recognizes well, from him and his brothers. The times growing up where something was too loud, too messy, freezing in fear and watching the door. The obvious relief spread over them when they realized Ma wasn’t coming. It happens still, even now. Hadn’t he just experienced that only months before with Cael?

But this is about Gale’s mother. Peeta understands it, if only from the peripheral. He’s only really experienced the Games from the inside or the outside, never in that in-between state. It’s similar, now, if only because he’s tasked with bringing someone home, but Hazelle is not his family. She’s not his mother. He’s never just had to wait to see if someone would die, he’s only ever had to wait for his only death, conflicted about the fact it never came.

There’s no thank you, not really. Gale is pissed it hasn’t happened sooner and Peeta understands, but also knows that the other man will never get the complexities of these decisions. He will never understand what it’s like to weigh the pros and cons of an outcome in the arena. “It was my choice,” he says, honesty coming more easier if only to protect Katniss from the wrath of her best friend.

She’s hurting because of Gale, Peeta knows she is. “They wanted to do this right away - Katniss wanted to. I said no. ‘Cause it’s more complicated than it looks. Everythin’ in the Games is a decision - everythin. From who to trust to when to sleep to how to eat. I’m not gonna say I’m sorry for waitin’. She’s gonna have to do some of it on her own. The worst thing we could do for her is to waste all our resources in the beginning and then find out she needs us down the line 'cause she got hurt and now we’ve got nothin’ left to give.”

continued from @subsiist here

Knowing that it was Peeta's choice was interesting. Gale's eyebrows shoot up, his eyes a slow blink as he takes that in. Rage would undoubtedly grow and fester at an alarming speed in his chest, if it weren't for the pillowing effect of confusion at remembering that Katniss is the one that kept this piece of information from him. It's a wonder that Peeta Mellark, kid's merchant who owns a bakery and never had to worry about starving to death, thinks he can fucking control whether or not Gale's mother gets some help in the Games.

But it's more of a wonder that he's heard. That Katniss chose to take that ridiculous idea of his and make it a reality, because she is a part of the mentors too, they're a team. You would think she'd be the louder voice in the room -- not only because of that annoying performative gentleness of Peeta, but also because she's the one connected to the woman inside the arena. If no one else, she should call the shots.

He spews the exact same speech Katniss had regurgitated to him a few days before, with alarming precision. Gale laughs bitterly about halfway through it, when he realizes this. A hand comes up to rub at his eyes, scratching an itch he can't get rid of because it is born out of the annoyance of having to deal with this fucking idiot. "Yeah, good fuckin' job, ass wipe," he mutters, letting his hand drop so he can glare back at Peeta again. How wonderful, to know that this is the man who's made a puppet out of his best friend. Katniss Everdeen, new Capitol doll and married to the Capitol's very boyfriend. Gale was mean to her then, had regretted it over the last couple of days, but now the anger grows again, rots and spreads decay in some far away part of his heart as he thinks of Katniss and Peeta, sitting in a lounge together rehearsing what bullshit they're going to tell him, to continue sitting on a pile of sponsor money.

"You here to tell me that, then? That my mother needs to do it by her own fucking self," his voice grows higher pitched at the words in mockery, but his eyes are burning a warning into Peeta's. "Yeah, your wife was here earlier this week and said the same shit. Y'shoulda coordinated with her better. Did you get your scripts mixed up, bread boy?"

#interactions : gale #gale : peeta #eventideevent03 #i have fun writing angry gale i'm ngl #but at what cost #a cheeky repost for us (fuck u tumblr)

[voicesandthoughts]

Dead men don't rape

You knock three times

and stroll right in

You don't want for an answer

You take control and plaster it underneath my skin

Expecting only yes sir, no sir

and after that, I don't think I'll ever get my laughter back again

You trapped me in your spider's web

Songs of poisoned nectar ebbed and flowed

It was never a savored melody

but I sang along with fear and under deceit

Lecture after lecture, you never slowed

Making me your personal retreat

and now I'm learning that you're quite the collector

Your eyes hold the same unpredictable rage the seas do

Anyone young enough could find an ever open door inside their blue

Welcoming them into ever closing cages

Leaving them behind in ever closing spaces

Lured in with a love-bombing smile, they all leave feeling just as defiled

and you're still connvinced they could never fully see through your grand facades

You spend time joking that you are god

Years later, nearly a decade, you still won't leave us alone

omnipresent unpleasant presents

Your voice, futons, your clothes and more

They sneak up and chill me to the bones

I look at everyone you snuck around to do it

I think they're either morons or they just let you||

Every memory comes back unexpected and unbidden

You're a constant storm on the horizon

It gets the worst at night

the worst of me comes out at night

Whenever the darkness closes in

I consume or get consumed by the demons living within

I talk to you now, about it even

You pretend it wasn't you

You pretend it never happened

Sometimes you pretend I had the will to choose

I feel numb around you

You took all power from me

Far beyond burned a touch that used to be comforting

A relationship that should be, comforting

and oh how every chess move against me hurt beyond words

I was a fucking child, pun not intended

In no world should we had ever shared a bed

Oh, but I will crawl out of this grave

and oh all of you will rue that day

I don't know yet what exactly I plan to do or say

but there's no way in hell you're here to stay

At justice's untrusting hands

or within the depths of my own rusted lands

Your fate will florish in the curves of every flower you've yet to see

It will come to be in everything you see

You'll look up after it's far too late

To see it in the curves of my own face

Carved out with knives and hammers

We'll stand above your broken alter, her and I

and if you stand tall after anything we may try

I know quite a few things you may turn to

but I'm already building walls around you

You'll laugh, a bright glimmer returning to your eyes

You'll laugh and you'll laugh

As time grows thinner and thinner

They say to never seek revenge, not even to avenge

The way this world works

it's and eye for an eye again and again

Not in a fair way, the most successful heros die cold and alone

To dig your grave is to dig my own

but I have far been done with this shell

I would gladly shed it, to dance while you're in hell

No, the gun won't be mine

You'd know that if you've known me for any amount of time

and I won't hire a hitman, that's not who I am

I'll watch the sand fall to the ground

As I do the work to shovel a hole in which you'll truly feel found

Still, I wish upon you whatever what fate is truly due

Countless things I'm too human to do

and then I wish to know that you are found dead

I'll collect the flowers they leave for me on your grave

My soul will quiet and I'll be free to simply paint worlds and eat bread

I hope it happens sooner rather than later

You only live once and nothing would make it greater

We'll throw an expensive party

"aren't you sad though" the family will ask

and I'll say absolutely... not.

Dead men can't rape and dead men can't touch

and in that truth, that lot of light

we will bask and we will be golden

amen.

#tw sa mention #sa awareness #sa victim #sa survivor #spilled thoughts #original writing #vent poem #my writing #poetry #poets on tumblr #poets and writers #my poetry #poem #poetblr

[sweatforged]

*  ──  𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖕𝖙  𝑭𝑶𝑼𝑹  ❜ ⟨⟨       A  FIGHTER'S  GIFT  TO  THE  STRONGEST      ⟩⟩

upon  birth,  a  father  is  deemed  protector  of  his  offspring  as  no  babe  is  capable  of  defending  themselves.  no  child  should  have  to.  no  child  should  grow  up  in  a  web  of  lies,  spun  not  by  the  sisters  of  fate,  but  a  pair  of  bitter  old  perfectionists  who  saw  the  world  in  only  one  light. 

where  had  his  protector  been  when  he  needed  him? 

all this talk about parents... didn't sit well with him. it was ... it brought back memories & thoughts he spent a long time trying to bury in the depths of his heart.

silas  grew  up  a  very  troubled  child  &  for  the  longest  time,  he  blamed  himself.  he  blamed  himself  for  not  being  smart  enough  to  please  his  parents,  he  blamed  himself  for  not  being  sociable  enough  to  hold  a  conversation,  he  blamed  himself  for  not  being wordy  enough  to  compete  in  arguments &  it  felt  like  whatever  he  tried,  it  just  wasn't  enough. 

nothing  he  did  was  ever  good  enough,  even  when  he  felt  he  was  doing  quite  well.  his  passions  usually  brushed  off,  but  when  they  didn't  -  like  his  joy  for  music,  they  found  a  way  to  infiltrate  that  as  well.  he  always  had  to  be  better  than  others,  always  had  to  be  the  center  of  attention  in  a  crowd,  but  silas  ...  was  not.  ordinary  at  best,  he  never  reached  the  required  level  of  attention  to  prove  he  was  worthy. 

he  was  just  ..not  good  enough. 

for  a  long  time  he  thought  his  life  was  just  going  to  be  ...that.  he'd  chase  this  perfection & never  succeed,  over &  over  again.  he  didn't.  sooner  rather  than  later  he  broke  out & ran  away.  maybe  he  was  meant  to,  maybe  he  wasn't  -  he  wasn't  one  to  tell,  but  he  wished  he  knew  what  he  did  now  ..  back  then  so  he  didn't  spend  his  life  wondering  why  his  parents  ..  never  felt  like  his  parents &  his  life  never  felt  like  his  life. he  never  felt  like  he  belonged. not  in  new  haven,  not  in  vegas,  not  in  los  angeles.  it  wasn't  for  a  lack  of  trying  either. 

finding  out  neither  of  his  parents  actually  were  his  parents  was  an  epiphany,  truly.  it  came  a  good  thirty  years  too  late,  but  the  saying better  late  than  never  ...  existed  for  a  reason,  right?  in  camp,  silas  felt  ...  different,  still.  he  always  had,  so  maybe  that  would  never  change,  but  he  noticed  it  when  he  watched  the  others  train,  which  was  a  good  portion  of  his  everyday  routine  at  this  point. 

they  all  had  ..something  that  made  them  ..  them.  magic,  fey  spirits  turning  into  animals,  thunder  (or  was  it  lightning?)  or  wings.  he  couldn't  take  more  than  half  of  them  in  a  fight  despite  being  the  son  of  the  god  of  strength. did  he  have  to  train  more? could  he  even  train  more? he  just  ..  had  so  many  questions,  so  many  worries,  so  many  concerns &  wonders  when  it  came  to  this  new  life  he  let  himself  be  dragged  into. 

but  this  is  your  chance.  give  an  offering  to  your  parent,  say  a  prayer,  or  have  a  conversation.  this  is  your  chance  to  take  that  step.

...what  did  that  even  mean? 

they  say  it's  normal  for  young  godlings  to  be  connected  to  their  godly  parents,  but  he  was  far  from  a fledgling.  very,  very  far  from  it.  he  still  wasn't  sure  why  he  was  even  here.  surely,  there  had  to  have  been  a  younger  kratos  child  out  there,  right? so  why  him? he  looked  at  the  others  in  camp &  just  ...wondered. constantly. questioning  his  worth,  just  like  he'd  been  raised  to.  he  really  thought  he  broke  out  of  that  cycle. clearly  not. 

not  one  for  public  display,  or  crowds  in  general,  silas  left  once  the  announcement  was  done &  he  didn't  return  until  late  at  night  the  next  day  with  seemingly  only  his  guitar  in  tow.  he  thought  about  what  he  could  possibly gift  this  father  of  his  he  never  met &  came  up  mostly  blank,  not  because  he  was  clueless,  but  because  he  struggled  to  make  up  his  mind. gift  or  no  gift.  speak  or  grace  him  with  silence.  blame  or  ...don't. 

you've  already  accepted  the  song  in  your  veins.  there's  no  going  back.

these  words...  they'd  been  goin  'round &  round  his  head &  he  knew  that  they  were  true,  so  he  may  as  well  attempt  to  find  ...  peace.  silas  didn't  have  much  to  offer;  he  had  nothing  to  his  name  -  not  in  life  or  death,  but  he  had  a  love  he  could  share.  he  could've  brought  wine,  food,  could've  spent  the  night cooking  to  burn  whatever  he  felt  worthy  in  the  morning,  but  ...  would  that  have  been  truthful? not  really. 

in  front  of  his  father's  statue,  silas  took  a  moment  in  silence...  just  ..  watching,  focus  heavy  on  his  breath  -  on  calming  himself.  setting  his  guitar  aside  for  the  moment,  he  pushed  his  sleeves  up,  two  sets  on  both  sides  -  because  silas  tended  to  wear  two  pairs  of  shirts  even  when  they  were  long  sleeves & raised  his  hands.  one  formed  a  fist &  for  a  moment  bystanders  might've  thought  he'd  attempt  punching  the  statue,  but  he  didn't.  fist  slowly  brought  against  it,  eyes  cast  down,  he  hummed  a  quiet  tune. 

"you  know,  they're  tellin'  us  to  pray,  to  bring  sacrifices  or  ..  whatever.  i  get  it  for  the  kids,  i  do.  let  them  think  daddy  or  mommy  are  watchin'.  i'm  sure  it  keeps  them  in  line,  but  me?  we  both  know  i'm  long  past  that.  i'm  not  gonna  sit  here  'n  cry  my  heart  out.  i  think  we're  both  better  off  that  way.  i  wanna  believe  you  got  my  back,  but  all  this  here? lil  late,  don't  ya  think?"

maybe  they  weren't  needed  before,  maybe  he'd  been  mortal  up  until  recently,  but  ..  he  was  still there.  he  could've  been  found &  maybe  his  age  was  the  actual  issue  here,  because  the  others  were  young  enough  to  get  used  to  the  idea  of  a father  coming  into  their  life,  but  not  him.  he  was  too  old  for  a  reprimanding  father. 

he  pulled  his  hand  back  to  himself &  flopped  down  in  front  of  the  statue,  legs  crossed &  guitar  in  reach,  but  first  he  unwrapped  his  hands,  the  dark  blue  wraps  coming  off  slowly,  one  side came  off  with  a  squelching  sound  in  tow &  silas  hissed  softly,  but  didn't  slow  down  until  both  his  hands  were  ...  bearing  skin.  bruised &  bloody,  they  bore  the  result  of  endless  training.  they  always  did,  but  the  stakes  were  higher  now. 

"you  gave  me  strength.  that's  your  thing.  i've  got  nothing  else.  all  i've  got  is  my  blood  an'  my  sweat.  you  made  me  what  i  am.  i  dunno  if  it's  been  fate  or  if  i  never  had  a  choice  in  the  first  place,  but this  is  all  i  know.  it's  what  i  am, what i've always been.  i  guess  the  anger's  yours,  too.  made  for  a  good  time  growin' up.  i  guess..  i  wonder  why  me.  got  no  other  kids  around?  did  you  even  know  my  mother?  would  make  one  of  us.  or  was  she  just  a  means  to  get  what  you  want?  it  don't  matter  anymore  now,  but  i  guess  i'm  tryin'  to  find  out  more  'bout  you  two.  funny  to  think  i'm  here,  fightin'  ...  your  fight  an'  i  never  met  you  or  my  mother." 

matches rattled & blood-crusted wrappings  were  placed  in  the  little  bowl &  set  ablaze  swiftly,  but  silas  dropped  something  else  in  the  bowl,  it  was  ..  an  heirloom  of  sorts.  it  was  stupid,  but  he  thought  it  his  good  luck  charm.  during  one  of  his  first  fights  in  the  ring,  he  almost  died.  in  the  end  it  cost  him  a  tooth.  it  was  replaced,  because  even  a  fighter  had  to  look  proper  these  days  -  apparently,  but  he  kept  it.  felt  only  right  to  offer  something  he  valued. he  did. both. when fighting was the only thing worthwhile in your life... well, options were limited. but his blood & his body .. he'd given both to the cause. freely. irrevocably.

"i'm  seein'  that  ares  kid  shred  everythin'  in  his  sight,  the  zeus  boy's  ..well,  you  know  what  he's  doin'  an'  there's  pan's  kid  summonin'  armies  of  wolves  to  fight  for  him.  or  that  one  kid  who' s controllin'  plants.  i  guess  i  feel  i'm  bein'  left  behind.  can't  fucking  win  against  most  of  them.  kratos'  son  losing  against  ...i  can't  even  say  it. sorry for being a failure, story. of my life." 

failure, a constant companion before he discovered his talent for fighting back in the day. he just... maybe for once he wanted to make a parent proud, strange as that may be given he had the age of a parent himself. though, that urge to make daddy proud never quite went away for any son.. did it?"

"i  mean  i  did  fine  outside  of  camp,  took  down  a  pack  of  lions,  the  boogeyman-  yeah,  don't  ask.  but  i had help. i.. never did. it's new, but i like it knowing someone else has my back, yeah, i'm.. i .. do. more reason to be better, y'know? i just.. struggle. fightin' the kids in  camp?  it's  frustrating.  reminds me that all this... is new. some  of  them  got wings.  fuckin'  wings.  guess  you  forgot  mine  or  the  books  are  lyin'  and  you  didn't  have  any. yeah,  i  read. surprised  me  too. fine, okay.. got an audio book. readin' ain't my thing. but, yeah..  figured  i  should  learn  some  about  that  world  your  blood  dragged  me  into.  fuck,  wings  would've  been  nice.  anyway,  i  guess  what  i'm  tryin'  to  say  is... i  try  to  make  you  proud.  dunno  if  you  care,  or  ever  did,  but  if  there's  one  thing  i'm  made  for...  it's  all  this,  so  if  you  got  advice or anythin' you need me t'do?  y'know  where  to  find  me. i'll do what i can." 

soft  sigh. 

"uh,  right.  one  more  thing.  heard  this  a  long..  long  time  ago.  never  thought  it'd  call  to  me.  well,  now  it  does.  assumin'  y'all  don't  got  radio,  so...  hope  you  enjoy,  but  i  don't  really  care  if  you  don't  either.  it's  good, i promise." 

guitar  in  his  lap,  fingers  slowly  wrapping  around  the  neck,  forming  chords  after  chords  as  he  struck  string  after  string. 

♫♫  "Like  blood  upon  the  snow The  ground  walked  here  is  a  wonder It  ceases  never  to  hunger And  all  things  nature's  given She  takes  all  things  back  from  the  living I've  walked  the  earth  and  there  are  so  few  here  that  know How  dark  the  night  and  just  how  cold  the  wind  can  blow I've  no  more  hunger  now  to  see  where  the  road  will  go I've  no  more  kept  my  warmth Than  blood  upon  the  snow Blood  upon  the  snow It's  not  my  arms  that  will  fail  me But  this  world  takes  more  strength  than  it  gave  me The  trees  deny  themselves  nothing  that  makes  them  grow No  rain  fall,  no  sunshine No  blood  upon  the  snow Blood  upon  the  snow..."  ♫♫

  "y'know,  i  forgot  somethin'.  i  never  thanked  ya.  not  sure  if  i  coulda  got  here  without  you.  you  didn't  do  shit,  not  really,  but this  ...gift.  that  part  o'me  that's  you  got  me  here,  i'm  pretty  sure.  the  bloodlust,  the  anger,  the  unbreakable  will...  worthy of a god  of  strength.  i  wanna  guess  that's  all  you,  in  a  way.  you  got  me  in  your  corner  an'  i  ain't  goin'  down  easily.  so  yeah.. teach me your ways if you will. i’ll do whatever it takes." 

  he  felt  silly  talking  to  a  statue,  but  he  understood  the  meaning  behind  it &  he  knew  that  it  was  the  same  principle  as  graveyards  -  only  this  time  around  they  knew  for  sure  that  someone  on  the  other  side  was  listening. would  he  answer? 

  "i'll  have  another  song  next  time."  he  wasn't  done  yet,  not  quite.  there  was  ...  something  else,  something  he  clearly  struggled  with  more  than  the  previous  comments & he lingered for a good five more minutes before he spoke again. "...see  ya,  father."

#* . ⊹ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀᴛʜ ɪs ʟᴏɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴜɴғᴏʀɢɪᴠɪɴɢ. › ❨ headcanon. ❩ #godlingprompt004

[sup-im-jasper]

Exerpt: In Every Universe

The night was quiet as the young princess snuck out of her balcony to meet her love. Lelia was more in love with Aeris than anyone could imagine. Aeris waited by the flowing water fountain in the cold night, the stars shining brightly above. Through the darkness, a figure began to emerge, and soon enough, Lelia’s smile could be seen clearly, as though shining a light through the dark. She seemed to have one of those smiles – a smile that could make anything better.

Lelia could hardly contain her excitement. Five long days and nights of being unable to see her favorite person, and finally, there she stood in front of her, looking as beautiful as ever.

“Princess,” Aeris smiled with a curtsy.

Lelia gigged, her smile only growing, “Princess,” she curtsied back.

Aeris stepped closer, placing her hand on Lelia’s cheek.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you, my love,” she spoke softly.

“As have I,” Lelia responded quieter, her smile never faltering.

With a quick turn of her head as to be sure no one had followed them, Aeris leaned in, sharing a kiss, soft and sweet.

“I hate that we have to sneak around like this,” Aeris sighed, leaning her forehead against Lelia’s.

“I know, my darling. But our parents could never understand. Not with the history they share.”

Both girls knew the history she spoke of – the years of hatred and wars before their births. Their families held a deep-rooted anger for each other, the peace only being held by a meager treaty agreeing to refrain from war until the girls were the age of 18. This could be the year everything changed.

The two princesses had met by accident, both dressing as village folk for a day away from their duties. They became quick friends, spending countless nights together by this same fountain. But the two kingdoms were becoming increasingly hostile to each other, so, for their safety, they had to remain apart.

Lelia feared her parents would find out, believing that if they should, Aeris would be executed. She knew of her parents' strong feelings towards the Kingdom of Chral, but she couldn’t find the same hatred in her heart.

How could they be so horrible when Aeris was so lovely?

“I wish we could spend our lives together,” Lelia smiled sadly.

“We will. Who cares about some family feud?” Aeris said, pulling away to look Lelia in the eyes, “We’ll wait until we can. We’ll find a way. I promise.”

“I never thought I could love anyone as much as I love you,” Lelia whispered.

“I’ll love you in every universe,” Aeris replied, closing the space between them to share another kiss.

The princesses spent their night talking and laughing, savoring every moment. And as the night went on, Aeris offered a dance beneath the stars, the moon reflecting brightly off the water.

“I could dance with you all night,” Aeris laughed, spinning Lelia.

Lelia giggled before realizing what she meant, “You can’t leave now. Do you really have to go already? Please stay just a bit longer!”

“I can’t, my love. I have to make it back before sunrise. You know how long it takes to get home,” she explained.

Lelia frowned but nodded, understanding the consequences if they were to ever get found out. The princesses shared a final kiss before Aeris slowly pulled away.

And so, far sooner than Lelia would have liked, Aeris had to leave, needing to make the long trek back to her kingdom before the sun rose. And, with a heavy heart, Lelia sat there, watching as Aeris disappeared into the night, alone, until she could see the sun peak up above the horizon – until she could hear the birds begin to sing. Only then did she make her way back to her castle.

But, when she stood from the fountain, a slight rustle in the bush nearby caught her attention. She could have sworn she saw a person, but as quickly as they were there, they were gone.

“Hello?” she called nervously.

No response. She quickly turned and walked away, a feeling of unease spreading through her. She felt as though she were being watched the whole way back, periodically checking to make sure she wasn’t being followed.

As she reached her castle, she climbed up to her balcony, making her way to her bed. But as she crawled into her comfortable bed, laying down to get as much rest as possible for the day to come, the rustle was all that was on her mind. She had only one thought before she drifted off to sleep: had someone been watching her?

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

A/N: This was the first chapter to my queer princess story (the chapter was named "Starry Night") and was the beginning to the story I intended to use this for.

Written around Nov. 2023

#writing #original writing #story #exerpt #princesses #queer #lgbtq #lesbian #love

[harkovastwebcomic]

Chapter 23 - Siege

The wooden towers outside the city continued to grow.

The Zadakine were not, as a people, famous for their martial prowess. The ‘way of the warrior’ was not generally considered a prestigious career in their society. Amongst the matriarchal Zadakine, fighting battles was a task best left to unskilled males. However, one thing that even the Zadakine’s enemies would have to acknowledge about themselves was their skill at logistics. The organisation, movement and effective use of resources was a constant source of fascination to the Zadakine, and they poured over such things in minute detail. Their army arrived outside Yalangov well fed and well-equipped, and they moved to organise their siege almost immediately. They began to quickly assemble huge wheeled siege towers. Over the next few days these structures grew taller, soon standing higher than even the city walls. The structures were wide enough that three Bralks could be housed inside on the lowest level, attached to harnesses to push the heavy wooden structures forward. The defenders on the walls could only watch as these war machines were constructed and carefully positioned out of range of the city’s ballistae. The attacking army far out numbered the defenders, so they could only watch as this work went on night and day. The weight of tension pressed down on the minds of everyone within the city. There was nothing they could do to forestall the coming attack and no one could say precisely when it would begin. Everyone’s thoughts lingered on the ever growing danger. The guards on the walls began to almost will the towers to begin moving forward, just to break the unbearable tension of it, for something, ANYTHING to happen. But, of course, when they did begin to move, slowly, steadily, inexorably advancing, those same guards felt nothing but dread. If Ki felt any fear, he didn’t show it, sitting on the battlements, his feet dangling over the wall. Ki watched the approaching army with apparent amusement. He glanced around to see Shogun, Goy and a short, fat Ivos man in a toga walking along the walls. The Ivos had several servants accompanying him, one carrying bowls of olives. Periodically the Ivos would pause and open his mouth, until his servant placed an olive in it, which he would swallow before continuing. ”Preator Goldus,” said Goy, “your warriors will be placed behind the main wall, to block any breakthroughs the enemy achieves. If necessary, we may need them to hold the line while our forces fall back to secondary defences.” Goy gestured to the inner walls of the city. ”Good, good,” said Goldus, seemingly not paying too much attention. “That should be no problem. A band of scrawny Zadakine will be nothing to worry about.”

Goy had a brief moment of disgust but then regained his composure. ”Of course,” said Goy, the Praetor not noticing how false his warmth was. “I am sure they will acquit themselves admirably.” ”They may get their chance sooner than they think,” said Shogun. He pointed over the wall, where individual bralks were moving ahead of the slowly advancing towers. On the backs of these beasts were mounted huge crossbows, loaded with huge harpoons, attached to long, rolled-up heavy chains.

#Harkovast siege

[fatedevour]

♢  —     @bogachs​​ said:  13. my muse washes your muse’s hair (dottore enjoys a bath for once)

nonverbal actions    reverse 13. my your muse washes your my muse’s hair

   “  Enough with your INCESSANT nagging! You might very well drive me deaf with the amount of it.  “  Dottore snaps like a provoked beast as he stalks towards the bathroom that Pantalone’s practically been trying to HERD him into. It’s irritating and bothersome how Pantalone insists, nay, DEMANDS that he go take a bath. A quick shower was more enough to accomplish what it was designed to do, he had no desire to step into a milk tea bath or whatever pompous, over-the-top bath that was being forced upon him. As if he were some MUTT that’d been out in the mud and needed bathing.

   He of course is well aware of the fact he will get NO PEACE even as he steps into his prison for the next gods know how long Pantalone decides to keep him in for. The sooner he gets in DOES NOT mean the sooner he gets out. Damn it, why couldn’t Pantalone have a meeting or something else to be doing right now other than tormenting him? He should have just stayed in his lab is what he should have done, a thought he keeps to himself as he sheds layers, least Pantalone hear it and make the time worse. The Doctor makes it look EASY to undo the layers and various straps that keep his outfit in place, far from the ARDUOUS task that Pantalone has had the delight of discovering to the man’s own entertainment to see the flawless regrator struggling. But now it all peels away like bark around the stem, a snake shedding skin as he finally removes his mask last.

   Lips curve into an aggressive FROWN as he steps into the hot water and sinks down, down, down into the depths of the water. As he suspected, the water carries a fragrance to it. Though THANKFULLY it is one of the ones he likes, and not something overly perfume-y that would invade his senses like a vicious and continuous assault. Subtle and pleasant. Although ODD, he associates it with Pantalone exclusively. Whatever. At least Pantalone’s nagging has decreased.

   Dottore’s eyes slide shut as he leans his head backwards, expression still tense with displeasure and simple usual stress that he carried about. But he allows tense muscles to attempt to relax in the hot water, can feel how the warmth brings a rare shade of pink to flush his skin as he remains where he was. Most of all, he can feel calculating and plotting eyes on him like he’s a lamb to the slaughter. Such a concept was laughable truly. Neither of them were ever fully vulnerable. There was no lamb. Lips part, ready to pose a question of how lung he MUST stay here, but he falls quiet before it leaves.

   Soft touches curl into his hair, stroking along his scalp before warm water drenches candy-colored locks. He should grumble and snap, and his inhale reveals the intentions. But with TOO PERFECT timing to be coincidence, Pantalone’s fingers slide into his locks, lathering it up with one of his undoubtedly absurdly priced shampoos. And for all his fight and irritation, his eyes flutter shut, growing docile beneath his hands. It HELPS, loathed as he is to admit it. Pantalone’s touch was chasing away some of the tension that had been building in his head, easing away invisible stress that felt like a spiderweb across his head.

   Before he knows it, Dottore finds himself relaxing, angry snarl evidently long since having evaporated from his lips. His head bows slightly, lost in the sensation that brings rare relief to is thought  and heache heavy mind.  No doubt Pantalone must be smug ; dottore was too lost to have answered anything asked of him if Pantalone had said anything.

   “  How much longer must you continue to demand of me for this?  “  Dottore demands, yet it lacks the bite it normally has, only allowing his eyes to open enough for a sliver of red to briefly shine through a forest of long lashes to watch Pantalone as he continued to relax. 

#bogachs #they're such an old married couple sometimes #dottore just D:< but also soooooo relaxed once he starts washing his hair #helps with the stress