#rodent beading

[pixelmischief]

So many opossum mamas!!!! Wonder where their babies are........ They should be trailing behind them!!

#opossum #mama possum #pixel art #perler art #perler beads #pixpopart #low poly #low poly opossum #cute rodent #wait no they're not rodents #cute marsupial

[aseaofyoongi]

just desserts | jjk

jeon jungkook x reader (f)

genre: one night stand; neighbors; set in the summer cause i miss it dearly.

rating: mature audiences only (strictly 18+)

summary: jungkook is your next door neighbor who you have only crossed a few words with. however one hot summer day theres a city wide blackout and strangely enough, he shows up at your door w brownies. . and other delights.

warnings: crush culture; mentions of lack of confidence; masturbation (f.); foul language; naughty thoughts; penetrative sex; unprotected sex (wrap it up); dry humping; oral (m. receiving); praise; sub-ish jk!; jk has a huge dick;?brief mention of seokjin and joon; oc is very hørny for jk basically; those fucking gifs of jk w his long hair and glasses inspired this so thank you jeon jungkook; edited but excuse any mistakes please.

word count: 6,3 thousand words

posted: monday - january 30, 2023

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A sixth floor walk up in the middle of the scorching month of July was certainly not fitting on your basis of an ideal home. But after your extensive apartment search always ended with high-priced, rodent infested corners New Yorkers often mistook for apartments, you were happy to shake on the deal for this studio apartment with Seokjin without having to break your piggy bank or burn a staggering hole in your pocket.

“When is the elevator going to be fixed, Seokjin,” you fanned yourself as beads of sweat adorned your white tank top.

“That’ll have to be when I finally win the lotto,” he guffawed from behind the plexiglass square standing between you and his office.

“Very funny,” you mumbled, beginning your journey up the stairs. He didn’t hear you though, instead his focus remained on whichever drama he played on the television.

Kim Seokjin, was the name of a superstar—or so he says. He claims to have attended the Juilliard School for about two years, with dreams of becoming the newest face of Hollywood and all of their high-priced productions. When Seokjin’s dad fell ill, he couldn’t keep up with the demands of keeping so many residence buildings open, he had to close more than half his buildings and just like that, financial strains created a hurdle the size of Mt. Everest in the life of Seokjin. He was left without his dreams, without his father and taking care of a building where the rent was too cheap to gain a profit, making just enough to cover the mortgage.

Normally, you weren’t so exposed to details of your landlord’s lives, but Seokjin was different. He was also your friend.

“I put water bottles around the halfway mark. The last thing I need is a lawsuit over a dead body,” he yelled up as you barely made it to floor two.

“How considerate. I’ll try not to die while you’re on the clock,” it was too hot to continue your journey up. . too hot to form coherent sentences. You just wanted to make it to your apartment and sit in front of the fan for the rest of the day.

“That’s all I’m saying,” you heard.

Once your foot met the landing on the third floor, your eyes desperately scanned for the promise of beverages Seokjin had informed you of, but the small table set-up on the other end of the hallway was completely empty. Leaving behind only the particles of dust and pure oxygen to inhale. Fuck—you actually felt like you were going to pass out. Just three more floors.

You wanted to yell down a snarky remark towards Seokjin but you figured that required too much energy you simply did not have.

Moving to New York was a decision you had made impulsively after feeling like you had overstayed your time in your parents house post-high school. You averted college at all costs because it just wasn’t for you. Lectures seemed like a bore and professors were individuals being paid to legally torture their students so you joyfully averted that nightmare all together. Your immediate option was to get a job, but after many places began getting closed down back home, you found yourself job hopping as a means for survival.

It was not convenient, so you boarded a train to the city that never sleeps in hopes of never looking back. . And you haven’t since setting foot here eleven months ago.

“Just one more floor,” you uttered to no one in particular but the patchy silver handrail and the chipped white walls.

Your apartment was now in your line of vision and the only thing standing between you and the black steel door were just ten sets of stairs. Walking into the building your body was glistening with a thin layer of sweat but now you were drenched, your top was sticking to your skin and the thick beads of dampness rolled down your body like the condensation on soft drinks from fast food places.

Heaving with exhaustion you took a seat on the very last step of the sixth floor, finally you made it but you just needed a minute, just a single minute to catch your breath. The fucking heat was unbearable; intolerable; irregular, you could have sworn the sun inched closer and closer to planet earth as the day progressed.

Initially, you hadn’t heard as much as the squeaky hinges on the door frame, you were too divulged in your suffering from the days heat. Not to mention, your eyes were closed and you were too focused in a state of cooling down before hiding behind the thin walls of your apartment.

“Are you ok?” His voice became trapped in the muggy air surrounding the two of you. The bass in his tone never ceased to make your knees turn to jello, to make your toes curl and to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight.

Was the heat not enough suffering for one day?

“Oh,” you cleared your throat, “I’m fine. It’s just the heat.”

“Yeah, it definitely feels like we were shipped straight to hell today.”

“I don’t know, I think hell might be cooler than this,” he chuckled lightly—you’re foolish stammer and poor excuse of words enlightened him. The sun was still beaming brightly but you swore you saw stars after he had serenaded you so sweetly with the sound of his infectious laugh.

“I think you might be right,” he locked his door and walked past you on the stairs, “have a good day neighbor.”

“You too, Jungkook,” you called after him as he began his way down the unfortunate set of stairs.

Sometimes, you felt as if you’d been blessed as the main lead in the plot of a cheesy rom com, but after today the idea was really cemented in your head. Ok, look. . Jungkook was your hot neighbor, like very hot, unearthly hot, like he was handcrafted by God himself, kind of hot. Furthermore, only you and him resided on the sixth floor, living in a pair of tiny apartments right beside one another. Although that was all you had gathered so far, besides his name, it was enough to fill your head with delusions and daydreams of the man your eyes loved to gawk at every chance you got.

You read him very well, like the everlasting pages of your favorite novel. His silky hair was long and inched over the nape of his neck, he wore specs that sat perfectly on the bridge of his nose accentuating his big doe eyes. Though his features seemed soft his aura was borderline the complete opposite—a silver hooped piercing sat in the right side of his rosette lips while tattoos peeked right out of the sleeves of the white button up he usually wore.

You closed the door to your apartment, removed your shoes and hung your keys on the flathead thumbtack pierced into the wall by the front door.

The apartment felt even more scorching than the bustling sidewalks. After opening all three of the windows you were bestowed to have between your room and the living room, you turned on your fan and walked into the bathroom to draw a much needed cool bath. Stripping off your sweaty clothes, you stepped into the tub. For a minute, you were immersed in the utter silence floating around you—all your ears detected was the distanced whirring fan all the way from your room.

Behind the back of your eyelids, the world was dark and your thoughts brought you back to your encounters with Jungkook on the stairs just moments ago. Your interactions with the boy were usually extended to a whispered, ‘hi’ or ‘hello,’ never as prolonged as it played out today.

In your thoughts, Jungkook strolled by day and night, as you embraced every look, every utterance, every single time he brushed his hair back using his slender fingers. He was the cultivation of your desires and the reason why your heart strummed against your chest a bit harder the days you saw him leaving around 12PM every afternoon.

It baffled you how he always managed to look fucking good every single day—even during the hottest days of the summer, while you looked like vile beast he managed to look so perfect.

. . So fucking perfect.

The faint tingles traveling through your body, caused your skin to form goosebumps. The pulsation of your clit is what really began driving you to clouded thoughts to imagine his hands against you. You imagined the pads of his fingers to be soft mimicking a delicate velvet fabric and while you crumbled under his touch, he would murmur the filthiest of words against your ear.

Those ministrations could be enough to have you coming hard—he wouldn’t even have to fuck you. Shit, even looking at him was enough.

Being away from all of the toys you safely stored in your nightstand, you grabbed the detachable shower head and adjusted the water pressure, prepped your feet up on the rim of the tub aiming it in between your legs in an inevitable attack against your clit.

Your head lulled back in sure bliss as you fed your carnal desires, the only thing missing was him.

“Fuck—” How you longed for him to have you in this position, so sensitive to his sinful doings; so aroused for him. It was like a hunger your fingers, toys and this stupid shower head could not satisfy.

The vibration of his name dripped from your lips like a chant and you felt that bubbling fervor form in the pit of your stomach. Spurts of pleasure rushed out of you so intensely you were overwhelmed by the explosions of fireworks as soon as your orgasm erupted.

When your breath had settled and you finally felt like you could stand, you opted for a quick shower, rushing to get into your pajamas and plopped down on your bed right in-front of the fan for a nap, having your dreams quickly invaded by him.

Work sucked on Monday afternoons.

All you ever did was stare out of the ticket booth at the movie theater as the few customers who despised the weekend rush came in. Besides, there was rarely anything to occupy your mind with on slow nights like this. You had already sweeped and your co-worker, Namjoon was surveying the screening rooms for any shenanigans the younger crowds could possibly be rattling up.

You always left that up to him—he was the more intimidating one between the two of you anyway.

“Room 5 is a wreck,” Namjoon announced his entrance into the lobby, “I’m gonna go clean up.”

“Walkie me if you need help,” you tapped the walkie clipped onto your belt buckle and he nodded, grabbing the broom and a few rags.

Your stomach grew irritated as you continued golfing down copious amounts of candies but the truth was you were starving and had no time to eat breakfast this morning; let alone make something to bring to work to eat for lunch.

Namjoon was a film major. He was the spitting image of a cliche by the way—his parents wanted him to become a doctor but that wasn’t his passion so he ran away to the city and began trotting up the golden stairs to his dream. You wished you had even an ounce of his determination, he knew exactly where he wanted to go and how to get there while you still stood at the base of the mountain of your life. . unbeknownst on how to tackle it or which way it was to begin your way up to the summit.

There was nothing you had a passion for and quite frankly sometimes you were utterly clueless as to what your purpose was in life.

Had no dreams and no goals to strive towards; nothing extraordinary you expected to blossom in your future. There was nothing, nothing and more nothingness occupying the hours of your days.

“My child,” Seokjin walked in through the glass door, he looked like he'd been chilling in an oven.

“Seokjin,” you narrowed your eyes in his direction, “what are you doing here? I thought you never left the air conditioner in your office plus don’t you hate the movie theater?”

“You’re absolutely correct. The dimmed lighting here is horrid and I deserve better than that. .”

“Of course, you do.”

“But,” he leaned over the counter, “I saw your little neighbor boyfriend leaving the building today and I was fucking gagged.”

“Trust me, Seokjin. I know how good he fucking looks in that white button up. I’ve lived it.”

“No,” he squealed, “He had a black short sleeve shirt today and—”

“Spit it out, bitch.”

“He has a full fucking sleeve,” he squealed.

“No. Fucking. Way.” The pauses in between your words were not placed for dramatic effect—you were in fact attempting to paint a detailed mental image of that sinful man.

How unfair is it that he gets to walk around us mortals with our average looks while he exudes such grand flawlessness.

“Looks like someone owes me fifty bucks.”

The bet. . you had completely forgotten about that.

“I'll pass it over on Friday once I get paid.”

“I told you,” he began, “once a man gets one tattoo they’re usually covered in them.”

“Yea, but he has this soft look to him, you know?” you shrugged, “I thought he might have had a few. But a whole sleeve?”

“Jungkook is a walking juxtaposition.”

“I suppose he is.”

Seokjin sat on the counter emptying a handful of sweets into his palm, “what are you doing eating all of this candy anyway?”

“Uh,” your thoughts were still filtered towards Jungkook. You wanted to see him so bad, “I’m starving and just waiting on Namjoon to finish cleaning room five so I can go on my lunch break.”

“Namjoon as in the buff hottie with the deep voice?”

“I guess.”

“Room five?” You nodded.

“I’ll take one ticket for whatever the fuck you guys are showing right now.”

“Didn’t you say you hated it here?” You printed a ticket to. . you looked down, to the latest minion movie and ripped off the top half, “you complained about the lights or something.”

“Can you just give me a ticket? I need it to execute my master plan,” he rushed your actions in cutting the ticket you had printed, “besides you owe me for coming all the way down here with vital intel about your secret crush.”

“I owe you nothing. I’ll be paying half a hundred for that by the end of the week, remember?”

“Consider this,” he snatched the ticket from your grasp, holding it beside his toothy grin, “your down payment.”

Before you could form a further argument, Seokjin vanished from in front of you and sprinted down the main hallway to screening room five.

The best thing about your job were the designated days off you had throughout the week. Tuesdays and Fridays were yours to enjoy and while today was Tuesday your schedule was still jam packed with an abundance of errands to complete come the early morning.

You had paid your utility bills, finished your laundry, cleaned your apartment and even set out poultry to defrost by the time you made it back home. It had been a very productive day.

Your last stop was the grocery store.

Oftentimes, you’d wander aimlessly, losing yourself in each aisle wondering about how the better half lives, how much better life would be if you didn’t have to keep incessant reminders of your weekly budgets stamped to the back of your head.

How much easier life would be if money wasn’t such a big determinant in the choices we were forced to make in our day to day lives.

Oh, how much easier life would be.

You only grabbed the essentials for the next couple of weeks including—rice, greens, fruits, water, milk, meat, and a variation of breakfast options.

Temptation roamed in the air as you headed out of the cereal aisle you were face to face with a bakery section where an unhealthy amount of baked goods were sprawled out—practically blaring out your name. All of the delicious delights made your mouth water and you couldn’t help but gravitate deeper and deeper, guided by the aroma of the sweet desserts.

“Neighbor?” It was his earthy voice, the same one you’d only heard vibrate among the walls of the tiny hallway of the sixth floor the two of you shared.

“Jungkook?” You looked up from the brownies and your eyes met his figure, in the same clothes you usually saw him leave his apartment. It was his work uniform, “You work here?”

“Is that judgment in your tone I hear?”

“N-no,” You stammered. Was he fucking with you? He had to be fucking with you. “Of course not. I would never judge—”

“I was just playing, neighbor.” Phew.

“I always come here. How come I haven’t seen you before?”

“I’m usually baking in the back. I was just coming out to set these down,” he held up the dozen cupcakes sitting inside the boxed packaging.

“You bake?” Hopefully, you sounded more stunned than judgemental because you were i. fact stunned.

“I’m an aspiring pastry chef. I go to culinary school,” Jungkook, your beautiful, doe eyed, tattooed, pierced neighbor was also a baker. Ok.

For some reason that made him so much more attractive.

“I would not have been able to guess that even if I tried,” You mentally kicked yourself at the lack of filter in your words. You weren’t trying to offend him and hopefully he does not take it as such.

He chuckled—that’s a good sign, “People tend to simulate that very reaction but you can certainly knock on my door if you’re ever craving something sweet. I promise they are amazing.”

Craving something sweet?

Your thoughts traveled back to the enticing thoughts you possessed a few days ago while you took a bath, the vivid image of the water pressure against your cunt and the pure desire to have him near made you dizzy. And now he was near, just a couple of feet away.

A wave of warmth traveled through your extremities, the pulse on your clit turned to an overbearing throb, you wanted to rub your thighs and alleviate the feeling. But you remembered where you were, in the middle of the grocery store and Jungkook still stood right before you. Nevertheless, you tried to ignore the wetness pooling between your legs; dampening your panties.

“I practically poured out all of the basic details of my boring life. I think you owe me at least something about you.”

“There’s not much to tell,” you shrugged, “but I work at the movie theater down the street if that piques your interest at all.”

“It does. I love movies.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you there before.”

“Well, if I’m honest I haven’t gone in a long time but that’s only because work and school keep me pretty busy.”

The lust streaming through your body doubled to make your heart beat with fondness and you grew endeared in the way Jungkook’s eyes lit up when he talked about his aspirations to become a baker.

“You’ll have a free ticket waiting for you whenever your schedule clears up.”

“Promise you’ll join me when I decide to go.” His words carved themselves into your brain like a permanent tattoo, just as those decorating his arm. The fluttering feeling in your abdomen heightened as a result of the dithers, without being aware of it, that is the effect Jungkook had on you.

“As long as it’s on a Tuesday or Friday.”

“Deal.”

“I’ll see you around, Jungkook.”

“See you, neighbor.”

Thursday was the worst day of the week so far.

Technically you were supposed to be at work, it was already 4:00PM, but instead you were still home. Even just sitting down in the muggy atmosphere of your in the miniscule space, you were doused, staining your clothes with sweat.

You were not willingly suffering at the lack of mercy the scorching weather subjected the city and everyone in it to, unfortunately the power had gone out. And while usually you had the luxury of a fan to cool down, today you had nothing.

Your windows and front door were left wide open in an attempt to cool down the place and still you felt as if you were sitting inside a fucking oven set to hightest temperature. There was no use.

“Neighbor.” Jungkook called out lightly knocking on the opened door.

Jungkook? Not Jungkook again when you looked like an absolute wreck.

“Hey Jungkook,” he stood at the door frame, a wide grin painted on his lips—he held a to-go box in his hands, “you can come in.”

“Do you want me to shut the door?”

“Sure,” you gave in, it’s not like it was actually doing anything. Besides, the last thing you needed was one of the crazy residents from the lower floors coming to bug you.

Jungkook took a seat next to you on the couch, he wore a sleeveless top exposing all of the ink embellishing his skin, every line, every curve, every word was so intricate and seemed so unique to him.

“I didn’t know you had these many tattoos,” a small fib was a price to pay to not seem like a weirdo, “did any of them hurt?”

“Some did,” he pointed at his tricep, “mainly these and a few others but I have a high pain tolerance.”

“Well, they’re beautiful,” you scanned his arm some more. It was truly like a mural embodying the beauty of art, “were you a singer?” you signaled at the microphone sitting on his forearm.

“I guess you could say that,” he adjusted himself on the couch, his nylon shorts rode up his thighs and you just hoped he wouldn’t notice the way your eyes glanced down constantly. Jungkook didn’t notice though, he was too busy averting eye contact and scratching the back of his head, “My highschool friends and I used to make music. We recorded a mixtape.”

“I need a link to this mixtape. . like now,” You laughed hysterically.

“Oh no, you don’t.”

“Ok, ok,” Again, another surprise from the man you thought you had all figured out—every single day he surprised you more and more, “were you like a vocalist or a rapper?”

“Vocals mostly. I did try rapping once though but I sucked so badly they scratched it off the track.”

“At least they were honest and didn't let you crash and burn in public.”

“You should’ve seen me though. I thought I was the shit.”

Jungkooks giggles were everlasting as he recounted the many times their parents grew exhausted of kicking them out of their garages for their disturbances in the making of their great musical legacy.. He filled the room with vibrance. The longer you sat in the presence of Jungkook the more you were exposed to the colors that made Jungkook, Jungkook. Of course, you were intrigued by the phosphorescent hues allowing them to inch you closer in his direction. Wanting him to spare no details in the adventure of his life.

“What’s that?” you pointed at the packaging box beside him on the arm rest.

“Brownies,” he handed you the box, “I saw you eyeing them when you were at the bakery but you didn’t buy any. So, I figured I would bring you some.”

In your mind, this was his way of saying he was thinking about you—that’s what you chose to believe anyway.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. Besides, I wanna see what you think of my baking.” Jungkook’s eyes were bigger than usual behind his specs, he fidgeted with the hem of his shorts.

If only he knew, the actual taste of the brownies would hold no significance in your criticism. You would love them anyway simply because they came from him.

“How about we have one together?”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, “let’s go to my room. There’s two windows in there and I’m literally about to pass out from heat stroke out here.”

The two of you sat by each one of the windows, the box of his remaining six hand crafted sweet delicacies sat between the two of you on the nightstand.

“You ready?”

“Yes.”

“1, 2,” the two of you held the chocolaty dessert up to your mouth, “3.”

Even after just one bite your taste buds were enamored.

“What do you think?”

“They’re amazing, Jungkook. You’re an amazing baker.”

“You can call me Kookie, you know.”

You nearly choked after taking another bite, hurdling into a coughing spiral, “that’s so fitting. Kookie the pastry chef.”

“Forget I said it,” he shook his head, laughing.

“Wait, no,” you loved the soft tint of pink dusting his cheeks, “that could be the name of your future shop.”

“Kookie’s Cookies.”

“Kookie’s Cookies,” you confirmed, “and I wanna be credited for the idea too.”

“Better yet, you’ll be my business partner.”

“That’s not a good idea. I’ll eat everything and you’ll just end up bankrupt,” your eyes were set on the congested sidewalks outside your window—everyone was out likely catching a break from their scorching apartments but here you were melting away all at the expense of being in Jungkook’s company just for a bit longer.

“I wouldn’t mind as long as you’re with me.”

Those eight words sent your mind into a spiral, head first into the rabbit hole of your fantasies. You couldn’t really make out if he truly meant what you thought he meant.

“Jungkook. .”

“I mean it.”

“Please don’t make me believe there could actually be something here,” Your voice was low and your thoughts were a scribbled mess. There was not a single coherency in your being at that point in time.

“I’m not lying,” your name tasted saccharine on his tinted lips—much like the brownie he had baked for you, “I like you.”

“Jungkook. .” was all you could muster.

“I’ve liked you from the moment you moved into the building.”

A single strike of thunder traveled down your spinal cord, you felt paralyzed in that moment and his sweet sweet words just continued looping inside the walls of your skull.

You were malfunctioning; shocked.

It’s astonishing how oblivious and just plain stupid human nature can make a person. For the past months, you had concealed the schoolgirl crush you developed on Jungkook and convinced yourself that there was absolutely no way in hell he could like you back.

Your insecurities had deceived you and now you sit here after so long with a thumping beat in your heart, giddy with excitement and lowkey wanting to slap yourself for not having noticed earlier.

“You like me?”

Obviously, he just fucking said that. He nodded.

“I like you, too.” You finally said out loud.

The temperature continued to rise in the small bedroom and between the two of you the heat became unbearable. With each passing second, you could feel the streamline trickles of your sweat cascading down your temples; your entire body matter of fact.

If eyes were the windows to the soul then Jungkook’s chocolate gaze was compelling.

And they were calling out for you so loudly.

“What happens now?” He pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose.

“Can I kiss you, Jungkook?”

You caught on to Jungkook’s mannerisms and body language rather quickly within the past hour. For example, he was pretty straight forward with his words yet whenever he spoke his fingers fidgeted with a random object as a distraction, this time it was the black beaded bracelet sitting on his wrist.

He nodded yet again.

Your heaven resided in the comfort of Jungkook’s thighs. You realized it the moment you straddled him. The rich smell of sandalwood was a scent unique to him, so earthy and rich. It was the only thing you ever wanted to smell for the remainder of your time on earth.

After raking your hands through his soft hair you tugged at it a bit, guiding his face up towards you.

“If you want anything from me. You’re gonna have to use your words, Jungkook.”

“You know what I want,” his eyes traced the corners of your lips down to the intricate details, “just kiss me, please.”

There are an abundance of perfect scenarios in life. For one there was the idyllic scene of snowfall on Christmas day; the legendary creamy combination of cookies and cream; then, there was the way your lips danced against Jungkooks, composing a choreography so intricate and beautiful only the two of you could execute it.

You were in a haze, entirely stupefied and addicted to his soft and warm lips. Then, his hands snaked around your waist as he guided you back and forth on his lap. His covered erection rubbed against your clothed slit in a pace so slow, it was agonizing yet delectable. Jungkook pulled away, continuing to lead your movements against him. Your mouth remained agape and you couldn’t help the sounds escaping your lips.

You wanted to pinch yourself, you’d only ever dreamt of this. Was this all a fabrication of your dreams? You hope it wasn’t, it felt so good.

“God, I’ve always wanted to have you like this.” His voice was husk and he spoke in between grunts.

If today was dictated as your last day on earth, you’d die being the happiest woman.

His warm breath fanned your sweaty neck. A tickle ran down your back but you focused on the knot forming at your abdomen.

“I’m so close.”

“Let go for me.”

His commands were sweet like candy and the utters of his guidance to have you crumble on his lap were all you needed to send you over the edge.

“You were so good for me, darling.”

“Call me that forever.” Your knees were sore, your voice was hoarse and you were sweltered from head to toe but you craved more, you grew wetter just imagining what else could arise from this encounter.

“Darling?” You nodded. “Jungkook?” He hummed lightly, opening his eyes and lifting his head from where it rested on the wall.

“Are you tired?”

“I just had a long day yesterday.”

“Can I help you unwind?” your lower lip now tucked under your teeth, “can I touch you?”

“Please.”

Your hands tucked under the hemline of his shorts and underwear. The way you illustrated Jungkook in your dreams was close to what you would imagine a modern Greek God to look like and you quickly realized that was the case when his shirt lifted revealing that he should be the one on display in museums instead of those silly little statues.

Your chin rested on his shoulder, while your hand moved up and down the length of his cock. You couldn’t see it, not yet. But he felt so big in your palm.

The hushed moans and curses leaving him fueled you to maintain at the same pace. Your lips found themselves leaving wet kisses on his already dampened neck.

“Please—please don’t stop,” He was a stuttering mess, his hand was gripping the window still so tightly his knuckles turned white. Hypnotized by arousal Jungkook began meeting your movements, enraptured by his desire for release.

“You’re not being a very good boy, Jungkook,” you whispered in his ear, “besides I thought you were tired.”

“I’ll—I’ll be so good I promise,” he continued fucking himself into your hand.

Jungkook whined as soon as you released his cock from your grip. Instead you tucked off the pesky fabrics covering his lower half, with his help of course, your theories were proven to be correct. Jungkook, your hot neighbor with piercings and tattoos also had a pussy destroyer in between his legs because of course he did.

“There’s only two rules baby.”

“What are the rules?”

“You have to keep your hands to yourself and no coming until I say so. You got it?”

“Yes, darling.”

Opening the last drawer on your night stand you pulled out one of your vibrators and held it up for him to see, “is it ok if we use this?”

“Mhm.”

You shoved it in your pocket for later.

Taking him into your mouth, you began swirling your tongue in circular motions around the head of his cock. His labored pants were hushed and almost inaudible, you would’ve missed them if the two of you weren’t in complete silence.

Licking up and down his shaft you focused on pressing your tongue on the tip, as your hands began working, pumping him where your mouth couldn’t reach. You bobbed your head up and down occasionally, allowing the head of his cock pop in and out of your mouth. Slurp noises began invading the atmosphere around the two of you along with his whimpers. Your pace was fast and there were traces of your saliva coating his length entirely.

“Fuck darling,” his hands were reaching to grasp anything in his path but instead he ended up knocking everything off your night stand. “Y-Your lips were made to be around my cock. You know that?”

Jungkook’s praises were treats for your ego and you made sure to devour them in their entirety. He was a pleasant mess; his hair stuck out in all directions while his lips were swollen and vibrant with a scarlet hue as he kept biting down on them harshly. His glasses were slightly fogged and there were traces of saliva sitting on the corner of his mouth. All you wanted was to continue seeing him lose himself at your mercy.

You reached into your pocket and turned on the palm sized stimulator—you placed it against his balls before hitting the on button, setting off its vibrations. His head fell back and his hips buckled forward, causing you to gag around the majority of cock.

“I’m gonna come,” he cried out.

If anyone would’ve told you having Jungkook’s dick in your mouth would be this heavenly, you would live on your knees in front of him forever. Pleasuring him at every hour of every day but today you had different plans and once again he let out frustrated whimpers as you removed your mouth from around him.

“No—no, darling you’re fucking killing me. I need to come now,” he sounded desperate, “It hurts so bad. I need to come.”

“Don’t worry baby. We’re getting right to that,” you placed a kiss on his forehead.

“Did you bring any condoms?”

He shook his head, “I wasn’t exactly expecting things to go down this route.”

“Are you. .?”

“I’m clean. Are you?”

“I am.”

There was a timid breeze coming in through the opened window, it was enough to cool you down just a bit, well as cool as you could be without a fan.

Bouncing on Jungkook’s dick was even better than having him in your mouth. Sure, you loved the way he became a stuttering mess with the teasing of your tongue but having him deep inside of you, you felt like you were in your own heaven. On a deserted island somewhere with nothing but the swift breeze coming from the palm trees and his touch on your skin.

“You take me so well,” he whispered in your ear but you were too busy consumed by your own pleasure. Hyper focused on the way his hands dug into your waist; the way he swiftly pushed his cock in and out of you.

The sounds of your skin slapping against his blared through the room, as well as your profanities and his words of praise just as before.

Your nails dug into his shoulder as you felt a build up of tension tightening in the pit of your stomach, causing you to arch your back. Seemingly, the way you clenched around Jungkook he seemed to have noticed you were extremely close.

“Come for me darling,” with each word he buried his dick deeper into you.

It was a blissful paradise painted on the back of your eyelids as Jungkook continued to mold your insides with his dick, he was careful but rammed into you with such force, your voice was strained and you couldn’t hold it any longer. You finally came as sights of the beeming sun behind your closed eyes blinded you entirely.

“Come inside of me,” you managed; even more sweaty than how you began, absolutely tired and completely out of breath.

He chanted strings of your name as finally filled you up.

“Please come over more often and bring all of your brownies with you,” you were pressed up against him as he hugged your waist, placing a soft kiss on your head.

“How about we begin by going to that movie tomorrow?” It was so funny to you how Jungkook had practically just split you in two and now he was back to being soft spoken.

“It’s a date.”

It was now Friday, the power was finally back on around the city and Jungkook followed through on his plans to take you to the movies. The only problem was when you approached the theater you spotted your nosey landlord standing in line right beside Namjoon. “Before you say anything, Seokjin. Please just shut the fuck up.”

“You always think the worse of me,” he placed his hand on his chest, “all I was going to say is my Cupid’s bow is to thank for the two of you finally getting together.”

“In that case, thank you Seokjin,” Jungkook said.

“Don’t thank him.”

“Actually, please do. But the next time yall fuck in my building please keep it down. Just like the walls, the floors are also thin and the fifth floor did not appreciate your day of passion.”

“Seokjin, please go back to your own date,” you hissed, hoping no one else in line heard his little rant, “pretend we’re not here.”

Jungkook’s shame sat in his now red tinted cheeks, you peppered kisses on them to ease him.

“See, they can’t even keep their hands to themselves in public,” you heard Seokjin whisper.

This is going to be an interesting date.

-

-

-

a/n: this was pretty fun to write but supposed to be out on my birthday a couple days ago but i couldn’t meet the deadline sadly but please enjoy and disregard the smut scene if it’s bad. I tried lol my brain just wasn’t working 100%.

thanks for reading. comments, likes, reblogs and messages are always appreciated. let me know what you think ;)

#bts #bts smut #bts imagines #bts reactions #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook drabble #very brief mention of seokjin x namjoon #bangtan sonyeondan #jungkook x you #bts jungkook smut

[moderator-monnie]

The Awakening (A COTH Story)

Eggman suddenly jolted 'awake' or what can be described as awake; his body was sleeping yet he found himself aware of his surroundings. It was like a lucid dream; he knew exactly what he was doing before he got here and how he got here.

The place was a completely black void, and for the most part, it seemed to be covered in a white mist, with a few specs of what looked like stars but not many—not enough to create much light but enough to be seen here and there.

"Truly a marvelous place, though I expected a dream god to have something a bit more... Imaginative, I won't lie, but I digress best not to judge the god before I get to meet it."

He just started to walk through the void, being careful about his steps. The further he walked, the darker it got—darker, darker yet darker—it became more void-like as he went along. At first, he found it interesting, but the further he went, no matter what direction, he wasn't finding anything.

Eggman found himself starting to get annoyed, and when he turned around, the white mist and stars were no longer there, which confused the doctor, but seeing he was making no progress, he huffed and puffed loudly.

"ALRIGHT, WHERE IS THIS DAMNED GOD? THIS PLACE HAS NO VISIBLE LANDMARKS, AND I CAN'T EVEN SEE WHERE I'M GOING. I'M A DOCTOR WHO'S QUITE BUSY! I KNOW I'M WHERE I NEED TO BE, SO WHERE IS ZEPPER-"

Just as he was about to continue shouting, suddenly some torches appeared and a large path was created out of nowhere in front of him. Each torch had coloured fire matching the chaos emerald's colours; there was even a cobblestone path. What made the path interesting was that it was carved to look like each stone was the letter 'Z', and as Eggman could see every few feet, there were eyes on the ground.

The eyes all turned to look at him, and Eggman gulped nervously, following the path, making sure not to step on any of the eyes. After a very long walk and torches continuing to appear and brighten the way, there lay a large throne made of solid gold and two statues of sheep with sleeping caps on their heads.

The sheep turned to look at Eggman and began to drool in a purple liquid that even Eggman could smell at a distance; it appeared to be toxic ... but familiar it seemed to be the liquid Eggman had mass produced in chemical plant zone, and soon enough, with the blink of the doctor's eye, the path he followed was completely gone.

Hundred's of eyes suddenly appeared all around him, all staring at him, and the laughter of everyone Eggman had ever met in his life could be heard around him. Then suddenly they all exploded into confetti, and sitting on the throne was the god of dreams itself.

ZEPPERAITH.

Eggman jumped when Zepperaith's head was suddenly just a few feet before his own, Its massive eye staring directly at him, looking almost like it was examining him.

"WOAH! Look at that! A talking egg! I didn't expect to get some breakfast in bed. Boy do you have any idea how rare it is for me to have a proper meal? I mean, not that I really need to eat like you little creatures do. But sometimes I want to be included!"

Eggman gulped and a bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. As much as he hated jokes because of one blue pest, he hoped that the god was joking. It wasn't going to ….

Then their head pulled away and spun like a ball being tossed, landing on the shoulders of the god who now was sitting on its throne. A leg crossed over the other and its cheek rested in its hand, the other petting the dripping statue of a sheep beside it.

"So what's a guy like you doing here? Been forever since I've seen anyone 'round these parts. Well, been asleep for a good long time, that's probably why."

An intense anxiety fell over the doctor, that anxious feeling he always had when he was having a bad dream, a bad dream about that blue rodent foiling his plans. He hoped a bit that he would suddenly wake up like this was just a bad dream, but he couldn't, as long as the god knew he was there he couldn't wake up. So much happened at once; he just didn't know how to feel.

He exhaled and bowed his head towards them as a sign of respect. He didn't get onto his hands and knees though, he had to much pride in himself to do that.

"Oh, Im quite sorry to disturb your slumber, Zepperaith the-"

"Oh shut up!" Zepperaith said loudly to cut the doctor off. "That stupid hogwash … " It lifted one of their hands, a crude sock puppet of one of the ancients was on it. Zepperaith moved up and down as they spoke in a voice that was vastly different than its own. Mocking the words that it had heard over and over again. "Oh, we love you, Zepperaith. Please give us good dreams! Let us kiss the ground you walk upon!" It groaned and threw the puppet away.

"I know, I'm great." It said softly. "You really don't need to tell me what I already know. What I want to know is … WHY ARE YOU HERE?" It slammed its fist into the armrest of its throne, the impact making a loud bang.

Eggman flinched a bit when the god slammed it's fist down. He kept staring at them with that continuous anxiety, but two new feelings came over him, confusion … and mild annoyance. This god seemed so intimidating at first, but oddly reminded him of …. Sonic.

Of course, that annoying pest always seems to nuzzle his way into every single one of his plans. Even if he wasn't here at the moment.

He cleared his throat and spoke. "Right, we'll, Zepperaith. My name is-"

"I already know your name." Zepperaith rudely cut him off again. "Just get on with it, egghead."

Eggman's eye twitched. He had to grit his teeth to prevent himself from insulting the god who could easily rip him apart. "Yes, we'll, you see, I performed this ritual to meet you and wake you because I want your help, almighty god of the mind."

Zepperaith looked down at Eggman, rubbing their chin with a finger in curiosity. "Help? You want my help? With what exactly?" It bent forward in its chair, it's single eye narrowing at the doctor.

Eggman stood up, pulled at his collar, fixed his clothes, and cleared his throat.

"Oh, we'll discuss the details later. What I need your help with is dealing with a little … problem of mine. You see, my goals are to make the world a better place for everyone alike! But there's this …. Little … idiotic …blue …. PEST! I-" He cut himself off and looked back up at Zepperaith who had a brow raised to him. He needed to contain his emotions before the actual truth slipped, and he would be done for.

He cleared his throat and composed himself. "My point being. I want peace for the world. But there's been a thorn in my side for all too long, a thorn by the name of Sonic the Hedgehog. With him gone. I can finally fulfill my lifelong dream of creating Eggman Land. And bring joy and peace to the world!" He looked back at the god. "That's what you want, right? Peace? Tranquility?"

"Yes."

"Well, there you go! I wake you up, you take care of Sonic. The perfect plan! You can do whatever you want when the deed is done!"

Zepperaith liked the points the doctor had thrown about, after all, its whole deal was to make people happy. Shame that's what caused it to go to sleep all those years ago. People just don't understand the vision.

But the god knew there was something off about what the man said. It could tell his ego was so thick that they could practically feel it in the room, it was near exhausting. And with that ego, it made Zepperaith suspicious. That maybe what he was saying wasn't actually what he really wanted.

An anxiety came over Eggman again and he grinned nervously as he awaited the god to respond. He stood there as he stared into the endless void of its face, its eye had disappeared while it was silently thinking. The silence around them was deafening. He cleared his throat to get his attention again.

"So? Yes or no?"

Zepperaith made a low hum as it tapped the tips of its fingers together in thought, then it's eye reappeared and opened. "Fine. I don't have anything better to do."

Eggman practically bounced as he clapped his hands. "OHOHOHO! Splendid! I promise you won't regret it!"

The God's lower lid of its eye curled up like an invisible smile. "Oh I bet I won't." It stood up from its throne and moved close to the doctor. "But now if we need to get me out of here, I'll need your help in doing so."

"Ah, yes! Of course!" The doctor paused, he couldn't remember if there was anything else to do to bring the god into the waking world. "Er … what is it?"

The god jutted its hand out to him. "Oh, there's many different ways. But just a handshake would do this time. Think of it as to seal the deal of our partnership."

He hesitated, but Eggman grasped the god's hand and shook it firmly. Then everything disappeared, including the god before him.

"Rise and shine, doctor." He heard its voice.

Eggman awoke and saw the blue sky above him. He sat up and yawned out the tired from himself. He felt so refreshed, he hadn't had a good nights sleep like that in ages. Man, it was true, that god really did wonders.

He got up from his sleeping bag and looked around, he didn't see the god yet, it did say it would be awake soon, just how soon he didn't know. He looked at his hands then pinched himself to make sure he wasn't still asleep, nope. He was awake. And he now has the power of a god on his side.

Eggman cackled loudly into the sky. "NYAHAHAHAHAHA! YES! OHOHO! I DID IT!" He grinned madly and rubbed his hands together. "NOW I WILL FINALLY GET RID OF THAT BLUE NUISANCE ONCE AND FOR ALL! AND WITH A GOD ON MY SIDE, NO ONE WOULD DARE TO OPPOSE ME! I WILL FINALLY BUILD EGGMAN LAND AND RULE THE WORLD OF MY DREAMS!"

The doctor cackled again, but this time he was cut off, as the sky began to fade to a dark crimson colour, turning the world into a deep reddish hue. He looked down and saw the ground in the middle of the halo he slept in turn to pitch black. This was it.

He ran from the halo and watched as he saw the god pull itself up from the ground, and oh, it was massive, maybe as big as perfect chaos was, maybe bigger. It took a deep breath in and exhaled out a sigh, looking out to the world before turning its attention to the doctor.

"OHOHO! This is fantastic!" Eggman laughed. "We can get started right away!"

"Right. To get rid of this Sonic the Hedgehog … " Zepperaith nodded then leaned down to the doctor. "And 'rule the world of my dreams' ... " it repeated the doctors words from before.

Eggman's face went as pale as a ghost. He didn't think the god would have heard him before he appeared. "Uh … I-listen … I … uh … " He stammered as he tried to come up with some excuse. But he was grasped by the gods hand and pulled up to be face to face with it.

"I have to say, good Doctor … You are pretty good at swaying others into your favor. And you are right; I do want the world to be happy! But you are forgetting something … " Its grip tightened around the doctor slightly. It didn't want to crush him, no matter how much it would enjoy that. "I can do that just as easily, by myself."

Eggman was practically trembling in the god's hand, though he tried to hide his obvious fear from it. "Oh, but don't worry, doctor! I am Zepperaith the Dreamer, after all! And I'll make sure you'll have such a pleasant dream. Why, even …. The world of your dreams." It's last worlds sounded ominous and threatening.

And before Eggman could say a word of protest, Zepperaith put a finger onto his forehead and he was out cold. Now in a dream of his own. A dream … A dream full of pure, unbridled agony. Whatever dream the god had given him, it was there to punish him.

Perhaps a little intense of a punishment for the doctor, but Zepperaith didn't care. It hated it when people thought they had the right to trick and use them. It wanted to make the world a better place, and it wouldn't be subjected to such selfish idiocy. Speaking of which …

The doctors body had transformed into some wicked puppet, laying still in the gods open palm, eyes pure white and mouth agape in pure agony. Zepperaith picked him up with his other hand by his jacket and pondered what to do with him now. Certainly it didn't want to use his body for whatever it had planned, it didn't want to look at this selfish man anymore.

So, Zepperaith hung the doctor onto some strings that reached down from the abyss of the sky, pulling down on him before letting go and he shot up and disappeared into the sky above. Now, to business'.

It bent down and picked up its halo from the ground, dusting it off before putting it around its own head. Taking a second to adjust it to sit right. It needed to look nice for these people after all.

"Well, looks like I have my work cut out for me if that imbecile was of any note." It snorted. "PAH! Please, if someone like him could cause harm, then these people need my help more than anything."

It laughed to itself in amusement, but then it trailed off when it saw one of the feathers from its wings fall off and disintegrate into mist. It let out a noise of disappointment. "Already? Hmm … guess that took more out of me than I thought … "

It tilted its head, a small city was just barely visible across the horizon. A perfect place to look around and see what has been going on since it was put to rest, as well as find something more suitable for its figure.

And so the god moved. It brought itself out of the crater and into the forest that surrounded it, eyes pinpointed to the city ahead. It's halo gently bouncing against its head with its movements and its wings draped behind it like a large cloak, feathers plucking off every few minutes and turning to mist.

Maybe that Sonic the Hedgehog would be a good help. Yes. It just had to find him first.

#Curse Of The Hedgehog AU #COTH AU #Sonic The Hedgehog #STH #Sonic Horror AU #Story #Dr. Eggman #long post #Zepperaith #Zepperaith The Dream God #the awakening is here #this story is a combination of me and weirdoz writing #I wrote the original story and weirdoz rewrote way over half of it #this is honestly my favorite story of all the ones we've done for COTH #because it's both me and weirdoz coming together to write it! #I'm so proud of this story #Zepperaith is such a silly yet intimidating antagonist

[onlyseokmins]

strawberry & cream • k.m.g.

Pairing: kim mingyu x fem!reader

Genres: smut (minors dni!), "established" undefined relationship (?)

Warnings: alcohol, swearing, delayed orgasm (m), subby!gyu technically yeah uh huh, he's pussy whipped okay, lots of baby/good boy, lowkey i'm crying, consensual video recording/nude pictures taken, cumming inside wheee, mild aftercare!! lmk if i missed anything :)

WC: ~3k

A/N: I finally posted smth!! Was thinking of one of the dialogues in class last week lmfao and this is what happened. I'm procrastinating on everything else bc i'm unhappy w/ how they've been turning out but this one isn't too bad... turned out longer than i thought and i even made a quick banner ehehe 🤞🏻 enjoy ~

"You look like you've never felt the touch of a real man."

It's a comment that would have pissed you off if a stranger dared to say it to you. But you know who this tall drink of water is so you agreeably play along. First, taking a sip from the golden liquor swirling in your glass before smirking.

"How observant of you to pick up the fact that I prefer the company of women. They're lovely, kind, beautiful… " Your pointer finger extends to tap against tan skin exposed by the black dress shirt's two unfastened buttons. You lean in close to the tall man as your nail lightly draws circles causing him to groan. "And so soft and supple."

You pull away the minute Mingyu's eyelashes flutter shut when he breathes in the scent of the familiar perfume you're wearing. 

"Unlike you."

Chocolate brown eyes snap back open at your comment but you've already disappeared from his sight. Easily navigating through the crowded dance floor, the gyrating bodies grooving to the catchy techno beat naturally part for you to make your way through.

A large hand wraps around your wrist right before you arrive at the open center. You're swift to hide your knowing smile before he spins you around to face him, sweat glistening on his brow. It doesn't surprise you that Mingyu finds it difficult to move as lithely as you. Although tonight, it just might be the fastest time record he's found you.

"You were quick."

It's a chase and it's a game. Not the way one might think. Even with such a tall figure staring into your eyes, it's you who holds the upper hand. Like a cat tricks a mouse into thinking its escape and safety are secured, you let Mingyu play his cards like he has the winning royal flush.

Unlike a rodent, though, he very well knows to not have a false sense of security. He's well aware of who has the control. You.

But that doesn't mean he'll give in easily.

"Didn't let anyone catch me."

"Atta boy."

He preens under your praise. Mingyu's approachable. Despite his devilishly handsome features, one goofy smile is enough to put anyone at ease. Convince them to talk him up, thinking they might score a chance. But ever since this little "thing" between the two of you started, when that sly glint in your eyes lured him right where you wanted, he's gotten more efficient at blowing people off. 

Just to be the lucky one to have you.

You wish you could be annoyed or tired of him. Content to flirt with one of the many other pretty women and men vying to get your attention. But once again, it seems like you'll be going home with your little brother's best friend.

Warm hands roam your body. Eager to nudge his thigh between yours, you can feel the pleased grumble in his chest under your palms. He likes your outfit. Fingers tease at the large open slits around your waist, hooking underneath the silver double chain that decoratively runs across your hip bones. He tugs up questioningly and raises his eyebrows at the saucy wink you send him.

"Lace and beads," you challenge, "or nothing on at all?"

Mingyu wrinkles his forehead in thought, biting his lip at the faint detection of something hard amidst the heat of your cunt pressing into his thigh. "Fuck, you're dirty."

"What's your guess?"

"What do I get if I'm right?"

"Shouldn't you be asking what's the punishment going to be if you're wrong?"

"I'm sure I'll like it either way."

The disco lights blur when he spins you again, the narrow tip of your heels almost make you lose your balance if he didn't have such a steadfast hold on you. Like he'd let you go on his own accord. If possible, he presses the back of your body even tighter against his firm body so you can feel how much he wants you. Not that it's hard to miss, tight pants almost unable to contain such thick thighs, well-shaped ass, and specifically his dick bulge — especially when it's straining against its leather confines.

"Naughty boy."

"Says the one that always looks so fuckable every time we meet," his tongue plays with the tiny hoop on the upper part of your ear. "So goddamn sexy."

"Bet if I told you to, you'd take out your dick for me right now. Slip it right inside of me in front of all these people."

The change in music drowns out his reply but you can easily tell what it is by the desperate roll of his hips. Like a puppy in heat, he grinds pathetically against the thin blue material covering your body searching for some semblance of relief.

You snake an arm behind his neck to grab at the fluffy locks he's growing out because he knows you like to pull at it. Mingyu readily brings his lips to your neck to lather you in hot, open-mouthed kisses. Throwing your head back against his shoulder and swaying to the beat, he continues to casually explore. Wandering hands move upwards, appreciating the access to your midriff above the high waistband. 

Brushing underneath the swell of your chest, you hear his frustrated moan at the crisscrossed laces just barely stretching enough fabric to cover your breasts. His brain goes fuzzy with the thought of one light tug freeing those gorgeous tits. The only thing holding him back from doing exactly that is the not-so-subtle gaze of the pretty woman that's been keeping her eye on the two of you moving around the dance floor. 

Who she wants is uncertain. Maybe both? The two of you are trying to blend in, acting as if you're not about to tear each other's clothes off right now. A fleeting glance and you probably look like the average dancers surrounding you but a steady, piercing gaze is enough to figure out the undeniable sexual tension between the two of you.

"And you say you're not naughty, Mr. Kim."

He knows you can read him like an open book. "Only for you, god… you know the things you do to me. You alone. But fuck, is this a one-piece?"

"Yeah, you like it?"

"'Course I do, how could I not? But how am I supposed to take it off? I like you better naked, after all."

"Who says you'll be the one taking it off?" Your aloof tone makes him whine and you chuckle. "Luckily, I know a very efficient way to undress."

"Gonna give me a hint?"

Mingyu knows you've started to pay zero attention to any flirtatious gazes when you're in his arms. Which is why he refuses to let go. But of course, you have other plans. You pry one of his hands away from your waist, interlocking your fingers together. Once his grip loosens enough, you step away from his warmth and firm body. Keeping your hand in his, you turn to face him and tilt your head.

"Your answer?"

Brown eyes sparkle mischievously as he weighs his options on how to answer the initial question asked. Your patience will grow thin if you have to wait any longer so he makes up his mind with a toothy grin. 

"Bet you have nothing covering that pretty pussy of yours."

Mingyu lets himself be willingly yanked forward by the hand you're still holding. His lips collide with yours and he's quick to brush his tongue across your lips, asking for entry. You hum in contemplation once you feel his hands wander down to squeeze at your ass and press your pubic bone roughly against his bulge. Your mouth opens slightly, enough so your tongue can poke out and tangle with his. It's a battle he's suddenly determined not to lose as he fights and wrestles against your dominance in his overeagerness.

You press a hand against his pectoral to try and steady him so he doesn't knock you over and feel his heart beating at a rapid pace. Pulling away, you shake your head at the way he chases after your lips. 

"You're awfully bold for someone who knows their answer is wrong."

"I love kissing you," Mingyu admits more to himself than you yet you catch it anyway. It had taken months for even a peck on the cheek to be allowed. Of course, he'd be delighted with whatever few opportunities he's granted to lavish you in and with a kiss or more.

"Savor it now, baby boy 'cause you won't get another chance tonight."

He's elated, smiling at you and puffing out his chest. Eyes darkening with a carnal desire at the strawberry and cream flavor he can taste with a swipe of his tongue over his own lips. Grateful that you said "for tonight", not forever. A thumb daringly smears the complementary lip tint even further from where it's smudged and escapes the desirable shape of your mouth.

"Oh, I look forward to whatever you have planned."

—

Mingyu lowkey regrets those words an hour later when his cock is still achingly hard — oozing precum that's dripping down the entire angry red length and coating his abs. He wishes he could let his mind wander to ward off the orgasm that's been denied its release but that's impossible with you in his vicinity.

Naked. On top of him. Fuck.

You'd shown him how effortlessly you could take off a difficult clothing set. To know one's surprise, you were the one who taught him how to effectively unclasp a bra with one flick. Obviously, anyone would easily shed their clothes to have a chance with Kim Mingyu, so you figured it wasn't that big of a deal.

But guiding a man on how best to pleasure their partner was no small feat. Although the man only cared to focus on what pleased you.

Of course, it was torturing him. Duh.

Even now, the thought of you simply undressing has his jaw tensing. No one should look that good getting naked. But it's you. Doing it for him. 

"Shit!" he rasps out through clenched teeth.

"Aw, what's wrong, Gyu? Wanna cum already?"

"N-no."

"That's right, I didn't give you permission yet. Good boy."

He's panting, trying to keep his senses together but they're so dizzyingly saturated with everything that's you. 

The flashbacks.

When you'd loosened the laces and let your tits bounce out from their binds, putting on a little show for him per his request. Squeezing them together and releasing before bending over to show off the round curve of your ass and the pretty little thong you had on. Lace, chains, and beads in all the right places he'd felt earlier, you knew you could wear fancier lingerie without him ripping it because Mingyu wasn't allowed to touch.

The present.

His hands are gripping the sheets so tightly they might rip but both of you could care less about a hotel's bedding. Veins lining his arms pop out in irritation as he struggles to rein in how much he wants to touch you, knowing you let him get his fill out on the dancefloor and you'll more than likely let him cum faster if he's well-behaved.

The visuals.

You're gliding back and forth on top of his dick, not sheathing it fully inside you. Alternating between jerking him off with your hand instead while you sit on his thighs so he can feel your slick arousal all over them. He's doing so good for you and you're pleased. You'd already cummed once, making sure to slip just the tip in so he loses his mind over how tight you clench around him for kicks and giggles.

He was not beneath begging for you, knowing you thrived off of it. It would be a lie to say it didn't stroke your ego to have such a big, broad, beautiful man fall apart and break into pieces for you. He might've even cried, definitely feeling his eyes water in desperation now. You love it.

So much that you dismount, turning your back as you reach for your phone on the nightstand. Mingyu moans without shame but this one's out of despair. He'd rather be denied any release from the immense pleasure you've subjugated him to than ignored.

"Hush, baby boy, I just want to capture how pretty you look for me. That's okay, right?" 

"Will you let me cum? I wanna cum so bad. Pretty please?" Hips jutting up at the chill in the air making his dick uber sensitive as it flops pathetically against his stomach. "Please, please, please!" 

His "pleases" trail off into a mumbled mess of plaintive begs, big brown eyes pleading. You purse your lips in sympathy when he sniffles, shifting so you can run your hand through his bangs and then cup his flushed cheek.

"Shh, I'll let you cum baby, I will. But you know I need you to answer me." Taking pictures was already established between the two of you — both having your fair share of candid polaroids and videos stored away. But it was still a vulnerable decision and you wanted his clear consent. "Want to hear it from this mouth of yours."

Your thumb traces Mingyu's plump upper lip the same way he did to you earlier. Although you don't hesitate to slip it inside. He readily sucks on your finger and closes his eyes, using it as an anchor to stabilize his breathing and try to clear the haze clouding his senses.

"Y-yeah… Go ahead."

"Good boy, see that wasn't so hard." You snap a few pictures, eating up how good his dewy skin looks under the lighting. You're kind enough to not leave him wanting for too long, finally returning to wrapping your hand around his leaking cock. "Unlike this bad boy."

"'M sorry."

"Don't apologize, you're a vision to behold, Mingyu," you scold seriously. "And never forget that."

"Oh… kay."

"You deserve to cum don't you, baby? Sorry for making you wait so long." You both know you're full of shit. You're not sorry. "Well-behaved boys deserve their rewards, I'll even film a good shot of when you cum — you decide where so you can save it for when you're lonely."

"Th-thank you," Mingyu wheezes out when you begin easing his cock between your pussy lips. Achingly you start to sink down, light spasms causing your hole to ripple delightfully around the full stretch of his girth.

"As long you don't cum until I say so or you'll end up licking it off the bed."

He's so tense you're starting to fear he could tear the mattress. Consolingly, you bring his large hands up to your breasts, encouraging him to squeeze and tug at them as he pleases. Like his favorite set of stress balls, he focuses on kneading them in a way that has you arching your back and causing you to fully sheathe him inside faster.

Sometimes Mingyu can win in the smallest of ways.

You let out paired sighs of relief when the bottom of your ass meets his thighs. "Where do you wanna cum, baby?"

"Inside, god please, inside!"

He babbles helplessly at the sensual way you swivel your hips but you know he can't hold on much longer and want to ensure your puppy man gets his much-needed relief. "Your wish is my command."

The guttural noise he lets out is followed by an incoherent gibberish of him thanking you as he starts to paint your inner walls white with his release. It's a long one that lasts spurt after spurt with an enormous amount of tension unloading from his entire body. You ride him through it, the pleasant way he's twitching inside you setting off your own climax and milking all that he's worth.

You're quicker to recover, obviously. Tilting your phone camera at the perfect angle, you press the red recording button and slowly move your hips up. He grumbles at the loss of your warmth but you coo at him, fingers tapping soothingly where you've braced your hand against his abs for some support.

"Look how good you filled me up, Gyu." You're speaking more to the future Mingyu that will definitely be watching this but the Mingyu now is still listening. "Such a good boy."

He whines at the view he can see, the way globs of his release ooze out of your cunt at every clench you make for show. It's dirty and sinful which is your strongest suit. You save the video and send it to him once you're satisfied, noticing the way his eyelids are starting to droop.

Shaky legs carry you to the bathroom. You return with a washcloth, making sure to be very gentle wiping him down. He shifts onto his side when you've finished and extends his arm over the spot beside him, a silent invitation for you to crawl under the covers you pulled up over his broad shoulders.

And of course, you do. Well aware of how much he likes to cuddle and cling. Mingyu's a needy man all over and a large part of you feels guilty at being unable to give him what he deserves the most.

But he keeps this game going, continually showing up at every bar or club you inform your brother you're stopping by. You're not sure if you hate it or like it. You've left many openings for him to slip away and yet the man doesn't — only insisting on getting even closer. 

Not even the cold, empty side of where you laid next to him as he fell asleep is enough to discourage him. You see, you're not wrong but Mingyu's not simply needy. He's stubborn too. 

A dreamy grin graces his face at the sight of your trademark pink post-it note left on the nightstand for him. It never says much of any substance but it's not like he bothers reading it. He presses a kiss against the lip stain you always leave on it, breathing in the tantalizing strawberry and cream scent he knows so well that emanates from it. Then he slips it alongside the many others in his wallet. Right next to his favorite nude picture of you and the expired, unused condom from the first night he tumbled into bed with you.

onlyseokmins: October 2022 ©

Personal Taglist: @aceofvernons @joshibambi @junhui-recs @pandorashbox @rubyscoups @woozluv @yeosayang @dejavernon @httpswonwoosglasses @noraehey @charcharfairy @buffhoshi @horanghae8star @onlymingyus

#svthub #ez.creates #kpop smut #kim mingyu smut #mingyu smut #smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #svt.smut

[civilight-eterna]

Eunectes/Lancet-2, did you know Lancet-2 is large enough to contain a person inside her? Eunectes has an obsession with machines bordering on a desire to be one, I’m thinking those two could have some fun together.

Wonder if that space inside Lancet-2 is sound proof?

Potential tags, medfet, wireplay, machine ideation, bondage, overstim and fun medicines

Doesn’t need all of this just chase what sounds fun! I just think this ship is cute and don’t see it much

(oh god i'm SO going to hell for this. nsft everybody.)

...

"Lancet, can I look inside and see?"

"Permission: confirmed. Ple-ase be gen-tle Mi-ss Eu-Eu-Eu-ne-ne-ne-"

"-Don't speak! It'll be okay, Lancet. You can go into sleep mode if it's too much for you."

"Affirm-rm-rm-mm-mm-mm-"

With a deeply sympathetic frown, Eunectes smoothed a hand over Lancet's smooth, slightly over-warm chassis affectionately and began opening up the hatch from the side.

"...Ah, I think I see the issue." Eunectes shone a light inside and squinted through the tangle of wires, "I think if you let me come inside I can fix it."

"No, don't come inside! I'll get pregnant!"

"...Wh..." Eunectes balked, "What the-? Where'd you learn that?"

"Lovely Lovely Lovely Miss Closu-re-re-re-re-read it to me-"

"I'll have a stern talk with her after this about what she's reading around your audio synthesis module. Sorry, Lancet. I hate to do this but I do need to get in to help."

"Affirmative-veve."

Eunectes opened the panel all the way and tried to part the wires, but they were too tangled. She knelt inside and gently pressed forward until the top half of her body made it inside. It was humid and the metal surfaces were very warm to the touch, even with the whirring of fans inside the large chassis.

"Powering down. Good night."

All the lights inside went off at once.

Damn it, I can't see anything now. Eunectes brought the rest of herself inside to try to reach the emergency boot-up switch and pressed it.

"Starting up. Warning. Foreign body-dy-dy-dy detected-"

The panel Eunectes had used to get in suddenly swung closed and latched with a click.

"A-Ah, wait-" She tapped gently on the inside of the chassis, "Lancet, it's me-"

There must have been some kind of memory leak issue as well, Eunectes reasoned, for Lancet to not have retained her memory of the past few minutes far enough to realize that Eunectes was trying to help her.

Poor thing, she thought, and tried to navigate the thick cords entwining throughout the inside of her hull.

"Initiating quarantine of foreign body. Organic matter detected. Nervous system impairment agent ready-y-y-y- to deploy-"

"W-Wait-"

Eunectes scarcely had the time to call out-a mutiny of syringes popped out from every side compartment and stuck her almost everywhere her skin was exposed-into her lower back, her calves, her thighs, her waist, and even her tail. Whatever they were full of was injected fully, each syringe emptying out into her and detaching with a clatter against the bottom of the hull.

With a sluggish groan she feels the effects instantly. Her body goes limp and slouches, helpless as a hammock of cords catches her.

The weightless feeling, both mentally and physically, makes her feel like her whole body is filling up with steaming hot water, from her toes to the top of her head. Heat swirls inside the chassis, and perspiration beads her skin.

"Neutralization of foreign body: confirmed success. Engaging termination protocol."

'Termination'...is she going to...kill me?

A current starts to pulse throughout every single wire. Even if she could have anticipated it, she would have been helpless to brace against it-and yet, she feels no actual pain. Rather, the buzzing and humming and vibrating of the wires feels like it's only at a frequency high enough to maybe harm a rodent.

Oh, she thinks suddenly, of course there'd be no need to make it much stronger than that. It probably was designed to keep out pests and nothing more.

The current surges and shoots down her body everywhere it touches, and while it stings a little, she knows it won't seriously hurt her, even if she were locked inside for a while.

A far more insidious feeling replaces the fear she felt moments ago as the wires and cords continue to vibrate and tremble along her relaxed body.

"Mmnh..."

The sound of machinery in her ears and around her is rhythmic and steady with each pulse of the current. Her legs, dead weight, finally spread and slide over a particularly thick cord and it vibrates hard as she straddles it.

A long, heavy moan falls out of her mouth as her body responds to the physical stimulation, and while she can't move on her own, she begins to wish she could-

-just-

-She's ashamed for the thoughts she's thinking, for defiling Lancet even if it's in her mind only.

But she's probably not programmed to stop until she eradicates the threat. And she's not going to actually hurt me. Her biosensors are going to keep picking up my heart beat...

Shit, if only she could move, just a little-an idea occurs to her, but it's awful and necessitates some movement from at least the lower half of her body.

She bides her time, waiting in heavenly agony as the shocks keep coursing through her, vibrating between her thighs and against her clit. She just needs a little sensation to return to her legs-aside from the wet warmth slowly dripping down her thighs.

I can't take it. I can't take it I can't take this please please hurry-

Eventually, finally, she manages to move, and she ruts herself along the bundle of cord as firmly as she can, back and forth.

Instantly, she feels her tight shorts sliding ever so slightly out of the way, feels the electric pulses catch at the moisture buried beneath. The shock that comes is enough to refer sensation throughout the rest of her body, and she leans into it as hard as she can, gritting her teeth with a pained groan as she lets it force her to climax, feels her heart skip a beat-

"Terminationconfirmedopeninghatch-"

The side door opens again and Eunectes throws herself through onto the floor, panting, gasping, the remains of her clothing in complete disarray. She curls onto her side, hands diving between her legs, trembling and hyper-sensitive as she gasps through the rest of her orgasm, skin flush and hot.

"System restore: complete! Good afternoon, Miss Eunectes!" Lancet spins on her wheels and swivels around to examine her, "Oh dear! You are exhibiting signs of fever and dehydration. Your vitals are elevated as well. I recommend drinking a great deal of water and taking some fever-reducing medication. Would you like me to dispense some for you?"

From where she lays on the ground, Eunectes pants raggedly, shaking her head quickly.

...She's too good for this world. She really is.

"N-No thank you!" She answers a little too emphatically, "-No more medicine for now."

#arknights #eunectes (arknights) #lancet-2 (arknights) #nsft #my writing #requests #don't look at me omg #somehow still not the most dubious thing i have drafted

[thelostdex]

Today's Beta Pokemon of the Day is another unnamed Pokemon, known as ID-402.

These rodent Pokemon have very large ears and what looks like a bead on their neck. Some of our researchers theorize this Pokemon might be able to glide, but no evidence has been seen yet...

#beta pokemon #id-402 #BPotD

[defectivevillain]

bound by blood

paring: Raphael Santiago/Reader

synopsis: As you’re recovering from top surgery, you realize you’re bored out of your mind. You decide to visit Raphael and an interesting conversation ensues.

The reader’s gender identity is unspecified, but they do undergo top surgery. [This is completely and unabashedly self-indulgent.]

ao3 version

warnings: blood, mentions of surgery

Raphael Santiago is far from the most friendly person you’ve ever met, but you’ve never considered him to be rude. He’s always gruff and blunt, but he never acts above anyone else and he makes an effort—albeit a miniscule one—to make conversation with you. The more you get to know him, the more you realize that he’s a good guy. So when you walk into the Hotel Dumort one day to visit Raphael, you certainly aren’t expecting him to react with profound disgust.

“What?” You ask self consciously, not sure what’s prompting him to display such a reaction. Raphael isn’t super expressive in the first place, so the thought of him reacting so viscerally is throwing you for a loop.

“You reek,” Raphael says through gritted teeth. His hands grip the counter with frightening strength and his head is tilted down to avoid your gaze. You blink at him a few times, trying to process his comment. When you finally do, it’s hard not to be offended. You manage to make your voice sound calm.

“Sorry, I’m not allowed to shower yet; that’s probably why,” you grimace, itching at the binder on your chest. It’s far from comfortable, but thankfully, the pain has been decreasing with time as you expected it would. You’re counting down the days until you return to the doctor and get the binder and bandages removed.

“No,” Raphael says with a shake of his head. It sounds as if it’s hard for him to speak. You give him a moment to evidently regain his composure. “It’s… blood.”

“Oh, yeah,” you remark casually. Raphael gives you an absolutely murderous glare at that. “What?” You ask. “I just had surgery, so… it’s kind of unavoidable.”

“It’s so strong,” Raphael says, placing a hand over his nose.

“Probably because of these,” you explain, bringing the drains out of the confines of your pockets. Raphael’s eyes go comically wide and you watch in confusion as he slaps a hand over his mouth and turns his head to the side.

“Why would you show me?!” Raphael hisses, his voice sounding slightly warbled from behind his palm.

“Because you asked?” You respond with furrowed brows. Raphael is steadily avoiding eye contact. There’s a bead of sweat trickling down his temple and he looks to be in pain. “What, do you want the blood?”

“...No.” He’s never sounded less convincing. You huff in amusement.

“You can have it,” you offer. Truthfully, the blood serves no purpose anymore. Once it’s expelled from your body, you’re supposed to dispose of it. However, you suppose you shouldn’t let it go to waste—not when your vampire companion so rarely gets to drink human blood. You know Raphael well enough to know that he’d never harm a human and drink their blood, so he’s likely been drinking rodent or animal blood for as long as he’s been a vampire. Perhaps human blood will increase his strength. You’re not entirely sure—you’re no expert on blood or vampirism.

“Are you sure?” Raphael mutteres, drawing you out of your thoughts. He’s still steadily avoiding eye contact, as if willing you to drop the conversation and forget the interaction. Unfortunately for him, you’re too stubborn to let it go.

“It’s of no use to me, now,” you shrug, looking at him expectantly. Despite the clear resistance he’s showing, Raphael’s eyes are blown wide and his pupils are dilated in evident hunger. You can’t imagine how much strength he must have to resist the blood that is right in front of him.

Raphael doesn’t speak for a few moments. You sigh, before taking a few steps towards the bathroom. You then realize that you don’t hear any footsteps and, when you turn back around, Raphael is frozen in the same position as before. “What?” You ask, gesturing impatiently for him to follow. “Come on; don’t back out now.”

“Right.” Raphael responds with frightening sincerity. He follows you at a rather unusual distance. You’re grateful that Raphael seems to be controlling his urges for your benefit, but you can only hope that he isn’t causing himself any physical pain. Although, when you think about it, Raphael is easily one of the most composed and practiced vampires you know. There’s no way he would lose control in such a manner, you reassure yourself internally.

Once you make it to the bathroom, you pull the first drain out of your pocket. Raphael watches from his position leaning against the doorway. There’s a complex expression on his face. You tear your gaze away from him and carefully line up the drain with the measuring instrument you were given, before squeezing and allowing the blood to fall into the capsule. Thankfully, the process is painless. When you’re finished, you squint at the tiny numbers on the side of the container—only for Raphael to take it from your hand and drink all the blood in one fell swoop.

“...I didn’t get to measure it,” you remark regretfully.

“Sorry.” The vampire grimaces. His fangs glimmer in the dim lighting of the bathroom. He has the grace to look mildly embarrassed and remorseful. You resist a well-intentioned laugh at the genuine concern and regret on his face.

“It’s fine; just… let me measure this one, okay?” Raphael nods. You feel a bit nervous when you notice his gaze burning into the side of your face, but you manage to replicate the process with the drain on your other side. This time, you get a measurement of the amount of blood. Raphael is clenching his fists so hard that it looks as if he could break a knuckle. You push the capsule towards him on the counter and he grabs it with unfathomable speed, before drinking it without hesitation. He doesn’t shotgun it in the same reckless manner he did before; rather, Raphael pauses and turns to look at you for a fleeting moment.

“This feels… intimate,” Raphael remarks vaguely. You freeze and stare at him, wondering if you misheard him. He’s avoiding eye contact with you again, which convinces you that you heard his statement correctly.

“Do you want it to be intimate?” You hum, surprised by how confident and unbothered you sound. Surely, your rapid heartbeat will betray your confident facade—your heart is jackhammering in your chest right now. Raphael finishes draining the blood before wiping a hand over his lips and leveling you with an incredulous gaze. You stare back at him without hesitation. The vampire seems to need a moment to process the implications of what you just said.

“Yes,” Raphael finally answers. You stare at him in surprise. He’s staring at some unknown point in the mirror. When you try to make eye contact with him, the vampire is quick to avert his gaze. “But… I’m not interested in sex.” Silence settles in the air. For a long moment, there is nothing but a strange tension. It takes you several moments to realize that Raphael is waiting for a response from you. You blink at him a few times.

“Okay,” you eventually say, wondering why the vampire looks so high-strung and defensive right now. Had he really expected you to react poorly? Perhaps he’s had bad experiences in the past. The thought makes your stomach turn.

“That’s it?” He asks, a hint of wariness in his voice.

“I don’t plan on forcing you to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” you say.  It seems as if there’s a physical relief that Raphael experiences after that admission. His shoulders relax and the grimace on his face softens. He had been clenching his fists at his sides, and he moves to loosen them. For a long moment, there is nothing but silence. You busy yourself with washing your hands and valiantly pretend not to notice Raphael staring at you the entire time. It isn’t until you move to leave the bathroom that he seems to snap out of his trance. The vampire places a hand on your shoulder.

“Next time,” Raphael breaks off, as if the effort of speaking is laborious. His hand slips from your shoulder and falls back to his side. Raphael looks uncharacteristically restless. “I can help you empty them.”

“The drains?” You ask for clarification. The vampire nods. “Okay. You have to give me time to make measurements, though.”

Raphael rolls his eyes, letting you know exactly what he thinks of that idea.

#defectivevillain #trans reader #transmasc reader #nonbinary reader #Raphael x reader #Raphael santiago x reader #Raphael santiago #sigh #he #him #he's everything to me

[uzurimisery]

chapter 1: the night things went to shit. / choso kamo / nsfw

wc: approx. 6k

Warnings: MDNI, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, zombies, dubcon, violence, gore, eventual smut, slow burn, dead bodies, cannibalism, reader uses guns, guns, torture scenes, graphic depictions of violence and injuries, warnings to be added and updated

Sometimes the green blinded you. The vibrant, verdant shades, spiralling up the sides of buildings, breathing life into the dead cityscape. Where once doors stood, vines dangled hanging like beaded curtains. Roots thicker than your arms weaved through the cracked pavement. New species, ones thought dead, ones birthed anew, living and breathing in the death of mankind. Plants everywhere and in everything, and tiny white flowers in broken ceramic.

In the distance a pack of wild dogs were barking, no doubt hunting down a bird or two for dinner, or whatever rodent they could find. It was always so quiet when you were out here on your own. 

You still remember the before. When glass panes went high into the sky, the sun's light reflected off them and hurt your eyes. When your eyes were closed you could feel the heat from them, smell your mother's perfume as she pulled you by your sticky three-year-old hands to go in the building. Sometimes you could hear the wind whistle against the buildings as they swayed with it. The rumble of engines, horns, music, the sounds of traffic.

One day you’d wake up and forget that memory too. The dead were numerous and remembering them living hurt more than not. There were more important things to focus on than the dead, or you’d become one of them. Food, shelter, keeping your logs up-to-date, reporting to your commanding officer. 

How it happened was blurry. A mess of fragmented images, grating against each other, clashing between what was real and what was imagined. One day things had been fine and the next 90% of the population had died. And some came back to life. Shambling corpses decaying and composted as walking plants. The schools said that it was humans' fault it happened. That we warmed the planet to the point where things that were dead came back to kill us. Things that once were no threat became one. Others, a sect of religious people called The Followers of the Prophet said it was the result of all our sins, the hatred of mankind made manifest. Whatever the case, the world ended minus the small encampments of people left in safe zones. 

Some people still lived out in the wilds, apart from the remnants of civilisation. Some were small communities and some were lone wolfs. It was better to keep your distance from them regardless. The dead were dangerous, but humans were deadly.

Teton neighed under you as you led him out of the city limits, annoyed that you stopped petting him as you went. He was a funny horse, more personality than some people you knew. 17 hands tall, American Saddlebred, dark bay, and very opinionated. Breaking him had been a nightmare, no one else had ever gotten close to it, but one day the two of you reached an agreement and he’d been your mount since then. Even if he fought the bit from time to time. He was the only real perk of the job.

The stock of your Ruger 10/22 Carbine bumped against you awkwardly as you leaned forward to pet the needed horse. “Whiny boy today.” 

You were one of the lucky few. Taken in by The Federation, fed, educated, trained. All because you had potential because you had a gift. There were a few people like you. They called you all blessed but it felt more like a curse. Certain people, not many, could sense the hordes. Some of the more gifted ones could even control one or two of the corpses. Influence them to act differently.  You weren’t that talented, you just had enough sense that 

allowed you to do scouting on your own just like you were now. There were moments, darkness pooling behind your eyes, where it felt like there was more but it’d disappear as soon as it got there. Right now you could feel that power pulling at you, telling you that there were dead nearby. 

Another one of the dogs barked, pulling your attention back up. You squinted, turning behind you, one hand raised to shield your eyes. It was quiet today, more so than usual. It was easier to prefer the days which were chaotic and filled with events. When things were calm it felt like your nerves were on fire, primed and ready to burn. Waiting for a spark that never comes. 

The rounds were simple today. The sun was still high in the sky, hitting your back and you did the east route. It was cleared out years ago, with traps and mines put in place to keep any of the dead or looters from getting close to the walls of the Federation. Something about the silence today felt like a living thing, like a bumble was put around you, pressing against your eardrumbs blocking sound. It crept under your skin till the only thing you could hear was Teton���s horseshoes hitting the pavement and your own breath. 

Coming over the crest of Overpass 3E, the source of your anxiety came into view. A small pack of the dead, three of them, were rambling towards you. They were a mess, most of their flesh falling off in disgusting grey clumps, attached to the bone only by sinew.  You could sense they were on the last stage of this life cycle, soon they wouldn't be able to move anymore. They would become one with the environment, wherever they fell to the ground. There they’d sit and wait for some poor soul to walk back that they could reach and drain the life out of them, dooming them to become just like it had. 

The butt of your rifle slotted snuggly against the shoulder of your firing hand and you gave a low whistle, sharp and urgent, to Teton to stop moving and brace for a shot. Your cheek met the riser as you steadied the gun with your other hand. The chamber was loaded with six shots and you had reserve bullets on you if they ran out. Your Federation standard issue Glock 17 was holstered on your left hip in case things went south too quickly. 

Lining up the first shot was always the hardest but once you had it, you had it. Your finger tightened on the trigger, the metal cold against your skin. Everything was right in your sights, no need to adjust for wind. It was grim, how practised and patient the hundreds of drills you ran growing up made this second nature to you. Switching the safety off was as easy as your ABCs. 

Another dog barked. Teton snorted. And then, muffled by the suppressor, a bullet whizzed through the air landing in the centre of the foremost zombie’s skull, knocking it to the ground, the bullet casting falling, jingling when it landed. 

Two more shots followed suit. One hitting its mark and the other a foot off. The zombie had jerked erratically, somehow dodging the bullet. You lined up a fourth shot, accounting for its movement, but this one only hit its shoulder. It seemed to move with your gun, knowing to dodge. 

“Shit.” You muttered under your breath, adjusting to shoot again and you nudged Teton forward a few paces to make it easier. Finally, with the air filled with gunpowder, the fifth shot hit its mark. 

There was something off about the last one. It was too agile and aware for the state of decay it was in. Removing the magazine to load it again, eyes peeled on the final corpse. Thirty seconds passed by before it moved again. This time it was faster, spurred on by some unknown force. 

Your heart hammered against your ribs as the zombie screeched, lurching forward. Teton whinnied, ear flat against his head, starting to back the two of you up from the imminent danger. Your own fear echoed his, this wasn’t the normal lumbering dead you knew. This was different, something smarter, something angrier, something that wouldn’t die.

Training kicking in, you steadied yourself as Teton continued to back up slowly. He knew to keep his head lowered for you to have a clear sight while doing so. The silence only seemed to grow thicker, no birds or bugs were heard. Just the groans and screeches of the zombie in front of you. 

You pulled the trigger, the bullet flying out and hitting the zombie’s throat. It gargled, coagulated black goo pouring out of the entry point but it didn’t stop moving forward. Another shot. This one hit the mark square in the forehead. The zombie paused for a moment but it kept moving forward. 

One shot to the head killed them permanently. Two should make it so there’d be no chance of it being alive. But it was still moving.  A third shot rang out, hitting the left eye socket. Finally, it dropped to the ground, twitching and moaning. It wretched and jerked around for nearly a minute before finally, with a haunting death rattle, it stilled. 

You stared, watching it for a few more minutes, afraid it would move again. It was only after the birds started to chirp again that you felt secure that it was truly dead. Teton had lifted his head and shook out his mane. Digging your heels into his side, you spurred him forward, still having to complete your route. 

As you got beside the zombie which gave you all the problems, you shot it again. 

Teton neighed, annoyed that you were wasting his time, ready to move on and get home. 

“Just making sure,” you spoke while adding more bullets to the magazine. Something was happening out in the wilds, and not knowing was making you anxious. But there had been a change out beyond the Federation’s walls. “Let’s get back before sundown yeah? Don’t want to be out here longer than I have to.” 

───※ ·❆· ※───

You had returned before sundown but were kept at the barracks accounting for why your ammunition was spent. They didn’t believe you when you told them that it had taken so many shots to kill one zombie so you have a meal ticket docked from your pay. Stupid pricks. The food was never anything good anyway. Always tasteless and looked like sludge. 

The streets of the inner city were full of people today. Restrictions had finally lifted after the last attacks from the Followers. Not that the restrictions had any impact on you. Being gifted meant that you would never be out of the military until you hit 50. If you hit 50. People like you were too valuable to let go, no matter how much you begged. The last person who had tried to run, they had shot him in the leg to make him limp. Now they carted him around in a convoy on trade runs.

You took a moment to swing onto Market Street. Teton deserved a treat for being so calm today. Making a horse get used to gunfire, zombies, and near-death situations was not an easy process, but he was. He was as much a weapon as your gun was. 

You pushed through the crowds as you went, the events of today gnawing at you. Children ran past, screaming as they played tag. A pregnant woman was haggling with a vendor over a sack of potatoes. A few horseback patrol guards were moving down the centre of the street, maintaining order. Sunlight filtered through the ripped tarps strung 30 feet above street level. They were installed 15 years ago after a particularly rough winter left six feet of snow covering the stalls. 

The normalcy of it all, the sheer mundane nature of life after the world had fallen apart, made you feel sick. No one was taking what you had reported earlier seriously. What if things were changing out there? Would all of this disappear? 

There was no other option but to keep your guard up and move forward, the smell of fried dough hitting you. You stopped at the same stall you have been stopping at for the past four years, Dickson’s. An old man, who had been this old since the day you met him, wrinkled and worn down. His spine curled like a cat's, hands covered in scars and callouses. 

“Well hello there soldier,” he rasped, his voice wheezy and dry like leaves in the wind. “How was afternoon patrol?” 

You sighed. “Hey, Dickson. It was… fine.” He eyed you. He had practically raised you during the times when you were kicked out of the barracks for misbehaviour. 

“Just fine?” 

“You know I’m not allowed to talk about it further.” 

“Oh I know,” he waved you off as he bent down slowly to retrieve a small satchel. Refined sugar. The one good thing about the Federation was the fact it had quickly spread itself into agricultural endeavours. Old Twin Falls was able to process the sugar beets that they grew. Granted the price was insanely high, but there was still sugar. “Teton’s been good?” 

You nodded handing him five meal tickets for some of them. “As good as he can, ornery fucker.” You rocked on your feet and you recounted the afternoon. “He’s been real steady round the guns lately, finally- think he won’t bolt anymore.”

Dickson laughed. “Only you would be able to get any use out of him. Swear that horse can read minds.” 

Suddenly, a little girl interrupted the two of you, her mother watching from a distance. Her hair was tied up in pigtails, looked to be about seven, her eyes wide with excitement.

“Excuse me, mister!” her voice chirped out. “Please can I get 500 grams of sugar please?” 

Dickson chuckled again, pulling out a 500-gram bag, and weighing it to confirm the amount. “Of course young lady. That will be 25 tickets, please.”

The girl looked confused, she had been told the amount would be less than that. Quickly she composed herself, ready to haggle with Dickson. Her mother wanted her to practise it seemed and Dickson was willing to be her first practice. When she finally got her target amount she handed him the tickets and skipped off back to her mom. 

Dickson watched as she left. “Sharp one. Reminds me of you at her age.” 

“Oh please. I was hardly that nice.” 

“Well now ain’t that the truth? You were a real shithead. Lucky you’re gifted or they would have kicked you out years ago. I damn near took you out myself one day.”  Dickson winked before he leaned in. “Now tell me, what can you share without getting in trouble?”

The sun dipped lower, the patrol moving onto the next street. Your voice dropped to a whisper. 

“The zombies, they’re…different. It took three bullets to the head for one to finally get down. It moved differently too. It only had a month or so before it became a sitting duck but it jerked around and moved with more speed than I’d ever seen before. Somethings happening out there Dickson.”  A new patrol rounded the corner. “I’ve gotta get going, but you take care of yourself. I’ve got a bad taste in my mouth and my head won’t stop pounding.”

Dickson studied you. He knew you were telling the truth, your eyes darting between him and the patrol. He added more auger to your satchel as he spoke. “You stay safe out there.”

You nodded and then slipped back out onto the promenade, ready to get back to your place and shower. There had been a renovation project a year back you had helped out on. By reclaiming parts of the old city, they had the resources to create private accommodations for the specialist division. Only military personnel were allowed to live in them due to their location at the very edge of the wall, which was still unfinished due to the expansion. The real benefit was the stable they had in the back, which you could lodge Teton in. The shower worked as well. They were always cold, but they were something. 

The motions of getting home, showering, dressing down out of uniform, and feeding yourself went by blurry, the exhaustion hitting you full force. You had danced with death many times, seen soldiers die as they were ripped apart by hordes like wild animals. Killing the zombies had been a near-everyday occurrence for you for nearly seven years now. In all that time you had never had something like today happen. All you could do was hope that it never happened again and it was just a fluke. 

───※ ·❆· ※───

Today you were assigned to the western patrol night shift for four days. Command had deemed you ineligible to return to the eastern patrol until you had proven to them that you weren’t losing your grip. Bullshit. You hadn’t lost anything, you knew what you saw but no one believed you. 

Night shift meant you had to sleep outside the walls as well at the outpost station. It was a half-bombed-out building the Federation had converted to watch over the trade route. The bunks there were cramped, pushed close together due to half the ceiling being gone, the stale with the scent of sweat and rations.

The twilight cast eerie shadows as you made your way on Teton, saddlebags packed full, the pit that had settled in your stomach four days ago when you were on the eastern patrol refused to leave. The one good thing about the Western Outpost is that you could sleep on top of the building if the weather was clear and stare at the stars. The death of mankind did allow for the galaxies to be seen again. 

When you got there and settled the lieutenant handing out patrols gave you a joke of one. He had heard about what you had reported and thought you were stupid. The route you had never had anything going on. The last time a zombie had been seen on it was three months ago. They deemed you jittery and fearful now. But something deep in your bones, older than the Federation, knew that what you had seen was real. You had sensed the shift, the whispers in the winds, a chilling awareness chewing at the back of your skull. For a people so hellbent on keeping gifted in their ranks they sure didn’t take one seriously. 

The patrol was just as uninteresting as you expected. The nothingness of it made it more nerve-wracking if anything. The whispers might have been faint four days ago but the volume was building. 

The next two days passed without incident but the unease never left. Every night that the sun dipped below the horizon, the long shadows blending into each other, the whispers intensified. They became a tangible hum, pawing and pulling at you. You had tried speaking with the other gifted stationed at the outpost but they looked at you like you were crazy. No one else had felt or seen anything different. 

Nightfall came again. Teton whinnied softly as you mounted him, ready to get the final patrol done, his ears swirling, listening out for any sudden noises. The route was now known by heart, each curve in the road familiar. Once you were done with this patrol hopefully you could go back to being on the western patrol. 

Tonight felt worse. A sick, twisting feeling, circling you and settling into the ground. Your head felt like it was going to burst, eyes popping from their sockets from the pressure. Everything in you was screaming to run, to get far away from this place, to hide. The saddlebags had extra rations in them, your paranoia made you keep adding to them. 

They said there was nothing like a bond between man and his horse, and Teton’s eyes reflected your fear. His usual temperament had shifted to being nervous, his ears pinned back, nostrils flaring. He felt it too, the unseen danger that was building around you.

Panic squeezed its cold hands around your throat, threatening to close your airways and leave you for dead. Your grip on the reins was tight, knuckles white, as Teton moved forward. The night was dark, the whispers deafening, but you were armed and ready. 

The first hour of the route was calm. No surprises or action, just stillness. The feeling of being watched, someone peering over your shoulder as you went, was neverending. There was something out there, watching you, toying with you. 

The second hour passed by with no reprieve, only a suffocating repetition of the calm, still night. You were unable to find any peace in doing the route, instead only spiralling further with your speculations. What was out there watching you? Each rustle of the leaves, the movement of animals, and the occasional gunshot made you jump, your skin crawling. 

It was only halfway through the third hour, when the route led you back to having a view of the outpost and the walls of the city, that you saw it. The outpost was burning, the flames bright and high, a funeral pyre. From the distance, you could see people fighting, the gunshots now accounted for. You reeled, trying to dissect the scene, the whispers now screaming. 

Was this it? Was this what you have picked up on? A desperate urge to turn and flee spread throughout you, but you knew you couldn’t. You were duty-bound to join the ranks and fight. 

Teton whinnied, refusing to move forward as your heels dug into his flank. 

“Teton c’mon, we have to go.” 

He neighed, bucking up and he turned away from the outpost. “Teton no! We have to go back there.” 

It was as you turned him back around, his winny frantic, a large deafening boom rang out. It came from the city walls, a section collapsing from the attack. Now it made sense. The outpost was a distraction, meant to draw the defences away from the walls so they could attack it. But the noise was what threw you off, zombies went towards the sound, so why would they bomb the wall? 

Then, all at once, a horde screamed in the distance, thousands of undead moving towards the cause of the sound. Your blood ran cold, and the pressure in the back of your skull felt like your head was being pressed by hydraulic plates. You leaned off to the side of Teton and heaved, bile burning the back of your throat. You needed to leave, get as far away as you could. There was no helping anyone inside the walls now. The city was doomed. 

The evacuation point was only 500 feet away from you. There was doubt any other soldier would be there now, and anyone who had escaped would be in danger. They needed help. 

As you tightened your grip on the reins, urging Teton towards the evacuation point, the gravity of the situation began pressing down you you, threatening to crush you if not for the adrenaline course through your veins. The screams grew louder the more time passed and the longer the attack went on. 

Teton’s hooves were heavy on the pavement, normally a gallop like this would have them ring out like thunder, but in the chaos of the night, they fell silent. The air was growing thick with the scent of smoke, burning wood and flesh. 

The evacuation point was just ahead of you, around 30 people had made it there. It was empty of any fellow soldiers, no doubt everyone else had run towards the city. 

Disregarding protocol, you yelled at the group of survivors, telling them to get further away from the city. That there was no hope there. As you did so, a scream came from behind you, so loud that you felt your eardrums burst and blood trickle out from them. 

The people in front of you screamed, scrambling to run away from what they saw behind you as you spun Teton around, horror seeping into your bones from the noise. 

It was a mutant. They were thought to be rare in this area, part of why the Federation had settled here. Its body was contorted and deformed, its limbs too long in comparison, twisted at unnatural angles. The skin it had left was peeling off, revealing a purple shiny oozy leaking out of it. It had no eyes, flesh had grown over it and fused it into a mask. 

It reeked, the smell of death permeating as it screamed again. 

You unholstered your handgun, training kicking in, and fired a shot at its chest. The bullet sunk into its skin, but the creature didn’t stop moving, it was like the bullet did nothing to it, it simply staggered for a moment, the oozy substance leaking out of the entry wound, reacted to the bullet. The wound closed up as the goo filled the hole and hardened. 

It turned its head to face you, pinpointing your location from the gunshot, clicking its tongue repeatedly, interrupted by short screams. Ice ran through you, your hand clammy, goosebumps covering every inch of skin. There was a very real chance that your gun would do nothing to stop the mutant. 

Frantic, you kicked at Teton’s side. He moved quickly, well aware of the danger you were in. A handgun didn’t do shit against it. There was 50 feet between it and you, and a crowd of people 50 feet behind you. 

Desperate you led Teton away from the crowd, shooting the Glock in the air to keep the mutant's attention, to make it follow you. You could hear its joint snap as it spurred into action, chasing you down. It clicks and screams growing louder the closer it got.

The side streets were a maze, the terrain made rough by the decay over the years. Teton was managing the best he could, jumping over a car in the middle of the road at one point. Your heart sat in your throat, its beating making breathing hard. The pressure on your head felt so great that it was going to crack in two. 

As you rounded a corner, sharp and fast trying to break its line of sight, the mutant rammed into a wall.  It slowed but the chase continued until you hit a more open area. When you looked over your shoulder, the mutant wasn’t behind you. 

Before you could question it, an impact hit you from the side, knocking you off of Teton and flat onto your back. The wind was knocked out of you as you hit the ground, rocks stabbing into your back. Gasping for breath you struggled to regain yourself as the pain shot through you. Your fingers dug into the pavement, cutting on the rough edges of the cracks, as you rolled over to your front, crawling forward. Blood trickled down your face and into your eyes. As you pushed yourself up you heard it. Click. Click. Click.

By instinct you reached for your handgun, only to find it was knocked away from you in the fall. 

The ooze leaking out of the mutant glowed faintly in the moonlight as it charged at you. Teton rushed at the creature, rearing up and knocking the zombie down with his front hooves. It allowed you to pull your knife out of the sheath at your side, spring to your feet, and move to attack. 

While the zombie was disoriented, its clicks gargled, you lunged at it. Your knife cut through the air before hitting its right shoulder. The ooze once again leaked out and harder around the wound. The only way you’d be able to kill this thing was through decapitating it. 

The mutant retaliated, swiftly, its partially healed arm swinging out, trying to scratch you. You managed to dodge it, stepping back away from it, but as it attacked you the ooze splashed onto your face. It burned as it settled on your skin. 

It swung again and you sidestepped it. The movement allowed you to strike it again, this time aiming for the neck. The attack connected, perforated blade sawing through part of the fresh, but stopping short of the vertebrae. The ooze sprayed out once again, some landing in your eyes. 

Blinking rapidly you readied yourself again as, despite the injury, the mutant didn’t stop. You had to get a full cut before it was able to heal the wound. 

With grim determination you swung again, this time aiming for the opposite side of the neck. The blow was strong enough that you felt the muscles in your shoulder tear slightly at the impact. But the creature still stood, clicking at you, the sounds muffled and gurgled by the liquid now spilling out of its mouth as it attempted to heal. The bone was still intact. 

With a scream you kicked the zombie back, making it stumble over rubble and fall down. You were swift, placing one foot on its chest while you bent down and grabbed it by the head. 

Its clawed fingers dug at your calves, digging into them and leaving wounds. The shimmering liquid escaping from its wounds and mouth smeared across your front as you fought to maintain control. 

You gritted your teeth as you forced yourself to ignore the pain and to pull upwards with all your strength. The bones in its neck resisted the tension, the ooze running down the bone and hardening to try and keep it intact. 

With a sickening crack, the vertebrae gaw way. You fell back as the head broke free in your hands, the mutant’s body convulsed in front of you, joints snapping at unnatural angles as it flailed. You threw the head to the side, the final clicks dying out at it lulled against the pavement, the shimmer from the ooze fading. 

Teton snorted as he came up behind you, attempting to nudge you up and to move.

Every part of you hurt. The wounds on your calves burned, and blood started to coagulate already. It was far too soon for the wound to be doing that. The muscles in your shoulder felt like they were repairing themselves the longer you sat there. Your eyes burned, a mix of your own blood from a head wound you got from the initial fall, dirt, and the liquid from the zombie stinging them. Strangely, the pounding in your head felt lighter, less urgent. Like being in contact with that thing had helped.

You wanted to scream and cry, to throw yourself against the ground and cry. But you couldn’t. You had survived it, but there was so much more still happening in the city. You couldn’t go back there, you’d be no help to anyway in your current state. The best you could do was go help the survivors and make sure those at the evac point had gotten away safely. 

You hauled yourself up, pulling against Teton’s saddle to do so, a goan tearing out from your throat. Teton lowered himself so you could mount him more easily. Things were never going to be the same after tonight.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Only 5 people had survived besides you. What they told you had happened was devastating. It had been the Followers again, this time with heavier ammunition than they had ever had before. They said that they had control over the horde as well. Could control them like puppets. Now they partied in the remnants of the city. 

The survivors said they were going to go north, to Old Twin Falls, and warn them, begged for you to come with them. There were no military personnel besides you there to guide them. You didn’t know if it was pity or guilt but you did. First, you had to sneak into the outpost. They had left that for the city itself. There you stocked up on more ammo, rations, and a first aid kit. Luckily one of the group was a nurse trainee and able to bandage up the cuts and bruises people had. When she looked you over on the second day of the journey your wounds had mostly healed. 

The saving grace had been the ammunition. It was still limited, but it was 75 rounds for the Glock 17 and 200 for the Ruger. The group would have to move quickly, and quietly. By some universally divine intervention, a paddock of horses had remained untouched as well, with a cart there. This allowed you to fit the two people too injured to walk in the cart. Perhaps you weren’t shit out of luck yet. 

The road to Old Twin Falls was something you knew by heart, having run it eleven times in your life. You had never had to lead a group there, but you had been there. It wouldn’t be an easy journey, through the mountains and desert, but it could be done. It was fall so the weather was neither too hot nor too cold, the only worry being the nights. But with enough dry sagebrush and tumbleweeds, you made fires. The issue was that the route had suffered damage from a storm that had passed through the third day of your journey.

It took eleven days to go the 225 miles, stopping frequently for breaks. There had been a few encounters with zombies, mainly in the ruins of old cities, but they were small enough groups you were able to take them out or avoid them. 

The days were long but the nights were longer. Finally seeing the walls of Old Twin Falls was like getting into bed after a long day, your joints achy and painful, the exhaustion seeping out of you and into the bedding. The relief of getting off your feet after standing for hours. 

When you approached the gates, the guards had their weapons drawn, ready to fire. Their uniforms looked different from how you remembered them. 

“Identify yourself or we will shoot!”

Your voice was hoarse, dry and sandy from the lack of water you had in the final stretch of the journey. “Capitol Lake Special Taskforce Private Y/N L/N reporting.” 

“Capitol Lake?” The man in charge lowered his gun, the others following suit. 

“Yes sir, Capitol Lake. Behind me is a group of survivors remaining after an attack by the Followers of the Prophet.” 

There was a pause, minutes passing, turning into an entirety, as reports and information were exchanged up in the watch towers. 

“Come inside Private, there is much to discuss.” 

The relief washing over you almost made you collapse, its warm and heavy feeling blanketing over you with the promise of rest. The tension carried in your whole body, tight with having the ensure the survival of the people behind you, slipping away with every creak of the heavy gate opening. You ushered them forward, each one of their expressions haunted, changed by what had happened. 

The guards, their initial hostility now gone, quickly organised proper transport for the injured, taking them to the medical centre. The familiar and comforting smell of smoke and metal hits you. In the distance, you could hear what you knew to be the market street. Thighs were normal here, calm, spared from the madness that had happened at Capitol Lake. 

The officers had led you to the medical centre and told you that you’d need to speak with their commanding officer. There was a brief mention of how things had changed in Old Twin Falls in the past three months since the last trade run, but no one was clear with you on what had changed. But that would be tomorrow's task. For now, you let yourself get poked and prodded by the attending doctor before passing out after they injected you with morphine. 

©️ uzuzrimisery

#uzuri writes #at the edge of the world #ateotw #choso kamo #choso imagine #choco kamo imagine #choco kamo x reader #choso x reader #choso kamo smut #jjk imagine #jjk imagine smut

[masterqwertster]

#33. Power Word: Pain, with Orym.

Maybe a capture and interrogation situation? Getting thrown back into a cell afterward with a couple of protective friends would be nice too. 🥺

Ah, yes. The torture spell.

33 Power Word: Pain

You speak a word of power that causes waves of intense pain to assail one creature you can see within range. If the target has 100 hit points or fewer, it is subject to crippling pain. Otherwise, the spell has no effect on it. A target is also unaffected if it is immune to being charmed.

While the target is affected by crippling pain, any speed it has can be no higher than 10 feet. The target also has disadvantage on attack rolls, ability checks, and saving throws, other than Constitution saving throws. Finally, if the target tries to cast a spell, it must first succeed on a Constitution saving throw, or the casting fails and the spell is wasted.

A target suffering this pain can make a Constitution saving throw at the end of each of its turns. On a successful save, the pain ends.

The worst part about the spell Orym's been afflicted with is that the pain is, quite literally, all in his head.

So when he's returned to the cell, the interrogation session concluded, there's no wound to sooth in the aftermath. Well, not beyond the superficial scratches and bruises from his pained writhing. And yet the ghost of that intense pain lingers, bolstered by the knowledge that it can revisit him every day, every eight hours, sooner if they have enough mages with the spell.

As he lays there, breathing, a fairly large rat scurries up. And it's strange. He could almost swear there's moss in its fur-

Suddenly Fearne is in the cell with him.

"Hey, best friend," she whispers, stroking his sweaty face.

"Hey, Fearnie," Orym sighs back, a smile gracing his lips. He'd honestly expected to hear Bells Hells coming for him before he actually saw them.

"Let's get you out of here," Fearne says, ruffling his hair. Orym gives a lolling nod in reply. "This might be a little weird, but just trust me, okay?"

Orym nods again. He trusts Fearne. Trusts her with his life. (Though not with shiny objects)

Warm, fey magic washes over him and Orym doesn't resist.

When he blinks his eyes open, the world is even bigger than usual. Fearne's hooves are bigger than him right now.

"I don't know how much you can understand me right now, but just stick with me, okay?" Fearne whispers, crouched down by her mouse-ified friend.

With another twist of magic, Fearne's own form collapses back into a rat. A little sniffing and whisker touching to help assure mouse-Orym that it's alright, and then she scurries off with him right on her tail.

It doesn't take them long at all to make their escape. No one is looking for a pair of rodents, after all.

Once Fearne has guided Orym back to where the rest of Bells Hells are hidden in an alleyway with view of the building he was held captive in, she drops both polymorph and her own wild shape. It only takes a moment to scoop Orym into her arms for a cuddle as the others gather around in a defensive formation.

"Not to be ungrateful or anything," Orym mumbles out to the group, "but I really didn't expect you guys to stealth a rescue."

"Eh, we just figured it'd be easier to get rid of them all by blowing up the building. Which meant we had to get you out first," Chetney explains with a shrug.

"Speaking of. Laudna," Ashton says, pacing to the end of the alley with the undead sorceress on their heels.

Orym watches as Ashton stills on the edge of the street, fiddling with the position of their recently upgraded hammer. After a few moments of eyeing and adjusting, they give Laudna a thumbs up.

Laudna's hands twist in a spell as she chants lowly before a bead of fiery light shoots forth from her hands, passing through the crystalline additions to the hammer, resulting in a truly enormous fireball.

Ashton and Chet both whistle in appreciation at the destruction caused as Laudna giddily claps her hands and Fearne gives an awed 'ooooh.'

Orym... thinks he's glad that his friends are on his side. Because they are obviously terrifying arsonists when left to their own devices.

The fireball idea came from this post. Who knows if this is how it would actually work, but it's fun to pretend!

#MQ&A #MQfic #critical role #orym of the air ashari #bells hells #spell hurt/comfort prompt

[21st-century-ninja]

🎵 Constant by House of Heroes

hiiiiiiii nutmeg u definitely did not put this ask in my inbox on June 25th of last year!!!!! :D :D :D

sdfkdghlsjf i finally made myself sit down and write the last part of this and i think it turned out pretty fun so I hope you enjoy!

Constant

setting: ns1, ns8, ns16 characters: Lloyd, Gamadon wc: 999 words other tags: angst, h/c (maybe???), golden master!lloyd on ao3 here

"You're leaving."

It's not a question or an accusation.  It's just a statement, as true and as obvious as the bunk beds around them and the Fangblades a floor above and the shuddering wood beneath their feet.

Garmadon turns.  Lloyd stands a step away, hands balled into fists, eyes fixed somewhere near Garmadon's chest.

Heavily, Garmadon sets his bag on the bed.  Completely, he turns to face Lloyd, even as every instinct tells him to go.   "You're safe," he says.  "That's all I ever cared about.  That's only why I came back -- for you, son."

"So stick around for me too!" Lloyd blurts.  "What good is coming back just if you abandon me again?"

Garmadon's heart sinks.  Lloyd's expression changes.  His shoulders slump and his white-knuckled fists relax almost like they're letting go.  "There's no stopping you, huh."

"The evil in my blood demands it," Garmadon says.  It's an excuse.  It's not.  Even now, it churns within him, demanding him to hurt and harm and destroy.

A hand covers one of his.  Garmadon blinks back into focus.  Lloyd's fingers squeeze tight around his.  

"You came back for me," he says, suddenly fierce.  "That means there's got to be light in you, too, right?"  He drops Garmadon's hand and steps back, resolute.  "And if that means we've got to fight --"  He exhales harshly.  "If that means we've got to fight, then I'm gonna do everything in my power to defeat you."

Garmadon sinks to the ground.  Like this, his son's head is nearly equal in height to his own.  When did he grow so big? he wonders.  When was the last time I carried him?

When will I not be able to?

Lloyd meets his eyes squarely.  Despite it, tears mar the corners of his.  Gently, Garmadon lifts one clawed fingertip and catches them on the tip.  

"I know," he says, hushed.  "I know.  I wouldn't have it any other way."

Slowly, Lloyd grins a watery grin.  

"Promise?" he whispers.

And:

"Promise," Garmadon says.

---

There is strength in the boy.  Garmadon will give him that.

He takes another blast of energy to his shoulder, a wince that quickly turns into a grin as his power feeds on the fight.  The green ninja springs out of the way of his counterattack.  Fire shines in his eyes as he pulls away, as bright and burning as the golden power that was his demise the first time around.  He smears the back of his hand against his mouth; it comes away bloody from the cut on his lip.

He looks wild.  Feral, with the blood staining his teeth and jaw.

But the words that come tumbling from his mouth, the platitudes and pleas and whines- whatever strength the boy might have is rendered useless by his heart.

A pitiful thing, human hearts are.  Garmadon is glad to have been purified of his by his resurrection.  

Destruction boils at his fingertips.  He focuses it into another blast that sends the boy into the wall.  When he tries to stand, Garmadon punches down with a destruction-strengthened hand.  The boy collapses back to the ground with a choking cry.

Garmadon strides over to where he lies.  Bending one knee, he kneels beside him.  One green eye slips open and follows his movement.  The boy tries to say something.  It comes out in broken wheezes.  

"You," he gasps, eye trembling, searching Garmadon's face.  "Father -- light -- you--"

Garmadon's hand snaps out.  The boy gurgles as fingers close around his neck.  He thrashes weakly, but Garmadon lifts him as easily as one might a particularly pesky rodent.  His claws catch on sensitive skin; blood beads and slides down his neck like a stain.

Good.  Garmadon tilts the boy's chin up, up into the spotlight beam of the prison security and the eyes of the world.  

"There is no light in me," he hisses.  "The man you are searching for is dead."

When he pours power into his arm this time, the world erupts in purple fire.

---

There had been a legend once.  There had been a legend of one who would hold the powers of the First Spinjitzu Master, who would unite them with the element of destruction, who would bring about the end of the world as it was known.

Once, he'd assumed with everyone else that the legend was fulfilled in the Overlord's short-lived reign over New Ninjago City.

Now, burning in the rage of the supernova before him, Garmadon wonders how they ever thought that weakling could have been this.

His arm, broken and mangled, straightens itself.  Another one sprouts from his elbow, and another from his ribcage.  The sphere around Lloyd warps, concrete buildings bursting into flowers before melting like lava and flying back together in shards of glass.  

Creation and destruction, harnessed in one body.  The total ability to destroy and reshape the world at his will.  

Garmadon struggles to his feet.  Lloyd's eyes raise like empty floodlights.  They lock onto Garmadon, and energy deluges upon him like a hurricane.  His skin flakes.  Forms rise from the darkness around him: wisps of gray hair, visages of pale skin, sense memories of creaking joints and aching bones.  

Garmadon screams.  He takes a step.  Another.  Feeling disappears from his legs.  He pulls his arms close to his chest and runs.  

His body connects.  

He throws Lloyd to the ground, and the light around them bursts like a lightbulb.  

Garmadon blinks bright spots away.  Feeling, pain, rushes back into his body as Lloyd snarls beneath him.  He digs his claws in and shifts, planting one knee on Lloyd's chest and bracing his other foot on the ground.  

"Once," he snaps, "you made me promise to hold onto whatever light might still be inside me.  And damn it, Lloyd, but now you have to too!"

Lloyd screams.  Garmadon flies back, smashing into a wall.  Through spinning eyes, he sees as Lloyd stalks closer.  

Garmadon musters a grin.  "Everything in my power," he says.

Shouting, he charges forward again.

#fic #my fic #ninjago #lloyd #garmadon #hi res garmy #golden master!lloyd #999 follower event #this is why ive been golden master posting btw lol

[thatkinkyautistic]

Some more assorted rodent stim toys,plus two bonus unrelated diy stim toys. The beaded rat is also a diy,I made all three of those diy toys for myself. I just finished making the rat tonight! Super proud of how he turned out.

Rat plushie was custom made for me/commissioned by me,seller is citrine mouse.

-🐶⚛

#text #pic #autismposting #ratposting #plushie #squishies #beaded fidget #diy fidget #pony bead pet #roller bead fidget #handmade stim toys #weighted stim toy #hot wheels #sliding fidget #rat stim toys #stim toy collection #stim toy #stim toys #fidgets #fidget #fidget toy #fidget toys

[thatferrybroad]

Making a new post for this now that the search function has been fixed (thanks, @staff!)

I stared at the white leather clad rodent, absently recognizing my “lost” gardening glove in the floral pattern of their armor. I shook my head while moving on autopilot as Ser Thomasina yowled in my wake, my slipper sending a broken yellow shard of plastic  skittering somewhere into the kitchen. 

Placing the mouse in a tall, empty beading container I’d intended to recycle took enough care and time that I faintly heard it’s chittering voice; but, with my hearing aid charging on the shelf the faint squeaks barely contrasted from my usual tinnitus. Whether irate or merely terrified, I scarcely knew- hard to tell when your conversation partner is about four inches tall.

After a moment of bustling in my dusty craft-but-now-mostly-tea room (and making sure Ser Thomasina was safely shut out) the poor creature panted with their back to the corner of the glass. I slapped my forehead, disgusted with my rusty triage skills. A bottle cap of water lowered in with a pair of chopsticks remained un-trusted for several seconds, but thirst won out. Amid clearing my workstation, I glanced closer at the towel I deposited them with and frowned, a few little beacons of red blazed on the teal terrycloth. I folded it over and put it on the shelf right above my work desk.

Though a ferocious paw batted underneath the door, I managed to make a brief trip to the restroom to retrieve the first aid kit without the instigator in this whole situation managing to sneak by me- better yet, I tricked her into getting shut in the bathroom by throwing a roll of toilet paper in the corner for her to destroy.

“Little shit. You’re not getting salmon treats for a week.” I glowered at the retreating shadow under the door only to turn and see the mouse attempting to escape. They stared wide eyed at me, their broken sword between their teeth and their paws planted on either side of the glass- still a good five inches from the lip of the container. I tried to suppress a giggle, but from their scowl I didn’t succeed.

“Aheh… sorry. You just looked so shocked. Hang on.” I ripped a packet of gauze open and put a tiny dot of antiseptic on it. “I know it’s too big, but stopping the bleeding is most important. I’ll cut you some smaller strips in a bit.”

I must have shocked them from their silent blinking. I sighed. It took some time once more for my unsteady hand to lower it down with the chopsticks and avoid dislodging them. They leaned away from it all the same, watching me askance. Glad that at least they understood me, I prattled on a bit about my hearing aid being out of power, then about how to avoid Ser Thomasina, all the while gathering an old sewing kit and tin snips while my soldering iron heated up.

“You and yours are the ones who ate my Jack'o'lantern the past five years, huh?” They didn’t squeak, finally descending the glass walls, but avoided my eyes. “Well, better than letting it moulder but next time could you wait to eat the design until after Haloween?” Surly, they made no gesture. I squinted at them, then changed the subject.

“So… that claw necklace. Is it a… standard, like an emblem? Or is it a personal item?” They looked up at me, squeaked something, then chittered inaudibly in frustration and held up one tiny digit on their paw, then clasped that paw in salute to their chest.

“Would you consider yourself honorable?” They tried to stand on their haunches but, with a pained squeak, sat back, clasped the claw to their chest and stared proudly at me.

“If I pick you up, and promise not to drop you, will you swear on that claw not to bite me?” Some chittering and tiny huffing later, they seemed to grumble and clasp the claw again, nodding. Delicately as I could, I tipped the container slightly and retrieved the anxious mouse, cap and gauze. I deposited them on the clean side of the tea towel, refilling the spilled water, which soon vanished as well.

“Well then… are you hungry?”

A hesitant nod.

My soldering iron chose that moment to flash it’s indicator LED, I left it where it lay a moment and ripped a chunk of oatmeal bar off to hand it over. 

They watched it for a long, hungry beat as they wiped antiseptic off their paws and cleaned themself; but only grasped it once I took a bite of the remaining bar. I watched the small creature eat for a second, waiting for it to stop shoving it’s cheeks full of oats and dried apple.

“You can rest here for a bit, I have something I need to do. When I’m done I’ll take you safely to the back yard, okay?” The mouse wiped sticky crumbs from its mouth to squint at me. They clasped the claw once more then held their fist to their chest, turning tiny black expectant eyes to me. I mimicked them, nodding. “Scout’s honor, I will.” Satisfied, the mouse dug in properly to their meal, sleepiness already wilting their posture.

I fell silent: getting to work with a thumbtack, an old mints tin, a steel barrette bar, scraps of beading wire, a single garnet bead, and an over-sized button blank. They made no further attempts to run away, one furtive glance half an hour in to my work revealing them slumped on the towel, fast asleep with the chunk of oatmeal bar still clutched in their paw. I smiled, working quietly as possible.

My magnified clamp positioner tool saved me about twenty three headaches as I tinkered and reinforced, filed and awl punched, sketched and painted, soldered and sealed. It took a long handled pair of tweezers and a clutch length of washi tape to tightly wind nigh paper-thin slivers of kidskin around a tiny glue-covered handle before I mounted it on the newly reinforced button blank. I took twenty more minutes to wind the same material under the infinitesimal cage of beading wire and around the handle of the smallest sword I had ever seen, let alone made. I had to slide it into the red and white patterned sheath with those same damn tweezers, just to make sure I didn’t mess up the sharpened edges.

By the time I snipped some mouse-sized bandages with medical tape, rubbed away my last hand cramp and made a cup of tea, my guest finally began to stir. I quickly folded the paper towel over that the the tiny set of equipment rested on and waited for it to wake up fully.  They yawned, showing their incisors as they stretched, caught themself, then winced, remembering their trying day. I poured a spoonful of tea into the empty cap from my own cup. They sniffed, flicked their ears up in surprise, took a lick, then a taste, then drank it in one long draw.  I put a stern face on, covering my bemusement at their taste matching mine, and kept it on as they re-bandaged themself. 

“Ok, here’s the deal. Ser Thomasina- the monstrous little shit that you broke your sword fighting against- is here to stay.” They flinched back and I held up my hands. “They’re an indoor cat, and you are on her- what am I saying? You are on MY territory. She’s a little shit, but she’s my little shit, she’s staying, and if you try to fight her, we’re going to have problems, understand?” I waited for their hesitant nod before I continued. “I’m going to do my best to keep her inside- there’s ky-yotes out there and she’s a dumb little baby fuzzball so that’s safer for her anyway.” I steeled myself to stop rambling, taking a sharp breath and sighing. “Look, my point is, I swear to keep her away from you and yours- IF you swear you and yours will keep away from her. No antagonizing her, no fighting under any circumstance- and no more of this getting in the house nonsense! If you need… some kind of shelter we can work something out, but-” I stopped, realizing they had begun to panic, cleaning themself repeatedly. 

“This is all above your paygrade, huh?”

Nod.

“Is there a…. an elder or some kind of leader that could make decisions like this?”

Nod, nod.

“Uh… Well I guess… I guess we can work something out later, but for now You can just be the messenger, ok?”

Relieved nod. 

“I… Ok.” I shifted gears, thinking a moment, then grabbed a sticky note, then stopped.

“… No offense, but can you all read English?” Their glare was enough to curdle milk, let alone get the point across. I mumbled a, “Didn’t want to presume” and wrote the following, as tiny as my shaky hands could manage under the tiny warrior’s scrutiny.

1. Don’t bother my cat, don’t even come near her! I can maybe give you her shed claws but for now just leave her alone!

2. Keep out of the house! If you’re living in some part of the house, I have a problem with this- BUT… I can help you build something better out in the forest beyond my yard. I love to make model houses. I will leave examples in the yard for you under the patio for your approval.

3. Don’t eat my pumpkins until after Halloween (If we need to discuss some kind of signal, I can work with that.)

4. NO MORE STEALING THINGS!!!! ASK NICELY!!!

5. Don’t expect any fancy gifts beyond this, you can take care of yourselves.

I rolled up the notes and put them in an old mechanical pencil lead container, suddenly glad for all my minor hoarding tendencies, and handed it to my tiny guest. They looked at me in wonder as I considered how to word our next communication, but thankfully I saw my hearing aid had charged amidst my crafting. I put it in, then looked at the pensive rodent.  “Let’s get going.” I held out one hand, packing the paper towel hiding the gear carefully into my pocket with the other. This time, They hesitated only a second. If I saw them clutch my thumb and tremble while we passed the bathroom door and Ser Thomasina’s yowling, I didn’t comment on it.

The sliding door usually took two hands, and thus took four fold the energy and time to open with one, especially while keeping the little knight safe and my hand un-clenched. Finally, out under the patio roof, I carefully sat down on the steps, my slippers slushing into the evening dew gathered in the grass. I looked down, wishing I’d made a point to ask their name earlier, but then this entire matter had been so surreal, I suppose manners could be excused. Asking now felt too strange as I lowered them to the grass

“Do you swear on that claw to personally keep to everything I asked?” The mouse looked down at the crumbs of oatmeal still caught on their armor, then at their bandaged leg. They met my eyes, took the claw from heir neck and gingerly knelt to squeak the tiniest, gravest “I do so swear.” I had ever heard.

“Then this is yours, and no one else’s unless they make that same vow.” I revealed the tiny sword and shield from my pocket, wishing I had the manual dexterity to be fancy about it- but the shock on the mouse’s face was well worth all the effort. I chuckled, rubbing my sore hands on my half-sore knees. I hadn’t been able to disguise the mints tin origin of the sheath without paint, so I tried to match the colors of their armor.  The claw design and mouse profile on the shield were both a bit smudgy, but considering the scale I didn’t feel too ashamed. I was especially proud of the tiny garnet mounted in the pommel of the barette sword, their admiration gave me a sense of pride I hadn’t felt in years.

“Don’t let any gnats roost in that mouth you’re airing, you’ve got important messages to deliver, go on now.” Grateful my eyesight yet remained, I pretended not to notice the mist rising in their eyes. They nodded, unable to squeak, and bounded off towards the gutter on the house. 

They stopped just before they rounded the corner, turned, and gave me one last salute.

I answered in kind, smiling, knowing the next few months would be strange indeed.

#my writing

[leeltalk]

A More Complete History of America

Section 1 - When to Begin?

Folsom, Clovis and The First Debate

Part 2 - Clovis

There is some dispute on the true type site of the predecessor of Folsom. The Type Site, the first site to be formally described to a scientific audience, often dictates naming rights. This leads to some academic saltiness and state rivalry. In the interest of fairness, we’ll actually start in Colorado.

Along the South Platte River, southwest of the small town of Milliken, Colorado once stood the Dent Railroad Depot. In 1932, strong Spring rains exposed several very large bones in a sandstone gully west of the tracks.

The son of the Depot’s manager informed his geology professor, Jesuit priest Conrad Bilgery. He took some of his students to the site in September of that year, where Father Bilgery determined the bones were that of a mammoth and contacted Jesse D. Figgins.

Yes. The same Figgins that was the Director of the Colorado Museum of Natural History.

Figgens sent a museum staff member to excavate the remains, though Father Bilgery and his students were allowed to assist. In the end, 13 partial skeletons from 5 adult females and 8 young mammoths were sent to Denver, along with two intact stone points.

Figgins published the find in the Proceedings of the CMNH in 1933 - the museum bulletin essentially - describing the points as belonging to a Late Ice Age culture.

Sadly, internal museum publications don’t count. I don’t make the rules.

In 1929, EB Howard was part of Alden Mason’s Southwestern Expeditions as a representative of the University Museum of Philadelphia. They had come to the Guadalupe Mountains west of Carlsbad, NM to search for archaeological sites, and were quickly directed by local Bill Burnet to a cave locally known for its artifacts.

It's unclear how long the predominantly white local population had known about the cave. Burnet reported it had once been sealed, but he and his brother had busted through the stacked stone wall. At some point, they had dug 3 or 4 holes,each about a yard deep. Beads, pieces of sandals, hide, and several baskets, one containing charred bones (which may have been human remains as cremation was practiced in the region at various times in the past) were all removed.

Still, the site was relatively intact. The pits had been dug straight down, and, aside from stones and debris being moved at the surface, most of the ground appeared undisturbed.

Excavations began in 1930. As Howard and the team had hoped, by the time their trench hit that 3 ft deep mark, they were in undisturbed soils. Like most caves and rock shelters, Burnet had little stratigraphy, or distinct soil layers, to go off of and they were about 30 years from widespread radiometric dating, so they attempted to date the cave using the common method of the day: identifying Cultural Horizons.

This meant, quite simply, looking at whatever turned up in their trench and trying to identify the age of that layer by the artifacts it contained. More baskets, sandals and bags found in those between about 1.5 and 3ft down indicated a Basketmaker Culture (an uncreatively named Pueblo precursor). They found several burials, which were likely the reason the cave had been sealed.

Above the Basketmaker layers were no distinctive artifacts beyond what had been scattered near the surface by looting. Again, the fact that the cave had been closed off to all but pack rats and other rodents had stopped later people from using it.

It was about 2 feet below the burials, however, that EB Howard made a more unexpected discovery. Among the bones of bison and musk-ox, some of them charred, were thick lenses of ash and charcoal. Hearths. Along one of these rested a fluted stone point that Howard described as Folsom-like. Several bone awls for sewing hides or making beads were also recovered.

Howard was very careful in his initial report of the site in 1931. He made a point of describing the interior of the cave, its geology, condition, and included multiple sketches of the layout. He reiterated that the cave had been sealed, hiding it for generations. He discussed how pack rats could have gotten in and built nests and middens at the surface, but that there was no evidence of burrowing or middens near the remains or below them. It was doubtful, Howard expressed, that the stone point or awls could have been deposited so deep by rodents.

EB Howard took that point to the 1931 Pecos Conference. Among the people he showed it to was Frank Roberts of the Smithsonian.

Cannon AFB was once a small local airstrip. By the early 1930s, it had been named the Clovis Air Field and was expanding. Some of the gravel for the new road construction came from nearby Black Water Draw, a seasonally dry valley crossed by small channels from the infrequent rains located along the Llano Estacado Plateau. The Dustbowl had already stripped away some of the surface layers, and while quarrying workmen revealed, you guessed it, large animal bones. They also turned up a large tooth and a stone point.

In 1932, as he was finishing work at Burnet Cave, it came to the attention of EB Howard that points like those at Folsom had been found in the area. He and his team swung by Clovis to look around, guided by locals AW Anderson and George Roberts, who themselves had taken a keen interest in the site.

The first point had been found by a workman with the gravel company, along with a mammoth tooth, when they had first reached the blue-gray layer at the gravel pit. This was the point that George Roberts had notified Howard about. Roberts had secured the point from the workman and shown it to Howard when he arrived in Clovis.

“The workman, whose honesty I do not question, showed me the spot where he had ploughed up the tooth and this artifact, and there is no doubt in my own mind that they both came from the blue sand on the west side of the gravel pit.” EB Howard

The point itself had been broken long ago, before the workman had uncovered it, as evidenced by the lime crust and was similar to the points from Folsom and about 4 inches long and 2 ¼ in wide, and “extraordinarily thin - ⅛ in at its maximum thickness”.

The summer field season was almost over, but Howard had the opportunity to explore Black Water Draw and view some of the artifacts and bones that had been found. That fall, machinery uncovered another mass of bones in a layer of blue-gray sands below the gravel layers.

Like at Burnet Cave, Howard made detailed notes of the site and its surroundings. Black Water Draw as a whole was dotted by the remains of ancient lakes, ponds and channels. On its western edge and near the Texas border, there were still a few alkali spring ponds. Likely, the Draw had once been a tributary of the nearby Brazos River, or at least drained into it. Where the gravel pits had been dug revealed a clear view of the geologic layers or strata to well below the bone bearing layers.

The bone layers, blue-gray sandy clay, were near, but not at the top. These were water deposited and held many species of diatoms, tiny water dwelling animals, which still live in fresh and saline waters. These diatoms, and the bones of the mammoths and bison, allowed Howard and his team to determine that the blue-gray sands had been deposited in the late Pleistocene, near the end of the Ice Age.

Howard could not begin a full excavation until the summer field season of 1933 and spent the next 4 years in Clovis. On the east side of the gravel pit a flint scraper and charcoal, presumably from a campfire, were among the bones of extinct bison, the first in situ objects found. More scrapers and knives were uncovered near the pit. In a section of Blackwater Draw Howard named the Anderson Lakes, a thick lense-shaped layer of charcoal contained the charred bones of bison (found all over the Lakes), small mammals and birds and a selection of blades and shapers. None of the Anderson Lakes artifacts appeared to be of the “Folsom-type”, even though they came from the same deposits of blue-gray sands.

No mention of a new “Clovis-type” appears in Howard's 1935 report. Instead it included a great deal of discussion of the geology, such as the diatom studies, and theories of how such a site could have come to be. It's here that Howard relays a story from Prentiss Gray, who had studied bison and in 1887 had observed a herd of some 4000 attempt to cross the South Platte River when it was low. “Soon the leaders were stuck in the mud, those behind, pressed forward by the herd, trampled over their struggling companions until the whole bed of the river a half mile wide was filled with dead and dying buffalo. This habit of stampeding was a habit of the wild buffalo.” Howard also shared similar accounts of antelopes in the Congo and Guanacos in Patagonia who had trampled each other or become trapped in frozen mud.

Howard also devoted part of his report to explaining honestly that he, his team and even the other prominent scientists they had brought to Clovis or otherwise consulted, can't say for certain that there had been no mixing of artifacts and layers at the site. Firstly, at and near the windblown surface, were scattered Yuma style points. These were known to be old - no contemporary peoples were known to use points quite like them, but they were from long after the Ice Age. Other points, some Yuma, some of other styles but all of that same old but still recent manufacture, and some pot sherds had been recovered from layers above and within the blue-gray sands. While never found directly alongside the older, unidentified and Folsom-like tools, these finds cast a shadow of doubt as to the antiquity of the flints.

It was in 1937 that JL Cotter, Howard's primary partner on the excavation, published the final report on the The Occurrence of Flints and Extinct Animals in Pluvial Deposits near Clovis, NM (part IV). Though he did not formally classify the points as a new type, this is where they start being referred to as a distinct style that had only been reported before from the Dent Site and Burnet Cave.

By the 1950s, the fluted points had become called Clovis Points and their style and method of manufacture was known to be a precursor to Folsom technology. Radiometric dating, though it would need future calibration and refinement, would first be done in the 1950-60s, returning dates of nearly 10,000 years before present, well within the known range of the late Ice Age.

Hrdlicka died in 1943, and would never accept the findings at Folsom, Clovis or anywhere else.

Sources and further reading/listening:

“THE INITIAL RESEARCH AT CLOVIS, NEW MEXICO: 1932-1937.” Plains Anthropologist 35, no. 130 (1990): 1–20. http://www.jstor.org/stable/25668959.

Cotter J. L. 1937 The Occurrence of Flints and Extinct Animals in Pluvial Deposits near Clovis, New Mexico, Part IV: Report on the Excavations at the Gravel Pit in 1936, Proceedings of the Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia, 89, pp. 1–16

Jesse D. Figgins, “A Further Contribution to the Antiquity of Man in America,” Proceedings of the Colorado Museum of Natural History 12, no. 2 (1933).

Brunswig, R. (2016) The Dent Site: A Late Ice Age Encounter on the South Platte River

for the online Colorado Encyclopedia

Steeves, P. F.C. (2022) The Indigenous Paleolithic of the Western Hemisphere University Press Audiobooks

Meltzer, D.J. (2011) First Peoples in A New World: Colonizing Ice Age America University Press Audiobooks

Adovadio, J.M., Page, J., (2022) The First Americans: In Pursuit of Archaeology’s Greatest Mystery Tantor Audio

Hamalainen, P. (2022) Indigenous Continent: The Epic Contest for North America

Howard, Edgar B.. "Burnet Cave." The Museum Journal XXIV, no. 2-3 (June, 1935): 62-79. Accessed March 13, 2024. https://www.penn.museum/sites/journal/9515/

#archaeology #paleolithic #clovis #prehistory #history #found the format buttons #still need to stop doing this on phone

[transgenderfivepebbles]

Storm Clouds, Concealing the Light

AO3 version here

Strange… something still draws me here.

A Bell, Eighteen Amber Beads stands amid the dark crimson grass, its soft stalks brushing against their legs, the midday sun gently countering a cold breeze. It's been long since they last visited these fields – gaining renown as a poet came with its benefits, but life in the city grew tiring, and they were in need of some inspiration. They always seemed to return to these mundane beauties; it brought them peace, and it was a popular subject after all. 

They climb onto a defunct piece of machinery, observing the shimmering blanket of plants before them, and begin to write their verse.

The weather is so different now, but the fields…

Clouds obscure the sun, turning the blue skies to gray. Rainstorms scour the land, and the grass grows coarser, its roots clinging tightly to the wet soil. Life on the surface is no longer safe; A Bell, Eighteen Amber Beads' visits grow rarer, and ever sooner cut short by the dreadful siren that heralds the coming storm. Nonetheless, they know to hold every moment that much closer, promising to return to their beloved vista until the very end.

They live up in the city now, like all the others. Their residence – they do not dare call it a home – is a plain, greyish unit, in one of countless buildings that overlook the clouds. Many a night, they sit sleepless with their companion, a fellow artist by the name of Twenty-One Spokes of a Stone Wheel. Watching the stars, hand in hand, the two speak of the life that once was, and more often than not it ends in bittersweet tears. 

"We will see it again," Twenty-One Spokes whispers. "I promise."

I do not need eyes to know that the grasses still sway gently in the winds.

It is their final visit. The administration has deemed the surface soon to be completely unfit for any use, and instructed all those willing to take the last of their belongings to the cities in the sky.

Much of the soil is gone, washed away by endless floods. The grass, though, stands hardy, anchoring itself like claws in the rusting metal; its deep red blades no longer shine in the sunlight, obscured by suffocating clouds, mark of the world's end.

Their vision has grown blurry – they are nearing the end of this life, the passage of time taking its toll on their body. Now, the fields seem to be little more than indistinct expanses of red stretching out into the distance, yet they do not mind. For them, the gentle rustling in the wind and the feeling of the stems against them suffices to return their fond memories of home.

There is nothing left to say but their farewells, and as it is said, there is no comfort in a farewell.

A Bell, Eighteen Amber Beads pulls the cloth off their hands, and reaches down, feeling the vegetation against their bare fingers for the first and last time.

To have grasped at the boundless infinites of the cosmic void…

Countless dreams dance in the darkness, the sound of roaring wind accompanying a vision of glowing stars circling about, patterns fading and blooming before their formless eyes.

Ascension, it was called. Departing the material world, of death and rebirth. 

For what? Something else, something better?

What is there to desire that this life did not provide?

Perhaps it is the only choice, when their world had already been destroyed. 

One thought persists as the last of their mind slips away, consumed by the void.

"What was the point?"

Yet here I am contemplating the same fields as I once did, talking to some sort of rodent.

A Bell, Eighteen Amber Beads watches over the field once more. 

Their form is unrecognizable, a mess of gold and darkness that floats in the air. What have they become now?

Rain beats down with earth-rattling force, but the fields persist, red grass like a sea below them.

Everything has changed, and yet it is precisely as they remember. 

They return at last, yet it is not as they expected.

A small creature perches on a pole, its dark eyes gleaming, gazing up at what is left of them. 

#data pearls #rain world #rain world ancients #im surprised at how fast i wrote this. finalized TBOMF and just slammed directly through this one #anyway. bell fic FINALLY real #idk what happened in my brain but it Sure Did #this one is like 700 words. i am free at last from the 530 word fic curse #if you know where the title comes from you're automatically cool btw #man. ancients who spent so many lives living on the surface and then had to move to the cities #crossing the river and kicking out the boat #im normal over them

[yojfull]

Tagged by @tinyarmedtrex

How many works do you have on AO3? 47

Total AO3 word count? Currently 350,000 exactly

What fandoms do you write for? Heartstopper

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Do you respond to comments? Always something, even if it's just an emoji

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I barely manage to have angst in the middle, let alone at the end.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? My vote is either I Wasn't Born in the 18th Century or Lucid, but it's all HEAs

Do you get hate on fics? Not particularly, but I'm not very high profile

Do you write smut? *Laughs wildly* I've probably written the majority of the wlw smut in my fandom

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? Occasionally - my favorite is the InCryptid x Paladin crossover I wrote for two tiny fandoms joined by religious white rodents, and one of my only non HS works

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not to my knowledge, but I've never looked

Have you ever had a fic translated? I've had offers, but no one has yet

Have you ever co written a fic? Nope

What's your all time favorite ship? Indeterminate - it changes with mood, but Jadzia/Kira, Garshir and Kel/Dominic rank highly

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I'm pretty sure I will finish all my current writing WIPs. Knitting, on the other hand… there's a beaded shawl that is several years in process

What are your writing strengths? Nailing a word count target

What are your writing weaknesses? I write very concisely: I've never written anything that could be considered a long fix and expect I never will

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic? Only with the help of someone more fluent than me

First fandom you wrote for? Technically, ST:TNG in elementary school, but in terms of trackable works, Heartstopper

Favorite fic you've ever written?

I'm super awkward about tagging, partly because I can't remember who on Tumblr is also on AO3, but if you want to play along, go for it

#heartstopper #ao3 link #tag you're it #fanfic writing #i haven't made much progress lately #but ive got a few solid outlines

[accessdoorsandpanels]

Insulation 101: Benefits and Types of Insulation

Commercial building owners invest in quality insulation materials because of their numerous benefits. Insulation helps enhance the overall performance of any commercial building, decreases harmful greenhouse gas emissions, and helps keep your energy bills from increasing.  

In addition, adding insulation to your establishment can also reduce the number of noises coming in and out. This is beneficial mainly for establishments that require better acoustics or sound barriers. Let's learn more about the different types of insulation material available now.

Batt Insulation

Professionals use batt insulation efficiently, one of the most affordable options available today. It comes with two options; with or without facing. Professionals must place this per specifications to resist water vapor transfer. Most insulation today contains recycled materials such as sand. Fiberglass also includes sand which is an environmentally friendly content source.

Batt insulation can either be fiberglass, cotton, or stone wool blankets. Fiberglass is the most common type out of the rest. It is the perfect insulation for attics, walls, ceilings, crawl spaces, and basements.

Blown-in Insulation

When it comes to blown-in insulation, proper installation is a must. Professionals should utilize special equipment and safety measures to ensure long-term function. In addition to being primarily recycled, cellulose blown-in insulation also contains fire-retardant properties. It also resists insects, rodents, and mold and impressively creates a good sound barrier. Once the professionals finish the application, there are also available products with insulation that you can incorporate to enhance your commercial building, such as an insulated roof hatch.

Spray Foam Insulation

If you prefer an insulation material that forms an air barrier, then spray foam insulation should be the option on your list. This material can effectively cover your walls, floors, and ceiling cavities against air movement. This includes spaces around electrical outlets, light fixtures, and walls that meet windows and doors.

Professionals use spray foams in open cavities, like in new construction, crawl spaces, rim joists, and attics. You can also use this on remodeled homes. You can apply the spray foam if the cavities are unrestricted and accessible. Here are the two varieties of spray-foam insulation;

Closed-cell SPF- is a type of spray foam insulation that adds structural strength and is a rigid, vapor-resistant foam that doesn't require replacement in case of a flood.

Open-cell SPF- spray foam insulation that offers identical insulation advantages but does not act as a water barrier or vapor retarder.

Air Sealing

Controlling the air leakage of an establishment is critical to effective insulation. You can do a great job protecting an establishment, but if air can seep through gaps or cracks in the building envelope, you lose your valuable heated or conditioned air.

Concrete Block Insulation

A concrete block's center contains insulating materials such as polystyrene, polyisocyanurate or polyiso, and polyurethane. The hollow centers of concrete blocks can be filled by pouring and injecting loose foam beads or liquid foam. Some professionals create concrete blocks that support rigid foam inserts.  

Reflective System

Unlike most typical insulation, which resists convective and conductive heat flow, reflective insulation works by reflecting radiant heat away from your commercial building. These insulation types are best for hot and humid climates, primarily if you have cooling air ducts in the attic. According to research, radiant barriers can lower cooling costs by up to 5% to 10% when utilized in a warm, sunny temperature.  

There are still other insulation options available. Ensure to collaborate well with your architect, engineer, or contractor to choose the best insulation option based on your commercial building's needs and your project budget.  

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