#i don’t think the anatomy is correct in the slightest but whatever

[procrastinateland]

i am not immune to sonadow propaganda

#rachel’s art #sonic the hedgehog #sonic #shadow the hedgehog #sonadow #art #artists on tumblr #traditional art #sketch #this is not a very good sketch but i wanted to be included so i’m posting it anyways #sonic prime #i don’t think the anatomy is correct in the slightest but whatever #i love these silly little gays

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

Lessons in Anatomy and Affection (Hunter x reader)

Summary: You decide to put Hunter's anatomy knowledge to the test.

Warnings: 18+ minors begone, here be smut; f!reader, unprotected PiV, creampie, switch!Hunter and switch!reader, teasing, lots of teasing

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Hi guys! I'm alive! I meant to post this months ago, but I've been busy, so with the new TBB season finally airing, I figured this would work now. Enjoy, ya heathens. (If you've sent me an ask, I've seen it! My inspiration has been very low lately, but it's on my radar <3). Originally a gift for @vimse

Hunter exhales a shuddering breath as you blow a stream of cold air over the stripe you’d just licked up his neck. His hands rest lightly on your waist, his touch warm and comforting, and you delight in the way that his fingers dig into your side just the slightest. Throat bobbing with an audible gulp, Hunter turns his head to find your gaze. His eyes are half-lidded and blown with lust already, and they gleam in the soft, warm glow of the fairy lights of your bedroom. His dark curls splay around his head in a halo. 

“Cyare,” he rumbles. 

You shush him gently, pressing your lips to his. Under your wandering hands, the expanses of his bare, toned body flex and ripple, goosebumps trailing in your wake. Mouths moving together at a slow, unhurried pace, you can’t help the soft moan that escapes you when you curl your hand around his stiff length. 

“Kriff,” he breathes. “N-Need to touch you, cyare, please.” 

“I know, Hunter,” you murmur. Trailing kisses down the opposite side of his neck, you lavish extra attention to the sensitive spots you know drive him crazy. When you’re rewarded with a shaky sigh, his head tilting away from you to grant you better access, you smile against his skin. “But you have to wait. Think you can do that for me?” 

After a moment, his hands fall away from your sides. Pulling back, you study his features. His teeth worry his bottom lip, but his eyes find yours again, steady and dark and desperate. In the twinkling fairy lights, Hunter’s skull tattoo shifts and dances; though you know its base function is camouflage, to you, it’s always been beautiful. 

Glancing down the rest of his body as he’s stretched out on your bed, your mouth waters. The tattoo drips down the entire left side of his body, every bone etched into his skin with precise and accurate detail, from the large, sturdy femur to the smallest, most fragile phalange. He’s always been beautiful to you. And when he’s like this, relaxed and pliant, his beauty is nearly radiant. Anticipation curls in your lower belly and nestles deep, tightening your core with desire. You remove your hand from his cock before you lose track of the game you want to play. 

“I need to hear you say it, love,” you whisper, cupping his face. 

“Please,” he says. “Whatever you want. Just so long as I get to touch you at the end of it.”

“Always.” Pressing a sweet kiss to his chin, you shift so you can kiss down his body easily. “Ready for the rules?” 

Hunter nods.

“Good. I’m going to touch parts of your tattoo—” You ghost your fingertips over the inked-in fifth rib as if to prove your words “—and you’re going to name the correct bone. Get them all right, and you get your reward.” 

His nipples stiffen from your touch and the sultry promise of your words. “And if- if I miss any?” 

Tweaking one of his nipples, you hum while you think. “Miss one, and you can only hold my breasts. Miss two, just my hips. Miss three or more, and you don’t get to touch at all while I take my pleasure from you. Understood?” 

“Y-Yes,” he gasps out. His hips stutter up in anticipation.

Sitting up, legs tucked under you, you let your gaze wander Hunter’s form once again. Sweat has already begun to collect in the dips and valleys of his muscles. At his sides, his fingers twist into the soft cotton sheets in anticipation of the sweet torture you’re about to enact. His chest rises and falls with deep, labored breaths; at the apex of his thighs, his cock bobs gently with each beat of his heart. 

When he begins to fidget, you take mercy on him. 

“What’s this one?” you murmur, trailing your touch along the gentle curve of one of the tattooed ribs. 

“Third rib,” he answers immediately. 

“Very good.” Featherlight, you glide your fingers across his heated skin. “And this?”

“Sternum.” His voice is only the slightest bit shaky.

You move up to his throat and lightly tap the bisected cervical vertebrae that covers the central bump of his throat. “This?” 

He swallows, his throat bobbing under your touch. “C5.” 

Delight skitters over your skin at the way that his voice has already begun to drip with raspiness. Catching your lip between your teeth, you take a steadying breath, trying to ignore the way your pussy flutters with need.

When you’re ready, you move on again. You sweep your thumb in a soothing semicircle over the swell of Hunter’s shoulder, and wait for him to answer.

“Th-That’s the scapula,” he says, a waver in his voice. “The front edge of it.” 

Warmth rushes through you, a heady mix of pride and lust. “Very good, Hunter.” 

Tired of simply touching him with your fingers, you shift down on the bed to press a kiss to one of his arm bones, lips warm and soft against his skin. 

His breath hitches. “Radius.” 

Another kiss to the other bone earns you a sigh of, “Ulna.” 

A pleased hum vibrates through you. Bypassing his hand, you shimmy lower still on the bed to place a kiss to his kneecap.

“P-Patella,” he rasps, voice catching.

Gazing up at him for a moment, your mouth waters at the way that he’s not even looking at you. His neck is strained and his eyes are squeezed shut. Closer at hand, precum beads at the tip of his cock, practically begging to be licked. Tempting though the idea is, you force yourself lower yet again.

You target one of the tiny bones of his foot, and flick your tongue against it. A groan punches out of Hunter’s chest as his fists tighten in the bedsheets. Mouth working, no words sound from him. 

You lick the tattoo again. “What’s this one called, love?” 

“I- I don’t know,” he admits. 

“That’s too bad,” you say, words full of syrupy regret. “One missed. What does that mean again?” 

A strangled sound claws from Hunter’s throat. “It— It means I can only touch your breasts.” 

“Good boy,” you murmur. Pressing a fresh kiss to his foot, you smirk against his skin. “Now, tell me this one.” 

Chest heaving, Hunter squirms. It takes him a long, tense moment, but finally he gasps out, “Second metatarsal!” 

“Atta boy.”

Crawling up his body, you intentionally let your hand brush his cock. 

“Fuck!” he swears, voice cracking. “Please, cyare, please.” 

“Please, what?” you say. Tilting his face to you, you search his expression for any hints of distress. All you find is desperation and need. 

“Please, just...” He swallows thickly. “Need you.” 

“Just a few more, love,” you promise, “then I’ll give you what we both want.” Skimming your knuckles over the blank space of his cheekbone, you raise your eyebrows expectantly. “Tell me this one, Hunter.” 

“Skull,” he says, but his voice is hesitant, guarded. “Zygomatic.”

You kiss his opposite cheek, humming your approval, then reach for his inked hand. He releases the sheets to let you lick a thin stripe up his entire pointer finger. “In order.” 

His hand squeezes yours. “Distal, middle, proximal phalanges.” A shuddering breath leaves him. “Then the metacarpal.” 

He’s done so well for you; you just need one more answer from him. Your own arousal is getting more and more difficult to ignore as slick makes your thighs slippery. Nudging his wrist with your nose, you make sure your breath fans over his skin, warm and comforting. 

“Trapezoid,” he breathes out.

“Oh, Hunter,” you coo, brow furrowing in mock pity. “I’m so sorry, that’s not the right one.” 

“W-What?” His head shoots up, a frantic look in his eyes. “Yes—it is, look it’s—”

He points to the one you just nosed over, frown overtaking his features. You let him process the information for as long as he needs—which is a few long moments, given the way his irises are nearly black and his skin has retained its goosebumps for several minutes now. When you see the realization dawn on his face like the sun, you press a chaste kiss to his lips. 

“S’okay, love,” you mumble against his mouth. “That’s the trapezium, but you were so close. And you can still hold my hips while I ride you.”

A broken groan slips from Hunter, but his hands immediately fly to grasp at you. Swinging your leg over his waist to straddle him, you catch his gaze and hold it as you line his cock up with your dripping entrance and—

Matching moans echo throughout your room as you take him inside you. Dropping your forehead to his, you lower yourself inch by inch onto his cock, until your pelvis rests flush with his hips. No matter how many times you take him, it’s still a stretch, his cock filling you in ways that make you feel complete. Whole.

“Thank you,” he sighs, eyes locked onto yours. His nails are blunt but no less painful where they bite crescents into your skin. “Stars, you always feel so good. So warm, so tight.” 

Bracing yourself with your elbows to either side of his head, you roll your hips instead of answering him. Hooking your feet over his powerful thighs, you set a lazy pace, driven only by the intense, burning need to make him finish with you. His hands never stray from your hips—always a dutiful partner, always willing to listen and follow orders to their conclusion—but even so, his touch burns into you, scorching your very soul. 

You turn your head to rest it on his shoulder, working your hips a little faster. “I love you.” 

“Stars, I love you too,” he murmurs. His fingers squeeze your sides. “Love this pussy, too.”

Chuckling, you flex your core just to hear him grunt. “That all?” 

“‘Course not,” he says. He’s close; you can tell just by how clipped his words are, how strained his voice is. “Love your ass. And your thighs, your tummy, your hands—f-fuck—your eyes.” 

His words drive your hips faster, making you chase a release that suddenly rears its head. Pleasure thrumming under your skin and sliding through your veins, you moan at his praise. You bite into his shoulder, whining. 

“Love how you take care of me,” he continues, voice softening. “Love the way you care about us. I just love you, cyare.” 

“Maker,” you gasp out. “Hunter, I- I’m—” 

“I know, mesh’la,” he murmurs.

His grip turns almost painful as he takes control, dragging your body back and forth over his. Toes curling, your moans muffled against his skin, you delight in the way that he knows exactly how to move you, to make you see stars. 

Somewhere in the symphony you two compose together, of moans and sighs, whimpers and groans, you find the edge of shattered bliss. Hunter can feel it, and he presses his hips up into yours just enough to shove you right over the cliff. Body locking up, you cry out for him, walls fluttering as he fucks you through your orgasm. Pleasure burns through every nerve ending; your ears ring, vision black at the edges for a moment, as you let Hunter give you what you both needed. Through the haze, you’re dimly aware of the way his hips falter as he cums, too. Warmth spilling within you, Hunter pants against your skin, nails digging into your flesh.

When you both come down, you raise your head to meet his gaze. His eyes crinkle in a soft smile. 

“Hi,” he murmurs. 

“Hey,” you mumble. Sleep already begins to curl around your senses. “Thank you.” 

He releases your hip to cup your face. “What for?” 

“I dunno.” Biting your lip, you offer a smile. “Just being you.” 

Hunter brings you down to kiss you, a sigh of, “Always,” fanning your lips.

Because Hunter is your always, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Ragu: @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @littlemissmanga @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebel @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @idontgetanysleep @eyeluvmusic21 @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sleepycreativewriter @bobaprint @dickarchivist @a-single-tulip @lem-hhn @thorsterstrudle @droids-you-are-looking-for @goblininawig @cw80831 @mssbridgerton @isaidonyourknees @dreamie411 @jedi-hawkins @dangraccoon @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @9902sgirl @originalcollectionartistry (if I can't tag you, please check your settings! Sign up here!)

#tbb hunter x reader #hunter x reader #the bad batch x reader #tbb x reader #the clone wars x reader #rhiwrites #hunter bad batch #hunter the bad batch

[of-birds-and-men]

Kass gave Link a warm smile, the early morning sun dipping him in honey and making his smile glow even more. “Well, this is quite out of the blue. Not even a ‘hello?’ Much less a ‘please?’”

Link’s lips snapped into a flustered frown. “I’m sorry,” he frantically signed. “Please, could you teach me?”

After throwing his head back to bellow a laugh, Kass chuckled, “I am only messing with you, my friend. Do not worry.” He patted the spot next to him on the landing where he sat, signaling Link to sit by him. “I’m curious about what song you want to play. Which is it?”

Accepting the invitation to sit next to Kass, Link kept his head down as he shuffled over. His eyes flicked around and his cheeks started to redden the slightest bit. Why the answer embarrassed him so much, he wasn’t so sure, but it was hard to get his reply out.

“Ah,” Kass said with his smile still prominent on his beak as he set his accordion down next to him. “Do you mean to learn the other Champions’ songs as well?”

Link breathed in through his teeth and shrugged. “Maybe. But I want to learn Revali’s right now if I can...”

Kass looked down at him with raised eyebrows, as if gently urging him to elaborate. 

With that, Link rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged again. “Well...I don’t know. I had some memories come to me, but they’re foggy and I can barely understand them. But, something is telling me today is Revali’s…” His hand dropped and his brow furrowed in thought. He knew the sign for the Hylian term but didn’t know it for the Rito if there even was one for it. Opting to fingerspell, Link spelled it out with his fingers as Kass read it closely.

When he was finished, Kass’s beak hung open a little in interest. “Oh, so today is Champion Revali’s Hatchday? I had no idea.”

“Yeah, I…”

“...I think so.”

“You mean to play his song in his memory today?”

Link’s cheeks burned brighter. “Is that stupid?”

“Oh, no. Not in the slightest,” Kass assured, waving his hand. “In fact, I think it’s a lovely idea.”

“...Thanks. I don’t know what else I would do anyway. If there was something, I don’t remember it,” Link said, his hands moving slowly. His mind drifted; not that there was anywhere for it to go after his century-long sleep practically wiped it clean. 

He brought himself back to where he was with a sigh. “I don’t know. I would do something or leave him a gift, but I remember next to nothing about him. I don’t remember what he liked or even what he hated. Nothing...”

It was true. There were only a couple of clear memories of Revali that Link remembered now. Only a few moments where Link could see his face and hear his voice clearly. And then there were even more blurry, foggy images of him that were slowly trickling in and left Link with more questions than answers. Leaving him feeling like there was so much more that he was missing. Almost like he was missing an important part of himself; of what his life had been before Calamity Ganon struck.

Really, it was the same thing with everyone; with Zelda, Mipha, Urbosa, and Daruk. Brief memories, some clear and some so hazy they were beyond recognition.

But with Revali, it was somehow different. It hurt more. It was severely more painful. It made both his heart and head ache. And he had no idea why it was the case for Revali out of all of them. Why the one who seemed to like him the least, or even hated him, made Link feel this longing...No, this need...to remember and know him like he used to. However it had been.

Still, even though his mind was riddled by all sorts of questions he couldn’t answer after forgetting everything but his own name…

Something within him couldn’t quite let itself completely forget.

“But I know that I have to do something for him and this is all I can think of,” Link finished, taking his time with every hand motion as he stared down at the lake below them; the surface of the water was almost black with the light of the morning sun not having reached it yet.

Noticing the gloom that was beginning to dawn on Link again, Kass leaned over and spoke up in a chipper voice. “It is more than a generous gift. Do not sell yourself short. I’m sure that if he is still there to listen, he will be grateful.” 

Link forced a small smile to give to Kass. “Thank you. I hope you’re right.”

Kass let the corners of his beak curl all the way up to try and settle whatever troubles he thought Link had. “I must say though, I did not take you for the musical type,” he began. “What does a man like you play?”

Letting out a short hum, Link fumbled around in the small bag on his belt to show the instrument in question. Once he fished it out, he held it out for Kass to see.

It was an ocarina he had come across in his travels. His curiosity had driven him to buy it with the extra rupees he had on hand when he saw it amongst Beedle’s wares. Though, it wasn’t until he actually held it and felt the cool ceramic touch on his skin and the shape in his hands, did he realize it was not so much curiosity as it was familiarity. Or something close to it.

And again, it was proven to Link that while his head was clear of what made him himself in the past, there were many things that his body seemed to remember. Muscle memory helped him ride horses like a pro straight away, and instinct along with that allowed him to fight the way he had before without needing to relearn much of anything. It was the same sort of thing for the ocarina; as soon as he brought the mouthpiece to his lips, his fingers knew exactly where to go to play notes he didn’t remember and songs he couldn’t recall. It all came to him naturally as if playing it was once something that was ingrained in him. And he found himself occasionally fiddling with it until now. Too busy to really sit down and learn anything new, but playing what his lips and fingers remembered when he had a moment to himself.

If Link couldn’t leave Revali a proper gift on his Hatchday, then at least he could play his song, one of the last things the world had left to remember him by. Whether it was for Revali himself, if he was still there, or if it was in his memory on his day.

Or, even if it was just for Link; a way to remember Revali with what little he had left.

Hopefully, it would be enough. But it definitely didn’t feel like it, even if it was all he could really do.

“An ocarina certainly does suit you,” Kass said, looking at the instrument in Link’s hands before peering at him and pointing at it. “Ah, may I?”

Link nodded, allowing Kass to take the ocarina in his hands and examine it himself.

“Can you play it, too?” Link asked.

Tittering, Kass replied, “Well, Rito aren’t exactly equipped to play wind instruments, considering our anatomy.” He tapped his beak. “Though, I think once I found a way around it to make it work with this blasted thing on my face. Would you mind if I tried?”

Link’s lips tightly creased together to keep him from smirking as he shook his head and motioned toward the ocarina. He watched as Kass brought it to his beak, which clacked against the ceramic as he tried to find the best position.

Kass’ feathers ruffled; clearly, he was flustered, but he tried his best to get past it by laughing it off. “Well, this is certainly humbling. This proves that no matter how esteemed of a bard I may be, I simply cannot master everything...What with my pesky beak and less than graceful fingers.” He rubbed the mouthpiece of the ocarina on his scarf before handing it back to Link.

With how much spit he saw flying from Kass when he was trying the ocarina, Link decided to rub it again on his clothes for good measure. 

Kass let out another embarrassed chuckle and twisted around to grab his accordion. “I might not be able to give you direction, but I can teach you the notes.”

Link nodded. “That works,” he said, his last words before readying his hands to focus on his ocarina rather than on speaking.

Smiling while he slid his hands through his instrument’s straps, Kass said, “Well, let’s begin then.”

~

Link opened his mouth to say something, finding himself gaping at Vah Medoh, but clamped it shut again. He attached the ocarina to his belt for a moment to speak with his hands.

Whether he was really alone or if there was still someone there to see him, he was not sure at all. After the defeat of Ganon, he was never sure what happened to Revali or the others.

Even so...he had the feeling he wasn’t quite alone.

But maybe that was just him being hopeful. Hopeful that he wasn’t just making a fool of himself. Grasping at straws for nothing.

“Hi.” Instantly, he cringed at himself and hissed through his teeth. Now he really felt stupid. Nonetheless, he made himself go on. “I’m not sure if you’re even here right now or if I’m talking to myself. But, either way-“ Link took a second to swallow and fix his eyes back down to the ground beneath him. “I wish I could say I remember you. There are only little things I remember, but something is telling me there’s so much more to you...to us...that I’m still missing.”

Link licked his lips. He hoped that he was, in fact, alone, so Revali wouldn’t be seeing him rambling on to himself.

“But I know that we were close somehow. I feel that, once, you were the most important thing to me, but that’s all I know. I’m sorry.” He bit his lip that was still wet from when he licked them. “That’s why when I remembered it was your birthday-“ Link froze, then corrected, “Sorry, hatchday...I knew I had to do something for you, because, in a way, you still matter to me now as much as you did before. But you’re still a mystery to me; I know nothing about you further than you being a Champion and being the pride of your people.” He laughed a little to himself. “And that you didn’t like me at all. At first, at least. I’m not sure.”

Finally, he racked up the courage to look back up at Vah Medoh. “I do know your song though, which I’m sure you’d like to know is played by bards to keep your memory alive. I’m not one of those at all, but I can just barely remember how to play this thing and Kass taught me how to play your song. One of the things of yours that’s still here- Even if these are all the memories I can ever have of you, at least I can have this. And your bow, too.”

Nervously, he started to chuckle to himself. “I don’t know what I’m saying. Maybe I never should’ve said anything. Anyway, the point is...I know it’s a crummy present and I don’t know if you’re even still here to listen, but I learned how to play your song for you.”

Done with his monologue, Link anxiously took the ocarina off of his belt. For a moment, he stared at it and focused on the cool touch of it in his hand before slowly bringing it up to his mouth. He took in a deep breath while his fingers went to their places and he played what he learned for Revali.

Dormant, Vah Medoh said nothing in reply, leaving Revali alone to revel in both Link’s appearance and song. That was fine. He honestly hadn’t expected her to reply anyway.

Even when he couldn’t even remember him, Link was still annoyingly sentimental. It brought bittersweet comfort that, even with everything that had happened, it was still the same Link before him. His Link.

He had the same golden hair he used to run his fingers through. The same lustrous, sapphire eyes he used to stare into. The same quiet laugh that warmed Revali’s heart. The same strength that Revali both envied and once fell in love with. The same kindness. The same courage. The same everything. Every little thing Revali loved and even hated about him was still there, down below, playing a song for someone he didn’t even know anymore.

Still, it hurt knowing Link didn’t know him. Seeing no recollection on his face when Link first came to Vah Medoh...Seeing Link looking at him as if he was a stranger…

Well, it nearly broke his heart. To be eventually forgotten by his people was worse enough, but then to have the one he loved come back to him only to forget him, too…

Revali sniffed, resting his hand under his chin to watch Link far down below. 

Link was right. This was a crummy present. His finger clumsily fumbled around and he kept blowing into the ocarina’s mouthpiece too hard or too soft. Even from here, he could see his spit flying. Funny how, even over a hundred years later, he never did get better with that thing.

He really was still his Link. Just how he remembered him. Just how he loved him. How he would, unfortunately, always love him. Even if it meant being unrequited for the rest of time.

~~~

GASPS OUT OF BREATH,,,,,, WOW OKAY,, umm LOL here is le @revalinkexchange gift for @mars-janka ??? I. hm. certainly took some liberties and for some reason with my srs lack of expertise ..I was like “HEY I KNOW HOW TO MAKE THIS INFINITELY HARDER ON MYSELF!!! WRITE AND ALSO DRAW A BILLION PICTURES WHICH IS SOMETHING I BARELY KNOW HOW 2 DO.” 

//sobs// i was so drained of my life juices by the end that the quality DROPPED and im genuinely so sorry pls forgive me wwwwwwwwwwww- i even redrew the last link panels to try and make it better if u can believe it LOL i also was considering making a prose only version of this to make up for it but i honestly don’t know how to translate some bits to that...SO- ah

anyway...yaaaaaaaahhh happy valentine’s day!! hope u still like it despite my clear depletion of life juices dskjghkjag

also teehee ty @udog​ for helping me w vah medoh u smell

#i also was planning on posting it on ao3 but. #but frankly posting it here with the images was a fucking NIGHTMARE as it is so im. not... exactly interested in doing that anymore LOL #it's fucking 6:30 am im going to SLEEP so i can have enough energy to draw teba in a maid outfit as my own present to myself. HAHA #dont ask me when i'll return to our regularly scheduled programming i kind of never want to take drawing seriously ever again ASHGKASDGKJDHG #revalink #revali #botw #revalinkexchange #revalink exchange #? #bweh #botw revali

[calpalirwin]

Nights in the OR

A/N: This is called “I watch too much Grey’s Anatomy” so if you’re a fellow Grey’s fan in addition to a fellow Ashton ho, hi!

Word Count: 1.9k

And away, and away we go!

__

Nights on the peds floor we’re, in a word, uneventful. Low hums and beeps from machines doing their jobs while kids and parents alike snoozed between nurses prodding them awake to do their routine checks. You went through the charts of your patients, delegating a duo of an intern and older resident to each case with strict orders to page you only if something was seriously wrong, and a bright “Keep the tiny humans alive,” before making your way to the emergency room.

The trauma team usually ran the emergency room, a sea of green scrubs moving effectively and efficiently, assessing situations before paging the right departments, or diving headfirst into the work themselves. You caught sight of one of the doctors, a tall man in a shade of green scrubs darker than the rest in the room, and rolled your eyes. Attending trauma surgeon Ashton Irwin was about as arrogant as he was skilled, with an annoying habit of assessing quickly, albeit correctly, and working even faster on patients before shipping them off to the correct departments to deal with the fallout. You weren’t sure if that man had ever spent more than an hour, two tops, with a patient from start to finish. True to his arrogance and almost zero tolerance for sloppy mistakes, he was talking in hushed tones to a second year, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, jaw set, as the resident nodded frantically before running off.

Dr. Irwin took a moment to compose himself, giving the slightest shake of his head and relaxing his jaw, before turning to wherever he was needed next. His hazel eyes scanned the room, and even from where you were you could tell that they were more on the green side tonight as they met yours. He offered forth the smallest of nods and smiles in your direction, dimples indenting both sides of the smile.

You returned the gesture, before twirling your index finger about the room. Extra attending on hand.

He waved his hand. No need. Got it covered, thanks.

You smiled your best, I don’t give a damn smile, striding across the room to take a seat behind a computer, crossing your hands behind your head. And with little else to do on your part, you settled in for a long night of researching the pros and cons of artificial bones versus prosthetics in cases for patients with osteosarcoma, a joint effort you were working on with the orthopedic surgeon.

Around 2 in the morning, you took a break from your research to grab a cup of coffee and a small bite to eat. On your way back, you spotted the orthopedic surgeon with a patient. “Oh! Dr. Hood,” you said as you approached. “Come find me when you’re done. I have some ideas.”

The man swiveled on his chair to glance up at you, eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “You’re not in OR 2 with Ash?”

“Nnnnoooo…” you said slowly, taking a sip from your coffee. “Why?” you followed up in a clipped tone. What had Dr. Arrogant done now?

Dr. Hood smiled politely at his patient, and got the attention of his resident. “Ma’am, we’re going to take you up for X-rays now, and then we’ll see about setting your arm for you, okay?”

The woman nodded, clearly shaken up. Then, “What about my husband and son?”

“I’ll get word, and update you as soon as I can,” he promised, before the resident escorted the patient up to X-rays. Finally he turned his attention to you. “Car accident just came in. Parents are a little banged up. Mike and Luke are working up the dad. You know how Luke gets about stitches.”

The both of you shared a chuckle. Luke Hemmings, the plastic surgeon, had very high standards for even the most basic of stitches, and if he was on hand and free, it was an easy bet he’d do the work himself. “So, what’s Mike doing with him then, if it’s just stitches?” you asked, referring to the general surgeon.

He shrugged. “General work up and clearance, I suppose. But the mom and the son’s side took the impact the hardest. Specifically the son. Ash didn’t page you?”

You scoffed. “Why on Earth would Ash page me, Cal? It’s trauma,” you raised your hands and voice in a mocking manner.

“Uh, probably cuz the kid is like seven.”

You growled low in your throat, hands going to tie up your hair. “OR 2, you said? How long ago?”

“Not too long. They gotta still be prepping. So if you hurry…”

“Thanks, Cal,” you patted the man on the shoulder before taking off at a run towards the OR rooms, briefly mourning your discarded coffee and potato chips in the process.

When you shouldered your way into the room, Ashton was in the process of scrubbing in, while nurses finished prep. “What the hell are you doing?” you demanded, arms crossing instinctively over your chest as you made your presence known.

Ashton shut off the water with his elbow, turning slightly to face you. “My job,” was the reply in a tone that questioned your intelligence.

“Bullshit,” you spat. “That,” you pointed out the window towards the child on the table, “is a peds case, and you know it.”

“It will be once it stops being a trauma case, yes.”

“Why didn’t you page me?”

“Because I don’t need you. It’s a trauma case. I’m a trauma surgeon. Now, you want to stop asking inane questions, and let me do my job, or you wanna stand here and fight with me all night?”

“It’s a peds trauma case, and in case you forgot, I’m the peds attending who happens to be trauma certified. And I’ll be damned if you do some hacksaw job on my patient that I have to fix later when I can scrub in and do the correct job now. So, are you going to ask me to scrub in, or do you wanna stand here questioning my credentials all night when you know I’m right? Do not make me go above your head to the Chief, Ash, because you know I will.”

His jaw ticked underneath his mask, his eyes hard as he thought over your threat. “Well?” he snapped after a beat of silence. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to scrub in?”

~~~

It was a grueling surgery, working in tandem with Ashton. For all the shit the two of you gave each other outside of the OR, inside you were one of the best teams, each of you knowing each other’s moves before you made them, and knowing what the other was thinking in the subtlest of changes. Even with both of your focuses solely on the patient in front of you, you were both vigilant in sending Ashton’s intern out every hour on the hour with updates, in which you two were also informed of the parents’ recovery.

Just before the four hour mark, Ashton let out a small hum of approval and you nodded. “Close and get him a room on the peds floor,” you told the intern.

“You don’t want me to update the family?”

“No,” Ashton cut in, already discarding his gloves, mask, and removing his scrub cap, shocks of curly brown hair falling forward and plastering to his sweaty forehead. “I will. Give Dr. Y/L/N any trouble and you won’t see the inside of an OR for a month.”

The intern gulped, knowing their boss meant what he said and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Y/N, I’ll meet you after I update the family to make sure we’re on the same page for how to proceed from here?”

“If you can remember how to page me, that is,” you smiled sweetly.

Ashton chuckled as he left the OR, while you stayed to oversee the intern closing, providing probably much gentler instruction than they were used to.

~~~

You rubbed at your eyes and stifled a yawn as you made your way to the cafeteria, still waiting for Ashton to page you. As you walked in, you realized why Ashton still hadn’t paged, spotting the man chatting with a few other attendings.

“Heard Y/N chewed your ear off,” Michael snickered.

“Yeah, she was pissed. Thanks for that, Cal,” Ashton said with a small giggle before changing his voice to do his best impersonation of you, “ ‘It’s a peds trauma case, and in case you forgot, I’m the peds attending who also happens to be trauma certified. Do not make me go over your head.’ Like yes, darling, I know. I’m the one who gave you your trauma certification.”

As the men started to laugh, you set your tray down in an empty seat at their table. “Morning, gentlemen!”

There was a cough as they tried to stifle their laughter, each of them getting out a choked, “Morning.”

“What were we talking about?” you asked innocently.

“Uh… just how Luke needs to learn to loosen up on the stitches,” Michael thought quickly. “Turns a five minute procedure into a half hour ordeal, it’s insane.”

“Sorry that I care how my patients look after a trauma,” Luke said with an eye roll.

“I’m sure, psych would call that mentality projection,” Calum teased.

“Paging Dr. Pretty Boy!” Ashton cackled.

“Hey! Rather be Dr. Pretty Boy than Dr. Arrogant,” Luke rounded on Ashton playfully.

“Who calls me that?”

“Uh… everybody. Y/N’s pretty accurate with her nicknaming,” Calum grinned.

Ashton let out a breath of disbelief as you smiled sheepishly at him, shrugging your shoulders. “Have you considered being less arrogant?”

“I am not arrogant!”

“Yeah, you are,” you all chorused, while Ashton crossed his arms and pouted. “Oh, whatever, the best surgeons usually are” you continued, turning your attention to Calum. “Before I got stuck in surgery, I meant to talk to you about artificial bones. Found some promising stuff.”

Calum paused in his sip of coffee. “Mmm, shit, awesome. Uh…” he checked his watch, “I got a half hour before rounds. You got time now?”

You checked your own watch. “Yeah, I got t-”

“Actually,” Ashton interrupted. “Y/N, I was wondering if we could talk real quick first. About the kid.”

“Oh! Yeah. We should probably do that. Cal, I’m off after rounds, if you’re free then.”

“Sounds good,” he nodded as he went back to his coffee while you and Ashton rose from the table, bidding the other three goodbye.

“So, his chart’s all up to date. I have one of my fourth years monitoring the situation, but I’m not expecting any complications to arise. Should be good to discharge probably later today or early tomorrow at the latest,” you brought him up to speed as you walked.

“Yeah, that’s great,” Ashton rushed, eyes darting around as he pushed open an on-call room and locked the door behind the two of you. “How long we got til rounds?”

“A little under a half hour, why?”

Ashton smirked as his hands landed hot on your waist, his lips finding yours. “Wanna boss me around some more?” he murmured against your lips, before he was trailing kisses down the column of your neck, before sucking into the sweet spot just before your collarbone, his hands jerking you to be flush against him. “Or, do you want my sincerest apology for being Dr. Arrogant, and forgetting to page you earlier?”

“Mmmm,” you moaned softly, tilting your head back, eyes shutting. “Little bit of both?”

“Yes ma’am,” he winked before scrubs went flying and your back hit the mattress.

__

Tag List

@aquarius-hood1996​ @creator-appreciator​ @philthepegacorn​ @myfavfanficsever​ @cxddlyash​ @youngblood199456​ @stormrider505​ @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof​ @hoodhoran​ @metalandboybands​ @maybeememez​ @major5sosstan​ @kaitieskidmore1​ 

#nights in the or #ashton irwin #ashton irwin fic #ashton irwin x reader #ashton irwin au #5sos #calpal irwin

[bluerose5]

An Eye for an Eye

Relationship: Thane/Garrus (pre-relationship)

Word Count: 1,426

Summary: When Shepard goes to speak with Sidonis, Thane stays behind with Garrus. After he lets Sidonis go, they have a talk while they're alone.

Warnings: Pre-Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt & Comfort, Mentions of Drinking, Survivor Guilt, Implied/Referenced PTSD, Grief/Mourning

Read it here on AO3.

His finger was itching to pull the trigger.

As Shepard turned away from the conversation, there was a brief moment where Garrus had Sidonis in his sights. He was caught in his crosshairs, and all it would take was a slight flex of his finger for it to all be over with.

All of those sleepless nights, forcing down the screams from nightmares, waking up in a cold sweat...

It was frightening.

When Sidonis described how every day has passed since leaving Omega, Garrus swore that he was listening to an audio recording of his day-to-day routine. It was something he would expect to hear from a biography or a memoir, a private journal perhaps.

Staring at Sidonis from afar felt like looking at himself in a mirror.

A shattered, broken mirror.

Garrus felt a hand on his, so he lowered the rifle.

Not once did he take his eyes off of Sidonis, not until he was out of sight.

He took a deep breath, but it offered no comfort. His chest hurt, and his eyes burned. Yet nothing he did seemed to help.

Thane sat beside him on the maintenance walkway, staring down at the crowd below.

"You did the right thing," he said.

Carefully, Thane took the gun away from him and set it aside, ensuring that the safety was on. He settled in by Garrus’s side, sitting cross-legged while he waited for him to recover.

Garrus swallowed thickly.

"I don't know," he whispered. "It doesn't feel like a victory."

"Forgiveness rarely feels triumphant, no matter how fulfilling fiction makes it out to be. To forgive someone, they had to have wronged you in some way to begin with, and being on the receiving end of someone's wrongdoings isn't exactly a pleasant experience."

Thane leaned his weight back onto his hands. Garrus hesitated but eventually followed suit.

Their fingers brushed. At first, they shied away from such a touch, but the longer they sat and talked, the easier it was to avoid second-guessing themselves.

Thane's hand curled around his, so Garrus flipped his over, making it somewhat easier to tangle their fingers together.

Garrus's heart pounded within his chest.

"I know what it is like," Thane explained, "to experience loss and seek peace through vengeance."

Garrus listened, but each beat of his heart brought nothing but pulsating pain.

All he wanted was to fold under the pressure, to curl in on himself and scream until his throat was raw.

He didn't know how much they had meant to him —really meant to him— until they were gone.

Two years, all down the drain.

"They were my family," Garrus croaked. His dual tones were shattered, distorted by his grief. "They were my men. Lantar was there from the beginning. He was—"

Garrus stopped short before he could go too far, but that was the thing about Thane. Thane didn't need to hear the words to understand.

He squeezed Garrus’s hand.

"I know," he murmured. "I know."

For a moment, neither of them said a word. Garrus eventually leaned his head on Thane’s shoulder, but Thane didn't push him away. If anything, Thane pulled him closer, wrapping his arm around him in acceptance.

Garrus buried his face into Thane’s throat and released a low, mournful trill.

Thane’s grip on him tightened, but Garrus had to ask.

He had to know that he did the right thing, whatever that may be.

"You—" He cleared his throat. "You said you know what it’s like to seek peace through vengeance.”

"I did," he stated matter-of-factly, "or closure, at the very least. Maybe I wasn't even looking for peace. I simply had to make her killers pay for what they had done."

Garrus paused, taking a second to process that.

"Did it make you any happier?"

"Some sadistic part of me, deep down, probably enjoyed it at the time, but ultimately? No. Then again, I didn't factor my happiness into the equation. That was never going to influence the outcome."

"Perhaps it should have."

"Perhaps."

Strange, wasn't it? That Garrus felt so safe, so comforted, in the arms of an assassin.

"Last question."

"Shoot."

"Did avenging her make any of the pain go away?" He didn't need to elaborate. Thane understood more than most the pain of loss, of grief. "Even a little?"

"No." There was no hesitation in his answer. "It's all still there, haunting my every step. I still see what remained of her when I close my eyes. Some days, it's easier to function if I don't focus on it for too long, but it's hard to ignore a gaping hole in one's soul."

Yeah, Garrus could understand that.

Even now, he could feel the blood on his hands. He could hear their last breaths rattling in their lungs. He could see their eyes go unfocused, staring off into the distance.

He could hear their spirits hiss, Why you?

Why did he get to survive? When all else failed, why was he the one who lived while everyone else suffered for his mistakes?

Seemed like Sidonis wasn’t the only one Garrus needed to forgive.

"What if I would have followed through?" Garrus asked, desperate to take his attention off of the voices whispering in his head. “I had a chance at the end there. It would have been so easy...”

He trailed off, uncertain.

Thane glanced down at him, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.

Garrus reached out to wipe them away before they could fall.

Thane leaned into his touch.

"Hard to say," Thane told him. "After all, every person I killed was a stranger who I had no attachment to, an enemy and nothing beyond that. But, this Sidonis... He was your friend and your enemy. How would it have felt if it was you carving the hole into your spirit yourself?"

To that, Garrus had no answer.

"Something to think about, at least."

"Indeed."

For a while, they simply sat there together, watching the people stroll about Orbital Lounge, oblivious to the chaos that could have been.

"Well," Garrus sighed, "we better go meet back up with Shepard before she gets too worried."

He got to his feet and offered his hand, which Thane took without the slightest bit of hesitation. He might not have needed the assistance, but Garrus helped him up anyways.

As he pulled him to his feet, they stood chest-to-chest. Garrus marveled at how he towered over him. Then again, he towered over almost everyone on the squad.

Still, looking down at him, Garrus felt some of the pressure ease off of his heart. Pain lingered, but the partial relief was a welcome one regardless.

He didn't want this moment between them to end the second they left the lounge.

Thane had always been a tough shell to crack, but Shepard had been pushing him to start interacting more with the crew. Garrus hoped that, after today and what they had shared, they could forge a close friendship, if nothing else.

Without thinking, Garrus acted on an impulse, leaning his forehead against Thane's.

Thane stiffened, and Garrus was ready to retreat and apologize; however, before he had the chance to do so, Thane settled his hands upon Garrus’s waist. All of the tension that had built up in Thane's body was washed away as swiftly as it came.

Of course, Garrus grew flustered when confronted by such an easygoing acceptance, yet the intensity of Thane's gaze had him pinned into place.

Never had someone touched Garrus's waist so casually, especially in public.

It coaxed a soft, crooning noise from the back of Garrus’s throat. Something that he was quick to muffle as heat filled his face.

The hide under his plating was starting to take on a bluish tinge, more concentrated around his throat.

Given Thane’s extensive knowledge of alien anatomy for the sake of his career, Garrus could only assume that he knew well enough that a turian’s waist was a soft, sensitive spot. A weakness to exploit.

In more ways than one, so it seemed.

"So, uh—" Garrus stammered, trying to collect what shreds of dignity he still had intact. "You know, after this, I'm gonna need a drink."

Thane chuckled, a sound that spread warmth throughout Garrus’s body.

"Or several," Thane corrected. "And after I deal with this business with my son, I figure I'll be in the same boat. Want to join me in Life Support after?"

Garrus didn't need to be asked twice.

"I wouldn’t miss it for the world."

#mass effect trilogy #mass effect 2 #mass effect legendary edition #thane krios #garrus vakarian #lantar sidonis #commander shepard #thane krios x garrus vakarian #thane x garrus #vakarios #is that the ship name? #hell if i know #😂 #my oneshot #my fanfic #my writing

[limitededitionsanderssidesblog]

Speech Impediment - Chapter 12

Ships: logicality, prinxiety, platonic dlamp

Summary: Virgil reveals a bit of his past to Dexter, just enough for him to understand his friends pain. Afterwards Dexter confronts his family.

AO3 - Here

Chapter One Previous Next

TW: past suicide, mentioned parent abandonment, chocking.

“Why didn’t they love me?!”

The night was already quiet around them, the only sound provided being the wind howling against the windows. The freezing temperatures outside began to seep into the vehicle as the heater had been turned off when Dexter removed the keys from the ignition. Virgil shuddered in his seat, most likely from more than just the cold. Dexter had to get them out of there and to a better location.

Getting out of the car, Dexter went around and opened the door for the other, helping him out and escorting him to the dorms. Asking where he wanted to go, Virgil murmured in a hoarse voice that he wanted to go to his dorm room, so Dexter took him there. The room was empty, Roman still being at work, and shy of any warmth. So it wasn’t too much better than where they had been previously. The building didn’t have heaters, meaning that the students had to buy them themselves. Helping him to sit down on his bed, Dexter went over to the long, cylindrical heater and turned it on high. 

By the time he turned around to face him again, Virgil had already gotten under his covers and curled up in a ball, hidden from sight. Dexter smiled sadly and walked over, sitting down gently beside the blanketed ball and resting a hand on what he thought, and hopped, was his shoulder.

“Virgil?” He called out quietly, “Are you feeling bad?”

He was answered by a unhappy whine.

“You know you can’t talk to me right?” 

The anxious emo didn’t respond and instead just curled up more on himself, Dexter, not wanting to push his friend out of his comfort zone, made himself comfortable and pulled out his phone and opened the YouTube app, putting on a vine compilation. If there was anything he knew would cheer Virgil up, it was vines.

“Hey bro what do you want to eat?”

“The souls of the innocent.”

“A bagel.”

“No!”

“Two bagels.”

A muffled chuckle came from under the covers.

“He doesn’t deserve you. If he doesn’t treat you right by now, you’re gone.”

“I’m gone!”

“Now go chop his dick off!”

The vines continued on, and so did the soft giggles. After about ten minutes of the first vine compilation, Virgil poked his head out of the covers. Soon after, he was sitting side by side with Dexter watching the vines, his manner becoming more relaxed and his tears dried. About forty minutes of mindless entertainment had passed until he was finally calm and sure enough to talk.

“Thanks Dee.” He murmured tiredly as he rested his head on Dexter’s shoulder, exhausted from his emotional episode.

“Do mention it.” The sneky boi replied, “Feeling worse?”

“A bit.” Virgil shrugged, “Just... just remembered something is all.”

Dexter looked sideways at the older, but slightly smaller, student, noting the distant and sad look in his eyes,

“Do you not want to talk about it?”

Virgil stayed quiet for awhile more, appearing to be at a miniature war with himself over whether or not he wanted to speak. Dexter waited patiently until he decided what he wanted to do.

“Long fucked up story short: my dad left when I was ten, my mom killed herself when I was thirteen, and I lived with my homophobic grandparents until graduation.” 

Well shit, what was he supposed to say to that? Whatever explanation he had cooked up in his mind was nothing compared to that, now he’s going to look like an uncaring asshole if he doesn’t speak up fast-

“Wow.”

FUCKING PERFECT!

Virgil gave a halfhearted chuckle, completely different from the one earlier.

“Yeah, it’s not your typical story... but it’s mine. Guess we can be fucked up together, right?”

“I’m not fucked up?” Dexter echoed, well, tried to anyway.

“Yeah, I mean look at you!” Dexter faltered and looked down at himself, trying to find the flaw that Virgil saw. Realizing how he sounded, Virgil quickly backtracked, stuttering an apology. “N-n-not that there’s anything wrong with you, you’re a great person. I just meant that your family is a bit fucked up.”

“Is that why you didn’t yell at my mother?” Dexter questioned, feeling relieved that it was him that Virgil saw as a mistake.

“Yeah... seeing her act like you were... some kind of monster really pissed me off. I mean you were just hugging your sister! Why the fuck did she have to act like that?!”

“I’m aloud to be around her. That wasn’t the rule ever since she was born.”

“It’s a fucking stupid ass rule! You’re family not a stranger. A family should accept one another, stick it out through the bad, encourage each other and lift them up, no matter the flaws. At least that’s what I always thought. Not really how mine turned out either.”

“I haven’t gotten used to it, it’s never been this way-”

“But it shouldn’t have to be! Just because shit happens doesn’t mean everything needs to be shit. Fuck your parents, if they don’t treat you right by now, you’re gone.”

Dexter looked over at Virgil, and saw that the other was smirking at him. It took a moment, but eventually his brain processed what he needed to say next.

“I’m not gone.” He whispered, grinning as well.

“Now go chop their dicks off.”

The next day Dexter sat through several meetings with his parents and professors. His little sister Daisy often sat to the side while they talked, watching some kid show to pass the time on her tablet as she waited. The conversations with his Anatomy and Calculus professors went fairly well. Professor Mraz noted his early struggle with calculus at the beginning of the semester, but praised his tenacity and hard work with the subject to be able to come out with a B+ on the final. His parents seemed pleased enough that he was doing well.

The tricky part came at around three in the afternoon when they pad a visit to Professor Sharps’s room. Her room was so obviously a writing class, Dexter could only hold his breath and pray to God that his parents wouldn’t take too much notice. Miss Sharp was sitting at her desk when they all walked in, working on some kind of paperwork as she waited for them to arrive. Dexter had made sure to give all his professors a few hours notice prior to each meeting.

Her long ginger hair was pulled back into a french braid and she was wearing one of her favorite green dresses with a red blazer. Seeing the family walk in, Miss Sharp rolled her wheelchair over to greet his folks, each with a handshake and a polite hello.

“Hello, I’m Professor Sharp, your son’s Classic Literature teacher.” She introduced herself, giving a small wink and a smile towards Dexter, which he returned.

“Hello Miss,” His father replied, shaking her hand, his mother doing the same next, “I’m James Woodbrooke, and this is my wife Katrina.”

“How do you do?” She greeted with a smile.

“Simply splendid I solemnly suppose.” She giggle as she spoke, “That’s an alliteration, a little exercise I like to do with my students because it helps with- their study of classic literature!” Miss Sharp quickly corrected herself from spilling the beans. Dexter could find any fault with her however, she was a writing enthusiast after all. Trying to turn her switch off is as easy as lifting ten tons of bricks. That was an oxymoron.

“Hm, well I came here to ask about Dexter’s performance in your class. Has he been... behaving well? Been a decent student?” James asked delicately, trying not to appear suspicious in his concern. Miss Sharp’s eyes furrowed ever so slightly at his question. She glance over at Dexter before she answered, making him squirm a little in embarrassment.  

“I like to think of Dexter as my best student. He is always here on time, never misses a day, is well prepared, and fully attentive during lectures and interactives. His grade is the highest in the class and is work is commendable.” She answered curtly, holding herself with a firm stance, not breaking eye contact with his father. His father huffed and crossed his arms, apparently not impressed in the slightest.

“Well he did say he wanted to be an English teacher. Still, with his disability I don’t he’ll be able to make it very far in the field.” James said nonchalantly.

“With his abilities I believe Dexter will exceed in this field.” Miss Sharp wheeled herself back slightly, smoothing out the creases in her blazer, still not once breaking eye contact. “We met, we discussed, we concluded. I could do this forever, but time is money. Work will not wait. Anaphora, Hyperbole, Metaphor, and Alliteration.” She grinned widely, enjoying the offending face of her mother, and annoyed look of his father. “Don’t have a good day.”

His parents busted out of the doors shouting in anger, screaming complaints about her audacity to speak to them that way. In fact, they were so angry that they didn’t even notice that Dexter was holding hands with Daisy as they walked after them. He savored every moment of contact he had with his sister, and so did she, knowing that this would be a rarity for them.

Once they all climbed into Dexter’s buggy, directing them to take him to a decent place for dinner, their shouts became loud, angry talking.

“That woman thinks she knows our son? She must be just as insane if she thinks he could ever exceed.” His father scoffed, “Why are you even in school? I thought you were going to work at the shop with me.”

“I thought it would be a bad idea to have a backup career.” Dexter mumbled next to him, trying to not let his words sting and focused on the road.

“It is a bad idea. Maybe if you could talk correctly I’d be okay with it, but how the hell are you going to teach with your impediment?”

“James please, we’ve discussed that Dexter isn’t just cut out to be a mechanic. That’s why you’re training his cousin, remember?” His mom said from the back seat.

“Whatever.” He grumbled.

The restaurant he had taken them all to was a personal favorite of Logan and Patton called Romello’s Italian Restaurant. The two often went here on their dates and would sometimes bring back leftovers form him and the others to share. The clam linguine was to risk death for and he’d definitely be getting it tonight.

The four of them sat at a booth, Daisy and his mother on one side, and him and his father on the other. Dexter suspected it was to keep him away from his sister. Conversation would have been nonexistent if it wasn’t for Day, the little girl loved to talk the ear off of anyone who would listen to her rambled about what element Neptune’s atmosphere is comprised of and all the like. And at the moment, they had no chance but to listen, as neither he nor his parents budged.

The server came with their drinks and took their orders, leaving them to, once again, listen to Day talk about everything she knows about space. It seems that his little sister already knew what she wanted to be, and she claimed that she’d be the first human to reach beyond our solar system.

It wasn’t until their bread sticks were brought over that she had quieted down, shoving her face full with the snack. His father decided to take the opportunity to speak.

“Dexter, I think you should drop Professor Sharp’s class,” 

“James,” His mother spoke in warning, but was ignored.

“She’s filling your head with delusion. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was mentally ill as well.”

“James,”

Dexter shifted uncomfortably in his seat from cheek to cheek. Daisy watched curiously as she ate, filling her mouth with an amount of bread beyond what any small child should consume at once. 

“But I don’t love her class. I thought-”

“That isn’t important, this woman is filling you head with... fantasy. You’ll only raise your expectation beyond your capabilities.” James argued, focusing solely on his son. For once, his mother did too, not watching Daisy eat all of their appetizer. 

“If you love the class so much, perhaps you could simply request a different professor next semester?” Katrina suggested, trying to be the mediator in the family. “Whatever Sharp is telling you isn’t true, and you know better than to lie, right?”

“Mother please, Professor Sharp is the worst in her subject. You wanted me to not have a good education.”

His mother sighed and rubbed her temple, looking exhausted. No one noticed, but Daisy suddenly stopped eating.

“It’s ‘best’, Dexter, and yes I do want you to have-”

Daisy interrupted the conversation, slamming her hands on the table. James was about to scold her for being indecent, but then noticed that something was wrong. The three of them all turned their attention to Daisy, her little, plump face was turning blue and her small hands pulled at her throat. His little sister was chocking.

“Daisy!” The three of them shouted simultaneously, hopping out of the booth and surrounding her. 

“It’s the bread!” His mother said in panic, pushing the girl out from her booster seat.

“Obviously, do something!” His father demanded, looking frightened and unsure of what to do. Katrina wrapped her arms around Daisy’s stomach and started to squeeze her, having no effect. Daisy started to become worse, and looked as if she was about to black out. The staff were on their way to help, but Dexter acted first. If she passes out while chocking, it’s very likely she’ll die before an ambulance arrives.

Pulling Day from his mother’s hands he positioned the thumb of his fist slightly over her bellybutton, grasped his fist with his other hand, and thrust multiple times. It took several attempts, but after about twenty seconds of trying, a wad of soggy bread fell onto the ground. Daisy gasped for air and coughed horribly. Dexter let out the largest breath of air ever in relief. 

“Daisy!” His mother said joyously, wrapping her arms around her daughter loosely to allow her room to breath. His father kneeled down and hugged the both of them. Families and groups around them cheered, all apparently having witnessed the scene and had been just as worried.

Standing from the floor, Katrina lifted Daisy up on her hip, and his father stood by his side. He placed a hand on Dexter’s shoulder and stared at him for a moment, then pulled him into a hug.

“Thank you for saving your sister.” He murmured into his son’s shoulder. “You knew what to do when I didn’t, perhaps you have more abilities than I thought.” Dexter had the largest smile on his face because he was certain that was the closest his father has ever came to complimenting him. “You can stay in your class. Although maybe you should be a doctor.”

Dexter chuckled lightly, “Yes, I’d still like to be a teacher.” He lied.

Their meal was free that night, and apparently for the next year as well. They were all still a bit shaken however, so they had their dinner to go and went back to the hotel, and this time the invitation was extended to him as well. They sat together and watched the Hallmark specials until late in the night.

His parents still hadn't fully accepted him, but Dexter was patient and decided not to say anything. After all, they had promised to pay his tuition if he graduated, and he wasn’t about to pass up on that opportunity. He’d tell them one day, and now that day felt just a little closer.

His parents allowed him to spend the night over with them, having him share the bed with his little sister, no longer visibly upset about the two of them talking to or being with each other. If this was his late Christmas gift, it was the best they had ever given him.

His family flew home the next morning.

.

.

Yep, hi.

Tag List:

@noneed4thistbh @romanasanders @fuckingemoace @bunny222 @sea-blue-child @astraastro@helloitstimetofight @blue-wolfbane @applecannibal @ryuity @anxiouslyfred @i-identify-as-a-mango @shadowjag @scorching-scotch @cyberpunkjinx @im-so-infinitesimal @witch197 @sparkly-rainbow-salt @calvindientesblancos

#sanders sides #deceit sanders #deciet sanders #ts deceit #sympathetic deceit #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #sanders sides deceit #sanders sides virgil #sanders sides logan #sanders sides patton #logicality #prinxiety #princiety #speech impediment #platonic dlamp

[that-terrible-writer]

You Never Know

I write stories out by hand but the moment I type them out (because I love making more work for myself), they go in a completely different direction then what I originally wrote.

Part 5

Part 1 2 3 4 

| Steve Harrington x Reader |

Requested: ‘I HOPE YOU WRITE MORE FOR YOU NEVER KNOW I LOVEEEEEE IT’

‘please please please continue with You never know, i love ittt !!’

You had missed your first period and partly your second. You had walked over three miles to school; you had taken a significant amount of time as you could with every step. You needed to think about what had happened between you and Steve. How you hated yourself on the way you reacted towards him. You didn't understand why you had run. It kept replaying in your head, everytime you shut your eyes to shake the thought of it; his sweet yet disappointed face was so vivid.

You dragged your feet when you entered the halls. Class was still in session for a good five more minutes; giving you a little bit more time to hate yourself. You let out a heavy sigh, resting your head against your locker. You couldn't face Steve. You embarrassed more than yourself: he must have felt humiliated. You've had done enough damage for the day and it wasn't even lunchtime. You were deep in your thoughts, you missed the bell ringing, that when you felt a hand being placed on your shoulder you had let out a shriek.

Your heart began racing, your heart in your throat; worrying that it was Steve and him wanting to talk about the incident. When you turned to face them, you let out a huge sigh of relief to see it was only Nancy and Jonathan before you. "Oh, thank God." You murmured, placing a hand over your heart to calm it back down.

"Y/N, where have you been?" Nancy questioned, "You missed history and Spanish." You shut your eyes, shaking your head a little. You let out a small laugh, turning to your locker to open it.

"About that," You let out, grabbing your anatomy textbook, "I woke up late. My dad had already left for work so I had to walk."

"Walk?" Jonathan asked, scratching his cheek as he was baffled at your statement, "Your house is six miles away from school." You rubbed your nosed, trying to cover up the fact that you were nervous to tell them the truth.

"Do you think that coach will let me sit out during PE?" You played. You felt the slightest tug on the sweater you were wearing: Steve's sweater. You didn't turn around. Your nerves came back as your body had stiffened at the touch.

"This isn't your sweater," Nancy noted. She rubbed more of the sweater between her fingers.

"Good eyes, Nancy Drew," You interjected, trying to play coy but would she buy it?

"It's Steve's." She didn't. You hid your head in your locker like an ostrich hiding their head in the dirt for when they nest.

"Uh, yeah." Your voice shook, trying to remain cool but you were cracking very easily, "I was at his place, last night, working on a project for anatomy and had spilled some juice on my shirt. So, he let me change into one of his sweaters." You turned to face them to see them smiling at you. You were frightened. Were they going to react the same way as your mom did? What would happen if Steve overheard you three? It would just make the awkwardness between you two even bigger.

"You can relax, Y/N," Jonathan chuckled, waving his hand in front of you, "Will told us that you know about Eleven and the upside down. He told us when he came home this morning." You let out a huge sigh, your body loosening up as they only knew part of the truth. You paused, furrowing your eyebrows together.

"Wait," Your gazed went from between Jonathan to Nancy a few times, "Why were you two together this morning? You live quite far from each other." Nancy and Jonathan looked at each other sheepishly, which connected everything together. Before you could point your finger at them, Nancy pointed hers at you first.

"This doesn't explain why you have Steve's sweater on!" Nancy yelled. You quickly tried to shush her, trying to not grab other people's unwanted attention.

"Calm down!" You whispered towards her, "I don't want people to spread unwanted rumors." Nancy had peered more into you, wanting answers, "We slept over at your house. I was going to go home to change but Steve talked me into going with him to change at his house because it was closer to school."

"So, why didn't you come with Steve to school then?" Jonathan interrogated. You were debating to tell them about the predicament you had gotten yourself in with Steve. Before you could make that decision, the hallway began to spin. A pair of arms had snaked their way around your waist. Catching you off guard, you let out a small scream. You began to panic a little, thinking it was Steve.

Once the room went back together, the person had placed you back on your feet and spun you to face them. Your heart went back to normal, immediately, when you saw it was only Billy. You smacked Billy's chest, getting a chuckle out of him, "Billy, you scared the shit out of me!" You complained.

"Well, I'm just happy to see you." Billy hummed, leaning against the lockers. "Why are you so late?" His expression changed. He looked you up and down; his eyes stopping at the sweater. He inhaled a deep breath, his body had tensed as he pressed his lips together. It made you feel a bit uneasy, sending a chill down your spine, was it really that upsetting to be wearing Steve's sweater? You weren't even official yet.

"Eye doctor appointment." You lied once again. You rearranged your books that were gathered in your arms. You tucked some strains of hair behind your ear, "Just that annual checkup. Good news, not blind. Bad news, still need glasses."

Billy's hand reached over to touch your cheek, smiling at your, "That's good, you'll still be cute with or without glasses." He spoke. He hung his head down, laughing to himself: disturbing you. "Because, Y/N, if you were lying to me right now that wouldn't be a very good idea."

Your heart sank, you quickly turn to Jonathan and Nancy. They looked panicked as well. You faced back to Billy, who kept refusing to look at you, "Why would you think I was lying?" His hand moved down, away from your cheek to grab a fistful of the sweater. Your breath was getting shorter, your heart racing and your eyes widening. Billy gave the sweater a small tug causing you to stumble a little.

"After seeing you with Steve last night at the Wheeler's, then not seeing you this morning plus Steve being late; it didn't sit well with me, Y/N," Billy explained, his gazed returned to lock onto yours. His face had darkened, a scowl replaced his smile or even his devilish smirk, "Are you hiding something from me?"

You could feel your palms sweating, trying to find words to explain yourself but they weren't coming out at all. The longer you were holding off to give Billy any kind of an explanation, you could feel his grip on the sweater become more forceful. You could see that Billy was becoming more impatient, growing more irritated with you. He yanked you so that you were face to face, Jonathan tried to intervene but Billy pointed at Jonathan, stopping him in his step, with his other hand, "Back off, freak." He snarled. Billy's eyes never left yours; just staring into your soul, "Answer me, Y/N, did you or did not fuck Harrington?"

"No!" You quickly said but it earned another tug from Billy. You shut your eyes, holding your books closer to your chest, "I swear I didn't."

"Don't lie to me!" Billy screamed, pressing you up against the lockers,  "I will find out, Y/N, so you just should come clean now." You felt Billy's grasp leave you, feeling someone near you; feeling protected. You opened your eyes to see that Steve had pushed you behind him to face Billy.

"Didn't your mother teach you some kind of manners on how to speak to girls?" Steve asked, his tone was stern as you could tell from his face that he was clearly pissed off. Billy let out a bigger laugh, one that was getting the attention out of everyone in the school. Steve stood his ground, his arm blocking you so that Billy couldn't try and grab you.

"You're the one to talk, Harrington." Billy spat back, he looked over Steve's shoulder to stare at you, "To not fuck what isn't yours." It pushed Steve's buttons, made his blood boil. Steve rushed up to grab Billy shirt, bringing him closer.

"Y/N isn't yours." Steve corrected him. Steve shook Billy a bit, "We didn't have sex. She was telling you the truth and to be honest here, you don't deserve a girl like her."

"Well, that isn't your call to make," Billy chuckled, that smirk returning to his lips. He shoved Steve away, walking past you; sending you one last wink before heading off to class. Steve turned to look down at you, the moment he tried to reach out to comfort you: you back away a little.

You tried to shake off the feeling of uneasiness, you have never been that afraid of someone in your entire life. You stared at Steve, with eyes that were on the brink of tears. You couldn't find your words again. Instead, you pushed past Nancy and Jonathan running down the hall. You entered the girl's bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror to see that the tears already started to drop. Your lip quivered, your hands trembling as the fear finally took over.

The door slammed opened, seeing that Steve had entered; not caring if anyone else was in or seeing him enter. Everyone at that school saw what had happened, so they understood why Steve went in to follow you. He rushed over to you, brushing your hair out of your face, shushing you to try and calm down, "Hey, hey. It's over, you're fine." He whispered to you. He pressed his forehead against yours. You closed your eyes to concentrate on his words but more importantly: his voice. "I got you. I always got you."

You dropped your books to the floor, clutching onto his shirt to just bury your face into his chest. His arms wrapped around you, letting you cry all you wanted, whatever you needed; he wanted to be the one that you went to. He wanted to be the one to protect you.

Tagged: @sociallyimpairedme @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @innocent-moon-bean @with-a-hint-of-pesto-aiolii @jellynovaart @oldwanderingsoul @bellamy-fuck @sarcasticvodka @writerunhuman @bisexualscully @quoirez @thinemineours @airforcecollins 

*thinemineours, quoirez & airforcecollins for some reason, no matter how man times I typed out your names (even checking through tumblr that I spelled it correctly), it won’t pop up when I tried to add you. I will keep trying to figure it out. So sorry!

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #Stranger Things #billy hargrove

[justinsearchofparadise]

Ferry thoughts

                                            Part 1

      I’ve been dealing with the thought of having such a life. One of fortune, love, family, and the basics that would make me happy. So when i compare that fairy tale to the life i’m currently living in, depression and the like start to sink in. At the time of writing this, whatever this is, i’m surrounded by many people with many backgrounds, goals, and struggles. I can only imagine what the lady across from me is going through being so young with a child to take care of. How about the lady who is sitting right next to her with such a foretelling facial expression that it makes you feel her pain. Not everyone on this ferry is suffering, or at least at the surface. The couple sitting to the right of me look so happy and you can feel the love emitting from their conversation and the deep stares they give each other is so enduring and resonates with what i want in my lifetime, at least i think i do. Pulling a book from my backpack got a couple of stares but following that up with a laptop captured the curiosity with some of the passengers. The truth is, that attention is nice. It fills a void that I did not know was there or hadn’t had the courage to acknowledge it. As everyone begins to move to the front of the ferry to depart, i’m left wondering: Do all of these people have a pure sense of happiness? If so, how? How?

      Departing from the boat I was stumped with what the hell I was even doing in the city. I usually come to the city with a few friends to explore new places or cool events but today… I have no tangible reason for making the trip over here. After about 15 minutes of walking by the pier I decided on planting myself by this sort of offshore pier. I saw this oddball pier and figured I could sit and ponder all of the questions I ever had in my life. Then again I could just write about my current struggles. I guess i’ll go with the second option.

      Typing characters into a keyboard could look so insignificant to the naked eye but in this moment I feel like it’s saving me from insanity. That might be hyperbole but let me not scare off the reader too quick; Then again, I doubt anyone is willing to make it pass the introduction of some random persons culmination of thoughts but for whoever is, thank you. I have less than 3 hours of battery to write down my current state of mind, i correct myself, unscramble my blotched state of mind so let’s get started.

       I was not sure whether to start from the beginning of the problem or jump to the current year so in my attempt to make a logical read i’ll start off with the very beginning of the “problem”.

                                                        Part 2

      A few months ago, in April I believe, I had asked my sister if she would take me to Barnes and Nobles to buy a book. She agreed on the condition that I would buy her Starbuck’s from the cafe` which was conveniently located inside the store. Having the deepest urge to find a book I agreed to her conditions and we were on our way. Upon arrival of Barnes and Nobles I began to think “ Ok, you don’t have an allotted amount of time to pick a book but you do have an entourage of a hungry sister and an infant nephew so to make everyone’s life easier try not to spend more than an hour staring at comics” and with that preconceived notion I set off on the epic odyssey which was finding at least one educational book and not blow all of my money on comics. I began on the upper level of the store. Stepping off the escalator I was given the choice that would define me, at least for the weeks that followed. In my rational decision making I went to the Anatomy and Physiology section because at the time I had a somewhat deep yet irrational interest on becoming a doctor. Looking upon the surprising small collection of novels and journals I decided to Google ‘best medical books for aspiring doctors 2016’ and went from there. The page loaded with a preset of top medical novels that appeared in place of a web link. Scrolling through the options I came across one novel “Being Mortal” written by Atul Guwande. The reviews of the book heavily praised the author and her works and upon finding the actual book in the shelfs I was intrigued by the accolades it had achieved such as becoming a ‘New York Times bestseller’ or the praise from respected publishers and critics such as the Boston Globe or The Wall Street Journal. Having read the reviews and amazed by the accolades of Atul Guwande I decided. That was going to be the educational book I buy today. It was fitting to my interests and could possibly be the start to a life of medical journals and reads. Looking back on that decision i’m amazed at how much a person can change in a matter of months without realizing that change is even happening. On my way down the escalator I glanced over at my sister and nephew and saw that they were having a good time fiddling with the toys and puzzles in the games department so I figured, hey, I probably have enough time to look in another section. Since I had my educational buy checked off the list I decided to take a chance and look into one of my other interest: Investing. Mind you, I had no real knowledge of investing but I had formulated some idea as to the topic so why not look into it? The economics section was conveniently located at the bottom of the escalator a little to the left. Face to face with a plethora of investment books I was caught off guard and presented with the question “ Where the hell do i go from here”. “ How the hell do I find the book for me?” So once again my trusty sidekick came into play: Google. Following the same thought process I searched ‘Top investment books 2016’ and once again encountered a list in place of a weblink. From the list I searched for the most appealing book which ironically enough was a book called “ A Walk Down Wall Street” by Burton Malkiel. To my convenience the book was on the top shelf with a label over its category which had the words ‘best investment books’. Having read the special label sealed the deal and I would be walking out with two books that day. Fast forward 10 minutes of line waiting and paying the books I would find myself presented with what i would soon dread and be driven to the brink of depression… the settlement money.

                                                       Part 3

      It has been a couple of hours since I decided to start this, this piece on what goes through my mind on a daily basis. Since the original ferry ride I have had a couple hours to find and recollect my thoughts into a viable piece of writing. At Least I think I have. If you have made it to this portion of the convoluted  tangent known as my “Ferry Thoughts” then I must congratulate you and welcome you. Welcome you into what will be the open book known as the life of R. In this collection of thoughts you will see my transformation of a child bound my struggle and solitude into.. Into… well, i’m not entirely sure but hey, at least i won’t be alone for this journey. Time to dilute from this tangent and onto the big concern.

      Having purchased the books and convened with my sister we were set to go home. It was a short walk to the car but had one that would stick with me for months. My sister had told me to go in the back so that the baby wouldn’t be alone and also as a cautious measure so I did just that. I opened the back seat and everybody else was also set to go. Sitting in the car ready to take off my sister suddenly turned the car off. She turned around and said “ I’m going to tell you something right now that does not leave this car. Do you understand?” I replied with a soft “ Yes”. She then goes on to spur the following lines “On your eighteenth birthday your world is going to flipped upside down”. Mind you, at this point in time i’m ready to hear an array of things ranging from “ You’re adopted and mom was going to tell you on you eighteenth birthday” all the way to the worst possible scenarios, “ The Phantom of the Opera has had its last run on Broadway last week and you’ll never be able to see it in person ever again”. To my surmise it was gladly none of those things. She said “ On your eighteenth birthday you are going to come into a great sum of money”. My mind began to drift. A great sum of money? Too a person like me anyone amount that could pay for rent or food for the week was more than enough. “You’re gonna get X thousand dollars, tax exempt dollars” she continued saying “This conversation doesn’t leave the car, do you understand?”. For the brief seconds that followed what she had just told me, I was dazed. Can you imagine what it felt like to hear those words come out of her mouth? Can you imagine the flurry of questions and emotions that rushed into my mind in those brief seconds? Well neither could I. I didn’t want to think about what she said. I did not want those words to be any more true than hearing that you’re going to be changed forever because of something that is completely out of your control. What most people might think after reading the aforementioned lines is “Are you kidding? If you don’t want that money give it to me!” or maybe something like “You are so ungrateful and you don’t deserve that money”. Well do you want to know something? I would be the most jubilant person in the small world that I know if it weren’t for the baggage that came with the money or the significance to the reason I’m getting that money.

                                                       Part 4

      Let me preface the following section by saying life was bittersweet up to this point in my life. I knew how it felt to feel the love of family, the support of friends, the courtesy of having a flawed yet caring relationship. I also knew how it felt to feel like I wasn’t good enough to be loved, having to live with family for 3 months and sleep on a couch that was 1 foot shorter than me in length with a dog right by side, cry in a room full of mold and hope that children would know none of this even in the slightest bit. I know how it feels to try to fill a void in the heart that can never be filled no matter how hard you try or how many times it kills you to know that one of the most integral family member won’t be in your life because of someone else’s foolishness. So yeah, life can suck. Life can make you steal a book from a school fair and get caught with your explanation being a simple yet intrinsic one “my mother couldn’t afford to give me a few dollars for this book and I wanted this book so bad that I just had to take it, I know it’s bad to steal but I wanted the book so bad i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry”. When stealing a book in the second grade starts your reputation in school, you just know life is gonna be great. Ya know?

      I was born into a family of immigrants trying to get a better life. Hurt souls looking for solace in the country of the “Free”. My family was small. It consisted of hard working father, a loving mother, a young sister, and an infant baby. You would figure that this is the ideal family to have, a father, a mother, and a boy and a girl. It fit the template of what a family should be. Life didn’t think the same way. The infant was born in the cold month of December. The first picture of the infant would be one that included everyone of his immediate family. Sister to the left, mother on right of my sister, father on the right end, and me being held in my father’s arms. This picture would be the only picture of all four of us in a state of pure joy. One year after the picture was taken, life struck for the first time. From my recollection of documents and talks with my mother the following is what happened on the night 3 months before my 1st birthday. My father was coming home from work. It was late at night as he was a chef and restaurant hours are long and demanding. On my father’s usual route through the expressway he experienced some car trouble. Pulling over to the side right before his usual exit at Glen St. he got out of the car and began looking for the problem. The following part is going be passed over because I am still unclear as to how exactly the accident happened but here goes a flawed version. While my father was looking for the problem I presume one that involved the engine of his car, a drunk driver struck him. Let me correct that last part, the drunk driver “blunted” my father according to the official death certificate. That’s right. My father was in my life for the time span of almost one entire year before the forces that control this thing called life, decided it was his time to go. The following months were filled with immense pain and suffering for my mother, sister, and family. When it was time to bury my father the family had decided to bring his body to Mexico because his mother was living there. Passing through the years I felt weird. I noticed that all the kids in my class had a mom and dad at their side. I would ask myself “where is my dad?”. Growing up without a father is one thing, coming to age and actually learning what the word “Death” entailed is a whole other ballpark. Around the age of 14 or 15 I had come to terms with the death of my father, at least I believed that I had. The years that followed my fifteenth birthday were pretty awesome. I had made friends with really cool people which was a tough thing for me to do as I always switching schools because my mother could not keep up with rent at times so it was hard to find friends with the knowledge that the friendship might only last 4 months. My body was changing and I was no longer that stubby fat kid, I was that good looking fit kid. My first relationship began with a girl from another school; I got my sense of what a kiss felt like! My family was finally stable in a beautiful house, one that I still miss very much. Life had finally given me the chance to hit a home run and enjoy it. Fast forward to my Junior year of high school, life was… a bitch. I had refrained from using profanity due to the lack of true emotion that it carries but for the following I simply can’t explain it without being profane. Life had decided to place me in a shit hole situation for a good while. My mother and I had to move from an apartment complex that in hindsight was truly the epitome of a shitty home. Having spent my final days in the shit hole with knowledge that we were going to end up moving into my aunt’s home which had 1 room. Including us the home would carry 4 people. To add to the list of bad things I found out that my mother had experienced a form of sexual assault from the landlord, that he had put his hand on her back and began moving down in which my mother did what she could to kick him out of the house. Ha, imagine having to look at that the same exact man for the following week as he had to make sure the apartment was in good condition. I can’t explain the pain I felt when my mother tried to explain what had happened to her and how she did not want to burden me with the knowledge of that but she was at a breaking point. So was I. On the last night that we slept in that apartment I woke up in the middle of the night crying. Holding in the noise of me crying because my mother was in the bed next to me, I got on my knees and looked out the window at the full daunting moon. In that moment I felt hate and anger for all the bad things that happened in my life. I called out to god in search of an explanation and clamored in my mind the deepest questions I had hidden in my heart: Why did you take him away? Why are you letting all this bullshit happen in my life? Do I deserve to see my mother cry and yearn for help? Why are you not answering. The following morning the apartment was clean and my mother and I would be gone from that hell hole into a tightly packed home. My mother and I spent the following months living with my aunt in which I slept on a couch in the living room and my mother on an inflatable mattress in the small room alongside my aunt and her daughter. During these months I began doing academically well and started to block out many things. I tried to stay out of the house and began hanging out with friends much more often. I decided to knock out my community service hours just so I could have a place to go other than the house. Now I may have skewed from the main topic but it all connects in one way or another. After those months living with my aunt my philosophy on life was different. I knew that in order to not have my kids go through something like this, i would have to work my ass off and look for a path that could make me wealthy. Not financially stable, wealthy. Careers that began with a high salary that would only continue to grow was a must for me. Finally, I concluded that becoming a doctor would free me from this life. In hindsight I was making goals on such a flawed basis.

                                                         Part 5

      It’s senior year and graduation is right around the corner. I am still stuck in the same flawed mentality of getting a career where I can make great income with no regard to whether or not the career I pick actually contributes something good to the community. This is where things take a turn. I ask my sister if she can take me to Barnes and Nobles. Now we’ve come full circle. You know what i’m entitled to and you know the baggage surrounding that entitlement. Time to bring you up to date on what my thoughts are on that entitlement.

      I’ve decided to block out what the money meant and the meaning behind it for months. Time is catching up and I set in a position where I either acknowledge the meaning behind the money or I wait until I have the money and completely brake both physically and mentally. To those that took the time to read this entire piece I want to say thank you. Writing this has lifted a weight off my shoulders. It allowed me to express so many repressed feelings and just be happy for a moment. This piece might never be read or maybe it has the intended effect in which it brings curiosity to the reader as to how I go about the months following the birthday and how my life can change for the better, or for the worst. Time will tell I guess. Once again, thank you for showing your interest into the life of a complete stranger. If you read this entire thing I guess i’m not that much of a stranger anymore. Still, there is so much more I want to share and so much that I want to learn from the many lives I will encounter and the memories that will be made.

                                         Oh and one more thing;

                                               Save the bees.

                                                       -R

#my life #get lost #happiness #sadness #loss #share #save the bees #r #commentback #keep going #crazy #amature #confession #inspire #writer #writing #story #moment #author #spilled ink #spilled thoughts

[talesofzero]

Happy Birthday Gen!!

@genesisnx Here’s a drabble about Harpy Manabu and Naga Bulge for u. You’re precious and I hope you have a good birthday. 

And now I just want to write GR things. (EDIT: I accidentally hit post instead of queue so you get it early because I’m dumb!!)

Something blocked out the sun overhead. The shadow cast onto me moved like some furious swarm, warped and ever-changing. I should have hidden automatically at a sight like that, considering how close I was to bird territory, but curiosity led my gaze up just in time to see whatever it was getting closer.

Again, I should have moved, but it was still moving in a flurry, and the nearing cries of “no, no, no!” made me raise a brow as I squinted through the treetops. It hit the balcony with a crash and a cry, and by that point, I could tell it was small. It fit easily in my arms when I reached out to catch it. A hail of drifting feathers followed like an odd snowstorm.

Its own feathers were ruffled, sticking out every which-way. And its – or rather his – eyes were wide and dazed.

“Are you alright?” I asked.

“Uh,” he answered, blinking a few times. He was the oddest bird I’d ever seen. Couldn’t have been more than seven years-old and tiny as anything. His ruffled hair was the same brown as his eyes, but his wings were a shimmering green. They were also thin and sharp like blades. Around his throat was a ruff of blue feathers which looked puffy and soft.

Finally, his eyes found mine. He looked as though he’d just noticed me there. “Can you stand?” I asked.

“I think so,” he said.

I settled him down on his taloned feet, which seemed much too big for him, and he leaned his weight between them as a test. “Yeah,” he decided. “I’m okay.”

“That’s good.”

He looked back toward me, still puzzled. He was just tall enough to reach my hip, though he was quick to trail his eyes down, following my tail all the way to its tip. “Oh, you’re a snake,” he said.

“We prefer Naga.”

His eyes were wide again as they returned to mine. “Are you going to eat me?”

“No.”

“Oh, okay. I’m Manabu Yuuki.” All anxieties gone, he stuck out his hand with a big grin. One of his teeth was missing, but I assumed that had happened before the fall. He must have hit his head pretty hard though.

Out of politeness, I took his small hand in mine and shook. “My name is Schwanhelt Bulge.”

A moment’s confusion crossed through his eyes as he tried to make sense of my name, but he shook it off. “Nice to meet you!”

“Yes, it’s a pleasure, but what are you doing down here? Ground-level isn’t safe for young birds. Did you fall?”

Well, clearly he’d fallen, but he was quick to shake his head. “No, I meant to come down here,” he lied, crossing his arms. They were littered with cuts from the branches overhead, like his cheeks. “Where is your shirt?” he asked to divert the conversation.

“I don’t usually wear shirts in the summer.”

“Why?”

“I’m cold blooded, so I’m plenty warm if the sun is out.” Plus, I couldn’t afford them.

“I bet you never wear pants.”

“That would be correct.”

He started giggling, and I couldn’t help but smile along. He seemed good-natured, even if he was likely also trouble. He was lucky I’d been the one to find him and not some of the others of my kind. The wolves and cats down here could be trouble as well.

“Where are you off to, Manabu?” I asked, hoping to speed him along.

“Oh!” His eyes darted off to their corners. It was all too obvious I’d caught him in his lie. “I was just going back home.”

“Then you should be getting back. It won’t be light out much longer, and trouble always comes out at night.”

“Right, I can fly back!”

I wasn’t so sure, but his wings shot up from his side. At least, one of them did. The other seemed to catch, bent at an odd angle. Manabu made a strangled sound, and his eyes rolled back behind fluttering lids. I had to swoop down to catch him before he could fall to his knees.

“Manabu,” I called. “Can you hear me?”

His head lolled for a moment as he struggled to pull his chin up. “M’okay, Swan,” he mumbled, near incoherence. “Hurts…”

I wasn’t sure why I always put myself in these situations, but with a sigh, I picked him back up like a fragile piece of glass. “Climb on my back,” I said, worried about putting any pressure on his wings. “And stay awake.”

Of course, as soon as he had his arms around my neck, he rested his forehead against my shoulder.

“No falling asleep,” I said. “I need you to show me where you live.”

A trembling hand reached out, pointing up above the trees toward the cliff-side that hung over the forest.  “There,” he said.

Why…why did I always put myself in these situations?

The bottom of the cliff wasn’t far off. In fact, I made my home there in a cozy alcove. I’d seen the shadows of birds flying overhead before, but I’d always imagined them living in the trees. I thought of the caves as safer, more troublesome for the birds to reach. If I survived this, I would need to look into a change in address.

“Do you know where your home is from here?” I asked once we’d reached the cliff side

He squinted at the sky with a hum. “Yeah, up there where the rocks poke out.”

It was twice as high as the treetops. I was going to die. With a deep breath, I released his legs and reached up for the towering wall. At the same time, I brought my tail up and curled it around his middle.

“Do you squeeze people to death?” he asked.

“No.”

“Do you bite people to death?”

“No. I don’t kill people.”

“Oh. Daddy does.”

That made my hands freeze against the rocks. “Why’s that?”

“It’s his job. He’s uh captain.”

He must have been part of the Guard for the area. They were supposed to be neutral, only killing when necessary, so I hoped he would recognize me as harmless. Then again…

“Would your father be able to carry you back home?” I asked, though I began climbing anyway.

“Yeah, he’s real strong, but he won’t get home ‘til night. Big brother gets home late too. Mom was out getting dinner.”

“So there was no one around when you tried to fly off?”

“No,” he said, only to catch himself. “I wasn’t flyin’ off!”

Scolding him wasn’t my job, so I let it go. I had to focus on climbing anyway. Despite my upper body strength, climbing was one of those rare occasions where legs would have come in handy. My tail was too wide to rest on any small ledges, so I was left to dangle.

Not even a fourth of the way up, my arms were already burning. Letting go wasn’t an option, though. I was just going to have to suck it up.

“You’re very strong,” Manabu called.  

“I do my best,” I said.

“We’re getting up.”

“Yep.” Edges on rocks bit at my fingers, and my sweaty palms made the dirt cling. I was sure I wouldn’t be able to move for days after this. I also wasn’t too sure how I was going to get down.

“Are you afraid of heights?” Manabu asked.

“I’m not used to going much higher than the trees, so I’m not sure,” I answered through gritted teeth. “Are you?”

He laughed at that. “I like being up high. I almost never touch the ground.”

Of course, stupid question. But that didn’t explain why he trusted me so much. If I fell, he did too. He should have been more concerned about that, but at least one of us had faith in me.

As I dragged myself up one ledge, I found it wider than the rest, though not by much. Still, I let out a sigh of relief and took a moment to rest my weight on it. Though Manabu still hung over the edge in my grasp, he didn’t seem to mind. He kicked his feet as I dusted off my hands.

“How’s your wing?” I asked.

“It’s fine.” He ran his hands down my scales, refusing to look up at me. He really was a terrible liar.

“How is it really?” I pressed.

He puffed his cheeks. “It kinda hurts when you move, but it’s okay if I don’t move it. It’s fine.”

I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign. Bird anatomy wasn’t a strong suit of mine. “It sounds like it’ll heal fine,” I said anyway.

He nodded, and I returned to the wall in front of me. Manabu continued to chatter as I climbed the rest of the way. My short answers didn’t put him off in the slightest.

“Your tail’s pretty,” he said as I neared our goal. “I didn’t know there were blue snakes. Blue’s my favorite color.”

I answered with a huff as the ledge cut into my gut. Once I’d dragged my top half up, my upper body was done moving, so I lay there and curled my tail up alongside me. I was careful to set him down on his knees before unfurling my tail.

“There-there,” he said, patting my back. “You made it!”

“Mm-hm,” I returned. The air up here was nice and cool, rolling over my back. I let my eyes fall shut until I felt Manabu kiss my cheek. He didn’t seem concerned by the startled look I gave him.

“Thank you,” he said. “Do you want some water? You can come inside.”

I peered around him to see a massive, round door at the mouth of the cave. Having a door must have been nice, probably kept the drafts out.

“I think you’d have to drag me inside,” I said with a weak laugh. “I’ll just lie here a minute. I’d appreciate the water though. Be careful of your wing.”

“I got it!” He popped up and rushed into his home. Such an odd little bird. I knew they weren’t all like that. The scars across my face proved it. He must not have been a predatory bird, didn’t have the wings for it, though he did have a good set of claws on those feet. He was a bit too fluffy looking to come off as threatening.

That was not the case for the guy who slammed down next to me. I saw his feet first, bigger than my head with talons sharp enough to take out my eyes with one quick movement. Pain and fatigue vanished from my mind as I shot up to face the new bird.

He was tall, as tall as I could be when I pulled up as much as my tail would allow. With my heart hammering and my vision narrowing, I could only see his burning blue eyes. “What are you doing here?” he snarled. “How did you get up here?”

My stammering didn’t help matters. “Manabu- I had to carry-”

“Manabu!?” he screeched. “Did you touch my brother!? I’ll kill you!” His wings shot out, massive compared to Manabu’s. Those were true predator wings. He had none of the fluff Manabu did. With one strong flap of his wings, he was off the ground, his talons out in front of him.

My only thought was to get away. He was prepared to gut me. Tossing all my weight to the side, I was quick to realize my mistake when the ground dropped out from beneath me.

I heard a howl from Manabu, a loud, terrified scream of “No!” He was the last thing I saw before dropping off the edge. He stood in the doorway clutching a glass of water with his eyes wide.

I knew this was a bad idea.

There was nothing to catch my fall but the ground, so I shut my eyes and waited for it. My back did slam into something, along with the spine of my tail. It did hurt but just enough to bruise. The thundering roar of flapping wings surrounded me, and I opened my eyes into slits.

A man with calm eyes and sleek black wings held me. His hair was much like Manabu’s, the same curls of brown, but his jaw was firm, his shoulders wide. Had he not looked so relaxed, he would have been more terrifying than Manabu’s brother. His neck also had a ruffle of feathers, but they were a bloody red and smoothed down.

“Are you alright?” he asked as he settled into a landing.

“Yes?” I croaked.

“Swan!” Manabu called from up above. He sounded terrified. “Are you okay? Big brother, you almost killed him!”

The brother said something that I couldn’t hear, but it was clearly a bad call because Manabu started yelling at him.

“Boys,” the man sighed. He turned back to me with a weary smile. “My apologies. Mamoru can be testy. My name is Wataru Yuuki.”

“I-I’m Schwanhelt Bulge,” I said.

“May I ask what you were doing at my home? Actually, more importantly, how did you get up there?”

“I climbed. I had to get Manabu back up.”

“Back up?” Wataru frowned. Without asking if I was prepared or alright with it, he bent his knees and flexed his wings.

“Wait-” I began, but he shot up into the sky. He must have been as strong as he looked to be able to carry me. With the weight of my tail, I was heavier than any creature with two legs.

Still, he settled us back on the ledge as though he’d been carrying a child. The boys silenced at his arrival. “Manabu, what happened?” he asked. “Are you alright?”

Manabu must have forgiven his brother because he was quick to hide behind him. “M’okay,” he mumbled. “I just fell.”

“You fell!?” his father and brother echoed.

The brother, who must have been testy Mamoru, looked little like either of them. His wings were more like his father’s, stained dark unlike his neat blond hair. The feathers of his throat were red like Wataru’s but flat and shimmering like Manabu’s wings. Mamoru and Wataru wore the same navy uniform, with the crest of the Guard, but Mamoru must have been about my age, somewhere in his late teens.

Manabu hid farther behind him, burying his face in his brother’s slacks. It was clear from the anxious yet firm look in Wataru’s eyes that he wouldn’t allow Manabu to hide anything from him. “You’re home early,” Manabu mumbled.

“Sir, could you put me down?” I asked as he tried to bore a hole in his sons to figure out what was wrong.

“Oh, certainly. Let’s go inside for this.”

That wasn’t what I meant, but who was I to argue with the man whose feet could crush my skull with ease?

The inside of the Yuuki home must have been through some portal because it looked nothing like a cave. Everything was decorated and smooth. It was cozy. Wataru set me down to lie across their couch. I was far from fitting.

I was starting to understand where Manabu got his socializing habits from because Wataru didn’t seem too concerned about me. Though he had little explanation as to why I was there, he seemed to trust me. With his back to me, he knelt in front of his smaller son. “Alright, Manabu, I want an explanation. We should get this sorted before your mother gets home. You know she’ll be upset.”

“I tried to fly,” Manabu mumbled, still trying to hide behind his brother. “But I couldn’t.”

Wataru heaved a sigh. “So you fell?”

“Yeah. Swan caught me though.”

Wataru looked back at me with relief, but I had to speak up in case Manabu didn’t. “Check his wings,” I said. “The trees caught him first.”

Manabu shrunk back from his father’s hands, “Manabu,” Wataru warned. “Let me see your wings. Stretch them out.”

“I can’t,” Manabu whimpered. “It hurts.”

Wataru heaved a sigh. “Son, come here. Let me see.”

Manabu tiptoed over and turned so his father could prod at the thin wings. “Swan carried me back up,” Manabu said. “He’s very strong.”

“He must be,” Wataru said. “We’re very grateful to him. We weren’t expecting to come home early, so it’s good to know that he was willing to go out of his way to take care of you.”

“It was nothing,” I attempted.

Wataru threw me a smile over his shoulder. “No need to be modest. You really saved him. There’s definitely at least a fracture, so we’ll have to take him to a doctor.”

“Can Swan come?” Manabu asked.

“Swan has his own things to get back to,” Wataru said.

He seemed to want me to back him up on that, but I had nothing for him. “I, uh, I do need to find some food.”

Wataru blinked. “You don’t have a job?”

Scavengers like myself were a rare breed now. Most had converted to the human system with jobs and stores. “Few are willing to hire Naga, sir,” I said.

“Well, you’ve got the formalities down, so you can join my platoon if you’d like.”

“What?” Mamoru squawked. “Dad, he can’t possibly-”

“He save Manabu’s life. We owe him. Besides, he’s shown himself to be selfless. He would make a fantastic addition to the platoon once we train him. Of course, it’s up to you, Bulge.”

I didn’t feel like I had a choice. Saying no to him seemed impossible, not that I ever would have. The Guard was the elite, the most loved group in the forest. I sealed my fate with a nod.

Mamoru was trouble, but he grew on me. I wasn’t sure if I ever grew on him. Manabu was bigger trouble, always trouble. He only got worse as he grew, but it was impossible not to adore him. He always demanded attention with the brightest smile. Like his father, it was impossible to say no to him.

I wasn’t sure why I tried.

When Wataru slammed down outside my cave and said I was coming to Manabu’s 18th birthday, I should have known better than to suggest I needed to get ready first. Wataru scooped me up in his arms against my protests and shot back up toward their ledge. My stomach found my throat.

“Please stop doing that so fast, Captain,” I wheezed as he set me back down. “One of these days, I’m going to puke.”

“Don’t get sick. There’s cake.” He was kind enough to straighten my uniform. I hadn’t gotten the chance to change since getting home, but it was one of the only shirts to fit me well. The rest were hand-me-downs from him.

“Isn’t there always cake?” I asked. “This is Manabu we’re talking about.”

Wataru cracked one of his rare grins. “I hope you’ve gotten to like sugar water.”

“Then I really will puke.”

Inside was filled with the warm, sweet smell of baked goods. Manabu’s hummingbird mother greeted me with her wings buzzing. “Bulge!” she cooed. “So glad you could make it.”

“Swan is here?” Manabu called from the hallway. I heard the click of his talons and the buzz of his wings before he crashed into the doorframe, his eyes bright as usual. “Swan!”

He’d never grown out of the nickname. In fact, he may have thought it was my actual name. “Evening, Manabu,” I greeted. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you!” He didn’t appear to need more sugar, hovering in place thanks to his rapid wings, but he took the water his mother gave him, no doubt laced with sugar. I’d always wondered if the glass he’d fetched me when we first met was sugary as well.

“Calm down,” his mother said. “You’ll knock something over.”

Dropping to the floor, he blew bubbles in his water, his cheeks shaded pink.

Luckily for me, Wataru and Mamoru also ate meat, so there was something edible for me. Kanna actually had the skill to cook just about anything, even if she didn’t eat it. Manabu’s entire dinner was cake, his talons kicking under the table. I couldn’t quite sit like them, so I did without a chair, curling my tail up under me.

It was far from the first time they’d had me over for dinner. In fact, they tended to pull me up at least once a week. I’d never understood why they’d always been so kind to me. I owed them far more than they’d ever imagined they owed me.

It wasn’t until Mamoru pulled a gift wrapped in pretty blue paper from the coat closet that I recalled the small one back at my home. “Ahh, I left mine,” I hissed.

“We can go get it later,” Wataru said with a soft laugh. “That was my fault.”

Manabu seemed to vibrate as he opened the gift, his smile getting wider and wider. His wings started to flick. He was awfully cute.

When the paper fell away, it was the same navy coat that I wore. Wataru had talked over adding him to the platoon for the past few years. The captain always looked anxious at the idea, but it looked as though Manabu’s pleading had finally won out. My gift wouldn’t look like much in comparison. I’d never seen Manabu quite so happy.

“You’ll still have to complete training,” Wataru tried to say over all Manabu’s eager thank you’s. Manabu managed to quiet him by tackling him with a hug. Despite Wataru’s best attempts to look stern, he broke with a smile as he hugged his son in return.

“I helped talk him into it,” Mamoru said just to ensure Manabu would turn and hug him as well. “It’ll be good to have you on the team, little brother,” Mamoru hummed. He was such a softie when it came to his brother.

“Bulge did aid in your argument as well,” the captain said.

That was true, but… “Captain, you don’t need to-“

“Really!?” Manabu turned on me as though he saw stars. He started hovering again, and shot over to me.

I wasn’t sure what I expected, but it wasn’t a kiss. His lips met mine, sweet as all that sugar thrived on. I wasn’t usually one for sweets, but it was nice when it was him.

At least, it would have been nice had it not been in front of his whole family. Manabu broke away red-faced. He looked as startled as I did, his eyes wide. “Whoops,” he said airily.

“I’ll kill him,” Mamoru said.

“Mamoru, no,” Kanna scolded as she stepped forward the shield me. She was tiny standing in front of her son, but her presence was enough to wear him down.

Wataru was the one I really feared, but he blinked, looking as calm as ever. “Looks like you won’t need to go fetch that gift then,” he said. “Manabu already stole his present from you.”

Manabu’s face turned red as blood. “Dad, hush.”

“I believe I raised you to be polite and ask permission before invading someone’s personal space.”

Manabu buried his face in his hands. “Dad, no.”

I still felt like I’d taken a blow to the head. “Um…welcome to the platoon,” I offered. “It’ll be nice to have you with us.”

Manabu nodded. “Sorry about that.”

“Uh, it’s alright. I didn’t mind.” Wait, no, that wasn’t what I’d meant. Well, I did mean it, but…

I was sweating as all eyes turned on me. Manabu peered between his fingers curiously, Wataru looked like he was trying not to laugh, Kanna grinned, and Mamoru looked ready to tear my throat out.

Why did I always put myself in these situations?

#Galaxy Railways #genesisnx #Manabu fic #Mamoru fic #Wataru fic #bulge fic #Kanna fic #AU fic #I have a request to write some Bruce/Manabu so Imma do that soon

[ishomoogoo]

For His Amusement Ch1

this comes after Before the Fall. there are mentions of murder, blood, sex, and swearing but nothing explicit or detailed. i appreciate feedback, it helps me write better and my beta reader, DamiaOfLight, doesn’t catch everything. this has been posted on fanfiction and ao3 if you want to check it out there.

Blood, that’s all I see. Blood, then Dolarhyde, the Red fucking Dragon. For all his puffed up ambitions, all he amounted to was a busted up pile of flesh and blood. Fuck, am I shaking? Whose panting breaths are those? God, that was amazing! Where is Hannibal? I’m pretty sure we were fighting together. I slowly stand on wobbly legs and turn from the man we killed.

My god, we fucking killed together! I guess Hannibal finally got what he wanted after all. Well, after the sex of course. Couldn’t even enjoy the afterglow before Francis here barges in and goes on about his “becoming” and attacking us. Well, at least he waited for us to get dressed. Still an asshole though.

Still trying to get my breath under control, I look at Hannibal, my new lover and murder accomplice. He just looks at me, covered in blood, looking radiant and just a little smug, the bastard. He’s panting as well, but not as much, since I assume he had a little more time to compose himself. I stumble over to him and he catches me, his hands cradling my face like so many times before; my hands gripping his shoulders, trying to stay upright. I close my eyes as he caresses my face then pulls me in, sharing a tired kiss. Both of us exhausted from the fight.

We soon part and then embrace fully, Hannibal rubbing soothing hands down my trembling back and sides, me just clinging to him. I feel a laugh bubbling deep inside my chest, waiting to spill out. I soon hear him murmuring into my ear as he inhales my scent.

“Sweet Will, beautiful Will. You were amazing, you have finally become what you were meant to be.”

I just hum as my body finally calms down enough to notice that we are precariously close to the edge of the cliff, the wind blowing strong as a storm threatens to roll in and sweep us away. But I can’t move, I don’t want to, I want time to stop and live in this moment with him forever. Shit, am I horny again? What the hell, maybe we could fuck on the Dragons’ corpse. I’ve already thrown all my morals out the window anyway; why not throw some kinks into the mix as well?

I pull out of his embrace, Hannibal releasing me only to arms length, hands still fastened to my elbows. We just admire each other, breath finally evening out; just when I find my voice again, Hannibal shouts, having to raise his voice over the rising wind.

“Well, now that the danger has passed, let us go back to the house and get cleaned up. I must say that we have more than earned some rest. We will need to disappear soon though, I doubt Jack will let us be for long.”

I tilt my head and smirk at him as he starts tugging us away from the cliff.

“Aw, and here I was hoping to add insult to injury and reaffirm our relationship on his still warm and bleeding corpse.”

Still walking, he turns his head towards me and lifts a mordant brow.

“The hazards of fornicating upon the deceased not withstanding, I doubt we will be very comfortable if the weather continues to worsen as it has been over the course of the fight.”

“Tight ass.”

There is just the slightest upturn to his lips as he turns back to the path before us. Just then, the sky opens up and icy cold rain starts hammering down over us. I grimace and start running towards the light of the house we left earlier. I barely hear Hannibal shout at me as our hands slip apart. I try to stay focused as the rain starts blocking the light out as well as blurring the surroundings together in a dark grey howling mess.

I figure I’m just about there when I feel the ground slip under my right foot, and a freezing hand slips over my left wrist. I think gravity won out in the brief seconds I teetered on the edge, because the next thing I know is a strong gust of wind and I’m tipping to the right completely. As I feel myself falling, I barely register being wrapped in Hannibal’s arms as I look up to see crashing waves falling down upon us.

Oh.

Shit.

I jerk and gasp as I struggle in the dark as something suffocates me. After a few moments I manage to kick free of the blankets I was apparently wrapped in. Was it a dream? I don’t hurt nearly enough for having fallen off a cliff.

My breathing calms down and I look around, well try to anyway. It appears to be nighttime, and I can’t see much apart from a lamp that is perched on the nightstand. I lean over and fumble for the knob before freezing. Either it’s way too dark or I’m going crazy, because it looks like my arm is way smaller than it should be. Shaking my head, I turn the lamp on and look around.

I then look around again; because there is no way that I am here, unless someone recreated my childhood home in Louisiana. Maybe I did go crazy. I shake my head then swing my legs over the edge of the bed, freezing again before lurching up and rushing into the bathroom to look at myself in the mirror. From what I can see, because my chest is level with the rim of the sink, I am exactly the same age as I was before Dad moved us to New Orleans. I shakily take in the wide blue eyes, pale sickly skin, and badly cut curls that I definitely shouldn’t be seeing again. No old faded scars or fresh wounds from a fight I’m sure I just had, just a scrawny pale child who looks absolutely terrified.

Double shit.

I’m sitting on the bed when dawn filters into the filthy trailer window. I blankly stare out at the scenery while still trying to figure out what was going on. It’s been a few days since I woke up drenched in my own sweat and, apparently, 28 years younger. The day I woke up was rather uneventful, all things considered. Dad went to work at the shop, like he usually did back then, and I pretty much piddled about the trailer trying to find clues as to what was going on and hoping that it was all a dream. The second day I had to go to school, and I stopped thinking I was just dreaming while everything I knew tilted on its axis.

Here’s what I know so far. It’s 1990 and I’m 13 again, which means I have puberty to look forward to again. Great. Things don’t stop there, oh no; I didn’t just go back in time, but it seems that I may in some weird, fucked up alternate reality. I probably wouldn’t have thought this except for some gossip I over heard from some teachers that I never found very memorable the first time around.

When my alarm chirps loudly, I sigh and close my eyes to the image of the grimy, rusted trailer that sits outside my window. I open them back up and reach over to turn it off, finally getting up and getting ready for the day. Where is the library again? There is no way I’m going to school while I have no clue what’s going on. I need to read up and see what, exactly, is different about this place. Integrating into a new world will be much harder if I don’t know things that are supposedly common sense here. The first thing I’m looking into is this alpha, beta, whatever stuff the teachers were talking about, and what presenting has to do with it.

After going through the morning motions, I pick up my small ragged backpack and make sure my notebook and pencils are in it, since I don’t want dad thinking something’s up and I want to take notes. I then grab my premade sandwich and head out the door. Pausing to get my bearings, I head out of the trailer park and to the road, turning right. I hope this is the right direction, I have to walk everywhere and I never did have the best stamina before I joined the force.

It takes a little over an hour to get to the small, barely maintained building that, from my memory, only housed old newspapers and a small collection of encyclopedias and various worn out novels. Since the Internet is still in it’s early stages and a small town like this won’t have the money for a computer of any kind, I will have to personally go through as many newspapers as possible as well as skim the encyclopedias. It will take most of the day at minimum, and I may have to come back on the weekend to look at anything I have missed. As long as I get back home at a reasonable hour, dad shouldn’t know I skipped and I can go back to school with a better idea of the goings on around here.

I slowly push open the surprisingly well-oiled door and quickly look around. Not seeing anyone, I quickly dart over to where I believe the books are and grab the first three volumes of the partially worn encyclopedias. I then go to a secluded corner I spotted earlier and sit down against the wall to begin reading, starting with the A’s. As I open the first book, I skim the pages not finding much different until I come across the word Alpha. And now the words of those women make a whole lot more sense.

From what I overheard, the class clown in trailer 3 just presented as an Alpha even though everyone expected him to be a Beta since both his parents were Betas. At the time, this conversation made no sense because no one in my knowledge are dogs and operate on pack dynamics; and they sure as hell weren’t referring to the Greek alphabet. Not only did I time travel, but I also managed to wind up in a world where people had not one, but two genders. I slam the open book against my forehead and groan. Just fuck me sideways why don’t you, not only do I have to go through puberty again, I can’t even rely on my past experience since I may have to contend with a whole new set of hormones and anatomy.

I shudder and then remove my face from the innocent book, flipping to the entry on Betas and locating the correct tome with the entry on Omegas. Might as well see what I may have to prepare for. After reading everything those books have to offer I can summarize the contents into a rather simple mental list.

One, Alphas make up around 30% of the total world population and are the most aggressive of the genders. They have a very particular scent that is secreted from special glands in the body that help them to intimidate others, soothe and comfort a mate or family members, as well as help attract a mate. The glands at the base of the throat must be bitten to form a bond with their mate, which only works if it is an Omega they are paired with. It seems this bite must be re applied regularly or the bond will fade over time. Alphas can go into something called a rut when their mate is receptive or goes into heat and have something called a knot at the base of their sexual organ to ensure conception after intercourse. They are generally bigger built and the males tend to have more body hair than their Beta counterparts. I know for sure that I am not one of these just by considering my personality alone. I don’t even want to know how an Alpha female works.

Up next are the Betas. I personally think that’s what I am since they are relatively normal by my old world’s standards. They have a very neutral scent compared to the other two genders and are mildly tempered. Not much else to say about them other than they don’t have mating glands and make up most of the population. They still have scent glands but the scent tends to be weak and generally unappealing to the other genders.

Last are the Omegas. These seem to be what many would call the “fairer” sex. Physically, they are smaller and weaker than their two counterparts, and over all very feminine, with soft features and very little body hair. This includes the males, who seem to be built for child-rearing like their female counterparts. They have a unique scent like the Alphas, and have glands just like the Alphas as well. They make up less of the population than the Alphas and are the most fertile of the sexes. The thing that struck me the most was that not only females, but the males can also give birth, though there are far more female Omegas than male. Again, I don’t really want to know how that works. Other than periodic heats and submissive behavior, there isn’t much else to mention about them.

I heave out a breath and shake my head, my curls bouncing against my skull. When was my hair last cut? Oh well, doesn’t really matter. I need to see what time it is before I decide what to read next. I huff my way up form the floor, my legs groaning and seizing from the awful position I was in, and walk over to the clock on the wall. Looks like I barely have enough time to get home just a bit later than normal. I go back and pick up the books I had piled on the floor and place them back in their places before hurrying back home.

#hannigram #sherlock #a/b/o verse #alternate universe

[trickster-tricks]

Inquisitor Somniar

Abstractly

Somniar Lavellan was different; Cullen knew this abstractly. It wasn’t that she was elvhen, or a rogue, or that she seemed to always find something to laugh at - it was in her eyes, her gait, and curious expressions. The mark in her hand seemed nothing in comparison to the look she got in her eyes some times. It was a wild, untamed look - it curled her lip and narrowed her gaze - seemed to change the very air around her.

But it did not happen often - at least not within his sight - but when it did - oh, when it did - it became so very obvious that she was different. She wasn’t like Solas - or Sera - or Fenris - or any other elf he had ever met before or even heard about - Maker, she wasn’t like anybody he had ever met before. It was something dark - something feral - something he should fear - and yet - he didn’t.

It made him feel safe and warm and like he meant something.

Abuse

“Blood magic? He used blood magic on you?” Somniar hissed, and if Dorian hadn’t already been so high strung and emotionally vulnerable he might have realized that the elvhen woman was more than not happy. He simply nodded, words failing him as his heart threatened to beat out of his chest - he was only thankful it was only her in there with him and not Solas and Blackwall too.

The rogue turned her burning gaze from Dorian to his - his - sperm donor and her lip curled back around her teeth showing her rather sharp fangs, “That’s fucking abuse, you damned bastard. Not just physically, but of your child’s trust.”

Dorian realised a little half-heartedly that Somniar was well and truly enraged. Her face had twisted into a furious snarl and the gold in her eyes was more prominent and the ferality in the air around her had surged forward and seemed to cloak her entire being. It has happened before, but not often - and it usually precluded the woman loosing control in some way.

Somniar prowled forward towards the Magister, death walking in her every step, and she purred lowly, “Blood magic is the sign of a weak mind, hmm?”

Halward flinched back, his earlier dismissal of the elvhen woman taking rapid steps to correct itself in the face of the suddenly extremely dangerous rogue. He tried to respond, but words failed him and the snarl on her face curled into a truly terrifying smile.

“The only reason I won’t rip you apart where you stand is because Dorian still loves you, despite the despicable things you’ve done,” she hissed venomously and her eyes bore into his coldly as she finished, “You hurt him again, in any way, and I will do just that, no matter what.”

She turned away from him, facing Dorian once more, and leaving her back to him, and rested a hand on the man’s cheek. She pushed her forehead against his and said lowly, “I will be right out that door. Something even starts to happen and I will be here in an instant, yes?” Dorian closed his eyes, reaching up and holding her hand cradling his cheek tightly and took a deep breath.

Ache

“The ache never leaves. Burns and twists and threatens to break under the weight. Waiting, waiting, waiting, why isn’t she here? Empty space beside and inside - so tired. Old, old, old, death and dying, birth and living - where is she? It’s there, I can feel it, but I can’t help.”

The group froze, looking at each other unsurely, and then at Cole, who was peering at the Inquisitor with distress. Somniar was looking at the spirit boy pensively, and the others tried to puzzle out what Cole’s words meant.

“Old pain, old wounds, old hurt - torn open, can’t breathe - assassin? yes, like her - keep her close even just a little. Blank space in head - alone? lonely, not there, so empty, can’t feel Yūrei - mine, my kittens, family, children, gone, gone, gone - no, I am your kitten - I -?”

The spirit boy paused in his slew of words when Somniar rested her hand on his cheek, cupping his face and leaning down slightly so she could look him in the eye, “You help, Cole.”

He peered at her intensely, searching, and then said, “I do - kitten, family, mine. Must protect - not fragile, but breakable. My kitten - means home, happiness, and warmth - soothes the pain and stitches wounds. I can help.”

He gave a proud little smile and repeated, “I can help!”

Alcohol

“How are you not drunk?” Dorian asked with an incredulous look. Somniar blinked at him, glanced over at the growing pile of bottles next to her, and shrugged. He gave her a look, and she grinned. “Even Iron Bull is drunk,” he pointed out.

“Tipsy,” the qunari corrected, speech only the slightest slurred.

“You’ve had an inordinate amount of alcohol - how are you not drunk or even tipsy?” Dorian continued as if the warrior hadn’t spoken.

Somniar gave him a devilish smile and didn’t answer.

Anatomy

“Always go for the softest part - the jugular, the spine, or the head,” Somniar told the recruit, adjusting the young man’s hands on his daggers, and shifting his foot back a little with her own. “There is more to battle than swinging a blade and hoping it lands - know the anatomy of your opponent and you will be more likely to win.”

Cullen watched the elvhen woman silently, keeping one eye on her and the other on the rest of the recruits. Somniar had wandered over with a faintly amused smile on her face, and had promptly inserted herself into the spars. Some of the recruits were more rogue than warrior, and it was them she inserted herself with.

It wasn’t long before she started teaching them as much as she sparred with them and there was an ease in her manner that told Cullen she had taught before. He didn’t think it came from being the Hunter of her clan, either. The way she spoke and taught was more in line with teaching for battle and war.

It was - disconcerting.

Anticlimactic

“Well, that was rather anticlimactic,” Dorian panted, leaning slightly against his staff and eying Somniar a bit warily. The elvhen woman was casually flicking the blood off her daggers, face twisted in some kind of half snarl that set his teeth on edge.

Her golden gaze glanced over at him briefly, before she practically tore the key from the dead Avaar’s body and stalked over towards the room where the missing Inquisition soldiers were being held.

Dorian felt slightly better when he saw that Cassandra was following after the other woman with her own wary look, rather than the intrigued one Solas was wearing. “Are any of you hurt?” Somniar was asking when he finally caught up with the rest of the group, a growl like undertone to her voice that had the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

“No, ser,” one of the soldiers answered a little gingerly. “Mostly just a few scrapes from the skirmish.”

There was low snarl from the newly minted Inquisitor - and her expression told Dorian that the Avaar were lucky to already be dead.

Apology

“I feel I owe you an apology,” Dorian said cautiously, still feeling vulnerable from the meeting with his father, and unsure how to act around this woman who had threatened to rip his father apart if he hurt him.

Somniar cocked her head to the side, and asked, “Whatever for?”

He waved a hand carelessly, for once words failing him, and her gaze softened. She uncurled from her position in one of the chairs, gliding over to him and cupping his face. She brought his face down until their foreheads rested against each other, and soothed, “There are no apologies. You are mine - my kitten - my family. I will be there, whether you need me or not, and for whatever reason there be.”

Axis

Whatever he had expected, what happened was not in any realm of his imagination. He had never expected this elvhen woman to live with the mark pulsing on her hand as if to shove his mistake in his face, and yet - she did.

She had burst into the battle like some kind of wild animal, and then had laughed and smiled as if she hadn’t just easily slaughtered powerful demons. She was Dalish - but she was beautiful. She had a fire in her that reminded him of his people before the fall and it made his heart ache.

She completely threw him off his axis - but still he wouldn’t (couldn’t - didn’t) change his plans and he left, his heart wrapped in ice.

Badmouth

“Don’t you dare badmouth my inner circle,” Somniar snarled lowly, her gold eyes pinning the Chantry sister in place. “Rumors or not, Dorian is apart of my circle for a damned reason, and it’s of no fucking business of your’s of his place there.” The redhead prowled forward, making Mother Giselle take a somewhat fearful step back, and she finished, “So you can take your fucking rumors and racism and shove it up your fucking ass. Leave Dorian alone.”

The Mother looked at the elf with wide, scandalized eyes, and flinched when the golden eyes narrowed. “Watch your step, Mother Giselle,” Somniar growled warningly. “I don’t like something you do, you won’t like what I will do to you.”

Beads

“Come here,” Somniar gestured over at Cole, who had been hovering in the shadows of the stairs. At her motion, however, he creeped over to where she sat at the table surrounded by the Chargers and the Iron Bull. She smiled at him and tugged him down so he sat between her legs on the floor, and carefully took his hat off and placed it on her chair.

The Chargers couldn’t help but stare as the Inquisitor began to comb her fingers through Cole’s hair, before she began to actually braid the short locks. Cole just sat there, a pleased little smile on his face and eyes a little wider, indicating he was listening. Dalish eyed the other elf contemplatively, and then she pulled out a couple beads from the pouch on her hip and handed them over.

Somniar paused in her braiding, eyeing the beads and then Dalish, before she smiled in thanks and began to thread the beads in. “Warmth, family - used to braid his and her hair - source of comfort and relaxation - stress relief, calm - fond remembrance helps stitch wounds. I help,” Cole murmured, pleased smile growing a little wider.

Dalish cocked her head to the side, and then asked, “You have family, Lavellan?”

Somniar hummed, face gaining a rather melancholy look. “Parents are gone, but I have two younger siblings, Ellana and Mahanon. They’re still young, so I was sent to the Conclave instead - I am very thankful for that,” she offered, a wane smile on her face as she finished tying off the braid she’d finished. She noted that Iron Bull narrowed his eyes, but didn’t expand on it.

She knew what he was thinking.

Bear

Somniar stabbed the bear violently, hair threatening to come out of its braid in a wild mane and face set in a wild look, and furious yell fading. “Do I have some kind of bear nip on me? Why won’t they leave me alone?” she snarled, flicking the blood off her blades harshly.

Cassandra grunted with disgust, while Solas looked overly amused at the other elf’s anger. “It must be the brightness of your hair,” Dorian quipped, brushing some dust off of his robes. Somniar shot him a narrowed eyed look.

Beast

“Yūrei isn’t there - where are they? Missing, gone, gone, gone - where did they go?” Cole piped suddenly, eyes wide and peering over at Somniar, who was staring into the camp fire listlessly. Solas frowned, while Blackwall simply raised an eyebrow.

It was not the first time Cole had mentioned this Yūrei and it being gone in relation to the Inquisitor, but it was usually in combination with something else. Cole shuffled closer to the elvhen woman, his hair still in messy braids and notably longer in length, and continued, “But that’s wrong! The beast is still there - waiting, watching, knowing - simply another form, style, being - the instinct, the bloodlust, the aura.”

Somniar had turned to stare at Cole with a sudden intensity that took Solas and Blackwall aback. Cole met her gaze earnestly, and repeated, “Yūrei is there - just different.”

Believe

“People can believe whatever they wish,” Somniar answered idly, lounging over the chair across from Josephine’s desk. “I will only care if it becomes detrimental to me and mine.” Her gold eyes pierced across into Josephine’s own brown eyes, and the Ambassador found she couldn’t quite look away from the intense gaze.

Below

Varric probably should’ve expected it, but still he hadn’t really thought about it - so he could only sigh when Somniar settled on the wall of the battlements in a precarious position that would eventually drive Cassandra into insanity, he was sure. The red haired elf blinked at the two males slowly, and then prompted, “Well?”

Hawke coughed, shooting a look at Varric, that was thinly veiled panic (because what the fuck did you do with a woman who sat on the edge of something with a sheer drop below on the other side?), and the dwarf took pity. “Spitfire, this is Hawke,” Varric introduced. “Hawke, this is the Inquisitor, Somniar Lavellan.”

She smiled.

Beyond

“You are not what I expected,” Cassandra confessed  and Somniar shot her an amused look. The other woman gave her a disgruntled look, and the elf laughed.

“Don’t worry so much, I am often not what people expect, even beyond a first meeting. My siblings have lived with me their whole lives and I still manage to surprise them.”

Cassandra gave her a pensive look, before she said, “You do not talk about them much.” It was an open ended statement, meant to either open a conversation or close it.

The redhead blinked, and then smiled, settling more comfortably on her perch on the table. “I didn’t think anyone would want to know really,” she started, letting out a low laugh. Cassandra blinked, startled, but settled in herself, knowing that Somniar was going to actually talk. “Our parents died when Ellana and Mahanon were very young, they don’t remember them much - I basically raised them after that.”

“How young were you?” Cassandra asked, looking slightly worried. Taking care of another person was difficult, nevermind if you weren’t much older than that very person.

Somniar laughed, “I was sixteen at the time - the twins were a surprise. Our parents weren’t expecting to ever have more children - so, while a surprise, it was a happy one.”

Blindly

“I will not go into this blindly,” Somniar frowned, glowering at her advisors a little. “It is bad enough I am expected to go to a place that endorsed the slaughter of my people, and play nice. So tell me what to expect.”

Cullen gave Josephine and Leliana a look that clearly told them ‘I told you so.’

Blow

“Who do I have to blow to escape this place?” Somniar muttered, leaning over to Dorian so she could in his ear. He let out a startled laugh, looking partly scandalized and partly amused. The elvhen woman draped herself over him, shooting some whispering nobles a withering glare.

“Stop that,” Dorian said amusedly, sliding an arm around her waist (earning himself a pleased hum). “You do need court approval.”

She pouted at him, “But you’re much more entertaining, lovely.”

Cathedral

It wasn’t a cathedral, but it was tucked away enough into a corner Cullen felt comfortable going there to pray. He knew others knew it was there, so he wasn’t overly surprised when Somniar entered while he was praying.

She waited until he was finished before she spoke to him, and that meant a lot more than even he had realized.

Chop

“Let me show you how to bake cookies,” Somniar laughed. “Just because she lied, doesn’t mean you can’t learn now from someone else.”

Sera sputtered, but she looked cautiously pleased at the offer under the bluster. Somniar smiled fondly, “Come on - we can chop some fruit or something and put them in.”

Cinnamon

“Cinnamon is great for putting in cookies, especially ones with chocolate in them,” Somniar explained cheerily, putting some of the spice into the dough and mixing it in. Sera eyed her suspiciously, but copied the move, making the redhead grin at her wildly.

“Just roll about a spoonful into a ball on the sheet and stick ‘em over the fire for about ten minutes,” the older woman explained, doing the actions as she said them.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #lavellan #long post #really long post #lavellan inquisitor #some sollavellan #somniar