#f: quite a great spirit of adventure

[astriiformes]

Holy shit, you're not a big RTD fan either? Can we like... talk about it? I thought I was alone!

Honestly I don't even want to dip into it much since thinking too much about his whole.... everything.... exhausts me, but you're definitely not alone. I feel like in my circle of friends the consensus that his writing wasn't anything special and in fact produced some pretty unlikable characters and frustrating plot points is a pretty common one.

Ten does nothing for me and the fact that people act like he was the pinnacle of the Doctor's character when really he mostly came across as arrogant and treated a lot of his companions really horribly frustrates me; as an aro/ace person I really struggle with so much of the era revolving around... well.... you know... and especially the idea that a lot of other characters ended up stuck in her shadow (which, considering prior to RTD the Doctor was extremely easy to read as aspec adds insult to injury, but to be clear I think he handled giving the Doctor a romantic interest exceptionally poorly and I am upset about more than just the idea of the Doctor having one); there's a distinct lack of affection for the history of the show in many of his eps, like making UNIT into the bad guys; there's a lot of fairly upsetting transphobia... the whole era just contains very little of what I like about Doctor Who and a number of things I dislike.

Bringing him back as showrunner was already lazy and with something like this right out of the gate it's safe to say I won't be picking the show up again anytime soon, but he's not powerful enough to kill it either, which is actually one of the things I like about Doctor Who -- that it's a massive sprawling beast of a story that's had many writers and faces and twists and turns over the years, and is likely to return to ones that mean something to me eventually. Even if it ends up going the long way 'round.

#f: quite a great spirit of adventure

[neverevan]

If you’re taking asks for your wips, I’m curious about 4 and 10?? 👀

sure thing, nonnie ✨

no10 has been answered here: X

in no4: Chris gets into a squabble and whacks a kid with one of his crutches, but since the school can't reach Eddie and Carla's not in LA, they go for the next name on the list: Buck.

here's a kinda longish snippet for you:

"Chris? Christopher!" Eddie's frantic voice echoed through the empty parking lot as he rushed towards them. "Buck? I got your text, is he okay?" Not waiting for Buck's answer, he crouched down in front of Christopher, his hands roaming the kid's shoulders, as if checking for broken bones. "Are you okay?"

"Hey, dad."

"Hey, buddy. Is everything alright?" The wrinkle between his eyebrows deepened as his gaze scanned Chris' face.

"Toby pushed me." Chris said simply with a small shrug, like it was an everyday occurrence for him to get into physical fights.

"What?"

"The kid pushed him over, because apparently he was taking too long with the tidying." Buck took over when it became clear that Chris was less than keen on sharing the details of his little adventure. "Chris smacked his arm with his crutch."

At least now he didn't have to hold back his proud smile anymore, and the way Eddie's eyes brightened with a soft chuckle told Buck he wasn't alone in his delight.

"Yeah? You really did that?" Eddie asked as he smoothed a stray lock out of the kid's forehead.

"He deserved it." Chris grumbled with a small shrug.

"Chris—"

"—is right." Buck cut in. "The little shit had it coming."

"Buck." Eddie hissed and Buck couldn't quite decide if Eddie took issue with him agreeing or his choice of language.

"F-fine, alright." He held up his hands defensively. "The nurse checked both of them over; Toby's got a nasty bruise and uh Chris skinned his elbows a little, but they're gonna be fine."

"Good." Eddie finally straightened up, though he let his hand linger on Chris' shoulder just for a moment longer, as he fixed his gaze on Buck's face. "Hey, you two gonna be alright? I want to have a quick talk with the principal."

"Yeah, sure." Buck nodded easily.

"Great. Thanks Buck, I'll see you at home." Eddie leaned in to give a small kiss to Buck's cheek, before disappearing behind the glass doors and leaving him to stand there, awestruck.

After a moment, he shook his head, convinced that it was nothing more than some kind of momentary hallucination and put his hand on the back of Christopher's head, steering him gently towards the Jeep.

"Alright buddy, let's go home."

✨and in the spirit of getting back into working on my wips and since it's gotten kinda long, I'm gonna use this as my Inspiration Saturday 🩼 and I am totally no pressure tagging and tagging back the wonderful @sunshinediaz @spagheddiediaz @goforkinard @honestlydarkprincess @excuseme-greentea @exhuastedpigeon @nmcggg @disasterbuckdiaz @daffi-990 @diazsdimples @watchyourbuck @actualalligator mwuahh 💛

#this fic is actually like 90% drafted and have been sitting in my notes app for months #buddie #911 #ask #fic ask #anon #wip #the crutch fic

[spaceflower07]

Name: Alfred F. Jones Specialty: N/A (but likes fire, flying, and electric types) Place of Origin: Alola, Melemele Team: Growlithe, Braviary, Snorlax, Wailmer, Alolan Raichu, Charizard, Jolteon Not used for battle: Rotom, Vulpix Rank: Top 5 (Alola) Top 10 (Globally) Pokemon he hates/fears: Ghost types, Beedrill (he's allergic to bees)

Alfred is renowned globally as the cheerful President of Astral Institute and strongest Elite Four member. From childhood, Alfred had secretly been participating in underground tournaments, honing his skills despite facing inexperienced opponents. He rose up the ranks quite quickly, setting record after record. Using his knowledge from Astral to good use, he knows exactly how to beat every type of Pokemon, and speed is his game. You can't harm what you can't touch, and he ends the battles in seconds with his fiery and electrifying team. He only does enough to knock them out, as he deems it barbaric to harm the Pokemon beyond what was necessary. He's an adventurous powerhouse trainer—after a childhood of being locked away, he was eager to explore everything there was to be explored. Alfred's impressive ascent through the ranks and genuine enthusiasm for battling captivated audiences, earning him a devoted fan base. He gained his own fans among the other competitors as well with his charm, as he made a habit of befriending his opponent before every match. He is currently Ivan's battle and traveling partner, and while they are certainly growing close, they are undoubtedly still opponents, and their rivalry can be very bitter at times. While Alfred doesn't specialize in a specific type, he favors electric, flying, and fire types with his energetic nature, desire for freedom, and fiery spirit. He has also never caught a Pokemon without helping or befriending them first, which is why his Pokemon had such fierce loyalty to him. 

Alfred was formerly the son of a renowned scientist, Samuel Jones. When on the verge of creating an extraordinary machine, the laboratory was attacked by a suspicious organization in Sinnoh, fearful that it would be their doom. Alfred's father died getting him to safety, and upon hearing the news of her husband's death, his mother fell into depression and disappeared. Alfred's brain conveniently erased the memory to protect him, and to his knowledge, he simply never had parents. Alfred's father worked in the Astral Institute, and knowing that he was the only survivor and witness of that night, Astral took him in and locked him away in their Headquarters on a remote island off Melemele. He was raised meticulously, treated as a fragile and helpless little thing to be protected and handled like glass. He wasn't allowed to make friends or leave the Headquarters, or even do anything remotely dangerous or interesting. Sick of feeling trapped, Alfred would regularly sneak out to join underground tournaments and battles. At the age of fifteen, he snuck out to join the Final Test, and after passing, the Astral Institute was bound by law to begrudgingly allow him to be a trainer.

More bits of information:

Despite his confinement by Astral, Alfred harbors no resentment towards them. Instead, he channels his frustration into a fierce determination to prove his worth beyond being simply their "golden child." Yearning for freedom, he sets his sights on becoming Pokémon Champion, driven by a desire to showcase his abilities and assert his independence. For Alfred, achieving greatness is not only about personal ambition but also about reclaiming control over his own life. He could be the greatest if only they let him go. Alfred initially resented Ivan, feeling threatened by his strength as he believed it was nothing but natural talent, especially with his lack of ambition. He challenged Ivan to numerous battles to prove his own superiority but always lost, frustrating him. However, when Alfred learned of Ivan's motivations, he put aside his own pursuit of greatness to support him. He realizes the futility of seeking personal glory and shifts his focus to improving Astral, believing it to be a more meaningful endeavor that benefits everyone, Pokemon and humans alike. He had been the Pokemon Champion for a brief time before Ivan defeated him, but Alfred wasn't angry about it and had been happy that Ivan succeeded. While no longer the Champion, he was still one of the Elite Four and the President of the primary agency for anything Pokemon-related, so he still held in high regard and power.

Alfred's childhood revolved around technology, aiding Pokemon, and helping around the Astral Institute, resulting in his intelligence and dedication to Pokemon. Despite his knowledge, he struggles with social cues as his isolation has left him socially inept, unused to conversing with anyone but the Astral employees. In battle, he avoids using Rotom, Vulpix, and Wailmer, as the first two weren't for battle and Wailmer was fearful. Snorlax holds a special place in his heart, being his first Pokémon and caregiver in his infancy.

Note:

Astral Institute is a technological organization that handles the Pokemon Leagues, Gyms, Championships, Tournaments, and battles, like an agency for trainers to go on missions, take commissions, or study courses. It is not required for trainers to take missions and they are generally free to do as they please, but they are required to go through a Final Test before becoming a trainer.

The Final Test is the participants being placed in an enclosed captivity filled with violent Pokemon; if they survive, then they pass, and they receive Pokeballs that are unique to trainers.

#hws america #hws hetalia #hetalia #aph america #hetalia america #poketalia #pokemon #bye i really ranted here #sorry guys #can you see my new fixation

[rei64bit]

Heimdall x Reader ⎯⎯  From Dusk till Dawn [Chapter 3]

Night 3  (Heimdall X  F!Reader)  

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✎  Summary: Fanfic of reader married to Heimdall due to Odin wanting a grankid.

✎ Word count: 2.3k

✎  Title:  From Dusk till Dawn

✎  Chapter: [1][2] [3] [4] [5] [6] ... more  // trying to publish as much as possible.

✎  Note: Im not really a writer, its the first time I want to write something on a character I like alot.

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Weeks have passed, you have got your new routine by now. Woke up early morning on top of the wall, start your day and work, night time come, go to Black Thunder drink till you night and sleepy and go back to the wall and sleep at same spot. You been avoiding Heimdall at all course. The fight from that night it still make your blood boil. You stopped hanging around the great lodge as you know he is always at the mead hall if he is not up the wall. When you need to eat, you just quickly grab whatever you need when he is not in the mead hall, you spend quit a lot of time away from the great lodge, you even went to the training fields to watch the Valkyrie training the einherjar while you are writing some note for your work.

People have been asking you here and there about how you and Heimdall doing, and you always try to change the topic. At this point you just hope All-father will suddenly show up and tell you the marriage is no longer valid, and you can go on your merry way stay away from him, but you know this is impossible. But you also don’t want to see him again, let just hope All-father sends him to a mission in other realm for months you think to yourself.

“y/n, it’s good to see you.” The voice of All-father suddenly jerked you from your seat on top of the plain field where you watch over the training fields.

“All-father, may I know what I can help you with?” You are getting nervous but try to smile at All-father, after all this happened in the pass few weeks, he probably knew.

“relax y/n its nothing like that, I just want to talk to you. You are always nice to hang out with” All-father smiled back with his hand gently placed on your shoulder. “It looks like you have a lot on your mind lately, what’s the matter?” He asked and patted on your shoulder to make sure you don’t have to worry.

“Not really All-father… I’ve been..spending my time doing works and walking around Asgard, explore outside the wall. Asgard is a good place to live after all. It’s nice to walk around.” You answered, trying your best to look relaxed but it’s hard to look into All-father when lying. “Is that so, I’m glad you like to explore, the spirit of adventurer,but just try not to go too far outside the wall alright, I just want to make sure you are safe y/n.” “Thank you All-father.”

“I heard something happened between you and Heimdall lately, did he hurt you in anyway y/n?” This is the main question All-father wanted to ask, he kinda sound concern. “oh no..not really. Uh well things is just we need times..” You lied again, this time instead of looking at All-father, you turned away facing the training fields watching the einherjar. Before you speak again and you remember what Thor said to you weeks ago. “..well, perhaps we just need to get to know each other better, but definitely I need some times well.. till im ready to talk to him again”.

“Alright y/n, im not gonna force you to speak on this any further, just to know I’m always here to help if you need me alright? I know he is a lot, sometimes he just forget to think, my son is all work he just don’t really spend time with anyone else, I’m confidence things will turn out well after sometime y/n.” All-father pat on you one last time before he ready to go back to his study. “As long as you need anything y/n, just find me at my study alright” “Yes, All-father” The crows start to circle around all-father and teleported.

You sighed, well that was scary. Can’t believe you just lied to All-father. Get back to know him your husband better? Nah, that’s not gonna happen. You picked up your pencil that fell on the ground and started to walk to the other side of the training field, perhaps later you can go to the blacksmith shop to see what weapon there are making this time.

---

Again you are in the Black Thunder, drinking mead and eating some braised food. Usually, Thor is around but not today, maybe he is away for work All-father given to him. The einherjar around you trying to make you drink more or join their competition. This is boring, but you join in anyway. What can you do other than spend time in the tavern till you sleepy and back to the wall again? Spending time in Black Thunder have trained you to be able to drink more without passing out, thanks to the god of thunder.

One tankard, two tankard.. you are getting very tipsy but not drunk enough to tap out. IF Thor was here it will be more fun. Three tankard..four tankard.. Alright, that’s it, you are not going to do it any further. You raised your hand to give up, the einherjar around what shouting and laughing at your defeat.

Again you stand outside Black Thunder with a tankard full of mead in your hand that you sneak out from the tavern. All-father been forbid people drinking heavily outside the Black Thunder due to the incident of einherjar and Asgardian fight in the mead hall, it was a mess. Now, drinking on top of the wall is the only brilliant idea you have in your mind. Dragging your feet, you approach the platform and turn the handler to ascend to top while humming a silly tone you don’t even know where you hear or know it. Reached the top, you walk back to your usual spot. Both your pillow and blanket is there hiding from Heimdall since he is always here all the time.

Sitting on the ground you cover yourself using your blanket and start drinking whatever is left in your tankard and watching the Ida fields feeling the wind blowing caress your face gently. Its full moon today, the moonlight shine on your face. “it’s so pretty.. If only I can pick it from the sky..” Perhaps it’s the mead you drank so much today doing the magic, you really think it’s a cool idea to try to reach the moon. Putting down your mug, you stand up with all your strength and reach the edge of the wall. Stretching your hands up so far you tried all you could to do the impossible - grab the moon like a ball in hand. Some pebbles start to fall down the wall but you didn’t flinch, you are very focus on doing what you are doing now.

Suddenly a strong wind blowing through your way and your body start to lose the balance and leaning outside the wall.  Before you have strength to balance your body back on wall, one of your leg slipped. “Ah!--” In this moment your sense back to your mind instantly and you regret this stupid idea, just when your hands trying to grab the wall, someone is holding on your left hand which is now the only thing prevent you fall to your dead. Looked down you never realize how high it is, more pebbles dropped down the wall make it look so scary acrophobia by now. You looked up, it was the god with glowing bifrost eye with the gift of foresight, Heimdall.

“You crazy or what? Are you really want to die so badly? If you do, you can do it outside of this realm.” Heimdall with one hand holding on the wall, another grabbing you firmly. You are speechless for a few second and you started to wiggle the hand Heimdall grabbed on. “Let go of me you piece of shit!” “You crazy women, you think I can let you just die from falling from the wall I guard? You better find the other way to kill yourself.” Heimdall increases the strength on his hand at the point you started to feel pain. “It hurts you asshole let go of me.” Heimdall is getting impatient, he pull you up and know you are ready to start fight with him again. Before you able to talk again, he throws a punch straight at your stomach strong enough to make you stop moving. “You short-sighted..piece..” Andddd you passed out.

Heimdall catches you before your face kiss the ground. Carry you on his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. He looked at you for a few seconds and walked toward the spot you hide all your stuffs and grab all in one hand, walk back to the platform back down to the ground. His hand get tighten on you incase you woke up and decide to pick a fight again.

----

“shit-this hurt--” You woke up with a pain on place Heimdall punched, open your eyes it’s still dark and nighttime. The pain is still lingering on your stomach but you start to feel a little better, what under you is not the hard cold stone ground like when you sleep on the wall, its soft and comfy. A blanket gives you warmth and a pillow under your head. Wait—this room, this is HIS room. You are confused, you were on top of the wall just now, but you are back to his room. The hel how you back to here. Wait, now you remember Heimdall is the last person you saw when you on the wall.

“This time really try to sleep and not do anything ruthless alright? Wife?” You heard Heimdall voice from your side. He is laying right next to you under the same blanket as you, you can see his back with no tunic or shirt on, there are a few small tiny scars on his shoulder. “I wouldn’t do this if you are not treating me like shit.” You hissed. Waiting for him to say something back but he is quiet. “Hey! im talking to you!” You get up and before you grab his shoulder, he turns around and presses your head back to your pillow. His hand now holding your arm firmly and pressing you closer to his body. You stop on your thoughts and seems like you also forget to breathe because your face is just  inches to his chest. “Why don’t we just try to get along for a while huh? Cause I’m getting tired some of this hide and seek game you been playing.” “Why should I after what you--” “perhaps I should cast a spell on you to be a good girl and listen to whatever I said, will this be better?” “…” Wait there is such a spell? really? “and yes there is such a spell. If you continue being ruthless and causing trouble for the All-father, I might as well just use it on you.”

Not sure how much time has passed; you can hear him breathe steadily with a slow pace. He is asleep. You can’t sleep yet, you are too close to him you don’t even dare to move a muscle. The room is kinda cold as he let his windows open wild, letting the moonlight shine in the room. Suddenly you sneezed, and the movement alarmed Heimdall a little, but all he did was groan, moving the blanket higher and holding you closer to him.

Perhaps you didn’t notice, but Heimdall been listen to your thoughts the past few weeks after you “ran away”. Heimdall has the ability to listen to every small movement and detail if he want to, even the wool that growing on the sheep or the grass that moving on the rhythm. Besides, he doesn’t have to focus too much just to find where you are, you are so angry at him every time your mind think of him its just loud and always the first thing to reach his radar and let him read whatever you think of. “God of foresight? More like a god of short-sighted to me! Hah!” Ah yes, he heard this too when you were drunk in Black Thunder.

All this time he knew you were up there at night, during daytime he would check on what stuff you brought up there. He is also the reason some of your food went missing whenever he feel like taking some bite. When you feel asleep, he always comes up just to check on you. “huh.. even marrying a troll sound easier than marrying you.” Heimdall sighed, eyes lingering on the stuffs you bring up here, clothes, food, blanket, pillow and back to your face. You look peaceful when you sleep, nothing on your mind. When you said you wanna grab the moon he laugh at you, but he didn’t know you meant it and when you almost fall his heart actually skipped a beat. Thanks to his foresight, he saw what coming next and catch you before you fall. Imagine losing your wife because you both fight and she decided to sleep on top on the wall and died cause she was drunk and wanted to grab the moon? This is ridiculous. I should put that spell on this woman so she will behave, is what he think right after that.

When you passed out and he brought you down from the wall, he did think of what happened between you two. Decided to just let what happened before slide and see if you two can get along. He sighed. What can he do now, especially right after his father gave him a lecture and sent him to do some work normally won’t do as a punishment. This woman better corporate and behave like a wife she should be. Heimdall looks at your face again. Thinking of what he can do to you if you disobey him, he grinned. “This is going to be fun.”

Cont.

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#heimdall x reader #heimdall #gow heimdall #heimdall fanfiction #gow ragnarok heimdall

[has-gilgamesh-doneanythingwrong]

Underappreciated servants? Not to be too basic, but could we maybe see some headcanons for Drake and a more reserved f!master? I feel like Drake gets glossed over a lot for some reason.

Hello, it's nice to hear from you! Your headcanon request is fine (though it has given me a LOT of room to go wild LOL). Yeah, Drake definitely could do with more content. Thanks for the request!

This is also my first time writing Drake, hope you enjoy. Thanks for waiting for so long.

Note: Drake x F! Master romance/homies headcanons. Also a bit of chaos (I guess?!)

Opposites Do Attract, After All (Drake x Reserved Female Master)

ׂׂૢ You and Drake make for a rather unlikely pair at first. With her love of brawls, adventure and booze; she makes for a rather loud individual, whilst your tendency to logically sort through things; as well as possessing a mind that not even the sharpest of warriors could peer inside- made you quite the mystery.

ׂׂૢ Despite that, both you and Drake hit things off right from the very start!!! Finding you to be a rather chill person to hang out with, it isn't long before she tries to loop you into her schemes; viewing you as none other than her 'comrade-in-arms'. "Heh, you up for some adventure? Let's go wild!" Hopefully you have an interest in income and treasure because, holy moly...she can't wait to get you involved with her acquirement of great new items (and the ensuing destructive chaos bound to follow).

ׂׂૢ However, this does not mean that she is only interested in having you assist her with such chaotic activities. She also enjoys casually joining you for a casual chinwag over drinks and food, discussing many things. Heck, she likes hearing you talk a bit as well; wanting to know more about you.

ׂׂૢ Though others may not be able to understand you or may judge you for being less talkative and more of a lone type, one as sharp-witted as Drake is able to get you from the start. So you definitely won't be getting any annoying assumptions about you being more on the quiet side from her. "You're you, after all." Be prepared for some chillingly accurate reads in the future, for she's got you down to a tee.

ׂׂૢ One day, she thrusts down a meal besides you, invites you to join her crew and outright says, "Hey, master! Wanna join us? Gotta say, you're goddamn interesting as heck. Feel free to come chat some time." Hopefully you'll enjoy some card games. Those are a great way to get to know one another. And besides, you're living it up by being true to yourself; making you a true pioneer of the pirate spirit!

ׂׂૢ Though Drake will take you along her journeys and show you her world, she won't force you to open up, nor will she judge you for being the type to hold back. As one who lives true to herself, Drake isn't that sort of person. Sure, she loves to party, but if you don't then that's no problem!

ׂׂૢ Uncovering the mind of such a reserved being is a gift of its own, after all! Thanks to her many experiences, though she may have a strong opinion; she tends to not be very judgmental; and is great to share a laugh with, or even a somber lament every now and then.

ׂׂૢ The two of you also bond over music, sharing your individual tastes with one another. The first time you showed her your music player (or smartphone or ipod etc), her eyes sparkled with joy at the surreal contraption, hungry to dig into its details straight away! Nowadays, the two of you share an earbud each, listening to one another's favorite songs and humming a tune. Drake loves sharing such a fun hobby in common.

ׂׂૢ If you ever need space, Drake's got you. Though she's a boisterous one, she's intuitive enough to get what's going on (it's helped her through many dangerous exploits). As long as you communicate clearly, the two of you will be able to work out any hiccups along the way. Though Drake may not easily let you on to how deeply she cares for you as an ally, her affection shines through her actions and behaviors.

ׂׂૢ Your reticent personality can also be soothing to Drake as well. Sometimes, she isn't in the mood to be loud, also enjoying some private time every now and then. Knowing that you won't expect her to provide all the entertainment is a great relief to her, enjoying just kicking back with you and chilling together.

ׂׂૢ As the two of you begin to grow closer, the distance between your worlds and timelines gradually decrease; as you find an increasingly precious wreath of information about one another. (And she may be trying to work out how to get into your mind as well. You know. Just for some fun.)

ׂׂૢ Drake eventually starts to open up a little about other sides to her as well, sharing more somber tales or talking about deeper topics at times. The way in which she can just let things go around you is great. Drake is glad to have put her trust in a master as great as you, however she may not let you know this; putting on a bit of a 'villainous pirate' façade instead.

Romance Side!!!!

ׂׂૢ Drake is rather subtle with her affection at first. Though she's completely direct with her platonic affection, when it comes to romance; she may start of rather simple, doing things such as occasionally resting her head in your lap when she's drunk, leaning onto you for comfort, or hanging out with you more often. Small physical gestures, and support may be more to her style.

ׂׂૢ In fact, she may not even confess for a while; simply content with just continuing on with things as usual. However, from the sheer comfort that you two feel when spending time together, it is clear that the two of you are now incredibly close-knit with one another.

ׂׂૢ In the early days, Drake may have lead you around more; but now she wants to see what you consider as an adventure as well; to understand what pleasures, sights and sounds bring you to life, as well; so she will definitely ask you what you want to do on your days out.

ׂׂૢ One fun pastime is watching the sea together, as you ease into one another's arms. It's a prosperous relationship between two souls, going at a pace that is both relaxing and even-tempered enough for you both, which makes for a great contrast to the chaos of your initial meeting.

"Seems like I've finally hit the jackpot, huh...thanks for the good times."

#francis drake #drake (fgo) #fate series #fgo #gilgawriting #fgo headcanons #mastersona #fate grand order #fgo fanfic #fgo x reader #HOW DO I EVEN TAG THIS #drake is hot. #I CALL U ON MY CELLPHONE... HOTLINE BLING lol wrong drake #f x f

[chronic-ghost]

He regarded you with light disdain but also something that resembled weariness, a tiredness that didn’t seem to fit the wealth exuded by his clothes. He carried something, some sadness.

The spirits whispered, shellshock. And then, heartbreak.

But you shook your head.

“Mr. Catledge, please be careful.”

Title: a brief, fragmentary, and most imperfect record of specters few have seen

summary: late summer. 1927. The absurdly wealthy Catledge siblings return to Pittsburgh after the older brother suffered heartbreak after a particularly public end to his engagement to the medium, Sophie Baker. They return quietly and Brice hopes that the monotony of embracing his father’s company can bring some stability back to his life. Until a girl from nowhere emerges from the smoke of a train and quite literally falls into his arms — and immediately predicts his untimely murder. Despite his insistence that he is done with pretty mediums, she comes with her own secrets he can’t seem to ignore. Is this girl the real thing or just another con artist? And if she really can see the dead, what will she see in him? Will she be one of the few who can see his specters for what they really are? 

pairings: Brice Catledge/Reader

category: M/F

rating: M

archive warning: depictions of violence, tw for discussions and depictions of domestic abuse/violence, survivor’s guilt

tags: reader has psychometry, references to WW1, 1920s tennis matches, cable girl adventures, meet cutes at the train station, library sex, making out on beaches, angst but happy ending!

playlist for the fic: the ghost of you

fanart for the fic:  thank you 🤯 to @aherdofbees for this BEAUTIFUL PIECE! 

(AO3 Links: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9)

                                       Read the next chapter below!

Chapter 9: aris moriendi

T W O  W E E K S  A G O

The fire crackles behind the thick metal grate, the arch of night just beyond its midpoint outside the crimson drapes. On the oak desk, the tumbler’s nearly empty, the ice melted and whiskey watered down beyond recognition. Were it not for the faint flicker of flames, the room would be in total darkness.

He sits and stares and knows it’s becoming an obsession. In the light of day, he would not call it that. Even now that word is wrong, but in the spiral of darkness his mind follows, it’s the only word that lingers there. Drawings of her have now grown so numerous, they liter the floor. The latest hovers in the flames, her smile, her cheeks consumed by a faint red edge before transforming into black ash.

It’s not obsession, he muses. He knew what that felt like and this isn’t it. Sophie was obsession, infection, an infestation – and this girl was none of those. No, instead, it is an external force drawing him to her, instead of internal. Like space dust attached to a comet, he feels dragged along by something greater than himself – something that humbles him and makes him feel more powerful than any creature alive. His chest roars with it.

In some way, he knows she feels it too. Haunted by inevitability.

In one of his better moods, his father had taken the family to the British Museum when he was just a child. While Caroline had shown interest more in the anatomy wing, he had been taken with great fascination by a giant, smooth circle made of stone. The whole thing was concave, the very center disappearing into a small hole, and with a free shilling from his father, he watched with rapturous delight as the shilling spun round and round, whistling as it went, down the sides until it looped tightly before disappearing entirely.

The effect itself was marvelously entertaining, but when a second shilling was added, his child's mind almost couldn’t comprehend: no matter when a second coin was added, no matter how long they raced in parallel, they would also disappear together.

Ghostly ashes of a dozen sketches curl up beneath the fire. He thinks about those coins and the duality of physics, long into the night. Long after the fire swallowed up the logs and died, satisfied and full. He remembers the loops, the shrill rush of the metal against the stone, the blur of children’s hands as they lunged forward to try and snatch the coins as they spun. But they missed each and every time. Each and every time, the coins spun and spun and spun until they overlapped, their ringing loud, and consumed each other, a single silver blur where once there were two.

*~*~*

N O W

It was nearly two in the morning when the party on the island finally came to a close. After some lazy packing that consisted mostly of smaller items being thrown into anything that could carry them and every open champagne bottle was raced to be finished, Caroline had taken the wheel of the boat and drove them back to the mainland. In a monumental act of self-discipline, she had stopped imbibing hours ago, seemingly content to dance and eat and drink nothing heavier than water from the metal pitchers. She was still red-faced, though more from the sun than being a giddy drunk, as she announced that it was time for the magic to end.

“We, unfortunately, all must wake up from this lovely dream!” The crowd of beautiful people at her feet groaned and booed. She nodded sagely. “Yes, yes, it is quite terrible, but we tempt the eye of the gods if we misbehave too long without reprimand. We must not burn too hot or bright lest we burn out!”

“Impossible!” yelled one of the redheads spread out beneath a white towel over the sand.

“Tis true, my loves!” Caroline scolded, her beauty only magnified by the light of the lanterns on the cooling sand, the echo of waves adding music to her voice. “Wake up and face the consequences.”

Consequences, you thought darkly as the spray of foamy water brushed over your face as the boat raced along the black waves. What did Caroline Catledge know of consequences?

Hopefully, nothing.

Nothing at all, you begged to an indifferent universe – neither she nor her brother would ever know how close you got to destroying their lives, if there was any kindness in the elementary make up of this existence. Because the instant you touched land, you decided firmly and resolutely, you would disappear from their lives. Consequences from Tom be damned.

And it seemed Brice knew it.

He said nothing when you walked back to the party silently, over the hill and down the dark lane back to the beach. You couldn’t quite look straight at him, out of fear of what you might say or do, so he did it all for you. He pressed the cup of his hand gently around your wrist and when you allowed that, he slid forward and held your hand. Held it, then squeezed it the longer you let him touch you. Like a fire consuming treeline after treeline, he touched more and more of you until, as the boat carried the party home – its passengers sun-warm and skin flushed with the bubbles of champagne – he folded himself around you where you stood at the bow of the boat, in the darkness of the night. He pressed a worried kiss to your hairline as if he knew you would float away the moment he let go. Fear never made him frantic, as though speed would only burn the matchsticks faster, but instead more assuredly, his movements weighted and steady. To smother and embrace.

Despite the wind, the air was thick with words he didn’t say and words you couldn’t bear to hear.

Your skin went colder and colder the longer the boat soared across the black lines of water, the moon bright and prying as if the party was in fact being watched by some otherworldly being. Soon your cheeks began to sting and your teeth chattered and Brice lended more and more of himself to you; both arms around your shoulders, his chest, his hips, all aligned with yours as more and more of you turned to cold stone.

You were jostled, a grim awareness of touching land again, then a bustle as you were transferred from the boat to a warm car, the dull echoes of the party all around you and yet nothing affected you. Nothing made its way in until it was too late.

You blinked and the smell of algae was replaced with pine and gravel. From water went rolling hills and the spark of the city in the distance, until the road ran long and dark and the drive went into the countryside. To an earthy grave.

Through all of this change, through your skin melting from porcelain to ivory to steel, finally back to flesh in the back of this warm, dark car, his hand never left yours and it was this, amongst the rush and crash of chaos, amongst the years of hiding and the loneliness of being misunderstood, you finally could tell him.

“Brice,” you murmured against his shoulder, now covered in dark blue wool instead of a wetsuit. His breathing changed slightly, as if waking up from a shallow sleep. “Brice. I have to tell you something.”

“What is it, darling?” Where the moonlight did not fall, where your lap and his must have been but instead were intertwined in the darkness, you felt him gently squeeze your hand where he held it in his.

With a deep breath, you searched for his face, then his eyes, his features smudged in the absence of light. He smelled faintly sweet, the ghost of champagne smearing the inside of his mouth, and of lake water, of comfort and warmth. You wanted nothing more than to curl up inside him, inside that broad chest, and tell him because there would be consequences – of this you were absolutely sure – but at least you would have the strength of courage on your side to look him in the eyes and tell him every horrible thing you had done, were about to do but your love, your undying love stopped you because even putting him in an ounce of pain, you’d rather be boiled alive.

Swallowing and sitting up out of his arms, you took his sleeve between your fingers, wondering if there would be any sense to what you were about to say or if it would just come out in a triumphant stream like a fire hydrant with the cap knocked off.

You opened your mouth –

And a strange noise came out of it.

“We’re here, Mr. Catledge,” said the cabbie. The car slowed to a stop and the noise continued, grew louder.

For a single moment that seemed to stretch on through time and infinity – a moment that was forever perfect and still and uninterrupted or tarnished – the mansion behind you lit up Brice Catledge, his face achingly, hauntingly beautiful in the golden luminosity. Every dark line of his lips, every generous curve around his nose, the fine hairs of his brows, the lush pink of his cheeks – it was all incredibly yours if you could just take it. And in the center of this face, this angelic face, he stared straight ahead at you, with nothing but adoring love beaming from his gaze.

Love in that moment was as palpable as moonlight. As if designed by magic.

And then came the eclipse.

“Strange, isn’t it, Mr. Catledge. That the police should be here so late.”

The car door opened, the siren still screeching behind you, and you almost tumbled onto the ground, were it not for Brice grabbing your forearms.

His shadow was unmistakable, though you had only caught it once before. In the grimy shadows of a room in the basement of the police station.

“So glad you joined us here, miss,” Detective Robinson said, his voice as heavy as concrete. “Makes things easier. You’re under arrest.”

*~*~*

The vaulted ceiling of the foyer had never been so bright, your eyes fluttering to adjust from the darkness outside to the intense white light, as if you were under the pointed and unforgiving gaze of a doctor’s operating theater. One of the bully police officers behind you harshly knocked against your shoulder the instant you had taken a second to let your eyes adjust. Keep moving, his scowl seemed to say, as if you were some sort of flight risk.

But then again, perhaps you were. The emotions had been washed clean from your body and a pounding ache was beginning just above your left eyebrow. What kind of person were you when put on trial?

If it was half the person you were on a good day, then the officer had every right to grip you roughly by the elbow.

“I demand an explanation.” Brice rounded on Robinson the moment he entered the foyer, a finger raised. “You cannot just show up on my property and make outrageous demands.”

If the detective was bothered or ruffled by seeing a man who was moments away from starting a physical brawl, he appeared completely unbothered by it.

“Can I smoke in here?” he asked.

Brice flushed red as Caroline came around the two guards at the front, her hair still windswept.

“You absolutely may not,” she snapped, her eyes red and dry. She made no attempt to be modest and hide her swim pajamas from the leering policemen. “You’re ruining my birthday party.”

You could see the smeared black mascara under and around her eyes. The flush had sunken low in her cheeks and her hair had lost that smooth, glossy shine. She looked wind-swept, a little blurred, but fierce-eyed, as if her eyes were two black stones at the bottom of a rushing river.

You couldn’t even begin to look at Brice. So, as the bright lights adjusted to your eyes, you realized there were more people in the foyer than you originally saw. Your eyes met his moments before he opened his thin mouth.

“Mr. Catlege, Ms. Catledge, I deeply apologize for this intrusion. This was not how I intended for any of this to happen, but these things are outside of my control.” Peeling off the wall like a leech letting go after it had its fill, Mr. Crock slid up next to Detective Robinson. He was grinning in a way that seemed to split the lines on his face wide open, the faint white hair powdering his face like pile on the body of an insect.

“Mr. Crock, what are you doing here?” Brice asked. Despite the redness from the sun, his skin had a damp pallor to it that made your stomach twist.

The grin on Crock’s face slipped, a wholly different expression taking over his lean features. His shoulders hunched a bit, and that waxy mouth turned downwards.

“Oh, Mr. Catledge, none of this brings me any joy to tell you any of this. Please know if there’s anything my family can do for you, just ask.”

Brice’s brilliant beautiful mouth thinned to white line and the muscle in his cheek twitched. For a fraction of a second, you could have sworn his gaze jumped to you before remaining steadfast on Crock, then to Robinson.

“Alright, that’s enough. It’s very late and I’m very tired. There’s only a few hours remaining of my sister’s birthday and I’d like to celebrate it with my family. If you can’t explain why you made such a horrendous claim out on my front lawn, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

While Crock had sobered up, those sickly lips still twisted downwards, Robinson’s expression hadn’t changed. His hands deep in his navy slacks, his salt and pepper mustache twitched once before his steel gray eyes fell on something down the hall, behind the wall, and he nodded.

There was a shuffling, as if clumsy feet were dragged across a marble floor, and three men stumbled out into the foyer. Two of them were exactly like the men at your side: wide, square-jawed, built like pugilists made to fight mountains, and wearing officers' uniforms. Indistinguishable from one another, you didn’t recognize either one, but the third one, the one in between, hand-cuffed and glowering, was –

“Tom,” you breathed and it felt like your last. The air was sucked from your lungs in a single devastating punch. Your two worlds had collided, finally, intensely and sickeningly, and you were standing in the crater, smoke rising from the ground.

You could feel the blood draining from your face.

“Who the hell is this?” Caroline sighed, as if all of this was simply an inconvenience, a stumbling block between her and her plush, feather-down mattress on the second floor.

Brice stared at your husband, more confused than irritated with that straight line between his eyebrows. Oh God, he hadn’t figured it out yet.

Crock slid forward, his eyes downcast. “Sir, madam, if I may, I hope to bring you some clarity, if not peace.” He somehow managed to sound sincerely contrite.

Brice nodded, the corners of his eyes tightening. “Go on, then.”

“As a long time friend of the family and someone who saw your own father as a brother, not only a business partner, I only wanted the best for you Catledge children . . . which is why after learning your new acquaintance claimed to be another psychic, I had her looked into.”

Both Caroline and Brice erupted into outrage.

I thought I told you to leave it alone!

Crock, you have finally gone too far!

How dare you!

You had no right to do that!

“Let him speak.” Robinson cut through both of them without moving in his position. His slate gray eyes were fixated on something on the floor, but his voice was as loud as a shotgun. The siblings stared at him, eyes wide.

Brice swallowed. It was dawning on him that something wasn’t right.

“I know now it was a breach of privacy,” Crock continued, wincing as though burned. “But believe me, I did it with the best of intentions. And you should know I found something. Something you should know. She’s in debt. Massive debt.”

You blinked, slowly as though concussed.

For the first time all night, you really looked at your husband. A purple ring swelling over his eye, his shoulders hunched and hands bound behind him, you had never seen such an expression on his face. It was as if the thing that had been Tom had closed up shop and left the building. There was nothing in his eyes. No fear, no guilt, no sadness, no remorse. He was selling you up the river and he didn’t feel a damn thing about it.

He had taken loans out in your name, you realized in that elegant, glorious foyer. His greed had exceeded far beyond what you had ever expected.

Have you ever thought about doing some good with your gifts?

Hey, my buddy Rob is coming over today, why don’t you show ‘em what you can do, eh?

Oh, doll, I’ve lost my hat. Can you find it for me?

You were ruined. In every sense of the word.

“Gambling debts, a mile long.” Crock went on, shaking his head. “Collectors began calling in early summer. The bank was foreclosing on the house next week. To say she was desperate wouldn’t be justice.”

Next week. Tom’s deadline. Everything lined up. All of it happened without you having the faintest idea.

“Desp– ,” Brice began but then stopped as if his throat closed. He still didn’t see it. “Desperate to do what?”

Crock turned towards him, as if he were the only person in the room, his eyes soft, and you saw how big men like the Catledge elder might have confided in him. “Mr. Catledge, has she asked you for any money?”

The light. The first thing that changed about his face as the understanding struck him, was the light in his eyes.

It faded.

Then he went bone white. The color of teeth.

“Just as I suspected.” Crock nodded sagely, sadly, gleefully. “But it wasn’t going to be enough. She didn’t have the time to ask for all the money required to pay off the debts. Asking for an amount all at once like that would be suspicious. No, a conwoman like her knows when to play her hand and she couldn’t risk it. But she was desperate. Time was short so she had to resort to more . . . aggressive measures. Detective, if you please.”

Robinson glanced up, as though remembering there were other people in the room. His fingers twitched to his jacket pocket, where his pack of cigarettes sat, but he left them alone. Instead, his hand went back to his pocket and retrieved his notebook. He flipped, casually, unhurried, until stopping on one of the last pages.

“At twenty four hundred hours, a Mr. Bramley reported a break-in to the police and five minutes past the midnight hour, a patrol car was dispatched to investigate. Upon arrival, the officers on the scene identified a broken window in the first floor office and the bottom drawer of an oak desk had been cracked open with a crowbar left at the scene. Further investigation of the grounds found the perpetrator hiding in the nearby woods. Perpetrator was identified as Tom Beauford with the evidence still on his person.”

Every muscle in your body locked up. Every breath was low and shallow. The corners of your vision blurred.

You had told him exactly where to find it. It had been your plan but he couldn’t wait. Not with the collectors. Not with the bank calling.

You had told him exactly where to plunge the knife.

“Detective, please show Mr. Catledge the evidence.”

Robinson lifted his gaze and something softened for a moment before he reached back into his pocket for something smaller than his notebook. Smaller than a box of cigarettes.

It arched as it left his hand before landing squarely in Brice’s lap. He caught it and stumbled, as if it weighed a thousand pounds. He slipped on the marble, backwards, until he caught the low wooden bench by the back of the knees and he crumpled onto the flat seat. He stared at the small box as though he expected it to catch fire.

“Further investigation concludes that Tom Beauford is listed in the Hall of Records, amongst birth and marriage licenses, as her husband. Married four years this May.

Robinson dropped his gaze to you and snapped the booklet shut with finality.

And there it was. All out in the open. They had some things right, but the rest of it was wrong. So very wrong, but it was there.

All exposed.

You searched and clawed and begged to find your voice. You swallowed. His name was the first word that came to you.

“Brice.”

He didn’t look up. He just . . . flinched.

“Brice–,”

Crock coughed, a dissatisfied sound. “Now you understand why we arrested her on the front lawn. They clearly are working together to not only rob you of your money, but swindle you of your engagement ring. Now if you’d be so kind as to share how much she asked for and we can add embezzlement charges as well.”

The first sound he made wasn’t a word but a sound, softly, barely audible. Nothing more than a groan, low from the back of his throat, as though something had dislodged with him. A rib. An organ. Displanted. Ruptured.

And then came his words.

“No.” His elbows rested on his knees, his face obscured by his curls. He held the box loosely with his fingers. “No. This . . . came to an end before either of us said anything we’d come to regret.”

Crock tutted then waved at the detective as if he were ordering around a servant. “Well, we’ll address that bit later. But for now, let’s allow the Catledges retire for the evening. Robinson, round up the criminals and take them to the station.”

Thick hands clasped your upper arms and the pressure startled something in you, breaking loose the voice you couldn’t find earlier.

“Brice, please –,” you gasped.

Again, he flinched. The arch of his shoulders went taught, then loosened, then went tight again.

“I don’t want to press charges.”

Crock stilled. Robinson lifted his eyes again. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not . . .” Brice swallowed. Every word he spoke was labored, rough, as though he had to dig it out from the pits of his guts. “Let them go. Both of them. I’m not pressing charges for the break-in or the attempted robbery. I’m – I’m not . . .”

“Brice.”

But that wasn’t you. Caroline, sun-drenched and narrow, crossed the marble floor, her eyes fixated on her brother, before freezing. She stood mere feet from you.

“How much?”

Crock was losing control of the situation and it was clear he had no idea how that happened. “How much is what, dear girl?”

“How much are the debts?”

“Well over ten grand,” Robinson said. His expression had changed. Curiosity breached his thick brows. Like a shark smelling blood.

“Bramley, my check book if you please.”

In the folds of her linen pants, her fists trembled.

There was a shuffling, the trample of feet, and then the old butler handed over a pad of yellow square notes. The shakes in her hands were gone as she wrote something, furiously scribbling. And with a tear that sounded like the clap of thunder, she yanked the check free and, without warning, slammed the check into your chest with the force of a full shove. You stumbled, your ribs aching, into the two officers behind you.

“Caroline,” you croaked.

You had never seen anger like that before. Never in your parents, or even Tom. It was more anguish than anger. More devastation than ire but it came out just the same.

“Think of it as payment. In exchange, we never, ever have to see you again.”

Sounds came to you as if you were underwater. Distant. Low. Wavering at the edges.

Everything happened so quickly after that.

Robinson peeled off the wall and the officers took you by the arms again. Caroline ran to her brother’s side but the shoulder of the giant man next to you blocked your vision before she got to him.

“No, wait–,” here at the end, you tried to speak. “Caroline – Brice, please let me explain–”

The cold night air hit you like a slap in the face as the officers dragged you out onto the front porch. Your joints felt swollen, numb but you pushed back.

“Stop. Let me talk to him. I need to – get your hands off me – Brice!”

It took the two men, one grabbing your feet and the other holding your chest back to take you to the police car waiting outside. You could feel yourself becoming hysterical but you didn’t care. Couldn’t.

“Put me down! Brice, please, I have to – let me just – let me go!”

The door slammed shut and you scrambled to the window. You fought the door handle but it’d had been locked from the outside. You wanted to scream, yanking furiously, panicked against the handle with a feverish intensity. Your sweaty palms streaked across the window as the car lurched into motion.

“Brice, n-n-no, Brice,” you hiccup, fighting against the restraints. “No, p-p-please, let me out. I can’t do this to him. He can’t think that I –,”

Those slate gray eyes pinned you in the rearview mirror.

“Doesn’t matter what he thinks. He just wants you gone.”

*~*~*

Outside, a storm raged. You sat at the edge of your marital bed, in the house Tom purchased for you both after you had gotten married. It all smelled the same. Same hot patches, and cold spikes in the air. Not thing had changed and yet . . .

Lightning flashed, the sound of thunder shaking the thin walls and copper pipes, the white light spilling over the ridges and valleys of the body next to you. Tom, with his swelling black eye, was silent when the pair of you left the car, silent when he let you both back into the house, silent as you both went to bed and fell asleep. He didn’t look at you. He didn’t touch you. You moved around him, as if you were vapor. As if you were a ghost.

As if you never meant anything in the first place.

His back was to you, obscuring his face, but you don’t sleep next to someone for years and not know when they were awake.

“Tom.” Rain slapped the glass windows, like anxious claws. “Tom. I have something to tell you.”

His body didn’t move, didn’t change.

“I’m leaving you. I’m leaving you and I’m telling you this time because you’re not going to follow me. Do you understand?”

Another thunderclap and you thought you saw him turn but it was just the rain reflecting on the scratchy gray blanket over his shoulders.

“Where are you going to go?” He asked almost softly, almost surprised.

At one point, he knew. And he knew what it meant to take you away from that place. And he knew what it meant to go back.

The door to the phonebooth clicked beneath a grumble of thunder as warm rain poured over the crest of your forehead and down your cheeks, your neck, your shoulders. Hands empty of anything that were yours, you sat down on the concrete step, streaming water slipping off your eyelashes and into your mouth. The night was dark, the torrential downpour obscuring the faint yellow light coming from the windows of the townhouses on the block.

Are you alright? Did you sleep in your clothes?

You can hear Emily’s voice, bright and loud, and there’s such an ache in your chest for the boarding house you nearly stop breathing.

I’ll tell the other girls to say the same, if they see anyone. Come, inside, dinner’s almost done.

You would have given anything to sit at Martina’s table – the smells, the taste of her fresh cooking, the sound of indulgent laughter. Those girls, that place – it had been a refuge, a place of strength when you felt helpless. When you couldn’t imagine your life being any different from where you came.

Now, the memories kept you seated, despite your soaking wet clothes and the wavering sense of drowning beneath the outpouring, kept you from going back into the dark and the gray blankets. You shuddered from the cold and from the ache in your chest.

If things were ever going to change, they had to get better right now, right at this very moment. Whatever was ahead, it was unknown, but at least it wasn’t what was behind you.

Soldiers from the war often spoke of a phantom limb, pain existing from a loss of a thing that was no longer there. There was something within you that had been irrevocably severed but you still felt it. There but not there. Even the ghosts in your head never felt this close.

In fact, they had been remarkably silent for the past day and a half. There was space inside your head and for a moment you wished there wasn’t. At least with them, you carried someone with you. At least with them, you weren’t completely alone.

A glistening shadow emerged in the night. A long black car turned round the corner, its lights flashing like the eyes of a snake, and when it stopped by the phone booth, you opened the door and got in.

*~*~*

T H R E E  W E E K S  L A T E R

Breakfast with your parents was a silent affair.

Outside, birds chirped and the gardener snipped back any fly-away leaves, sculpting perfect hedges – startling in their uniformity. Down the long front lawn, a car rolled by, the tires treading loudly on the gravel as it went by the front iron gates. You waited, your breath in your chest, for your mother to stand up, sigh with the same intonation as a burst balloon, and slam the heavy curtains shut. Too much light was bad for your mother’s condition, the doctor claimed only ever in writing. What that condition was exactly was as much a mystery to you as why she let in so much of the outside world today while she was eating.

Your mother liked the dark, the sounds that muffled things made, and her rituals. Since returning home, you had been expected to respect and immediately become a part of those things and like muscle memory, you eased back into it. Tom had always been so appreciative of how quiet you were. He too didn’t like a lot of noise.

Lost in your thoughts, your hand slipped and the spoon swirling your morning tea clinked once against the side of the tea cup. Like the twitch of a tiger’s tail, your mother’s gaze snapped away from her bloody red grapefruit to you; things that made noise became the focus of her attention.

“Sit up straight, darling, you’re slouching.”

You adjusted in your seat and the dress she selected for you dug into your back.

“What are your plans for today?” she asked and delicately drank her tea, her head balanced on some imaginary level. She asked despite having arranged your tutor herself.

“Etiquette lessons until one,” you said, head down and staring at the single bit of dirt on your mother’s linen table runner. “Then classics study with Ms. Abigail, and finally practicing piano until dinner.”

“Good.” She frowned as her eyes roamed your face, as if picking out a prized cow from a herd. “We shall also have the stylist come by tomorrow. When’s the last time you got a haircut? Your split ends are ghastly.”

“Yes, Mother.” You knew not to eat until she was finished.

She drank from her cup again, elegantly pleased, and she nodded. “Isn’t it lovely that everyone is back home again? It’s almost as if you never left, dear.”

This was how it was going to be. Every day of your life. You were safe, high up in your ivory tower, away from everyone and everything. But that was a prison of its own. A prison you chose and designed yourself.

You purposefully dig the dress into your back. “Yes, Mother.”

Across the table, your father makes his presence known by flourishing the day’s paper and clearing his throat.

“Veronica,” he began, addressing your mother, in his usual bored drawl, “did you hear that that Catledge boy got his car blown up?”

The world lurched and for a moment you thought you were going to projectile vomit across the breakfast linens.

“That’s the second attempt on his life, isn’t it?” He asked of no one. “Quite shocked they managed to miss him again. Surprised the Catledges don’t just go back to Europe until this whole nasty business just blows over.”

You grabbed a fork to steady yourself, to feel something cold over your heated skin.

“What else does it say?” You blurted out. Too much and your chest would explode. “Do they have any suspects?”

Your father’s frown met you over his newspaper, as if just now realizing you were there. He opened his mouth to respond but your mother cut him off.

“Can we not talk about violence at the breakfast table? It gives me such a headache.” And there came the sigh that had been hanging over all morning. “Ah, dear Eustice, my pills, right away.”

The maid stationed at the door silently went out as the housekeeper, Mrs. Winters, came in. She bowed appropriately.

“Ma’am, there’s a doctor MacIntosh here to see you. Says you had an early morning appointment.”

Beleaguered and sighing, your mother nodded as your father folded up his newspaper, expectantly. He stood and helped your mother to her feet.

“Your mother is trying a new doctor,” he said again to no one, but you were the only other person in the room. “This one has some experimental treatment out of Australia.”

Your mouth dried up. No. There was no way. No possibility that it could be –

But that red hair was unfortunately unmistakable. Mac, the very same one as all those Catledge parties, with her tweed jacket, bowler’s cap, and brilliantly intelligent blue eyes. She shook hands with your father first, whose eyes nearly bugged out when he saw a woman in pants, before gently taking your mother’s limp rag of a hand and cupping it over her own.

“Good morning, sir, and ma’am. So sorry we have to meet under these circumstances. But I can assure you and your family that –,” As she spoke, she glanced, full of genuinity, to your father, your mother, and then to you. She stopped in the middle of her sentence, eyes wide as if she had just been slapped.

Your mother, irritated she stopped being the center of attention for a moment, stood up right and looked over her shoulder at you.

“Do you know my daughter, Dr. MacIntosh?”

You both responded; “No.” “A little.”

Mac recovered herself and her smile softened her shocked face. “Only a little. I think we saw each other at a social event, here or there. No matter. Let’s get you situated on the couch.”

You couldn’t stop staring. Mac was in your house. Mac who was with the Catledges’ frequently. Spoke to them. Probably had seen Brice since the car explosion –

Your heart nearly wrenched itself out of your chest and you stood up. All three sets of eyes fell on you and again your mother glared at you for the competition.

“Uh, can I help?” You asked. There came a flicker of understanding in Mac’s eyes, before she turned and patted your mother’s hand.

“What a kind daughter you have, ma’am. If it would be alright with you, I could use some assistance preparing your medicine.”

With a groan as though gripped in the throes of agony, your mother nodded and leaned back on the couch, her hand over her eyes and your father tutted, dabbing her brow with his napkin.

Glancing at the door, Mac picked up her case and motioned for you to follow. Astutely, she walked with ease and knowledge directly to the servants kitchen – a smaller room where servants were allowed to prepare their own meals and eat outside of on-duty hours.

You followed her, your heart in your throat, as she shut the door behind you.

How perfectly stupid you had been. Maybe she wanted you alone to yell at you because of what you had done to her friends. Maybe she wanted to accuse you again of murder, because clearly crime was something you were comfortable with and –

Mac dropped her bag and in two swift steps enveloped you in such a tight hug it made your knees buckle.

“Oh, sweet thing, I am so sorry.”

The heady combination of genuine compassion and sorrow obliterated any resistance you had left and your eyes filled with tears that burst out the corner of your eyes. You tightened your hold on her the harder you cried.

You had cried so much that first week. You laid in bed, curled up, sobbing, feeling as though you were going to choke on your heart. It wasn’t until days later you realized your mother hadn’t bothered you. No one, for better or worse, came in to check on you. It was the nicest thing your mother had ever done.

When you could literally feel your skin drying out from all the tears you shed, you had gone and asked your mother’s handmaid for a new dress and the next morning your mother arrived with an itinerary to keep you busy and that was the end of it. But this – Mac and her kindness and her compassion and her belief in you – this pushed you over the edge again.

“Mac – Oh, God, Mac – what have I done?”

“Shhh, none of it was your fault, lovey.” She petted the back of your head. “I heard all about it the next day and knew it was wrong. The things they accused you of, I knew you couldn’t do it.”

“He didn’t even press charges, Mac!” You sobbed into her shoulder. “Why would he do that if he b-b-believed them?”

Mac tutted and pulled back, offering you a handkerchief from her pocket. She patted your cheek, her blue eyes soft, as you wiped your eyes. “I think the answer to that is a bit more complicated than you might think.”

Your heart dropped, the idea too ridiculously painful to contemplate, but so wonderful you thought you might burst out of your lungs. In your emotional state, the spirits swooped in, chattering and yelling. They had come back full force in the past few days, and you hadn’t even left the room until your mother’s attendant came back with new gloves – the old ones were unwearable, according to your mother. The force by which they pounced made you dizzy and Mac, noticing you swaying on your feet, took you by the shoulder and had you sit at the small wooden table.

“How – how is he, Mac?” You sniffed, shoving off the dizzy spell as Mac got you some water from the tap.

Her face fell, worry shifting to something deeper. “Not good, darling. Not good. Last week I got a call from George, asking if I’d come do a wellness check on him, but when I got there, he refused to see anyone. After that, no one’s been around at all, to see any of them. You drive by, and it sometimes looks like no one lives there anymore. I’ve tried to share ‘round to the gossips that it’s just because of the second attempt on his life, that they’re closing ranks for safety, but . . .”

She returned and handed you the glass. The water looked slippery and thick. You set it down, swallowing dry air in the back of your throat. She sat across from you and rubbed her eyes with her fingers.

“I know all of that was cooked up by that weaslly little Crock. He’s always been a dirty brown-noser–,”

“Mac!”

“Well, it’s true! But, darling, I really must know,” she leaned forward and took you by the hands, “are you really married to that man, Tom?”

You swallowed, then nodded, then shook your head. “I was. My parents and their very expensive lawyer managed to annul the marriage without his signature last week. But it wasn’t difficult, given they could not find any evidence that the marriage happened in the first place.”

“But it was in the Hall of Records.”

“But no license. Nothing with his signature or mine on it.” You shrugged, wiping your eyes with the back of  our hand. “I suppose someone recorded it, but apparently it didn’t hold up to legal snuff. It doesn’t matter anyway. Brice thinks my husband and I tried to swindle him.”

Mac sat back, her eyes narrowing. “Does Brice know you’re here? That you’ve left Tom?”

You shrugged again and sniffed. “I can’t imagine he would. I never told him about my parents, who they were. For all he knows, we’re blowing his family money on even more gambling. Besides, I don’t know what he would do if he did know, that I was here.”

She watched you, a frown on her face smeared between pity and sorrow. “Like I said, I think it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

She stood and began to take several vials out of her bag. She traded the liquid back and forth between them before shaking one of them and handing the vial to you.

“Now, give this to your mother three times a day. Should help with the headaches, numbness, and malaise.”

You held it up to the light. “What is it?”

Mac grinned subtly. “Brand new regiment called a placebo.”

You laughed, the sound wet, despite your eyes being dry. She grinned gently, her blue eyes going soft again, as she put a hand on your cheek.

You could almost hear the music, taste the sweet drink on your tongue, feel the rush of bodies on the dancefloor the night of the fundraiser in the garden. You and Mac had laughed for what felt like hours and there was something soothing having her touch you, stand before you, knowing it was all real and not some beautiful dream. You closed your eyes and leaned into her palm.

“Don’t give up, darling.” She said softly, fiercely. “It’s not all lost. He’s grieving because he’s been lied to – they all are – but not by you. He doesn’t want you to give up on him, I know it.”

“Mac, I broke his heart,” you cried, your eyes wet again. “I did the one thing he swore would never happen again.”

“What happened between you two, it takes two people.” Your heart swelled and your eyes opened. She smiled again. “He doesn’t care about the past. Only the future. Only one with you in it.”

“So what do I do, Mac?” You gasped, pleading. The hand that held the tissue shook. “How do I change things?”

“You fight, dear girl. You fight.”

*~*~*

You watched Mac’s car drive away down the lane from your window. The instant she was gone, you yanked off your gloves and strode towards your bed where the doctor’s handkerchief laid. You snatched it up and the immediate force of the psychic connection brought you to your knees. You gasped at the pain of the images rippling through your skull.

Mac picking up groceries from the local boy at her back door.

Mac drinking something of lemon and vodka.

Mac touching the face of a beautiful girl across from her in a dark club.

“No–,” you snarled, clenching the cloth in your hands tighter. “No–,”

Mac blotting the skin of a dying man in his elegant bedclothes.

Mac wiping her mouth after a meal at a hotel on the edge of the ocean.

Mac sitting –

You ground your teeth as you grasped the memories with an iron fist and pulled them back from your skull. They held on in strands, memories and sensations and feelings all rushing to drive a wedge between you and sanity the longer you held onto the cloth.

“NO!”

Your grip slipped and the pain knocked you onto your back.

They had all come true. It was three in the morning on day three of the deluge when you realized every image you had seen the morning on the train platform had come to pass. And they had all involved moments with you and Brice. They had all come to pass. All, except for one.

Mac’s memories were half-formed now, stifled, as they tried to cram their way in. The spirits shuddered and groaned around you, shrieking above the gloom, desperate to be heard.

You focused on one voice, a single voice – a single smell you inhaled on the front steps of a beautiful mansion. In front of a beautiful man.

Lords of England. Cigars. Whiskey. An elegant glass.

You clawed into that memory like it was a lifeline.

Music, then. Soft music played to a woman who meant a great deal to the smoker. A man who by conflicting accounts was either a great man or a great father but he was not both, but still he lingered. Still he watched out for those who he loved – and you knew them – yes, you know his son –

Gasping, head feeling like it was about to split open, slowly you sat up, the handkerchief still clutched in your fist.

The roar of memories slowed as you concentrated on one singular sensation; the Lords of England smoke.

And then a memory of your own.

Soft, brown eyes. A drop of curly hair across a wide brow. A smile. God, a smile that made you light up.

An anchor. Amidst the chaos and the noise and the pain, you had found an anchor.

With a grin, your chest still heaving and your head spinning, you looked down at your hand. Still you held Mac’s handkerchief. There was some noise, yes, but now you could watch her go about her day as though you stood just behind her. Call to you any memory she made while she kept this bit of cloth on her person.

The spirits were quiet, subdued into control. A river running in the back of your mind. You could pay attention to it or not if you wished.

Swallowing, you stood up and got water from the pitcher. Drinking slowly, you checked the locks on your bedroom door again.

With a sigh you tossed the handkerchief on the bed and sat at your desk while you finished your water. When the sweat had cooled, you stood up and prepared yourself for the dark wave to come crashing down. And you would do it, time and time again until you no longer had to drag yourself out.

This time would be different. This time you would practice and practice until you no longer drowned beneath the weight of your gift.

Because you had an anchor.

Because you had him.

Your fingers flinched as you reached out.

Again.

#brice catledge #brice catledge x reader #brice catledge/reader #brice catledge x you #brice catledge/you #hamish linklater #magic in the moonlight

[thepurpleroom-if]

K Larue (The Partner)

Gender: Male or Female

Age: 27

Height: 5'9"/175 cm (M) or 5'5"/165 cm (F)

Role: Long-time partner and best friend.

Detailed personality description:

Cheerful and friendly. Their cheerfulness lightens the atmosphere even in the darkest of cases. Know the names of every person in town and remember each one of them (but seriously, they remember each one of them).

Sweet and thoughtful. Known for their considerate nature, always ready to lend a listening ear and offer support (basically a go-to person). Their thoughtfulness extends to small gestures that show they genuinely care about the well-being of their friends and coworkers (even though they hate some of them).

Clingy. Will make every effort to stay very close to you 24/7. If they find you not coming in for work, they will knock on your door, demand that you open the door, or they will kick it down.

Mischievous and impulsive. Always up to something with or without supervision. Known for their impulsive decisions, which can sometimes lead to unexpected outcomes, both positive and negative.

Jealous. Very jealous person. Even when they see you talking to a child and that child is making you laugh, they will try to grab your attention and usher you to a different location while sticking their tongue out to mock the kid.

Job qualities: Courageous, ambitious, competence, and resilience.

H Moreno (The Captain)

Gender: Male or Female

Height: 6'2"/185 cm (M) or 5'10"/177 cm (F)

Age: 33

Role: Captain of your police precinct.

Detailed personality description:

Serious and intimidating. Their stern expression and commanding presence demand respect from colleagues and subordinates. The wrinkles in their forehead cannot be any deeper.

Rational and direct. Guided by logic and reason, preferring to base decisions on evidence and facts rather than emotions. They communicate in a direct manner, getting straight to the point and avoiding unnecessary overstatement.

Tough. They will always be tough in any situation because their principle is, 'I need to keep it together, or everything else will crumble'. What a statement, but they actually reserved the mushy side for their beloved one.

Introvert and judgmental. They would rather be alone than interact with others. But don't be fooled by their quietness, as they will judge you, whether it's your walking, eating, or anything really.

Perfectionist. They have high standards and expect nothing less than excellence from themselves and their team. Their pursuit of perfection can lead to extreme concentration and a drive to achieve the best possible outcomes.

Job qualities: Resourceful, self-discipline, committed, strong sense of justice and fairness.

D Keller (The Reporter)

Gender: Male or Female

Height: 5'7"/170 cm (M) or 5'5"/165 cm (F)

Age: 26

Role: The reporter who's obsessed with the case.

Detailed personality description:

Playful and charming. This makes them likeable and engaging in social situations. Their wit and sense of humor often draw people in, even when discussing serious topics, especially when there's a murder to solve.

Inquisitive and adventurous. They possess a strong sense of curiosity and aren't afraid to pursue new leads or explore uncharted territories. They're always seeking answers and are willing to go to great lengths (which is quite dangerous for them) to uncover the truth.

Cunning. They have a knack for strategic thinking and finding unconventional solutions. Their cunning nature allows them to navigate complex situations and discover information that others might overlook.

Indecisive and unpredictable. Their inquisitiveness and adventurous spirit sometimes make them indecisive, as they weigh multiple options and potential outcomes. This indecisiveness can lead to unpredictability in their actions and decisions.

Evasive. They are evasive af, so please don't ask about their past, or you will make them annoyed.

Job qualities: Persistence, assertive, perceptive, realistic.

Unknown (The ???)

Gender: Male or Female

Height: Unknown

Age: Unknown

Role: Unknown

#interactive fiction #detective #WIP #crime #mystery #Demo #thepurpleroom #TPR

[best-underrated-anime]

Best Underrated Anime Group F Round 2: #F1 vs #F2

#F1: High school girls go to Antarctica

#F2: 90s maid girls with guns

Details and poll under the cut!

#F1: A Place Further than the Universe (Sora yori mo Tooi Basho)

Summary:

Filled with an overwhelming sense of wonder for the world around her, Mari Tamaki has always dreamt of what lies beyond the reaches of the universe. However, despite harboring such large aspirations on the inside, her fear of the unknown and anxiety over her own possible limitations have always held her back from chasing them. But now, in her second year of high school, Mari is more determined than ever to not let any more of her youth go to waste. Still, her fear continues to prevent her from taking that ambitious step forward—that is, until she has a chance encounter with a girl who has grand dreams of her own. Spurred by her mother's disappearance, Shirase Kobuchizawa has been working hard to fund her trip to Antarctica. Despite facing doubt and ridicule from virtually everyone, Shirase is determined to embark on this expedition to search for her mother in a place further than the universe itself. Inspired by Shirase's resolve, Mari jumps at the chance to join her. Soon, their efforts attract the attention of the bubbly Hinata Miyake, who is eager to stand out, and Yuzuki Shiraishi, a polite girl from a high class background. Together, they set sail toward the frozen south. Sora yori mo Tooi Basho follows the captivating journey of four spirited girls, all in search of something great.

Propaganda 1:

This show literally changed my life I’m not even kidding. It’s messages about living your life to the fullest and finding, creating, and maintaining important friendships in your life literally got me to pick myself up and actually start living my life. All of its main characters are all incredibly memorable, and they all bounce off of each other very well. It’s fun and cute as hell, but also a really powerful story about dealing with grief and moving on. The final three episodes of the show are an emotional gut-punch, but they leave you with a sense of bittersweet fulfillment and a drive to get out in the world and have your own adventure.

Propaganda 2:

Let’s start with the fact that this is Madhouse doing a (relatively) grounded coming of age story about high school girls - the show looks gorgeous, of course. The music’s solid as well. (I still regularly listen to the ending.) But what really shines is the writing and characterization.

The pacing on this is perfect. For a show that spends half its runtime getting to Antarctica, you never feel like the time should be allotted differently or that you’re missing out on hijinks. Episode 12 is a particular standout, with tension building up until it explodes, and then goes still for the true emotional climax of the show. The four main girls all feel like believable teens, and seeing their relationship develop over the course of the series and watching them come into their own is well-done. The way it handles Shirase and her emotions, and how this complicates her relationships with them all is a particular standout. This may not be eligible in that it’s one of those anime people who watch A LOT of anime will recommend highly—it was on Crunchyroll and IGN’s best anime of the 2010s lists and on several “best of” lists for 2018. But it never quite took off the way it truly deserves, so I’m submitting it. It’s getting an English dub soon, though, and I really hope that gives it a resurgence of popularity. The girls are alright.

(Admin: Propaganda has been edited slightly to remove spoilers)

Trigger Warnings: Death via freezing

#F2: Akiba Maid War (Akiba Meido Sensou)

Summary:

The innocent Nagomi Wahira has always admired the cute girls serving at maid cafes. Hoping to fulfill her dream of becoming one, she moves to Akihabara to work at the maid cafe Ton Tokoton.

Nagomi’s first day seems completely normal—until she has to run an “errand” at a rival maid cafe along with her fellow recruit, the mature Ranko Mannen. There, things quickly go south, and Nagomi soon gets her first taste of Akihabara’s violent maid wars. As she watches Ranko calmly battle her way through a horde of gun- and knife-wielding maids, Nagomi realizes that maid cafes are drastically unlike what she had envisioned.

While struggling to reconcile her expectations with the harsh reality she finds herself in, Nagomi searches for the enjoyment she once saw in the lives of maids.

Propaganda:

It was animated by P.A. Works! As far as I know, they also worked on Buddy Daddies, Angel Beats, Ya Boy Kongming, etc. Cygames also contributed to this anime!! The story is creative as well. Who would’ve thought of a cute maid mafia anime? Keep in mind, this is a P. A. Works ORIGINAL. They went SO crazy on this anime. There’s also 12 episodes, which means that you can binge it all on one day and still be satisfied :D The OP and ED are also catchy, creative and unskippable. Despite its dark themes, it can sometimes get a little more “lighthearted” and silly, even in the most violent scenes ;P

Trigger Warnings: Flashing Lights, Graphic Depictions of Cruelty/Violence/Gore.

Just like what I explained, it’s violent. A lot of guns. And a lot of blood. Yes, they kill fellow maids in like every episode ever lol. Also, since Akiba is known to have flashy street signs, like every city ever…. And the guns, of course…that’s why I put the Flashing Lights warning.

When reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

If you want to criticize one of the shows above to give the one you’re rooting for an advantage, then do so constructively. I do not tolerate groundless hate or slander on this blog. If I catch you doing such a thing in the notes, be it in the tags or reblogs, I will block you.

Know one of the shows above and not satisfied with how they’re presented in this tournament? Just fill up this form, where you can submit revisions for taglines, propaganda, trigger warnings, and/or video.

#anime #best underrated anime #polls #poll tournament #tournament #anime tournament #animation #group stage #group stage round 2 #tournament polls #group f #a place further than the universe #sora yori mo tooi basho #akiba maido sensou #akiba maid sensou #akiba maid war #Youtube

[chaosfaggot]

TOP 10 VIDEO GAMES CONTEMPORARY TO THE HARRY POTTER BOOKS FEATURING BETTER STORIES

Video Game Stories were never significantly lower quality than other media. The idea that they were is a myth based on years of other media having snobby communities around them puffing themselves up and massively overblowing their own cultural significance and general quality and simply favored what they already understood over what they didn't. If you can look me in the eyes and tell me that Stranger in a Strange is the better Land when compared to Kirby's Dream I will either call you a liar or someone with no taste. That or like ur a boomer and ur somebody who you dont love's Dad, or something. Anyway, no narrative delivery system has had quite such a long, pretentious and systemically supported history as Books, one of the Worst of which is known to be Harry Potter, a pre-crap stained roll of toilet paper constructed by a known Shit Elemental. Here are some games contemporary to the publishing of this series of rolls who's stories compare far more favorably. Now you might say, "Isn't it kinda bad faith to compare to cream of the crop of one medium to the bottom of the barrel of another?", to which I say,

10. Diddy Kong Racing

When an alien wizard pig conquers Timber Island it's up to Diddy Kong and friends to defeat him by beating him in a race, something even the island's missing previous champion, Drumstick, could not achieve. I remember getting up in the middle of the night and sneaking more of this game because I just couldn't wait to see what challenges Wizpig had in store for me on his home planet. Also this game taught me what Gay was. No I will not elaborate but yes I am being serious.

9. Portal

Come on you don't need Me to tell you how good the game with the funny mean robot lady is we all know it was great blah blah blah cake blah blah weighted companion cube blah blah neurotoxin blah blah blah moving on

8. Sonic Adventure 2

In this one Sonic and Shadow (that's his edgy boyfriend) go Super Saiyan and the music is like "HANGIN AWN THE EEDGE O' TAMORROOOOW!!" and I forget what exactly they do but it was probably cool.

7. Mega Man X4

This was the first one where you could be the cool GNC lookin' red robot with the lightsaber. The first story of all time to ask what we're fighting for, with acting performances that put the likes of Heston and Shatner to shame.

6. Banjo-Kazooie

O, Grunty. Oh, there she is. There she goes. Oh. There's Grunty. Isn't she just so lovely? Oh, Grunty. Absolutely beautiful. My dear Grunty. Beloved by all.

5. The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask

I was maybe gonna put the much more beloved Ocarina of Time on here for its themes about the crushing experience of time's passage and how everything you take for granted as a child crumbling to ruin eventually reveals to you what is and isn't actually eternal and meaningful in this world, but this one introduced Tingle so I'm going with it instead.

4. Kirby 64: The Crystal Shards

This was the first one where you could play as King Dedede the Great in certain sections, a significant moment for the character development of one of fiction's truly legendary figures. This story is also the thrilling conclusion to the Darkmatter saga, and drops plenty of lore elements that will be important in the future such as the ruins on Rock Star and Shiver Star. Kirby doesn't care about any of that, but gets to eat plenty of food, so it's all good.

3. Star Fox 64

Check your G-Diffuser System, Use Bombs Wisely, and most importantly, Never give up, trust your instincts. Also I ship Fox and Wolf. And Fox and Falco. What is Nintendo DOING. I don't claim to really be able to find the pulse of what kind of media people actually want and enjoy but I feel like Furries in Space is kind of a sure thing

2. F-Zero GX

"In this world, you've got to be strong. You've got to fight to keep your spirit alive. And you might feel like there's nothing left to go for if I fall, but it's the fight that keeps us ready and on guard. Even now, I can feel the power. When I think of him I see no fear, feel no pain…"

Kingdom Hearts

This list finally gets hard to articulate because what can I even say about such a masterpiece. I can say, personally, that it was the game I got a PS2 for, and I never had any regrets about that. It has it all. Riku is basically the epitome of edgy, easily-manipulated, emotionally immature lancers with extreme romantic tension with the hero and basically spends the whole story except the very beginning and very end in his edgy lancer solo arc and then in later installments goes off to do more edgy lancer solo stuff. I've said edgy lancer so many times he has achieved edgy lancer fever pitch. Riku. This game also features the vocal talents of Jim Cummings, which are always pleasing to the ear. Also Goofy is there! Well, I'm certain you're convinced by now. Fucking masterpiece.

#video games #flame broiled takes #storytelling #narrative #media #top 10 #diddy kong racing #portal #sonic adventure 2 #mega man x4 #banjo kazooie #majoras mask #kirby 64 #star fox 64 #f zero gx #kingdom hearts

[grcycosmcs]

*&*  –  was that [ jacob romero gibson ]  ?  oh no no , that was just [ usopp ] , a [ canon character ] from [ one piece ]. they are [ twenty three ] years old , use [ he / him ] ,  &  [ are ] aware that they are not actually from washington dc.

B A S I C S .

dc arrival : october 2022

current occupation : tbd

canon point : live action

pronouns : he/him

memory status : unaffected

I N F O R M A T I O N .

full name : usopp

nicknames : none

age : twenty three

birthday : april 1

homeplace : syrup village, gecko islands

previous location : the sea

native language : undisclosed

traits : passionate, fabricator, loyal, cowardly, outgoing

C A N O N  T I D B I T S .

in the future, more information about this original character can be found by clicking the page linked at the bottom.

he was born as an only child in syrup village, to a pirate who left when he was an infant & a mother who succumbed to an illness when he was still young.

he grew up telling fabricated tales of his so-called pirate adventures as a child, & he would falsely warn about the supposed arrival of pirates to the village, causing a lack of trust from his community.

after the defeat of a small but fierce pirate crew threatening the life of his friend, he hesitantly left for the sea with some new pirate friends to make some real adventures.

B I O G R A P H Y .

this includes canon information, as well as headcanons. this contains SPOILERS of the live action.

usopp was born an only child in syrup village, a small community in the gecko islands that was known for ship building. when he was still an infant, his pirate father left his family for a life at sea, so he was raised by only his mother. however, she fell ill while he was still quite young. to try to keep her spirits up, he began yelling out fabricated warnings to the village about approaching pirates, sure that his father would return to one day soon to make it true. his mother did eventually succumb to her illness though, leaving him orphaned & looking for work in a local shipyard. he obtained a job cleaning the ships & befriended the owners' daughter kaya, & he enjoyed telling her many elaborate tales of his fake life as a pirate. when her own parents died, he remained by her side & continued to visit her at her home despite her staff's protests.

when a young pirate in a straw hat named luffy came looking for a ship, usopp led him & his crew to kaya's house, since she would come to gain sole ownership for her 18th birthday that day. later in the day however, it was revealed that the staff were part of a pirate crew intent on killing kaya the moment she turned 18 so they could inherit the shipyard themselves. learning this, he attempted to get help from the villagers, but they didn't believe him due to his years of false warnings. kaya doesn't initially believe him either, but he stuck by her side & then attempted to help her escape, though his great slingshot skills proved useless against the man with great reflexes. thankfully, his new pirate friends are able to help them out. with kaya safe, she gifts the straw hats a boat & encouraged usopp to leave with them to live out real pirate adventures, so he hesitantly left with a goodbye kiss. they soon find themselves in trouble with a threatening crew, but after the straw hats handle the situation, he became determined to become a brave warrior of the sea & they set out for the grand line.

A D D I T I O N A L   N O T E S .

i have no intention of watching the anime at this point in time, so he's based mostly on the live action. i may pull bits of information from his wiki, like some traits & abilities that have yet to be explored, but his remembered life events are pure live action.

W I K I  P A G E

#usopp ✧ posts #usopp ✧ information #usopp ✧ intro #hw: intro #death mention tw #illness mention tw

[j-graysonlibrary]

The Xiang Chronicles: Book Four Chapter 40

Title: The Xiang Chronicles: Book Four

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 118k

Genres: Fantasy, adventure, drama, LGBT+

Available on: my website

Synopsis: In order to save the world from the continuous subjugation and potential annihilation at the hands of Tiandi, hard lines must be drawn. The Great Spirits that were imprisoned ages ago must be unsealed and awakened, no matter the consequences.

The players are divided—those who stand blindly with Tiandi, such as Xiang Merra and her disciples versus those who want to tear the system down and give the power back to the people. Even a few of the most religious Lords change their minds when they learn the truth of the world—that Tiandi is no more than a dictator with no love in his heart.

It is up to the last, real Xiang and the ill-fated Chaaya to put everything they have into tearing God from his throne and creating new possibilities for the future.

Full chapter 40 under the cut

Chapter IL:

Kira watched as Raine and Devi spoke with the King of Kyrie about his role tomorrow. They were among the last to leave and Kira suspected it was because King Raime wanted Raine to go back to Castelle with him. He was his favorite soldier, after all, and many of the others were lying in wait in their respective homes.

Devi had nothing to add to the matter, she simply glanced between the two Kyrie men, waiting for her signal to open a portal.

“There are some strategies we could fine tune,” the King insisted with a wide smile. He pushed his chest out, at least showing an assuring amount of bravado for the night before an important battle.

“That level of planning will not do us much good when we do not know how the enemy will react to us,” Raine countered, “Being over prepared for manufactured scenarios could end up harming us, not helping.”

“Then we could simply discuss matters about the post battle,” he continued, not dropping his smile, “What our country will do under our newly earned freedom—how we will interact with and live in peace by our neighbors.”

Raine returned his smile, briefly, but shook his head. “I…I have to stay here tonight. There are people I want to be with.”

His King’s eyes drifted to the side, as if pulled by some invisible force, and they landed on Kira. “Is it him, Raine?”

Raine’s gut twisted and he immediately feared the repercussions of affirming the King’s suspicion. But then he stopped worrying and looked at the matter pragmatically—his initial feelings were just a reaction, one taught to him through his entire life.

King Raime might have been devoted to Tiandi and his teachings at some point—quite recently in fact—but his presence here, in Shakti’s caves, and with a Great Spirit attached to him was proof enough of his evolved position. Not only that but Raine knew that his King was aware of Sampra and Ryu’s relationship yet kept them in the high court.

Even if none of that were true and Raine’s job and reputation were at stake, he made the decision that he cared not for the consequences. Pangu did not care and proudly announced who he was. Kira certainly did not care either.

So, why should he?

He had already told his family anyway. Telling anyone—telling everyone—could become easy with practice and he could start now, he figured.

Raine nodded and glanced to the side, where Kira was leaning against the wall, appearing bored. “Yes,” he answered finally, “Yes, it is him.”

His King clapped him on the shoulder with a quiet, “Have a good night, Raine,” and then left through the portal with Devi.

Sometime in the morning, Raine would be taken to him and his army but, for the time being, he wanted to milk every moment with Kira that he could.

“Was he trying to take you with him?” his partner asked as soon as he walked up to him.

Raine chuckled. “Yes.”

Kira smirked. “Thanks for picking me.”

“Always.”

The smile, as crooked and haphazard as it was, dropped from Kira’s lips. He still tried to grin but it was as if his face was fighting him for dominance. Eventually, he just settled into the more somber expression that his body wanted from him.

“You okay?” Raine asked, wondering if they should head back to their room already.

Kira nodded, barely, and wanted to reach out and hold onto him but knew that, if he did, he might end up crying. That was the last thing he wanted while they were still in front of everyone—whether they were being looked at or not.

“Do you…do you want to tell everyone?” Raine’s voice dropped to a whisper.

His meaning was clear and it brought a frustrating heat to his eyes. Kira shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “I…Pangu and I spoke about it the other day and we both think it is best, for morale, to save it for another time. After the battle.”

“I understand but…” When he trailed off, Raine gulped and forced himself to continue, “What if some of the rest of us do not make it back?”

That had been a point of discussion with Pangu as well as with Viren. Kira’s mind drifted back to that conversation but he could not allow himself to think about it, in full, at the moment. Not in front of Raine. “I know it is not fair,” he said, “but it is what was decided on.”

“So Pangu knows then?”

“Yes.”

“And that does not lower his morale?”

Kira sighed. “I think, like me, he has known for a long time.” It was true and was certainly something Pangu had told him but there were other reasons the Xiang was not about to be distracted by his fast approaching death. Reasons he could not share with Raine.

His partner frowned but then leaned down to rest his forehead against his. “A lot is going to change after tomorrow. I am nervous but, I want to see the future with you…just for a little while—while we can.”

“I do too,” Kira responded, being wholly honest. He met Raine in a kiss and held him in the embrace for as long as he could get away with.

He really did wish he could see the new world with him.

***

The Mistresses returned in the morning—firstly to say their goodbyes to Shakti, even if their mother could continue communicating with them through her mind, and secondly, to escort everyone to their positions. Parvati realized she had no one to take back with her since both Heidi and Kaz were moving out with the Ultimos group but then Ziyi volunteered to go.

He wanted to stay away from the direct action anyway so joining with Sunny’s army would give him the cover he needed.

But, before he left, he sat down with Browly and spoke in a muffled, quiet voice. Chandes joined him and though the necromancer braced for a kick, the Mistress did not deliver. She just squatted next to him and petted the dog on his head, offering a brief smile before standing back up and returning to her position with Kali.

Raine walked over to Devi after sharing a long kiss with Kira—neither really wanting to let go. His heart thundered in his chest and he continued to look back over, fighting with the urge to just run to Kira’s side and hold onto him.

Heidi hugged her brother before standing by Ashoka and Oli. She then watched the goodbye between Pangu and his partners, expecting it to be a prolonged, painful affair.

He kissed each of them, Baiya, Viren, and then Kaz and the four had their hands clasped together between them. “Fight hard,” Pangu told them, “Kira and I will do everything we can on our side.”

“And we will give you the time to do it,” Baiya responded.

“Plus, we are taking down those Princes,” Kaz added.

Viren met Pangu’s eyes and said, “Everything will turn out well. I love you, Pangu.”

A small chorus of “I love you”s were exchanged and Pangu gave each of them another kiss, those shorter, and then released their hands. His fingers held on, or tried to, as more and more distance was added between them and, eventually, the warmth of their skin left him. He pulled his hand back and curled his fingers into a fist, resetting his mind to focus on what was most important.

When the room cleared out, it was only Kira, Pangu, Shakti, and the dog. Browly, as opposed to seeking out affection from either Xiang or Chaaya, scampered over to Shakti and curled up beside her feet.

“So the time is finally here,” she spoke, not sounding enthused in the slightest.

“We will destroy Tiandi’s system,” Pangu promised, “And you will be free to return to your old life or to live as you please.”

“When this is all over, would you still want to be called Shakti or go back to being Am’ma?” Kira asked as his lips turned up, to one side.

Shakti hummed, the vibration of it filling the caverns, “I do not know…”

“Well, think on it. Pangu and I have one more thing to do before we head out.” Kira glanced back to Pangu and he nodded.

It was nothing exceptionally exciting but it was necessary. Pangu did the writing since his script was easier to read than Kira’s and he jotted down both of their points as accurately and concisely as possible. They read it over—a few times—and then left it on one of the taller, flatter stones.

Pangu looked at the pages and he reached to the back of his head, pulling out the clasp that kept his hair up. Everything fell loose, around his shoulders, but he set the hair clasp on the surface as well, beside the note. “I should have given this back to Heidi last night…”

“She would have been suspicious,” Kira countered before shuffling around in his robes for a second. He retrieved a small dagger and set it over the page as well.

And, with that, they were ready to go.

Kira brought them to Tian-Badou temple, in the main area where half of the roof stood but the other half of the room was bathed in light. Both he and Pangu shielded their eyes, adjusting to the brightness for a moment.

As they waited to get used to being outside again, Kira asked, “So, did you tell any of them? Aside from Viren, of course?”

Pangu frowned and looked down, still keeping a hand over his brow for shade. “No. I…I knew there was no possibility where I told Baiya and Kaz and they still performed at their best today.” He then glanced to Kira, able to make out his figure though it was blurry. “You told Raine though, didn’t you?”

“…Yes.” Kira sighed. “I could not keep it from him. I don’t know how you managed.”

It was not as if Pangu did not want to tell them. More than anything, he wished he could have shared his and Kira’s plans with his lovers and been held as if it were the last time it would be possible—to be loved as much as he could be within the allotted time.

“If I let myself be swayed by the feelings of just a few people, I might lose focus on the end goal which involves the world. I know it is not fair or even nice but…I cannot lose sight of what I have to do.” Pangu gulped and, for a second, his eyes felt hot. “I do wish I could take a moment and mourn the losses…I wish I could do a lot of things.”

Kira frowned and then grabbed his hand. “It isn’t fair, you are right, but it isn’t just unfair to them—it’s unfair to you.” He squeezed. “But, at least we are together, yeah? I wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else.”

Pangu nodded and a smile tried to make its way onto his face. “I wouldn’t either.”

He took them into the spirit realm, knowing they would find Badou on the other side. The back of his white robes greeted them and, though they made no sound upon their entrance, he still felt their presence and turned to look.

“Oh, it is you two again. …Just you two?”

“Yes,” Pangu answered and, finally, released Kira’s hand. “I have an important question, Badou.”

The almost-Prince nodded, giving him silent permission to continue.

“Are you sure—certain—you have no Tian aspect attached to you?”

“Pretty sure.” He chucked, breathless. “Why? Do you need one?”

“No, the opposite,” Kira answered.

When Badou gave them a confused look, Pangu clarified, “We are here to end Tiandi. If you want to help, feel free, we just need to be sure you were not hiding any left-overs.”

“Oh…” the old spirit blinked and recoiled slightly, “You are really going to try this, huh? I have never seen anyone even attempt it…but if you are serious, I would help if I could.”

“Well then,” Pangu sighed, releasing the last of his tension before leading the way out of the old temple and into the wilds of the spirit world.

Past the courtyard, there were open fields rather than the ocean that existed in the mortal realm. The lilac sky overhead was clear at first but, the second Pangu dropped the shield around himself and Kira, clouds began rushing forward, filling the sky with dark, ominous color. Lightning flashed in the swirling wall, threatening and hissing, and then the clouds parted to reveal the face that, still, haunted many of Pangu’s dreams.

#the xiang chronicles #my novel #my writing

[novelmonger]

Everyone is reading A Christmas Carol this time of year, but I decided to try out another of Charles Dickens' Christmas stories. The one I chose was The Chimes (which ended up being actually about New Year, not Christmas, but oh well). It was a good story--I plowed through it in one sitting--but I can definitely see why A Christmas Carol has remained popular and gotten a heck-ton of adaptations and references to this day, while The Chimes has not.

There are a lot of similarities between the two stories. Both are about an old man who is visited by spirits (in a dream?? vision??? out-of-body experience????) on the eve of a winter holiday, showing him a potential future of how dreadfully things could turn out if he doesn't alter his thinking, until he wakes up and finds out it hasn't happened yet and there's still hope, and the story ends with a giddily joyful celebration.

But The Chimes is just not quite as powerful or memorable as A Christmas Carol, for several reasons. First and foremost, I think, is the main character. Scrooge is one of the nastiest, most cold-hearted and miserly people you could possibly imagine, so it's really satisfying to watch him slowly changing over the course of the story. He's humbled, softened, and warmed throughout his adventure to become the joyful, generous man we see at the end. The difference is so striking, but so wonderful because it's like night and day. You can tell at a glance that he's a new man.

Trotty Veck, the main character of The Chimes, doesn't have quite the same effect. Don't get me wrong, he's a great character--Dickens excels at making interesting characters that leap off the page--but he doesn't seem to be in as dire need of changing as Scrooge. He's a poor man who works as a ticket-porter, doing odd jobs and running deliveries for people. Due to a run-in with some stuffy gentlemen and seeing horrible news in the papers, he loses faith in the working class, wondering if maybe they're just wicked by nature with no hope of improvement, as the upper class seems to think. That's what apparently prompts the spirits in the belltower to show him the bleak future of how he and all his loved ones could end up because they assumed there was no hope for them.

It actually took me a while to understand why the spirits were admonishing Trotty in the first place. His crime didn't seem worthy of the punishment. I mean, a common message running through all of Dickens' work is to be generous to the poor and treat them with dignity. That's seen powerfully in the character of Scrooge, who hoards his coin at first but then becomes generous in the end. Trotty, on the other hand, is one of the poor himself, and is clearly a victim of the kind of people Dickens is criticizing. Trotty even takes in a destitute uncle and niece who are also victims of the corrupt system, giving them a place to stay and using his day's earnings to give them food while he and his daughter go without. And yet, Trotty is the one who is admonished by the spirits, like he's the one to blame for losing hope when everything's against him.

And even when everything turns out all right in the end, and the horrible future he saw is averted because love wins out over despair...Trotty isn't really that different than he was to start with. We see him as a generally cheerful, loving, kind man in the beginning...and in the end, he's cheerful, loving, and kind. Instead of going through a radical transformation of character, he has a brief period of despondency and despair of his fellow man, but then gets over it really quick and is back to normal. It's just not as powerful.

Besides, it's hard to see why Trotty is the one who needs to change in order to prevent the awful future he sees in his vision. In A Christmas Carol, Scrooge is able to immediately do something once he wakes up and realizes he has a second chance. He can throw a Christmas party, help out Bob Cratchit's family, give money to the poor, etc. But when Trotty wakes up and finds out that the horrible future he's seen hasn't happened yet...it's actually not due to him at all. In the vision, it seemed like everything went wrong because the gentlemen convinced Trotty's daughter Meg from getting married to her sweetheart Richard, and that was going to lead them down the path to misery, Richard would succumb to alcoholism, the little girl Lilian would eventually have to resort to prostitution, and in the last extremity Meg would end up jumping in the river with her baby out of despair. But then Trotty wakes up and discovers none of that would have happened anyway. He learns that Meg and Richard had already decided not to listen to what those men said to them, and even though it dampened their spirits somewhat (as someone being rude to you naturally would), they were still planning to get married the next day anyway. So...Trotty changing his outlook on life doesn't actually affect anything that's actually happening. There's no sense that he was even trying to prevent Meg and Richard from getting married, so his loss of hope wouldn't have changed anything for them.

Now, don't get me wrong, I still enjoyed this story a lot, and will probably come back to it in New Years to come. Dickens' characters are all as fun as ever, the writing is excellent, and the joy at the happy ending is exquisite. He even got me to cry at one point, even with so much less time than normal to get to know and love these characters. Dickens, how do you do it?!

"So may the New Year be a happy one to you, happy to many more whose happiness depends on you! So may each year be happier than the last, and not the meanest of our brethren or sisterhood debarred their rightful share, in what our Great Creator formed them to enjoy."

#charles dickens #the chimes #a goblin story of some bells that rang an old year out and a new year in #(what a subtitle!) #and maybe it's just me but i found myself thinking of it's a wonderful life more and more towards the end #something about losing hope and going to jump off a bridge #only to be ushered suddenly into a party overflowing with joy and hope for the future

[astriiformes]

Know that I am coming at this from the perspective of both someone who tends to take a hard "the Doctor has historically been a highly ace/aro-spec coded character and I wish the show acknowledged that more" stance and of someone who has only seen a handful of 13's episodes, but on a meta level there is still nothing funnier to me than the fact that the show's response to the Doctor finally having a proper gay moment is to bring Ace McShane back literally the next episode.

#SPEAKING OF QUEER-CODED CHARACTERS #perfect move no notes #f: quite a great spirit of adventure

[whiskeynwriting]

Mine

Din Djarin x Female Reader

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Word count: 3.7k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) dirty talk, praise kink, breeding kink, slight degradation, Dom!Din, choking (once), vaginal fingering, anal fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving), vaginal sex, rough sex.

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 A/N: oof this got away from me LOL.

I wrote this a HOT minute ago, so I may cringe while reading back on it. Who knows, lmao. Also, this is just a one-shot. It’s not related to the Blurred Lines Series. 

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     You walk down through the bazaar and into the covert you’ve called home for years now, back from an exhausting hunt and hoping to be able to rest among your tribe. Although you did not take the Mandalorian creed, you are welcomed here with open arms. All because you had caught the eye of a Mandalorian. 

     Walking down the stairs, you continue on through the halls as you walk toward the main common space. Small children run by you, covered by their shrunken helmets. They giggle while grasping their necklaces, proud to have a symbol of the great Mythosaur with them always. This was something you admired, and you too had one of these necklaces, the only symbol you were allowed to bear to link you to your tribe. Looking at your own adornment, you’re reminded of the incredible sadness that fills you each night you are away from your husband. But you had wanted this. You insist, every now and then, to go off on a mission of your own. After all, you still had the Mando’a spirit, you were not simply a riduur to one. And now that you were done catching your bounty, you decided to come back to the covert and wait for him to return from his own adventure. 

     You sat down on one of the tables in the common area, setting your bag beside you and letting your hair down. At this particular covert, you were the only non-Mandalorian riduur. Because you were able to show your face and wear clothes that fit your body quite nicely, you often caught the eye of others. Before finding Din, you met Paz. He was the original reason that you were accepted into the covert. He was a heavy infantry warrior that stayed on the planet, particularly within the city. He was not a bounty hunter like your riduur. You had admired Paz’s internal need to stay close to his tribe and build a home here, a family here.

     Paz caught your attention with his large frame and intriguing combat style. He was incredibly tall, and the armor that adorned him displayed his large muscles nicely. Paz was attracted to the swiftness of your fighting skills, your incomparable beauty to any other in the parsec, and your flirtatious personality. He was loud, boisterous, and liked to show off. And damn, did it impress you when he did. Defending the covert, his home, his tribe, nothing turned you on more. The way Paz’s muscles flexed when he came, the way you’d grab his v-line with every thrust into your mouth, was more than desirable. But you wanted more, and you didn’t love him. He had asked you to become his riduur, and you declined. 

     Din came back to the covert after you had ended your relationship with Paz. He had been gone for years; bounty hunting was all he knew. When he did decide to come back to the covert, though, the energy between the two of you was undeniable. He was quiet, but when he did speak, it sent shivers down your spine. There was nothing more you wanted than to make him moan, to hear his beautiful voice speak more and more; forcing sounds out of him from pleasure, sounds that would be only for you. 

     After seeing you fight and watching you in the bazaar, Din had asked if you’d like to join him and the child on his ship. He claimed he could use the extra security and help when it came to the child and hunting bounties, and you were more than thrilled to accept. You didn’t feel comfortable staying at the covert anymore, anyways. Not with Paz there. 

     While deep in your thoughts, you don’t even notice Paz step over and sit down in front of you. You look up and see the man in the dark blue and silver armor directly in your line of sight. Though you can’t see his eyes, you can feel his stare. 

     “You know...” he starts, “I thought a riduurouk meant you’d join your mate for life. Seems to me like Djarin has better things to do, what with him being gone for so long.” 

     Your roll your eyes. You know Paz is just trying to get a rise out of you. When you were together, most of your sexual encounters began this way. He has no idea of the arrangement you’ve made with Din about occasionally hunting your own bounties, nor does he have the right to. Before you can respond, you hear a low, steady voice behind you. 

     “Five days doesn’t seem to be too long for her.” 

     You turn around to see your mate standing in the doorway to the common space. His Beskar armor shining, his fists tight, and his stance firm. A smile breaks across your face and he reaches a hand out to you. 

     “Riduur.” He beckons you over, and you leap up from the bench and into his arms. His grip on you is tight as you nuzzle into his neck, but you can tell his visor is fixed on Paz. You break the hug to look up at him, and then over to Paz as you hear him get up and walk over to you.

     “If I had made you my riduur, you’d never be left alone.” He grumbles, stepping closer toward you. He is inches away from your face, and you can’t help but let out a small breath. The way he towered over you had always made your heat ache. 

     “You don’t miss me, mesh’la?” He reaches up to grab your chin. It seems this was Din’s breaking point. He reaches over to grab Paz’s wrist, bending his entire arm backward. He throws Paz to the ground in one quick motion, with a grunt that makes you squeeze your thighs together. Though Paz was much bigger than Din, Din was stealthier, smarter, quicker. 

     “Touch her again and she’ll be the last woman you ever see."

     As you and your Mandalorian walk down the hallway, making your way out of the bazaar and back to the Crest, you can’t help but replay the incident in your mind. Din’s strength, his possessiveness, is something you always craved, and something you desperately missed when apart from him. The way he dominated you was better than any past lover. You can see his chest heaving, his fists still clenched as you walk beside him. 

     “Come here.” He says to you. He leads you down a corridor off to the left. Once in the dark hallway, he grabs your shoulder and shoves you against the wall. His hands explore your body as he pushes himself against you. You always loved when he manhandled you like this. Din knew how to be gentle and rough, and you absolutely loved it. 

     “Baby,” you gasp as he cups your tits, grinding his hips into yours. Your arms fly around his neck as you press your forehead to where his would be on his helmet. He slides his hands down your back, and grabs at your ass. 

     “You are mine.” He growls out harshly, and you nod your head in agreement. “Say it.” He spits out through gritted teeth. 

     “I’m yours, Din.” You say breathlessly. 

     “Mine.” He repeats. 

     His rugged breathing picks up and he slides his hand farther down your backside. He slips a hand under your panties and continues down toward your puckered hole. His other hand reaches around to the front of you, diving in and immediately shoving two fingers into your tight cunt, making you gasp. You lift a leg up to wrap around his waist, giving his fingers better access as you move with his hand. While he pumps his fingers into you, he begins tracing your tight ring of muscles with the other. Slowly, he inserts one finger. You whine as he wiggles it once it’s fully inside your ass, smirking at the feel of his talented digits. 

     “You like that, cyar’ika?” He asks, and all you can do is nod your head frantically as you grab onto his armor. “I’ve missed these tight holes.” He grunts out, steadily pumping his fingers into you. You cry out when his fingers curl to hit that delicious spot inside your pussy. 

     “Shhh mesh’la, we wouldn’t want anyone to hear you.” You bite your lip as he continues, “Unless you want the whole covert to hear me dominating you. Making you mine, my little slut.” He continues to grind against your thigh as his gloved fingers work themselves into you. 

     “Fuck, Din.” You throw your head back. You loved when he spoke to you like this. “I want more,” you say breathlessly, “I want you.” All at once, he rips his fingers out of you, making you whine in protest. He smacks your ass, making you jump as he growls, “Get your ass back to the ship.”

     Back on the ship, you see the foundling’s pram is closed, assuming this means he is sleeping. Even though it was two hours before his bedtime, you weren’t surprised. You knew Din wanted to have you anywhere he could, everywhere he could. You missed your little Grogu, but you’d spend time with him soon enough. 

     “Strip.” He orders sternly behind you, his rough command making you turn around to face him. Smirking, you slowly lift your top over your head, throwing it to the side. You lean down to slip your black pants down your legs, undoing your boots and taking them off as well in the process. Standing in your underwear, you saunter over to him. You place a hand on his cuirass as you whisper with a smirk, “I can’t wait to feel you to fill me up.” A groan escapes through his modulator and he grabs your thighs, lifting you up as he carries you towards his bunk. You squeal and wrap your hands around his neck, making him chuckle beneath you. 

     He throws you down onto your now shared cot, quickly tearing his Beskar off of his body. You sigh as he lifts his helmet. The face of your riduur was something you always saw as a beautiful masterpiece. Within seconds his teeth are on your thigh, ripping off your panties. He unhooks your bra and tosses it aside. Now fully exposed, you lift your legs so you can plant your feet on the bed, showing him your dripping pussy. He groans, a sound heard without the filter of his modulator. You feel his large hands roughly grab your ankles as he shoves your legs open farther. He crawls over you and hovers his lips above yours. You bring your hands up to his face and clash your lips together. He moans into the kiss and his tongue forces itself into your mouth. You suck on it, licking up the taste of him, making him moan in desire. He pulls away, biting your lip as he begins to make his way back down to your heat. Hovering just above your soaking wet cunt, he inhales deeply. 

     “Fuck cyar’ika. I missed this needy cunt. Your smell is incredible... and you taste even better.” 

     With the last words falling out of his mouth, he licks a long stripe up your folds, making you whine. He continues to lick you like a frozen treat until you’re wiggling underneath him. He laps at the wetness leaking from your folds, sighing deeply at your tangy taste, making you squirm beneath him. His arm comes up to wrap itself around your hips and lower stomach to keep you in place. He moves up to your clit and sucks harshly while dancing his tongue quickly over your throbbing nub. Two fingers come up to shove themselves into your wanting cunt, eagerly pumping into you. You cry out at the sensation, jerking your hips up as much as you can under his heavy arm. 

     “Din, fuck!” You cry out, throwing your hands onto his head to tug at his long, chocolate locks. He moans into your pussy, the sound and vibrations driving you over the edge. You cry out his name as your lover laps up your juices as they soak his face and drip onto the sheets below. His fingers ride you through your high, eventually pulling them back out. He brings his digits up to his mouth as his tongue licks and sucks your cum off his fingers, making you pant out an incredibly needy moan. 

     “Sit up, cyar’ika. Gonna fuck your throat.” He says gruffly. You immediately crawl over to him, eager to take his length in your mouth. He starts pumping his cock, and you open your mouth and stick your tongue out for him. 

     “Good girl,” you hear the grin in his voice as you stare at his length. You knew this is what he loved, seeing your open mouth, ready to swallow him. While you leaned forward on the cot, he stood at its edge and set his heavy cock on your tongue, groaning when you lapped up his dripping precum. 

     “Use me.” You beg, “Use me to make yourself cum.” He moans happily and grabs the back of your head. With one quick thrust, he shoves his cock into your mouth. You shove down the reaction your gag reflex brings and open your mouth for him as best you can. 

     “Take me,” he pants, “take all of me.” He thrusts into your mouth until he bottoms out inside your throat. 

     “That’s it pretty girl, my good girl.” He sighs happily. A strangled groan comes from his throat as your tongue moves underneath the weight of his thick cock. He holds your head there for a moment before he can’t seem to take it any longer. Your warrior quickly finds a devastating pace as he deeply fucks your throat. Each thrust brings loud, squelching sounds to bounce off the ship’s metal walls. The sound of you gagging on his cock was something he craved. 

     “Riduur,” he groans, “ner Riduur... mine to claim,” he continues grunting harshly. “Your throat is mine to fuck. Your sweet cunt... fuck... mine to bury myself into.”

You loved when he was this dominant over you. You can tell he’s close. His hips begin to stutter, and you take this opportunity to moan against his length, helping his climax along. With a few harsh thrusts, his hot cum shoots down your throat. The thick white ropes bringing a familiar musky taste to your tongue that you desperately missed. He thrusts lazily into your mouth as he rides out his high. You swallow all of him, his cock, his cum... you were his. His grip on your head and hair loosens as he leans back to he take his cock out of your mouth. You smirk and lick your lips. 

     “I missed your taste,” you tell him. He suddenly grabs your jaw, running his thumb over your bottom lip. 

     “You are perfect,” he growls, inches from your face. Your tongue comes out to lick his thumb, and a short breath escapes from his mouth. 

     “How do you want me?” You innocently ask. 

     He grabbed your wrists, pulling you forward off of the cot. Your feet fumble to the floor before being shoved down onto the ground, onto your knees. He leans you forward so you rest yourself on your elbows, sticking your ass high up into the air. You knew he loved to see it. His breathing picked up behind you as you did so. He takes a handful of your ass and squeezes it, then slaps it harshly. He chuckles darkly when a yelp escapes your lips. 

     “I can be gentle... or I can make you beg.” He states, rubbing his hands over your ass, spreading your cheeks widely. You hum in appreciation, the act of him spreading you open makes your pussy drip with desire. He sees your wetness drip down onto the cold, metal floor of his ship. 

     “Cyar’ika...” he moans. A hand leaves your ass as he reaches down to gather some of the wetness between your folds. You hear him eagerly suck on his fingers before saying, “I think you need to beg me for it.” 

     “Please,” you immediately plead. “Please Din. Make me yours, claim me, riduur. Please. I need your cock.” He hums, satisfied with your pleas. He takes his thick length and lines it at your entrance. Slowly, he slides himself forward so that your pussy engulfs his tip. 

     “Please,” you whisper. With that, he shoves himself into you, pushing you forward with his weight. His cock splits you open deliciously, a feeling that never grows old. He continues to spread your ass cheeks apart as he begins to slowly pump himself into you. 

     “Look at you, your tight, needy holes. Begging to be filled. What about this one mesh’la?” He asks as he presses a finger on your tight ring of muscles. “Does this one need to be filled, too?” He questions, amusement in his voice. You whimper and nod your head, eager to have him fill you in every way he can. 

     “I said beg.” He demands, his stern voice making you gasp. When you can’t catch your breath quick enough to respond, he shoves a quick, forceful thrust deep inside you with a loud grunt, shoving you forward once more. 

     “Din! Finger me, finger my asshole. Please, please... I need to feel more of you.” You plead with him.

    He loves when you beg, and always gives in when you do so properly. Dominating you like this makes his cock twitch inside your tight cunt. He slips a finger into you, all the way to his last knuckle, making a satisfied sigh come from your mouth. He wiggles his finger in a circle as he pumps his finger in and out of you. As his finger picks up it’s pace, so do his hips. Eventually, he removes his finger, making you whine. 

     “Tell me what you want, what you need.” His demand clearly telling you he needed to hear this nickname again. 

     “Din,” you gasp, “finger me.”

    With that, he shoves his thumb inside your ass as his hips continue with a devastatingly deep pace. His other hand grips your hip as he drives into you. 

     “Good girl.” He praises you, making another wave of pleasure wash over you. You loved being his good girl. 

     “Din! Yes, yes. Don’t stop!” You cry out. You start to bounce your ass back against him, making him growl at your promiscuous act. 

     “Love your sweet cunt,” he grunts out, “your ass is so tight. I might have to start fucking this hole, too.” You cry out, his words  pushing you closer to your release. “I want to feel your wet cunt cum on my cock.” He claims as he shifts his hips. Driving back into you, he immediately finds your g-spot. You grasp for anything you can to try to steady yourself as your climax comes closer and closer. You claw at the steel floor as he relentlessly fucks into you, continuously moving his thumb inside your ass. 

     “Cum.” He demands in a low growl, pushing you over the edge. You wail as waves of pleasure rush over you as his hips continue to pump into you at a devastating pace. 

      “That’s it,” he coos, “That’s it pretty girl, cum on my cock.”

      He doesn’t stop as you come down from your high, panting breathlessly as he claims what is his. He rips his thumb from your ass to grip onto your hip as he begins to reach his own high. 

     “Fuck.” He pants out, gripping your hips with a tightness that is sure to leave bruises. You continue to bounce your ass against his cock. 

     “Baby,” you whine, “fill me up. I want to feel your hot cum inside me.”

     “Yeah? You want to be bred, sweet girl?” 

     “Yes!”

     “Bred by your riduur, your warrior. Carrying my child.” He continues to grunt, his hips stuttering as he speaks. He leans down the grab the nape of your neck, pulling you up to him, pressing his chest to your back. You gasp and your hands fly to his arm. 

     “Tell me you’re mine.” He demands. “Say it.” 

     “I am yours, my riduur.” You smirk. A strangled cry comes from his throat as he pumps his hot seed into you, flooding your womb. You moan out at the sensation as he holds your body close to his. You love feeling his hot breath against your neck as he rides out his high, grinding his hips into you. He nuzzles his nose into your cheek, and you turn your head to kiss him deeply. 

     He finally stills, resting back on his heels as he guides you to lean further against him. His hands slide along your body to gently cup your breasts as your tongues continue to dance in each other’s mouths. Breaking the kiss, you both catch your breath. He lifts you up, making his softening cock slide out of you. He sets you on the ground and stands, only to lean down and pick you back up. He places you on his cot and wraps his cape around your shoulders. Your heart flutters at the sentiment as you stare up at him. He puts on his clothes, aside from his Beskar, as he leans down to kiss you. Cupping your jaw gently, he tells you, “I love you. I missed you so much.” You grab his shoulders and lean back into the bunk, inviting him to slide on top of you. You wrap your legs around his waist and put your hands against his cheeks. 

     “I love you so much, Din. I always miss you when we’re apart.” He smiles softly at your words and leans down to give you a soft kiss. 

     “Do you truly worry about me entertaining others? I am always yours, whether we are together or apart. Our vows state this, my love.” You reassure him. He leans his forehead against yours. 

     “I know, cyar’ika.” He sighs out, grinning devilishly before you. “I just love to claim you.” 

Thank you for reading <3

If you liked this fic, check out my Blurred Lines Series (;

General Taglist: @anaaaispunk @dihra-vesa @sweetangel0069 @coaaster @pepascalhoe @evyiione​

#oh lord #love me some daddylorian #i will literally do whatever you want #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian fanfiction #mando #mando x you #mando x reader #mando x female reader #mando smut #mando imagine #mando fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin smut #din djarin imagine #din djarin fanfiction #star wars #star wars smut #star wars fanfiction

[angelicyoongie]

Christmas in abundance

— pairing: hybrid bts x human f!reader — genre: fluff! — word count: 4.5K — summary: If the boys wanted to play Secret Santa, who were you to deny them? Though maybe, just maybe, you should’ve thought twice before adding a penalty to the mix. — a/n: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!! I hope you’ve all had a good and safe time. This Abundance christmas special does not have anything to do with the original story, so nothing that happens here will affect it. This is a little rough, ngl, but that’s what I get for not writing for a month lol. Either way, I hope you enjoy it!! 

"I'm home!" You shake off the lingering cold with a shiver, the warmth in the house wrapping around you pleasantly as you shrug off your coat. You barely have time to slip out of your boots before a body crashes into yours, a pair of strong arms pulling your body flush against a firm chest.

"You're late," Hoseok whines. The dog hybrid tucks his face into your neck with a huff, nose skimming against your throat as he works to cover the myriad of scents on your skin with his own.

"Sorry, I got held up a work," You sigh. "The office wants to do Secret Santa this year, so we had to figure out who would gift who.”

“Secret Santa?” A puzzled expression crosses Hoseok’s face as he pulls back.

“Oh, it’s a pretty simple game many people like to play during the holidays! You draw a random name, buy that person a gift, and then try your best to keep it a secret that it’s you,” You say, a smile tugging at your lips at how adorably confused the dog hybrid looks. The golden tail behind his back halts its quick movement; Hoseok’s head tilting slightly as he takes in your explanation. His eyebrows furrow as he thinks, an emotion you can’t quite place flickering in his eyes before he suddenly breaks out into a big grin, “Can we do it too? It sounds like fun!”

“Of course!” You say. “Just ask the others if they want to do it to? It won’t be much of a game if it’s just us two.” You reach up to gently ruffle his hair, the dog hybrid nearly falling over himself as he tries to lean into your touch.

“I need to go freshen up, I’ll see you guys for dinner?” You let out a soft laugh as Hoseok nods into your palm, a pout forming on his lips as you pull away.

“I’ll go ask them,” He gives you a bright smile before you turn to hurry up the stairs, more than ready to get into some comfortable clothes. Hoseok watches you leave, his smile falling into a frown as you round the corner.

He quickly walks down the hallway, mouth set in firm line as he turns into the kitchen and says, “We have to be secretive Santa’s.” The room grows quiet as six pairs of eyes find Hoseok’s form in the doorway, their stares a mixture of apprehension and bewilderment at the sudden declaration from the dog hybrid.

“What?” Namjoon sputters.

“Are you okay, hyung?” Taehyung rushes forward to place his hand against Hoseok’s cheek, his fox ears pinned to his head in worry.

“Did you hit your head?” Yoongi leans against the counter with a faint smirk, his dark tail swishing playfully behind his back as Namjoon shoots him a sour look. Hoseok only gives Yoongi a huff in response before he gently removes Taehyung’s hands from his face, pressing a soft peck against his palm at the worried expression on his packmate’s face.

“I’m fine Tae,” Hoseok assures him. “Y/n told me about a game humans play during the holidays. They draw a random person and have to gift them something, and since she’s playing it with her co-workers, we obviously have to play it too. We have to give her the best gift.” Looks of understanding flashes across the other hybrids’ faces, and Namjoon lets out a hum of approval at his packmate’s quick thinking. They can’t have their courting be upstaged by a human.

“But it has to be a secret,” Hoseok’s words are met by a displeased hiss, Jimin narrowing his eyes at the dog hybrid. Yoongi places his hand at the back of Jimin's neck, giving him a comforting squeeze as he says, “Well, it doesn’t really matter who gives her the present, right? As long as whatever we give is better than what the human gives her.” Jimin looks like he wants to protest, but a quirk of Yoongi’s brow in his direction settles him quickly, the younger cat hybrid leaning against his alpha with a defeated pout.

“What about the rest of the presents?” Jeongguk’s soft voice takes them all by surprise, the bunny hybrid hardly ever speaking up when they’re all together in one room. Jeongguk keeps his eyes trained on Hoseok, trying his best to ignore how his body grows more and more tense for each second as the attention shifts to him.

“Uh, I guess the rest will just gift each other something?” Hoseok clears his throat, heat creeping up the back of his neck as he finds himself pinned under the bunny hybrid’s big questioning eyes.

“Boring,” Jimin mutters. As Yoongi’s gaze narrows at his packmate, Seokjin hurriedly adds, ”If it’ll make Y/n happy, then I’m in.”

“Me too,” Jeongguk murmurs.

“Me three!” Taehyung grins.

“Sure, we’re in too,” Yoongi waves them off, his hand still tight on the younger cat hybrid’s neck.

“Fine,” Jimin sighs. Namjoon rolls his eyes with a faint smile as Jimin’s tail betrays his indifference, the younger cat hybrid obviously excited at the prospect of receiving a gift judging by the excited flick the end of his tabby tail does. “So we’re all in then,” Namjoon says.

“Great!” Hoseok beams, “I’ll go tell Y/n.”  

❅ 

You grab another box, wobbling slightly as you take your first step down the ladder. You can’t believe it’s almost Christmas already. The last weeks have passed by in a blur of important court cases, and aside from greeting the boys when you leave and come back home from work; you haven’t had any spare time to spend with them. You feel bad. Not only because you miss them, and you know they miss your company too, but also because this is your first Christmas together, and you had wanted to make December as magical as possible. But, thanks to all the late nights you pulled at the office earlier in the year, you’ve earned yourself some extra days off. So, while you might not have been able to make all of December an adventure for them, you’re going to try your hardest to make the next three days leading up to Christmas Eve as fun as possible.

“Hey Namjoon, can you help me with this?” You call out over the boxes stacked in your arms, gritting your teeth as you try to make it down the attic ladder in one piece. Maybe you only should’ve done one at the time, but where’s the fun in that? There’s nothing quite like the idea of falling and breaking a bone to really get the Christmas spirit pumping through your veins.

You let out a sigh of relief as heavy box on top is removed, but the sight that greets you over the cardboard wasn’t one you were ready for. The wolf hybrid has a sweet smile on his face, dimples on full display as he easily hefts the box under his arm. It’s just so domestic that it makes your heart skip a traitorous beat; almost making you miss the last step as you stumble down into the hallway.

“You okay?” Namjoon takes a step closer as he looks you up and down, his free hand reaching for your arm in case you feel unsteady on your feet.

“I’m fine!” You wince inwardly at the high pitch of your voice, plastering on a strained smile as you try to get a better grip at the decorations in your arms. 

“Just, you know .. excited for Christmas!” You barrel past him before he can see the flush creeping up your neck. As you hurry down the stairs, you can’t help but mentally curse yourself for how just seeing Namjoon holding a box and looking cute manages to short-circuit your brain. How the hell are you supposed to survive seeing the rest of the boys decorating the whole house?

❅

“Yoongi, that’s not ..” You bite back a laugh as the cat hybrid ignores you, practically folding himself in half to make sure he fits inside the empty cardboard box. You watch as Yoongi gets up and sits back down, folding his limbs this way and that way until he’s happy with his position.

“What?” He glares in your direction when he notices your amused stare, his tail puffing up defensively as you shake your head.

“Nothing. It’s cute,” You giggle. You turn before you can see the faint flush in Yoongi’s cheeks, the cat hybrid sinking down lower in the box to hide how pleased he is at your comment. You open another box, pulling out the rather tiny assortment of tinsel and garlands you’ve saved over the last years. It might have taken up a lot of room in your old apartment, but you doubt it’ll be enough to decorate past the first floor in this house. You do have time to run to the store and get some more, but even just imagining the crowds doing all their last minute shopping makes you want to shudder. It’ll just have to do this year.

“Hyung, I need those,” You hear a soft grumble from the couch as Jeongguk pushes Seokjin away from the nearly empty popcorn bowl, the hamster hybrid making a discontent noise as it’s moved away from him. The popcorn and cranberry string is looking a little short considering how much you gave them earlier, but you quickly realize the problem when Seokjin turns in your direction. He’s storing his snacks.

The hamster hybrid’s cheeks are so puffed out you’re honestly surprised he can even close his mouth. You stifle your laughter as you turn your attention back to the tinsel, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable. It’s honestly adorable, but you know the boys can get embarrassed over instincts they can’t control, so if it’s something as harmless as eating popcorn and taking up residence in a box, you’re more than happy to pretend you haven’t seen anything.

“Hobi, can you help me with this?” You call over the dog hybrid, gesturing to the tinsel. You’re sure it’ll go much faster putting it all on the tree if you’re two people doing it.

“Sure!” Hoseok grins.

“If you go stand on the other side of the tree, we can just pass it back and fourth,” The dog hybrid easily follows your instructions, and you’ve already gotten the tinsel wrapped around the tree a few times before it abruptly stops. You frown, giving it a few tugs in case it got caught on the wrong branch, but it’s not moving. You peak around the tree, confused as to why it’s stuck when you have so much length left, but the reason becomes apparent when you find Hoseok’s hand tightly wrapped around the glittery garland.

“Hobi?” You give it a small tug, and the dog hybrid only smiles sheepishly in response as he immediately tugs back.

“Sorry,” Hoseok whines as he pulls his hand back again, the golden ears on top of his head drooping. “I didn’t let go of the tinsel before you pulled and ..” Ah. You let the garland go slack in your hands, and the dog hybrid only stares at the glitter for a few seconds before his grip loosens as well. His instincts thought you were playing tug of war. “Sorry,” He repeats.

“Hobi, it’s fine! I really don’t mind. Maybe we can play some actual tug of war later if you want to shift?” You offer.

“Really?” You can see the uncertainty still lingering in Hoseok’s eyes, but the tail behind his back can’t help but do a few excited wags.

“Of course. We can go outside the moment we finish decorating,” You grin. Hoseok’s face lights up, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he gently nudges you out of the way, taking the tinsel out of your hands. You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone decorate a tree that fast, the dog hybrid practically vibrating with excitement as he shoves a container of ornaments into Jimin and Taehyung’s hands.

“Hurry, hurry,” Hoseok mutters as he throws a look at Namjoon, confirming that the alpha is stringing lights above the window like he's supposed to.

“Right,” You smile, grabbing the closest ornaments to hang them on the tree. You let your eyes drift around the room as you place the first ornament, your chest almost feeling like it’s going to burst with fondness as you see all the hybrids look so focused on their different tasks. It’s moments like this where it’s easy to forget all the arguments and nasty behaviours that have transpired between the packs. You’re not gullible enough to believe that it’ll just be smooth sailing from here on out, but can you always hope. That’s what Christmas is for, after all.  

❅

“Okay! Is everyone ready?” You say, taking your place on the floor in front of the pile of Secret Santa gifts. You honestly feel like you’re going to roll away on the floor if you happen to topple over, your belly full and sated with all the delicious Christmas foods you’ve eaten over the last hours. Jeongguk and Jimin are the first ones to reach your side, each taking up the space next to you as the others settle down in a circle. You’ve been collecting gifts from all over the house, trying your best to keep the whole game as anonymous as possible. You’re about to reach out for the first gift when you remember something you used to do with friends when you were younger, something that make the game a little more exciting.

“Boys, how do you feel about adding a punishment to the game?” Jimin and Hoseok both sit up a little straighter at your words, all the hybrids snapping to attention. The three alphas all share a look, a weird glint in them you haven’t seen before.

“Punishment?” Jeongguk stiffens as the air in the room grows heavier. Maybe that was a poor choice of words.

“Oh no, I meant like a .. penalty? Like if the receiver can figure out who their gift is from, then the giver has to do a penalty?” You say, placing a comforting hand on the bunny hybrid’s knee.

“A penalty is fine,” Jeongguk says, beginning to relax under your touch, “but what would it be?”

“How about the receiver decide the punishment?” Taehyung offers, a lazy smirk on his face as he leans back on his hands, “Wouldn’t that be fair?” You know the fox hybrid always tries to win by whatever means necessary, and that it usually spells trouble for you, but it’s Christmas Eve, so if there was ever a day to indulge Taehyung, this would be it.

“Sure. I don’t mind if the others are okay with it,” You shrug. There’s immediately a small chorus of agreement, and you take that as the go to give out the first present.

“First one is .. Seokjin!” The hamster hybrid takes the present from your hands cautiously, the room falling silent as he unwraps it. Hoseok snorts as he sees the item, the furrow between Seokjin’s eyes disappearing as soon as it shows up.

“Shampoo,” He announces.

“Well?” You prompt when the hamster hybrid places the item behind his back and out of sight, “Who do you think it’s from?” You swear you see the quick flicker of Seokjin’s gaze to Jimin, but it happens so fast you can’t be sure. The cat hybrid still has an easy smile on his face, and there’s nothing in his face that gives him away if he was the one behind Seokjin’s gift.

“I have no idea,” Seokjin shakes his head. “Let’s move on to the next one?”

“Sure,” You try to shake off weird feeling in your gut as you pick up the next gift. There’s no reason for them to pretend they don’t know who gifted them their presents, you must still be stressed after the intense week of work you had before your days off.

“Let’s see .. Namjoon!” The wolf hybrid gives you a bright smile as he takes his present, the grin never leaving his face as he rips through the paper. You notice the bunny hybrid stiffening next to you as Namjoon sees his present, his gray ears twitching slightly.

“A comb,” Namjoon waves it in the air quickly, the motion almost a blur as you only pick up the dark colour before he places it between his crossed legs. The wolf hybrid’s gaze scans quickly around the group before he shrugs, “No clue who it’s from though.”

Jeongguk lets out a small breath of air next to you, and when you think about it, didn’t that blur look similar to the comb the bunny hybrid uses for his ears? Before you can open your mouth to ask, Jimin hands you the next present with a sweet smile. Normally, that would put your worries at ease, but the lazy swishes of the tabby hybrid’s tail just makes you more suspicious. They’re definitely up to something.

The feeling only grows as you work through the presents. The boys casually hide their gifts before you can get a good look at them, and they somehow never know who the giver is, despite it being glaringly obvious whom it’s from with how the other hybrid perks up when their gift is unwrapped. You can’t figure out who gifted you the customized ink pen either, although Namjoon looked particularly proud when you couldn’t wipe the shocked smile off your face.

“This is just what I wanted!” You say. You think you might have mentioned it in passing a while back, but you never expected someone to actually remember it.

“Is it a better Secret Santa gift than the one you got at work?” Hoseok asks. The dog hybrid looks a little anxious, his canines digging into the soft flesh of his lips as his gaze shifts between your face and the gift in your hands.

“Of course it is! Soo-hyun got me an ugly Christmas mug she knew I would hate,” You snort, “There’s no way it could beat this!” You look down at the pen again, just missing the shared expression of relief that crosses the boys’ faces as you admire the sleek black and silver design.

“Anyway, let’s move on to the next gift!” You say. “It’s for .. Yoongi!” You hand the second to last gift to the cat hybrid, Yoongi’s sharp nails slicing through the paper with no trouble.

“A book, wonderful,” He smirks before he places it behind his back. You frown as you see the cover that is all too familiar, is that the book your aunt gifted you those years ago? The heavy atmosphere is back in the room as eight pairs of eyes shift to the last present on the floor. You swallow thickly, trying your best to school your features into something neutral. It’s your gift. And there’s no way you’re going to let him figure out it’s you, not when you were the one to come up with the penalty in the first place.

“Me!” Taehyung exclaims with a boxy grin as he picks up the last gift, his slender fingers carefully opening the paper. The fox hybrid lets out a delighted gasp as he uncovers the console games, his tail swishing wildly behind his back in excitement.

“Thank you Y/n!” Taehyung’s eyes sparkle as he meets your gaze, and the “You’re welcome!” tumbles out before you can stop it. You wince as something mischievous settles in Taehyung’s handsome features, the fox hybrid looking pleased with himself that you managed to slip up.

“How did you know it was me?” You groan.

“You have a tell,” Taehyung says.

You have? .. Crap. “What is it?”

“It’s a secret,” The fox hybrid smirks. Secret Santa was definitely not a hybrid game – the boys had come to realize that as soon as the first gift was handed out. The presents reek of the giver, but of course, that’s not something your human nose would be able to pick up.

“Fine,” You pout, tracing your finger over the pen in your lap, “What’s my penalty?”

The fox hybrid’s face grows serious as his gaze shifts around the room, searching for something to use as your punishment. You can’t help the way your stomach flips with nerves – or is it maybe excitement? – as you wait for him to figure it out. If it’s one thing you’ve come to learn, it’s that these boys are never predictable. Taehyung’s orange ears perk up as his eyes suddenly catch on an item, and Yoongi lets out a low hiss as he follows the fox hybrid’s line of sight. You barely have time to blink before Taehyung springs to his feet to grab your hand, dragging you along with him over to the living room entrance. You suck in a surprised breath as you find yourself standing directly underneath the mistletoe, Taehyung’s hand warm around yours as he gently pulls you a step closer.

“Only if you want to,” He says. Taehyung’s low murmur soothes the nerves prickling under your skin, the obvious fondness on his face easing your fears. The problem isn’t that you don’t want to, it’s that you do. And not just with Taehyung, but with all seven of them.

“It’s okay,” You hesitantly place your hand on Taehyung’s shoulder, the fox hybrid’s muscles jumping under your touch. You spare a glance back the rest of the boys when you notice just how silent the room has become, a flush creeping up your cheeks as you find all six of them staring at the both of you with an intensity you haven’t seen before. You quickly turn your attention back to Taehyung, the fox hybrid’s eyes fluttering shut as you begin to rise up at the tip of your toes.

You ground yourself in Taehyung’s firm grip around your hand, the fox hybrid’s warm breath spilling across your mouth as you lean in closer. Your aim is a little off, the lush dark lashes across Taehyung’s cheekbones distracting you enough that the kiss that was meant for his cheek, ends up at the corner of his mouth instead. When you pull back, you find Taehyung’s wide sparkling eyes already trained on your face, the fox hybrid gazing at your reverently for a few seconds before he dives down to bury his face in your neck.

“This is the best Christmas ever,” You let out a choked giggle at Taehyung’s words, stroking his back affectionately as he tries his best to rub your shared scent back on your skin.

“Me next,” You nearly jump out of your skin as you find Hoseok standing next to you, the rest of the boys lined up behind him with sheepish smiles.

“I thought this was supposed to be a penalty?” You quirk a brow, gently untangling yourself from Taehyung as the dog hybrid begins to move impatiently in place.

“Kissing Taehyung is just nice, it’s not a penalty unless you do it to all of us,” Hoseok whines. You catch Jeongguk nodding his head behind Yoongi’s shoulders, his long ears flopping from the force. Well, you think, what’s the harm?

“Fine,” You usher Taehyung over to the couch, turning back around to face Hoseok. “One mistletoe kiss coming right up.” The dog hybrid practically vibrates out of his skin when your lips touch his cheek, and he doesn’t waste any time mixing his scent like Taehyung had once you pull back.

You can see Namjoon’s silver tail wag behind his back as you place both hands on his shoulders, needing a little extra boost to reach his cheek. A dimple blooms where you delivered a soft peck, and Namjoon briefly touches his cheek against the top of your head before he joins his pack on the couch.

Jimin steps up next, placing his hands behind his back as he offers his cheek with a playful grin. “One penalty please,” He says.

“Of course,” You place your hand on Jimin’s jaw, holding him in place as you kiss his cheek. You catch the slight disappointment in the cat hybrid’s eyes as you pull back, but the gentle touch of your fingertips tracing his jaw is enough to wash it away. Taehyung might be the fox, but Jimin is by far the slyest when it comes to getting what he wants.

“Not yet,” You murmur, taking a step back. Jimin nods, his eyes filled with warm understanding as gently rubs his cheek against your shoulder before he lets Yoongi take his place. The alpha regards you with hooded eyes as you peck his cheek, a faint purr spilling from his chest as he rubs your mixed scent against the opposite shoulder. The soft fur on his ears tickle your throat, and the cat hybrid offers you a low thank you before he steps away.

“You okay?” Jeongguk’s cheeks are bright red as he takes Yoongi's place, but the bunny hybrid hurriedly nods in response. You can almost feel the jittery energy coursing through his body as you step closer, Jeongguk inhaling sharply as your lips make contact with his skin. The bunny hybrid shyly takes your hand in his, bringing it up to rub your wrist against his freshly kissed cheek. Jeongguk hurries off before you can say anything, his tail twitching rapidly behind his back as he joins the rest.

Seokjin has a fond look in his eyes as he steps closer. The hamster hybrid leans down slightly, just enough that his mouth graces you ear as he murmurs, ”You took your punishment well.” You feel plush lips against your cheek before Seokjin pulls back, a knowing smile spreading across his face as your fingers trace the spot he kissed. You stand there a little stunned as Seokjin joins Jeongguk on one of the couches, praying that the hamster hybrid didn’t notice the shiver that bolted down your spine at his words.

You awkwardly clear your throat as you realize they’re all waiting for you to join them, gesturing over to the TV as you say, “Do you want to watch a Christmas movie?” 

You let the boys argue over which movie to watch, quickly putting on your old copy of Home Alone once they’ve decided. You squeeze into the spot between Yoongi and Namjoon on the couch, the two alphas shifting closer the moment you’re settled; their sides flush with yours as you press play on the movie.

As the minutes begin to trickle by, you catch yourself watching the boys more than the colourful screen, a pleasant and comforting warmth spreading through your body as they laugh and giggle at the funny moments. Truthfully, the seven hybrids fill a space you hadn’t even realized was empty. And now – sitting here in your cozy living room with lights twinkling all around, you don’t think there’s anything else you could ever want.

You already have it all right here.

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