#OH YEAH AND THE OLD STICKS IN A BUNDLE

[loud-whistling-yes]

🎢

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

... bestie all my fics are wild fucking rides in different flavours where do i even begin. i have three fics that have some resemblance of plot and theyre all fever dreams from drunk teenagers

i mean... maybe ohtwa has the wildest of rides? but like thats guaranteed with the fact that its about fucking. scattered au. also ebmc but like its only two chapters long. doesnt stop it from being weird as hell though

[universe-on-her-shoulders]

Prompt: Martha Jones spots The Fourteenth Doctor around London doing a mundane thing like food shopping. Thank you :)

At first, Martha wasn’t sure. It wasn’t that she didn’t recognise him; she’d know that hair and that side profile anywhere, even if he was now clad in jeans and a short-sleeved shirt instead of the long coat she’d been so used to. He was holding a jar of jam, reading the ingredients with bright interest, as though it were the most normal thing in the world to be in Tesco Express at ten o’clock on a Thursday night shopping for preserves; the basket beside him contained further mundanities like bread and milk, and she was so baffled by all of this that she tried to tell herself that it wasn’t him. It couldn’t possibly be him. He was a Time Lord, for god’s sake; he didn’t do dull things like buy pints of semi-skimmed milk or reduced Kingsmill white loaves.

But then he turned away from the shelf, sticking the jar in his basket, and the look on his face took her breath away. For several seconds she surveyed him as he continued to be unaware of her presence, and she tried to put her finger on what had changed. It was the eyes, she thought; there had been so many ghosts behind them when she’d first known him, and now he looked almost… well, serene. Calm. There were no spectres weighing heavily on his shoulders; there was no lingering pain in the easy, contented expression on his face as he scooped up his basket from his feet – still clad in Converse, because some things could never change – and then finally caught sight of her.

“Oh,” he said, the syllable hanging in the air between them for a moment, and she couldn’t read it; was he pleased to see her? Angry? Sad? Guilty? Was he about to cut and run? Then he beamed from ear to ear, really sincerely beamed, and held out his arms to her for – no, that couldn’t be right. He wanted a hug? Since when had he been a hugger? “Martha Jones!”

“Doctor,” she said reservedly, looking him up and down; he was older than he’d been since she last saw him, but all of the tension and impatient anxiety that he’d held within him seemed to have dissipated in the interceding years. Questions crowded her mind; questions about time and space and clothes and the air of contentment and – “Why are you in Tesco in Richmond?”

“Oh,” he said again, with dawning comprehension. “We’re out of bread.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” she asked, unable to stop herself.

“Oh,” he repeated for a third time, then ran a hand through his hair before chancing a glance at the checkouts, and for one awful moment she thought he might be about to bolt. “It’s sort of a long story, actually. Why don’t we pay and find a pub, or something? Unless you’ve got somewhere to be… is Mickey expecting you?”

“He can wait,” she said with amusement, irrationally touched that he’d remembered. “Yeah, alright. Let’s pay.”

“Why are you in Tesco in Richmond?” he enquired, flipping the question back on her with some of the old cheekiness that she was used to. “That’s the real question.”

“Staying with mum for a few weeks while we have the kitchen redone,” she told him as they headed towards the self-checkouts; she started scanning her items while he did the same at an adjacent terminal, and she half expected him to sonic it, or in some way cheat it – space cubes, or god knows what else – but instead he took out an honest-to-god wallet and tapped a perfectly normal credit card on the reader. Her surprise must have shown, because he shot her a sidelong grin as he bundled up his groceries in a canvas tote bag and hefted it onto his shoulder as she swiped her Clubcard and did the same.

“Bit different to the old days, isn’t it?” he said ruefully, and she laughed.

“Yeah, never had you down as a wallet sort of man.”

“It was a present. I lost my last four credit cards.”

“That sounds more like you.”

[lokisgoodgirl]

Sticks and Stones: The Lakes [Loki x Reader]

The Lakes Masterlist / Regular Masterlist Summary: (2) Resolved to make an effort, Loki tries his best. But old habits die hard, some harder than others. Warnings: Minors DNI. Language. Ex-Loki. Smut references/ Wankst. Humour/Mild angst. (w/c 4.8k) Recommended Folklore Track: Mirrorball

“Oh blast it all,” Thor wailed like a child, throwing a pile of sticks to the side. Another bundle of promising kindle had turned to mush in his hands.

“We need to find ones that aren’t wet, Odinson – I told you. Sometimes they don’t seem wet, but they are wet.” Steve instructed, standing abruptly from where he’d sat on his haunches. Dismay was thick in the air. “Everything is wet here, Rogers." Thor whinged, kicking leaves. "The allusive flame taunts me.”

Loki sucked in his cheeks. The urge to expel a witty innuendo was almost unbearable. But he was trying to be amenable. Turning over a new leaf, as it were.

When the four of them had trudged back to the cottage last night, Loki had turned in to his sparse lodgings immediately with only the most cursory of bedtime salutations. To his surprise, sleep had descended quickly. He had been expecting to toss and turn for hours on that thin single bed, cursing Rogers and his brother and you; each with the time and thoroughness that was due. But he had slept well. And when he woke, the smell of bacon wafting through the floorboards greeted him.

Your laughter chimed against the clatter of porcelain downstairs, his brothers following suit. He had snuggled deeper into the lumpy pillow, inhaling in the way he used to against your hair. And now, beneath a canopy of green and gold autumnal majesty, they had made camp for this morning’s torture; fire-building. Loki buried his hands in another damp pile of foliage, grasping a hunk of twigs he found there. To hel with it, he thought as he closed his eyes; feeling secretive warmth spreading from his fingertips. Magic wrapped around each stick of wood concealed beneath copper leaves, drying it instantly. He glanced over to you, thrumming some moss between your fingers. “I found some dry ones,” he said nonchalantly, hoping it sounded believable.

You peered at his outstretched hands. “Oh yeah…” you replied. Loki frowned as your attention swung back to the wisped moss being pulled apart in your fingertips. “Well, let’s get this show on the road.” Thor looked over at his brother, aghast. “Cheater,” he rumbled loudly. To his side, only Steve’s ass was visible, shaking side to side as he still searched on his hands and knees through the undergrowth for where dry wood might lurk. Loki turned, one palm facing up. A column of ferocious flame burst from his skin, funnelling up like a portal. The sound of its violence ripped the air, squawks of local wildlife jibbering in the trees above. Steve lost his balance, falling to the side into the shrubbery. He let out a strangled cry, while Thor scooted backwards and knocked him further into the bushes.

“If I wanted to cheat,” Loki snarled, “there would be much easier ways to do so, brother.”

As quickly as it appeared, the flame ceased.

Loki turned back to you, smoothing his anorak. “Sorry about that,” he quipped with a cheerful smile.

In the time it had taken to complete his theatrics, you had selected one of his pile which you deemed suitable. You turned it over in your hands, fingers curled around the trunk of the weighty stick. Loki swallowed thickly. The innocently sensual glint in your eyes as you looked at it was almost too much to bear. Or maybe it was his imagination.

You hadn’t raised a smile all day, after all. He knelt on his haunches, mirroring your intrigue while you ran a finger down the larger stick. “We need to whittle a groove down here” you said. Loki nodded, moving his eyes between the line your digit took and your face.

Your eyes met.

He saw your gaze drop to his lips, only for a millisecond. “Could you?” you whispered, avoiding eye contact again.

In a flash of green, Loki produced a short dagger. He held it to you, handle first.

“I mean really we should use the one in your pack,” you smirked, eyeing Steve brushing sodden leaves from his ass as Thor fumbled fruitlessly in the undergrowth in a last ditch attempt. Loki felt his heart pound faster. He saw his chance. “But mine is better, Agent” he murmured darkly. “You know that.” “Guys – come over, please!” you shouted over his shoulder. Loki flinched. Truly, she now immune from my overtures, he mused bitterly; remembering the times a line like that would have had you groaning in his ear like a harlot.

He smoothed a rakish curl back from his forehead, collecting himself while his brother and the captain gathered round. Thor was muttering Asgardian curses under his breath, his hair wild. Twigs stuck out at obscure angles, a small slug clinging to the scruff of his jawline. Loki peeled it off, flicking it away.

“I think not that I was made for nature, brother,” Thor lamented under his breath. Loki chuckled, cut short as his dagger, poised in your hand, began to cut away at the centre of the large stick. There was a sharp intake of breath beside him. “That’s not standard issue,” Steve chided quietly, lips hardening. Loki folded his arms, elbowing Rogers in the process. “Watch what I’m doing,” you said sternly, eyeing the men with suspicion. They stood in rapt attention, watching every rut of the blade, every splinter and chunk which sprung forth. But not Loki.

Loki watched your face. Each furrow of your brow, flick of concentration, ghost of a smile as you looked with satisfaction at the result. “Perfect,” you murmured to yourself, running a cautious fingertip through the rough groove. “Now what?” Thor grunted. “Tis still a damnable stick.” You laughed the sweetest, most condescending laugh that Loki had ever heard.

It made his heart twist in his chest. “Now...you each take one of these” you handed each of them a smaller stick from Loki's haul. Loki’s was the longest.

A smirk curled the corners of his mouth against his better judgement. You rolled your eyes, snatching it back and switching it with Steve. “Sharpen these, so they are at a 45 degree angled point. Remember your angles from yesterday, Thor?” Thor frowned. You made the angle with your forearm. “Ah, yes” he smiled. “The little mountain.” For the next few minutes, Loki felt your appraising stare fall on him in intervals. He crafted his edge to perfection, sliding the dagger’s blade so close to the wood’s bark it almost shone. The rough hacking of the other men’s pocketknives peppered the air. Aside from that, and birdsong, there was silence.

When all of them had finished, you called them back around a small, cleared patch of forest floor. The branch with the groove you had made lay on the ground. The three men stared at it, sharpened sticks in hand. Suddenly it all felt very...human. They glanced at each other vacantly. “Loki?” you chirped, gesturing to the ground. He raised an eyebrow.

“On my knees?” he heard himself purr, the feigned incredulity palpable. You nodded sternly, just once.

“Very well,” he murmured, sinking down.

His knees hit the leaves with a crisp, gentle thump.

Immediately, wetness began to seep into the fabric. Like the gusset of her underwear, he mulled. He looked up at you the way he used to while you would have him kiss up your thighs, yanking his hair as he atoned for some imagined grave misdeed with sexual favour. The essence of his vulnerability. A rarity, only for you. He was such a slut for you, back then. Anything you desired. Anything he desired- “Loki?!” you snapped. He had been staring at your chest, eyes glazed. Carefully, he tilted his chin upwards. “Apologies,” he husked. The swallow which bobbed in your throat made his loins ache. Your voice was high. Higher than she intends, surely; he thought.

“Kind of...position it so the big stick with the groove is between your knees-” you’d said.

Loki shuffled, straddling the branch. It brushed the bulge of his cock pulsing lightly against his trousers. “Between my thighs, you say?” he asked innocently. “No, your knees. Well – thighs, sort of yes. Just keep it steady.” You were becoming flustered, Loki noticed. Loki liked that.

You bent down slightly, touching the hard round of his bicep before recoiling like it was a hot stove. “You um...hold the stick like this, no...like-”

Kneeling beside him, you adjusted the angle of his hands to grip the smaller, pointed stick. “That’s it...and then you rub it back and-” you swallowed, “-back and forth. On the one between your thighs. Knees.” Loki bit his lip, beginning to do just that. The sound was awful as his pace quickened after the first few strokes. Scraping, raw squeals that jarred the air.

“Like this?” he panted. A mist of sweat was forming at his hairline. He could feel it tingle.

“Like that,” you replied shakily. Your breaths were short. They were in time with the thrust of his arms as you hovered by his shoulder, guiding his wrist as it pumped back and forth. Thor and Steve glanced silently at each other, brows raised.

Loki saw Thor’s jaw drop from the corner of his eye, a meaty finger protruding from one straightened arm to the smoke beginning to waft from the groove. “Look, Rogers…” he gasped with the wonder of a child. The smoke became thicker, billowing in heavy flow. You fumbled to the side, grabbing some tufts of dried moss.

“Now tip it in, tip the ash in-” you said frantically, barely contained excitement in your voice. Loki complied, watching as the smouldering embers blossomed within the web of moss.

“Be careful,” he whispered, setting the stick in his hands down. He brought them up protectively around the moss. You held it forward, “blow, Loki” you murmured, keeping your eyes fixed on the small ball which had begun to smoke.

“Blow?” he said, forehead creasing while you nodded. Your eyes narrowed at the tuft clenched between your fingers. “Until you get-” “-a spark,” Loki finished quietly.

He blew on the moss, flinching as the vegetation burst with flame. Thor and Steve gasped, crowding round as you dropped the raging ball of fire to the groove of the stick below. You grabbed Loki’s spear, prodding the moss. Loki opened his mouth and closed it again.

He felt that he should be bored. Or annoyed. Longing for home comforts and solitude or some such. But, admittedly, he would not have thought of this whole scenario. Against his wishes, he had learned something.

What you had done? How you had transformed nothing into...something. Like magic. When he set fire to things, he cared not how they burned. Just that they burned. And, Loki thought, they always do.

After what felt like an eternity, Loki closed the door to the cottage and turned the key.

He was the last one in, favouring a meandering pace behind the three others huddled together in a jovial formation. Water saturated him, rolling in thick droplets from his forehead down the carve of his jawline. He had never known rain like it. It had fallen like milk, heavy and thick and relentless in every direction.

Hair was plastered to his skull, to his neck. It stuck in clumpy tendrils and made a weird noise against the garish anorak when he moved. He flicked his hands forward with frustration. The clench of his stomach against the soaking fleece made him shudder.

After the first attempt, he had reluctantly admitted there was no point in drying himself every ten seconds. Even magic, he had surmised, was no match for the English countryside.

Muffled roars sounded from the living room. Loki rounded the corner, cursing every squelching step. Predictably, his brother’s head was lodged in the soaking neck of his roll neck sweater. His hiking trousers lay in a bedraggled heap on the floor, water pooling around them through the floorboards. Muddy bootprints were smeared in circles over the rug. Steve held the hem of the sweater, rolled over Thor’s head and arms, yanking it. “I’m going-to take-your gosh-darned-head-off,” he grunted; before there was a wet pop. Thor stumbled backwards, landing in a chair in the corner. He began to laugh.

Loki rolled his eyes. “I wish to bathe,” he said plainly before turning to the doorway. Steve’s eyes widened. “The lady got first dibs, Laufeyson. You’ll have to wait. Shouldn’t have dallied on the ridge.” Loki froze, a grimace descending.

He closed his eyes, clicking his neck with a tilt to the side. Thor laughed, shaking his head. He pointed to Loki, then to Steve. “What need have we three of hot baths?”

“Speak not to me of my affinity of baths. Tis you who had your very own bathhouse on Asgard” Loki snarled. He rolled his molars, the deep chill setting into his bones only half born from the wet clothes sticking to every crevice. He looked longingly at the bathroom door, thinking of what lay out of reach. The sweet caress of hot water on his aching muscles, covering his weather-worn limbs with the kiss of a million bubbles that only sought to bring him pleasure. A vision of your naked body sinking in foam fluttered in front of his waking eyes, your lips parted to the ceiling as you let your thighs fall open-

The boiler made an alarming rattle in the kitchen.

“I’ll check it,” he muttered, casting a final glance to the bathroom door as he passed. He heard a splash. And then a small groan of satisfaction.

In the kitchen, Loki gripped the counter-lip and hung his head. He stared at the greyed cream of the surface while seidr rolled up his body, every inch of sodden fabric plastered to him airing free. A waft hit his hair, blowing it over his shoulders. Shaking it back, his eyes meeting the row of mis-matched mugs from yesterday. “When in Nilfheim,” he mumbled to himself like a mantra.

He returned to the living room, three steaming mugs in hand. The others had managed to light a stove in the corner and were now wearing pyjamas. Tops and bottoms, Loki noticed. A rarity indeed. He looked again at the fire. The flames were small, but they were there. He decided to be pleasant. “Did you use the groove technique?” Loki smiled, setting a mug down on the armrest of Thor’s chair. The men laughed while Loki straightened, staring pensively into the licking flames. With mild interest, the god realised that this was the first time he had been in this room. No mean feat, considering that the cottage only had three downstairs. The kitchen, the bathroom, and this one. He glanced around at the sparse décor, as antiquated and dulled and beige as the other spaces. “I remember those,” Steve nodded, aiming towards a radio on a corner-shelf. Loki chuckled, before sipping his tea. He smacked his lips. “Honestly, Rogers. What possessed you to house us in this place? Surely there are nicer.” Steve shrugged. “I thought it would be good for us,” he said, brushing his pyjama bottoms. “I mean, look at this chair!?” Loki exclaimed, gesturing to where his brother sprawled. It was some kind of cream leather, cracked at the worn areas where a thousand mortal arses had sat. Stains adorned the peel of its chafed skin. “A son of Odin, in a chair such as that. It’s insulting.” The words were bitter, but a playful smile tugged at his lips. Steve saw it. “Actually it is rather comfortable, brother” Thor piped up. He re-adjusted himself, leaning backwards, “rather comfortable indee-” In a flash, his tea sloshed in the air; hands flying to grip the armrest as the whole chair slid back to a lying position. Loki jumped to his feet, seidr fizzling in the palms of his hands. “Calm down,” Steve said, patting Loki’s lower back. “It’s a recliner, it’s supposed to do that. Had those in my day too.”

There was silence but for the crackling of the fire which had grown to a healthy blaze. It was comfortable. Loki quietly transformed his clothes to the flannel pyjama bottoms that had lain neatly folded beneath his pillow upstairs. “What about the top? You’ll freeze.” Steve murmured, pulling his mug closer to his chin. Loki smiled, shaking his head. Fresh curls bounced around his collarbone. “I think not that a thin layer of cotton will help in that regard, Rogers.” “Modesty, then” Steve scoffed, nudging his head in the direction of the bathroom. Both brothers rolled their eyes.

“Our dear Agent has seen me in much more raucous states of undress, I assure you” he sniffed, staring pointedly at the flames. He could almost feel the wrinkle of Steve’s nose. There was another silence which hung between them, heavier this time. “What happened, Loki?” Steve whispered, leaning forward like a teen girl at a sleepover. He pulled the blanket in his lap to his chest. “Between you and-” he gestured with his head again towards the door. “You guys were pretty perfect together seemed like.” Loki bristled, feeling his brothers eyes on him too. He knew it would come to this. “We had an irreconcilable differing of opinion.” “On what?” “On me.”

Loki straightened, rolling his shoulders back and resting an ankle on his knee for good measure. Casual. The scratch of cheap upholstery made his back tingle. “Well that could mean all manner of things, brother. You are insufferable.”

Loki swallowed, blinking several times. Steve reached out, patting his hand gently, but Loki flapped it away. “Apparently I am...what were her words exactly? Oh, yes. Haughty. Condescending. Unwaveringly arrogant.” He looked pointedly between the men. “I mean, can you believe that?!” Thor and Steve’s eyes met, each waiting for the other to speak first.

“Well, yes” they said in sync.

Loki bristled again, raking a hand through his hair. “Not to the point where it subsumes all my admirable qualities, surely?” he said, beginning to pick at the green of his bottoms. “I mean really. Is it truly arrogance if what I say is true? I cannot help being a god.”

Silence was deafening.

Loki looked to the side, seeing Steve’s face contorted in a theatrical twist. One eyebrow was raised, lips stretched over his teeth in a grimacing caricature. “You do go on about it a lot.” he said out of the corner of his mouth.

“Indeed, brother.” Thor concurred. He nestled back in the recliner with a satisfied sigh. “I shouldn’t have to walk with these groceries...I am a god. I have no need of a parking permit, I am a god...I can only imagine how it is to be your significant other, especially for so long-” “Hey, Thor – did Loki tell you about ‘that time’ on Asgard?” “Why yes Rogers he did. All of them. And anyone else who’d listen. Especially the part which highlights exactly how impressive it is that he is...” “-a god,” they both finished. Loki stared between them, open mouthed. His furious gaze landed on his brother. The betrayal in his voice was palpable. “How dare you,” he growled. “You’re one to talk, spouting off about your powers and flaunting your lineage at every chance you can grasp. The audacit-” Thor raised a waggling finger in the air, pushing his feet against the chair and sitting upright. “Ah-ah-ah, brother. But I am both self-effacing and charming, isn’t that right Rogers?” he beamed. “He is quite charming.” Steve agreed, reluctantly. “You on the other hand...it comes across as more..” The three of them looked between each other. Loki’s face fell.

“Oh,” he said quietly.

Of all the times your gentle hands had cupped his, your caring words of encouragement that he think more of what he was saying; he had not listened. Not really. The armour of arrogance was a comfort to him. It was secure, unchanging. Unlike everything else. And in truth, he’d thought you’d liked it. Despite your occasional protestations.

Until the end, that was.

A creak from the hallway signalled your imminent emergence from the bathroom.

In all the commotion, none of them had heard the boiler cease its ragged howl. A few seconds later, your head poked around the door. Wetted hair fell around your shoulders, sticking to the curve of your neck. Loki looked up through his lashes, stomach fluttering as your palm slid innocently down the wooden frame. Moisture still clung to your skin.

Loki hoped you weren’t cold. “I’m going to bed, I’ll see you in the morning” you said, looking to Thor and Steve before your eyes met his. He looked away quickly. “Goodnight,” the three of them chimed, some more enthusiastically than others. You stepped out in full view for a moment, adjusting the towel around your body. “Did you use the groove technique?” you smiled, nodding to the fire. “My brother made the same joke already,” Thor said, reclining on the deceptively comfortable chair again with a flourish. “But alas, no.” Loki’s heart skipped as you focused on him. Something swam in your eyes as you twisted the towel by your armpit. Something that wasn’t irritation, or coldness. He saw your covert gaze drop to his neck, lower to his chest, then to the flat of his stomach. He shifted, curling his long legs up on the sofa.

“Join us,” he said, gesturing to an empty armchair in the corner. You shook your head, offering a weak smile. “I’m exhausted, clearly you guys have more stamina than I do.” Loki felt the mighty need to agree rise in his throat. To articulate the validity of your statement, and its infinite reasoning and commend your observations. For the first time, he was aware of its overwhelming crawl upwards like dragon-fire, sanctimonious empty words writhing like live insects in his mouth – desperate to be spat. He forced them down, under the watchful eye of Steve. The words sat in his stomach like a stone.

“Goodnight, Agent.” Loki murmured with a respectful nod. You returned it silently, before closing the door.

A sliver of open curtain cast moonlight on the wall.

Loki stared at it.

Then he stared at it some more. How long had he lain here? He turned, grasping at the vintage midgardian alarm clock on the side. He squinted. Nine-forty. Loki groaned, rolling back against the lumpy mattress. Tonight, unlike the last, sleep evaded him. Although he had only been in the maze of his thoughts for fifteen minutes, it felt like eternity. Why could he not read you? It was always so easy before, he pondered. His eyes tracked along a crack in the ceiling. Before she raised the drawbridge.

He sighed.

If what Rogers and his brother said was in truth, then it meant the unthinkable. That she was right to do what she did. Was he truly so conceited that he had let love which evaded him so long slip through his grasp for the sake of his pride? For what? To feel important for a fleeting moment? A thousand fleeting moments would be more accurate. A chill ran down his spine. Does she think that, in truth, I never cared for her at all? He closed his eyes, attempting to diminish the intrusive thought. In an act of mercy, his mind conjured the memory of you wrapped in only the towel downstairs. Hair wet, droplets kissing down your neck as you played with the side of the cotton.

‘Come here, Agent’ he would growl, spreading his thighs wider on the bed’s edge. He knew how much you loved the thickness of his thighs. At least, you used to. The version of you still in love with him would sashay across the room, bare feet leaving wet imprints on the floorboards. A coy smile playing on your pouted lips.

Would you wait until you had straddled him to release the towel, or in the moment before you did so? Loki pondered this for a moment, before deciding to indulge in both.

He could feel his cock hardening uncomfortably against the crotch of his pyjama pants, the spill of your perfect breasts into his imaginary hands making it throb. ‘Darling,’ he would sigh as he buried his face in your cleavage. His thumbs would graze your delicate nipples, guiding them to his open lips as you ground against his lap. A hand would nudge his tip inside your perfect heat before you edged down...down to meet the root. And then, you would kiss. You always wanted to kiss the first time you were fully joined. Entwined. Twin-gasps would fill the air, giving way to moans of quiet pleasure as Rogers and his brother slept next door.

Or tried to, at least. Loki spat in his hand, before slipping it beneath the waistband of his pyjamas. Cold fingers wrapped around the mass of untended lust that waited. He pumped once, pulling the foreskin back gently and letting his fist nestle against the neat of his pubic hair.

A ragged exhale escaped him.

How long has it been, he wondered briefly, before tightening his grip.

He extended his thumb, pressing harshly against velvet flesh as he swept upwards. The god’s eyes rolled back in the darkness, back arching up into his pleasure. Low pants began to pepper the air around him, each swipe of his hand more frantic than the last.

Too loud.

He bit his lip, eyes screwed shut while visions of you flashed through his mind. He settled on a memory of you in his bedroom in the tower. His hands were tied behind his back as he sat on the edge of the bed you shared, your fingers curling around his abs as they clenched beneath the touch. Your lips fastening around his trembling cock as you made him yours in each stroke of your tongue. Each slurping kiss that lingered as you sucked, his head falling back as he lost himself in you. Always, he thought between staggered breaths. Completely hers.

Loki’s fingers dug into the mattress, the rough methodical slap of his fist against flesh a din to his ears. But gods, it felt so good. He needed this. Needed to allow himself a stolen moment of pleasure where you loved him still.

Climax began to bubble in his deepest centre, swirling behind his eyelids. Loki’s thumb circled the tip with every fuck of his palm, squeezing tighter while droplets of precum made the pyjama pants damp. His teeth were gritted to the ceiling, bared in a grimace. His chin pointed upwards, the pillow folding in on his cheekbones with the force of the brace. His breaths were short. ‘Mmmm’ The god’s eyes shot open.

He paused, wincing as his fist froze tightly halfway down his cock. His ears pricked, concentrating. ‘Mmmm-uh’

Loki’s head fell to the side, facing the wall. The wall on the other side of which, you lay.

He closed his eyes, summoning every magnification of his senses that he could. Your voice. No more than a whisper, seeping through the stone.

‘Loki, yes…’

He’d know those sweet sighs of pleasure anywhere.

A breath he’d been holding rattled free, timed with a tentative tug of his cock.

He could hear everything now. The rustle of bedsheets tangled around your knees, the beat of your heart quickening as you reached your peak with him in your head. The press of your fingers on that spot just about your plump, beautiful clit. Were you imagining the flat of his tongue caressing against your desire? Loki thought you were. Orgasm began to rise alongside some unplaced feeling, his legs tensing; toes curling into the mattress.

She wants me.

In a split-second decision, he whipped the bedsheets from his body and jumped cat-like to the floor. Within two strides, he had opened the door with a creak and slipped into the cramped hallway. Your door loomed before him, adjacent to his own.

What are you doing, he thought; suddenly horrified as the chill set in. He looked down, cock hard and leaking against his pyjama pants.

He began to step back, emitting the loudest groan of a floorboard he had ever heard in his life. Loki grimaced, hushing the accursed building with clawed fingers. But it was too late. He heard the succession of your bare feet meeting the floor, and in a matter of seconds; your door opened. Just a crack. “Loki?” you warily whispered into the darkness. He cleared his throat softly, casting a glance over his shoulder before daring to meet your questioning eyes. That dragon-fire bubbled in his stomach like acid, quippy lines and heavy-handed flirtations that begged to be freed.

How had he never noticed before how much effort it took, not to let them out? I thought you might need a hand, You called for me, so I’ve come to... make you c- I know you still desire me, which is to be expected, Admit it, no one can pleasure you like me, For old times sake- Because, Loki realised, he had never tried. You opened the crack of the door wider, looking to either side of the landing suspiciously. His eyes ran from your bare feet to the hem of a nightdress falling around your thighs. He recognised that nightdress. Your favourite. It had dead leaves on it, which he never understood. But maybe now, in this place, he finally did.

You only wore it when the nights grew colder. And only when he was not there to hold you for warmth.

Which these days, he thought with a pang, is always.

All too late, the god realised he had become distracted from his newfound restraint. It had wound like ivy around his thoughts, vines twisting and flourishing with alarming speed. But there was nothing to be done about it now. “I thought you might want some... company,” he growled suggestively.

His cock pressed ferociously against his hip, covered from view by one thick forearm.

Your eyebrows rose beneath a deadpan stare. “You can’t be serious.” Like an out of body experience, Loki raised the forearm covering his crotch to rest high on the door-frame. The unmistakable scent of your arousal seeped into his nostrils, an interrupted climax lingering in the air.

Moonlight from the cracks in your curtains licked across his chest, his obliques – casting deep shadows in his cheekbones, Loki would wager.

Hair fell around his jaw, tingling the flushed skin. He could feel his manhood pressing eagerly against the cotton, as desperate for your touch as it always had been. The thrill that in mere seconds, he would feel you against him again where you belonged. The heat of your skin flush to his own, the muffled mewls from your lips as you kissed, the insatiable wandering of your hands as you devoured him like an addict’s first fix. You would be so happy. This time, Loki would make sure of that.

He looked down deep into your eyes, smouldering with all his might. “Deadly, darling.” he purred.

Your disbelieving stare fell to his crotch. It widened. “Oh my god, Loki.” you hissed. “Yes...?” he crooned presumptively in response. The rakish smile spreading barely had time to reach his eyes before the door slammed in his face, almost taking Loki’s fingers with it to the other side.

>>Chapter Three: A Long Way Down Tags (contd in comments)

@lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @holdmytesseract @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @mrs-illyrian-baby @icytrickster17 @multifandom-worlds @muddyorbs @buttercupcookies-blog @arch-venus25 @nine-leafclover @iamlokisgloriouspurpose

[cloveroctobers]

NOTHING SWEETER — BODE LEONE: [Spring Prompts]

A/N: This will probably flop since it’s basically a ghost town in this tag but here I am! Plus it was also requested for me to write for Bode (again) lol which I don’t have a problem with, we love that guy over here. They’re wrong for going on break after giving us what they gave us! I also just want to say that I really miss Max’s curls but here it goes!!

PROMPT IS FROM HERE + I’m using: 18.  “Damn, I hate pollen.” + 8.  “IT’S A DEER!” “Yeah, and?” “I CAN SEE IT!”

<- read my previous anthology prompt here.

⋆˙⟡♡✿ ⋆˙⟡♡✿ ⋆˙⟡♡✿ ⋆˙⟡♡✿ ⋆˙⟡♡✿ ⋆˙⟡ ♡

Eve was lucky you loved her.

Being up this early on your first day back in Edgewater to give her a ride to Three Rock (her car was in the shop) was a lot to ask! Not really! but what kind of friend would you be if you didn’t complain a good portion about it on the ride up to camp?

“If I get you an iced coffee, would you love me again?” Eve pinched the space in between her brows, elbow resting against the car door.

You hummed while using one hand to tap on your chin, “Add in a Mozzarella, Pesto, and tomato bagel then we’ll talk.”

Eve twisted her lips upwards, “…that’s a thing? Whatever happened to a simple cream cheese with eggs and avocado?”

“You’re lucky I’m not asking for a soft boiled egg stuffed with caviar.” You respond as you reduce your speed once you cross the bridge, spying the familiar deli spot up ahead.

Eve scoffed as she side eyed you, “oh yeah, Switzerland done made you bougie.”

Which earned a laugh from you as you pulled the Toyota 4Runner into the small parking lot. If you weren’t a bundle of nerves you would have got out of the car with Eve to see what changed about the deli you spent many afternoons in with your old friends. However you let your mind wander a bit as you stared out into edgewater’s view.

You were home…except your childhood home was just a memory now that your divorced parents no longer resided in Edgewater. So you crashed at Eve’s although you were completely fine staying in a hotel since Jake talked you out of an air bnb after watching some movie called, “Barbarian,” and you were tired of hearing the statistics and other real life horror stories he pulled out of his ass. Eve was your number one best friend and she was more than willing to open up her place for a friend like you.

As you took up a interest in archery and later turned into a professional Archer, you were inspired to see what the world had in store so the sooner you got out of Edgewater, the better it was for you. Some just didn’t get it (your parents mainly, with your mother being an orthopedic surgeon and your father a fire chief before his MS took over) and expected you to start your own roots here. It was kind of a thing here in this small town, that you were to begin again and build your own legacy. However you were in the tiny group of odd’s that wanted more than the expectations hanging over your head.

Which is why you were proud to say that you’ve been participating in the Olympics every few years because of your passion for archery. Of course you had people down your neck all throughout your career but you still stood as tall as you could.

Now you were back home in the place that was full of doubts but the tightness in your chest wasn’t as noticeable the closer you got to camp.

“Thanks for dropping me off, I appreciate it.” Eve starts as she spots a few inmates hanging around on the yard already, “If you stick around for a minute I’ll even do you a solid and send Bode your way. Since I know it’ll be difficult otherwise.”

Taking a deep inhale you say, “I still can’t believe he’s here.”

“Yeah well…if he stays on the right track this time he’ll be out even sooner.” Eve tells, “He’s still a big pain in all of our asses but I think it would do him some good to see you…you did come all this way.”

It’s been years since you last saw each other but you came back for Riley’s funeral and you reached out to Bode when he moved away to a few towns over and changed his last name. You tried to be there even being ocean’s apart but when Bode felt low, it always felt like he wanted to take the world on his shoulder’s and find a way to make it spin again. Yet that landed him in prison and Eve had no problem filling you in on everything in between.

Would he even want to see you? It’s not like your relationship turned sour or anything…it’s just been awhile being in contact with each other. You weren’t nearly this anxious seeing Eve and doubted you would be when you had lunch with Jake and Cara—which was still weird to you—But being near Bode was different from everybody else and you knew that.

“I did…didn’t I?” You loll your head to face Eve, who studies it for a moment before dipping her head.

She tapped her hand against the outside of the door, whispering into the spring air, “it’ll be fine. He’s in a much better headspace and you’re still family no matter where you disappear off to, you got that?”

A watery smile goes Eve’s way before she leaves you to collect yourself. You’re pulling your mirror down from the sun visor, patting underneath your eyes and beginning to second guess yourself. You were here for two weeks and there was no way that you planned on not seeing Bode. You ran into his parents just last night at the bar, craving some wings before heading to Eve’s, just to be received with warm arms and classic banter from the Leone’s.

They were the parents you could talk to more than your own. If you weren’t crashing at Eve’s then you would definitely be at the Leone’s but then Bode and Cara happened so that’s when some of the distance was created. They didn’t last, like most teenage relationships but out of respect you felt like it was the right thing to do.

It felt right being back, even if it was only temporary.

Maybe that’s just how you had to view Bode’s situation. He wasn’t a temporary kind of friend although you couldn’t socialize as much but you tried to be hopeful. Even climbed out of the car pacing back and forth, not paying much attention to anyone around until you spotted the green dust decorating the navy car.

Scowling in disgust, you swiped the arm of your jacket around the hood of your car before cringing at the greenery you wiped on your sweatpants afterwards.

“Damn, I hate pollen.” A voice comes from behind, which makes you slowly stand up straight and glance over your shoulder.

There he was.

Bode Leone, standing in the flesh, hands deep in his jacket pockets, and a small smile on his lips.

You fully turn to face him and tilt your head to the side, “Didn’t I tell you once before that Orange isn’t your color?”

Bode lifts his shoulders with humor in his blue-green eyes as he motions towards the spot on you, “yeah, well maybe green isn’t yours either.”

You scoff as you motion to your outfit, “what? You don’t think I’m pulling it off?”

The blond chuckles as he takes a step towards you, “As long as you don’t start itching then sure, whatever you say.”

“Oh,” you scratch at the back of your hand and shoot a glare at the man who’s got crinkles by his eyes now, “why did you have to go and say that Bode! Now I’m doing it!”

“Sorry! It’s just that I sorta remembered that you were sensitive to almost everything including air.” He says to you, teasing somewhat, now standing face to face with you.

Rolling your eyes you couldn’t help but to smile at that. You didn’t know what it was growing up in high school, you were highly allergic to almost everything which landed you in the nurses office a lot but it seemed to relax as you reached your twenties and moved away. You always joked that maybe it was Edgewater that was making you sick. Yet the longer you stood in this town and interacted with not only Eve but Bode, you knew that wasn’t completely true.

“It’s good to see you, Bo.” You lightly shove his shoulder back while he nods in agreement, “can I give you a hug?”

Bode blinks the furrow of his brows away as if you were being ridiculous, “of course you can.”

And you’re cradling the back of his head while his fingers are at your spine, swaying from side to side in a firm but gentle squeeze. Then he’s burying his nose into your shoulder and the feel of the embrace tells you that this was meant to be.

When your eyes open, you realize that you could live just fine in Bode’s arms. You remember your final kiss goodbye in Drayscott, one month before you left the country and one month before Bode attempted to pull off a robbery—it was the sweetest thing—the kiss obviously! because it should have been happened. It didn’t come out of nowhere, it was full of intention, full of wonder and love but you were aware that it wasn’t the right time to be something more.

Maybe some day it could be.

Little did you know, Bode kept that memory not far away. He was kicking himself for the what if’s but when he manages to pull himself out of the blue, he thinks about the best possibility being you.

The both of you could be good together, could see the world together and he wasn’t sure how it all looked but he was willing to imagine.

A gasp makes Bode pull away, alarmed.

“IT’S A DEER!” You point, over Bode’s shoulder.

He glances over his shoulder to in fact see the said brown animal, peering at the two of you, “Yeah, and?”

“I CAN SEE IT!” You attempt to lower your voice but the excitement got the best of you as you almost bounce on your toes.

Bode’s still lightly has a hand resting on your waist now, as they watch the beautiful creature sniff at the grass and carried on deeper and away into the woods.

“Are you telling me they don’t have deer out in Switzerland?” There’s amusement in Bode’s voice as he peeks back at you.

“I’ve been in the city mainly but it’s been awhile since I’ve really been one with nature, you know? Which reminds me, I’ll have to make time to go off roading with this baby one of these days. Or hiking.” You jam a thumb back at the car.

Bode nods, “you’ll be careful won’t you? Don’t get so easily impressed with animals, not all of them will have the best intentions.”

You were an animal lover back in the day, so much to the point you wouldn’t dissect a frog sophomore year, which landed you in the principal’s office.

“What?” You blow a raspberry, “I’m like freaking Princess Aurora. Animals love me.”

Bode squints his eyes, “…didn’t you get bit by a goat when we were like what? Fourteen?”

“You’re really killing my vibe man and I don’t like that.” You yank on the end of Bode’s hair who laughs again.

He raises his hands in surrender and grips your wrist from his head, “alright, alright. My bad but if it makes you feel better, I still have that scar after that horse kicked the shit out of me when we had too many drinks partying at Tamsin Kadoka’s farm.”

“Really?”

Bode nods, “yeah, right on my lower back and it’s shaped like Utah.”

You meet each other’s gaze before bursting out laughing in unison at yet another memory. He’s gripping your shoulder again while he’s got your attention, “just promise me when you’re out there in those woods that you’re careful. I’d hate it if something happened to you.”

“Well the feeling is mutual, Bo.” You state, “you just had to go on and choose firefighting huh?”

Bode shrugs, “Must be in the Leone blood.”

“Yeah, must be.” You murmur, staring at him like there’s stars getting ready to rise in your eyes and Bode can’t help but to lean forward to place a lingering kiss on your forehead.

His facial hair pricks you but you don’t mind.

“Leone!” A guard calls out, which means your time is up for now.

You hold his hand, interlocking your fingers, which he squeezes with a smile to match, eyes wandering all over your features, almost as if to tell himself that you are in fact really here.

“Until next time?” He questions.

You smile, “See you soon, Bode.”

And he grins at you, those crinkles by his eyes returning before he slips his hand from yours.

This was brief but sweet and you’re mentally kicking yourself for thinking that this could go wrong.

You’re watching Bode walk away from you and he can’t help but to jog backwards to get another look at you. Almost as if you would disappear again and you would never see him again. When he turns back around, heading to the guard on shift who announces the inmates need to get ready for line ups inside at the bunks, he meets up with Cole on his way.

“Who was that?” Cole nudges his chin in your direction.

You’re seated in the driver’s seat, window down, leaning on your arm as you watch the men in Orange make their way back inside.

Catching Bode’s eye, you wave before rolling your window almost all the way up and pull away from the camp site.

“Someone i would like to give the world and more to once im out of here.”

Cole is smirking but appreciates the honesty as he claps Bode on his shoulder, already knowing what that look is for. “Then let’s make it happen, Leone! Nothing sweeter than having something on the outside to fight for, you know?”

“I agree.” Bode pulls his gaze from your retreating car, finding himself standing up straighter as they awaited for Eve to start their day.

When Eve’s brown eyes set on Bode’s, he just barely tips in his head in thanks, which the woman echo’s as she carries on along the line.

Bode already can’t wait for the next day he can get reconnected with you in person again so, he bites his smile away.

⋆˙⟡♡✿ ⋆˙⟡♡✿ ⋆˙⟡♡✿ ⋆˙⟡♡✿ ⋆˙⟡♡✿ ⋆˙⟡ ♡

Continue with my spring anthology prompts here.

[marlynnofmany]

Reaching

Being the tall person at the grocery store is nothing compared to being the tall species on an alien planet. Everybody here was hip-height at best, and my ability to grab things that would normally require a stepstool was very appreciated. I wasn’t the only Big Alien come to visit, since the courier ship was about evenly split size-wise, but I was definitely enjoying it.

Especially since the cargo we were meant to pick up was stored (for some reason) on high shelves.

“That’s everything from this one,” I said to Mur as I grabbed a final dusty crate from head level, bending down to place it on the hoversled. “What’s next?” I straightened up and stretched my back, ready for more.

Mur consulted a list on the communicator he held with one tentacle. “That was the ‘blue alcove.’ Which one’s the ‘round alcove’?”

I rotated in place, looking for round things in the alien barn full of mismatched architecture and empty stalls. The owner had decided to retire and sell their old junk, which meant getting us to deliver it to somebody else’s farm. They were paying extra for us to load it onto the ship ourselves. This farmer was either elderly and infirm, or out of bothers to give. Not that it mattered much either way.

“I see it!” Paint said, pointing a scaly hand upward.

I followed her finger to see a curved opening halfway up the wall. “That’s more of an oval, but everything else is square, so I guess that’s it,” I agreed.

Paint tugged the hoversled over, while Mur sat on top of the boxes with his list. Then they both waited for me, because they certainly couldn’t reach any of it.

“We’re meant to take everything up here, right?” I asked, leaning in to grab a bundle of what looked like hammers strapped together. They were heavy, but not to the point where I was at risk of dropping them on anybody.

“Looks like yes,” Mur said. “Can you get all of it?”

“Mayyybe not,” I admitted. “This alcove is pretty deep.”

“Oh, there’s a ladder!” Paint said, darting away. I was busy straining to reach a roll of wire, so I didn’t see what caused the loud snap. But I did hear her make a disappointed sound.

Mur laughed. “There was a ladder. See any others over there?”

I pulled the wire down and set it on the cart, only then getting a view of Paint guiltily dropping the decrepit piece of wood that had recently been half a ladder. There were two or three pegs sticking out of it, though the rest had stayed with the other half, which appeared to be bolted to the wall.

I winced. “Are we going to have to pay damages for that?”

“Eh, maybe,” Mur said. “Pretty sure the old farmer mentioned a number of things that were destined for the fuel pile anyway. We can let Captain Sunlight ask.”

Paint called over, “I don’t see any others.”

A look back at the near wall showed bolts that might have held a different ladder in place once. “New question,” I said. “What do you see that looks strong enough for me to step on? Because I can just climb up there with a little boost.”

Mur grumbled something about species that were always looking for things to climb. Since this was entirely accurate, I ignored him. Then he said, “Well, I’d suggest stepping on the sled, but it’s full of goods, and the brakes aren’t what they should be.”

“Yeah, no use risking that,” I agreed. “And I don’t need much. I could probably get up there with a running start, but I’d rather not bruise anything today.”

Paint trotted back over. “What about those?” she suggested, pointing out a stack of metal tubs that were probably meant for animal food.

We took a look. Some were rusty and unreliable, and they were all heavy — we had to tip the stack on its side to sort through them. But we found one at the bottom that felt sturdy enough. I probably wouldn’t fall right through it. Probably.

It sure was heavy, though. I dragged it over, leaving a trail through the dirt and alien straw, hoping I wasn’t about to ruin another thing that we’d have to pay for.

I’d just gotten it into position when a new voice asked, “What is taking so long?”

Trrili stood in the doorway, a looming black-and-red menace with mandibles and pincher arms. She looked impatient. She also looked like a giant praying mantis, but she always looked like that.

While Paint explained that the items were hard to reach and the ladder was pursuing an exciting new career as kindling, Trrili stalked over on her many legs. Ignoring me completely, she reared back and easily reached into the back of the alcove. “All of these?” she asked.

“Ah, yup,” I said, stepping to the side.

She pulled back to land with her pincher arms holding a large curved thing that had loops dangling from the sides. “What even is this?” she asked as she dumped it onto the sled.

“Looks like a saddle,” I told her.

She was already back up there, rummaging around with only her hind feet on the ground. “What for?”

I said, “Riding animals, I imagine,” then went to stand uselessly with Paint. We watched as our larger coworker loaded up the rest of the items.

“Why would anyone want to ride an animal?” Trrili asked, placing a segment of pipe between the boxes.

“Not everyone has hovertech,” I said. “And it’s nice when your transportation can watch out for hazards. And appreciate neck scritches.”

Trrili declared the whole idea absurd and unnecessary, fit only for species that got too familiar with their prey. None of this was a surprise to me. I’d heard her opinions on pets before.

But Paint was curious about what it was like to be carried around by a large living thing. Was it frightening? What if the animal went the wrong way? What was the importance of “neck scritches?”

I set about explaining horses to her. I might not be able to reach as far as Trrili, but this was definitely something I could do.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

[willowser]

i am so terribly in the mood to write angst 🥺 like. like maybe. ex-husband bakugou 🥺

not so fresh out of your divorce, but — having a little boy — life with him is so intricately tangled. far too deeply rooted to ever be out of each other's hair. more often than not, he brings your son to his parent's house if he's called in to work, but — sometimes it's after midnight and he doesn't want to have another argument with his mom about how he's working too much. be reminded that this is how he lost you in the first place. mitsuki's disappointment has always stung because she reacts so typically in fury, and this distaste is always whispered and low, serious enough that her reprimands sink to the pit of his stomach.

and sometimes — he just wants to check on you. your house. if there's anything he can bring you or that you need or that he can fix, if you want. sometimes he just wants to hear your voice, and watch the way your lips sound out his name.

"aw," you pout playfully in the doorway despite the puffiness to your eyes, at having been woken up. "my sleepy baby."

your son is knocked out on his dad's shoulder, drooling through the material of his shirt, and you step up to take him but — katsuki doesn't let go. not yet. it leaves you still within close range, rubbing a small hand over the kid's back. there's a residual heat lingering around your body from the blankets you've no doubt been swaddled in, and he imagines you bundled up with his little boy. how close and sweet the two of you will be, after he's gone.

"is that—" you gasp, making a face that has his lips twitching with the urge to smile; instead his frown deepens. "is that a thumb in his mouth?"

a sting starts deep within the sockets of his eyes, and he rolls them, feigning nonchalnce. "he's already pissed 'cause he's congested, so whatever."

it earns him a pleased hum; victorious, in letting the kid indulge his shitty habits. "picking your battles, i see."

and the two of you are left in the shadow of something, cold, despite the stove light deep in the background of your place. finally, your son is passed off, and you cradle him even though he's getting too big to be held like that, but katsuki doesn't say anything. there's a part of him that wants this image to stick for a little while longer. there's a part of him that wants this to hurt.

"do you think you'll be back before the morning?"

"uh," he swallows, knuckling at one of his eyes. "don't know. this shit with half 'n half is—" probably gonna keep him up until the early afternoon, but you'll only worry if he tells you, and you've done that enough.

"okay," you shrug, swaying slowly back and forth as you nestle your cheek in your son's wild blonde hair. "that's fine. i can drop him off with your dad on the way to work, yeah?" all you get is a grunt of affirmation; doesn't seem like he'll avoid the argument with the old hag afterall. "hey, while i have you, i was gonna say—do you wanna come in, or something?"

fuck, if he doesn't want to. how easily he could sink into your couch and your voice, relaxed for the first time in — he doesn't know how long. he is officially A Dad, ready to fall asleep the minute he sits with his head back for even a minute. you'll offer him tea that he won't take, because it'll keep you in the kitchen too long, out of sight.

the soft, safe image of his little family under one roof again makes his stomach churn, and he has to rip himself out of the daydream lest he fall prey to it; he's here for a reason, afterall.

"i gotta—"

"oh, duh," you swing your sleeping little boy gently for emphasis, smile dim in the doorway. "i just wanted to say, if you're gonna be busy, i can plan the birthday party with your mom," a long kiss is pressed to your son's forehead and, minute as it is, katsuki doesn't miss the slight slump of your shoulders. "no big deal."

"no," he says it quick and fails to keep his voice even; when you look up at him, eyebrows raised, katsuki has to take a step back and breathe through his nose. "no, i—you don't hafta' —i just need to send you my schedule, and then we can...figure it out."

"you already have," voice soft, you press the words again into your son. despite them you smile gently, tender. raw. "and i don't remember tonight being on the roster."

so easily could you be hostile. hateful and angry and justified and it would be preferable to this bended knee you've taken; accepting of the life dynamight will always have, even if you're not able to stomach it. if only you could scream and smack him and chastise, then maybe it would be easier to leave.

but instead you just flicker, a light in the dark he'll never reach.

"sorry," is all he can say, teeth grit. the word depresses into his tongue and the weight of it makes him want to gag; he means it now — and every other moment he's failed you in.

you don't press the issue, because you're too kind. "our little baby," another pout works it's way to your lips and katsuki's chest collapses, heart thundering in the cavity he's had to make a home in. alone. "the big 5-0."

he snorts to clear the frog in his throat. "he's gonna be 5, not 50."

"oh," you blink at him owlishly, and then burst into a small fit of laughter that he can't help but to ease at. to yearn for. "i'm half-asleep, you can't hold that against me."

there's a reason he's here; now he's keeping you up and his time has run out, like it always has and always will. the silence that settles between you eats away at him until he is hollow enough to slip away.

you linger in the doorway, watching dutifully as he opens his car door and — katsuki takes one last look at you, another image he wants to last. another image he wants to hurt. sometime in the next 24 hours, when he manages to leave dynamight behind and crawl into his empty bed sheets, this is all he'll think about while chasing after a sleep that isn't so friendly when he's by himself.

hopefully in his dreams, at least, you'll be welcoming him home, instead of bidding him a quiet goodbye yet again.

[skzpixiekaifei]

Taglist: @mynameisnotlaura, @palindrome969

Scene 1: Maniac world tour 2022 V live with her brother 

Kai is sitting on a couch in an unfamiliar setting, pictures of her family barely seen with her old as hell phone.  Kai: Hello!  She giggled, waving her hand around excitedly as a greeting. She looks down at the tablet with the live pulled up, watching comments.   Kai: I’m in my childhood home, that's why it’s so weird looking.  Someone off screen: It isn’t weird looking!! You’re weird looking!  Kai glared at the person off screen  Kai: This is why I’m the favorite child, Bo. I don’t interrupt you when you're working!  Bo: Because I refuse to let you near it, roach  Kai: I hope you die in the worst possible way, Fei Bo  Bo: If it means getting away from your ugly face, I'll gladly take that chance  She takes off her slipper and chucks it at Bo off screen. You could tell by the way he immediately yelled after.  Kai: MOM!! He hit me!!  An older woman off screen: Bo, don’t hit your sister!  Bo: I didn’t DO anything!! She hit ME!!  Kai giggles at the chaos unfolding in the kitchen, her mom scolding her older brother who was glaring at Kai. 

Scene 2: Instagram livestream titled “Changbin simp club” 

Kai is laying in her bed, watching the stream go by, bundled in blankets  Kai: Oh my god! This reminds me of the bubble conversation I saw—Yes, I use bubble, but I’m forbidden to post on there. Something about “Maintaining idol image”, which is BS but anyway.  She sits up, brushing the hair out of her face  Kai: OKAY! So, I keep seeing posts about Changbin going around, and my lizard brain is going crazy at some of the pictures. BIN!! Get in here!!  The door opened, letting in a beam of soft light against her purple lights. Changbin unceremoniously plops himself on her lap, facing her stomach. Kai runs her hands through his curly hair.  Kai: So, you guys know I have a thing for muscles, right. I mean, look at this man  She picks up his arm, squishing the muscle before biting his Bicep.  Changbin: Hey!  He whined, before blowing air onto her stomach, causing her to laugh hard.  Kai: Okay, you can go now  She pressed a kiss to the area she bit, and he walked out, closing the door  Kai: Now, his boobs- 

Scene 3: Kai and her affinity for man boobs 

Kai: Hanji!!  She runs up to him in his diesel shirt w/ the boob window. They were filming a skz talker, and she didn’t realize before it was too late  Han: What- HUH??!  She cups his chest and sticks her head inside it, effectively motorboating him. She walks away, satisfied and Han just stood there in shock 

It was during SKZ talker 48, when she was getting her makeup done, Seungmin walked over and sat on her lap, shocking the artist. She rolled her eyes and groped his chest, getting a squeak from the man. Said man ran away after calling her a pervert. 

During the live show (The one where Hyunjin and Lee Know did the troublemaker challenge), Kai is told to do a dance challenge with Changbin and Chan.  Kai, in English: I'm with the big titty gang  Chan: huH?!?   Chan chases after her and slings her across his shoulder. 

An episode of Chan’s room, Chan was talking about how clingy Kai was  Chan: Oh yeah! (He laughs, all shy now) She is big on the chest area, for some reason? I don’t get it, but-  He gets cut off with Kai running into the room and jumping on Chan in his chair. He does a little scream, Kai shoving her face into his chest while whining  Kai: Don’t give away my secrets, boob man!  She falls off the chair hard and ran out of the room, cackling as he looked after her, perplexed 

Scene 4: Young Pixie being a menace without realizing it 

Kai: Minho hyung!!  Kai is in the haunted house with the other members. She is partnered with Lee Know and Han  Lee Know: Kai-ah! It’s improper to call your elders hyung when you are a girl  Kai stares blankly at Lee know.  Kai: Would you rather me call you motherfuc- 

During the English debate, she is put on the team with less English speakers to make it more even.  Kai: (Mocking the Australians when they laugh at their team) PrAwN oN tHe BaRbIe  Felix, right back at her: Oh my god, Stephanie, do you want to go out to the mall today? (Imitating a valley girl accent)  Kai: That’s not even the right accent! Do you want to meet your ancestors? (She holds up a fist, getting hysteric laughs from her members) 

Kai is watching her members greet the audience, and when it was time for her to introduce herself, she froze, forgetting her line completely(She just had to introduce herself)  Kai: Hello, my name is Bang Chan and you’re watching Disney channel (Proceeds to do the Disney Channel logo) 

Kai starting the trend of her members mocking JYP. Their first performance, she is seen in the background imitating JYP’s singing of their debut. 

[jomiddlemarch]

Let’s stop all the clocks

“Erin? Erin Quinn?” 

Erin looked up from the book in her lap. It should have been one for one of her classes, but she’d decided to give herself a break and read the absolute trash Michelle had been going on about in the long phone calls that cut into Erin’s coffee budget. It was a quick read, she’d give it that, but she didn’t actually want anyone who knew her full name to have any idea she’d wasted even a second of her time on it and she tried to tuck it under a fold of the saggy, oversized cardigan she’d put on without thinking twice as she ran out the door. She’d been late, as per usual Mammy would say, and she’d consoled herself with the anonymity of train travel in a major metropolitan center. It wasn’t Derry. She’d not meet anyone who recognized her from Adam, as one of her lecturers had said, an idiom she’d not heard before but suspected Sister Michael would have adored.

She tried to place the man, who spoke with the same faded accent she had herself, though a little more posh. He looked like a generic example of thirty-year-old man, nondescript brown hair with no sign of a receding hairline, a bit of scruff around the jaw, broad shoulders, the usual American uniform of jeans and some themed sweatshirt, a bit ratty around the cuffs, not sharp in the least. She had no idea who he was, but anyone would admit he was entirely forgettable.

She, evidently, was not, as he knew her well enough to identify her with her head down, her hair bundled back with an elastic, wearing the glasses that had rapidly become more than an aesthetic choice for someone scaling the heights of academe. She’d said that once to Mammy, just so her mother would reply Catch yerself on in her most exasperated manner. 

“That’s me,” she said, trying to sound impersonally polite and not guarded.

“You don’t remember me. Not at all,” he said. Grinned. His eyes were blue and he was more handsome than she’d thought. It was the smile and the complete lack of being insulted that she hadn’t a clue who he was that made him appealing. And the blue eyes. His hands were nice too. 

“M’sorry, no,” she said.

“Dee. From Peace Across the Barricades,” he said. “Dee Foster.”

All Erin could remember was Clare screaming her head off, convinced the deaf boy was going to murder her in front of them all. And James clumping about in those pink waterproof trousers, calling himself a lad when he was the least laddish boy who’d ever lived.

“You gave me an Ulster Bank key-chain and some Rolo as a gift?” he said. “I think there was also a pencil.”

It came back to her in a flash. Maybe like the one people said you had before you died.

“Oh my God, Dee! Dee Foster!” She repeated his surname, as if she’d ever known it, as if she’d remembered him quite well in a fond, old-timey fashion, and not as the boy she’d made the most gauche pass at, trying to stick out her unremarkable boobs and cock her head to one side while he’d gawked at her in astonishment.

“You’re looking well, Erin,” he said, still smiling.

“Did you even like Rolo?” Erin heard herself ask, the most absolutely stupid question she could have come up with. Michelle’s eyes would have rolled right out of her head at it, if she could manage to keep them open. A set of twins ten months after her wedding had nearly done her in, even when the boys started taking a nap outside of the enormous double-pram that had become her latest and worst enemy.

“They’re all right, yeah? I prefer a Mars bar, if I have the choice,” he said. 

“Rolo are nice though,” Erin said. “If you like a caramel center, there’s none better.”

She suddenly heard how she was related to Colm. Any minute now, Dee would make an excuse to flee and she would not be able to blame him.

“Yeah. It’s a funny thing, seeing you here,” he remarked. He leaned back more in the plastic seat. It seemed fleeing was not the the top of his list.

“They say it’s a small world,” she replied. “Doesn’t seem that way on the subway, all crammed together, all sorts—”

“No, not like home and that was a small place,” he said.

“Small in some ways, miles apart in others,” she said. There was a long pause, a sort of companionable one where she was able to recall she had indeed put on some blush and a bit of mascara before she’d left the flat. Apartment, they called it here, though her American friends were always terribly charmed when she spoke as she would have at home. They found it quaint, she knew that, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t the most likable person, so she had to play the cards she had been dealt. Being the winsome and quirky Irish lass had gotten her this far…

“I regretted it, after,” he said.

“You regretted Peace Across the Barricades?” Erin said. “It fell far short of what he wanted, Father Peter, but it was well-meant even if he was rather full of himself—”

“I regretted turning you down, when you wanted to make out. When you asked and told me you hadn’t any moves,” he said. “You were wearing plaid pajamas and a choker necklace.”

She blushed as she hadn’t for a solid decade. 

“I shouldn’t have, it’s so embarrassing—”

“I said I regretted it, saying no. Even if you didn’t really know me,” he said. “You were so shy and also, what brass, to make such a proposition.”

“Michelle said you were a ride,” Erin offered.

“Christ, it takes me home to hear that,” he laughed. “Flattered, too, mind you.”

“I should’ve tried to get to know you. Not treated you like a, like a piece of meat. I’m sorry for that,” she said.

“I’m not,” he said.

“No?”

This was the oddest conversation she could recall and she spoke to Orla nearly every week.

“If you’d been more polite then, more considerate, there’d been nothing to talk about now. I wouldn’t have blurted out your name in a train station waiting room because I wanted to talk to you again. To see that smile of yours,” he said. “Make you blush.”

“You’re quite the charmer,” Erin replied. She blushed harder, if that was even a thing.

“You’ve been too long among the Americans, Erin,” he replied. “This is just Londonderry—”

“Derry,” she interrupted.

“Just so,” he said. “I wished I’d gone over to you, when our parents were all there, arguing. I wished I’d gone over and said something, anything, you wanted to answer. Given you the last Rolo, maybe. Taken the chalk from your hand and written something else on that board. Something you’d have remembered me by.”

“You wished it, eh? Past tense?” she said. She could never leave well enough alone and not everyone cared for her endless monologues about the niceties of the English language. She’d have taken the words back if she could.

“Present tense as well,” Dee said. “Where are you off to?”

“Back up to Boston,” she said. She felt the urge to explain what she did there, her studies and such, and clamped her mouth shut. He hadn’t asked and there was a runaway train taken over her tongue, God knows what she’d come out with if she allowed herself the leeway.

“Isn’t that lucky? I’m headed up there myself,” he said. 

“Luckier they don’t assign seats on this train,” she said. Fuck it, this was a chance she had to take. “If you wanted to maybe make that old wish come true—”

She broke off because he’d suddenly stood up. He was tall, had probably grown more after she’d last seen him, and she had to crane her neck to see his face.

“Or not. You probably have other things to do, work or something,” she said, trying to claw back any shred of self-respect. Her pride was long, long gone.

“I was only going to get some snacks for the trip,” he said, gesturing with his head towards the nearest shop with its racks of sweets and bottles of water, juice, all the brightly colored health drinks full of chemicals she could never stomach, though they were said to be good for a hangover.

“Oh, all right then,” she said.

He came back with a plastic bag filled with terrible American chocolate and more satisfying packets of crisps, Cokes, those weird cheese-filled pretzels she couldn’t ever get enough of even though they were inarguably rather disgusting.

“I got some Rolo for old time’s sake,” Dee said, then fished out a little plastic square and held it out to her. It said I love NY but the love was a red heart. “And a keychain. This is my move, Erin Quinn. I hope it’s good enough.”

After they’d moved back to Belfast, she kept her housekeys on it, the letters obscured by the scratches on the plastic, the red heart clear. They gave Rolo as a wedding favor, to the bafflement of their parents, and the knowing looks of Michelle, Clare and James. Orla had only nodded sagely and Dee knew well enough by then not to inquire what she was thinking.

@asteraceae-blue I decided to post this one first because it's a sunny Saturday morning here and that felt like rom-com energy, not angst

[polycrowtruther]

As Kaz stumbled down the Market, chest weeping sticky blood, he felt himself smile. Sharp, dangerous, but with a newfound glee bubbling within him. He popped the safe end of the smudged incense between his lips as he reached out for the stall closest to him. He swiped a leaf of wax paper, folding Oiwa’s old silks and wrapping them in the paper as he kept walking forward. At the next stall he casually unspooled a length of twine, angling it against the sharp edge of the counter so it would snap and tail behind him obediently. He wrapped the bundle efficiently as he walked, until he had reached his newfound destination. 

“Dolinde,” He called out, removing the spent incense stick and tucking it under the straps of the tied package with a flourish, “I need you to make a delivery.”

“I’m working, bossman,” Dolinde, a freshly fourteen-year-old Zemni girl, retorted. She ran a bustling stall selling shortbread at the end of the West Stave. She was a talented baker, specializing in sweet pastries and bread that melted in your mouth. Flakey, warm and fresh. Matthias was obsessed with all of her baked goods, and made Kaz stop frequently whenever work took them close to the West Stave. As such, Dolinde became an honorary Dreg of sorts. She was a shrewd business woman who always bargained hard and networked harder. She spoke eight languages roughly, and five of them fluently. 

“Make time for me, and I’ll make it worth your wild,” Kaz shrugged. 

“Oh please. With what, your little pocket drüskelle? Newsflash, his labor is free now, he comes to help me make deliveries of his own volition,” Dolinde said haughtily, “You have nothing to offer me. I don’t want your money, and I don’t need your labor.”

“Not even if the delivery is at the bequest of the Ghost King?” Kaz raised an eyebrow, already knowing he had won. More than anything, Dolinde loved rumors. He had wrangled many a favor out of her in exchange for ghost stories and torrid gossip. With this newfound talk of a Ghost King, she must have been frothing at the mouth for more details. Details that he was sure he could provide, if she were willing to cooperate. 

Dolinde scowled, eyes narrowing, “Talk of the King of Ghosts only surfaced this morning, and you already claim to be working for him?”

“Working with him,” Kaz corrected, “I don’t work for anybody. So, are you interested or not?”

“What’s the delivery?” She asked skeptically, but Kaz could see she was practically vibrating with excitement already. 

“This goes directly to Tante Heleen herself,” Kaz said, handing over the bundled package, “Compliments of the Ghost King and his malevolent shadow Tamiya Oiwa.” 

Dolinde’s eyes bulged in shock, “So the Ghost King really did tame the Shadow of Yotsuya?”

“She tamed him, so I heard,” Kaz smiled knowingly. “Will you deliver it or not?”

Dolinde studied the package for a moment, eyes picking up every detail available, “Yeah, sure, I’ll deliver it. Payment’s the usual?”

“There’ll be a stool waiting for you at the Six, and if you bring something baked I’m sure Jesper will add a glass or two of Amasi to your payment as well,” Kaz nodded, “I’ll give you just about every detail I know. But give me at least a day before you hound me for details. I have business to attend to first.”

“The deal is the deal,” Dolinde said with a mock salute, tucking the package under the counter of her stall. By the end of the day it’ll be back at the Menagerie, hopefully driving Tante Heleen positively nuts. Kaz delighted at the thought of it.

(Sequal to The Shadow of Yotsuya coming soon on Ao3!

In the meantime, read The Shadow of Yotsuya here - https://archiveofourown.org/works/48130705)

[sketchfanda]

A Little Moxxie Love:Now THAT’S Comedy!!

Somedays was just another day in hell, especially in Imp City. Violence on the streets, the odd riot here or there as its denizens of imps, hellhounds, sinners and all the manner of hellborn walked to and fro going about their business. For Moxxie, his business would've been enjoying a rare bit of peace and quiet at the I.M.P office, basking in the downtime before and inbetween jobs or gigs.

But noooo, could't have that now could? Maybe even just some quality time with his lovely wife, Christ on a stick, he'd take some personal time with Loona or one of his, what was the word he was looking for? Oh right, Booty Calls. But insead of any of that, here he was in the living world, sneaking his way around a local park somewhere in Burbank, California looking for a tree house.

No not like some little cabin club house for some neighbourhood tykes, as like an actual, literal treehouse!! A very infamous one at that for you see this treehouse belonged to quite the celebrity. One our favourite little Imp Hitman had the distinct pleasure of being designated to deliver the client's revenge by proxy. As the sharply dressed, put own upon killer for hire mumbled to himself like a certain dastardly mutt, hauling a package securely in his arms, he couldn't help but reflect on how he wound up here. Thinking back to how it all started with that goddamn wolf....

~Imp City, The Pride Ring in Hell as overseen by King Lucifer Morningstar. To be precise, The Office of I.M.P (Immediate Murder Professionals, duh!!),a few moments ago~

??:"And that's why I want that damn-blasted squirrel dead!! DEAD!! YA' HEAR ME!! D,E,A,D DEAD as a doornail!! As dead as she made me!!"* Moxxie along with his ever lovely wife Millie and Blitzo's surly teen hellhound secretary and dispatcher Loona simply sat at their usual meeting room table, varying degrees of deadpan expressions on their faces as their latest potential client seemed to finally finishing his rambling tangent of ranting and raving, nonplussed as he seemed be coughing up a storm. The sinner before them was particular as he looked similar to but sure as fuck wasn't a hellhound like Loona. No this wolf was a sinner of the recently deceased variety and depending how well you knew your toon celebrities, he was a famous one.*

Loona:*shares a glance to her imp co-workers,slash friends with benefits (Don't tell Blitzo,none of his business what a grown hellhound does with her sex and love life.) before she rolls her eyes as she types at her phone.)"Right so yeah no shit Sherlock,we get that. You want this lady offed, kind of what we do here Pops..."

??:”That’s Walter Wolf to you, you punk ass whatever! Kids these days not even a mister, no it’s just pops, you’re about as worse than that squirrel!!”*The hellhound effortlessly ducked the old sinner’s cane as he once again went on another rambling tangent. Loona and the imp couple rolling their eyes as they waited for Yiddish accented codger to refocus. Yes sir, the one and only Walter Wolf, archenemy regular punch bag of Slappy Squirrel. Still holding a grudge and no doubt having wound up here because he finally bit the big one and it really came to bite him in his senile furry behind.*

Moxxie:*deciding it was time at least to try and get this conversation back on track. Particularly before the old lupine sinner caused himself to die...again. Was it possible to die twice in Hell for a sinner?* "Sir yes we get it. As Loona told you, we make it our business to go to the living world and get the likes of you their payback. So details would be nice, especially if there's any specific way you want her to die?"

Walter:*paused mid rant as he adjusted his glasses, squinting at Moxxie.* "Alright you little red skinned horned opossum, that's how you want it, you got it. I want you to take this little bundle right here and plant it somewhere in that uppity Slappy's tree in Burbank. Put it somewhere she's never gonna find it and KABOOM!! Ol' Walter Wolf finally wins one!! In your face ya uppity squirrel bitch!!"

Millie and Loona could only narrow their eyes with deadpan intent at the coughing, wheezing old wolf sinner, given the state of him implied exactly how he'd died in the first place. But hey leave it to old Walter Wolf to never learn a lesson, right? As Moxxie nervously eyed the package he now held in his hand, hearing the ticking of a clock as beneath its simple light brown wrapping paper was a bomb. Realising with little to no doubt he was going to have to go to the living world and actually try to kill Slappy Squirrel of all people!!

Moxxie:"....Oh crumbs...."*Now really given the circumstances and the magnitude of the situation he was about to find himself in? Who could blame him for being only able to respond like that? if Blitzo were here, there was no doubt he'd tell moxxie man up, stop being a little bitch and go kill the old squirrel!! It was their job!!*

~And now back to our regular feature present~

That moment of reflection made Moxxie grit his teeth and spit, if not outright hiss as he reminded himself if and when he saw that old wolf again? He'd slap the absolute shit out of him, like it wasn't bad enough he was going to try kill Slappy Squirrel? One of the few fondest moments in his otherwise abysmal childhood had been watching old Slappy cartoons from the living world with his gone far too soon saint of a mom. But of course sweet precious Millie took a moment to convince him to take up this job alone as 1. Blitzo was too busy with his usual shenanigans and 2. She felt going solo would do his confidence a world of good.

So of course he continued on, mustering up the fortitude to carry out his mission. Besides which he knew he had to make it fast enough since that stupid fucking wolf didn't tell him how long he had exactly left on the timer for this bomb!! Any further hesitation or delays and KABOOM!! but finally the sweet relief as he found himself at what had to be the tree that the squirrel called home.

It was fortunate especially for our fave little imp boi that it was dark out, made for a little stealth. Millie was onto something, doing this solo was doing wonders for his self esteem especially when he didn't have to be overly elaborate like at that summer camp trying to be in charge. Unlike that mission this would be direct and to the point, get in and plant the bomb then hightail out of there like bat out well, hell. Determined more than ever, the imp managed to pry open a window soon as he got close to the house, entering the living room so far so good, still unseen and unheard.

Now all he needed was a good place to plant the explosive package and he could haul his crimson behind out of here. But he had to be still smart enough about this, Slappy was a crafty one in her cartoons and there was no doubt age only increased that. Spying around the room as he stopped his sights upon a large pile in the corner. Bags and mountains of fan-mail and packages, no doubt too much for the squirrel to bother reading and sorting thorugh, it was perfect!!

Pleased with himself as he hummed a merry tune quietly, the red possum got to work as he dove his hands into the pile, burying the packaged TNT deep within fan-mail pile. A silent sigh of relief at a job about to be very well done, that ought to get Walter to shut up. Before he could start on making his exit, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket, fishing it out to see a text notification from Loona. It had to be legitimately serious for her to message him during a job, she'd been getting somewhat better with the dispatch details and she sure as hell wasn't sending him a sexy pic now of all times as he opened and read it.

Loona:"The stupid old fart just mentioned he set the bomb for 3 hours when he handed it to ya. If you're good to go then haul ass!!"

Moxxie checked his watch and saw the time, doing the mental math between when Walter handed him the package and the time he left for the living world and tried to find Slappy's house. He had about 2 hours, just enough time to make his escape and hopefully plenty of time before Slappy woke up or got home, assuming she was out late. Just as he was about to put his phone away, he froze like a deer in the headlights as he heard the flip and click of a switch, the living room lights snapped on. Turning to the source of the sound and knew all too well at once, he was screwed as he turned and saw Slappy Squirrel herself standing over him......in nothing but a towel as she grabbed him by the shoulders and pinned him against the wall, damn she was a strong old broad.

Moxxie:"Ooh crumbs...."*Now of course Moxxie wasn't just saying that due to being caught in the act but also well, just look at her!! Slappy had more than aged well, hell she was a figurative silver fox!! She had more curves than a freeway and a set of tits and ass that would make Minerva Mink green with envy. Her deadpan blue eyes twinkling no doubt with twinkling with thoughts of how much she was going to make him suffer.*

Slappy:*eyeing the imp as she began to speak up in that grizzled ol' new yorker like accent of hers.* "Ya know, I'll give ya points on the breaking and entering there slick, ain't often I had stalkers sneak into my place and almost not get caught. Would've maybe gotten away with it if I hadn't seen you outside my bedroom window right when I was I was finished hitting the showers. Real ballsy I'll give ya that...."*Moxxie gulped nervously as he awaited whatever toon type mayhem was about to befall him. Slappy was a mistress in the art of comedy-fu after all. It didn't help he was feeling rather turned on seeing her up close like this.*

Moxxie:"Now Ms.Squirrel, or uhm..sorry you've never married, have you? Not to be rude but I explain..."*The Imp paused as he noticed Slappy's eyes narrowed into a seductive gaze. A grin to match forming that sexy furry face of hers, causing him to see she was looking down at his crotch. Oh just terrific, Slappy Squirrel now no doubt thought he was some creepy looney pervert stalker. There was no doubt going to be a mallet in his future for sure when she suddenly spoke up, getting his attention.*

Slappy:"Well now far as sneaky fans go, you're definitely a looker...and really packing it. So I'll give you a pass, hot stuff if you do Lil' Ol' me a favour. It's been way too damn long since I got any and looks to me like you know how to help a lady scratch her itch."*Moxxie had a feeling he knew exactly what Slappy was going on about but there was no way this was happening, right?" Blinking as Slappy unpinned him and let him down, cluthching her towel as she walked with the sort of sway to her backside. Her hips giving off a hypnotic vibe that practically yelled for his attention before the silver fox or rather squirrel turned around. Looing at him with sensual mischief as she made a little come over gesture, finger wagging as she made it clear she wanted him to follow. The imp naturally obliging her of course as they made their way upstairs.*

Moxxie of course was interally freaking out and who could blame him? Okay on the one hand Slappy Squirrel wanted to get laid with him BUT on the other hand he had less than 2 hours and counting before the bomb went off!! If he wanted to get out still alive and breathing then this would take all his prowess and experience he could muster. Bring the A game as they would say because someone of Slappy's age and all clearly got around and anything less would not bode well for our Imp boi.

So there Moxxie now sat on the mattress of Slappy's bed, shirtless and his pants remaining on for now as the fine wine aged squirrel stood before him. That mischievous erotic minx grin on her face as she proceeded to flash him, dropping her towel as she stood before him in all her naked glory. Oh yeah this silver fox of a squirrel hadn't merely aged gracefully, if anything she'd gotten better with age. As she walked up to him, leaning in a way that made those luscious furry boobs of hers jiggle as she took his hands and made him touch them.

Moxxie:"Ooh crumbs..."*Now really could you blame the little guy? Less than 2 hours passing by every second yet here he was with a naked Slappy Squirrel. Her body language just screaming she was down to fuck, her odor a scent of acorns and the indication of her recent aforementioned shower. There was no doubt this toon hit her peak at puberty and never left since and only gotten truly better with age. Unable to look away as she struck a few seductive pin-up poses, showing off and displaying her stunning assets.*

Slappy:"What do you think Little Man? All natural unlike some bimbos I can think to name? No need for all that gentle love making crud, go on ad give them a nice squeeze."*The sensual cougar of a squirrel playfully goaded, shuddering as she sensually bit her lip in response to Moxxie obliging her.* "Mmm damn good hands there...guessing I ain't the first set of tits you played with...then again, what gal wouldn't want that, right?"*She teased coyly as she reached down to caress his crotch, the material of his pants stiff and swollen with his length and girth. Licking her lips as she decided to get a more direct look at the goods she was going to be playing with. Unzipping his fly and pulling down the waistband, boxers and all when her prize sprung out like a jack in the box.*"........Jesus, Mary and goddamn Joseph, where you been all my life, Little Man?"

Moxxie:*blushed as he smiled cutely and modestly, unable to help himself from massaging and playing with Slappy's furry boobs.* "Uhm something like the south...the very deep south."*It wasn't quite a lie, after all Hell was a deep south as you could get. Before he shuddered as Slappy grasped and began to stroke his cock, firmly and steady as she pressed her lips to his. Feeling her tongue shove its way with a thirst on par with honeymoon night with Millie.*

Slappy:*broke the sloppy kiss for air, stray strands of saliva connecting as she panted with desire, hugging Moxxie's face as she pressed it deep against the valley of her grey furred titties. Still beating his meat as she felt Moxxie purr against how warm she felt, her blue eyes gazing at him with a skyrocketing lust.*"Well Little Man from deep down south, I want you to take this damn cock and fuck me into a sexual coma. Fuck me 'til it feels like your dick falls off or I literally die of orgasm. Can you do that for me, Little Man? You want to fuck me so bad I might look like I'd be carrying your kids?"* The sly erotic squirrel grinned with delight as Moxxie gave her his answer in the best possible way. Squeezing and suckling on her boobs, showing he wasn't just experienced with women but not stranger to handling a furry woman either.*

Naturally Slappy was only more than fine to let out deepthroated gasps and moans as she began making out with the imp with a thirst and passion that put horny, hormone addled teenagers to shame. Their lips and tongues dancing together with sloppy desire as they fell on the bed together rolling a tangle of limbs. Silvery grey fur pressed and rubbing against crimson red skin before Slappy found found herself laying atop the imp in a 69 position. Planting her furred booty his face as her bushy tail wagged sensually in satisfaction as grasped and stroked his cock once more.

The silver fox of a squirrel breathed in deep the raw masculine scent radiating off of that dick as she began to plant kisses and licks upon it, spine tingling from the tip of her tail right along her nerves to her brain. Her arousal skyrocketing as she felt Moxxie’s hands grabbing her ass with firm squeezes as she found him eating her out, a very skilled and long tongue probing aw at her slit. This served to further fuel Slappy’s desire as she proceeded to return the favour, taking the length and girth of the imp’s dick and displayed her wealth of sexual experience with stunning fellatio. Deepthroating him in ways that would put even the most skilled porn star to shame before she levelled up the pleasure by sandwiching his shaft between her tits.

Slappy:*grinning sensually as she shot a look over her shoulder at the imp, as she rode on his face. Squeezing his head between her thighs as she stroked and jerked him off with a furry titfuck on his drool soaked dick.* “Mmhm, you’re not making too bad a first impression little man, I’ve made horses and bulls blow their load just from a handjob. Now I’m really looking forward to the min event. Remember, don’t do gentle, I want to fucking rut…” *She further emphasised her point as she locked her mouth back onto that dick. Licking and sucking what wasn’t covered by her big furry melons.*

Moxxie was well aware how intense and rough Slappy wanted it, unknown to most but a few select fans was that Slappy had a very active sex life. Some rumours went about that she’d done some porn here and there, even still today she held a high rank as the most searched GMILF/GILF around. Plus the fact he still had a bomb to worry about only reminded him this wasn’t just sex for surviving the wrath of Slappy, it was to fuck for his life!! As he smacked Slappy’s ass like a bingo drum, making the cougar of a squirrel moan as he continued to display his own oral skills, getting her nice and wet.

As soon as the moment to proceed past foreplay presented itself of course, our fave possum wasted no time in seizing the moment to rock Slappy’s world. And oooh was she finding it rocked Damn good as Slappy rode him cowgirl style, moaning deeply and lewdly with little to no shame. Her furry tits bouncing hypnotically as the Imp’s hands were squeezing her furry booths and sensually rubbing her swaying tail. That absolute unit of a dick of his hammering away as the squirrel saw a rising and falling bump indicating how deep his length and girth was hitting her.

It was enough to make Slappy wish she was a few decades younger just so this stud really could put a baby in her but all the same, he really knew how to make a woman feel horny. The silver squirrel relishing any and every moment he would cum inside her as they went through a variety of positions. A minute man he was not, no wham bam thank you ma’am here as even took it anal and oral, especially loving when he’d fuck her face as if her mouth and throat were an onahole. It was like he was fucking her as if his life depended on it which unknown to her, it literally was!!

Eventually after what felt an eternity, Moxxie checked his watch to see he had between 5 to minutes remaining on the bomb. Hips blurring as he was taking Slappy doggy style, the intensity and pace so bliss numbing that Slappy couldn’t help but fall into a prone bone position. Ass jiggling as her eyes glowed with pink hearts showing how pleasure overboard her brain was, her face a very rare expressions of fucked silly no fan had likely ever seen on her eben in her porn career. Before she felt the sweet embrace of unconsciousness take her as she came together with the imp one final time, sleep taking her as she basked in the afterglow.

Slappy:*mumbled into her pillow as Moxxie scrambled to make his escape, cock withdrawn from her slit as he rushed to grab and gather up his clothes.* “Daaaamn little man, if I was to die right now? I’d have no regrets…Fucking, A…”*So out of it that she hadn’t realised anything amiss or notice Moxxie jump right through her window. The imp running far away fast as he could, calling Millie or Loona to open up a portal back to Imp City. Just in time as the timer hit Zero, Slappy’s treehouse going up in a flaming mushroom cloud implosion.*

Over the next few days, The living world headlines were running amuck with the news of the sudden and shocking passing of Slappy Squirrel, most chalking it up to a possible gas leak at the least or a hit from one of her enemies. Down in hell, to be precise IMP’s office in Imp city, Moxxie, Millie and Loona were enjoying a rare bit of peace and quiet. The former Especially needed it given he was coping with having survived getting caught in the crossfire or the fact he up and actually offed Slappy Squirrel thatnis after he boned her. When suddenly the phone rang as the hellhound picked it up to answer.

Loona:”I.M.P, who do you want dead and why? Make it quick while I actually try to give a fuck…”*Speaking in her usual aloof blunt manner, humming as whoever was on the other end seemed to do something rare. Actually holding her attention and curiosity as she seemed intrigued.*”Ah-huh…mhmm…you don’t say…hang on…” *Moxxie and Millie seemed puzzled as Loona was grinning, giving the latter a knowing look as she set the phone to speaker. A familiar New Yorker accented husky voice speaking up.*

Slappy:”Hey there little man…..”*Moxxie widened his eyes in shock and panic. Why oh crumbs of course the squirrel wound up and no doubt wanted one thing…revenge!!*” Eeh now don’t worry I ain’t mad at you, You were doing a job besides which, I found ol’ Walter and tore him a new one. That’s what he gets for thinking he got the last laugh. Now how’s about you being that cute little Red Devil booty of yours over here and make my afterlife erotic? See you soon handsome…”*Moxxie had the most adorable dumbstruck expression on his face as the sinner squirrel hung up. Before he felt his phone vibrate, fishing it out to find she’d sent him her address…in the lust circle along with a picture of her naked and posing seductively. Millie and Loona looking over his shoulder, quite impressed.*

Millie:0w0”Hey Moxxie can I come along? I want to have a taste of that silver squirrel myself….”

Moxxie:”ooooh crumbs…”

[k-is-for-potassium]

glam + burn (tx2) post cuz ive been putting it off for a while :D

cw: alcoholism, domestic abuse, and sh mention, swearing, uhh thoughts of murder?

this is mostly about younger glam (like s1 e9 and 10 ish)

the violin intro – glam was under so much pressure to be perfect at the violin so i feel like hed have quite a bit of trauma from it

"i hope you burn" (basically just the whole chorus) – this reminded me of that one bit in his journal where he lets himself slip and writes about what he'd do to gustav if he could. also gustav was an asshole who deserved a painful death

"'cause there's no such thing as hell, but if there was, you'd be the first to burn" – 99% sure glam (and the rest of his metal family) are atheist. also gustav is dead

"oh fuck, what have i done" – i feel like glam would have a bit of trouble snapping back to the calm side of himself, so he may have a few of those thoughts but overall get absorbed into the merciless revenge. idk i wasn't sure how to explain this

"all the words you spit are ingrained" – remember when glam kept snapping at dee while trying to teach him guitar? yeah that's definitely from gustavs constant verbal abuse

"treat a woman like a bitch" – we can't ignore the way mary kept flinching and was always hesitant around gustav. also "she's a girl! [insert whatever comes next cuz i forgot]" like dude. a bit misogynistic, amirite

"i guess your kid's gone mad" – yeah sorry glam but you're a tad bit silly

"look at my wrist" – i believe tx2s original meaning behind this was... something else, but glam also has scars on his wrist from gustavs ruler (which he covers up with the wristbands)

"an alcoholic who couldn't look farther" – gustav was definitely an excessive drinker, and he also couldn't look farther, seeing glam only as someone who needed to be the best of the best, no matter what

honorable mention: "who's the f*g now" – not a glam thing but this was good wordplay because it's both the slur and an old word for a bundle of sticks, like ones that would typically be used in fires

dang this turned out longer than i expected

let's hope it's seen by more than four people :D

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

If You Want Love: One

Read on A03!!

Reblogs are super duper helpful for us writers, so I’d really appreciate if you hit that button if you enjoyed the story :)

~~~

"Do you want to hold him?"

Phil blinks. Looks up. Stares at the nurse. She has very dark lipstick, darker than he remembers. Her mouth, open in a wide smile, displays teeth that are just a bit too white. Her haircut is absolutely atrocious, probably a failed attempt to look like a movie star or a famous singer. 

She inclines her head forward, eyes widening expectantly. "Do you want to hold him?"

Phil blinks. Looks down. Stares at the bundle in her arms, wrapped in a yellow blanket. Yellow. Who chooses yellow for a blanket color? Isn't it supposed to be blue or pink? Maybe the hospital had run out. The yellow blanket is probably old, unwanted. Who chooses yellow?

The bundle makes a noise, and Phil goes very still, heart seeming to stop inside his chest. Is that even possible, for a heart to stop for a moment? No. No, that's not possible. That's ridiculous. Maybe in some situations, perhaps. In situations like these. Yeah. Yeah, it has to be possible. It's possible. Isn't it? It's possible.

"Sir?" 

Phil blinks. Brings his eyes back up. Stares at the nurse, with her too-white teeth and too-dark lipstick and absolutely atrocious haircut. She's still smiling, but Phil can't tell if it's fake or real. 

The nurse—he's sure she's told him her name, he can't remember—chuckles a bit, breathy and awkward. "Do you want to hold him?"

Phil trails his eyes down, back to the bundle wrapped in a yellow blanket. He can't even see the baby's face from here. It's all just a yellow lump. Which is ridiculous. It should be blue. Phil should be able to see him clearly. Why isn't he closer? Why isn't he holding... why is the nurse holding him? Why doesn't Kristin have him?

Oh yeah. Kristin's tired. Of course she's tired; she just had a baby. That must be a pretty tiring event. He can only imagine. 

Actually, he doesn't want to imagine; it was hard enough being in the same room. Phil's glad that he's not the one who has to give birth. Had. Had to give birth. The baby is already born. The baby... the baby is right here. Right here, in the nurse's arms instead of Kristin's. 

"For crying out loud, Philza!"

Phil starts, whipping his head around towards the bed. Hospital bed. That's right, they're in a hospital. Kristin's in the hospital bed.

She looks awful. There's dark bags under her eyes, and dried sweat beaded on her forehead and cheeks and chin. Strands of hair stick to her neck and face. She's smiling. She's perfect.

Phil didn't catch what she said.

"What, um. What?" Phil is horrified at the sound of his own voice, all hoarse and scratchy and raw. Sounds like he just swallowed nails, a whole bucket of them.

That's a stupid analogy. 

Phil's voice is hoarse. 

Kristin's eyes widen in exasperation. "I said, don't you want to hold your son?"

"Oh, of- yes, but... I..."

Son. His son. His son. The bundle in the nurse's arms, wrapped in that awful yellow blanket. The son he can't even see yet. The son whose entire body and face is hidden by the blanket. 

He wants to see his son. He should see his son. That's what fathers do, right? Well yes, of course they do that. He's not stupid. He knows what fathers do.

(He actually has no idea what fathers do.)

And now the nurse steps forward, and why is she so close? Why is she- 

Oh. 

Phil holds his arms out. They feel stiff. Robotic. 

And the nurse, with a gentleness he can't comprehend, sets the bundle—baby, not a bundle, a baby—into those stiff, robotic arms. 

Phil gasps. He doesn't know why. 

The baby is feather-light. Phil barely feels anything. Is the baby... this feels too light. What if the baby doesn't weigh enough? What if something's wrong? 

"Is he too light?" Phil asks, and his voice comes out in a whisper. 

"Is he... oh! Oh, no sir, your baby is a perfectly healthy weight! You have nothing to worry about."

Phil swallows, and this time it really does feel like he's swallowing nails. "Are you sure?"

"Of course. Your baby is just fine at two point nine kilograms; that's perfectly normal."

"Oh."

Three kilograms. He's had cats that weighed more than that. 

That still seems too light. 

Phil presses his lips together, looking down at the baby and- 

Oh. His... the baby's face. Phil can see the baby's face now. Oh.

It's pink. And scrunched up. And his hair is very dark, and a little bit wavy. Huh. Are newborns supposed to have wavy hair? Phil's not quite sure. He's never heard of that. No wait, he has heard of that. It's... it's rare, but not- it's not bad. Yeah. It's not bad. The baby is okay. The baby is-

The baby is looking at him. 

Phil's breath catches, because the baby is looking at him. How hadn't he noticed it earlier? He'd thought the baby was asleep. After all, being born must be a... traumatic experience. Exhausting, at least. It's a real blessing that no one remembers being born, because that would be... well...

Why am I thinking about this? The baby is looking at me. Pay attention to the baby. 

Who is looking at me.

The baby is looking at me.

Phil breathes in shakily, and it sounds quite similar to a gasp, and he realizes that he's been holding his breath for a while. Which is stupid. He needs to breathe. Otherwise he'd pass out, and that would be a real hassle for the nurses. And he'd drop the baby.

Oh shoot he'd drop the baby.

Phil takes another breath in, letting it out. He does it again. And again one more time. They're shaky.

The baby is still looking at him. His eyes are... huh. They're brown. Not blue like Phil's, but brown, like Kristin's. Come to think of it, his hair is dark like Kristin's as well. 

Of course he is. Of course he looks like her. Kristin... Kristin is perfect, so the baby is perfect, just like her. Yes. Yes, that makes sense.

The baby blinks, and Phil cocks his head, staring right back at him. The baby looks so serious that it's sort of funny; Phil would laugh if it wasn't for the fact that he still can't breathe correctly. Not crying or scowling or even smiling, just... looking. And it's not even like he's thinking, either (babies can't think about much, can they? Phil doesn't believe so). No no, it's more like... observing. Quietly, calmly. Just watching.

Newborn babies really do look weird. All disproportionate and pink and...

And Phil's baby really is perfect. 

Phil can't quite think straight anymore. He hasn't been thinking straight for hours now. And that's fine. He doesn't have to think straight. He just needs to hold his baby. His baby. His and Kristin's. No one else's. Not even the nurse's. No one's baby but his. His baby. 

And Phil starts laughing. Because- because he has a baby! And how terrifying is that? How terrifying and scary and stress-inducing and wonderful is that? He has a baby. He actually has a baby. He has a baby and he's holding his baby and his baby has brown eyes and Kristin is here too and-

Kristin. That's right. He has a wife. He has a wife who's now a mother to the baby he holds. Oh yeah.

Phil tears his eyes away from his baby—for a moment, only for a moment—and fixes them on Kristin, sitting up in her hospital bed wearing a hospital gown with bags under her eyes and dried sweat on her forehead and tangled hair and oh she is perfect!

Kristin smiles, moving her mouth, and... Phil thinks she's saying something. Yes, she's definitely saying something. 

Phil grins, breathing out another laugh. "What?"

"I said, are you okay?"

"Why..." Phil swallows, still grinning. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, honey, you've gone pretty pale. And you're crying."

"I..." Phil is crying. He can feel the tears on his face. He laughs some more. "Yeah!"

Phil looks back down at his baby—his baby, how crazy is that!—and laughs some more and cries some more and looks at his son. His son! His son with brown eyes and wavy hair! His son!

"That's mine!" Phil says, and he glances back at Kristin, still grinning. "He's my kid!"

Kristin nods slowly, eyebrows raised. "...yes. He is your kid, Philza. We've known that for nine months."

"I know!" Phil squeaks, looking back down at his kid—oh his kid is perfect he's too perfect for this world how the heck did he end up with Phil—and laughing again. "He's mine! He's my kid, Kristin!"

"Both of ours."

And then Phil is right beside Kristin, holding his baby against his chest and turning him so Kristin can see his brown eyes. "Look! Kristin, look!"

"I see." Kristin chuckles. "I see, Phil."

Phil nods, even though he hadn't really heard what his wife said. "I mean- Kristin, look at him! He's... he's so... he's so...!"

Another laugh bursts from Phil's lips, and he suddenly feels dizzy. 

"Phil?"

Phil grins, kissing his wife's cheek. "He's... yeah! You're so... oh my gosh, Kristin, you're... yes!"

"Here, let me take..."

"Kristin, I can't... oh my gosh. You're- hey! Hey, where's- where's-!"

"Phil, look at me. He's right here."

"Oh. Oh, that's... okay. Yeah."

Phil's arms feel so empty now. He wonders how he'd never noticed it before; they won't feel right, they won't feel complete, until he gets to hold his baby again. He needs to get him back, why did Kristin take him away?

"Phil, it's my turn. You're swaying on your feet right now."

"I am?" Come to mention it, the ground is starting to look a little wavy. That's weird. Why is it doing that? 

"Uh, nurse, nurse! I need, um- help!"

Phil blinks. What in heaven's name is going on? Kristin is going to scare his baby if she keeps this up.

The ground still looks wavy. 

And then suddenly the ground is a whole lot closer, and Phil's eyes widen. What in the-

Oh. He's sitting down. He's sitting down in a chair, in one of those stiff hospital chairs that hurts his back. That's odd; he doesn't remember sitting down. Why is he-

"I'll get him some water." The nurse. 

Phil scowls. Why is she back here again? Isn't this more of a private moment, holding your baby for the first time? She really should leave. He aught to tell her that.

"Phil, why don't you try to rest, okay?"

"Rest?" Phil scoffs. "Why would I do that?"

Kristin sighs. "Because you're going to pass about."

"I am?" 

"Phil, you were swaying on your feet a few seconds ago!"

"I'll be fine!" Phil turns up his mouth into a grin. "I'm doing great, actually. Kristin, we have a kid!"

Kristin sighs, a tired smile forming on her lips. "I know. And that's great! I'm happy that you're happy! But please just... rest. Okay?"

"But-"

"I'll be right here when you wake up."

"Kri-"

"Both of us will be here when you wake up."

Phil's mouth tightens. Kristin raises her eyebrows. "Okay?"

Phil stares at his wife for a second or two before sighing. "Fine. But if you need... if my baby needs me, then-"

"I'll wake you up. Promise. Now sleep."

Phil lets out another huff, and he really does want to protest. He wants to stand up and walk right back to Kristin's bed and kiss her cheek and take his baby out of her arms and into his own and hold him forever. He truly does want to do that. Quite badly, in fact.

But... curse the world and everything in it, Phil is tired. And he doesn't want to be. He doesn't want his eyes to feel so heavy and droopy, he doesn't want to fall asleep, he has a kid to look after, how can he sleep?

But... Kristin did say that if something—anything—happened, then she'd wake him up. Yeah. She said that. And Phil believes her. 

Fine. Okay then. He'll take a short nap; just enough to regain some energy. And after that, he'll hold his baby again and he'll never ever let him go. 

Yeah. That's a good plan. He'll do just that. 

I'll do just that, Phil thinks to himself, eyes already drifting closed. I'll do just that. I'll do just that...

[ap0callypse]

AROUND THE FIRE

Boatem hanging out around a fire pit (no warnings, just soft fluff)

Words: 596

The spring air buzzed around the group. The embers from the fire pit they had lit a couple hours before settling down, somehow still going, hitting each member of the group’s faces. Their bundles laid beside them, except for two. Impulse laying atop his rolled out bundle. And Scar on his, dozing off with lidded eyes.

 The quiet murmur of Mumbo behind him, sitting on the wood log they had found. His pencil scratched against the worn and old journal. Scar nestled in between his legs, his head against the other’s knee. 

Grian against Scar on the ground, his head on Scar’s shoulder and also sat between Mumbo’s legs, fast asleep. His soft whistled breathing unheard under the fires crackling.

On the other side of the fire pit, Pearl tells Impulse a story about aliens and dragons, giant wild mushrooms that come in all colors and smells. Impulse trying to stay awake and hear the rest of Pearl’s story, but falling to the same fate as Grian.

Pearl, eventually giving up as Impulse falls asleep, looks up at Mumbo.

“Bo?”

Nothing

“Mumbo.”

She tries again.

“Mumbo K. Jumbo.”

Still nothing. Sigh. She picks up a pebble and aims for his head.

“Ow!”

“Oh please, that was nothing.” She laughs at him. He looks up at her, expectantly. Pearl smiles at him before setting her elbows on her knees, leaning forward to look at him through the flames.

“They look comfortable.” She gestures to the two sleeping against Mumbo.

He glances down. He looks at them so fondly, she thinks. Mumbo ruffles Grian's hair, his face scrunching up and he shoves his face closer to Scar's shoulder, almost on his neck. Pearl can see Scar shiver faintly.

“I'm guessing we’re staying up tonight?” Mumbo says and looks back up at Pearl. She nods and grabs a thick branch and her pocket knife. The scratching of lead against paper starts up again.

“What are you writing in that thing of yours?” 

The scratching continues as he responds, “What happened today. The infected we saw, specifically.” Ah yes, she forgot. Mumbo is a thinker, he likes to think of things logically before emotionally. 

“What’s your guess on them?”

“People who met an unfortunate demise. Probably were bitten by another infected and it spread through them.”

“But how exactly? How do they turn into..those things.” She says with a hint of disgust in her voice.

“Their body decays. The infection jump-starts a nasty reaction to the place they were bitten and it spreads externally until their body is covered in fungus.”

“Ew.”

“Yeah.”

They both fall into comfortable silence, Pearl continuing to chip away at her stick and Mumbo writing in his journal.

“Mhmm..”

They both look up from their hands. Mumbo feels a tap on his calf. He looks down to meet Scar’s now half-open eyes. He still looks tired but gives Mumbo a small smile.

“You..are very close.”

Scar slurs his words but Mumbo hears him and makes a questioning sound.

“About the..um the infected people.”

“Ah..really?”

“Mhm..”

Mumbo makes another sound and reaches down to pet Scar’s head, murmuring to him. Pearl can’t make out what he is saying, it's too quiet for her to hear. Mumbo leans down and continues whispering to him, Pearl still not being able to hear them watches them intently. Scar’s small smile widens. He nods then tucks his face back into Mumbo’s knee, content with whatever Mumbo was saying.

She lets them have their peace and looks away, continuing to chip away at her, now pointed, stick. 

[boldlyvoid]

No Longer Alone Together: Part 4

Part 4 | Masterlist

December 10th: Santa Day 

They meet the LaMontagne’s there in Kirkland Falls, parking and paying for their spot on the side of the road for the day. The kids are all bundled up, JJ has a thermos full of coffee and Penny has shown up too. It’s the first year that the Santa parade and craft show is back on since covid, so everyone is out this year. 

The streets are filled with people and vendors, there’s cider and mulled wine, the streets smell like ginger and the sound of laughter and sleigh bells ring all around them. 

It’s finally Christmas again.

She keeps Noelle close, Penny and Luna hold hands just in front of her and behind her, Spencer and Atlas are deep in conversation with Henry. Will has Michael on his shoulders, JJ holds hands with Rosie. They get snacks and pick a good seat for the parade together, catching candy canes and screaming along to the songs being blasted from the floats. They wave at Santa, excited to see him later at the photo ops… it was only Henry who currently knew Santa wasn’t real and he promised not to break the hearts of his little siblings and cousins. 

It’s hard to believe he’s 13 now and Rosie is 9… it’s all blown by so fast since the first time they were here. 

Like clockwork, they separate into 2 teams, the girls normally go and shop together one way and the boy's shop on the other side of the town, only this year Noelle and Atlas switched teams. 

Noelle wanted to be with Michael… they’re 6 (almost 7) and spend every moment possible together. Will jokes about them getting married one day, Y/N’s not at all ready to even humour him. And Laura likes to remind him that gay people exist and statistically, with her love for dirt bikes and skateboards, it doesn’t bode well for his theory. 

Atlas on the other hand, he really wanted to go with his mom so he could get something special with his own money that he’s been saving these last few months. You see, every time the kids saw their grandparents, Liam handed them each a crisp ten-dollar bill to spend on anything of their choosing. They loved to spoil their grandkids, she couldn’t blame them.  

He holds her hand through all the stores, for being almost 8 years old, she’s so lucky he’s still cuddly and loves being by her side. Luna stays with aunty Penny, off looking at the homemade baby doll clothes that one of the vendors make, while Rosie stuck by JJ. 

“How much money do I have again?” Atlas asked, tugging on her coat sleeve slightly. 

“40 dollars,” she remembers putting 4 10s in her wallet for him, this morning.

“Is that a lot right now?” He asks, overhearing too many grown-up conversations about inflation and how stupid the price of lettuce was getting. He now knew that sometimes what looked like a lot of money, wasn’t, and what normally wasn’t worth a lot sometimes became expensive based on demand.

“Yeah, I’m sure you can get something nice with it,” she assures him. “If you see anything else after you’ve spent it, I don’t mind paying for it, it’s Christmas after all.” 

He takes his time looking around, making note of what is offered and where, following in his mom's footsteps of not making a big decision until she knows all her options. “I think I want to go back to that lady who’s selling the homemade cardigans… I want to buy the purple and green one for dad.” 

“Awe, okay,” she thinks thats a wonderful idea. “Let me just tell aunty Penny,” she explains while looking over the racks in this store they’re in. She spots penny and waves her over, they explain where they’re going and she agrees to stick with Luna till they catch up again. 

She holds Atlas’s hand all the way down the street on their way back to the venders set up in the town hall, where they started their search for presents. Luckily, the other half of their group wasn’t there now, they wouldn’t run into them and ruin the surprise. 

“Oh, welcome back,” the kind older woman remembers them, it was hard to forget Atlas and his sweet little face and confident voice. 

“Hi,” he gives her a sweet smile. “How much was that cardigan?” He points up at the same one he inquired about earlier. 

It’s hand knit in an array of greens and purples that normally fill Spencers wardrobe, it would go with most of his dress shirts and slacks, and all of his brown shoes too. It’s exactly what Spencer would pick if he was shopping on his own and his son knew that. 

“For you, $40,” she lowers the price from last time, the last time Y/N asked and it was $60. “Are you thinking about getting it for someone special? It’s far too big for you, just yet.”

He nods, “for my dad…” he turns right to his mom then, “can I have my money? I’m going to get it.” 

“Sure thing,” she searches her purse for her wallet and unzips it, pulling out 4 10 dollar bills and counting them out before she hands them to him. “Are you sure you want to use your money? I can get it for you?” 

“Yes, Christmas is about giving, remember? I want to do it,” he assures her. 

She wants to tear up, he’s so cute and so grown up. She remembers the first time she was at this very Christmas market, with a very tiny Henry who was just as adamant about getting a present for his new baby sister… “okay, go for it, love bug.” 

Atlas hands the lady the money with a huge smile, “can I please buy that cardigan?” 

“Of course,” she’s so happy to help him. She puts her money in the change box safely and then reaches for the cardigan. “Would you like a pretty bag and some tissue paper for it?” 

He nods, “yes please… um, is it extra?” 

“Not for you, sweetie,” she can’t help but give in to him. “It always warms my heart to see young people so excited to give gifts. I want to help you make this special for your dad… how old are you?” She asks, folding the cardigan up nicely in some tissue paper. 

“I’m going to be 8 on the 20th,” he shares with a big smile. 

“Happy early birthday,” she cheers. “So young and so thoughtful, you should be proud, mom.” 

“Oh, I am,” she can’t help the smile on her face as she watches on. “He’s the best little guy in the world,” she hooks an arm around him and pulls him back into her space, kissing the top of his hat-covered head gently. 

Once he has his purchase, he thanks the lady and waves to her as they walk away, Y/N holds his other hand on the walk back outside, unable to stop smiling at how proud she is. 

Outside, they take a seat on the bench together quickly, “did you know when I first started dating your dad, we came here and I got a present for you both, well before I was even pregnant with you?” 

“Really?”

She nods softly, “yep. I got a little cardigan that looked like one Spence— your dad, used to wear to visit me at work and I thought when we finally got pregnant I’d tell him with it and then you’d be able to match one day.” 

“Is it the cardigan from the photo in my room?” He asks, eyes wide and full of wonder. 

She nods, “thats the one. Henry helped me pick it out and then for Christmas he got me a little dress for if we had a girl first.” 

“That’s so nice,” Atlas cheers, looking up at her with a sweet smile. 

He looks so much like his dad that sometimes it hurts her heart knowing they’re only ever going to have the one boy. No more Spencer mini-me’s… unless PJ stopped looking more like Laura’s side and more like Spencer, but they doubt that would happen. 

The first time she was at this Christmas market she was looking for a gift for Spencer to tell him when she got pregnant, Now, she’s pregnant again and needs a fun way to tell the rest of their kids. 

“Can I tell you a secret? You can’t tell your sisters yet…” She whispers, watching him nod with excitement, “I’m having another baby…” 

“Really?” He lights right up, “when?” 

“In the summer, July sometime,” she doesn’t give an exact day cause it could happen anytime that month.  

“Does dad know?” 

She nods, “yeah, we’ve already gone to an appointment to see the baby and everything… I want to tell your sisters soon, you think you can help me with that?” 

He nods, “yeah! What should we do?” 

“I was thinking now that you’re almost 8, maybe you can stay up a little later and help me make them both some best big sister shirts?” She offers, “I think you’re old enough to get an extra hour with us at night now?”

He hugs her so tight, “I am, I promise… and then I can see you more after work.” 

“My thoughts exactly,” she kisses the top of his hat-covered head again. “I love spending time with you, my sweet boy.” 

—

They meet the rest of the family back by Santa’s photo op booth. Spencer had signed them up for family photos last week, assuring that they got a time slot with Santa in case the whole state of Virginia decided to come to Santa day. Which, looking back on it, now that the line is as long as the street is, it was such a smart move on Spencer's part. 

They get all the kids into one photo and it’s hilarious. Henry looks miserable with his newfound teen angst, Rosie stands beside Atlas with a big smile. Noelle and Michael are busy pinching each other and making the other laugh, all while Luna sits on Santa’s lap with a sweet smile, looking like a paid actress hired to sit there. All their personalities were perfectly on display, it was hilarious. 

They also get an individual family photo to send out to their parent's retirement home, Derek in Chicago and Hotch in Seattle. But maybe they won’t send one to Derek, seeing as him, Sav and Hank were finally coming to the All-idays party this year. It’s been so long since the kids have seen uncle Derek, they missed him a lot but he had to move to take care of his mom with his sisters.

While Spencer is getting the photos printed, she stands with JJ, and the kids are with Will and Penny getting hot chocolate and cookies just down the street. She’s taking deep breaths, rubbing her tummy, not feeling all too well and JJ can see that. 

“Do you want to go sit?” JJ asks, knowing from Will that she is pregnant again. 

She nods, taking JJ’s hand and walking with her over to the nearest bench to take a seat. JJ whips out her phone almost right away, sending will a text asking him to see if the vendor they’re at also has some ginger ale for her. “Do you want a snack or something?” 

She shakes her head, “no, I’m afraid to puke in front of the girls… they don’t really know yet.” 

“Atlas does?” 

She nods, “yeah, I just told him… I got all nostalgic about being here with Henry the first time, dreaming of being pregnant with Spencer’s babies and now I am and ugh it’s not as dreamy as I thought.” 

“Not at all,” JJ agrees with a smile. “Will told me everything, how are you feeling about it?” 

“Nervous, but good,” she’s honest. “You could have another too and then we’d be tied again?” 

She laughs, “yeah, no thanks!” 

Y/N laughs too, “I figured, you’re too busy with work right now, anyway… how are you doing, anyway? I haven’t talked to you in forever it seems?” 

“i know, the Sicarius case kicked my ass, honestly,” she straightens her posture the way she does when she’s uncomfortable. “I’m just glad we have 2 weeks off… you know, unless—

“Kids or terrorism, I know the drill,” Y/N remembered, breaks weren’t really breaks, they were always on call for the big things. 

“Yeah… honestly, they offered me a retirement package in the hospital after the explosion and I’m still thinking about it,” she shares, and Y/N can tell that she hasn’t told anyone that before. The look on her face is one of guilt and regret. 

“Was it a lot of money?” 

She nods, eyes wide as if the number was a lot larger than Spencer's, “really? Damn…”

“I love my job, I really do, but at the same time, I’m so tired of these fuckers turning their heat back on us, this call was way too fucking close this time… it might not be just a close call next time.” 

“It’s crazy to think about everything you guys have gone through,” Y/N shakes her head in disbelief. “I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to leave… could you get a job with Will?” 

“I’ve been thinking about it,” she admits. “I’ve been offered some captain positions in DC, I’d never be his captain, that would be weird, but I think being on the force would still be fulfilling for me and I could build a better relationship between the locals and the feds having been one.” 

“True,” she pretends to know anything about the cop world… it wasn’t something she paid much attention to now that Spencer was an author and not a fed. “It would be nice to have you around more… I know Will misses you a lot during the week ‘cause he spends his time bugging me.” 

“He considers you his best friend after me, you know that?” JJ smirks, not jealous in the tiniest bit. 

Y/N nods with a smile, “he’s 3rd on my list, Spence and Laura are up there first.” 

“He knows that too,” JJ wraps her arm around her and pulls her into a side hug. “This is all I ever wanted for Spence, you know when I told him to just see where life took him…”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, either,” Y/N rests her head against JJ’s with a sweet smile. “I knew you guys  were like a family when I started dating him, but this… this is everything.” 

December 12th: Growing Up

It’s another regular Monday night in the Reid household, only tomorrow Y/N doesn’t have to go to work. She has her annual 12 days off coming up, and she’ll go back in on Boxing Day… the day after Christmas was surprisingly busy at the museum, and with most families having their vacation time after Christmas, the museum was the perfect place to spend the Monday after Christmas. 

She’ll probably even bring Atlas that day she goes back, he can meet some of her friends at the Air and Space museum and have his own tour while the girls stay home with Spence. Noelle will probably ask to go see Michael, and Luna will want to see Penelope and show her all the new bows and dresses she got for Christmas… it’ll be a great Boxing Day. 

But today, today's just a normal Monday. The kids go to school, she goes to work for noon, they come home from school to their dad, she comes home at 7:30, just in time to tuck them in. Normal as ever. 

Luna and Noelle go down to bed quite easily, they always slept the hardest on a Monday night. The excitement from the weekend mixed with the exhaustion of waking up early again tuckered them out right around 8. Atlas, on the other hand, was sitting up in bed with one of his new space books, waiting to be tucked in when Y/N opened his door. 

“Hey, love bug,” she smiles at him and then holds her finger over her mouth to keep his voice down. “Do you want to come and spend more time downstairs with me and your dad?” 

He nods like his head is on a spring, throwing his blankets back and jumping out of bed in a hurry. He gives her a big hug at the door and takes her hand in his on the way back down the stairs together. Spencer’s surprised to see him coming down too, “did you forget something?” 

“Nope,” Y/N smirks, taking a seat on the living room couch beside Spencer and pulling Atlas into her lap for a snuggle. He’s getting so big but he’s still her little baby as he lays his head on her shoulder and wraps his arms around her middle. “I was thinking he’s old enough to stay up till 9:30 now… what do you think?” 

“Yeah, I think thats a great idea,” Spencer snuggles into her side and wraps an arm around Atlas too. “This is nice.” 

The room is all festive, with the main lights off and the Christmas tree on. The electric fireplace under the TV is going, blankets are out, even Bozo the cat, who’s very old and hides under their bed most of the day, is cuddled up on the tree skirt. It’s so cozy and exactly how she always dreamed her life would look one day. 

“We were going to plan something to tell the girls about the baby,” she whispers, reminding Atlas that she was pregnant again. 

He sits right up with a smile, “can I tell them for my birthday next week?” 

“Oh, honey? Don’t you want the day to just be about you?” Y/N worries, never wanting to take any attention off him when he was already losing attention due to the close proximity to Christmas. 

“I don’t mind sharing,” he assures them with a confident smile that makes his brown eyes glisten in the Christmas tree lights. “I want to tell them.” 

“Okay,” she agrees easily. She can’t say no to him very often, he’s just too cute. “How do you want to tell them?” 

“Do you still have my little cardigan from that picture in my room?” 

“I do…” she feels her heart swell just imagining where he’s going with this. 

“What if we wrap it and I can give it to them and explain it’s for our new baby?” 

She turns to Spencer who’s just as blown away by how sweet that is, they shake their heads, amazed that they made him. “Yeah, bug, we can do that,” Spencer rubs his back gently, “thats a really sweet idea.” 

“Is it a boy or a girl?” He wonders aloud. 

“A girl,” Y/N smiles. “You’re going to have 3 little sisters now.” 

“Oh good,” he sighs, almost as if he’s relieved. 

“Did you want another sister?” Y/N can’t help but laugh. 

He nods, “Michael is a nuisance… that’s what Will says, anyway, and he’s always messing with Rosie so I don’t want a brother, I like how nice my sisters are.”

They both laugh at how he picks up new words and repeats them, his vernacular was getting huge. “You’re a good brother, that’s why they’re nice to you,” Y/N rubs his back with a smile, “you’re all so good to each other I was a little worried you wouldn’t want another baby to ruin it all.” 

“There’s new babies in the family all the time?” He looks at her like she grew two heads, like how did she not notice all the babies? “Baby Rose Mary, then PJ, now aunty Laura’s new baby and yours… every year we have a new baby.” 

“I think this baby is going to be the last baby in our family for a while,” Spencer presses his lips together awkwardly, feeling bad for breaking the news to him like this. “We’re all getting too old to keep having babies.” 

“You remember what we told you about how babies are made right? Mama’s eggs aren’t the best anymore,” she feels a twinge of sadness as she explains it. Sighing with a frown. “When people who can get pregnant reach 35 there’s a lot more risks for the babies to be born with medical issues.” 

“Oh,” he looks worried as he carefully lays his hand on her stomach. “Is she okay?”  

She nods, putting back on a smile, “she is, she’s just going to look a little different from you and your sisters and she might be really tiny too.” 

“Smaller than PJ was?” 

She nods, “yeah… she has something called down syndrome, do you know what that is?” 

He shakes his head, Y/N turns to Spencer, hoping he knew how to explain it a bit better. 

He nods, knowing what to say, “so mom has 23 chromosomes in her eggs and I have 23 in the sperm… and uhh, and sometimes when people get older they can pass on more that 23, which is what happened with your sister. She has an extra chromosome and that means she’s going to have smaller features and possibly a learning disability or speech problems. She’s going to be a little different but we’re going to love her all the same, right?” 

He nods, “I love her so much already.” 

It was that simple. Kids are so wonderful, it takes just a second to explain something new to them and set expectations of kindness. She was going to look different and possibly experience the world a lot differently, but she was his littler sister. Of course, he was going to love her. 

He had so much love in his perfect little heart to give. 

[anamelessfool]

IDK if this would ever get into a fic, but hey maybe this is either a sneak peek or a deleted scene 🙃

Nihil sighed wistfully, scratching his chin. “I remember those days. Wild and free, when I was a young boy like yourself.”

“Okay," Copia replied, "But… I'm thirty-eight years old.”

“Oh, yeah.” Nihil chewed his gums with his mouth. “Half your age then. I rode the rails. Milwaukee to New York City.”

Copia raised an eyebrow. He had known Nihil as a pseudo-father for decades but the old man had never been this open about his past before. He smiled thinly. Maybe Nihil's brain was finally going. Might as well humor him. “What with that em…stick with the bundle on it and everything?”

“No, nothing like that at all,” said Nihil. “I didn't have that much stuff, could you imagine? Just me. My guitar. And a song.”

Copia blinked. “I'd like to know how you’re still alive.”

Nihil smiled, considering. He tapped his chin. “I ask myself that every day.”

[storydragonshoard]

You took care of me now, it's my turn.

HalsinxRazzikel(tav)

The VERY rough first draft of the opening chapter to my Halsin/Tav friends to lovers fic featuring my drow ranger tav Razzikel.

Chapter Plot: Call from an old friend right before disaster strikes.

“She got stuck in a tree?” Halsin asked the black obsidian sending stone glowing purple on his desk.

He tried to keep the exhaustion from his voice as he asked it, wanting to hold on to this little bit of peace Razzikel’s calls always gave him.

His old friends' rolling thunder of a voice responded from the other end, the sound soothing some of his frayed nerves.

“Bri didn't get stuck, one of Dritz’s panther’s new cubs did.”

“Ah. Is this the one that likes to follow her around?” He reached over to the cup of tea he had on the table, using a fire cantrip to warm it back up as another headache began to rise behind his eyes.

“Yeah. Looks like the panther cub chose her as their person. Like father, like kid.”

He took a sip, letting the honey sweetened wildflower tea and Razzikel’s familiar growl work its magic, “So, Bri was trying to rescue the cub from the tree then?”

“Yeah. She succeeded in getting a hold of them but then couldn't figure out how to get back down one handed.”

He chuckled, “I see. That can be tricky. Especially for one so young.”

“Exactly. Needless to say, Dritz was freaking out.”

He leaned his head on a hand as he stared off into the middle distance, “I imagine. I remember you telling me what happened to her mother.”

“Doesn't help that she inherited the same wild streak. She reminds me of my ma, actually.”

He laughed, something he hadn't been able to do in a while, “Oh No. I remember those stories you told me of your mother. She is already fighting for your honor, I take it?”

“Gods, I can't tell you how many times I have had to pull my dads old move of throwing her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes just she doesnt try to fight someone ten times her size.”

The belly laugh that roared out of him as he pictured a little half elven girl kicking and screaming in rage on Razzikel’s shoulder could be heard out beyond the doors of his lab.

The laugh attracted Nettie’s attention as she came in with bundles of herbs to be broken down, a soft smile on her face, before she sat them down on a table near by and began gathering the tools for her work.

“So, I assume she was much more successful this morning?”

“Oh yeah. She took my advice of grabbing rope next time and used it to make a harness around the cub. That way she could lower her to the ground and then climb down after. She was pretty proud of herself.”

“As she should be.”

He chuckled through the stone then sighed, “Straj…i can't believe she is already six years old.”

“They grow up fast.”

“They sure do. Thankfully, at the rate she is going, we won't have much to worry about when it’s time for her to leave the nest.”

“With you and Dritz raising her, I am sure she will be a force of nature.”

“She already is.”

Through the stone he heard a door open and the rapid padding of small feet across a dirt floor. The sound was then followed by the voice of an excited little girl.

“Uncle Razz, are you talking to Uncle Halsin?”

His chest tightened at the sound of the title he had no idea he had earned.

“I am.”

“Can I talk to him? Please? I have questions.”

“Let me ask.” He heard him chuckle, “You willing to get your ear talked off, Bear?”

He heard the sound of skin hitting fabric.

“Ow!” 

It was followed by the noise a kid makes when they stick out their tongue, followed by a much deeper version of the same.

He could easily picture Razzikel’s ruggedly handsome dark gray face, violet eyes filled with mischief, as he stuck out his tongue.

The image warmed his chest while at the same time set his heart to aching. It had been over a decade since they had seen each other face to face. Not since before Razzikel’s late husband had passed.

Silvanus have mercy, he missed the man terribly.

But he had a niece now. And she needed him. So he pushed the feelings to the side.

“I am willing if it is alright with you.”

“Let me hand it to her then.” He heard excited squealing from the other end.

“What do I do?” He heard her whisper.

“Just speak into it.”

“Okay.” There was a pause before,“Hi Uncle Halsin. Can you hear me?”

He nearly cried but held himself together.

“I can hear you, little one.”

There was another squeal followed by, “My name is Brionna but you can call me Bri. Uncle Razz has told me a lot of stories about you!”

He couldn't help the wide grin on his face, “Oh he did did he?”

“Yeah! He said you used to do a lot of stuff together and that you rescued him from being stuck as a wolf and that people sometimes make jokes about you liking honey, which is rude, honey is delicious, and that you're a really good healer and that you're a…a…” He heard her whisper again, “What was it called again?”

“What do you mean?” Razzikel whispered back.

“Like a druid but like…more. Like he’s really important… Like a..a.. super druid!”

Oak father preserve him. 

He had to put a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing as he heard Nettie cover an amused snort.

He could hear the barely held snicker in Razzikel's voice as he replied, “You mean an Archdruid?”

“Yeah! That’s it! But what’s the difference?”

“I am a druid who is the leader of a grove of druids.” Halsin supplied.

“Oh! Like a boss!”

He chuckled, “Close enough.”

“So,” she started, “Since you're a Archdruid you know lots about animals and stuff right?”

“I do.”

“Do you know what a manatee is?”

“No, I am afraid not.” He lied. “What are they?” 

He could see Nettie raise an eyebrow out of the corner of his eye.

“Sea Cows!” 

He could sense the info dump on the horizon and settled into his chair with a smile. “Sea cows?”

“Yeah! They are the same size but they have one big fin in the back and two smaller hand fins in front and cute squishy faces and they're all rolly and chubby like a cow and they live in the ocean! But do you know what is special about them?”

“What?”

“They can't be mean!”

“Oh? Why?”

“Because the thing inside people that makes them mean and angry doesn't exist in manatees! They are just sweet and nice all the time and even sharks, the main thing that eats them, doesn't want to because of how nice they are! Isn’t that amazing!”

“That is pretty amazing.”

From across the lab he could see Nettie smiling as she premade some salves they had run out of.

“Also, is it true that you can turn into an animal? Like a cat or…or…a wolf like Uncle Razz?”

“Most druids have this ability, yes.”

“Can you turn into an Owlbear?”

“I can.”

“If we visit, can you turn into one so I can touch your feathers? Uncle Razz says the real one we saw the other day was too dangerous. Especially since she had a cub with her. But she was so pretty and her feathers looked soft and I wanted to touch them so badly but Uncle said she would eat me and I believed him because she was huge!”

He envied Razzikel in this moment, having a child to raise and teach even if it wasn’t his own. 

It reminded him of his own lost chance, consumed by the role that was forced on him out of convenience.

He tried to picture Brionna as Razzikel had described her, an energetic spitfire of a child with curly red hair, pale gray skin and violet eyes running around as kids want to do.

His heart ached, but he pushed it aside. He was needed here.

So instead he took his chance to pretend, even if just for a little while.

“If you, your father, and your uncle are able to make it to the grove it would be an honor to become an owlbear for you.”

“Really really?”

Just before he responded he heard a door open and the sound of larger footsteps than Bri’s but lighter than Razzikels walking across the floor.

“Really really.”

He saw Nettie mouth at him teasingly “softie” and just shook his head.

Bri let out a joy filled squeal just before a slightly higher pitched but velvety male voice spoke.

“What did my daughter just get Master Halsin to agree too?’

He heard Razzikel’s deep rumbling laugh as Bri shouted, “Uncle Halsin is gonna turn into an Owlbear for me when we get to visit him!”

“Oh. All right then.”

“Hello Dritz.” He spoke loud enough to hear.

“Hello, Master Halsin. Has she told you about the Manatee’s yet?”

“She has. It’s her current hyperfixarion i take it?”

“It sure is. Been telling everybody who will listen since she read the book about sea creatures you sent. However…you still have preparations to make kiddo. You and your companion start training today, remember?”

“Oh right! Sorry Uncle Halsin, i have to go. We can't come visit you until my cub and i complete enough training to travel. Faster i can learn, the faster we can visit.”

“I understand.”

“Hope to meet you soon! Love you, bye! Here ya go Uncle Razz.”

The sound of boot steps and small feet retreating across the floor was followed by a door slam and a sigh.

“I give it a month tops and we will be on our way.”

“She learns that quickly?”

“She does. She’s like us.”

“It is a good thing your there for her then.”

“If I hadn't, Dritz would have probably had a heart attack from stress by now.”

“Sounds like things are going well.”

“Yeah. It’s been a good spring. How about you? You doing all right?”

He paused debating whether or not to tell him. A part of him really just wanted to unload everything but a much stronger part of him didn't want to burden him with his problems.

So he decided to go somewhere in a vague middle.

“Just the trials and tribulations of being an Archdruid. The stress of leadership etc.”

“You're a shit liar you know.”

He sighed.

Of course he would notice.

“You don't have to give me all the dirty details, i just…” He heard the slight growl he did when he was frustrated trying to find the right words. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to shoulder your burdens alone. Be honest with me. Are you okay?”

Halsin looked over to where Nettie was cleaning up and watched as she nodded, put a finger to her mouth and then left the room. 

He closed his eyes, turned back towards the sending stone in his hand, took a deep breath and on the exhale spoke a shaky…

“No.”

“Do you want me to come to you? Dritz and I can train Bri as we travel. We can be there in a week, less if we go off road.”

His heart screamed yes, but his mind…

“Don’t rush yourself on my account, wolf. I will manage.”

“Are you sure?”

No.

“Yes.”

“All right. Just…if it changes, Bear, don't hesitate to call. I’ll come running.”

His very soul was screaming for him to change his mind but he suppressed it…barely.

“I know. Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

The sound of familiar dwarven feet running in his direction turned his attention towards the door. A few seconds later Nettie came in, clearly having ran to him as she struggled to catch her breath.

“What is it Nettie? Are you all right?”

“Master Halsin, there is a large group of tieflings at the gate seeking sanctuary. They are refugees from Elturel. They got hit by that Gnoll pack that moved in north of the toll station.”

“Silvanus have mercy.” Halsin turned toward the sending stone.

Before he could say anything Razzikel responded, “I heard. Go help them. We can talk later. Keep me posted.”

“I will.”

“Stay safe.”

“You too.”

The moment the crystal dimmed Halsin was up and jogging towards the direction of the gate.

—

“So…because Elturel was dropped into the hells, tieflings, who look kinda like devils even though they're not, got kicked out of their home?” Bri asked as she rode on Razzikel’s shoulders down the streets of Yartar.

“Yeah.” He responded as he dodged a man running with a cart of cabbages across the street.

“But…they were born that way right? They didn't choose to be tieflings. What happened wasn't their fault. Why did the people hate them so much?”

“For the same reason people hate your uncle and I.” Dritz explained, “Even though we are not Loth Sworn drow, we look close enough to them that others still hate us for what they did.”

“So they got kicked out because they happened to look like the bad guys even though they weren't?”

“Unfortunately.” Razzikel answered.

“That’s not fair!”

“No it isn’t.” He agreed, “But It is the nature of people to fear what they don't understand. Fear turns to hate which in turn often leads to death.”

“So if the tieflings would have stayed, they would have died?”

“Yes.” Dritz responded, “If they stayed they would have been wiped out by the city guard with no one to defend them, at least on the road, they would have a fighting chance.”

“I am glad that Uncle Halsin is helping them then. He’s really nice.”

“That he is.” Razzikel sighed.

“A bit too nice, seeing he is an Archdruid.”

“I know, right? Bear’s always had a big heart. Still boggles me how he got the position.”

Suddenly a strange feeling went down his spine.

It felt like when his late husband Crow would teleport somewhere.

He started to look around just as people several blocks away started ro scream, and the loud sound of a bell tower falling ripped through the air.

“Dad, Uncle, what is that?” Bri asked fear in her voice.

When he looked up to where she pointed, his eyes widened in horror.

It was a nautaloid! And it was coming straight for them!

Quickly he pulled Bri off his shoulders and shoved her into Dritz’s arms as the tentaxles of the mindflayer ship.begam whipping down the street they were on.

The two men ran as fast as they could, as the pop, pop, pop of people getting pulled onto the ship reverberated behind them.

He could feel the ship get closer and closer as they ran, knowing that without a side street to get down, they wouldnt be abke to out run it.

Juat as he saw one, a shadow of one of the tentacles began to fall across Dritz’s back.

There was no way for him to didge it while carrying Bri, so Razzikel made a split second decision.

Bri could live without an Uncle, but she needed her dad.

With a prayer of protection to Crow, his late husband turned god, he tossed himself into Dritz, knocking them both into the alley to safety, leaving him directly in the Nautaloid tentacles path.

The last thing he remebered before the tentacle hit his back was Dritz and Bri screaming his name, while a familiar pair of yellow gold eyes appeared in the shadows behind them.