#The Raggedy Dove

[wenkh-0]

Raggedycest my beloveds

[circusclownproductions]

was sitting outside feeding this possum berries and I did the birdcall thingy I learned (it’s becoming a stim I fear) and an owl fucking. Talked back. We r communicating …..

[sensivs]

Consider yourself lucky

heian era sukuna x male reader

A/n: I love glazing sukuna idc what anyone says sukuna is literally so fine and he has done nothing wrong, also i js wanna say ty to @ — mmonikurr for helping me w this :)

Cw: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT : dub-con , belly distortion , two cocks (sukuna) , manhandling , fear play , forced eye contact , begging , reader is stated to have a “feminine figure” but u don’t have to have one if u don’t want one 👍🏽 , praise kink (if u squint hard enough) , mentions of mpreg

Y/n’s eyes fixated on his once beloved clan ‘s home, his breathing came out raggedy and rushed, as if he just ran a marathon.

Who could’ve done such destruction on this big village?

Through the smoke y/n saw a large figure emerge, along with a slightly smaller figure walking beside it. The both of them bared no wounds and actually looked cleaner than ever.

Y/n slowly raised himself from his knees and began steadily walking backwards, keeping his eyes on the two figures who chatted away in front of his burning clan.

Y/n descended into the forest slowly but surely, occasionally making sure his footing was in the correct position. CRACK! Y/n’s face went pale as he realized what he had done.

A stick had perfectly positioned itself below y/n’s foot and snapped in half, causing the big sound. The man wasted no time in running as fast as he could, using the bases of the trees as small boosts as he booked it.

But tonight was not y/n’s night, as he then tripped and fell over an uprooted branch. Fear and adrenaline coursed through y/n’s veins but there was no time to get up, as both the large figure and smaller figure steadily made their way towards the fallen man.

Y/n did nothing but close his eyes and pray to himself that he would be able to survive this night and be able to see another day. The footsteps gradually became closer until they finally stopped by his feet.

“Uraume, check this boy for any injuries” a deep and menacing voice spoke, y/n heard “uraume” hum before being forced onto his knees and having to look into uruame’s red eyes.

Y/n stared into their eyes as they thoroughly checked his face, uruame’s fingers gracefully floated over y/n’s face, taking their time to touch and probe at the man’s face, occasionally rubbing some dirt off of y/n’s face.

“He’s all clear sir” uraume spoke before back to where they once stood. “Good to hear, I don’t want my playthings to be ugly with a face full of scars” the large figure walked towards y/n, their extremely buff and big figure making the smaller male on the ground cower more into the dirt in fear.

“Get up” the bigger male’s voice commanded. Y/n basically jumped to his feet, looking up at the other man’s face with tears in his eyes. “Hm, what a precious boy we have, truly much better looking than all the others” y/n’s cheeks became a sweet pink color as the compliment sunk into his skin.

A pair of large and course hands wrapped themselves around y/n’s waist, causing the male to gasp from the sudden touch. Another pair of hands caressed y/n’s face, “my name is sukuna ryomen , but to you, it ‘s master, got it?” Y/n nodded as soon as sukuna finished his introduction.

“What a feminine body you have.. are you sure you’re not a girl?” Y/n tensed up, “no master.. im no girl..” the smaller male said through trembling lips and in a tiny voice.

Sukuna hummed, “what a shame, I would’ve impregnated you the moment you said you were” y/n ‘s face grew hot with the thought of someone more huger than him rearranging his insides.

“Guess you’ll have to do for now” y/n let out a surprised gasp as he then felt his robe being undone and being swept off his shoulders. The cold air of the night breezed over y/n ‘s exposed skin, making him shiver.

“Aw, want me to warm you up sweet boy?” Sukuna ‘s words were laced with lust and desire, y/n opened his mouth to respond but was then cut off as sukuna ‘s bottom pair of arms lifting him off the ground as if he were nothing.

Y/n and sukuna were now at eye level with each other. Sukuna ‘s four eyes staring deep within the naked man ‘s soul, y/n couldn’t help but avert his gaze away from sukuna ‘s deformed face.

Causing sukuna to get irritated and grab y/n ‘s face with one of his many hands, “look at me, boy, I am your savior, I am your god, so you will treat me as so”.

Y/n could do nothing but whimper and force himself to once again look into sukuna ‘s eyes. “Good boy” ryomen purred, his already cocky smirk growing even more cockier by the second as he looked at y/n’s fearful face.

And just like a god, sukuna dropped y/n back on the forest floor because “mortals have no business being on par with their gods”.

The “god” placed a hand on y/n ‘s head, grabbing a fistful of hair and tugging him more close to his upper inner thigh. “As a servant, you must do everything I say, alright?” Y/n nodded eagerly.

“Hm, that’s what I like to see, now, as your first task for me, you will suck my cock. Got it?” Sukuna watched as y/n shakily nod and reach up to untie his pants lace.

Y/n then grabbed the hem of sukuna’s pants and slowly pulled them down, revealing not only one, but two extremely long and thick cocks. Drool dripped out the corners of y/n ‘s mouth as he stared intently at the two cocks.

Sukuna chuckled, “hasn’t anyone taught you staring is rude?” Y/n blushed and bowed his head, “m-my apologies.. master..” , sukuna chuckled and pulled on y/n ‘s hair. Causing the man to yelp and grab onto sukuna ‘s strong thighs.

Y/n looked up into ryomen ‘s demanding eyes, “well? Get to it slut” , y/n let out a quick ‘yes master!’ Before wrapping his lips around the tip of one of sukuna ‘s cocks while groping the base of the other.

Sukuna groaned as he then moved his hands that were in y/n ‘s hair down to the base of his neck. Y/n licked and slurped on sukuna ‘s big and girthy tip, coating it entirely in saliva.

“Fuck.. go down that shaft, I need to feel my head hit the back of that whorish mouth” y/n did what was asked of him and began to slowly deepthroat sukuna ‘s cock. Gaining a loud and drawn out groan out of sukuna.

Soft and whispered curses leaked out of sukuna ‘s mouth as y/n began to bob his head on sukuna’s cock, making his way down the base.

While y/n worked on sukuna’s top cock, he began to stroke the bottom one at a slow pace, making sure to fondle the balls as well.

“Fuck.. I’m c-cumming.. don’t even try to pull back now, you’re going to take my entire load deep in that slutty throat of yours” and just like that, sukuna came in y/n ‘s mouth, coating his once pink insides a creamy white.

Sukuna ‘s second cock spurted it’s essence onto y/n ‘s bare chest, some dripping down to his abdomen and down his own cock.

Y/n ‘s pushed himself off sukuna ‘s cock with a gasp, coughing up some left over cum that got stuck in his throat. “We’re not done yet boy, get up”.

The cum-covered man got up, his legs trembling as if he were a newly born fawn. Sukuna ‘s bottom arms wrapped themselves around y/n ‘s waist, hoisting him up to where his head laid comfortably between sukuna ‘s pecs.

Sukuna’s hands then slowly slid down towards y/n ‘s ass, taking the two cheeks into his palms. Spreading them out enough to where y/n ‘s hole was visible. Sukuna then took one of his hands off of y/n ‘s ass to perfectly position one of his cocks directly below y/n ‘s hole.

The sound of the combination of a wet cock and a dry hole filled the quiet forest, along with a surprised moan from y/n. Sukuna smirked at y/n ‘s response, but he wanted a more extreme reaction.

A light went off above sukuna ‘s head as an idea popped into his malicious mind. Ryomen thrusted his hips up, making contact with y/n ‘s plush cheeks. Y/n through his head back as he let out a much more pleasurable and loud moan than before, along with that, a string of a certain warm and creamy white substance squirted out of the tip of y/n ‘s cock.

“Cant even handle a single thrust? This isn’t looking good for you boy” sukuna said with a snicker, y/n was about to argue with him but decided to kept his mouth shut. Ryomen slid y/n back up, earning a groan out of him. Sukuna then grabbed his other cock and positioned beside his other cock.

He slid the tip in, causing y/n to dig his face into the crevasse of sukuna ‘s pecs. And with another thrust, ryomen ‘s other cock had successfully entered y/n ‘s already filled hole.

Y/n clawed at sukuna ‘s arms, drawing a bit of blood. The pain that sukuna was suppose to be feeling was replaced with ecstasy and the desire for more. MORE pain, MORE pleasure.

“Ready?” Sukuna asked, but didn’t wait for y/n ‘s response. Sukuna slid y/n up one last time before delivering a powerful thrust into his hole. Y/n cried out, tears forming in his eyes from the thrust of sukuna ‘s hips.

Ryomen continued to deliver harsh and heavy thrusts into y/n ‘s already recked hole, y/n begged for sukuna to stop, but he was already too far gone in pleasure to be able to hear y/n ‘s pleads.

Y/n felt the many veins that drove along sukuna ‘s long and hard cocks, the veins were enough to drive y/n insane as they rubbed against the tight and gummy walls of his insides.

Sukuna ‘s cocks twitched, signaling that he was close to his release. Y/n sobbed as he realized that he would be downgraded to nothing but a cumslut and a cocksleeve for a curse that was way more stronger than him in every way.

“Take my kids into that precious hole of yours slut, maybe then you could actually gain a purpose for something” y/n knew what “purpose” he would gain, he would become a mother to children he could not bare.

With a couple more thrusts, y/n felt sukuna ‘s cocks unload their last gallon of cum into his once pure hole.

Sukuna breathed heavily, trying to catch an ounce of fresh air in the steamy and hot ecosystem him and his new slut had made.

“Consider yourself lucky I didn’t kill you, but now, you must work for me, you’ll worship me and my existence altogether, your nothing without me, your only purpose for me is to be a hole I can put my two cocks in and bare my kids in that stomach of yours” sukuna whispered delicately into y/n ‘s ear. Causing the poor man to shiver and shakily nod.

“Uraume, mind cleaning me and my new toy?”

[dovedrangeas]

i think i am going to paint my nails green and silver next time i polish them

[frudoo]

A non Zombie apocalypse 141 poly

They find another survivor looking for supplies and decide to make her their wife.

I went a lil crazy on this one ngl

Warnings: Non-con/dub-con but nothing sexual. Fem!Reader.

It was that colossal motherfucker you saw first—the one you almost wasted an arrow on because of that creepy skull mask he wore. The big bastard was raiding your shelter, a little storage room in what used to be a department store. Believe it or not, the mannequins you placed outside of your hideout were enough to deter the zombies away, so you had a pretty good thing going. That was before this dumb brute decided to ruin all your hard work and steal your canned goods.

     Your plan was to shoo him away and tell him to piss off, but he wasn’t having it. No, instead, he made you carry your own supplies back to his shelter, where there were three other men to feed. Fuck, you had enough food to last yourself about three months, but now, with these giant men who no doubt have massive appetites? You’re lucky if it’ll last a week. 

     You’re sitting on a raggedy couch between the pretty man with the ball cap and another with a stupid overgrown mohawk now, arms crossed with a foul look on your face. Across from you sits the fucker with the skull mask, and beside him in an ancient recliner is a bearded man wearing a weird hat. Every now and then you let out an annoyed huff, earning yourself a pointed stare from each of them.

     “Are ye gonna eat summat, or jus’ pout like a wee baby?” Mohawk Man asks you through a mouthful of lukewarm spaghetti hoops. 

     You flip him off without even looking at him, earning a few snickers from the other men. If you weren’t so pissed off at all of them, you might have allowed yourself a little smirk. In fact, you feel the beginning of one curling at the corner of your mouth, until Ball Cap™ pulls you into his lap and traps you there with his strong arms. You yelp and try to shimmy out of his grasp to no avail. You go to bite him, but the second your mouth opens, a spoonful of beans gets plopped inside.

     “Swallow,” Skull Guy commands, covering your mouth with one wide palm in case you decide to try and spit it out.

     You glare at him the entire time, but still obey his explicit order because you truly are hungry. You give up on trying to escape the pretty man’s grasp, letting your body go limp. It’s probably wise to save your energy, anyway.

     “Good bird,” he praises mockingly. “Now, since you’re through bein’ a brat, I’ll introduce everyone. 

     “M’Simon. Tha’ there,” he points at the one with the mutton chops, “is John, or Cap’n, dependin’ on his mood. Beside you’s Johnny, but we call him Soap. The one you’re sittin’ on is Kyle. We call him Gaz when he’s bein’ a dick, though.” 

     You nod like you’re paying attention, using his distraction as an opportunity to steal the can of beans from his hand. It’s a weird group, for sure, but aside from the fact that they’re thieving bastards, it might be nice to have more humans to help protect you from the hoards of the undead. It’s a step up from mannequins, anyway. Perhaps it also helps that they’re all insanely attractive.

     “Wha’ aboot ye, hen? Go’ a name?” Mohawk Man—or, Johnny, apparently—asks with a cheeky grin. 

     Before you get the chance to tell him your name, the one with the mutton chops, John, interrupts you. 

     “No matter, is it? We’ll call her our wife soon enough.”

     You nearly drop the can of beans when you process the words that just came out of his mouth, choking on the bite you just took. Kyle pats your back until your little coughing fit ceases, and Simon wipes the sticky residue from your mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie. None of them, you observe, are as baffled by John’s statement as you are. It makes a weird feeling churn in your gut.

     “A-all… all of you?” You stammer nervously, then start again with a lilt of confusion in your voice. “Wife?!”

     “Yes, dove, all of us,” Kyle confirms, confiscating the can of beans from you and setting it on the ground. 

     “Aw, don’t look so scared, sweetheart,” John stands from his place in the old recliner, stepping in front of you and lifting your head up to look at him with his pointer finger hooked beneath your chin.

     “I take good care o’my men. We’ll take good care o’you, too.”

[jmdbjk]

Well...

I've always harped on their "chemistry" and its no exaggeration. They fit together so naturally. They are so very in tune with each other, when you are with that person and you feel like everything is right and it doesn't matter what you are doing, where you are going or if you are doing anything or nothing at all.

This episode was completely different than any of the previous episodes.

By the end of November they both knew what was going to happen and embracing the idea that they were about to "go in" and they were doing this together. They flat out said they were making memories to take with them while they served their military obligation.

Jimin and Jungkook clearly see themselves as just ordinary people living extraordinary lives, and they want to and expect to experience ordinary things.

The convenience store visit.

They ran like kids sliding on the ice, stomped in the snow, threw snowballs at each other, even though occasionally, Jimin's pragmatism burst their cozy little bubble:

Jungkook: "When it snows during our military service I think I'll recall this moment."

Jimin: "Right now, we're watching the snow from a hotel window but soon we'll have to sweep it up."

Ever the romantic, that Jimin...

Walking on the street with the general public, getting coffee, making their way to the train station... just like everyone else...

Yes, they had a crew with them, leading them and following them through the streets of Sapporo. But everything they did was ordinary.

When they are ordering food or drinks, their attempts at reading and speaking Japanese are endearing. They just dove right in. I love them. See? Don't let language be an obstacle when traveling in a foreign country!

I don't know if that's his personal little round furry money purse or if the staff used that for this trip's spending money and just handed it to him... but it was cute as fuck.

There is nothing pretentious about them. Yes they can whip out the black card to pay for expensive whisky but Jungkook took pleasure in choosing what he wanted himself, carrying his armload of 18 year old whisky to the counter and paying the $4000 for it himself at the distillery. He could have had someone else do it for him.

We saw these purchases in his refrigerator during his live on Dec. 8:

As ordinary as it was, there were still some very WTF moments that everyone has already pointed out:

That moment from the car ride on the way from the airport to the hotel at 11 o'clock at night, no seatbelts, Jimin practically sitting in Jungkook's lap and both smushed against the door. Jungkook looking like he is about to get lucky or just did.... man, I don't know what that was all about and how it stayed in this episode instead of getting edited out. I mean... there is a cut so we are not seeing the entire thing but what they left in was... ok?... I guess?

The train ride sequence (even though it was highly manipulated in post-production to wipe out all the other people)...

That culminates in this... we hope it ends up being a selca in the photobook. The moment was so sweet.

At the distillery, cosplaying their pickup lines at a bar...

Jimin's moment of clarity when he envisioned himself a girl dad and Jungkook thinking "uhhhhh... ok, Jimin, whatever you say"...

Gotta say though, Jimin envisioning himself a father at some point in the future was very sweet.

They reminisced a lot, talking about how much they and the other members have changed over the years and still remarking to each other how young they both look when back outside in the cold air, cheeks flushed from whisky and beer and a hot meal.

Their point of view regarding their looks, "they enjoy watching us gradually get raggedy and fat."

Yet, their age difference is exactly what makes them click. Jimin being older, caring, watchful, responsible in the early years, and Jungkook, so young, still socially awkward, always watching Jimin, always sticking close by him, learning how to maneuver the situations they faced in their profession. Through the years they evolved and matured personally and professionally into the men they are today.

If they had been same-agers, the outcome may not have been the same.

Again, props to the staff for everything they did to make this happen for Jimin and Jungkook. It appeared that some of the time they remained outside in the cold while Jimin and Jungkook were indoors eating or getting coffee.

This trip was their final trip before that "rite of passage" that every Korean male is obligated to fulfill. There was a poignant edge to a lot of this episode, in what they talked about, in the imagery. Jimin has always seemed to want to hang on to his "youth" and now he was about to cross that line and he knew it.

I also keep harping on the fact Jimin and Jungkook are together as we speak and I am thankful for that every day. I firmly believe they are thankful for each other, even if they are not same age friends.

Two more episodes.

[silentium-symphony]

It Can Wait (Link x Reader)

(a/n) sorry it took awhile! college is starting to pick up and senioritis is hitting like a truck. while i drown in various marine labs (not the fun ones with seals and dolphins, the scary ones that feature Excel and R), please enjoy this completely self-indulgent fic LOL

cw: how can i call myself a fanfic writer if i don't do the One Bed™ trope ;), some swearing, ya'll are just a pair of awkward lovestruck goobers, honestly just pure fluff :)

wc: 5.3k

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

You watched the edge of the sun rake the tip of some far-off mountain, dipping lower and lower past the horizon; your heart followed the celestial body in its descent to darkness. Concern loomed over your head like a thick thundercloud and your bleary eyes focused on your companion's sun-washed back.

"Hey... Link?"

The tips of his oranged ears twitched and he cast an indifferent glance past his shoulder.

"Do you see anything up ahead? A town or a stable, maybe?"

Link threw his gaze forward and 'hmph-ed,' jabbing his pointer finger to a bundle of dots precariously painted on the horizon. Your feet fluttered at the sight of civilization, momentarily forgetting the pins and needles that have been poking your legs and lower back for the past three hours.

"Oh thank Hylia--a town!"

Link had never seen you move so fast--he had to catch up with you! He lightly jogged to cover the distance.

"Slow down," he called out, voice barely louder than the winds, "you're not gonna make it at that pace."

"But Liiiink..." You whined. "A town! Civilization! Possibly with an inn! And beds!"

Not a moment later you felt your hand snatched in his as he practically dragged the two of you through the plains, exhaustion and aches be damned.

“L-Link! By the gods, slow down! You’re scuffing my boots!”

“Bed.”

“Link!!!”

You dove and ducked your head under whizzing branches, fumbled over a small brook, and ran what felt like an eternity before the rusted iron gates came into view. You were heaving at this point, each raggedy breath caught in the edges of your swollen lungs. Your stamina-for-days friend also seemed a bit spent, but he pushed onward and paid little mind to the blood rushing through his temples.

You practically collapsed at the gate, tumbling onto all fours and dry-heaving your next breath. Link, noticeably shaking, placed a trembling hand on the wall as he, too, fought to breathe. Hylia, he hadn’t run like that in years—even if he were the Hero of Hyrule™.

“Don’t,” you spat out in between heaves. “Ever do that again.”

“But we… made it… before they locked the gates.” Link was in much better shape than you (which wasn’t saying much) as he pointed to the town guards lowering the metal gates with a resounding clang.

A groan, a shuffle, followed by relief as you felt the wall’s cool stone ease the sweat and heat off your back. You threw your head up and took as deep of a breath as you could, dizzy from the bursts and sparks of colors behind your eyelids. You felt something hard slip into your laps and you winced your eyes open. A canteen?

“Drink some water.” Link’s lips were already moistened with the aqua panacea. You looked up at him gratefully and happily lapped up the rest of its contents, noting to fill his bottle later. The crisp spring water brought much-needed relief to the desert your throat had become; Link slipped the empty canteen into his pouch and looked around for the—

“What… Is that?”

You followed Link’s finger up and up and up to some… Structure? Spire? Shooting into the windows of an equally tall building. Your eyes bounced between the rickety invention and the bewildered blues of your companion, totally lost.

Only one way to find out.

After you got your bearings, you and Link slowly made your way over to the building, which happened to be… the inn? The structure grew clearer in your vision, but you still couldn’t make heads or tails of it. The main piece looked like a bunch of bamboo glued together by the ends, with some tubes sticking off to the side and into several rooms. The tail disappeared into the murky depths of a hot spring—HOT SPRING????

Link must have realized the godly pools the same time you did, his head whipping around to meet your excited gaze. You both slipped through the door and were immediately encased in a scent of steam and aromatics. It was as if the very essence of the hot spring was embedded in the inn's walls.

“Welcome, welcome! How can I— L-Link?!”

Link shot at the sound of his own name, looking over to the innkeeper who seemed… starstruck?

“I-It’s really you, sir! Wow, I… Wow!”

“I’m sorry but… Do we know you?” You chimed from the back.

“Oh! Um, I’m so terribly sorry. You may not remember me Link, but I remember you! This young man here has saved my life!”

“He did?”

“I have?”

“Yes! Do you not remember the weary traveler with the twisted ankle at the bottom of a ditch?" Link, in fact, did not remember. "That was me, sir! You took the time to tend my injuries and dropped me off right here in this very town!”

He bowed deeply, the little patch of hair on his head dipping with him.

“I’ve always wanted to thank you for your kindness, sir. Without you, I wouldn’t have realized my dreams of running a world-renowned inn!”

‘World-renowned?’

“It is by the grace of Hylia we meet again. For you only, I am offering you our premium room for the price of a regular one!”

Link’s ears twitched, no doubt in celebration of this seemingly once-in-a-lifetime deal. He turned to you, eager eyes bulging out of his head, and your laugh was all the okay he needed. He pulled out his wallet and paid for the night.

“What makes this room so special?” You interrupted before the innkeeper could grub the last rupee.

“I’m so glad you asked! Surely you have seen that tower outside our fine establishment, yes?”

You nodded slowly.

“With a lil’ bit of magic and Hylian ingenuity, we have devised a way to jet water from the hot springs straight to your room! Our premium rooms showcase the magic firsthand in the form of, what we call, a shower!”

“A… Shower?”

“Yes! You’ll see very soon, it is a wonderful addition to any room. We’ve really struck gold with this one…” He mumbled towards the end, not fully realizing he said it aloud. “Please, allow me to show you to your rooms!”

You two followed the short, stocky innkeeper up a few flights of stairs and down winding hallways. He stopped at the door to your room and plopped a golden key into Link’s hand.

“This is your room! Have fun with the shower, lovebirds!”

The innkeeper winked; a pair of mouths gaped open in heated protest, but he had already rounded the corner and returned to his innkeeper duties. A frazzled look sparked between two wide eyes and Link gulped, looking away to turn the key.

With a click, twist, and push, you were greeted by a grand bed spread across the middle of the room, dwarfing the moderately sized bookshelf packed with books and knickknacks. To your right was a gorgeous mahogany round table with matching chairs, a scene of woodland festivity carved about the curve of the surface. A wicket basket full of all kinds of goodies sat neatly atop the bed’s luscious sheets, vying for attention.

Like children in a candy store, you both fumbled right in and immediately made yourselves at home, kicking off your dirty and scuffed boots at the door ⁽ᵃ ˢᵐᵃˡˡ ᵍˡᵃʳᵉ⁾ and slugging your bag onto the round table. The silky sheets were practically calling your name, but the layer of sweat and grime accumulated on your skin made you hesitate to tarnish the clean bed.

The singular clean bed.

Your heart lurched to your throat and you immediately threw a hesitant look at Link, who was going through the gift basket and humming happily. He must not have noticed. He finally turned to you with a bright smile, spoils of the room in hand, and his features immediately fell at your concerned look.

“Is everything all right?”

“There’s only one bed.”

“What? No there isn’t, there’s…” He glanced around the room, his lazed looks turning into frenzied glimpses. Link’s cheeks darkened to a hue similar to the deep red bedsheet.

“Oh.”

"W-Well, it's not that big of a deal..." You two have clawed your way out of the deepest pits of suffering together, surely you could handle one measly lil' night in a spacious bed. In a bid to calm your racing thoughts, your head lolled to the side and frantically searched the rest of the room; an inconspicuous door caught your attention. Two weary bodies crept towards the door, giddy with anticipation.

A room adorned with all the regular happenings of a bathroom filled your vision, but off to the corner was a... long, rectangular, glass box? With a spout carved into the wall? As you neared the contraption, still unsure of what to think of it, a golden gear caught your eye, as well as various sprigs and bunches of mint and lavender. The gear turned with a squeak, and steamed water poured forth in a steady stream. A holler left you and Link as you watched the technological marvel steam up the room. You squeaked the faucet close and turned to the man behind you.

"So who's gonna go first?"

"You can," he stepped out, "I need to stop by the market before it closes."

“What? Are you sure?”

He nodded; you waved goodbye to the blonde as he slipped on his boots, tucked his wallet in his pocket, and left. While his footsteps disappeared down the hall, you slipped out of your grimy clothes, fetched fresh ones from your sack, and waltzed into the shower.

With a quick turn of your wrist, bullets of warm water pelleted all the sore aches knotting your back and shoulders. You let out an audible groan, slinking against the heavenly sensation. The steam coddled the mint and lavender, drawing out the former’s nippy spice before dulling it with the latter’s soothing fragrance. Nature’s finest aromas settled onto your skin and snuggled into your hair. All the cool streams and frigid lakes you’ve been forced to skinny dip in for the past several weeks melted into a distant memory as the heavy fog clouded your thoughts.

But not your sense of awareness.

You poked your head out of the shower, straining your ears for some type of sign that Link had returned. There was stillness on the other side of the door; a relieved sigh slipped out of you.

You felt your throat strain a tad, disuse rusting your vocal cords, as a melody you had since forgotten until this moment clawed its way out of you. A long inhale filled your lungs with scented steam and growing bravado as your quiet, cautious mumbles turned into full-on melodies. You checked every now and then, gear turning slightly to slow and quiet the flow, but the unclicking door assured you were still alone.

And hey, so long as you were quieter than the jetting water, it should be all good… right?

And so you sang your heart out, your rationale loosening your tongue and diaphragm to fill the bathroom with your beautiful voice. You sang a bunch of tunes, from hype music to mournful, soulful ballads. You were performer and audience all bundled in a steamy, mint-kissed, lavender-lapped, package.

If the vapor plumes tickling your ankles were any testament to how long you’d been there, you’d have to admit that your simple shower had turned into a luxurious escape from the cold confines of reality. The last note you sang rolled into a sigh as you turned the gear, the barrage of water turning into a mere trickle. Your reddened body longed to feel the water's hot caresses, but alas, you had to leave your watery sanctuary at some point. Pruny fingers grasped the soft cotton hanging off a hook and you scrunched your hair of excess water before patting yourself down.

You had never felt so clean in your life.

Your warmed pajamas did wonders for your already relaxed muscles and a yawn lapsed out of you. You drowsily clicked the door open, a cloud of steam rolling at your feet, and smiled dreamily at...

Link.

Who was looking rather... flustered.

And amused.

Your heart dropped to the soles of your feet as a cold sweat beaded your brow, a dark realization settling in. Feigning innocence as best you could, you tilted your head.

“… What?”

He stood up from his chair, tossing his locks from side-to-side, and sauntered over to you with his pajamas bundled in the crook of his elbow. As he passed you by, the ghost of a whisper tickled the shell of your ear.

“Nice voice.”

Dear Hylia if you’ve ever loved me strike me down right fucking now

You turned to him, mouth agape and heart reeling, only for his outline to disappear behind a wall of hot mist and wood. The silence on your side of the room was suffocating; Link’s happy little hums funneled the tension out of the situation through the thinnest straw that ever strawed.

Maybe you misheard him? It wasn't like he was much of the teasing type... How long had he been here anyway? Maybe he just walked in as you finished and and and and happened to hear the faucet turn and maybe just maybe it sounded a bit like a squeak that could maybe pass off as a person's voice?

The bracing breeze of the night nipped your sensitive skin and calmed your overstimulated brain. You didn’t remember your journey to the window, but you were thankful your feet had guided you to a refreshing anchor for your frenzied thoughts. You took a deep breath in… and out. Innnn… and out…

This wasn’t so bad. Okay granted, you completely embarrassed yourself in front of your crush whom you’ll be traveling with for the foreseeable future but it’s not all that bad. At least you got this gorgeous view! And wow, birds! Nature! That’s cool!

After several minutes of trying to keep your dooming thoughts at bay, the faucet squeaked a dying note and the last deluge of water dripped into soft drops. Link—still humming and noticeably more at ease—shuffled a fair bit before he made his entrance into the bedroom, hair damp and skin blushed a faint pink and wow he looks so good right now—

You damn near slapped yourself and flashed him a warm (albeit awkward) smile, noting his very shirtless form and the pajamas still scrunched in his arms. He motioned to the parts of the fabric that were darker than usual.

“It fell in a puddle, so I’m letting it air out a bit.” With a whip of his wrists, a worn shirt and matching shorts snapped in front of him and settled on top of a chair. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

Knowing that the towel tied around his slutty lil waist was the only thing separating you from a great night got you feeling weak. You hastily turned your gaze to the outside before your blatant staring could turn into gawking.

A silence eclipsed the room as your eyes wandered over the town’s nightlife. Specks of Hylians dotted the dimly lit square; further below, a decently-sized crowd congregated the hot springs, traces of idle chatter floating to your ears. The stars poked an indifferent glow past the cloudy streaks in the sky and although the lunar body had yet to grace you with its presence, its soft light was still felt and appreciated by all.

You felt the air beside you stir and a loud gasp escaped you, jolting at the sudden appearance of the still-shirtless man. He rested his frame against folded arms as he peered off into the night, aestheticizing like you were only moments before. His skin had paled into its familiar alabaster, and the whitish glow of the moon circled a halo about his figure. The familiar sprigs of aromatics tickled your nose, tinging his cypress and amber scent with a fragrance of cleanliness.

“Lovely night.”

“Y-Yes.” You coughed out, still unused to the proximity. Gods, if he already got you acting up like this, how much more during bedtime?

“Did you find everything we needed?” You continued, hoping to make some light conversation about nothing.

“Yes. We’re all stocked up.” A flit of blue met your (E/C)s. “We leave at dawn, so we should head to bed soon.”

"Ah... Are your clothes dry now?"

"Hopefully my shorts are."

Link went to collect his clothes and 'tsk-ed' at the still-damp shirt. His scarred hands ghosted the knot tied right above his pelvis. He eyed your back as he discarded the plush white towel for his shorts, the fabric thinning and pilling from overuse.

"Are you decent?" Your tone lilted mirthfully. You heard fabric creasing and shifting from the bed, and you turned in response to his quiet ‘mm.’ Your core warmed at the sight of a toned, combat-kissed back and you mentally flogged yourself for your ridiculous bashfulness. With your heart pounding a quickening pace in your ears, you sallied over to your edge of the bed and sunk down.

The air was honeyed with sexual tension and you pawed and balled the silky sheets. Link’s heavy gaze rested on the same spot on the wall, fully expecting two holes to drill themselves into existence under his scrutinizing watch.

Why were you so panicked? This wasn’t the first time you found yourselves in rather... intimate situations.

A sudden movement made you flinch and you craned your neck to see behind you. With a long sigh, Link ruffled his hair and blew out a candle, muffling a ‘goodnight’ under his breath. The same silence blanketed you again, suffocating coherency out of your racing thoughts.

You pulled your knees over the edge and adjusted yourself under the covers, relieved at the plush mattress coddling the sore gaps in your body. Your head fell to the side and was once again met with Link's back (that was scooted to the very edge of the bed). You didn’t know if you should feel offended or grateful.

You followed suit, turning your body to meet the window. The moonlight was brighter now, casting a gentle spotlight on the floating dust particulates and water specks that traipsed through the window.

Your ears strained to hear and hope for the familiar deep breaths Link drew in the throes of slumber. The deathly quiet was all the sign you needed to know that he was still very much awake (and listening for your soft snores as well).

The soft sheets and the heat radiating off your partner beckoned you further into bed and away from the cold night air that had begun to blow drizzles of rain. Get your rupees’ worth, you told yourself. A tiny voice unfamiliar to you peeped out a,

“Hey… Link?”

He twitched.

“Um… I’m scooting closer, just so you know.”

He doesn’t respond. Or move. Or breathe. While you debated whether he was fast asleep or crossing a boundary, you heard a quiet sigh and a,

“Me too.”

A pair of bodies shuffled closer. His heat spilled past his body and bled into your vicinity; you held back a pleased groan. You shared many a night shivering under the cold misery of wilderness and rain, pressing into each other to preserve what little heat was left between yourselves. Your eyes fluttered shut as the rain outside tapped the roof harder and harder.

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

“Link…” You looked up at him, teeth chattering as he beheld you with a warm gaze. He tugged the corners of the cloak closer together while your shaking hands combed matted gold off his forehead.

“Are you warm?”

“As warm as I can be.” Eyes studied your makeshift shelter—a tree’s grove—helplessly. Your wet back was pressed into mossed and ivied bark while your companion’s was bulleted and blown by the storm’s raging tempest. You pulled his shaking body closer, closer, closer, until he was practically on top of you. Still, the winds whipped something nasty against his soaked back, his drenched shirt adding to the frigidity like some sort of reverse blanket.

“I-I don’t know how, but we can try switching…” You hissed through clammy lips. He shook his head, a stray droplet landing and sliding down your cheek.

“Nonsense. You are much colder than I am.”

“Link, you’re literally shaking.”

“And your lips have turned blue.” He pulled the hood further down your face, obscuring your vision, as he took your hands in his and futilely huffed warm air. His leather gloves rubbed and chafed your pruned, muddy digits and he blew again with greater gusto.

“You’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. This rain has got to let up at some point.” He murmured, his hot breath tickling your neck. You shivered from the sensation, which he mistook as the cold seeping into your bones. Muscled arms wrapped around your frame and he rubbed your sides, head burying into the crook of your neck.

“We’ll be okay… Just think of something warm, all right?

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

The warmth of his skin seeped through your thin pajamas and you let out a yelp.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t realize I was rolling into you!”

“It’s okay,” a pause, “you can… Stay there if you’d like. I don’t mind.”

“Oh… Are you sure?”

He hums. “…warm…”

“Sorry? Did you say something?”

“You’re warm, so it… feels nice.”

“Oh...” Your heart thundered against your ribcage. “T-Thanks.”

Quietness cloaked the room once again; neither of you were going to sleep any time soon.

“So uh,” you started, “what are you gonna do when you get back?”

He was silent for awhile, and for a second you thought he had fallen asleep (wouldn’t be the first time he fell asleep mid conversation).

“Report our findings to the princess.”

“Ah… makes sense. How ‘bout after that?”

The male pondered your question and answered with a huff.

“Wait for my next mission.”

That’s… kinda sad..

“Well, is there anyone waiting for you? Y’know, like a…” You gulped, unsure if you wanted to know the answer. “Like a lover or something?”

You felt Link’s breath hitch and your heart sank. Of course he would have someone waiting for him, just look at him. Handsome, chivalrous, kind, strong—you wouldn’t be surprised if he had a thing going on with the princess herself.

“No.” He said at last. “I don’t have anyone in that regard.”

He said it so placidly; you couldn’t detect a hint of emotion behind that matter-of-fact statement. An inconspicuous sigh left your frame.

"Oooh, has anyone caught your eye?" You shimmied up to him before laughing at his flinch. Again, you were unsure if you were ready to hear the answer, but anything felt better than the silence you would otherwise be subjected to.

"Mm..." Was his only response.

"Aww, c'mon! Aren't we travel buddies? We've faced dozens of unimaginable horrors together. Your secret's safe with me."

"Do you have someone waiting for you?" He countered.

"Hey now, don't avoid the question!"

"I'll tell you if you tell me."

Well... It's not like you had anything to hide...

"No, I'm very much single." You laughed, a glimmer of despondence streaking your voice.

. . .

"Has anyone caught your eye?"

"Mm... Pass." You giggled, turning to face him fully now. He felt your shuffle and cast a glance over his shoulder. "Do you like anyone? Or at least find mildly attractive?"

His eyes fluttered shut and he exhaled slowly, the gears in his head turning even slower.

"Yes."

Your sinking heart juxtaposed the overly-hyped "Ooooh!" that left your lips.

"IS IT THE PRINCESS?!"

"Definitely not."

You practically got whiplash at the suddenness of his response; that could mean one of two things: he either really liked the princess, or he wanted nothing to do with her past their 'protector-protectee' relationship.

"Damn, that was fast. Seems mighty suspicious to me..." You nudged the space between his ribcage, plucking a light chuckle out of him.

"I really don't," he laughed dryly, "she's lovely but... Not really my type."

"So what is your type, O Hero of Hyrule?"

He hummed lowly before snapping his body to face you.

"My turn." He chirped through a boyish grin. His hot breath trickled across your cheeks and you swore you could drown in the oceans of his eyes.

"Has anyone caught your eye?"

You didn't think the question could be taken so literally. You blinked multiple times and looked away.

"Uh... Y-Yeah, I'd say so."

An iota of emotion brewed in his eyes, imperceptible to everyone but himself.

"Okay, my turn." You chortled, looking back up at him. "Can you describe your ideal partner?"

Eyes closing and head tilting upwards, Link dissected and analyzed the simple question with care.

"Smart, kind..." A small smile tugged his lips. "Curious, compassionate, brave, selfless..."

He angled his face into the pillow, the softness muffling his lips.

"ᵍᵒᵒᵈᵃᵗˢᶦⁿᵍᶦⁿᵍ"

"Sorry, what?"

"Nothing. So wha--"

"Nonono, you said something! What did you say?"

"Um... Good at..." A pause. "Mingling."

"... Mingling?"

. . .

"Yup."

Maybe facing Ganon with only a cheese grater wasn't such a bad idea after all

You supposed... That made sense. You could only imagine how awkward he must feel at royal banquets and dinner parties. You laughed and lightly flicked his forehead.

"You're such a dork." If you squinted hard enough, you could trick yourself into believing he was blushing. His eyes brightened at the realization it was his turn.

"So who's your ideal partner?"

"Well..." You looked down, fumbling with the hem of your shirt.

"Well...?" His chest rumbled with baited anticipation.

"Loyal, caring, respectful, courageous..." You nudged the lower half of your face into your pillow, hoping to hide the blush creeping onto your cheeks. "Something like that."

He nodded slowly, the gears in his head slaving away--at what, you had no idea.

"You seem to have a pretty clear idea of what you're looking for."

"So do you!"

"Yes..." He sighed dreamily, lips warming into a rare and genuine smile. "I do."

;)

"Heheheh... Whatcha thinkin' about? Or should I say... Who?"

Panic swirled behind his eyes. "N-No one."

"I heard that stutter!" You exclaimed. "C'mon, we've practically spilled everything to each other--now all I need is a name!"

"You... may not approve."

Your heart crunched in your chest, mind spinning from all the possibilities.

"I mean... Whether I like them or not shouldn't matter. Your feelings for that person, whoever they may be, are valid."

The way your eyes crinkled so... lovingly at him made him want to curl into a ball and melt into a lovestruck puddle. How could you be this cute? This sweet? And single? Maybe... Just maybe...

"You really think so?"

"Of course! Well, if you had a crush on Ganon then we might have a problem." Your lips relaxed into a small smile. "But so long as they aren't him, I don't think there's anyone out there who I would hate."

Link balanced his chin between his pointer and thumb. Your lips curled thoughtfully, forming your next question in a bid to loosen his tongue.

"When you think of them, do you think of what could be? Where life could take the two of you?"

"Of course." He answered instantly, then reddened at how quick he responded. "I've thought about it for... awhile."

His bashfulness was met with one of your angelic chortles and you looked at him head-on.

"You deserve to be happy, Link. You deserve to live the life you want with the person you love."

His breath caught in his throat as he drank in the sincerity in your eyes. Eyes that beheld him with grace and acceptance for all his failures and shortcomings. Eyes that saw him past his title of Hero. Eyes that could lift an entire kingdom's burden off his shoulders with a simple crinkle and twinkle.

"It's you."

You laughed, not quite processing what he said until--

"Wait, huh?"

"It's..." He gulped, reminding himself which piece of the Triforce he carried. "You."

"M-... Me?"

"Yes. You are who I love. You are who I want to spend the rest of my life with. It's... you."

"Oh, Link..." His heart cracked at the quietness in your tone. For once, it hurt hearing his name leave your lips.

"If you don't feel the same way, I understand. I promise I won't let this interfere with our mi--"

"No, Link! I love you too!"

Life filled his eyes, piercing a ray of light through his darkened visage.

"You... You do...?"

"Yes!" You cried out, wrapping him closer to you. "Gods, I've loved you for so long...!"

"R-Really? Me too!”

:O

“Since when?!” You both exclaimed, new love jolting a shock of energy that mismatched the time of day.

“You go first.” Link spurred, giddiness rocking him to and fro.

“Ever since that night in the tree… Do you remember? It was pouring and you were shielding me from the storm.”

He pulled away from you slightly to stroke your hair, relishing how your soft, newly washed strands laced around his fingers.

“We had just embarked on our journey.”

“I knowww.” You drew out, giggling and nuzzling into his bare chest. “What about you? When did you fall for me?”

“It was… Before our trip.”

“What?! Really?!”

He nodded.

“I saw you feeding some strays while I was patrolling the castle one time and, well…” He rubbed his neck embarrassed. “I knew you had a heart of gold the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“That was so long ago…" You reminisced about the glowing gaze your animal friends reveled you in. "Boy, I had you whipped for that long, huh?”

“You could say that.” An airy breath stuttered out of him. “You looked so beautiful… I couldn’t get enough of that look in your eyes. Pure, selfless joy. It was… mesmerizing.”

His eyes caught yours, almost as if they were searching for the same joy he spoke of. The glimmer in his seafoam pools must have meant he found it and more.

“So how’d you feel when we were assigned to this mission together?” You laughed, clearly picturing a flustered Link pacing around his room as he just about melted through the floor.

“I felt many things—panic, for one.”

“Aww, lil' ol' me got your heart racing?”

“Yes.”

Now it was your heart’s turn to race, so touched by his candor.

"You were as beautiful as you were kind; as clever as you were tough. How could I have not fallen deeper in love?" He coughed out, a hand masking the blush that promenaded his cheeks. "You always took such good care of me after our battles... Patching me up before you even wiped the dirt off your face."

"Well, you'd do it for me, no?" You jibed, fingers raking through his hair. He chuckled fondly at the form of aftercare foreign to most couples.

"And to top it all off..." He leaned down, the surface of his lips tickling your earlobe. "You have the loveliest voice in the world."

A light slap stung his chest and he roared in laughter.

"Gods, you really heard that...?!" Your hands cupped your heated cheeks and you rocked backward, jaw clenching and legs squirming from mortification.

"It's okay! More than okay! You sounded gorgeous, (F/N)."

Your heart fluttered at the sound of your own name, unused to the way it purred so perfectly out of him. Your sheepish side glance happened upon his heartfelt visage, which did wonders to ease any discomforts you had.

"Your voice was beautiful. Like a-- Like a--"

A chorus of chirps announced the arrival of morning; you both shared a horror-struck look before shortly bursting into laughter. You talked the whole night away!

He kissed your eyelids and draped the blanket over your shoulders, wrapping his arm about your waist.

"We can stay another night if you'd like. Spend a day in town." His suggestion was met with fervent nodding. "Our duties to the throne... Our mission... All of it. It can wait."

[happy-hermit]

HELLO HELLO EVERYONE :D

This is a fic for an AU where young teenager TCD Scar comes through Grian's rift :) It's a trauma reveal folks <33

Enjoy!!

===================================

Grian was beginning to believe that the rift had some form of sentience, given that at times it appeared to become quite… temperamental. Some days it would be almost eerily still and slow. Others it would— Well, it would do what it was currently doing. 

The rift was swirling with more shades of purple than usual, dark patches appearing and disappearing with alarming frequency. There was an electricity in the air that made the hair on his arms stick up, and Grian had the strange feeling in his stomach that the thing was emitting some sort of sound that was too low or high for human ears. It felt a bit like a thunderstorm. 

Grian had set up shop immediately upon noticing something was different, resorting to sitting in a chair staring at the Rift waiting on it to do something. It was horrifically tedious. Grumbot — in true Grumbot fashion — was refusing to give him a straight answer. Grian was beginning to suspect that he simply didn’t have one. 

So he waited. With several cups of coffee and messy notes strewn around him on the ground, he waited. 

He was sleeping when the whole thing really started —  because the Universe hated him personally, he was sure. 

He was already sitting up by the time he regained consciousness, heart beating in his chest, eyes wide and darting around in confusion, trying to make sense of his surroundings. It was too bright, and his vision was too blurry from sleep, and where in void’s name was that wind coming from?

The rift chose that moment to start spitting lightning at him, and Grian let out a strangled yell as he dove behind Grumbot’s messaging system, abandoning his empty coffee cups to an uncertain fate. He ducked down and shut his eyes tightly as the glow of the Rift got brighter and brighter, as the high pitched noise emitting from it got higher and higher, until finally something in the fabric of reality snapped under the strain. 

From across the room, there was a short, terrified yell, cut short by the impact of something hitting the ground, and a clatter, like the person had dropped something. There was sudden and complete silence, until it was broken by a quiet groan. Heart in his throat, Grian opened his eyes and shifted, peeking over his makeshift shield to check things out. 

The Rift was back to what he considered to be normal, glowing a serene purple, calm as anything. His notes were strewn about the room and burned at the edges. His coffee mugs were nowhere to be seen. 

On the ground was a person. They were curled up on their side, clutching at their head with gloved hands. Their clothes were ragged and torn, bandages peeking out from under them as the figure shifted slowly. And then they sat up, and their face drifted into view. 

Grian’s breath hitched, his knuckles turning white where he gripped the blocks he was hiding behind. It was a kid. He had messy brown hair, jagged and uneven, like he’d cut it himself, and a bandage creeping up the side of his face from under his chin. He had a bandana tied around his neck, mostly a faded green, except for the faint splatters of dull red. His face was gaunt and his eyes were wide and scared as he patted himself down frantically, muttering to himself. The kid couldn’t have been much older than fifteen. He did not look like someone who believed he would live for much longer. 

Grian let himself poke his head just a bit higher over the barrier, frozen in shock and confusion as his unplanned visitor started whirling around and looking at the floor. His gaze finally landed on something that Grian couldn’t quite see, and his shoulders dropped in what seemed like relief as he went to pick it up. 

Grian… didn’t know what he was expecting. A sword, maybe? No. 

The raggedy little teenager had popped through an interdimensional rift in Grian’s basement, looking like absolute hell, and he picked up a gun. 

The kid checked that it was loaded in practiced movements, almost with the grace of a soldier. It contrasted sharply with the youth of his face, and the way his shoelaces were untied and tucked into his shoes. It painted a very concerning picture. 

His visitor was just beginning to gather his bearings, hauling himself to his feet with suppressed sounds of pain. He was favoring one leg. The gun was poised at the ready in his arms. 

Never let it be said that Grian was a smart man, given what he did next. 

“You can’t have those here.”

The kid made a strangled noise of alarm as he whipped around to face where Grian now stood apart from his makeshift cover, his hands raised in what he hoped was the universal gesture for ‘I mean no harm’. And then he was staring down the barrel of a gun. It wasn’t the usual kind of chaos that happened around here, but he was going to try his best to take it in stride. What was the worst that could happen? He’d get shot? 

He’d respawn. But the kid was staring at him like he wasn’t aware of that. Like maybe he was counting on the opposite to be true. 

Grian forced himself to look past the very threatening weapon pointed at him to get a better look at the person's face, and he met his eyes. They were a striking shade of green, trained on him with pinpoint accuracy and refusing to waver. At first glance, he looked almost angry. Grian knew, though, that it was only a thinly veiled cover for the heart-stopping panic crowding in behind it. For the confusion and pain and fear. (And why could he read a stranger so well?)

“I won’t hurt you,” Grian said, calm as he could manage, wings tense behind him. “But you’ve got to put the gun down.”

“You can talk,” the kid said, quiet and shaky. Like it was surprising. Something about it made Grian’s chest squeeze. 

“Yeah, I can,” Grian said, gentler now. “So can you. Can you tell me your name?”

The gun trembled for a moment, just slightly, and then went eerily steady once more. The kid swallowed hard and glanced around for a second before locking back on to Grian. 

“You’re not… infected?” The kid asked finally. 

Grian frowned a bit in confusion, his brow furrowing and wings rustling in unease. Infected. It sounded like a word with more weight than was really warranted. Like it came with a history. 

“I’m— No, I’m healthy as a horse,” Grian said, cracking an awkward grin. “Eat my vegetables and everything.”

The kid tilted his head, just slightly, and the gun dipped just a bit more towards the ground. Or, well. Towards Grian’s stomach. 

“A horse?” The kid repeated slowly, still in that carefully quiet tone, and if Grian didn’t know any better he’d think that he didn’t know what a horse was. Maybe he didn’t. 

“Yeah, you know— sort of like cows,” Grian said, now feeling absolutely insane. He was explaining the concept of horses while held at gunpoint. “But they’ve got longer faces, I think. And you can ride them.”

The kid, if anything, seemed more confused by that, and Grian gave up on the agriculture lesson for now. 

“You don’t need that here,” Grian redirected, gesturing carefully at the gun. The kid flinched a little at his movement, and Grian softened his voice as much as he could. “You’re safe, here. It’s safe.”

It was the wrong thing to say. 

The kid's shoulders tensed even further, the gun recentering itself firmly on Grian’s forehead and those oddly familiar green eyes shuttering back into a mask of calm. Only the slight tremble of his mouth gave away his fear. He was scared. A tangle of frustration and heartbreak and helplessness coiled in Grian’s chest. 

“It’s not,” the kid said, firmly. “It’s not safe anywhere.”

Where had he come from, that he believed that?

“Look, you— You see that behind you? It’s a portal,” Grian explained, motioning to it in jerky movements. “Wherever you were, you’re not there anymore. You’re somewhere new.”

The kid shook his head, desperate eyes flickering from Grian to the Rift and quickly back again. They were shining with unshed tears, his mouth wobbling almost imperceptibly, and for a moment he looked terribly, horrifically young. Too young to be holding a gun. Too young to be scared of the world. Too young to be so convinced that it couldn’t change. That there was no more hope for things to get better. 

“But I— No. I didn’t go into any portal,” the kid said, voice raising a little, accusing. “Then how did I get here? Did— You did something.”

“No no no,” Grian said, hands raised again. “That thing has a mind of its own, I didn’t do anything. I just sat here.”

“Well I didn’t do anything, either!” The kid said, sounding slightly hysterical. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Grian said, as gentle as he could manage. His protective instincts were going haywire; he didn’t really know why. “Look, just— Weird things just happen sometimes. Trust me, I’d know.”

“Then where am I?” The kid asked, voice shaking horribly. 

“It’s called Hermitcraft,” Grian said, voice still carefully calm. “We’re in my house. Well— Under it.” He paused, hesitating, and his next question came out hushed. “Where did you come from?”

The stranger let out a shaky breath, gun unwavering and silence hanging in the still air around them. He didn’t answer. Grian could guess that it was nowhere good. 

They had run out of ways to stall the inevitable, in which the kid had two options. Shoot him or don’t. They were at a standstill. Something had to give. 

A soft noise from across the cavern interrupted Grian’s racing thoughts, and it took him a moment to place it as a muffled baa from one of the sheep in his sheep farm. It was barely anything, and yet the kid reacted as if it were a creeper beginning to explode, whirling to face the noise with wild eyes, swinging his gun in that direction. Namely, away from Grian.

Before he could think better of it, Grian rushed forwards, using his wings to propel him, and he disarmed the other before he even had the time to yell. A stray bullet shot somewhere into the ceiling in the brief struggle, loud enough that Grian knew someone would be coming round to check on it soon, and when the dust settled he was holding a gun, looking into the pale face of a terrified stranger.

“No!” The kid shouted, the loudest he’d been since he’d arrived, pushing at Grian with shaky shoves as he grappled for the gun. Grian deflected his attacks, heart sinking into his stomach as he watched the other grow increasingly frantic, breaths coming fast. “It’s mine! Give it back, it’s mine! You can’t have it, it— it’s mine. Please, please, it’s—”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Grian said, out of his depth, practically pleading. “Nothing is going to hurt you, okay? But you— you can’t hurt anyone else, either.”

The kid just shook his head, tears clinging to the corners of his eyes as he backed away, hands in trembling fists at his sides. He glared at Grian with all the fire of a hardened soldier and all the fear of a child, green eyes flashing dangerously. Something prickled at the back of Grian’s neck. Some feeling he couldn’t identify. Déjà vu, maybe.

“It’s mine,” the kid repeated, firmer and quieter. “It has my name on it.”

Grian looked down, mildly curious among the adrenaline and confusion. 

He stopped breathing. Froze completely, hands white-knuckled on the gun. His skin went cold, heart tripping over itself in his chest. 

On the gun, in capital letters, was a name. 

[ SCAR ]

A name that he knew. 

Slowly, Grian looked up, breath hitching in his throat when he met the eyes of the stranger(?), now looking a little confused himself. There was a bandage on the side of his face. Judging by the size of it, it was covering a pretty nasty wound. Likely to leave a scar.

Grian knew exactly what it would look like, when it healed.

“Scar,” Grian said, his voice sounding odd in his own ears, blank and emotionless. “Your name is Scar.”

“I named myself,” the kid — Scar — said, still shaking a little, glancing around near-constantly. 

Grian swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat, mind void of any clear thoughts.  “It’s a good name,” he said, chest aching.

“Do you have one?” Scar asked. His hands were fisted in the front of his jacket, twisting anxiously.

“A gun?” Grian asked faintly.

Scar shook his head. “A name.”

“I’m… Grian. My name is Grian.”

“Grian,” Scar repeated, nose wrinkling a little, like he thought it was odd. Scar — his Scar — had made the exact same face last week when he’d come across a problem at his park. Grian felt sick. “You’re—”

The rapidly approaching sound of fireworks cut off whatever the kid had been about to say, and he flinched like he’d been struck, turning wide eyes to the sky as he stumbled a few steps back, towards Grian’s content generator. Grian looked up as well, torn between relief and frustration. The kid had finally seemed to be calming down. 

“It’s okay,” Grian said, rushed and panicked as he held out a placating hand towards Scar. “It’s just one of my friends. They won’t hurt you.”

“Friends?” Tiny scared Scar hissed, like the very idea was ludicrous, and Grian was mildly offended.

Before he could come up with a reply, there was a call of his name from above, and Grian snapped his gaze back skyward, heartrate accelerating. 

Of course, Grian thought, watching as Scar crashed unceremoniously into the ground a few yards away. Of course it was him. Grian took a steadying breath and prepared himself. This was either the best possible option, or the worst. There was no telling where luck would have him fall, this time.

“Grian, I heard explosions!” Scar said, elytra disappearing as he straightened up from his rough landing. “Are you blowing things up without me? You know how much I—”

The builder cut himself off with a strangled noise, face falling quickly into something haunted. Almost scared. Any doubt Grian might have had about who the kid was vanished. They had the same way of being afraid. 

The way Scar was looking at the gun Grian was still holding confirmed it. He was looking at it with wide eyes and tense shoulders, breathing quick and shallow. He was looking at it with recognition.

“Where did you get that?” Scar asked, in a voice that Grian had never heard from him before, dark and small and shaking. 

Wordlessly, Grian stepped out of the way. 

And he watched as Scar locked eyes with his younger self. Just another day on Hermitcraft.

[powderblueblood]

a cat is only itself

eddie helps lacy process the death of a friend he didn't know she had. a/n: this ficlet is completely self-indulgent and an effort in processing grief. last night, i lost my young cat in a cruel and tragic accident. she would have turned 3 this week. i wanted to write something that would help me process all that happened that night and anchor my love for her. i do not know what to do with all the love i have for her, so i put some of it in here. this is for fran. i love you forever. cw: dead dove, extreme TW for pet death, animal suffering, description of animals in pain, strong language and implied driving under intoxication i guess, classic edlacy banter, angst, yearning. this takes place in that nebulous just friends part of the hellfire & ice timeline. but who knows. this is kind of flung out of time and space. no one is under any obligation to read this as i know the subject matter is heavy. it was heavy to write it. thank you if you do though. wc: 5.7k part of the hellfire & ice universe

The day she came began as unremarkably as the day she went. 

Lacy’s boots were biting her–as in, chomping at her toes, due to them being both a touch too tight (doesn’t matter, too gorgeous to leave them behind in the thrift store) and her tights being a touch too thin. An unseasonal frost was creeping in and she’d elected to walk home and not get a backache in the library chairs while she waited for Eddie and Ronnie to finish up with another bottomless Hellfire session.

Rounding her part of the trailer park, she spied movement up by the raggedy chainlink fence. It seemed as if the equally raggedy Mayfield mutt was being bothered by something. A flash of iridescent eyes in her direction and Lacy saw that it was a little black kitten, no bigger than a cantaloupe, swiping at the dog’s nose. Her little eyes locked on Lacy’s little eyes, Lacy huffing out a steamy puff of laughter. That thing was so small, yet it was putting more anxiety on that Mayfield dog than SAT prep put on Nancy Wheeler. 

A flash–the cat darted straight to her, circling and dodging around her ankles. Lacy tried to pick her head up, ignore the little bother, but, y’know. Kittens. There’s no saying no to them, especially if they’re uncharacteristically insistent. 

Cats usually have a decent sense of boundaries, which is why Lacy was shocked that this little thing dashed into her trailer ahead of her. Tail up, making a beeline straight to her bedroom. 

She hopped upon Lacy’s dinky excuse for a double bed, making a seat for herself on a cozy tartan scarf Lacy had earlier discarded when dressing for school.   

“Hey… hey. You can’t be in here!” Lacy tried her best to shoo the cat out her open window, but there’s no moving her at all. 

They spent the rest of the night just staring warily at one another, a Marianne Faithfull record spinning lowly in the background. 

The next day, Lacy found flea shampoo in Melvald’s and washed the kitten in the bathroom sink in the dead of night. The little thing squirmed, a living sudball, biting but not harsh enough to break skin. 

“Cat, don’t be a difficult child!” Lacy hissed to her, rinsing out the bubbles so her fur was clean and flea-free, “We’ll wake up Gloriana de Vil, and then she’ll have you for a coin purse. You wouldn’t like that, huh? No?" Her voice slid into babyfied territory, her usual reserve no match for this tiny creature. "No, my little thing?”

The cat, gleefully ruffled through a towel, woke up fresh and shiny the next morning in the crook behind Lacy’s knees.

And that same day, Lacy passed the junk shop on the way to the Bookstore. In the window, she spotted a little leather band with a diamante heart. Just about big enough for a collar.

Every night, the cat scratched on Lacy’s window, seemingly knowing when Gloriana’s Valium would hit and she’d be safe to snuggle in beside her new companion. In the morning, she would sit on Lacy’s dressing table to watch her get ready for school, or for work, or once, a matinee engagement at the Hawk with one Eddie Munson. They were showing Excalibur, and Eddie fucking begged. 

Lacy had picked out these dangly earrings that the cat was fascinated by, jumping on her shoulder to bite at the swinging creatures. Lacy had been so preoccupied with humoring the cat that she hadn’t even noticed Eddie watching them through her open bedroom window– but the cat did. She scarpered out upon seeing him, diving into the hollow space under the Doevski trailer’s tiny porch. 

She watched Eddie with shining green eyes, all that could be seen under the clapboard. 

“Who’s the familiar?” Eddie asked, propping the van door open for Lacy. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” came the coy reply. “Come on, we’ll miss the previews.” 

It’s not that Lacy kept the cat a secret on purpose. It’s just that… she loved what they shared. Just the two of them. She'd had so much dirty laundry aired, it was good to have something just her own.

—

The day she went begins as unremarkable as the day she came.

It’s a Saturday evening, a thick, hot greyness hanging over the sky. Lacy’s languishing in her bedroom on a rare day of doing next to nothing, because it’s too humid to even attempt. She has her window open, half expecting company but half not. Her fountain pen trails idly on the paper stock of her journal. Nothing much worth writing down when the air feels this sluggish. 

Bang, bang, bang!

Someone’s door is getting a hammering. 

Bang, bang!

Must be the Munson’s. 

Little close, though. 

She heaves herself off the carpet to go check it out, opening the door to a breathless young redhead. Max Mayfield, Hargrove’s stepsister. 

“Can I–”

“That– that little black cat, with the collar? The heart collar? She’s yours, right?”

Oh, here we go. Lacy crosses her arms, bracing for the whole, your bitch cat scratched my dog bit. “Why?”

“She just… someone hit her with a car. Up the lot.” Max breathes hard through her nose. She’d run here. That strikes lacy, the pink bloom under her freckled cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Lacy’s neck suddenly feels very stiff. “Wh–what do you mean?”

“Come on. Come with me. Will you just come with me?”

Max’s sweaty hand links with Lacy’s paper dry palm and she drags her up the lot. This is the way I go to Ronnie’s place, Lacy idly thinks as her legs struggle to keep up with Max’s. Standing around with the bound arms of grown-ups raptured by impotence are Max Mayfield’s mother, that lady Nita who does Ronnie’s hair and Carl, the grizzled trailer park manager. 

In the middle of the loose gravel and sprouting grass is the little black cat. She is on the ground, and she is gasping. Wheezing. Skinned at the side of her tiny face, teeth missing. The diamante heart she wears glitters against the loose gravel. The blood glitters against the diamante. 

“Oh. Oh. Cat.” Lacy’s voice sounds as if it’s folded up in her throat. It feels that way. She doesn’t know what to do with her limbs. She doesn’t know where to step. 

“Honey, I’m so sorry,” the Mayfield mom says.

“Some asshole just came roaring out of here, didn’t even… didn’t even stop,” Carl nods gravely.  

“Nita’s cousin is a veterinary nurse. She’s on the way,” Max tells Lacy, level-headed and soberly. She is still holding her hand. Lacy notices the rough grey dog sitting close by. She stares at him, hazy-eyed, and he whines. His head drops to his two front paws and Lacy feels lightheaded.

“He tried to help,” Max says.

She feels her knees bend but does not register her brain telling her body to get on the ground. Cat is wheezing, wheezing, a high whine in her little cat throat that nearly makes Lacy echo it. She shouldn’t be out here. Who hit her? She shouldn’t be out here, she’s probably cold. She’s probably uncomfortable. 

“Can I please take her home, please?” Lacy asks in about as level a voice as she can muster, which is not very.

“It’s best not to move her, hon. She’s very hurt.” Nita, in her bright shell suit, kneels beside her on the ground. A little speck of blood gets on the fluorescent lilac of her pant leg and Lacy’s breath shortens.

“She is… she’s very hurt,” she whispers, half-reaching for the little feline, half-recoiling, “Oh, Jesus. You’re very hurt. You’re very hurt, Cat. Poor Cat.”

Nita hugs her, which she doesn’t know how to respond to, except to stiffly thank her and vaguely gesture to her stained knee. 

Nita’s cousin arrives in a shiny blue Sedan, and they help her safely move Cat back to Lacy’s trailer. She is nestled in a towel with a faded print of Minnie Mouse on it, and they put her up on the Formica table where Lacy and her mother never meet for a meal. A quick flash of fear that her blood might stain the tabletop is soon killed by the sound that poor Cat makes. 

On the left side of her face, her beautiful green eye is reddened. 

A hard tangy smell wedges itself deep in Lacy’s nose and she doesn’t blink for a long, long time. 

Nita’s cousin, the veterinary nurse, a woman with a terrifically soothing voice who she thinks is called Stacie, checks the cat’s vitals. It’s very quickly assessed– too much damage. Spinal. Abdominal. That’s where all that blood is coming from. Paw crushed. She’s still making that terrible wheezing noise. 

Rage against the dying of the light comes to mind and Lacy wants to hit herself. Not this. Not sentiment. Not now.

Cat hangs on til the bitter end.

“How old is she?” Max asks, her voice either very quiet or very far away. Lacy cannot tell.

“I don’t– I don’t know. I don’t know.” Lacy looks to the lovely, warm-voiced woman who could be called Stacie. “How old is she?”

“She's very little. Can’t even say she’s reached her first birthday, hon.”

Lacy feels sick, and sicker, and sicker. Tunnel vision shows her nothing but the cat, once with the highest trilling meow, sputtering. 

Cat reaches her paw out to Lacy a final time, and she lets go.

Lacy tearfully exhales a noise she’s never heard herself make before, and asks everyone to please, please wait. Please. 

They wrap Cat in the tartan scarf. 

Max hovers near Lacy, her arms bound tight around her chest, as if shielding herself from the sadness seeping from the walls. 

“Do you want me t–”

“Did you see who hit her?” Lacy asks Max. A clear and loaded question; she’s asking if it was Billy. Billy and that fucking weapon of mass compensation he calls a car.

For a split second, Max looks angry at the flash accusation, even though she knows the kind of putrid her stepbrother is. But she tamps it down; she’s a better woman than Lacy is, for a middle schooler. 

“I didn’t recognize the car. Just… some fucking asshole,” Max swallows. “If I see him again, I’m putting sugar in his gas tank.”

Lacy just nods and makes some vague-mouthed attempt at a thanks for everything, Max, Stacie, Nita. Nita is hesitant to leave her alone, as is Max, but Stacie ushers them out. Leaves her number, just in case Lacy should need anything. 

Lacy spends what feels like an eternity staring at the yellowed plastic of the phone nailed to the kitchen wall. She realizes she’s got no contact for the one person she wants to call. Her hand hovers over the scarf-wrapped cat like she’s trying to cast some kind of impotent spell, and she reaches for the open smokes on the table behind her. Lacy spends what feels like eternity under the awning-covered picnic table, chain smoking and sniffing sulfur from clouds that refuse to break. 

—

The van’s lights finally flood the ground at her feet. Eddie emerges, slinging himself out of the van in that loose-limbed metal marionette way that he has. His Hellfire shirt cuts a stinging image in the dark. 

He spots her immediately, in that way that makes her sometimes think he enters spaces accidentally looking for her. 

Sometimes she does the same.

“Well, what have we got here? A little dark night of the soul with the Marlboro Ma–... Lace?”

Some sliver of moonlight cuts through the tear streaks in her makeup and stops him up short.

“Eddie,” Lacy croaks. Her throat is ashen, her eyes are ashen, her head is pounding. 

“Hey, hey…” His voice tunes right down into an immediate soothe, arms hovering around her like they aren’t quite sure how to ring around her yet. “Oh, hey, hey, what the shit? What’s the matter?”

Her throat thickens. “Oh, this is stupid.”

That makes him put a firm grasp around her shoulders. He smells like excitable sweat and Mountain Dew– the Hellfire Club special. “What’s happened, sweetheart?”

A rough sound comes out of her nose. “You know that… you know that stupid cat that’s been coming around my trailer–”

“The cat you’ve been pretending not to have?” She should abhor how perceptive he is.

“Y… yes. She, w– well, someone hit her. With a car. It’s s– she didn’t make it–’

“Oh, holy shit.” Eddie wraps her up in his arms, her head pressing hard into the joint of his shoulder. Lacy’s eyes screw up harder, as if she could push them to the back of her skull. 

“They just hit her, Eddie, and they kept going–”

“Holy shit.”

“And I didn’t– and, but, Max Mayfield, she came to get me and– it was just, I didn’t hear the door in time–”

“Come on. No, no. Come on, baby, inside. Up, up, atta girl.” Eddie about props her up, steering her right into his trailer. Lacy’s preset Wayne alarm goes off–is he here, doesn’t he hate me, I don’t want to die tonight too–but Eddie’s quick on the buzzer. 

“Night shift, sweetheart. You’re safe. Siddown.”

“It’s so stupid.” She drops in slow motion onto the Munson’s sagging couch. It aches to move.

Eddie sinks in right beside her, leaving no room for a draught between them. He’s running warm, no doubt hopped up on caffeine and campaign mischief. 

“Hey. Not stupid. Not stupid.” His voice is featherlight. He tucks the tiniest lock of hair behind her ear. 

“I loved that little thing.”

“I know you did. Well–I didn’t have the privilege of knowing you did, really, but you… obviously did, Lace. Shit.”

“Fucking little bitch,” Lacy says, voice a roux of incredulity and betrayal. “I loved her.”

Eddie snorts and pulls her right close. She crumples up and sobs good, like the sounds she makes can’t quite fill the cavern this has created in her. Lacy sobs until her head can’t take it anymore, a wet spot and a streak of mascara left on Eddie’s Hellfire shirt. 

But Eddie is sweet and patient, and strokes her hair and doesn’t comment on how ugly she probably sounds. Not at all. 

After a little bit, he asks, “Lace. Where’d you find her?”

“Uh. She must be– must’ve been just a stray, you know, from around. I found her giving shit to the Mayfields’ dog.”

“Huh?” Eddie’s brow leaps.

“Yeah,” Lacy breathes, lowly and mirthfully.

“But how did you two…”

“I don’t know. She just locked eyes on me and ran right around my ankles. Right into the trailer before I could stop her and headed straight to my room. I flipped, of course, because of Gloriana but then she hopped up on my bed and did that kneading thing they do? With their nails?”

“The–” Eddie imitates it on her shoulder, his thicker fingers with his blunt nails no match for Cat’s talons. Lacy’s inclined to tell him to keep doing it, though.

“Yeah. Sniffing around. And I just watched her in the doorway. I didn't know what to do, so I tried to shoo her. But she didn’t give a shit. She just curled up in my– my tartan scarf and fell asleep. Like it was her place all along.”

The corners of his mouth press downward, an expression that makes her heart lurch. 

“She didn’t wanna leave, huh? She wanted to stay with you.”

“She did. She did. Shit.”

—

“Times of strife call for special privileges.”

“Oh, Christ, the fine china.” 

The Garfield mug filled with two thumbs of Bev’s finest fell-off-the-truck well whiskey and three cigarettes later, a slack-limbed Lacy rubs her face against Eddie’s shoulder. 

Any other day, any other planet, that’d be cause for some considerable pants action but… it’s difficult. To see her like this. All shocked and scraped out. 

“You want to hear a stupid conclusion I came to the other day?” Lacy says steewpid with empty-stomach drinking vitriol. “Just the other day.”

“You know I love stupid,” Eddie polishes off the last of his drink from his I Heart Nabraska (real spelling error) mug and pours them both another. “Hit me. Just not in the groin.”

“I didn’t understand what unconditional love meant before this goddamn cat.”

It checks out, Eddie thinks. Her parents and their affection with strings attached. Her old friends, worshiping a facade. No one really saw Lace at her worst and loved her anyway. At least, not until– 

“No shit?” He blames his roughed up voice on the liquor. 

“Mm. I expected nothing of her. Every time she left I thought, well, that’ll be it. I expected nothing. And I loved her all the same. Unconditional. No strings, no compromise.”

“No pretending.”

“No bullshit. Ride or die.”

“‘til the bloody end,” he raises his mug to cheers her, and Lacy winces. Eddie’s face crumples, apologetic. “Yeowch. Okay. I’m sorry.’

“No, it’s– I'm just pissed her little face got messed up so bad,” she sniffs. He gazes down at her and wants to poke the pudge of cheek that’s wedged against his shoulder. “I was gonna taxidermy her one day.”

“Really?” Eddie's voice comes out a little pitchy.

Lacy hops immediately on the defensive. “Yeah.” 

There’s a lot of bizarro stuff Eddie can get down with, but the whole uncanny valley of the animals thing always weirded him out. “You were gonna stuff the cat? Give it, like marble eyes and shit?”

Lacy, on the other hand, sits up straight.

“Abso-fucking-lutely. We were going to grow old together, and either I was going to taxidermy her or she was going to eat my body when I died.”

The glassy eyes and indignation are additions to a long list of things that make Eddie feel a gold rush of serious affection for this girl. “Oh, honeybear, you are so creepy.”

“Well, everyone says that about cats!” Lacy yelps, wedging another cigarette between her lips. She rubs at her eyes too, the red rims looking stingy and painful now. “That if they’re left alone with a corpse, it’s like an all-you-can-eat, seconds at the breakfast bar type of deal. And everyone gets so goddamn squeamish about it too, I mean, come on, I'd rather she eat me than starve.”

“Warped. Digressive,” Eddie says, his mouth curling up.

“Spare me your five-cent words, I'm pragmatic.”

“You’d let your cat treat you like a church cookout and you’re calling that pragmatism?”

“Of course I would. She's my girl.” She flinches, head shaking. “Was.”

“Is,” Eddie insists. “You know, whole cat-eating-your-face thing… That’s basically a sacrifice to Bastet. Totally transcends mortality.”

She sinks back into the couch and instinctive motion has him throwing his arm up so she can tuck underneath it. 

“Know what I called her?”

“This’ll be good.”

“Cat.”

“This’ll be bad.”

“Breakfast at Tiffany’s, you fucking neophyte. ‘If I could find a real life place that made me feel like Tiffany’s, I’d buy some furniture and give the cat a name’. Holly Golightly in that bare apartment.”

“I spy a parallel being drawn here, sweetheart.”

“Well, good fucking eye. No… um, I think I finally got what she meant when I moved into…” She gestures, hard, with her cigarette toward the door. Toward her own trailer across the way from the Munson’s abode. 

“Mm.” Eddie shifts in his seat. It kind of bugs him sometimes, the idea that she might still look down her nose at the trailer park despite having adapted to it pretty fucking fluidly. Comes with being a chameleon, he guesses, but he wonders if there’s not part of her that’s still wrinkling her nose. “Not exactly the picture of refinement, yeah, yeah.”

“I don’t know,” she mumbles. She’s as close to undone as he’s ever seen her, her mascara caked and flaking under her eyes and her hair all a rumpled mess. Only time he’s ever seen her as close to the edge before this was the last night she’d stormed this trailer. “I don’t know if I've really found my Tiffany's. Maybe this is it.’

“Double-wide with a busted water heater? Should we also check for a gas leak, Doevski? You’re mental.”

“You’re being obtuse,” she says, suddenly pointed like a dart. A flash of his regular serving of Lace. “The Tiffany’s in question isn’t honest-to-god Tiffany’s–she says it's the quiet, the proud look about it. That’s what calms her down when she’s got the mean reds. And I…”

Eddie can feel that he’s wearing that infuriatingly bemused expression he tends to slide on when Lacy is mid-reveal of a profound thought. He can tell by the way she’s starting to glare at him. 

“Shut up. Listen. I– I think about it like this. It's 6AM. The sun’s just cracking the sky. It’s quiet, you can barely hear the birds. There’s a hundred identical units across this lot, each one of them housing different lives. Carl in the management shack. Nita in the home hair salon. Granny Ecker and Ron. Everyone interconnected. Everyone… everyone looking out for each other, a little.”

Right. She’d mentioned how Nita and Max and them had rallied around her and poor Cat.

Still, Eddie can’t help a bad thing. He flips his hand in a flourish, gesturing to himself.

“Presenting the great exception.” For all this inter-connectedness she spoke, of, wasn’t nobody looking out for little old–

“Shut up, Eddie. You know half this park has your back by writ of being related to Wayne, you’re just too much of a contrarian woe-is-me to see it. And you’re a pain in the ass on top of that.”

He stifles an argument she would win with a pinched lemon sour face. “Noted. Go on.”

“Anyway,” she exasperatedly huffs, passing him the remaining half of her cigarette, “I sit… on my porch and I have my coffee. And I have my little cat. And I know you’re across the way, probably asleep. It's quiet. And there’s pride in that quiet. In that quiet, I've felt more at peace than I have my whole stupid flimsy life. I can't explain why. I'm a cynic, we know this. But it might be fucking… Tiffany's.”

Eddie’s fingers drum against the crown of Lacy’s head as he considers this. Framing this as some kind of surprise utopia. This skidmark on the outer edge of town. Except, she’d said it in a fashion that made him want to set an alarm for six in the morning.

“Buy some furniture and give the cat a name. Shit.” 

“Shit.”

He finishes the last of the cigarette she’d passed to him and takes another sip of shitty, awful, rotgut whiskey.

“... we can find another cat, y’know,” he mutters tentatively, resting his chin on her head. “I’m kind of a–” Don’t you fucking say pussy magnet. Eddie. Don’t. “--a feline whisperer.”

But he’s got grounds, unfortunately. The feral cats around the lot take to following him around like he’s a bigger, hairier feral cat. This might have something to do with him carrying loose salami in his pockets as a younger man. That reputation never really goes away among the feral cat colonies. 

“Those mean and scary strays,” Lacy mumbles into his chest. 

“Not so mean and scary. Just used to having their boundaries up, is all. Can relate.”

“Can relate.”

“I could unscary one for you. There’s this one little dude, one eye, three and a half legs, I call him Snake Plissken and he–”

“Oh, Eddie,” she sighs; it makes his heart ka-chunk, “There is no other cat. There’s just Cat. She was perfect.”

“Well, she had hefty goddamn standards to meet if she made this much of an impression on you.” Eddie’s mouth twinges. “I’m real, real sorry, Lace.”

“I need to bury her.” The finality with which Lacy breathes it out makes them both sag further into the couch.

But Eddie doesn’t show a lick of hesitation.

“So let’s bury her. You got a spot?”

—

They pull up at Lover’s Lake. 

Cat lies in Lacy’s lap, slowly stiffening and losing warmth. Lacy’s fingers stay crooked in the little space under her chin that she would tilt up, up, up for her to tickle. It makes her queasy to think about it too much, and to think about it too little makes her cry. She straddles the line between sick and sad and Eddie plays the radio real low in the truck. Some sad sack station. ‘Don’t Forget Me’, Harry Nilsson. Pathetic fallacy eeks out of the speakers, not used to playing anything this low and slow.  

Lacy directs Eddie into the underbrush as they edge off Holland.

“Right over here.”

“This is a nice spot. Not too public.”

“The water. She’d like to see it.”

“The water… for your cat.”

“You know they can swim? Cats can swim. Everybody thinks they hate water, but they can swim.”

She notices that he doesn’t quite swallow that scoff in time and mutters, “Yeah, and they probably hate every second of swimming.”

“But they can do it.” She's driving a point home. It’s about subverting expectations. Stupid.

“Yeah! Yeah, they can swim,” Eddie says, half-way humoring her as he helps her out of the van with Cat, “and if you ask them, they hate every second of it."

“Stop being pedantic.”

“Stop trying to have something to say about everything!” 

They both blink at the slight blow of Eddie’s exasperation. Everything feels a little weird and wired and raw right now. He pulls a shovel out of the back of the van, huffing through his nose.

“You’ll rue the day I don’t have something to say about everything,” Lacy winds up, indignant and stepping to him with that poor little thing cradled against her. Her eyes narrow and his index finger floats in her face. She can’t quite place where this is bubbling from, and nor can he.

“You’re staying overnight with me, okay?!” Eddie snaps. He means business. He’s got the finger out. 

“Huh?” It comes out her mouth a garbled little protest.

“You’re not going home alone. There. Not tonight.” All he’s missing is a patented and that’s final! Flashes of a night spent curled against him attack Lacy’s frontal lobe. 

Yes, is her immediate reaction. She wants that. That warmth he’s thrusting toward her, that security. That comfort. But, one problem. 

“Wayne.”

“Wayne’s not back ‘til morning and also, who gives a good goddamn shit?” Eddie froths. “I don’t. My room, my mildew, my rules. Okay?”

She feels shaky in this, his insistence to tug the safety blanket around her. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

His shoulders sag. He nudges his sneaker against the hilt of the shovel. It’s very quiet out here, save for the crickets and the sounds of their heartbeats in their ears. 

“Look at us,” Eddie smirks, his mouth twisting for facetiousness, “Fuckin’... Shitkicker Gothic out here. Let’s get this cat burial on the road.”

Lacy nods with a heavy head and starts into the underbrush. Eddie matches her step for step. They end up in a secluded spot deeper into the wooded area. Nature’s bay window looks out onto glittering Lover’s Lake. And if you look right up, the trees open up to a tiny patch of sky. Smattering of stars. Just enough for Cat. 

“I don’t mean to be disgusting, Lace, but I really hope you’re not burying Cat at a hotspot for fingerbanging.”

Ambiance shattered. Almost. Lacy glares at him.

“No. People begin to exhibit signs of wigging-outery the closer they get to that weird house on the bank, so they never get past second base here. This is… a perfect boundary for her.”

“Ah,” Eddie nods, his chin resting on the shovel handle. “One paw in the world of lakeside makeouts and the other in the land of the working class criminal.” At Lacy’s puzzled head shake, he gestures to that dilapidated looking house across the way. “S’uh, Reefer Rick’s place. Really clean marker of the social divide you got here.”

“A fault line,” Lacy says. Yeah. That feels good.

“With a lovely view.” Eddie jerks his head toward the flat rocks at the water’s edge and sinks the shovel into the soft soil. “Go sit with her.”

Lacy does. Cat wrapped in her stiffness, her head hidden in the tartan shroud. Lacy’s heart aches, that she’ll never get to run her pinkie finger down the perfect slant of her tiny nose again. Not without feeling blood matted against the fur. It’s not fair. None of it. It was so close to real, this thing they had. 

What's wrong with her that the bottom keeps falling out of good things like this? 

“Is this your first?” Eddie gently calls over the soft shoveling of soil.

“Cat?”

“Death.”

Lacy doesn’t have to think on it. Any relatives other than her mom’s estranged sister were dead before she was cognizant of what it all meant. Her father didn't have any family to speak of. Not even a foster sibling or two he was still in contact with.

“Yes.” A beat. “Is this your first?”

“Death?” Eddie grimly parrots.

“Grave.”

“Why, yes.”

“Hopefully your last." She's arch.

“Ah, with your blessed presence in my life, Miss Doevski,” he says, “something tells me it won’t be.” 

She smiles into her shoulder, down at Cat, across the water.

“Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart.”

There is no being ready. There is no way to easily unplug from the faux-reality of holding something once soft now rigid, the netherealm of not knowing whether your beloved is coming or going. Up, down, left, right. sideways. Maybe Lacy ought to toss Cat in the water and see if she’ll swim. 

She joins Eddie at the neat little grave he’s dug and is hesitant. 

Throat closing. Head pounding. Stomach tightening.

Shit. Fuck. 

Nerves or bile or both rise and she can feel every nerve ending in her hands. 

A clear of a throat that isn’t hers.

“May I?” Eddie’s holding his hands out. He takes Cat. Lacy watches his ringed fingers gently taper through the tuft of her furry side. Glistening blue-black in the moonlight. He might��ve mouthed the words, ‘Aw, soft,’ but she can’t be sure. 

“Well, Cat,” and she can tell a classic Munson missive is about to kick off. Lacy knits her fingers together as if in prayer and looks down at her feet. Tries not to look at Eddie, with his insistent arms and undefeatable presence, cradling Cat. “It sucks that I never got to know you, but I understand you had some kind of third-wave, kill-all-men feminism thing going on which, practically I'm shit-scared of and conceptually I guess I respect.” He clears his throat again. “But I know that you were… loved, even if your presence wasn’t a whole to-do. I mean, damn.”

Eddie bends his head nearer Cat’s, affecting a stage whisper that makes Lacy roll her eyes. Affection. Affection. Affection.

“You lucked out, Cat. You picked a really good one here. I know it. She likes to play the shit that matters, the nice shit she does, close to the vest instead of showing off about it, but… ‘Deeds will not be less valiant because they are unpraised’. Aragorn. By the way.”

“Nerd.”

“Please shut up, I am not finished, you are being rude,” Eddie pokes in this clipped tone Lacy knows is supposed to be an impression of her. He drops it as soon as picks it up, everything about him softening.  “She was lucky to have you, but you were luckier having had her.”

Oh. The breath shakes in her lungs. Oh. 

A moment or two passes before Lacy realizes she’s been frozen. It’s time.

“You wanna–” Eddie softly suggests, “Or should I–”

“Oh, wait!” Her collar. Lacy’s nails unpick the leather strap, sliding it away from Cat’s throat. Eddie catches the shimmer of the diamante heart and shakes his head. 

“Farewell, the fanciest cat Forest Hills has ever seen.”

With gentle and careful hands, Eddie lowers Cat into the dirt. Lacy might choke if she tries to speak, but then he catches her trembling, nerve-raw hand in hers. 

“'I don’t like love as a command. As a search,'” it slips out of Lacy in a murmur, “'It must come to you, like a hungry cat at the door.'”

Eddie’s brow furrows, waiting for her to cite…

“Bukowski. By the way.”

“Nerd.” 

Lacy sprinkles the first fistful of dirt over Cat’s prone, resting body. It really seems like that, in the dark bed of soil. Cool, restful. And in the heavy swathe of this night too. 

Eddie only lets her hand go to cover the rest of the grave. 

Once he’s done, he twists the shovel in the dirt. “You wanna mark it or anything? So you can come back?”

“I don’t know,” Lacy says. Is there a way to address the gap she feels between her and the resting place? Probably not yet. “Don’t know that it’ll really do anything for me.’

“You’ll know where to find her, though. If you need.”

“Oh, yeah. you don’t forget a spot like this.”

Eddie slings his arm over her hunched and shivering shoulders, shaking against a chill that doesn’t exist. He leans into the crown of her head–not quite a kiss, but an utterance. 

“Gracefully done, Lace. She’d be proud.”

God, she hopes so. 

Silly little cat. 

They follow their track back to Eddie's van, arm in arm, the two-person funeral match plus one shovel. From up the embankment, a light flickers on. Some heavily obscured figure seems to wobble in silhouette, like it’s waving. 

Eddie slides off a two-finger salute to the spectre. 

“Friend of yours?” Lacy squints.

“That’s Rick. If you’re lucky, I’ll never have to introduce the two of you.”

Eddie helps Lacy into the passenger seat. She sits there, arms feeling weighted and empty. 

“Eddie.” His name crackles in her mouth.

“No, no. Don’t mention i–”

“You were the only person I wanted to see. After it happened. You were the only one. I couldn’t call you at Hellfire or anything. I wouldn’t have wanted you to leave, but you… I just wanted to see you.” 

Something about that statement makes her feel incredibly lonesome. 

Until he takes her hand. Swallows hard and kisses it gentle. 

“That is… an honor I don’t rightly deserve, Lace.”

“Bullshit.”

“Let’s not make, like, a whole thing of it.” Eddie inches out this pained smile that Lacy needs desperately to wipe off his face, somehow. To replace it with something that doesn’t look like it’s pinching him. He has to know. “I’m glad I could be here. For you. For Cat.”

“Me too, Eddie.”

[bildaddyanduziraphale-aremarried]

Wedding List for Bildaddy's and MrAZFellco's Wedding

First Draft Faithfully recorded by @loretta-dont-you-oppress-me

Wedding Planning Team @amagnificentobsession @docdust @loretta-dont-you-oppress-me @bil-daddy & @mrazfellco

First Prophet and Officiant @ineffablemossy

Flower Girls @adam-n-dog @ar1mas @jobsblamelessgoats

Ring Bearer @theinsanelycoolconnormurphey

Catering

@sayeverythingwillbefineplease (cookies) @70snasagay (lots of food, allergy friendly) @sparkly-s0da (phở - viet rice noodle soup) @violet-yimlat (most gorgeous wedding cake) @bil-daddy (ox ribs (platonic)) Brian (larks' tongues, otters' noses, ocelot spleens, wrens' livers, badgers' spleens) + Judith Iscariot (tbc)

Dove Releaser @one-coming-is-enough

Crow Releaser @lady-without-name

Wedding Car @imthebentley

Children's tamers @sitisonmyface @heartofawitch939

Sword training for the kids (human) @ennonymous-twink @mrazfellco (if available)

Music @magicaltrevah (harpsichord, cotillion ball backing tracks)

Tom Cardy

Monty Python minstrel group including the Pied Piper

David Tennant singing under the shower

Photography

Furfur (@crrrowley)

@greatsouthernpansy

Wedding Gardener and florist A certain Anthony J. Crowley (tbc)

Security @bagelofchaos (Security Director, trained in jiu jitsu) @greatsouthernpansy (Assistant Security Director) @helphowdoiusethis (Assistant to the Assistant Security Director, will get drunk and dance on the table) @raven-hellish-imp @b1mbap-b3b0p @snedbee @professional-termite (destroyed @pret-a-metatron the Metatron's café) @janeway-lover @iceeericeee @sparrowsortadrawzzz @sparkly-s0da

Rammy (where is he?)

Bart Curlish? (maybe too unhinged)

Loki? (trustworthy?)

Aro Volturi? (trustworthy?)

Lucian (Lycan)

Wedding Guests (in alphabetical order)

@70snasagay @amagnificentobsession +1 Lucian (vampyre) @actual-changeling @archangelcrowliel @archangelscorner @ar1mas @aziraphalalala @bagelofchaos @brinnybee @celticseawych @carbonarok @crazypigeonenjoyer @ex-supreme-archangel-gabriel @fellshish @former-prince-of-hell @god-in-the-basement @historian-crown @i-dream-of-sheeny (body or +1 of @docdust) @ineffablegays13 @ineffable-suffering @justmori @morningbloodystar plus family @raggedy-spaceman @rainbowpopeworld @sassasafreeaction @seraphblood @snedbee @sweetlittledisasterpink @theangelyouknew @the-almighty-lucifer @trainwreck-transgender-3dysporia @trenchcoat-of-bees @velvetvulgarities @weasleywrinkles

Guests of Honor

Freddie Mercury

Betty White

[henrywintersdearestgirl]

Wasn’t sure about this one, but I also have to feed my doves some content:)

My kind of Picturesque:

Richard Papen’s point of view:

Growing up poor gives people certain habits, some better, some worse.

I was so used to mine that I couldn’t even decide which one it was categorised into.

Ever since I could think, I always found myself longing. After everything I didn’t have or never could have. Expensive items, designer clothes, being an orphan and certain people.

I always found myself wishing I was someone else, someone classy and rich, like Francis Abernathy or Henry Winter, smart minds and big bank accounts.

There was one exception where I didn’t want to be a certain person, but longing to be with one. With her.

Sure, I always found certain people attractive or nice, and I even wished about being with them, but longing is a whole different thing. Longing consumes your mind and keeps you up at nights, daydreaming and lost in fantasies.

She lived in the dorm next to mine, I found that out the very first day I arrived at Hampden. I was in a rush to the office to deliver some papers and I forgot it in my dorm room, my head and thoughts were messy from being tired and just straight up nervous. I didn’t even notice that the room I barged to wasn’t mine.

That is when I first saw her, I stopped in my tracks and let out a loud gasp, she was dressing when I accidentally barged in.

I have never seen such perfection before, she was only wearing black cotton underwear, her chest area was completely bare for my wandering eyes to see. At first she looked like a deer in the headlights, then she began to smile slyly. “Howdy, neighbour?”

She was completely unbothered by the fact that her breasts were completely out.

“I-I’m sorry…” I said and I slammed the door shut.

In the office I couldn’t focus on anything and everyone had to repeat everything they said to me multiple times.

I always had trouble sleeping, but that night I found myself in a deep long sleep. I suppose masturbating all night tired me out, but I just couldn’t help myself. Her naked body was on my mind every second. The thought that she was in the room beside me aroused me even more. I fantasised that she was also doing the same thing I was, touching herself, maybe even thinking of me like I was thinking of her. Maybe she was groping her own breasts, those beautiful and tender, soft pink nippled breasts. I wanted to touch her, feel her and get a taste of her so bad, to run my hand along her soft stomach and bury my head between her thighs. I imagined her being so desperate for pleasure that she came knocking on my door, that didn’t happen.

The next morning I woke up to the sound of her voice. Not in the way I would have preferred, but it was her voice nonetheless. “Stupid motherfucking shoe!” That I heard after a thud.

My still dazed thinking from my sleep made me bolt out of bed and make my way to her room. To apologize to her for what happened the day before, and mostly to just get a chance to see and talk to her.

I knocked on her door and she opened it seconds later. She was getting ready. Her hair was a big mess, her pretty face had makeup on, she was wearing a raggedy old band t-shirt and some kind of shorts. She flashed me a toothy grin. “Morning, neighbour!” She turned on her heel and the door opened wider for me to step inside.

“Morning.” I felt somewhat awkward but she didn’t seem bothered by it.

“Did I wake you up? I am terribly sorry about it, it’s just that I was looking for something on the top of my wardrobe and a shoe fell right on my head.” She said while rummaging through her closet.

“No, you didn’t, don’t even mention it…” I leaned against her door frame with my arms crossed, I didn’t know how to hold them without being awkward. “Listen…?”

“Y/n, y/l/n.” She said as she threw herself down on her chair. “Carry on, Richard.” She began styling her hair.

“Y/n, right.” I was flattered that she knew my name already, her name tasted like honey on my tongue. “So, about yesterday… I am terribly sorry for barging in like that, I really thought it was my room, sorry.”

“Oh, please, it’s all good, don’t even mention it. I didn’t make you too uncomfortable did I?” She turned towards me with a foxy grin.

Her gaze made me nervous, I could feel the blush creeping up my neck. “N-no, I-, no of course not! Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“Not at all.” She stood up and came to me. “Wanna get breakfast?” She put her hand on her hip. I was beaming on the inside from her offer, it was one I could not decline for anything.

“Yeah, sure.”

She giggled excitedly. “Good, meet me in front of your door in half an hour, is that enough for you?”

“Of course, see you then, I guess.”

I turned on my heel and hurried back to my room. I barely found an outfit that was casual and didn’t reveal that I was trying to impress her. I brushed my teeth and got myself together. Half an hour later she was knocking on my door.

She was wearing a lace trimmed top and skirts, and what surprised me was that she was wearing cowboy boots. She looked absolutely beautiful.

We talked and talked at breakfast, she was the best company I ever had.

We have been friends ever since then.

We used to go over to each other’s rooms a lot, to talk, to borrow things, anything really. The more I saw her, the more I fell in love with her. She was everything. She loved golden age Hollywood, fashion and diet coke, there was always one or two can of them in her bag. She was also awfully fond of cowboy boots, had one of them in nearly every colour. It turned out that the day she woke me up with her cursing, it was a cowboy boot that fell onto her head.

Her and Judy were really good friends too, us three even did coke in a burger king parking lot one time.

Everyone liked her, to my biggest surprise, even the Greek class liked her. Everybody knew her, her wild hair and cowboy booted outfits.

Bunny always said what a fun chick she was. Henry never really said anything, but he always checked her out when she went by us. Camilla and Francis adored her.

There was one time I remember so vividly. Me, Camilla and Francis attended one of those college parties before going down to the country house. We had quite a few drinks and suddenly while we were talking in a quieter place, trying to sober up a bit before hitting the road, Francis’s eyes went wide and his face paled. We panicked that he was sick, but he just pointed his finger behind us. We were in the same state of shock moments later when we saw Judy and y/n making out wildly at the wall.

We might have been perverts for this but we watched it all. They kept on switching places and pushing the other up the wall in passion. Judy was in a skirt and a colourful blouse, while y/n had a black mini dress on, usual to herself she wore brown cowboy boots and even a hat, she was so sexy.

They gripped each other’s hair, Judy pushed her against the wall while kissing her neck, her chanel red nailed hands found their way under her dress and there was no sugarcoating what she was doing to y/n, nor there was no sugarcoating in the noises she was letting out, Judy was whispering in her ear and occasionally it made her moan.

Minutes later, they switched places again, y/n got on her knees and buried her head under Poovey’s skirt.

We watched her go down on her and based on Judy’s reaction, she was very good at it.

When she finished, she wiped her mouth seductively and kissed her one last time before dragging her back to the party.

This made the three of us sober up properly, and even aroused. We went to the car and didn’t say a word on the road, we didn’t need to, our body language told everything. Me and Francis trying to hide our excitement and Camilla blushing and fidgeting made it obvious that she was in no different state than we were.

When we arrived, we found Henry in the library, he stopped in his tracks at the sight of us. “Did something happen?”

The three of us needed another drink after that, we told Henry all we saw and he just kept his set face. “Interesting.” That was all he said.

“Sooo… she likes girls?” Said Francis after a somewhat comfortable pause. He looked at me, studying my expressions, he knew that I was fond of her. I wanted her every second, I knew that my chances with her were near zero, but this could make it a proper zero.

“She can like men, too. She’s young and wild, this doesn’t define her.” I was awfully surprised as Henry said this.

Later on I found out why Henry knew that she was attracted to men.

While in Hampden, they hooked up occasionally. They weren’t in a relationship, I don’t even know to this day how it started out. I was mad at Henry at first, that he got to touch and feel her, but it’s not like I made big efforts to get her. I always thought that she would come to me, she never did.

At the beginning of our last year of college, she got discovered. It turned out that she was a talented actress and a big director from Hollywood noticed it. She always had a certain sparkle to her, as well as timeless beauty. Her name was placed on billboards and movie credits.

Nonetheless, she finished her studies at Hampden, like she wasn’t one of the brightest actress of our generation. She was the same person, the wild haired cowboy booted girl next door. It was like nothing had changed.

When we graduated, I fell out of touch with everyone, except Francis, who I exchanged letters with from time to time. I had one last breakfast with her, we talked and had an emotional goodbye. I tried to hold my tears back while hugging her with all my might. I didn’t know at the time the secret she was carrying.

Many, many years later, I moved to New York, mostly for the job I got at a university, and in the city I could also keep an eye out for Francis, who was mostly bored all the time. Y/n really made a name for herself, she kept her life private mostly, so I didn’t know where she was or what she was up to these days.

One day while I was on my way to the university I was teaching at, I ran into Henry. It was refreshing to see him, we chatted for a while and he invited me over to dinner in his apartment.

I was glad that I could catch up with him, I didn’t expect that it wouldn’t be only the two of us at dinner, the discovery still makes my stomach knot.

I arrived and Henry greeted me, he lived in a huge apartment that was packed in antique furniture. Suddenly, two little boys in suits came to say hi. Claude and Vincent Winter were their names. They looked identical to Henry, pale skin, icy blue eyes and dark raven hair. They were well mannered smart children.

I was about to ask if he had a wife or something while we were sitting on the couch, sipping whiskey, until a little girl waddled out in her little pink dress. It made me smile, Henry being a father to twin boys and a little girl. At first she had her back to me, she sat in her father’s lap and nuzzled herself close to him. Until Henry gently cooed to her that it was impolite to not greet their guest.

When she turned her head, my breath got stuck in my throat. She was the perfect copy of the girl that lived next door to me. Her hair long and her eyes big. She smiled at me. “Good evening, mister.” I could only nod in my shocked state.

Henry stroked her hair gently. “Go get Mama, would you?” She catapulted out of his lap to do as she was told.

“You have three children?!” I downed my whiskey down in one swallow.

“I do, yes. That was Heidi.”

“When a-and how?” I stammered out.

“Well, Richard, I don’t think I have to explain the process of reproduction.” He gave a little chuckle.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. Do you have a wife?”

He didn’t answer, he just looked to the side and smiled. I heard her before I saw her. “Howdy, neighbour.” My heart nearly stopped, I turned my head so fast in her direction that it was a miracle that I didn’t break my neck. She looked more mature and more like a mother, but still the biggest beauty I’ve seen. There were still some girlish features on her. Her once wild hair was cut off, now she had hair like Marilyn Monroe, it suited her.

She sat down next to Henry and leaned into his touch, her left hand was caressing his that was wrapped around her waist, a golden ring on both. It was no mystery, they were married and the three little clones were from her.

“Hold on a second, how old are your children?” That was the first thing I said after I told y/n that she looked good.

“Vincent and Claude are six, Heidi is three.”

We last saw each other in Hampden, six years ago.

“You were pregnant when we graduated, weren’t you?” I put the pieces together in my head. She smiled and nodded. I tilted my head for further explanation.

They did explain it all to me. While in Hampden, they hooked up occasionally, even after she got famous, nothing serious. Senior year it was, when in spring it turned out that y/n fell pregnant with Henry’s baby. She had no idea what to do, but Henry was there for her and he helped her make her choice, to keep his baby. He took her out, gave her gifts and cared for her. They fell in love, they married in the summer of our graduation and they kept it a secret. Y/n was in a big movie while her pregnancy wasn’t showing, and after it she took a break from Hollywood. They ran away to a little Italian villa and y/n gave birth to twin boys in Italy.

We sat down to dinner, and while I was awfully mad at them at first, I noticed how meant to be they were.

She suddenly spoke up. “Richard?” She snapped me out of my haze. “Remember our last breakfast together, on June 16th?”

“How could I ever forget?” I could never.

“Well, that is the day I realized I was having twins. When I hugged you I felt my bump against you, and I was convinced that you felt it too.” She giggled. “Did you?”

I didn’t remember, I was so focused on trying to say or do something that will make her mine that I didn’t even notice her pregnant belly poking at me, the pregnant belly that was carrying my friend’s babies.

“I didn’t, no.”

Dinners with the Winter’s became a usual thing, eventually, Francis started to tag along. Heidi adored him. I became Uncle Richard to their children, and I liked it.

Did I ever stop longing after her though? Never, she would always be the wild haired girl next door in cowboy boots to me.

[breaniebree]

SNEAK PEEK!

Chapter 352 SNEAK PEEK -- The One With the Blowjobs

Within thirty minutes, it seemed that everyone had arrived and Anthony whistled to get everyone’s attention.

“I just wanted to thank everyone for coming tonight.  It’s been seven years since we all first met at Hogwarts and a lot has happened since that first train ride,” Anthony said.  “Tonight is to celebrate our victories and to send us all off on a path towards a good future.  I want everyone to swim, to drink, to play games, and to have a good time.  If anyone drinks too much, feel free to crash here, I have the room.  But first, I want everyone to take a glass of the Prosecco that’s coming around.  Parkinson, my house elf has sparkling apple juice just for you.  Take your glass and let’s all have a drink and a moment of silence to those amazing friends who can’t be here tonight.”

The room had gone fairly silent at that as they all accepted their glasses from the house elf bringing them around.

“Let’s take a moment,” Anthony repeated.  “To honour those whom we lost in this war.  Susan.  Kevin.  Tracey.  Lavender.  Natalie.  Parvati.  Su.  Stephen.  Lily.  And Terry.”

Everyone was quiet as they raised their glass and drank to their memory.

Anthony nodded.  “Please, enjoy yourselves and let’s celebrate the futures we are beginning thanks to the Chosen One.  To Harry!”

“To Harry!”

“To Harry!”

Harry blushed as people began to cheer his name, raising their glasses more and more.  When everyone drank to him, he gave a small smile and bowed his head in thanks.  Ginny squeezed his hand in hers and he gave her a grateful look.

They took their seats back on the lounge chair as a DJ began to play some music and Harry shook his head.

“He hired a DJ?”

Ron snorted.  “Harry, I don’t think you understand how ridiculously rich Goldstein is.  This party is actually tame.”  He stood up and pulled his shirt off, dropping it on the chair next to Hermione.  “Now, who wants to go for a swim?”

Before anyone could say anything, Ron dove into the water in his bright orange and white bathing trunks, grinning when his head broke the surface.

“Water’s great!”

Hermione took off her own shorts and tee shirt, revealing a navy blue one-piece before she joined Ron in the water.  Ginny pulled her shirt off as she sat down next to Harry, revealing her turquoise bikini top.

“I think I need a new swim suit, this one is starting to get a bit raggedy,” Ginny said.

Harry’s eyes were on the way her tits were filling out the top until Ginny pinched him.  “Ow.  Yes, sorry.  New suit.  I was listening.”

He undressed himself, revealing his own black bathing trunks just as Theo and Sebastian made their way over to them.

“Hi, all!”  Theo exclaimed, his eyes on Harry.  “Lover!  Where’s that sexy blue suit I bought you?”

“He wouldn’t wear it,” Ginny said.  “He claims he lost it.”

“I picked that out just for you!”  Theo protested.

“I’m not wearing that in public, Theo,” Harry insisted.  “It’s way too tight and short.”

“Exactly,” Theo teased, winking at him.

Harry rolled his eyes.  “Sebastian, mate, control him.”

Sebastian chuckled.  “Nah.  He’s too entertaining.”

Theo beamed at him before he grabbed his boyfriend’s hand.  “Bas, this is Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbott.  This is my boyfriend, Sebastian Kane.”

“Nice to meet you,” Hannah said, smiling kindly.  

“Bas, Hannah is the one who baked those delicious fairy cakes I brought you to try.  She’s going to do all of the desserts for your parents’ party.”

“I’m excited to do it,” Hannah told them.

“What’s up, bitches?”  Blaise said, grabbing Theo from behind so that he shrieked.

Theo turned to throw his arms around his friend.  “Blaise!”

Blaise hugged him tightly.  “I dragged Draco with me, don’t worry.”

Theo beamed and threw himself into Draco’s arms next.  Draco, who had been carrying a drink and his beach towel, almost dropped everything when Theo grabbed him.  The two Slytherins took a seat on the side of the pool, their feet in the water as Sebastian said hello to Ron and Hermione in the pool below them.

[alcnfr]

The afternoon dump of assortedness...

House Finches on the seed feeder, Chipping Sparrow on the suet feeder...

Mockingbird on the post, raggedy Common Grackle under the feeders...

Expectant Gray Squirrel, Mourning Doves...

[everythingisround]

I feel like raggedy andy and clem would go completely opposite directions when calling each other pet names. Like andy would probably be more modest and call clem the basics like ‘honey’ and ‘sweetie’ and ‘babe’, but then clem would go all out and give andy names such as (but not limited to) ‘fluff muffin’, or ‘lovey dove’, or ‘turnip’

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

Cool, I'm down with both poodle Arezu and arctic fox Irida. Not sure about lizard Mai, if only because I'm not sure how that would affect Adaman's self-image issues. Although. Mai could be like, the Exception to him, because she's Good Luck in their culture, on top of being fast and blue and beautiful, and thus basically an ideal Diamond Clan embodiment. If she were pretty much any other kind of reptile he might feel different, but if they're the only two Diamond Clan reptiles around at that point and she's a lucky animal, then that'd make sense if he was able to keep his insecurities about being a bad fit for a leader and like maybe the Pearl Clan are onto something about reptiles having piss poor luck. It's just that now he has someone to compare himself to, and all he can see are the ways that he falls short. A mourning dove for Cogita is a smart idea, I like it a lot. Also, I was thinking about white dove Volo, and I found it even more fitting bc those are the birds they use in sleight of hand tricks.

If Irida could do it without killing him, the easiest way to make sure he was doing things like eating right and grooming himself and hopefully even calming down every once in a while, would be to drag him back to the settlement where he'd have people to help him. But she can't. At this point she knows the best thing for him would be for him to go back to wherever he came from, since he arrived in mostly good condition, but she has no way of doing that and is just trying her best. She'd be sad to see him go, but also extremely glad to know that he won't just waste away out in the mountains or get mauled to death or something.

I think it'd be hard for Melli not to notice, especially because he seems to take great care of his own appearance. Compared to Melli, Ingo kind of looks like a stuffed rabbit that was used vigorously as a chew toy until it was raggedy and most of the stuffing had leaked out. He's also one of the few people Melli sees on any regular basis, so whether he wants to or not, Melli's going to be Aware of him. Now as to if he'd help... I don't think he'd go, like, out of his way to help, but he wouldn't deny Ingo help either (though he might gloat while giving it lol). And yeah, I can see him nagging at Ingo to get his act together, that's probably how he shows he's worried and also he'd be legitimately annoyed if something completely preventable happened that then fell on Melli to take care of. The Great Melli is, of course, great art everything, but that doesn't mean he wants to be scraping Ingo's carcass off of the floor of Moonview Arena like he's roadkill just because Ingo didn't eat enough and passed out on the job. He can appreciate the theatrics of a good swoon, but this is taking it a bit far.

Yeah, Emmet is going to have so much work to do to help get them both back on track once he finally gets Ingo back. Because somehow I don't think Ingo is going to be especially helpful. Even if the rift damage was magically fixed and he suddenly got all his memories back (which, let's be real, is unlikely), he'd still have years worth of habitually not taking good care of himself and ignoring things until they boiled over. He'd probably just be getting overwhelmed way easier, while still not doing a lot of the things that would actually help because he's too stressed out, in an environment he's not used to anymore, and it's hard to get back into habits you've long since fallen out of. So Emmet is unfortunately going to having to do some of the heavy lifting for a bit until Ingo can start self-regulating again. Which isn't going to be great for his stress levels, but on the plus side he has the other half of his buddy system back which his instincts appreciate, he no longer has to worry about where Ingo is and miss him, and in general he's just got way more in his reserves than Ingo, who at this point is running on fumes. I assume Emmet has some form of support system too, to help him.

HMM all very good points about mai. the idea of her being considered a lucky animal is very fun, too. i do like the diamond clan having more than one prominent lizard—since the mirelands are probably the warmest climate it would make sense for them to have the most reptiles i think. ...which brings to mind an interesting interaction with ingo, actually, because if they have a lot of cold-blooded or heat-and-humidity-adapted clan members and the rest of hisui is comparatively cold and arid, they would probably know the most about how to adjust to changing climates if the body isn't doing it. once they realize that's like, a major concern, melli might very (very) begrudgingly share some of that knowledge with him.

meanwhile irida... physical distance might not be seen as a punishment but i wonder if being confined to a single region isn't. especially for someone who's a warden, servant to sinnoh's blessed. all of vast hisui created for pokemon and humans, and he can't safely visit like half of it? and irida in particular would be the most hurt by it i think. since they still don't know why he arrived here, but she accepted him, made him warden, he's her friend and confidant, served the clan so dutifully and almighty sinnoh, can't you see you're killing him. what did he do to deserve this?

...honestly a lot of this talk could be applied to canon as well. it's just that specific circumstances make it Worse (or more visible as the case may be)

[beefxalto]

There was a wasp on me. She was very chill and didn’t sting me, so she might’ve been a he. I still screamed and cried like a baby until I shook it off, but it made me think about Attack on Titan, and the shounen genre as a whole.

I hate canon shipping, because it’s almost always two straight characters who have absolutely no business being together but are anyway because the author/the fans want it to happen, and this point is proven no better than in AOT. (I didn’t finish the anime, but this is a discussion area! Feel free to point out if my opinions are unfounded.)

- Exhibit A: Armin x Annie

For the most part, this is a personal grievance of mine because I ship Eren and Armin. The relationship itself is cute, non-toxic, and all-around unproblematic, but did Armin and Annie ever even talk before S4? I know he was yapping at that crystal she was trapped in, but that doesn’t really count as the talking stage. Honestly, my problems with this ship are purely personal and I don’t fight folks who think it’s cute!

- Exhibit B: Reiner x Christa/Historia

This is also a personal thing of mine because I ship Ymir and Christa. There’s just a lot more romance between them (I’m pretty sure Reiner says he wants to marry Christa once and it was Ymir’s dying wish).

- Exhibit C: Eren x Mikasa

This relationship. I literally used their dynamic for a Dead Dove fic because it was genuinely so toxic to me, and I don’t understand how people unironically think they’re cute. Lie to me and say he treated her well. She quite literally devoted her life to him, and she got a raggedy ass man who is constantly going off and doing his own thing without regard to her feelings or even an acknowledgement of her love?? Perhaps you can excuse him joining the Survey Corps despite her persistent warnings, her following him because she knew he would die by himself, AND HIM PROVING HER RIGHT, but she couldn’t at least get a “I love you”? For real??

Eremika stans will tell me that he did love her, and I’m not denying that, but he’s still so wrong for not once reciprocating her feelings (Yes, I know about the scene where he says he doesn’t want to die and wants to live happily with her, but he doesn’t ever say anything even resembling that to her face).

This is a problem in a lot of shounen anime/manga. Two characters who either never had any meaningful onscreen interaction or have an explicitly toxic relationship just end up together because he was a boy and she was a girl and do I need to say any more?? And I won’t sit here and pretend that there are no straight ships that work because there are (Connie and Sasha lowkey had my heart), but when female characters are written to be shallow complements to their male love interest/ally, the romances they have with those men feels just as shallow.

This is also why gay ships can feel more fulfilling and complex than straight ones, because male characters are written to have actual dimension and personality. There’s always more to it than them just being friends or enemies or whatever else is in between. They feel like real people who actually fell in love, and not just characters who were made to pine after each other.

So, next time you think about bashing a gay ship, remember that misogyny is the reason I think Eren Yeager takes it up the booty.