#I behaved myself...just a little..just a smidge

[fetishfairytales2]

Besties 8 (Story)

This was originally written as a continuation of a story by @wittlesissyb4by called Besties. Check out all their fantastic stories on Tumblr and SubscribeStar.

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"Ain't happening, piglet!" I scoffed, as I pressed the vibrator against the super sensitive head of his pathetic clitty. His eyes shot back in his skull, groaning and wailing in a combination of ecstasy and torment, wrestling with the restraints as sweat dripped down his flushed face. "But don't stress, Brandi, darling, we're just revving up!"

Preparing to step up his torment, I dipped my hand back into the bedside secret stash. "Well, well, well..." I whispered, charging the air with delicious dread. "Seems Mommy likes it when Daddy plays dirty, huh?" I plucked out the bondage tape, holding it in one hand while maintaining the vibrator's relentless assault. I tore a couple of strips and got to work, wrapping them secure tightly around his twitching, helpless sissy twig and the relentless vibrator.

I took a hot minute to soak in the pathetic sight of him. He was twitching all over, that sissy dick bouncing up and down as if begging for attention. The sheer desperation in his whimpers was just golden. "Aw, what's the matter, Brandon?" I spit out, smirking at his sissy ass. "Lost control, huh? Ugh, such a weakling." 

Back at it with the toy, pressing it against his stiff cock. "So, are you picturing Heather and Conner together now, huh?" I could see a look of dread and excitement in that sorry excuse for a man's eyes. "Unlike your sorry ass, Conner's showing Heather what a real fuck feels like!" His humiliation grew as I laughed at him. "That's why you're stuck here in diapers and he gets to fuck your girlfriend!"

I wagged my finger in his face, watching him moan deeper. “I swear, Brandi, if you dare to spill even a smidge of pre-cum, I'll fucking lose it on you." I put on my best bitchy face, smirking down at him. "You better behave if you ever want a chance to make ‘cummies’ again," I chuckled, mocking him with air quotes. "Got it, princess?" 

As Brandi there squirmed like a worm on a hook, I made myself comfy on the bed, resting my head on his pathetic chest. While he moaned and groaned in his pleasure/pain bubble, I geared up for some reading. "Heather's message time, sissy boy," I reminded him, winking.

"Damn, Heathers been a busy bee," I couldn't help but gawk at the flood of texts on my screen. Poor Brandi choked on his gag, wishing he was in Conor’s shows. The level of details in the texts I’m sure pinched him a little more. Boy, I was having a ball.

“Let’s see what Mommy says,” I winked and cleared my throat, doing my best impression of Heather. “‘Connor just loves how I’m a little cum slut for him. And the kinky shit he enjoys, oh my God girl! Like when I swallow his dick all the way to his balls," I paused, hooking Brandi with a wicked grin. “Apparently they’re trying new things too…” I stopped for a minute to build the anticipation in Brandi’s eyes "...anal. She says he drools over her tight ass, he just can’t get enough of it.” I tried to get as dirty as possible, wanting to tear apart Brandi’s heart and still swell his cock in it’s cage. “She wants you to know that while she would never, EVER, lower herself to let you fuck her ass, 'Daddy Conner can plow her backdoor anytime he pleases'!" I sniggered, empathy or pity miles away from my mind. Brandon's humiliation thrilled me no end as Heather's texts added fuel to the fire. 

"Got it, Brandi? This is what your sweet innocent girlfriend does with real studs." I flaunted the phone in my hands, detailing the fun sissy Brandi was losing out on. "She says she loves to be on her knees, worshiping his massive cocks. Her lips explore every inch, she says she would even rim his ass if he wanted. She says he's the alpha male, that she loves when he puts her on her knees, grabs her by the hair, and forces her to deep throat his massive cock. It turns her on so much when such a strong man is making her plead for him to jizz all over her face and tits.”

There I was, staring down at Brandon’s gross, ugly, sissy face. He had a disgusting mix of enjoyment tangled up with a last ditch effort to hold on to his long-lost manhood. "Seriously Brandi,” I rolled my eyes. You really thought you ever deserved Heather? Pathetic." This just about did it. I could see him getting as rigid as might be possible, his hands clawing white-knuckled at the bedspread. Poor sissy bitch was going to cum hearing about his girlfriend fucking another guy!

"Aww, relax, Brandi," I added in the very same sweet voice, holding his gaze like he was on a leash. "Guess what? Your sexy ass girlfriend has gotten lucky. She’s on to bigger and better things! Now she’s Conner's fucktoy.” I laughed; No shit sissy, how great is that? A serious improvement from the nightmare of your worthless ass humping on top of her for 30 seconds before spooging your sissy goo on her belly. She gets off every single time with him, can you believe that? Heather told me that you had never given her a single orgasm.” I leaned in, licking a tear from his cheek, loving how destroyed he looked. “She had nothing but lousy, fake moans for you every single time! You can't hold a candle to a real man like Conner, can you?" My lips curled in a wild smirk, and I could sense his orgasm coming quickly. "Heather owns you, but guess what? Conner fucking owns her. Guess that means you’re both his bitches!”

God, the loser was quaking like a leaf and his pitiful excuse for a dick was throbbing pathetically. "Got a problem, sissy Brandi?" I teased. The poor thing nearly creamed his Pampers hearing about how Heather had turned him into a cuck. I pressed up against him, my chest smothering his face while my hand held that buzzing toy against his sad little sissy clit. 

He was like a puppet on my string, his body jerked on the brink of the sissygasm. The loser's eyes were bugging out of his skull - a hilarious sight as he suffered. "Come on, what’s the issue sissy?" I taunted, close enough to feel his pathetic panting against my skin. My own arousal was spiking as I got more wicked by the second. Licking his ear, my other hand sneaked into my panties, feeling extra naughty. Humiliating Brandon was pure ecstasy, sending thrilling shivers straight down to my swollen clit. I wanted to overpower him completely, make him crumble entirely.

“Mmm,” I moaned as I played with my clit, taking my hand out of my panties, my fingers slick with my own arasal. I ran my wet fingers over Brandon’s face and through his hair. “That’s it Sissy!” I cooed. "Cum for me, Brandi-Baby, let it all go," My voice was sugar sweet as I coaxed it out of him. Hah! As if that pathetic fool could ever cum like a real man. He was so close to losing it, his pleasure-painted face teetering on the edge of orgasm. "Show me what a tough guy you are, cum for your sweet cuckysitter!” I taunted, the thought of him caving to my demands making me even hotter. Turns out, there's nothing quite as amazing as taking a cocky jerk and grinding him down into a subservient, simping, and squirming sissy

"Ugh, Brandon, you pathetic loser!" I sneered down at him, watching his spunk settle in his nappy - still trickling out from his puny pecker. "Really, Brandi? Getting your sick kicks from hearing stories about your gal getting down with a real man?" I hopped off his chest, plonking myself beside the shrunken sissy. I dipped a finger in his loser puddle, taunting him with the evidence. "Aw, look! You're just a sick, messed up little cucky, aren't ya, girlie?" My sadistic grin was unshakeable as I saw the panic flash of humiliation across his face. "Ahh, sweetie, you're going to have to be punished now," I chuckled, his dread washing over his face. "Should've listened to Ms. Lyndsey when she told you not to spunk everywhere, ya helpless slut!"

[kanmom51]

The is a difference between lying and not saying the whole truth or keeping some things to yourself.

Truth told by V and JK in ITS: We're not as close right now as we were years ago. People change and it's okay.

Omitted info: Why?

It's personal and none of our business. Luckily it looks like that talk was good for them and they started getting closer again.

Truth told by JK: ARMY is for Army and the crown and J is for JK.

The ARMY one is pretty obvious. And J being for JK is new, but that does not mean it's not the truth. He said so himself.

Omitted info: Why it's placed over the M, when it's connected to the crown? Especially considering him sometimes referring to Jimin as JM (including in the new live and RUN).

Again this might be personal and poeple are allowed not to say everything. Especially if the whole truth could hurt them.

They say the truth and keep info to themselves in EVERY interview. Everyone does that on a daily basis, without being a superstar with a big chunk of their country's BNP on your backs. That does not mean, that what they are NOT saying is not also the truth. It just means we don't know all of it and that's how the world is.

I will never call any of the members liers. I just accept that everyone keeps personal stories and info to themselves and doesn't have to share everything. I don't do that myself, so why expect it from them?

Have a lovely day 💜😘

PS. Just my personal opinion of cause.

Your personal opinion very well put.

An opinion I tend to agree with, as I have stated in my posts following the first round of lives we had from JK.

As you said, we all omit stuff, it's personal, it's ours not to share with others if we don't feel comfortable enough to do so.

But in their case, these two young men, whom we love and believe are in a closeted long term loving queer relationship, two young men that are at the top of the world fame-wise, they have everything to lose if they are outed.

With their level of worldwide fame there are those that forget at times where they actually come from, the societal pressures they are under. SK isn't an LGBTQ+ friendly country (not that in friendly ones it would be that much easier). Korean society is very conservative, and if we thought things were going somewhere prior to 2022, well the 2022 elections kind of sealed the deal on that one (without going into the politics). They are also just about to be enlisting to MS, where queer relations are not only unwarranted they are illegal, a law that is being challenged but yet to be cancelled.

And as you know, the bigger you are, the greater the fall. I would love to live in La La land and believe that them coming out would be accepted and celebrated. That the fandom would be happy for them, for being themselves, for finding love. That the society they live in would celebrate their bravery and that they would champion the LGBTQ+ cause in SK.

But those are all dreams.

Unrealistic dreams.

Because the fandom, they won't accept it. Look at how they behave now when JK shows even a smidge of queerness. Our latest little example the reactions to him singing Unholy. And SK society, well look at Holland. Yes, if they ever decide to come out it will have, I feel, an immense effect on the LGBTQ+ cause, if only by giving it the back wind and exposure it might lack at the moment. A celebrity at their level, someone that is loved and adored so much, admitting to being queer, it will definitley have an effect. But the price to pay for them will be a great one. It's up to them, together, to make that decision if and definitely when. And the when is also definitely not now.

God, I have a point here, I promise I do, even though this feels like me just going on and on and on with stuff already said in the past.

My point is, as I've made clear in several posts now, that JK in his live could NEVER admit that the J and M together are meant to be JM.

Not out loud.

Not for everyone to hear.

That would be literally outing himself, and most likely JM as a consequence as well.

Because seriously, EVERYONE knows what that would mean.

JM tattooed on to his ring finger. For eternity.

Why do you think army came up with the convoluted theory about Army plus J being for all the members? Because everyone knew exactly what that JM meant.

So, admitting to it was not an option.

And yet, he wanted to explain his tattoos. He wanted to tell us what Army stood for, what other tattoos stood for, and he couldn't just ignore the J. So he gave us an answer. But like I've said, and like you have too, he didn't give us a full one.

But you know what?

This super intelligent young man who made a conscious decision to add the J tattoo on his ring finger, placing it right over the already existing M, while he knows that many of us aren't stupid either, is aware of the fact that if he gives us a plausible explanation most of the fandom will latch on to that, because they would prefer to believe anything at all rather than even toy with the thought that perhaps he is queer (re: the army is the members idiotic theory).

[ohmeadows]

I'm curious how can you manage to write something so deranged (complementary) and it's still amazing?? Like I've been trying to write something that's out of my comfort zone but always stop halfway or chickened out because I don't know where or how to write the character. Is there a tip or notes that you can share with us? I love your stories btw and I've read all of them. Thank you so much for sharing 😘 I hope you're successful in everything that you do.

okay let me see what advice i can give!

first tip: pick a work you think does this really well and print it out. grab some highlighters. go over it like a hawk, highlighting the places you think they nailed that you struggle with. is it because they use some special verbs? are they speeding up or slowing down action? skipping over details you think you have to include or it won't make any sense? take note of what verbs they use, how they choreograph, how they set up the space and scene. this is a bit of tedious process but it teaches you so much about how others do it if you're willing to put in the time, and is just a great writing habit overall imo.

second tip: i chicken out a lot too! sometimes i have to turn that shame around. like okay, what's stopping me. i'm posting something online and no one knows who i am irl, check. sometimes i make an entirely new ao3 account just to feel safe about it. sometimes that shame can be utilized in the characters. shame when used right can be really hot, because you want to show how much a character wants something, can't stop thinking about it, even though it makes them melt from shame. and then keep upping the ante until they can't resist the desire anymore.

third tip: contrary to popular belief i think almost any kink i feasibly care about can happen with any character if you build up the setting well enough. the simplest formula is framing it as a problem character A has, and character B offers a solution. limited POV to one character means limited knowledge, so you can also play with "oh my god why are they behaving so annoying/sluttily/weird around me? ooooh oh ok they want to do [nasty kink]" and then comes a period of reflection, wrestling with it. i sometimes straight up project my own thoughts into this zone to process and be able to actually write it hahaha. it's really sexy and good tension to show the internal friction of wanting something and getting just a taste, and realizing ah shit you want it even more now.

fourth tip: if the kink is really far out of your comfort zone, write like a stepping stone guide building up to it (say, lactation might be too far out. okay. breastplay? tit bondage? sucking on nipples really intensely? nipple clamps? oiled up breasts?). and see how far you can go along it. maybe you need to stop halfway in one fic but the next time you can go a little further, and the third time you make it all the way. it is completely fine and actually really cool to explore the same kinks over and over and i promise readers won't get tired!

fifth tip: this is more something i love to read than what i usually write myself, but: character A comes across a kink in media. they begin to research it, think about it, and maybe tell character B or B finds out through accident. turns out, B is intrigued and into it. this formula works really well in building up, pouring research into it, allowing yourself to linger in doubts and details and hesitations... this whole thing, is it a trope? it should be. i love it. and it works so well with so many kinks!

okay i hope even a smidge in here was of use to you, and if you need any help with more specifics or generics my askbox is always open!

[africanamermaid]

Signas/Reader | Signas x Reader

(I only write SFW content!)

Beta-read by @rp-repliforce

Third-person narrative with female "Y/N" reader.

.+*🌸🌸🌸*+.+*🌸🌸🌸*+.+*🌸🌸🌸*+.+*🌸🌸🌸*+.+*🌸🌸🌸*+.+*🌸🌸🌸*+.

Sick

It was a busy day today. Even if it was a cold and rainy day, the work never ceased. The High Commander had been to his fifth and final meeting today and it ended with a spokesman of the Council. Of course; save the worst for last. If the Council wanted to shut down Hunter HQ out of spite, they would. Thankfully, international laws and other forms of global red tape prevented that. But, that did not mean that Signas would not face the Council’s wrath practically on a monthly basis. He swore they verbally abused him because they needed a reploid punching bag to unleash their anger on. This did not mean it was okay, though. He always calmly stood his ground, which made the spokesman angrier every time. He always believed his job would be a smidge easier if he would just keep his mouth shut. But, when it came down to his Hunters, he would always defend them, no matter what.

As he walked through the dim corridor to his office, he could not hardly wait to finally sit down and ponder what to do with the rest of the day. Even better, he would see his new office clerk at her desk directly outside his office–a new addition since the Council’s ruling for Hunter HQ to now employ humans in office positions. Signas enjoyed the company of the little human. Reliable and responsible, she always made his days easier and her kindness made his days bearable. If she weren’t in a temporary position under the Council and if he had the jurisdiction, he’d hire her right away.

As he finally made it to his destination, he saw the office clerk at her desk. He began to greet her again today but–wait–was she asleep? Her head was down and was propped up by her crossed arms on the desk. She is asleep! Unbelievable. She never behaved this way at her job! Even rookie Hunters didn’t goof off like this! He huffed and walked over to her desk, ready to chastise her. “Y/N!” No response. She was fast asleep. Unbelievable! “Y/N!!” He glared at her and went to shake her awake. As his hand hovered closer over her shoulder, he snatched his hand back as if he had been burned. His irritation was quickly replaced with concern. Her…temperature is high. He mused. Carefully, he placed his hand upon her shoulder and he scanned her temperature. Hmm…102.9 Fahrenheit…This isn’t good! “Y/N!!” He gently rocked her which caused her to stir. Dark rings formed under her glossy eyes.

“Oh no…I’m sorry, sir. I…” She started coughing and went to immediately cover her coughs in her arm. “...It’s just allergies…”

“No, Y/N.” Signas disagreed. “I believe you may have contracted an illness.” He felt her forehead and her face. “Your temperature is rising. I’m calling the hospital.”

“No…you…I need to help you…”

Signas deadpanned. He gently lifted her face to look at him. “Your health is more important. If you were to fall into an emergency–”

“I know, I know,” she interrupted. “The Council will get angry…”

“--I would not be able to forgive myself.” He countered. “The Council is the least of my worries. My priority is you.” She felt her temperature rise a bit higher. “Now, there is a bench over there. I want you to sign out of your computer and lie down. I’ll get you help.” She nodded and silently did as she was told. He helped her over to the bench where Reploids often wait their turn to meet the High Commander and helped her lie down. Once she was comfortable, he went to call a hospital.

***

Beeping. Beeping. Slowly, she woke up to bright lights and the sound of the beeping. Her right arm felt heavy and she groggily looked over to it and saw a needle inserted and taped onto the back of her hand. She tried to speak but the painful scratchiness in her voice caused her to cough.

“Ah, you’ve awakened!”

That voice. That low thunder was familiar. Commander Signas? She focused on where the voice came from and indeed saw that her assumption was correct. She slowly adjusted herself to sit upright and saw her superior sitting on a bench suitable for both Reploids and humans across the room facing her bed. Despite the bench being meant for dual use, the Commander looked too large for it. She caught herself smiling and tried to laugh but she started coughing. Before she realized it, the Commander was by her side with an opened bottle of cool spring water. “The nurse left this knowing you would be waking up soon. I’ve yet to learn her name but your temperature is regulating so I know she has taken great care of you.” Y/N gratefully took the bottle of water and took a sip. It burned her sore throat a little but, boy, was it refreshing. She cleared her throat gently and felt her voice returning.

“...Thank you, sir…for everything…”

Signas smiled. “No need to thank me. You are my responsibility.” His smile then reverted back to his usual frown. “Now then, I must ask you, how long have you been feeling ill?”

Y/N became sheepish. “Since…this morning?”

Signas’ expression intensified. “How early this morning?”

Y/N shrunk under his glare. Even though she wasn't feeling well, she didn’t mind being interrogated by her superior. Although it was intimidating, it gave her a little rush. Ugh, how could she feel this way being ill? It felt not only unnecessary, but this weird, tingly feeling of adrenaline could worsen her condition. “...When I first woke up?” Signas grunted disapprovingly and leaned down next to the bed, leveling his optics with her eyes. She smiled nervously.

“Then, why did you report to work?” He asked quietly.

“I didn’t want to miss a day.” She answered matter-of-factly.

“You could always call and say you aren’t feeling well, Y/N.”

“But, you need help! That’s what I’m hired for!”

“Your health is more important.”

“B-but…!”

“Did you realize how worried I was?” She stopped her incoming retort. “Your temperature was rising gradually. I had you rest on the guest’s bench near my office. When the EMS arrived, you fainted and they were unable to wake you. I had to come with you. I could not leave you alone in that condition. Thankfully, with the Sigma Virus being fully eradicated, it made it possible for me to stay with you.” She appeared to hesitate and began to ask a question but Signas raised his hand to stop her. He knew what her incoming question would be. “Do not worry; X is in charge until I return.” She relaxed and nodded. “Now, I want you to rest. For the future, please call and take the day off when you are feeling unwell. Do I make myself clear?”

“...I’m sorry.”

Signas became confused. “Hmm? Why are you apologizing?”

“I kinda ruined your whole day…” a small cough and a quick sip of water followed. “You’re right; I should have called about me not feeling well and things could be getting done as they should be and not you being here in the hospital and stuff…”

“Y/N, you are much too hard on yourself. This is why you are in the hospital. You put yourself in these situations believing you will disappoint others instead of taking care of yourself. I am certain you’ve done something like this before, am I correct?”

She looked down at her hands. “W-well, it never landed me in the hospital…”

Signas rose back to his feet. “Please take better care of yourself, Y/N.”

Y/N nodded as she still looked at her hands. She still felt that tingle in her chest but it wasn’t adrenaline this time. “I will. I promise.”

[alexandriteobscuraarchive]

~The Assistant needs to pin Danny for once! (Be it for something fun or dangerous or both~ hehehe~)

Touch my muse

He'd seen it before on the surface during one of their very few 'normal' sessions. That anxious full body thrum; as if she were closer to a live electrical wire rather than flesh and blood, meant that she was nervous. Agitated. Excited. Potentially reckless. Her usual meekness had, for what was undoubtedly going to be a short period of time of this he had no doubt, been replaced with a restless energy that was....interesting to watch. And fun to instigate as well. The prisoners and patients on the surface had been jumpy in a similar way, usually right before doing something violent....

And so they found themselves working side by side in the well lit backroom. The doctor and his precious assistant both working in methodical but ever watchful silence sorting the empty jars arranged on one of the far tables, both empty and not, present on the floor. She still couldn't stomach that part of it and as an act of kindness Danny allowed her to solely clean and reorganize the containers lacking in the oh so important 'specimens' whereas he organized the rest---and always by COLOR, of course.

They're about halfway done when Danny's rhythmic movements change direction, his right hand dipping into his pocket as if he might've placed a jar in his coat by accident only to withdraw holding the forceps he always carries before setting the slender tool on the table between them. The clink is almost indiscernible, generating an oddly soft sound no more important than the clink of glass and the squeak of cleaning cloth. She was fun to instigate, after all.

"You seem rather....distracted....today, Kala. Is something bothering you?" He could easily name a few things on his own---not to mention a few things on some very 'special' levels, oh yes---so Danny isn't bothered when her response is another of those fitful little jumps and a shake of the head....not to mention her hand quickly jerking away for the thing it'd been reaching for; that sharp little encouragement he'd set down for her. "No? Well you know I'll always listen if you change your mind---"

Danny is interrupted partway through the word 'mind' as a surprisingly frantic strong grip first wraps around his arm and yanks forcing him to turn and then followed immediately by a bodily shove against his chest. He doesn't fight; but rather welcomes it as his companion drives him to the floor with the only sign of any pain coming out as a hiss from between his teeth as the back of his head briefly connects with the previously cleaned tile floor. That hiss transitions to a small gasp as he's maneuvered yet again, his head and shoulders being forced up somewhat awkwardly from the floor by the fact that she's clutching his tie in her fist.

What he'd thought of as thrumming before was now a full on upheaval. Danny could feel every inch of her slender frame vibrating against him as she straddled him as best she could with her knees. It'd be tremendously easy to overpower her and push her off but why not let her have some fun? The hand holding the forceps aloft is shaking too; the slender metal tool winking in the light as it hovers unsteadily over his left eye. Her face is trembling too, her usually pale complexion now flushed and her coveted blue eyes dark with a mixture of emotions he'd eventually pick through one by one. Eventually. What a great marker of PROGRESS. What a way to get HIS ATTENTION.

"Ahh, I see..." His voice comes out in a gentle, unworried whisper framed by a decidedly warm smile which no doubt lessens her already threadbare resolve even more. He’s reacting as if this were a commonplace occurrence---or perhaps something more INTIMATE between them---and it’s clearly throwing her off. “Are you feeling trapped? Claustrophobic perhaps...?” Trapped by what, exactly? The building? Him? How silly...! Danny’s left hand rises from its prone position on the floor, his fingertips at first grazing against the young woman’s fist perilously suspended over his face and then lingering there for a few seconds before moving on. The flush present upon her face deepens as the doctor’s hand finally comes to rest against the side of her face, his fingers idly brushing some of her blonde hair out of the way. It’s a gesture that’s so loving, so completely out of step with the current situation, that combined with everything else it manages to break her entirely.

The hand wrapped around the forceps moves but rather than plunge the much used tool downwards and into his face she flings it to the side as if the metal had burned her skin before bowing her head slightly and; judging by the sounds now coming from her mouth and how her breathing changes, succumbing to tears.

“Poor thing....my poor little assistant....” So cute. So needy. Desperately so, even. Danny follows her movements immediately, his hand now gently stroking the top of her head. “There’s no need to feel that way, not with me here.” What else could she possibly need? Nothing, as far as he was concerned. He’d make sure of it.

[monsterlovinghours]

Concept: the dons dealing with an s/o that’s really insecure with them? Like, they all love you so much but you still just kinda isolate from them sometimes cause you think they don’t wanna be around you and they have to kinda smack some sense into you?

a smidge angsty and boy is this a fat mood

Bee cocked an ear, brow furrowed curiously as he heard the sound of distinctly human footsteps ascending the stairs to the third floor. It was rarely used, just spare bedrooms and galleries of Gio’s less precious collections. The staff turned the sheets once a week, and once a month it received a thorough cleaning, but no one really spent much time up there. No one, except you. Lately, you’d been all but shutting yourself up in one of the spare rooms, locking the doors behind you and making as little noise as possible. As if you were trying to hide from them. Scarabee sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering if this was normal human behavior or if he had cause to worry. Muttering in his accented Creole French, he sent his shadows throughout the estate to search out his colleagues, to gather them in the smoking room. He would rest easier once they had reassured him that you were behaving normally.

Yet, as they gathered and he called to their attention the change in your habits, and the same ague expression of worry crossed each of their faces, he knew he would remain uneasy for a while longer.

“Has anyone spoken to them recently?”

Bajo lifted his hand, waggling it side to side in midair. “Sort of? They come down sometimes to grab food and drinks, and I tried to start a conversation.” His expression fell, the tips of his pointed ears drooping ever so slightly as his hair took on a faint bluish hue. “They hardly said a word to me, they barely even looked up at me. I tried to pull them close, but they ran off before I could get a grip on them.”

Zhuk muttered something unintelligible in Russian. “That is unlike them. What could have happened?”

“We’re not gonna find out what’s wrong with ‘em sitting down here frettin’ like hens,” Cia said impatiently, already getting to his feet. “Let’s go talk to ‘em.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, Gio stood as well, his expression stormy, though for once, his ire wasn’t directed as his associates. He was angry with himself for not noticing the changes in their human treasure’s behavior before now; or, if he had noticed, had done nothing to improve their mood. Following his lead, the five of them walked up to the third floor, up to your new hideout. 

There was no doubt you were inside, they could hear your heartbeat from the ground floor. It was slow, steady. Nothing out of the ordinary there. There was also the tinny sound of something played through speakers, something slow and modern. The door was locked, but a wisp of Bee’s shadows popped the tumblers, and the door swung open. You were curled up on a large four-poster bed, your laptop playing music, your eyes glued to the window. It didn’t escape any demon’s notice that they were slightly red, puffy, and hazy. 

“Darlin’?” Cia approached you first, sitting down on the foot of the bed. “Hey, love. Whatcha all hid away up here for?”

You looked over at them, as if just noticing they had entered the room, before dropping your gaze to your lap, pulling a blanket around your shoulders as you hugged a pillow to your chest. “Just felt like being alone,” you said softly, flatly. Slowly, they each took a seat on the bed, the mattress large enough to keep them a respectable distance from you; nevertheless, they watched you shrink back against the headboard, as if you were afraid of them reaching for you, and oh how that tore at their hearts. 

“Sweetheart,” Gio began softly, his gaze uncharacteristically gentle, “why do you keep coming up here? Surely the den or the smoking room would be more comfortable?”

You shrug, your gaze still not lifting. “I guess...I just figured I’d be more out of the way up here. You guys are always working downstairs and I didn’t want to....y’know, I didn’t want to distract you or anything.”

Five brows creased in unison. “Tsvetok, what gave you the impression that you were ever a distraction to us?”

“And if you were,” Bajo piped up, “you were a welcome distraction.” Gio’s head whipped around, eyes narrowed in a venomous glare. 

“Not helping, idiota.”

Bee shook his head, rolling mismatched eyes as he inched a fraction closer to you, nearly close enough to reach for you, though he didn’t. “Tell us the truth now, cher,” he coaxed in a tender voice, low and nonthreatening. “You’ve been distant for days now. Is it something we did?”

Slowly, you shook your head, and they all felt an unspoken relief that they had not inadvertently pushed you away. “No, it’s not like that.”

“Then what, darling?”

You sighed heavily, chewing absently at your lip. “It’s...I don’t know. I just feel like...y’know, you all have so much on your plates. You each run multiple businesses, and you’re always talking about paperwork and meetings and business deals, and I just…” Somehow, you seemed to shrink even further into yourself. “I just feel so...small compared to all that. Like it doesn’t matter how much I miss you when any of you leave for work, because you’re moving such big pieces around. And,” you gave an incredulous laugh, more of a scoff, to punctuate the word, “you’re all fucking demons. You have power and knowledge I’ll never have. You’ll live forever, or at least close to it. I probably won’t even make it a century. Why the hell would you ever want to waste time with someone as...as insignificant as me?”

For perhaps the first time, they were all stunned into simultaneous silence, their already pale faces even more ashen. “Oh...Oh, cara mia,” Gio breathed finally, and space be damned, he crawled up the bed to pull you into his arms, cradling you close. “Is that why you’ve been hiding yourself away up here?”

Willing yourself not to cry against the undoubtedly expensive material of his suit, you sniffled and shrugged again. “I guess. I don’t really have anywhere else to go. I should have just left, but I don’t have much money of my own, and I just couldn’t bring myself to run off with your money…”

Bajo was next to curl up around you, Cia hot on his heels. “Mi sol, will you forgive us?”

“For what,” came your confused answer.

“For ever allowing you to feel that we were too busy for you, or that you didn’t matter to us.” Gentle, ringed fingers stroked through your hair, though you couldn’t quite tell who they belonged to.

“You’re everything, mo chroi.” Cia’s voice wavered slightly, as if he were balancing on the brink of tears. More hands were on you, cradling your hands, stroking your cheek or your arm, each touching you in some gentle way. “Everything.”

“He’s right, roza.” Zhuk’s voice rumbled close to your ear, and something about the carefully measured pitch of it nearly caused your eyes to well up. “We were not beings meant to love another, or be loved in return. Before you, our entire empire was built out of hatred, spite, and bloodlust. We were shrewd, cruel, and vicious men. But you...you changed our hearts, gave them life and blood and a purpose for beating. We do what we do for you, little one. We love and live for you.”

“That ain’t an easy thing to do,” came Bee’s soft drawl, “not just any breather could pull that off. You’re somethin’ special, cherie. You mean the world and more to us.”

As if he could sense you holding back your tears, perhaps in the way you trembled in his arms, Gio gingerly brushed a kiss to your hairline before whispering, “It’s okay, amata mia. Cry if you wish, this isn’t one of my better suits.”

You laughed despite the flood of tears, clinging so tightly to them as they surrounded you, murmuring their love, their encouragement, their adoration of you in a mix of languages. Your tears dried up quickly, and you took Bee’s offered handkerchief with a soft smile of thanks, dabbing at your eyes and wiping the wet tracks from your cheeks.

“Sorry,” you muttered. “I...I know you guys love me. I just...I don’t always understand why. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like I’m contributing much, and I start wondering how much you actually need me or want me around...and my first impulse is to isolate.” You stretched up to kiss the first cheek you encountered, which happened to be Bajo’s. “Thanks for coming to snap me out of it.”

Your face was promptly peppered in gentle kisses, like the falling of spring rain.

“Of course, love. Will you come downstairs?”

You nodded, and as gracefully as you could manage, you slid off the bed and got to your feet. There wasn’t a moment that passed for the rest of the night that didn’t see you wrapped up in someone’s arms.

[etherealwaifgoddess]

Run To You - Chpt.2

Summary: Steve calls Bucky to tell him he was right and the two get to know each other a little more. Still drawn to one another, the guys go out on their first date. Master list is HERE :)

Content Warning: mention of past child neglect/ abuse in regards to how Bucky lost his arm. It’s only a couple paragraphs but it’s depressing AF. 

Word Count: 3.3k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! There is a smidge of angst in this chapter and I had never really intended for it go that direction. Damn characters not behaving the way I want them to! I apologize in advance for giving you some sad feels on this one, I got myself with them too. But hopefully there’s enough fluffiness to balance it out. XOXO - Ash

Chapter Two

Becca sleeps the day away but it’s a restless fever ridden sleep with her waking up every few hours to cry that her stomach hurts. Bucky manages to catch cat naps while she sleeps but they’re both exhausted by the time the day is over. He manages to get some fluids in her once she’s fully woken up and she keeps most of it down, much to Bucky’s relief. He hates seeing his baby girl sick and is thankful for his medical training, so that he knows what to expect and look out for. It’s just past seven o’clock at night and while they would normally be doing Becca’s bath time routine, he doesn’t have the heart to disrupt her. She finally drank the rest of her Pedialyte and is half watching an episode of Wonder Pets while her eyes droop sleepily. He waits until her eyes stay shut for a few minutes before awkwardly scooping up the little girl to carry her off to bed. He doesn’t have a free hand to turn off the TV, having taken off his prosthetic the second he got back from the bodega, but figures he needs to go back out to clean things up for the night anyways. 

“Bucky?” Becca slurs sleepily as he lays her down in her bed. 

“Yeah, Becs?” He pulls up her comforter, getting it tucked tightly around her body like she prefers. 

“Love you.” she half says, half yawns. 

Bucky fights back the tears that prickle in the corner of his eyes. “Love you too, bug. Get some rest.”

Becca gives a little nod and then sprawls out into her usual sleeping position. 

Bucky shuts off her lamp and closes the door, leaving it open just a crack in case she needs him in the night. She seems to be getting to the otherside of whatever virus she’d caught but he knows it isn’t always a sure thing. He hopes he’ll only have to miss one day of work staying home with her but knows it’ll most likely be two.

There isn’t too much of a mess to clean up but Bucky busies himself with turning off the TV and clearing the coffee table. He’s washing the dishes and debating his dinner options when his phone buzzes angrily in his back pocket. Drying off his hand, he pulls out his phone and sees Steve’s name on the screen. Bucky swipes to accept the call and nestles the phone between his shoulder and jaw. “Hey, Steve.” 

“Bucky, hey.” Steve replies eagerly. “So I’ve spent the last six hours doing nothing but reading history articles and I gotta say, you were right.” 

Bucky smiles as he rifles through his cabinets for something to eat, “I suspected as much. How far off is it? Out of curiosity.” 

Steve sighs heavily through his nose and Bucky wondered how exasperated the other man must look. “It’s pretty fuckin’ terrible.” he finally admits.

Bucky laughs, “Wow, you really do know how to curse!” 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, ya jerk. It was just… surprising, I guess, to see how much these so-called experts missed. Don’t get me wrong, I know some people had it okay and some people had it a lot worse, but the way they make the whole thing feel so… sterile... I don’t know. They don’t seem to capture the feel of the times. Like yes we had food rations, but they don’t tell you how small those rations were. And how even if you got your stamps you might not be able to find the food you had a stamp for. My mother had to go all the way to Queens one time just to buy eggs so we’d have something with protein to eat.”

“That sounds terrible, I can’t even imagine.” Bucky juggles the phone carefully as he pulls down a tin of tuna. 

“We made it, somehow. And it wasn’t all terrible all the time, but it was a sight worse than they make it out to be. It’s like that now too, isn’t it? The world isn’t quite as progressive as people like to think it is?” 

Bucky pauses, trying to sort out his words. “It is and it isn’t. I think my experience is a little different than most but it’s definitely not the rainbows and goodwill that they say it is.” 

Steve’s voice is low and rich like good bourbon pouring across the phone lines. “Tell me what it’s like for you, then.” 

Bucky stills, shocked by the raw earnestness of Steve’s words. There’s an undercurrent too, like something whispered in a lover’s ear in the dead of night. It stirs things inside Bucky that he hasn’t had the time or inclination for in a really long time. Figuring he should reciprocate the honesty Steve has afforded him so far, Bucky hops up to sit on the kitchen counter and gets himself comfortable to tell his story. “Well, I grew up in a little backwater town in Indiana. The biggest export of our town was meth and most everyone was affected by that. People used religion like a weapon and thought The Republican Way was gospel. I didn’t fit in to any of that from day one and it made growing up there hard.” 

“What were you like as a kid?” Steve asks, curious.

“I was pretty much everything that town wasn’t. My parents weren’t really able to take care of me so I figured out early on how to care for myself. I was angry a lot because of that once I got older. I didn’t really try to fit in. I studied hard, worried about getting good grades so I could earn scholarships to a decent college and get out of there. I didn’t care much about religion and was fiercely liberal from the time I understood what politics were. And I’m queer, that didn’t help me fit in either. I, uh, I hope that doesn’t bother you.” Bucky falters, knowing Steve’s generation was a lot less forgiving about that sort of thing. 

“It doesn’t. I’m bi, actually. We did have homosexuality back in the thirties despite what the historians think.” 

“Holy shit.” Bucky blurts out. Captain America is bisexual. 

“It’s not something that comes up a lot, but I don’t hide it when asked. Somehow it never seems to make the news though.” 

“I think it would seriously fuck with some people’s world view if it did. That’s good, though. That you don’t have to hide it. It’s one of those things that isn’t quite like the news reports it. Sure, things are a hell of a lot better now for queer folk, but we still get bullied, discriminated against, sometimes even killed.” Despite himself, Bucky yawns deeply. He’s beyond tired but unwilling to hang up. 

“You sound exhausted.” Steve notes, “I should let you go.”

“No, it’s okay. I just had a long night followed by a long day. I’ll crash soon and hopefully Becca sleeps in tomorrow.” 

“Becca is your… daughter?” 

“My sister, actually. I adopted her when she was born. She feels like she’s mine but I never wanted to hide that fact that I’m her brother, not her dad. I don’t want her growing up not knowing who she really is.”

“You’re pretty amazing, Buck.” And Steve means every weighted word of it. 

Bucky shakes his head, almost dislodging his phone in the process. “Just got lucky enough to make a better life for myself, and her. That’s all.” 

“I think there’s a lot more to it than that, but okay. Really though, I should let you go. We can talk another day? Maybe grab that lunch together?” 

“Yeah, definitely. My schedule is a little crazy but I have off rotation in a few days, we could go out Thursday while Becca’s at preschool?”

“It’s a date. I’ll text you later this week so we can figure out the where and when.” 

“Sounds like a plan. Night, Steve.” 

The warm smile on Steve’s face practically shines through the phone line, “Night, Buck.” 

Bucky hangs up and stares around his tiny apartment in amazement. If you had told him a week ago that he was going to insult Captain America to his face and end up befriending him, he would have called you crazy. It’s a little odd having to separate the public persona he knows as Captain America, from Steve, the real guy under the cowl, but Bucky is looking forward to getting to know the real him better. 

xxXxx

“The best pizza in Brooklyn, huh?” Steve questions, squinting up at the shop’s sign. 

Bucky nods enthusiastically. “Definitely. They still use the old fashioned brick ovens and homemade sauce. Fresh herbs, locally sourced cheese. It sounds fancy but it’s really just good, old school, pizza.” 

“We’ll see. Sam recently introduced me to the concept of a dollar slice, and I think anything will be better than that.” 

“Oh man, yeah. Some places are decent, but most are shit.”

Bucky and Steve order a large pie to share, picking a small table in the back to sit at. Steve is amused when he spots a cooler with real glass bottles of soda and grabs one for each of them. Bucky smiles when he sees the bottles, able to guess Steve’s amusement at seeing something familiar. 

The pizza is up before they know it and Steve is moaning at the first bite. “Sorry.” he mumbles around his mouthful of gooey cheese. “It’s really good.” 

Bucky swallows quickly so he can respond, “Told ya.” 

Steve nods, properly contrite. “You did. Thanks for bringing me here.” 

“Any time.” Bucky smiles over at him and wonders what it would be like if they were out on a real date. One that ended with Steve walking him home and kissing him goodnight. He tries to shake the fantastical idea from his mind but it lingers, coming to the surface whenever Steve looks at him a little longer than most would find polite. 

They’re quiet through Steve’s first two slices, Bucky finishing his first as Steve goes for a third. Bucky has a healthy appetite but Steve is something else. “Super soldier, sorry.” Steve tells him with a shrug when he sees Bucky eyeing up his plate.

“No judgement here. Everyone’s gotta eat.” Bucky assures him. 

Steve slows down enough to make conversation after a little while, asking Bucky questions about his job and Becca. Steve is infinitely impressed with Bucky’s job as an ER nurse considering his mother had been a nurse and he knows first hand what a toll that profession can take on people. 

Bucky catches Steve glancing at his sleek metal prosthetic but the blonde is too polite to bring it up. “You can ask, you know. Most people just make assumptions about it, none of which are even close to the truth.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve apologizes, “I didn’t want to be rude.” 

“You’re not. It’s not my favorite topic but I’m better talking about it now. Go ahead, ask.”

Steve hesitates but trusts Bucky to know his own mind. “Okay, then. Bucky, how did you lose your arm?” 

Bucky takes a steadying breath and dives into the polite for public version of how he lost his left arm. His parents took him to the lake one summer when he was six, he’d begged for months and they finally agreed to drive out to spend a day there. He got a scratch on his arm and it got infected from the lake water. His parents weren’t too great on the whole “parenting” thing and didn’t notice when it got infected until he collapsed. At that point the arm was too far gone and the doctors had amputated it just above the elbow. 

What Bucky leaves out is that the scratch had actually been a gash and he’d gotten a beating for being careless before they headed for home. Sitting sorely in the backseat the whole bumpy ride home, using his own tshirt to wrap around his arm to help slow the bleeding. It was his transformers tshirt and it had been his favorite. Bucky leaves out the week of agonizing pain as the gash got worse, the infection burning and itching horribly until he couldn’t handle it anymore. Both of his parents were too strung out to notice and he’d tried, the best he could at that age, to put band-aids on it but then he caught another beating for using up all the band-aids. Bucky doesn’t tell Steve that the days he spent in the hospital were some of the best he could remember back then. The nurses were nice and brought him hot food three times a day. On Friday an ice cream cart came around. There were books he could read and other kids he could play with. When it was time for him to go home, he’d cried the entire way. 

Bucky notices Steve is staring at him expectantly and realizes he's gone silent, lost in the less than pleasant memories. “Sorry, it was a long time ago.” he clears his throat, pushing past the ugly memories and moving on, “I got this bad boy through a grant from a children’s hospital when I was fifteen. It was strange having two arms at first. Up until that point I’d spent most of my life with just the one. It was after that hospital stint that I decided on nursing. The nurses who cared for me during both of my hospital stays were just amazing. They took what could have been really scary experiences and made them into something good. I wanted to be able to do that for someone else, someday.” 

“Nurses are definitely superheroes.” Steve acknowledges. “My ma worked in the TB ward when I was a kid. She just had this way about her that she could spin any negative life threw at her into a positive. She was incredible. And I wasn’t an easy kid by any means.”

“Yeah, I heard something about that in the history books. Something about you being a feisty little shit always getting himself in trouble.” Bucky smirks, waiting for Steve to dispute it.

“It wasn’t quite as bad as they say it was. I only broke up a handful of fights over the years and always bullies who deserved it. I was as sick as they claimed though. The medical records were all real and my poor ma worked herself to the bone just trying to keep my lungs and heart going.”

“I feel for her. Even with medical training, it’s awful watching your kid get sick. Becca has some issues, she was born premature, and even though I know exactly what’s an annoyance versus a true issue, it’s still so hard watching her struggle.” 

Steve’s expression falls, “I’m so sorry, Buck.” He reaches out across the table on impulse and grasps Bucky’s hand in his. “What, uh... if you don’t mind me asking, what issues does she have? You’ve seen my list and part of that was from being a preemie myself. It’s not like mine, is it?” 

Bucky wants to melt through the booth into a puddle at the warm heavy contact of Steve’s hand over his. “No, not quite so bad. Her immune system isn’t the greatest, she has asthma that we have relatively under control, a heart murmur that the docs still think will close as she gets older, she’s anemic but has meds for it, and she’s never quite been out of the danger zone on the growth chart. She’s just a tiny little thing, but she's the cutest little girl you’ll ever lay eyes on.”  

“I have no doubt. She’s really lucky he has you.” 

They’re quiet for a moment, nothing to fill the silence but Steve’s thumb rubbing rhythmically over the ridges of Bucky’s knuckles. “Sorry, I didn’t exactly pick the happiest first date topics, did I?” Steve forces a painfully awkward laugh, taking back his hand as he tries to think of a less serious topic for them.

“First date, huh?” Bucky grins despite himself. 

Steve blushes from the tips of his ears down past his collar and Bucky wonders just how far down that blush goes. “It doesn’t have to be. Unless you want it to be one. I had a really great time, regardless. I don’t get out mu-”

“Steve!” Bucky cuts him off, waving his hand in surrender. “Breathe a minute so I can answer.” he pauses and Steve takes a slightly dramatic breath, shooting Bucky a wry smile. “There we go. I had a really great time too. And yes, I’d like it if this was a date. And if there are more dates following this one.” 

“Oh,” Steve is rendered speechless by the warmth blossoming in his chest. “That would be swell.” 

“Swell? Really?” Bucky laughs in disbelief. 

Steve’s blush flares to life again. “Sorry, sorry. Old man word, I know. What are the kids using these days? Nifty?” 

Bucky groans, “Cool, Steve. Just stick with cool.” 

“Okay, cool.” Steve sasses playfully. 

Bucky rolls his eyes before checking his watch. It’s almost time to go get Becca, they had spent two hours talking and it still feels like not enough time. “Shit. I gotta head out for Becca. Preschool lets out at three.” 

“Not a problem, I’d say I’m sorry for keeping you so long but I really enjoyed myself.” Steve snatches the paper slip with their bill on it and hurries over to the counter to pay. “You were right, so lunch is on me.” he insists.

“That’ll teach you not to bet against me, huh?” Bucky quips.

“I don’t know. This worked out pretty well for me. I learned a lot of new stuff, broadened my perspective on some things, went out with a cute guy, ate the best pizza in Brooklyn, and it sounds like I’ll get to go out with that cute guy again. I think this turned out pretty good.” 

Bucky laughs and gives him a playful shove as they leave the pizza shop together. They pause along the brick wall of the shop, neither man wanting to part ways just yet. “I don’t have off rotation for another three days but I’d like to see you again.” Bucky says, toying with the hem of his shirt. He feels like a damn teenager again. 

“Whenever you want, Bucky. My schedule is flexible unless I get called away for a long mission. I’ll take whatever time you’re willing to share with me.” Steve doesn’t want to push, but he’s willing to do whatever he needs to in order to see Bucky again. 

“I appreciate that. I know my schedule isn’t traditional but it’s my life for right now.” 

“And that’s okay.” Steve assures him, though he looks pretty nervous suddenly. He clears his throat twice before he finally asks, “Would it be too fast if I asked to kiss you right now?” 

Bucky’s pupils flare at the question, his reaction answering Steve before his voice does. “Not at all.” he murmurs moving closer to Steve.

Steve’s lips are a breath away from Bucky’s as he whispers “Oh good” and takes the kiss that Bucky so freely gives. Steve fights for composure, they’re on a public sidewalk for heaven’s sake. Bucky’s mouth slots against his like missing puzzle pieces, both warm and insistent as the kiss deepens. 

Steve kisses like he’s drowning and Bucky is reeling to keep up. How something so innocent turned so quickly is beyond comprehension but Bucky doesn’t want it to stop. The alarm on his phone reminding him it’s pick up time for Becca ends things quickly though. “I’ve gotta get Becca. Like, now.” he breathes raggedly against Steve’s mouth. 

“Okay. Okay.” Steve repeats like he’s convincing himself. “To be continued?” 

“To be continued.” Bucky agrees, leaning in for one last quick peck and then heading off to go pick up Becca.

[poppibranchlover]

Nine Lives, One Fight - Part 28

The story: Deep in the forest of Troll Town, there lies a mysterious tiny purple mushroom that has a secret magical ability. King Peppy calls this mushroom forbidden for all Trolls to go near it. One day, while Branch is out in the woods doing his survival research studying, he encounters it and, not knowing it is a regular mushroom, decides to harvest it and bring it home. But in the next morning, its magic effects transform him into a small blue cat! After being sent to the animal pound, his girlfriend, Poppy, finds him and decides to adopt him, although not recognizing it is Branch. Desperate to finish his research project due for a special event invented by Poppy, Branch is forced to learn how to behave like a pet cat and must figure out what caused him to become one.

You already seen what had happened in Part 27. Now get ready for Part 28!:

In her beloved pod, Poppy sat on her bed, feeling hopeless with memories of Branch still stuck in her head. After spending a lot of time hiding her sadness from her friends, she wanted to go straight to bed to make herself better.

But it didn’t. Instead, she just sat there with one hand holding her chin, waiting for the right time for Branch to arrive and help her soon. She slumped down on her pillows and whispered “Oh, Branch. If you were there to help me recover this lost Archaeo morphisis mushroom, I always knew you were this one Troll to count on. I can’t handle this by myself, unless I need your help.”

It is true. Poppy really needs Branch’s help on this mystery of the disappearing Archaeo morphisis. Without him, she didn’t know what to do. She continued to ponder for a solution when the door of her pod knocked with a mighty bang.

KNOCK!!! KNOCK!!!

Poppy quickly sat up, startled by the sound. “Branch, is that you?” she asked hopefully. She wondered who could be answering the door. Could it really be him?

Rushing to the door, she turned the knob and opened it, ready to greet the Troll who visited her. But instead of a blue pointed-eared Troll with a green vest and brown shorts, Poppy’s face fell when she looked down and saw a tiny yellow Troll.

“Sorry, Poppy. It’s just your best friend, Smidge,” she told her sadly. “Branch can’t be far from found right about now. I heard you’re thinking about him, huh?”

“Smidge? What are you doing here?” Poppy asked. “It’s getting late because all the Trolls were asleep.”

“I came here to see how are you feeling. Perhaps filling in as Branch would be a nice fitting welcome, don’t you think?” Smidge suggested, hoping that Poppy would get her brilliant idea.

“You’re doing great at supporting me every day, but somehow I feel lost without Branch.” Poppy turned away from her and walked away, pressured by all the depression she had put into her brain.

Smidge walked up to her, not wanting to hesitate further. “You can’t just give up now. You’re the queen. You have to think of something to avenge what you’ve lost.”

“But I don’t want to avenge the only person I ever loved!” Poppy protested, holding her arms up. As tears welled up in her eyes, she quickly turned away, not wanting to show how sad she is in front of Smidge.

She decided to move on to the current subject as the pain continued to fill in her mind. “I could really use your help, Smidge,” she said. “The fate of my village depends on that last existing Archaeo morphisis.”

Smidge put her arm to her shoulder. “Cheer up, Poppy,” she told her gently. “Why don’t you play with Mr. Tickle. It will help you feel better. Besides, your pet cat is so cute that I want to cuddle him up too!”

This idea made Poppy lit up with determination. She turned to Smidge and exclaimed “Good idea!”

Poppy started to walk to Branch’s cat bed, certain that playing with her pet cat would always help cheer her up. As she approached the tiny bed, she started to say “Mr. Tickle, I’m really sorry for leaving you this way once again. But I want to play with you so I can make myself happy—”

But when she looked down at the cat bed, she realized that it was empty! Poppy gasped in horror.

“Mr. Tickle?!” she cried, upset that her beloved pet is missing again. “Hey, where did he go?”

“Oh my gah!” Smidge shouted upon seeing the empty bed. “Not again!”

Poppy frantically looked around her room, rummaging through her furniture in search of Branch. “Mr. Tickle?! MR. TICKLE?!” she called. “Where are you, my sweet baby? Don’t run off again! I know you’re hiding somewhere!”

Smidge helped her search around, but she couldn’t find Branch anywhere in her room. “We searched everywhere around the entire pod,” she said. “Your cat is not here!”

“Well, maybe he should be outside!” Poppy told her. “Please check carefully, Smidge. He might be there.”

The tiny Troll did as what she had told, peering through the bookshelves and stacks of scrapbooks. The two Trolls looked through every table and every pod ornament that a cat might be able to fit in, but they couldn’t find an answer.

Then, Poppy approached her heart-shaped crafting table, in which she got surprised to find that all her materials were scattered everywhere.

“Who touched my scrapbooking equipment?” she demanded, scratching her head with confusion as though someone or some cat might have touched her scrapbooking materials without permission.

Poppy picked up the black crayon that Branch was holding earlier. She can see the little kitty tooth marks in it, meaning that her cat must have used her crayon. Sorting out the mess, she found the note that Branch had made. “What is this; a note…from Mr. Tickle?”

Now this made Poppy even more confused. Cats don’t write! she thought. But she is now certain that this cat can write a letter to her. She quickly picked up the note and began to read from Branch’s untidy handwriting.

“Poppy, It’s your friend Branch! I AM NOT DEAD! SEND HELP! - Mr. Tickle”

Peering below the handwriting, Poppy can see a scrapbook version of Branch touching a miniature felt cutout of a Archaeo morphisis mushroom, and followed by an arrow was a felt cutout of her cat; Mr. Tickle.

After she finished reading the note, Poppy had wide eyes, with her mouth open without believing the horrifying truth:

Branch was Mr. Tickle, and Mr. Tickle was Branch. They were the same!

Smidge saw her standing speechless beside her table and holding on to her note. “Poppy, what’s going on?” she asked, concerned. “What are you reading in that piece of paper?”

Poppy took a moment to think about what she memorize from what this note was telling her. “If Branch is really the one who took out the Archaeo morphisis and vanished with it,” she said slowly. “Then that means I have adopted a...” Soon she realized something appalling and gasped. “Oh no!” she cried, tears of incomprehension flooding her eyes. Branch was the cat, he was Mr. Tickle and he had hidden the truth from her all the time, thinking that he wanted to be safe from the danger out in the village and chose to be adopted by her in open arms.

In a flash, Poppy ran to the door, still holding Branch’s note in her hands. Smidge tried to catch up to her, following her outside. “Where are you going?” she asked desperately.

“I have to see my father!” Poppy shrieked, jumping her way to the village along with her yellow Troll friend.

Back in the local village dump, Branch led the way, sniffing around and still searching. Wiggles was helping too, but he is hopping behind him with angry paw-steps, refusing to believe that he made changes to his plan.

Branch dug some junk away to see if the Archaeo morphisis was there, but the purple mushroom was still nowhere in sight. He continued exploring the landfill...until Wiggles started complaining “I can’t take it anymore! How long we’ve been exploring? This is a lot harder than I thought!”

“We’ll get there when we get there, Wiggles,” Branch said stubbornly. “We can’t just leave yet until we—Meow!” But as he spoke, his voice began to change again! He gasped and quickly covered his mouth with embarrassment.

“Sweet carrot cider!” Wiggles shouted. “Your voice!”

“Meow!” Branch cried, alarmed by this realization. “Oh my god. I must be running out of time! We gotta hurry!”

They started to move on when Dusty came in with the two Animal Control workers right behind him. Pointing, he said “There they are!”

“Aaaaaaaaah!!!” Branch and Wiggles screamed at the sight of the two Trolls carrying their animal-catching weapons.

Clayton and Garth walk slowly forward with their nets. “Going somewhere?” the orange Troll demanded.

“Let’s get out of here!” Wiggles urged Branch, and the two of them began to flee from the Animal Control officers.

“Hey! COME BACK!!!” Clayton cried as they ran off.

“Get them!” Dusty commanded the officers. Very quickly, the two Trolls sprang into action, chasing after Branch and Wiggles while they wield their weapons above them.

Garth began to take the lead, as he was the first Troll to have captured Branch since the first time he saw him chased by a dog. He and Wiggles managed to keep running and getting away from the officers, panting and frantically looking for a way to escape the dump.

Branch turned back to Garth and Clayton, who were still chasing them, and turned away from them, running with Wiggles by his side. He spotted the toll gate they have entered earlier and sprinted even faster.

“This way!” Branch yelled. “I can see the exit!”

They sprinted closer to the gate when Branch’s eyes suddenly changed into a cat’s and he started trotting slowly. Wiggles ran past him with a burst of speed.

“Meow! Meeeeeeeeooooooowww!!!” Branch meowed as he walked along, unable to pay attention to his surroundings.

Instantly, he shook his head and turned his mind back to normal. He ran after Wiggles and tried to catch up with him. “Wiggles, wait up!” he groaned, snapping out of his cat sense. He was clearly running out of time.

Branch sprinted past a few heaps of garbage and suddenly stopped. He looked around the endless mountains of rubbish all around him as he desperately searched for his little bunny friend.

“Wiggles?! Wiggles?” Branch shouted, trying to navigate his way past the landfill. “Oh, come on. Where are you, Wiggles?!” 

But Wiggles is nowhere to be seen. Branch looked back at the Animal Control officers pursuing him and started to run, but then the pain in his forehead came back and he stopped and held on to it with his paw.

“Aaargh! Not again!” he moaned, trying to resist the pain. “Don’t do this to me, stupid mushroom!”

Branch failed to resist and his eyes quickly became kittenish again. With his mind replaced with a cat’s, he meowed, sniffed and changed direction, pulling him away from the path leading to the dump’s exit.

“Meow!” Branch said as he spotted something very tasty in the distance and ran to the delicious smell that distracted him.

Wiggles didn’t realize Branch wasn’t with him until he had made it to the toll gate. “We’re almost there, Branch!” he said triumphantly.

But as he was close to exiting the dump, Wiggles screeched to a halt. He looked around, confused. When he saw that his friend is no longer beside him, he turned back to the landfill area.

“Branch? BRANCH?!” Wiggles yelled, running back to get him. “Oh no! I can’t leave you behind!”

Meanwhile, Branch kept sniffing the air, following his nose. He saw a piece of steak among a huge mountain of garbage and ran to it.

The smell of the meat was too overwhelming for his cat senses that he approached it and sniffed, anticipating the moment to take a lick on it. It smelled so good.

Branch stuck out his tongue and began to lick it, lapping up as much meat as he wanted to. Wiggles saw him devouring the steak and tried to get his attention.

“Oh no! Kid! Come back to me!” he yelled, waving his paws. But Branch couldn’t hear him and kept focusing on eating the steak.

Wiggles tried shouting even louder. “Listen, this isn’t you! Please get back to your own brain again! STOP ACTING LIKE A CAT, YOU HEAR ME?!”

Once again, no response. Branch kept licking up the steak. Suddenly, a large shadow holding up a long object that looked like a metal restrainer loomed over him. Wiggles gasped and saw Garth as he got ready to capture Branch.

“Here, kitty kitty,” he sneered, satisfied that the steak had distracted him.

Wiggles shook his ears in dismay. “Yikes! Watch out, kid!” he cried. “He’s gonna tie you up! Look behind you!”

Branch just kept lapping up the steak, oblivious that Garth is already behind him. When he raised his restrainer up, he stepped on a plastic bottle, startling Branch and snapping him out of it. As his eyes quickly turned back to normal, he looked around, confused at what he had been doing.

“HUH?! What happened?” asked Branch, frowning.

When he looked up, he saw Garth staring down at him! Branch gasped.

“You!” the green Troll shouted.

Branch arched his furry back upwards and screeched. “MEEEEEEEEOOOOOOWWWRRRR!!!!”

“Easy, easy, it’s okay,” Garth said. “Just hold still!”

“RUN, BRANCH!!!” Wiggles yelled.

Panicking, Branch tried to get away, but it was too late to do so when...

“GOTCHA!!!”

Garth slipped his restrainer at the end of its pole around Branch’s neck! Branch struggled to get free, but the metal restrainer was too tight to come off. “Meeeeeeeeooooowww!!! Meeeeeeooooowww!!! Meeeeeeeeeooowwwwrrrr!!! MEEEEEEOOOOOOWWWW!!!” he screeched in pain, trying to release himself.

“Come on!” Garth told him, struggling to prevent him from moving. “Settle down!”

The same Animal Control worker who had thrown a net to Branch in his first day as a cat had caught him once again. He tried to get free, but he couldn’t.

“Let me go!” Branch screamed, squirming in the restrainer’s grip. “Wiggles, help me!”

Wiggles hopped in front of Garth, ready to defend his best friend. “Oh no, you don’t, you crazy-eyed cat-snatching doofus!” he cried. “Let him go! That’s my best friend!”

He hopped over to the Troll’s leg and bit into it with his teeth! CHOMP!!!

Grunting angrily, Garth swung his leg and kicked Wiggles away, sending him flying into the air and landing on a heap of garbage just far from him! “Get off me, bunny!” he yelled.

“WIGGLES!!!” Branch screamed as loud as he could that his lungs would tear up so badly. He watched helplessly as his bunny friend disappeared somewhere far in the mountains of garbage.

He tried to fight back, tossing Garth back and forth as he managed to hold on to his restrainer. The green Troll called out to his partner “Hey! Forget about the little guy! Help me out here!”

Clayton rushed over to his side to help him. “I got this, Garth!” he said, holding out a tranquilizer dart gun. He aimed it directly at Branch and began to shoot out a dart.

THWOCK!!! PFT!!!

Branch felt a sting on his back. He slowly withdrew the dart that Clayton had just launched, feeling his mind fall asleep. With a desperate groan, the poor little kitten struggled to break free from the restrainer as his legs became heavier from the effect of the tranquilizer dart.

Finally, he fell to the ground, half-conscious. His vision became blurred as he can see his way out in the distance.

“Arrrgh…no…” Branch groaned as he gritted his teeth, trying to resist the dart’s effects, but it was so strong he is completely losing consciousness.

With the tranquilizer dart slowing him down, Garth removed the restrainer from Branch’s neck. Clayton reached down and picked him up.

“Wow! Would you look at the size of that kitten?!” he said proudly, celebrating their successful capture. “It weighs TONS!”

Garth looked at Branch and patted his head, but he didn’t like it so he glared at him. “Yeah, I’m really glad he’s done enough running for now!” he replied.

“Meow! Meeeooow!” Branch moaned, desperately wanting the Trolls to let him go as the tranquilizer dart’s effects started to weaken him. But it was no use. He couldn’t escape Clayton’s grip.

Wiggles climbed out of a plastic container and ran after the Animal Control officers. He arrived just in time to see them putting Branch in a metal cage and locking him in. “No, no, no! Branch!” he yelled, hopping to the cage to free his friend.

Branch, dazed from the tranquilizer and scared at being locked up again, saw Wiggles approaching and reached out his paw. “Please help me...” he managed to say weakly, just before Garth and Clayton carry his cage and walked away to their van.

“BRANCH!!!” Wiggles howled, trying to catch up to the two Trolls. “KID!!! NO!!! NOOOOOOO!!!”

But he was too far from the Animal Control officers that he watched helplessly as Branch was taken away at the hands of the two animal snatchers and was already gone and out of sight.

“Branch, no....” Wiggles said sadly, his heart breaking that he couldn’t watch it anymore. He sat alone in the midst of the rubbish, completely out of breath.

He hung his head and his ears drooped with devastation. His best friend couldn’t be gone forever...could he? The idea was almost too much to bear.

“Oh, Branch! How did I do this to myself?” he said, shaking his head. “He should have listened to me!”

Wiggles wanted to sit here and cry at the loss of his friend. Deep down, he always wanted a friend to prevent him from getting lonely, and now he had lost him forever. He slumped down when a bright flash of purple light shone before his eyes, making him turn around to find the source of the purple beam.

Following the light, Wiggles saw it glowing in a huge heap of garbage. He quickly hopped toward it, hoping not to follow the scary whispers that emitted from underneath the trash.

Climbing on top of a broken television set, Wiggles stepped forward to take a peek at the light. He heard familiar muffled whispering inside.

This time, the whispering looked a lot different than before the Archaeo morphisis mushroom was even plucked out. “Help him....get him back.....”

Wiggles quickly recognized the purple object immediately. Digging out some trash, he pulled out something that turned out to be Branch’s discarded berry basket, with the Archaeo morphisis still inside! At last, he had found it!

“Ooooh! Sweet mother of shroom!” Wiggles cheered, bouncing up and down with anticipation. “I found it! YES!!!”

But then, he forgot that Branch wasn’t there with him. “But, wait! What about Branch?” he asked. “He’s taken away! What am I gonna do now?”

Wiggles took a deep breath and tried to find a solution. “Branch needs my help,” he said to himself. “But not just my help...” It didn’t matter that he hadn’t agreed on things in the past. Branch needed help, and he knew the most important person that could help him.

He hurried over to the Archaeo morphisis mushroom and picked it up in his mouth. “I better inform the Queen,” he said. “She’ll know what to do.”

Then, Wiggles ran as fast he could, digging his way up the mountains of garbage, his sharp little teeth digging into the purple mushroom for dear life.

After making his way past the rubbish, he found a wire mesh fence that has a big hole in it and made his way through. Then he rushed out of the village dump and deep into the woods, finding his way to Troll Village to look for Poppy.

                                              To Be Continued...

                                           Stay tuned for Part 29!

Reminder: Am I too lonely to cry now? I did my best for this one, and I hope you all would love it because...poor sweet kitten gets taken away once again! 😭🥺💙

[solest]

I don’t know what happened but I wrote something again. Just thought about Crowley and Aziraphale remembering the influence they had on some artists in the renaissance (well, actually it’s most about Aziraphale’s influence on a certain work of Michelangelo). Thanks to folks in the /r GO discord server for helping me out at some point and a big thanks to @seraph5​ for letting me using the bit about Crowley and the statue at the end (it was her idea while I babbled on about this) and for always reading the shit I write XD.

It is 4 am right now and I’m not a native englishspeaker, so I bet there are some mistakes along the way

Here you go:

It was a lovely afternoon for a visit of the museum. The weather was not so much for a walk in the park, so this was a nice way to get out on a little date and reminisce about things one or both of them had a hand in.

Today there was an exhibition about the art of the Renaissance and both, Aziraphale and Crowley remembered one or two things about a lot of it.

Aziraphale came to a halt in front of a prototype of a pietá that was accompanied by a photoset of Michelangelo’s work. The smallish statue showed the depiction of Mary, holding the dead Jesus in her arms. On the right side of Mary’s feet you could see the rest of something that looked suspiciously like a little cherub looking creature but the head was missing and only one wing was still intact.

Crowley stopped when Aziraphale did and eyed him from the side, seeing the fond expression forming on the angel’s face.

“You were involved in this too?”

Aziraphale didn’t look at him when he answered, his gaze still on the statuette. “Ah, I guess you could say that. I just encouraged him to do what he wanted to anyways.”

“That’s a cupid there, isn’t it? And I always thought that Mary looked quite young and not very - you know- motherly.”

Aziraphale chuckled and turned to Crowley, still a smile on his face. “You’re right. But like I said, I only encouraged him. I remember visiting him on a particular evening when he was in one of his foul moods. He wasn’t very happy about me laying eyes on this draft, given that I was just presenting myself as someone from the clerical staff and all…”

He was interrupted by a snort from the demon and Aziraphale frowned at him.

“What’s so funny?”

“One of his foul moods. As far as I remember, he was a walking mood swing. No fun at all.”

“Not everyone could be as flashy as Leonardo. And you know,” Aziraphale raised one eyebrow at the demon, “I guess I have a thing for moody people, my dear.”

Crowley opened his mouth to tell him that he wasn’t moody at all, but Aziraphale turned back to the exhibit and just offered, a smidge smugly “you want to hear the story or not?”

Well, Crowley was curious by nature, so he just let that pass (for now) and Aziraphale remembered.

  Michelangelo’s Workshop 1497, Rome

“Oh, what’s that? Is this a draft for Cardinal Jean Bilhères de Lagraulas’s commission? You were quite fast with that my friend”

Aziraphale wanted to take a closer look at the statue on the work bench, but the young artist took a step to block out the view.

“It’s only draft, as you say. It’s not ready to be inspected yet”. Michelangelo’s voice was strained, and Aziraphale wasn’t sure if this came from his already not so good mood or the fact that he had seen the unfinished statue. In most cases, it wasn’t much of a problem for Michelangelo to show his progress to the friendly priest, he actually shared them quite readily with him. So it must have been something about the statue itself that made him so nervous.

“You know that you don’t have to hide anything from me, dear boy. I won’t say anything about it if you don’t want to hear my opinion, I swear.” Aziraphale tried to give this a bit more weight with a reassuring smile.

Michelangelo scrunched up his face at that but more in a thinking manner than distaste, the marble dust on his face giving him deeper lines than a young man in his mid-twenties should have.

Aziraphale waited, knowing the process behind the artists thinking now for a while and was rewarded with a deep sigh, followed by a “All right, but no word to anybody Aziraphale! Swear it!”

 Well, it must have been something really important if he was asked to do that, but he did it to ease his companions mind. “I swear by everything that’s holy to me. Enough for you?”

Michelangelo nodded and stepped aside, giving Aziraphale the opportunity to watch his work closely. It was a depiction of Mary, holding the dying Jesus in her arms tenderly, quite more so than he had seen on other depictions of that particular scene. The details were breathtaking as always, even though this was only a mere draft for the project; Michelangelo was a perfectionist after all. Mary’s face was fair and young, showing a delicate sadness.

It wasn’t uncommon to interpret the holy mother as young and fair, but something about this one seemed to be a different. The way she was holding the body, draped over her lap had an intimacy to it that was not meant for a mother and her son. Aziraphale’s noticed something on the right side of Mary’s feet and his eyes widened as he realized it was a little cupid, a sign for lovers.

Michelangelo watched Aziraphale closely, wringing his hands nervously and waiting for the priest to say something. “That’s gorgeous, as always, but…I assume that this is not the mother of Christ you’re showing here. It’s Mary Magdalene, isn’t it?”

Aziraphale was saying this just matter of fact way, no judgment or anything suspicious in his voice. Why should he be, he had known that woman, quite a nice young lady. Michelangelo seemed to be in a mix of relived and confused, still tense and brows furrowed.

“Y…yes… I know it’s blasphemous to do such a thing, I won’t do it for the actual statue but…I heard things, Aziraphale, back in Florence, and I just can’t make them unheard!” he nearly whispered this, like he was concerned to get caught at something forbidden. Well, it actually was, for the humans at the Vatican anyways.

Aziraphale had heard about that too, the thesis that Jesus had actually loved and married Mary Magdalene, which would have made him more of a human and less of the holy son of God, untouchable and above the human desires. The angel sighed at the thought of that and smiled fondly at his young friend, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to fear anything Michelangelo; I’m not going to tell anyone about this. I’ve heard that too and who said that there’s no truth in that? Well, beside the pope and all, but as a scholar I have to say that rumors always hold a spark of truth within”.

He knew that terrible things had happened to people with that mindset, so he tried to sooth the young man as good as possible.

Michelangelo’s eyes grew wide as moons, hearing that from an actual priest of the Vatican and he grabbed Aziraphale’s other hand in both of his. “You did? Oh tell me, tell me what you’ve read!”

Aziraphale was a bit startled by that outburst but he was relieved that the young man was just showing unbound curiosity now instead of that dreadful anxiety and bad mood.

He suggested to sit down and have drink, while Aziraphale told him about the son of god and Magdalene as if he had read about it somewhere.

He remembered them talking intensely, sitting close to each other and growing closer and closer over the time they spend together. Never once Magdalene forgot who that young man from Nazareth was, but Aziraphale could tell that there was something more. He remembered one conversation with her on a brief meeting, talking about love. She simply said that Jesus loved everybody equally, but Aziraphale could tell from those stolen glances between the two and the waves of a more personal love that he felt that time. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but in the far back of his mind a small voice was telling him, that he sported some similar glances whenever meeting a certain demon.

Michelangelo hung on his lips while he spun that tail, not saying anything to interrupt the priest, which was very unlikely for him. Eventually Aziraphale came to an end.

 “And you know, in the end there was something greater than them, I think they both knew. You can’t be selfish when you’re the messiah and all; he had a destiny to fulfill, and she knew that too.” He looked up from his cup, still having all of Michelangelo’s focus on him who had absorbed every word.

Silence fell over them for a moment before the young man spoke again. “That…that sounds very romantic _actually. Where have you read that again?” _

Aziraphale looked back into his cup, trying to come up with something. “Oh a very old scroll. I don’t think that it’s still in the library, something scandalous like this and all. But I hope that this ensures you that your secret is well kept. I wouldn’t recommend the cupid on the actual commission though”

He grinned and Michelangelo answered it with one of his own. After that evening they became actual friends; the young man was always eager to see Aziraphale and complain about that damn bastard da Vinci or he showed him his sketches and drafts. Sometimes he seemed to blush and at one occasion he even asked if he could sketch Aziraphale. But as it always were with the fleeting live of humans and Aziraphale’s duty as an Angel he couldn’t keep that friendship up for too long and they paths separated eventually.

 Back to London, present day.

Crowley actually listened to all of this without interrupting. It was quite a nice little story and he remembered his days with Leonardo vividly, also his complaints about this youngsters who behaved like he was walking around with a stick in his arse.

They kept on walking after Aziraphale had finished, when another presumably work of Michelangelo let Crowley stop this time. It was an unfinished statue, not too big but out of the white carrara marble as all the other serious works. Crowley knew why he was drawn to it when he took a better look, growing a grin on his face that showed more teeth than necessary. “I think you left quite the expression, Angel.”

Aziraphale stopped in his tracks and looked at Crowley, quite confused. “What do you mean? We were good friends I…oh…oh no”

He looked at not quite finished statue of a man that could be some depiction of a saint or an antique figure from roman mythology for how he was shown, but Aziraphale was staring back at his own face, adorned with a soft smile, a scroll in hand and draped in a tunic.

“Well…that is a bit embarrassing. He sketched me once, but I thought that was just for a study and he never told me that he was actually doing, well, this.”

  Crowley just laughed at this, thinking of Michelangelo looking longingly at Aziraphale while the angel was oblivious. Well, Crowley got the Mona Lisa so why not an unnamed statue for his angel.

Aziraphale looked at the statue of himself a last time, smiling fondly and moved on then. Crowley just stayed a moment longer, taking in all the details and the love that must have been involved in the process of making this. The artist must have had quite the crush back then. Crowley laughed to himself, muttering a “Me too Michelangelo, me too…” before catching up to Aziraphale.

They stayed in the museum for a little longer, even holding hands at some point and on their way to the Bentley.

Shortly before they reached the car Crowley stopped.

“Ah…I know it was much later, but do you remember Bernini, angel?”

“I do. What are you up to Crowley…?”

“You do know the Statue ‘ecstasy of Saint Teresa’? I may have drunken a bit too much with the guy responsible and I may have told him a little story about you and the good old Teresa…”

He grinned again, all teeth, while Aziraphale was going through pictures of statues in his mind. He watched in delight as the angel found what he mentioned and looked up at him in a mix of shock and embarrassment.

“Crowley! I told you about that in private and it was a very awkward situation. I never looked like…like that while doing it!”

Crowley opened the door on the passenger side for Aziraphale while laughing and they kept on arguing about this all the way back to the bookshop. He had not forgotten that commentary about the mood swings.

[wayslidecool]

Under Appreciated Pokémon - Vanillite, Vanillish, and Vanilluxe!

Sorry for missing my post last week! Just with the Splatfest, and the Pokémon GO community day, and everything else, it was an exciting Saturday. I considered posting something later to make up for it, but as days kept on slipping by, I figured just to wait for today.

For my birthday, however, I figure it’s time I finally talk about my favorite line in all of Pokémon history: the Vanillite line! That’s right, my favorite Pokémon is a bunch of giant hovering ice cream cones, and there’s nothing you can say to change my mind! But let’s see if I can change yours! Unless you already like Vanillite’s line, in which case, I trust you.

For starters, as we’ve explained in Exeggcute’s review, it doesn’t really matter that “ice cream” has been the basis of a Pokémon, because ice cream isn’t really that often the basis for a monster! What, you think we need another anthropomorphic dog? We already have like, twelve of those! Regardless of whether or not you like the idea of sentient ice cream cones, you must admit it’s not an uninspired one. If anything, I find it pretty whimsical and silly, myself! Of course, the Pokémon world will have its share of dogs, birds, dragons, and all that sort of stuff, but ideas this wonderfully silly always held a more special place in my heart, because they really feel like designs I wouldn’t see anywhere else.

Design-wise, some people simply feel that they just put a face on some ice cream and called it a day, and while explain why that’s not quite technically correct a little later, let’s still not ignore that they didn’t give the thing a darling little face, no? Seriously, how are you supposed to reject something so adorable? Do you actively go out on the streets and kick puppies for a living?

Puppy-kicker!

I’ll admit Vanillish isn’t quite as adorable as its previous form, but I think this design is still charming, just with an aesthetic that’s not quite as appreciated. Vanillish gives off more of this “goofy, Muppety” vibe with its bigger, drooling smile and plumper mid-body. That being said, it still distinguishes itself from being just “ice cream with a face” with a body that’s pretty distinctly icicle,  and the ice crystals embedded around its head and body, giving it a really distinct silhouette!

And whatever was lost with Vanillish I think was won back with Vanilluxe. It’s a bit hard to point out exactly what changed, but it might be the proportions between the head and body, combined with the re-arrangement of ice crystals around the face. Maybe not quite as cute as Vanillite, but I think it’s an ample compromise between its previous forms that should win over any fan of this line.

And like a good scoop of onion-flavored ice cream, there’s a lot to this line that truly enhances it. I mean! The ice crystals on Vanilluxe’s back form a little smiley face, and that’s only getting started!

Look! She’s happy to see you!

As any respectable fan of Pokémon should know, Vanillite isn’t technically an “ice cream monster,” but rather, a regular ice monster, whose snowy outer-coating gives the impression of ice cream. Obviously, Vanillite was inspired by ice cream cones, because it’s obvious they didn’t just design and ice monster and think “what if this also happened to be ice cream,” but it adds an additional layer of depth to Vanillite’s design. It makes a design this goofy feel a smidge more naturalistic, while still keeping its concept clear and distinct. How nice!

As some may also know, the straw or wafer in Vanilluxe’s design resembles the 99 Flake cone, which may actually be a cooler cultural reference! James Turner, the designer of this line, is the first western artist to work on Pokémon, specifically coming from the UK! Obviously, this small quirk of the design can be seen as a nice nod to his country of origin, as the Pokémon world slowly grows outside the world of Japan.

And as some have pointed out, their behavior and attack patterns reflect those of a snow machine, which doesn’t mean too much in the long-run, but the added layers of depth are always nice to have!

“Swallowing large amounts of water, they make snow clouds inside their bodies and attack their foes with violent blizzards.”

But really, even without all these layers of depth, I’d still probably love Vanilluxe and its family just as much as I always have. So there’s a Pokémon that looks like an ice cream cone. Who cares? What about that idea is suddenly intrinsically uninspired? If anything, I think the object ‘mons are maybe the most inspired ones of them all, hear me out.

If you’re building a Pokémon based on an animal, you already sort of have a canvas pre-painted. The animal’s behavior is already defined, and aside from a few small twists, is generally set in stone. Sure, there can be fun ways to play with that behavior, but certain aspects will probably be unchanged.

With an inanimate object, you have to forego the task of changing an object into an animal. How would an ice cream cone behave if it was alive? It allows for a lot of fun hypothesizing, a lot of silliness, and generally, silliness is something I am always for.

Anyway, since it’s my birthday, you legally can not hate on Vanillite’s line for twenty-four hours, until it’s no longer September 29th in any time zone.

But still don’t be mean to Vanillite on September 30th. I love her.

[deecherrywolf]

You won’t find him in any lady

I have so many other things to write and work on and what do I do?? I write a fic based on @thegirlinthefandom‘s fortune teller au! Can’t wait to see the next part(s), this is just a fic based on it - not what will happen next lmao

Hope whoever reads enjoys and thank you for reading.

I can’t reveal the exact identity, but… you won’t find him in any lady.

It was like an anchor had been dropped within the sea on which he traveled, rippling the waters and rocking his boat, only briefly, before it pulled him to a halt. Of course he could always ignore what she said - a lot of fortune tellers were scam artists, right? A lot of movies portrayed them as such so it wasn’t like it was impossible for that to be the case. And yet… and yet Lance couldn’t help but feel that the woman hadn’t been lying, that she had truly glimpsed at something and that made Lance consider her words carefully.

Him.

It wasn’t like Lance had anything against homosexuality - but he definitely wasn’t raised to think about it, so he never did. Girls had… well, girls had always been his top priorities when it came to romance, because why not? Girls were cute, smelled great, and were usually pretty nice to talk to. There were exceptions of course, but in Lance’s mind, ladies were the best.

So to be told by a fortune teller that his romance would not include a she, but a he… it was a lot to take in.

“You’ve been quiet, did that fortune teller do something?”

Lance looked at Keith, who was looking quite serious and ready to turn back around and beat up the fortune teller. Lance rolled his eyes.

“Chill, she didn’t do anything.”

Except she did, she opened this seemingly endless pit in Lance’s mind, where his thoughts continued to tumble down and down, floating endlessly. The more Lance thought about it, the more it made sense to him - is that why he hasn’t had any success with any of his flirtings out in space? Was he chasing the wrong gender the entire time?

Maybe he needed to open his mind a little and expand his horizons. Maybe he’d find his future lover within the body of a man, whatever. Lance wasn’t prejudiced, he’d like to think he’d welcome whatever love he’d receive - but it was a jarring, if only a little. He knew he still liked ladies, preferred them even - but…

He definitely could see the aesthetic pleasure of men, could understand the attraction and could definitely admit to being attracted to some guys.

Okay, so maybe… maybe he was a little bi?

“Are you sure she didn’t do anything? You look like shit.”

Keith’s brows were pinched and face tense, ready to fight. Lance swallowed and then cleared his throat. He wasn’t sure how he looked right now, but his face felt cool and he knew his blood had probably drained from it - it wasn’t every day you realized you were actually pretty sexually fluid. Lance shook his head.

“No, it’s probably just the food goo not settling with me from this morning, leave the lady alone.”

“If you say so.”

Lance knew Keith wasn’t buying it, but he didn’t care - he had other things to think about, like how he should approach this news and this new revelation about himself.

–

Keith didn’t know what had gotten into Lance, but it was beginning to agitate him. Not that that was unusual, Lance was rather irritating, even on his good days - but most of the time Keith endured it and even found it… amusing, at times. But this new personality trait that was emerging within the new Red Paladin was… well, Keith wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

The first change had happened at an alliance meeting - a group of aliens had agreed to enter the Voltron Alliance, and while everyone had assumed Lance would be hitting on their queen - a beautiful being, tall and willowy with soft features, hell, even Keith could admit she was stunning.

But oddly enough, Lance was charming a different alien.

The queen’s son.

What the ever loving hell.

No one had said anything, at least not at the meeting, but Keith had been sure they were all thinking the same thing, wondering the same thing.

‘Did Lance know that was a prince, not a princess?’

But really, he had to know. The prince was unmistakably male, there was no way that anyone could really mistake it. But maybe Lance…

“Dude, since when were you into dudes?”

Keith watched Hunk and Lance, waiting for Lance to flip out ‘That was a guy!?’ or something like that - it wouldn’t be surprising as Lance hadn’t realized Pidge was a girl. But instead of a flip out, Lance merely shrugged.

“Space is vast my friend, why should I limit myself and the universe for that matter.”

That had been surprising, but more importantly, a strange sensation bubbled within Keith - its boiling temperature flaring inside of him. He wasn’t even sure what was causing this, but he could definitely blame Lance.

He got up and left without preamble - hearing Lance mutter ‘what’s up with him?’, but he ignored it. This strange feeling would go away.

–

The strange feeling did not go away.

It only got worse as each time they encountered a new alien group, Lance proceeded to hit on the most attractive male of their species he could find - ignoring all of the females. And with each smile, each wink and each brush of skin, Keith felt his agitation grow and grow.

What was wrong with him? It wasn’t like Lance flirting was anything new, he did that all the time! But this… this was different and it bothered Keith more than he liked to admit.

But why?

Lance sighed as he sat down on the common room couch. “I think that went well.”

“What, the mission or your tomfoolery?” asked Pidge, raising an eyebrow but no real malice in those eyes - if anything, she looked just as puzzled as Keith felt over this development.

Lance crossed his arms. “Um, excuse you, my flirting is not tomfoolery, for all we know, we could have just met the future Mr. Red Lion.”

“You’re Mr. Red Lion.” said Keith, trying to reign in his annoyance, ignoring the flare of indignation at Lance waving a hand at him.

“Details, details.”

“Look, I know you are always like… this, but I think you need to tone it done a bit. You’re going to get us in trouble with the way you’re behaving.”

Lance frowned, finally looking at Keith full on. “You’ve never had a problem with it before, unless… Oh, my god, are you a homophobe?”

Keith scowled, temper flaring. “No! I’m not a homophobe-”

“Then… you’re jealous?”

“Of what!?”

“Enough!” order Allura, eyes narrowing at the two of them. “That is enough; Lance, you must realize we all are a little taken aback by your choices lately, it is a big shift.”

‘…Fair enough, I guess.”

“And, Keith is right. You’ve been rather adamant lately, perhaps toning it down just a smidge wouldn’t hurt?”

“I agree,” said Hunk, looking at his friend with worry. “You’ve been coming off as really desperate lately, man. Is everything alright?”

Keith couldn’t help but notice a flash of panic in those eyes. Lance huffed.

“Can’t a guy just indulge in his sexuality a bit?”

“We’re not trying to say you can’t explore that side of yourself-”

“I am.” said Pidge, her nose wrinkled, but Allura continued. “Just that you tone it down.”

“And be more careful.” said Keith, stepping closer to Lance now, way within a personal bubble. He rested his hand on Lance’s shoulder - grip firm and squeezing it reassuringly - but at that simple touch, Keith felt that sizzle - just like he had went Lance had done the same thing to him, a spark that sent an all too pleasant shiver down his spine.

“You never know who you may get involved with.”

They held eye contact for a moment longer and it was so quiet they could probably hear a pin drop.

Coran was the one who broke the silence. “Now that that’s settled, should I inform you all of our next coordinates?”

Keith and Lance broke away and turned to Coran - everyone following suit as they exited the common room to head to the main deck. While the way there, Keith couldn’t help but go over his and Lance’s exchange back there, Lance’s words… was he jealous?

It almost made him stop where he was and he may have if he wasn’t mindful of the others around him. Why would he be jealous? What was there to be jealous of? It made no sense. And yet… Keith looked at Lance, who was unaware of his attentions. A strange pull in his chest made him jerk his attention away from Lance and focused on what Coran had to say once they were in the main deck - he didn’t need to think about whatever was going on inside of his chest, he just needed to focus on the missions.

–

Lance knew what he was doing was a little off… and the others may see it as desperate, but ever since leaving that planet with the fortune teller, Lance had been having strange thoughts and even stranger feelings. He couldn’t get rid of the fortune teller’s words that bounced around in his memory and with that, had come intrusive thoughts about things he hadn’t wanted to picture. To say the least, he had thoughts about his teammates he never had ever even thought of before. He would look closely at Hunk’s swollen arms, Shiro’s chiseled chest and chin, and then Keith- god, it made him embarrassed how often he had stared at Keith.

So what better way to avoid staring at his friends out of this new curiosity than to focus on flirting with more aliens.

Lance considered himself pretty pansexual by now, given how many varieties of aliens he’d been hitting on as of late. But all his flirting had backfired on him, as it had caught his teammate’s attention and Lance wasn’t sure how he felt about that, especially the curious and concerned looks he garnered from a certain black paladin.

Just like he was right now.

He could feel Keith’s eyes burn into him as he chatted it up with one of the aliens that they were working with now. The alien was cute, humanoid but with four eyes, that tilted upward and pointed ears. One of those eyes on the side of his head glanced away and then back to Lance.

“It appears your leader wants a word with you.”

Lance felt a strange flutter in his chest. “Nah, he’s just keeping an eye on me.”

The alien looked confused for a moment before he flashed his fangs in what looked to be a grin - but it definitely looked devious with those sharp teeth. “Is there a reason for that.”

One positive thing about flirting with males was that they often flirted back, as long as Lance played his cards right. Most female aliens would titter or ignore him, but the men? They would either get offended or give as good as they got.

“Maybe, want to find out?”

The alien smiled, about to continue when Keith approached.

“Lance, we have to get going - Allura finished her discussion with the King, we’ve secured the alliance.”

Lance couldn’t help but feel a strange bubble of elation at Keith’s narrowed gaze that was directed at the alien, but at the same time - he felt irritation welling inside of him too. He was having a nice time flirting with this guy and here came Keith, to ruin it as always. He waved bye to the alien and followed after Keith, noticing Pidge at a stall, eying trinkets. His brow furrowed.

If they were in a hurry to leave, why was Pidge taking her time?

He frowned, looking at Keith who continued to walk briskly. Lance was about to open his mouth to question him when he noticed the redness of Keith’s ears - pink against the black of his hair and for some reason, it made Lance’s heart pound.

You won’t find him in any lady.

Lance quickened his pace, matching stride with Keith now, who slowed down now as they made their way back to the castleship, the fortune teller’s words bouncing in his head as he walked side by side with Keith now - their shoulders nearly brushing and their body heat mingling, making Lance all the more aware of the way Keith was making him feel right now.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

Lance couldn’t wipe off that smile even with Keith’s suspicious tone. “No reason.”

He ignored Keith’s gaze on him until finally the other looked away from him. It was then Lance glanced at Keith from the corner of his eyes, noting the pink that was barely there on those cheeks - he was obviously embarrassed by his behavior, and man… Lance found it endearing.

Lance wasn’t going to question Keith and didn’t intend to - he knew if he did the other would bluster and deny what he had just done. For now, Lance would keep it to himself, but even so, he couldn’t help but feel a strange beacon of hope that he hadn’t really considered before, because maybe… just maybe, he’s Mr. Red Lion had always been right there in front of him.

[loverlylight]

Heh, well, this has been... interesting. Under the cut since this got LONG.

So, Saturday night our downstairs neighbor knocked on our door after 10:30 (and quote-unquote quiet hours are from 10 PM to 8 AM, so) to complain that they smell cat urine whenever they turn on the AC and, since they know I have a cat, figured it was our fault. And I mean, fair enough, if you’re dealing with something like that it’s good to let whoever you think is responsible for it know so they can fix it. Would probably recommend approaching them at a time when they aren’t likely to be in their PJs and getting ready for bed (which, y’know, we were), but yeah. I also found it a bit confusing since every unit has their own AC which draws air from outside (and there are at least seven individual outside cats I’ve seen just in this section of the apartment grounds, two of which belong to our downstairs neighbor, and Ollie’s an indoor-only cat), but I still get why they’d think it might be us. Anywho, the timing was not only bad in general, but also because I had gotten home from a rough day at work and me being, well, me, it took me until after 2 in the morning to fall asleep because I was worrying so much.

Sunday morning my brother decided to check out a church near us instead of going to the one near our parents house, so since I’d be home by myself all morning I took that time to clean. And I cleaned darn well everything I could think to clean that might smell of cat urine. I always empty Oliver’s litter box once a day anyway, but I know that since he was neutered later on in life and he’s getting up there a smidge (estimated like 6 years, so not super old but certainly not a kitten anymore) his urine is a bit stronger-smelling and since his coat is a little long occasionally a bit will stick to his fur and I’ll have to clean it off. On the other side of this, though, he is a VERY well-behaved kitty. Never urinates outside the litter box, never sprays that I’ve noticed (and since Spencer was partial to spraying I kept an eye open for it), just... he’s great. Anyway, I spent an hour and a half to two hours cleaning everything in every way I could think of. After emptying the litter box like normal, I threw out all of the litter, scrubbed the box down, cleaned it with two different cleaners (one of which is designed to take care of animal messes), and then sprayed it with the special cleaner once more and allowed it to dry in there. I washed the towel I keep underneath the litter box. I moved everything that could be moved by one person out of the room and vacuumed all over. With the special cleaner I cleaned the wall and furniture near the litter box as well as anywhere he might has sat down after using the litter box (my windowsill, desk, et cetera), and then I sprayed the floor and let it dry there as well. This was an INTENSIVE clean, and even now I can’t think of anything else I could clean, you know? The only thing left we could think to do would be to get a new air filter, but since we’d be gone all afternoon we decided to wait to schedule that until Monday.

Then we went to our parents house, and on the way back... our neighbor stopped us AGAIN. And it’s just a feeling of...dude, seriously? We know this already, you told us when you interrupted us getting ready for bed last night, remember? He also approached me before my brother had a chance to make his way over from the car (his knee injury is still limiting his movement and slowing him down in general) so I was like... I don’t know how to handle this situation. Fortunately it didn’t take more than 20-30 seconds for him to make his way over, but still. Also since I had very little sleep the night before I was pretty worn at this point.

Anywho, stopped by the office this afternoon to schedule the air filter replacement (and turn in some mail for the previous tenants, which... yeah, after 11 months you’d hope you wouldn’t have to deal with that anymore but here we are) and, per my brother’s advice, brought up to them that our neighbors were complaining of a bad smell when they turned on their AC and asked if it was possible if it was coming from our apartment and if so if there was anything we could do about it. I was fortunate enough that the person I was speaking to the building/grounds manager (not sure of her exact title, but she’s pretty high up on the “in charge and knows what she’s talking about” ladder, and she even mentioned she’s worked here for 18 years) and she basically said that both with how they work and in her experience whatever they’re experiencing wouldn’t be caused by us. Then I even mentioned specifically about how I have a cat and wanting to make sure that couldn’t cause it and she basically said nah, you’re good. So basically it seems like whatever their dealing with isn’t our fault (I’m thinking it might be either their or other cats territory marking by their AC unit, but of course I can’t say for sure), and I am a bit annoyed about all the unnecessary worrying (and sleep loss) I experienced but I’m also relived that it’s like I’m okay, I’ve done all I can and it looks like it wasn’t even your fault to being with.

[justjen523]

A Child With the Gods

Chapter 9

(Series Rating E 18+)

                                      The Cost of Love

     Only a few weeks remained as I rapidly approached my due date. Knowing and anticipating what was to come it was almost humorous how motherly they had suddenly all become. None more so than Zyglavis. There were times I had to kick everyone out simply for some peace and quiet free from scrutiny. While utterly exhausting I also found it endearing. 

     There was however one exception and he remained in the running for a potential candidate as Father. Scorpio. He hadn’t been mean or brash, instead he simply avoided me at all cost. I couldn’t for the life of me understand why and whenever I asked any of the others it was like they couldn’t wait to change the subject. The only thing I could think of was that he absolutely had no interest in being a father let alone to a half-breed. While that thought left a hole in my heart I had to try and see things from his perspective. Part of me understood perfectly but the other wanted a happier end for all of us.

     I had resigned myself to thinking if it turned out to be Scorpio’s and he decided he wouldn’t have anything to do with the child I would ask Zyglavis to adopt it as his own. After all, they would be siblings as strange as that fact was. Knowing it would be better to discuss this sooner rather than later with Zyglavis I decided to get my daily exercise in and pay a visit to his room for a change.

     As I wobbled slowly down the hall the mansion seemed strangely empty and quiet for a change. A fact I refused to get hung up and instead enjoy the rarely allowed freedom.

      It never grew old how adorable and precious it was to me how drawn my child was to it’s Father. Whenever I would even get near Zyglavis it would spring to life almost like it couldn’t wait to play with daddy. The beautiful part was Zyglavis was just as bad. Those two had such an incredible bond already it was amazing. He was always talking, singing, reading and even playing with his unborn child and the love the two already felt for each other flowed through every fiber of my being. 

     It’s strange, I never thought out of all of the twelve gods that it would be Zyglavis that I would end up falling for. He seemed so incapable of the love and gentleness a woman’s heart requires and finding out how wrong I was changed my life forever. He had become the love of my life and now the Father of my child. Even if we never were able to marry just having what we do now was more than a dream come true. I couldn’t possibly want or ask for anything more. 

     As I reached Zyglavis’ room I was surprised to find the door closed. He never closed the door unless he was away or we were spending time together. Figuring he must have stepped out I turned to leave but the way my baby was bouncing around told me he was definitely near. Maybe he was in some kind of important meeting? I thought it best not to pry and was prepared to leave but there was a sinking feeling that something I wasn’t supposed to know about was going on behind that door. I tried to shake it off and started to walk away until I heard voices start arguing. I couldn’t make out what was being said but it sounded pretty intense. Unsure of what to do I decided to leave but of course in the end my curiosity got the better of me.

     Knowing better than to interrupt I simply placed my ear to the door trying to make out what was being said. I still couldn’t make anything out but it was clear the voices belonged to Zyglavis and Scorpio. I felt a wave of relief realizing it was most likely something to do with that job that had kept them so busy lately. Getting ready to return to my room I moved my face from the door and accidentally nudged it open a smidge. Frozen to the spot I waited for the door to fly open and then to get scolded for a whole variety of reasons. That however didn’t happen. Instead I found myself dumbfounded when I realized Scorpio though angry was obviously crying. 

     “You KNEW this would happen and yet you did NOTHING! NOTHING Zig! Why?! Y-You could have at least told me before....before....”

     “Scorpio....please understand it’s not that simple...”

     “Not that simple?! What’s not fucking simple about it? Or have you been lying to me all this time?”

     “You know that I haven’t...”

     “So what then? You were just using me all along? Till somethn’ better came along? Pfft, I get it now. You’re...you’re just like the others. You’ll never see me as one of you yet you bedded that goldfish without a second thought and now you’re playing house with her too?!”

     “Scorpio listen..”

     “Did you really mean it?”

     “Mean what?”

     “That day you said you loved her, do you?”

     “....yes, I do. She is also the Mother of my child I can’t just..”

     “You never fuckn’ told her did you Zig....DID YOU?!”

     “....Scorpio...”

     “ANSWER ME!”

     “No. I did not.”

     “Fuck. I knew it. Well now what huh?! You just gonna pretend like everything’s okay and that this never even happened? Is that what I mean to you now? Nothing!?”

     “Of course not. You know how much you mean to me. I am sorry if I have made you feel otherwise.”

     “I wanna hear you say it. Or can’t you anymore?”

     “....I love you. I have always loved you since the day I saved you from that wretched place. I love you so much that I offered my own life if it meant saving you or have you forgotten? You are alive because I plead for you on my hands and knees before the King.”

     “Z-Zig....”

     “How can you say that to me after all I have done for you and continue to do?”

     “And I fuckn’ appreciate all of it. Every single day of my existence, or has my undying loyalty suddenly become unacceptable?”

     “Then why are you so angry? What reason do you have to behave like this?”

     “You seriously don’t frickn’ know? Pffft, we’re right back to where we started from. Ever since you started spendn’ time with that stupid woman you never....we never.....”

     “Is that was this is about? You think I no longer have feelings for you because I haven’t lain with you for some time?”

     ‘W-W-What did I just hear?! T-There’s no way!’

     “Then shall I remind you of just how precious you are to me?” 

     There is no answer but in the sudden silence that follows the dread and pit in my stomach forces me to push open the door and see for myself if what I just heard is actually real. When the scene before me is unveiled the pain is so numbing I sink to the ground in disbelief and shock. Before my eyes the man I had fallen desperately in love with and planned on sharing a future with seems to have already given his heart to someone else a long, long time ago. The pair is so caught up in expressing their love for one another that they don’t even notice my sobs. The worst part is I can’t look away, the way Zyglavis is kissing him....he’s never touched me that way, never looked at me with the same expression. I am not who Zyglavis truly loves. 

     “...I hate to say I told you so, but I did warn you did I not?” The quiet yet stern voice behind me pulls the door shut in front of me before continuing to speak.

     “Goldfish, this is the realm of the gods. There are things you will never be able to understand when it concerns our love for one another. That isn’t to say that we are incapable of committing to only one person. As much as I dislike that anal retentive square, his relationship with Scorpio is not something you are ever going to be able to come between. No matter how much you and Zyglavis try and love each other he cannot deny his heart. And even if he could would you really want him to?” Everything Leon is saying to me further rips my heart to shreds but not just because I truly love Zyglavis, it’s because he’s also speaking nothing but the truth. The pain I feel however is so maddening and crippling I feel like I can’t breathe and before I know it I am laying on the ground losing consciousness. 

     Leon effortlessly lifts her into his arms before the door swings open. Zyglavis’ eyes go wide and begins to panic yet Leon remains perfectly calm and simply glares at the Minister of Punishments.

     “What happened?! Is she alright? What are you doing here?”

     “Cleaning up the mess you made.”

     “I beg your pardon?”

     “Hey, I’ve never judged who you choose to take to your bed, nor do I particularly care. This goldfish however really loved you in a way neither of us could possibly comprehend and you just crushed every inch of her precious little heart.” Frozen in disbelief upon hearing Leon explain the cause for her current state Scorpio quickly appears at Zyglavis’ side.

     “The fuck happened here?”

     “You never learn do you.”

     “The fuck you say to me?!”

     “While the two of you were in there playing kissy face she was out here devastated that neither of you had enough courage to sack up and tell her the truth.”

     “Pffft...and? It’s her own stupid fault for comn’ here in the first place.”

     “Ever the stupid scorpion as always.”

     “Hey, this shit ain’t on me. I told you that day that fuckn’ her was a bad idea, just like I told ya gettn’ her hopes up was too. Try’n to love gods and bare our children, that’s on her. It’s not like she didn’t know where we came from. We’ve been telln’ her ass all along that this kinda shit is forbidden.”

     “You honestly think it’s that simple?”

     “Doesn’t matter does it? The best possible outcome for everyone is if she dies and takes those two unforgivable sins with her.” 

[spiteandalice]

Judas Touch pt. 1

So I lied about posting the other day, obviously. Please know that I’m a lying liar that lies.The second chapter to my Jai fic is almost done and if I don’t pass out in five minutes I’ll do my best to get it the fuck done. Let me start this by saying how I hate y’all even if you don’t know me. I’ve been lurking for a long while, reading all the Divergent and Boomer and whatnot fics quietly because I knew the moment I would set up a blog for this I’d fall into a deep, dark hole. NOW LOOK AT THIS SHIT.

Have an Eric oneshot because my brain hates me so, so much.

Contains smut, language and some violence.

In my few years on this planet I haven’t seen many winters that could compare to this one, the temperatures so low it feels like a punch to the chest every time you walk outside. Having all the moisture in your nose freeze up every time you breathe in is quite something to behold. It doesn’t stop me from hanging off the side of the first armored truck in our convoy, the one that found me on a routine patrol, peering through the blindingly white streets ahead at what I have called home all my life, even if it’s a miserable cavern full of loud idiots. My faction still houses the best kind of idiots because Dauntless are by far the most tolerable of the bunch. The snow actually helps to improve the city, it covers the ruins and manages to let even the usually depressing wastelands look almost pretty.

Not that I care.

There is a commotion up ahead, and I can’t help but smile at the warm welcome as a group of disheveled factionless come shambling out of a street in an attempt to attack us. I guess my reputation has suffered greatly in the past four months, but I guess being presumed dead does that to you.

They are mostly unarmed, a few are swinging pipes and other blunt objects in our direction, meaning to look threatening I guess, and I descend from my spot by the driver’s door, smiling. I take a few steps towards them, still smiling. My height alone is supposedly enough to impress, even if they don’t recognize me. 5′11 is mighty tall for a woman, and everything about my clothes is meant to accentuate that, not that I could really conceal it somehow. My black coat reaches down to my ankles and would be restricting if it wasn’t for the four slits on the sides, front and back, allowing me enough leg room to climb, run and kick. Or slowly stride towards a bunch of bumbling idiots who dare to delay my glorious return to the living. Clearly confused some of them back away, until I’m close enough to make out some of their grubby faces. One in the front bears a tattoo on his head that looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. He stares at my bruised face for a moment before his brain can process whatever info it provides to him.

“Oh shit. It’s her! It’s Mina!”

Ah, a former dauntless. It warms the spot where my heart is supposed to be that he recognizes and instantly fears me. Clever boy.

For a moment they are all silent, some exchange looks, then they start to run. I laugh, wholeheartedly enjoying their reaction, while I pull two guns from their holsters slung across my shoulders and start firing at them. Out of the fifteen only seven make it back to their rat hole. I’m obviously very rusty.

Banging my fist on the hood of the truck is the driver’s signal to continue on, we are moments away from the compound and I would like to get back inside, have a shower and reconnect with old friends.

All three of them.

There is a lot of bustling as we approach, looks like a delivery from Amity is unloaded right now and it has transformed the place into an anthill that I’m usually tempted to light on fire with a huge looking glass, but not today. I’m feeling very generous. A lot of black figures are running around carrying things, only one is standing in the middle, almost motionless. His head is turned towards us but there is not even the slightest sign of any kind of emotion visible in his rigid stance, hands folded behind his back, ever the leader. I smirk and jump off, slowly making my way towards him, limping slightly because my ankle is sprainex. When I am not more than ten feet away he barks at someone to his left, without so much as turning his head that way, and the hapless guy who dared to slow down hastily runs towards the truck to grab another crate.

“Still getting off on intimidating peasants, I see.”

“Still loving a grand entrance, I see.”

We stare at each other for a moment and if I had a heart it would possibly beat faster now and I would experience some form of joy because I am actually home. Alas, a smirk and a raised eyebrow will have to do, and it is returned in kind by my favorite dauntless. Which I would never tell him, his ego is inflated enough already.

“Looks like you just won me a lot of points, Mina.”

For Eric he sounds almost gentle, with only a minimum of sarcasm and a dash of amusement in his voice. I briefly wonder if he was affected by the news of my death at all, but I know him too well. It was probably extra terrible to land on his shit list for a couple of weeks, by breathing wrong or walking by too close.

“I leave you alone for a couple of weeks and you turn into a gambling man? What has this place come to! Are we doing group hug sessions now every Friday?”

For a moment we both go quiet and I am sure that we are supposed to hug now, or smile or break out into a little dance number. But we just stare, I for my part even enjoying it because there aren’t many people who would even dare to hold his gaze, and the same thing can be said about me. Finally he takes a few steps forward, closing the distance between us and leaning his forehead against mine for just a moment. We are both not feeling the need for any form of PDA and anything else along those lines, that is for the mushy idiots, the pussies and emotional people, which is all the same anyway. Mutual respect is the highest form of affection we are capable of and comfortable with, and that is all I need to know. 

“I am looking forward to a hot shower, some food and a few hours of sparring. Not necessarily in that order.”

He lifts an eyebrow at me and smirks. I’m still looking better put together than the majority here and I spent weeks in captivity, fighting my way through a horde of idiots and then crawling across the city before a patrol found me. There is dust in my hair, the left side of my head needs shaving and I would kill for clean underwear. Not that I normally wouldn’t.

“Code’s still the same. You might want to check in and tell everyone else you’re alive.”

With a huff of indignation I step back and glare at him, he has to ruin all my fun. I was planning on roaming the halls for a few weeks, thoroughly scaring the shit out of everyone that knows me, especially those that never liked me. Which, admittedly, are quite a few. Not as many as Eric can boast about, I have never been in a position to be able to make quite as many enemies, but I am close. Was. Am. I am back, I should remember that.

Stifling a grin he pats my shoulder and turns me toward the door behind him. As I turn a guy behind me catches a glimpse at my face, drops something and curses. I turn and start running at him with a loud wail and he, completely shocked and confused, starts running. The look of pure amusement on Eric’s face is almost worth behaving like an idiot and I allow myself a half smile before straightening my coat and heading back towards the door.

“I think I almost missed having you around.”

With a snort I walk past him, clipping him in the shoulder on the way. The only things he missed were my body and the fact that he had someone on his level around that would get his moods and his thought processes, that is all.

“Your dick missed me, I’m sure.”

He doesn’t respond to that, and as I walk through the narrow and dark corridor I can hear him barking orders at the poor saps outside and it just might be one of the sweetest things I have ever heard.

Later that night, after a very exhausting meeting with the leaders and a long and entirely unnecessary retelling of my adventures, I find myself keying in the familiar code to Eric’s place. There is a spot for me in one of the guest rooms because I have never been around for too long, but it is a long standing tradition that I spend most of my nights here. The lights are out and everything is quiet, so I make my way to the bathroom after taking off my boots and coat and placing them by the door, neatly because anything else would make it impossible for me to relax. Always be ready to leave, always have a strategy. The fact that I am willing to even take off my knives and guns around here says a lot about Eric, if there is anyone in this world that I would trust to an extent it would be him.

This is why I decide to not only take a shower, generously applying his soap twice, but also draw a hot bath afterwards because after being dead for four months I am pretty sure I’m entitled to a little smidge of luxury, and it’s his place so I’m not worried about wasting his resources, he can afford it. While the tub slowly fills I make my way around, grateful for the fact that he is such a neat person, because I could find my way to his liquor stash blindfolded. With a bottle of very good whiskey and his backup pack of cigarettes I make my way back to the bathroom, picking up a lighter and an ashtray on my way. I am naked and my hair is leaving a fine trail of water droplets all over his floors, which I’m sure will irritate him to no end. I grin and leave the door open before I submerge myself in what feels like boiling hot water, not even thinking about leaving before I have smoked half of the pack and drank at least a quarter of the bottle.

When the door opens I tense, but I know full well that the number of people who can even access his place is extremely low, yet I only relax after I heard his low grumble that is telling me he is annoyed but also vaguely amused. He must have seen the water trail I left him while he took off his boots. Like the trail of breadcrumbs in that old story, just a lot better.

“One could think you owned this place.”

There he is, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. I can’t say I’m not enjoying the sight, a few months among factionless and corpses does things to a woman’s standards, but there has only ever been one who came close to not boring me and mostly pissing me off in the good kind of way. He is currently raking his gaze up and down my body, and I’m not sure what he is thinking because I must look terrible. Battered and bruised, what I lost in weight I gained in scars. Not pretty, but we are soldiers, we are not supposed to be beautiful. Supposed to I say, because this little shit had to go against the grain.

“If I owned this place it wouldn’t be such a mess.”

The smile I bestow on him almost reaches my eyes, I can feel it, but it is also meant to provoke him. I need to test the waters, to see how, or if at all, things have changed in these few months. Maybe he found himself a nice little wife he keeps in a different apartment because being around others constantly is too much, or maybe he and Four finally acted on all that pent up tension. My smile turns into a smirk and he raises an eyebrow, his gaze still cold. Our greeting was downright emotional, but now we’re back at the beginning, cautiously staring at each other, neither of us willing to take the first step because that means exposing yourself and could be considered a weakness.

Finally I sigh and get up, letting the water cascade off my body for a moment before reaching for a black towel I put out, carefully stepping over the edge of the tub and beginning to dry myself thoroughly, right in front of him. Cold fingers suddenly dig into my hips, pulling me backwards and against him. We don’t say a single word, don’t even make a sound, but I turn around and launch myself at him so hard that he stumbles backwards and into the wall. His hands are all over my back, my hair, my ass, while I wrap my legs around him like a vise and take great pleasure in destroying his carefully made up hair.  I was the first one to openly laugh at him and survive and it was this haircut that caused my outburst. I like it, sort of, even though I don’t and it’s none of my business anyway.

We don’t kiss, we never have, it is a ferocious attack of lips and tongues and teeth, biting and sucking and licking. Even this turns into a competition, to see who could win the upper hand. Ever since we met, while he was an initiate and I had to wait another damn year, we have been at each other’s throats both literally and figuratively speaking. No matter what competition we ended up in, it was always just too close to call unless one of us decided to play dirty and distract the other in every way possible, which is always. The first time we fucked - and there is no other word to accurately describe it - we were sparring, he had me pinned, I managed to headbutt him, he tried to choke me and I kicked him in the balls - this is our kind of foreplay.

Nobody said any of this is “healthy”.

There is blood on my lips and I’m not sure if it’s his or mine, and it’s really not important either way. We will both be walking around covered in scratches and bruises tomorrow, slightly smug and knowing full well that everyone can see, everyone knows and yet nobody dares to say a thing because we are both known to be very calm and reasonable humans.

That thought makes me chuckle against his throat and he growls, the first noises we made so far.

“Something funny there?”

“Yeah, your face.”

His hand tangles in my black hair and pulls my head back, he is not in the mood for some banter on the intellectual level of five year olds, and that’s okay. This is something that developed over time, we blow off some steam, destroy a piece of furniture or two, then comes the playful part. One time he chased me around the training room for half an hour, a fact that got him into a fight with Four the next day when he was complaining about having to watch that on the surveillance footage. It wasn’t so much the fact that we were naked and clearly having a lot of sex that bothered Eric, but the fact that Four saw him laughing and tickle me into submission. It was a one time lapse of judgement on our parts that never happened again after and we keep that private.

Eric wraps a thick strand of my hair around his hand and pulls, hard, making my scalp burn. With a growl I lash out and manage to leave three welts on his cheek, right under his eye. 

 "I thought you were fucking dead, Mina.“

That growl nearly drives me insane. It’s always a back and forth, a struggle for dominance we both know we won’t win, and I for my part have no interest in that happening in the first place. I’d be bored within minutes. I’m not one of those in our faction that go around screwing everyone in sight, and neither is he, as far as I know. There is no need to be physically close to anyone, just a search for release every now and then. He understands that and that’s what makes this work. That and the fact that he knows where my buttons are, and I know his.

“Excuse me for getting jumped by ten people while your precious soldiers ran away like little babies,” I snarl, biting down on his neck, hard. He has the advantage right now because I was in the tub, he is wearing an obscene amount of fabric that is in my way. With some acrobatics I lean back to reach under me and open his belt with one hand, he does absolutely nothing to help me but watches closely, smirking. I’ll get to wiping that off his face in just a moment. The very practical standard issue tactical pants are open and pushed down within moments and I tug down the elastic of his boxer briefs just enough to free his cock, not willing to waste any more time.

Using my legs I push myself up against his body and let gravity do the rest, dropping down again and slamming down onto him. It brings him back to the living and his smirk turns into a snarl, his fingers digging into my hips again. Eric pushes himself off the wall and starts to walk out of the bathroom while I dig my nails into his shoulders, pushing myself up and letting myself fall, at a slow and intense pace.

When I look at his face I can tell that something is off, that this doesn’t work for him as it usually does. It takes a few moments to sink in, but we’re so much alike that it’s sometimes hard to remember that we don’t share all the same thoughts and whatever little emotions we allow to seep through. Eric needs to be in control at all times, he hates feeling helpless as much as I do. And I, even though I can hardly be blamed for this, made him feel exactly that. I got myself captured and killed, that’s what everyone assumed, and there was nothing he could do. Eric might not care for me in a traditional way, but we have been doing this since my initiation four years ago. In some capacity I became a part of his life and I had the audacity to take that away from him. There will be hell to pay for the factionless, but if I want this to survive he needs to feel like he put things right. So I struggle to free myself from the confinement of his arms and am rewarded with a frown. If he thinks even for a moment that I’m giving him the upper hand he won’t like it. Letting myself fall backwards with my full body weight I loosen his grip and he snarls, trying to grab my wrist but I twist my arm away from him. In a flash I’m on my feet and pretending to walk away from him, but he wraps his arm around my waist and slams me into the sink. The vanity mirror gives me a great view of him and I meet his scowl with a wicked grin. “You fucking crazy bitch.” It takes about two seconds for him to force my legs apart and slam into me, making my hips collide with the cold porcelain. Eric pounds me relentlessly and I moan, even louder when he pulls my hair, twisting my head to the side. His eyes never leave mine in the mirror, his teeth are bared and he is spitting out curses with every thrust, insulting me and cursing my entire damn existence through his teeth. My body is covered in bruises from my restraints, my captors and my escape and Eric is adding more with each snap of his hip, each hard grip. But these new ones I won’t mind. The hand gripping my hip vanishes and comes down on my ass, hard, and my hiss elicits a chuckle. It’s a menacing sound, cold and cruel, but it goes straight to my core and makes my muscles tighten. I look at my own face in the mirror, flushed and blissful under scratches and bruises, and when I look at him again I feel my walls clench down tight. One last smirk from him and I unravel with a high pitched keen that is far beyond any words. Eric stares at me, watches me coming undone before he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Pushing deep into me he stills and I feel him come inside me with a low growl. His eyes fly open and the intensity makes my knees buckle. Panting I try to pull myself up but my muscles seem to fail me after the hot bath and exercise. Eric watches me for a moment, then he picks me up and carries me to his bedroom. “Maybe I missed you a little after all.” The murderous glare he shoots my way hasn’t worked a single time in all these years, but I appreciate the effort. “Shut up and sleep, Mina.” He positively throws me onto the mattress and stalks out of the room, by the time he returns with the first aid kit everyone here has at home I’m almost asleep and pretend not to notice how he starts to treat my wounds in a way that could almost be described as gentle.

PART TWO