#and free of bugs. though that's almost always a given

[angrybatgaming]

Best merchant ever. Hands down.

Catching up on Fallen Aces before they release the next episode! Can't wait, because this game is so much fun! And the story gets better and better.

Pigeon buddy!!! (You can chuck them at enemies, but I refuse. They're too cute, and are just minding their own damn business!)

Probably gonna get a content warning for this, too, but whatever. Shotguns, as expected, pack a punch and turn enemies into...uh...can't think of a good word for it. Satisfying.

Nightwave's sweet ride, Meredith. I love vintage cars. Way better looking than most of today's vehicles.

Hey, look! It's the whole gang! And look at Nightwave! So young and full of energy. Now he's a grumpy old man who yells at you for killing people at a crime scene and for taking stuff that a DEAD MAN ain't gonna miss. >:[ They attacked me first, Nigel!

You can find comic books about the ACES. So far, I've collected two. Plus a torn, bloody piece for Captain Spade's.

Found the shitting Goon. Poor guy sounded like he was really struggling there. Hope Gianni got paid REAL good for that bit. Lol

Who's drawing comics about Mike!? And making Nightwave look so FUGLY???? (I can assure you, it ain't me. Lol)

Annnnd that's all for now folks! Someone get Mike an ice pack.

[lace-coffin]

Hay, Sugar ~ ✨

Sorry if I bother you but, do you mind if I give you my rq about Billy lenz and Brams heelshire with mommy kink.Fem s/o look at them like babies because every time they do that~ they love sucking on her tits.

Sorry to bother you and thank you ❤️

Slashers with a mommy kink x fem!reader (Nsfw)

Warning for mommy kink, focus on nipple and breast play, humiliation/degradation

Requests are closed (for now!)

You’re no bother at all!! As a lesbian I’m always happy to write or read a mommy kink ; )

Brahms Heelshire

It was really only a matter of time with Brahms, any time spent together curled up on the sofa ended with him suckling on your tits sooner or later.

The first time it happened you hadn’t known what to think. Both of you had settled onto the sofa for the night, throwing on a movie you’d inevitably loose interest in and slumping over eachother. It had been a hard day for the both of you, you heading to the village for home supplies and additional items that weren’t exactly Malcom’s job to bring, and Brahms staying at home trying not to loose his mind whilst you were gone.

Brahms was getting better at keeping his cool when you had to leave, you’d been working on it together, even convincing him to see a therapist on the grounds that it was over the phone and you were present to help him verbalise his thoughts. However healing is an upwards fight and it takes time, so despite making progress the notion of you leaving for long periods of time is still distressing to him.

Needless to say Brahms was a cuddle bug when you returned, meeting you at the door like a lost puppy after padding back and forth past the window waiting for you 20 minutes prior. You had already accounted for this, you knew he’d need some extra love when you returned, picking up some snacks as a treat for him whilst you were shopping. After placating him with soft kisses to his mask and finally detaching him from your waist you convince him to watch a movie.

Not even 15 minutes into the movie Brahms is getting handsy with you, large hands pawing at the hem of your shirt, fingers wiggling under to press against your warm skin. You pretend not to notice and he doesn’t go any further than that for another 20 or so. You know he can’t help himself.

Calloused hands slip under your bra and you let out a groan, biting your lip and finally paying full attention to the man next to you. “You miss me that much baby?” You murmur, scooting closer and speeding things up by pulling your shirt and bra over your head. Even behind the mask you can tell your partner is blushing, tips of his ears a soft pink. Brahms doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of seeing you topless.

You sigh contently as he fully cups your breasts, fitting perfectly in his hands, a squeak of surprise escapes your mouth as a finger glides over your nipple, pinching and pulling, working you up just right. An idea crosses your mind, despite not having brought it up before you know Brahms is game to most things if they involve getting to touch you.

“Brahms?” He slowly looks away from what he was doing and meets your eyes, tilting his head in question. “You wanna try something new?” He visibly perks up at this. “I need to take your mask off for it though, is that ok with you honey?” “Take it off for me?” He asks back. You nod and gently pull it away from his face, setting it on the side table. “There’s my pretty boy” you coo, running your fingers across the puckered burn scars.

A beat passes and you work up the courage to ask. “Do you want to suck on mommy’s tits baby?” An almost pained noise of arousal slips from his mouth, you don’t even get another word out before he’s latching onto your chest, hot tongue laving over your hardened nipple, the other being given attention with his free hand.

“Fuck..just like that, my perfect boy” Brahms whines around your breast in his mouth, hips bucking at the praise. Swapping to the opposite breast he switches to kneading your tits in his other hand. You can already see he’s hard and leaking in his boxers. So cute. You’re equally as needy from all the attention to your sensitive tits, but unwilling to let it end this early in favour of getting off, he looks so lost in it, worshiping your body like a god.

Billy Lenz

Billy isn’t shy when it comes to his sexual wants and needs and with the way his childhood played out it’s no surprise he has a mommy kink, he didn’t stand a chance let’s be honest. Luckily you’re more than eager to indulge him in this, loving the power exchange and the confidence it fills you with, seeing your partner pathetic on his knees, cock needy and wet for you.

Crossing your legs you sit on a deep green velvety chair, bought just for this purpose. It’s ornate and exemplifies your expensive and untouchable aura in this setting. Below you sits Billy, in nothing but his boxers. There’s something thrilling about you being fully dressed whilst he’s stripped at your feet.

Billy isn’t hard to please, letting him rut his leaky cock against your leg as you spit filthy words at him is enough to get him off if you’d be kind enough to allow it. You drop your gaze to him, sickly sweet look on your face, patronising. “Are you close you little freak? Almost cumming in your pants from rutting against me like a dog in heat? That’s disgusting.”

Billy grunts in agreement, words going straight to his cock. You hum, raising your foot to press into the base of his cock, making him squirm. “Use your words, slut.” He pants again, pushing his face into your calf and whining. “Y-yes mommy, I’m disgusting, pathetic..fuck. Gonna cum please-“ you cut him off before he can finish his plead.

“Quiet, come up here and help mommy out and maybe I’ll think about it” you snap back, unbuttoning your shirt and removing your bra, revealing your chest to him and revelling in the way he eyes it hungrily. Billy wastes no time in pulling himself up shakily, plopping down on your lap and attaching himself to your nipple. You let out a gasp of surprise and groan, slipping your hands into his curly chestnut hair and guiding him.

It’s wet and sloppy, saliva cooling slowly on your skin. His tongue is eager and making sure to switch between both nipples. Popping off he gives you a bit of respite, sucking red marks into the meat of your tits that he knows will bruise beautifully tomorrow. “Mmm there we go, that’s what you’re good for isn’t it? Just a slutty little mouth for me?” Billy moans in reply. It’s like he’s in a trance, lost to the sensation and taste of your skin under his teeth and tongue, eyes glazed over and unfocused, only interested in pleasing you and taking as much of you as he can into his enthusiastic mouth.

You could watch him forever, he almost seems content if it wasn’t for the obvious hardness pressing against your thigh, you’ll reward him well for this, after you’ve had your fun that is, you aren’t ready to let him go just yet.

[kedreeva]

on the topic of peafowl play, would/do peafowl enjoy those pet puzzle toys? would they have the patience or interest to complete 1 outside of food motivation? i don't know why but i always imagine peafowl as the brilliant but lazy types and i wonder if that headcanon of mine has any plausibility lol

I gave my peafowl one of those chicken treat puzzles (this one) which they are supposed to peck/scratch at and roll around, which drops scratch grain slowly on the ground and gives them something to do until it is empty. It's basically two yellow bowls bungee-corded together by a single cord on the inside, anchored at that little black nub. You fill one half, and then "seal" it as a ball- but it's not clipped together or anything, just bungee tension holds it together.

I set it down for Aris for the first time, and rolled it so she could see it had scratch in it that would fall out. She pecked it once, examined it for roughly 10 seconds, and then grabbed it by the little black nub, and shook the hell out of it, bursting it open and flinging scratch all over the pen. She dropped it and everyone went about their business eating the scratch.

I taught Eris how to press buttons to "speak" to me; she had a few treat buttons, a food button, a water button, and some Word word buttons like "want" and "Eris" and "yes" and "no." She used them to argue with me and make fun of me for forgetting to put water in her wet food one day.

I gave Bug toilet paper rolls with holes cut in them, stuffed with paper towels and superworms. She learned to pull the paper towel out almost immediately. She gets a bowl of fresh foods when she goes into her pen in the mornings, and it started with me walking in and coaxing or carrying her in. Now she goes and waits on the perch where I put the bowl. I give anything leftover she didn't eat to the barn crew, so when I go to collect her in the evening, Polaris and Opal are usually waiting on the table where I put the bowl.

I bring Artemis indoors to do paintings with her, and she knows the order is indoors->bath->dry off->painting+treats, so if I bring her in, and she gets a bath, and I wait too long in the drying off, she will start scolding me until we start painting.

If I let the birds out of their pens, they get free range time while I'm outside. When I call "hup hup!" loudly and repeatedly, they all start walking back to the coops. Many of them know up commands. Artemis and Bug have both learned to put their trains up if I ask (and that's a no-treat trick, they just do it). Beep knew "ask nicely" when she wanted something (which is what led to me training Eris with the buttons), so she would scrape her beak on me if she wanted something. Beep also played with a lot of different toys.

I guess the point is that they are pretty smart birds, given a chance and good circumstances. They can be incredibly stupid, too, but the majority of them are pretty smart most of the time. But they don't have a lot of patience for things that are not either immediately rewarding or that they choose to focus on. Beep once spent an hour trying to get the button off my jeans, but if you offer Bug a mouse and move it away before she can get it, she'll usually just stop caring. If you give a treat to one bird, they might snub it, but they'll kill a man for it if someone else gets it and acts like it's good.

So COULD they become interested in a pet puzzle and possibly solve one? Maybe? It really just depends on what's in it for them, and/or how interested someone else is, and/or if they think it's their idea. They don't really have a lot of grabbing strength in their beaks, so that factors in, too. They do NOT like to peck hard things.

They DO like to destroy stuff though. If you could make an edible tissue box, they would absolutely lose their shit about it. Every peafowl I've ever owned LOVES tearing tissues out of a tissue box and ripping tissues to shreds to try to eat. Don't know what that's about. Leftover raptor instincts to disembowel things, I guess.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

You're my sweetheart

Of Oak and Ivy, Chapter 8

Series Masterlist         Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader��

summary: Cute little birthday celebration for everyone's favorite guy!

warnings: swearing, sad Matt (as always) but he gets loved on I promise, underage drinking, fluff, Foggy and Bug being adorable friends

a/n: This chapter is sickly sweet so be prepared. I have some super angsty stuff coming though. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Please feel free to reply/reblog/DM, I love feedback!!

w/c: 5.6k

Waking up to a ripple of pain throughout your head and an accompanying twist of nausea in your gut was unpleasant, to say the least. Groaning, you threw an arm over your aching head to block out the sliver of sunlight that had penetrated your thick blinds. As much as you would have welcomed more sleep, the persistent stabbing pain of your hangover was determined to keep you conscious.

Sitting up with a whine, you dug the heel of your hand into your brow, your other hand laying over your uneasy stomach. While last night had been overwhelmingly fun, you’d apparently gone a bit past your limits. You and Oscar had colluded for weeks to plan Jen’s 21st birthday party. You were in charge of food and decorations, Oscar–given that he was of the legal age–had been in charge of purchasing the alcohol. In typical Oscar fashion, he’d gone above and beyond, completely blowing your expectations out of the water.

After a grueling first semester and a chaotic winter break, you hadn’t really tried to be careful. Past-you had been totally fine overdoing it. Current-you was much less ok with that decision. As memories of the night wriggled their way out the sludge that surrounded your brain, your chest constricted with concern. If you weren’t doing well, it was unlikely Matt or Foggy were upright and jovial. Plus, there was a certain matter you needed to discuss.

The conversation was hazy, blurred by the alcohol lingering in your system, but you remembered the important things. As usual, you’d been pretty much glued to Foggy and Matt all night--maybe even more so since Evs wasn't there to put distance between everyone and your awkward, giggly self.

You didn't remember how it came up, but the three of you had started discussing birthdays. Foggy had lamented, saying his wasn't until July, but Matt had gone quiet. After a bit of prompting and a few more drinks, he'd quietly admitted that his birthday was months ago, in October. You and Foggy had screeched in disbelief, chastising him for not saying anything sooner—but the past was the past.

You and Foggy—Matt's only friends—hadn’t celebrated his first real adult birthday. If your own feelings were any indicator, you were sure Foggy was also devastated that he'd missed this. It almost felt like a personal failing.

Though you'd scolded Matt, anyone with a morsel of knowledge about his upbringing or insecurities would know he'd never have told anyone about his birthday unless specifically asked. This was an oversight that you intended to remedy, hopefully Fog did too.

Opening one eye and grasping for your phone, you managed to seize it from your wobbly nightstand before it clattered to the floor. Sliding the device open, you typed the message out at a snail's pace, each press of a key jostling the pulsating knot behind your eyes.

You: U alive?

The sound your phone emitted as the text was sent into the void nearly deafened you. Gripping it to your chest, you collapsed sideways, burying your head into the cool sheets. Your breathing slowed, consciousness ebbing, before a second text tone jolted you awake.

Foggy: barely

Smiling at your friend's parallel misery, you responded.

You: matt there?

Foggy: no. might b dead. will report back.

You: can we chat?

Before you could even comprehend the consequences of what you'd just asked, an ear-piercing verse of Fergie's “Big Girls Don't Cry” blasted through your phone's speaker. Changing Foggy’s ringtone last night didn’t seem so funny anymore.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” You muttered, fumbling for the answer button. With a satisfied groan, you answered the call.

“Damn, you sound worse than I feel.” Foggy's hoarse voice chuckled over the line.

“So many regrets, Fog.” You moaned, squirming around on the bed while you waited for the ringing in your ears to subside. “Did we die? Is this hell?”

“Hey, speak for yourself. My good-christian-self is destined for eternal paradise.” Foggy scoffed.

“Point taken. If I'm still alive in a few hours, can we meet up to discuss our dear Matthew?” You asked, praying to god that your head stop aching with every breath you took.

“Discuss what exactly? Who'll be giving his eulogy when I find him dead in the communal bathroom?” Foggy grumbled. 

“Please tell me that's a bad joke.” You deadpanned.

“He's fine, jitterbug. He left twentyish minutes ago to puke his guts out.” Foggy confessed.

“Gross, Fog.” You grimaced.

”Hey, you asked!“ He protested. 

”I absolutely did not.” You laughed. “Can we meet up later?“

”Oh yah, forgot you asked. What are we meeting about?“ You could picture Foggy’s confused frown as he wondered aloud.

”His birthday, Fog.“ You explained, not quite in the mood to expound on the point.

”Shit, yah we should talk about that. Blue Java at 2?“ He suggested.

”Sounds good. Lower your expectations for my appearance. See you soon.” 

Ending the call, you collapsed back onto your pillows and let your eyes fall shut.

Lifting your eyes marginally as the bell chimed to signal someone's arrival, you felt a weight fall off your shoulders as a noticeably-disheveled Foggy shuffled in. His face was adorned with cartoonishly large, heart-shaped sunglasses; even through your own tinted lenses, you noticed the vibrant cherry red plastic accentuating his pale complexion. His long hair was tangled and greasy, tucked haphazardly behind his ears. Not raising his head more than he needed to, he trudged the few feet from the door to the wobbly table you were seated at, collapsing into a dented steel chair with a groan.

“Hey Fog,” You chuckled hoarsely as dropped his head to the table, shielding his face with his arms.

He grumbled incoherently, not looking up.

Snorting, and immediately regretting it as your head pulsed with a renewed ache, you poked his arm. “C'mon Fog, up and at 'em.”

“No,” Foggy groused, tightening his arms around his head as you continued to prod at him. “I'm mad at you.”

Throat tightening, you withdrew your hand. ”You're mad at me?“

”You dragged me across the city when I feel like utter crap. I think it's warranted,“ Foggy moaned.

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you began jabbing him with your finger again. ”I think you'll get over it. Besides,“

Sliding a large paper cup over to the miserable boy, you forced it into the grip of one of his hands. ”I bought you a large snickerdoodle latte with extra whipped cream and four shots of espresso. That's gotta count for something, right?“

Foggy hummed appreciatively, dragging the cup towards his face as he gradually sat up. ”You're a godsend. I love you.“

”Damn, make up your mind, Nelson.“ You took a sip of your own coffee, briefly contemplating buying another before turning your attention back to your friend and his garish glasses. ”Those glasses look great on you, by the way.“

Foggy snorted, tossing his hair back over his shoulders. ”Why thank you. I found them in the dorm lost and found when I crawled back into the building after trying to brave the day without them.“

”Who would've thought such a fashion statement would happen by accident?“ You giggled.

”I'll have you know it was a deliberate choice to highlight my existing beauty.“ Foggy scoffed, pinching his own cheek.

Shaking your head at him, your tongue felt cemented in place, your brain not quite sure how to voice your concerns about your other friend.

As if he'd read your mind, Foggy dropped his chin to his chest. ”What the hell are we gonna do with him, bug?“

Tracing a finger around the plastic lid of his drink, Foggy looked downright morose, his glasses beginning to slip down the bridge of his nose as he pouted.

Digging your fingers into your brow, you kneaded circles into it to relieve the growing pressure. ”I have no clue, Fog. You really didn't know?“

”No!“ Foggy cried, clearly a bit offended. ”Birthdays are sacred, bug. Sacred! If he'd told me, I'd have...well, I'm not sure what I would have done. But I would have done SOMETHING.”

Nodding woefully, you tried to stifle the frustration building in your chest. “I know that he's probably not used to celebrating, but I can't believe he kept that from us. I don't know whether to be mad at him for not saying anything or mad at myself for not asking.”

“I hear that. Do we just let it slide?”

“Absolutely not.” You protested, your heart squeezing painfully at the idea of simply moving past this. “I actually might have an idea?”

When you hesitated, Foggy waved you on with a limp hand. ”What are you waiting for? It's scheming time!“

Biting your lip as your excitement grew, you launched into the plan your alcohol-soaked brain had cooked up when you fell asleep. Apparently, it wasn't too incomprehensible because Foggy was practically squealing by the end.

”That's PERFECT! How long do we have to prepare?“

”A week?“ You wondered aloud. ”I don't want him to think we've moved on, but we are going to need some time to make the arrangements.“

”Saturday it is. What do you need me to do?“

Grinning at Foggy's eager expression, you shrugged. “I don't know, Fog. What do you want to do?”

“Oh no!” Foggy shook his head, pointing a finger at you sternly. “You're the mastermind here. It's your job to tell me what to do.”

Laughing incredulously, you put your hands up in mock surrender. ”Ok, ok! One question: how are your cake-baking skills?“

Rolling his head in a circle to relieve the crick in his neck, Matt slipped his glasses off so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. He'd been working on this legal research assignment for nearly two hours at this point and it was beginning to irritate him. His brain was too entrenched with other concerns to process the text sitting on his desk--meaning he needed to run his fingers over the same lines again and again in order to even grasp the subject of the material.

Slamming the book closed, he brought a hand up to his scalp, tugging on his hair with a growl. The thud of the book cover falling against coarse paper echoed throughout the empty room, making Matt frown. He wasn't quite sure what Foggy was up to, but it was clear Matt wasn't invited.

A few hours ago, his roommate had started gathering up his belongings and bundling up without a word. When Matt had asked him where he was going, Foggy had clammed up. Though Matt wasn't able to see it himself, he was confident the other man had been wearing a classic ”deer in headlights“ expression. The combination of his startled tone and scrunched face could only mean one thing:  Foggy was hiding something from him.

It was driving him up a wall. Listening to his best friend stammer out some shitty lie about needing to borrow a book from the library had to be one of the worst experiences of Matt's adult life. Foggy was such an honest person, hearing his heartbeat waver with deceit just felt so...wrong. It made him nauseous, in the same way the sound of styrofoam rubbing together did.

Swallowing around the emotions clogging his throat, Matt wet his lips. The more he thought about it, the more logical his anxieties seemed.

Foggy had been increasingly distant all week, and Matt had no idea why. The other man still spent time in their room, but it was limited, and it always felt like he was ready to bolt if Matt asked the wrong question. He'd come home at odd hours for the past three days, reeking of your familiar sweet perfume.

Despite Foggy's inability to admit to it, he'd been spending time with you--and Matt had not been invited.

When Matt had mentioned it to you, you'd waved off his concerns and quickly changed the subject, leaving him thoroughly confused. Both of you were dancing around a massive elephant whenever Matt was in the room, which was infuriating.

He'd thrown himself into their latest legal writing assignment in an attempt to think about anything other than the inevitable end of his two longest friendships, but he couldn't even manage to do that right. Which was odd because his routine this semester revolved pretty heavily around studying on Saturday afternoons.

Suddenly, he was struck by another wave of dread. Was this what the two of you refused to tell him? Was he holding you back from the true ”college“ life filled with underage drinking and loud music by being too concerned with your combined studies? Did you both find his insistence on staying in so unbearably annoying that you'd taken to making plans without him?

Shaking his head to rid himself of the intrusive thoughts, he inhaled deeply. No. That's not what was happening, he would have smelled the liquor on Foggy. Plus, you never seemed to mind spending a night in with him rather than going out on the town.

Allowing himself to get lost in his own thoughts, he didn't notice the familiar sounds of his roommate returning to their room. At the sound of the door opening, he jumped—ramming the rickety desk chair into the desk with a bang as he tried to turn around.

”Jeez, it's just me buddy, no need to have an aneurysm.“ Foggy chuckled, lingering by the door until Matt regained his bearings.

”Sorry,“ Matt muttered, snatching his glasses from the desk and slipping them on.

”No need to apologize, Matty.“ Foggy responded cheerfully, launching himself onto his bed with a small grunt. ”I should've said something before I came in. What if you'd been with a lady?“

At Foggy's mock-gasp, Matt could feel his sullen resolve dissipating. He snorted, his lips twitching as he fought back a smile. “It's 3pm on a Saturday, Fog. Why would I bring a girl back here?”

Throwing his hands up in the air, Foggy twisted to give Matt a look. “Last week you took a girl home from Sunday Brunch at Tom's, Murdock. There's no telling what the handsome duck will do on a given day.”

A laugh burst out of Matt's lips against his will. Shaking his head, he let himself smile. “You told me to talk to her!”

“Uh yah, because she was making googly eyes at you and I'm a fantastic wingman. C'mon man, keep up!” Foggy smirked.

With a snort, Matt collapsed onto his own bed, letting his face fall towards Foggy's. “You are a fantastic wingman. I should be more grateful.”

“Damn right.” Foggy's grin was evident, the sound of his happy heart a welcomed thud in Matt's ears. The absence of Foggy's noisy self had filled their shared space with a stifling, uneasy silence. Now that the quiet had ended, Matt finally felt like he could breathe again.

”Matt, buddy?“ Foggy's direct question snapped him back to reality.

”Huh?“

Chuckling, Foggy shuffled over to Matt's bed, sitting beside him. ”Fallin' asleep on me, Murdock? I'll have you know, I am RIVETING company.”

“'M not falling asleep.” Matt protested, somewhat unbelievably as his eyes remained closed.

“Sure, sure. Tell that to the cartoon letter Z's coming out of your head, dude. I asked if you wanted to get dinner later?”

Foggy's hands twisted around each other, preventing his usual animated gestures. Matt's mattress shifted as his roommate wriggled uncomfortably. Anxiety was cascading off the long-haired man's shoulders, reigniting the dread in Matt's stomach.

Flipping to face the wall, Matt drew his knees towards his chest and away from his roommate's seated form. “Sure, Fog. whatever you want.”

Patting Matt's leg, Foggy's posture drooped with relief. “Great! You have a good nap and I'll wake you up when we have to leave.”

Giving his friend an indifferent thumbs up, Matt squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to stop the tears from falling.

A handful of restless hours later, Matt's jaw was tight as he and Foggy walked across campus to meet you for dinner. Rather than allowing Foggy to guide him, as he'd grown accustomed to, he'd opted for walking alone with his cane. Foggy seemed a bit hurt, but didn't argue. As they closed in on the agreed upon meeting place, Foggy was practically skipping with nervous energy.

While you were still a few blocks away, Matt had focused on your pulse the minute he picked up on it. It was stuttering and unsteady, just like Foggy's–which did nothing to calm his nerves. Hearing Foggy's jacket rustle as he waved to you, Matt tried for a smile, though he was sure it wasn't very convincing.

“Hey guys!” You greeted, jogging over to them. “Long time no see!”

“VERY long time.” Foggy laughed nervously. “Barely remember who you are, actually.”

You snorted, pulling Matt into a hug despite his rigid posture. “Hey trouble. I missed you this week.”

Melting into your embrace, Matt tucked his nose into your scarf, relishing the scent of vanilla and light floral perfume that coated the accessory. You'd missed him. The thought of you valuing his presence enough to notice the absence of it after a few days warmed his heart.

“Missed you too, sweetheart.”

Unraveling your arms from around his waist, you slid a hand into his elbow and squeezed gently. “Everything ok? You two seem tense.”

“Tense? Pfft, never. I'm great. Best I've ever been, even. Off to dinner with my two friends, the three musketeers. Nothing could be better.” Foggy rambled aimlessly, twiddling his thumbs.

Letting Foggy's words hang in the air for a moment, you made a strangled noise, tugging Matt backwards as your footsteps stopped. Resting a hand on Matt's forearm, you chuckled. “Fuck, he's been like this all day, hasn't he? No wonder you seem stressed.”

Gawking, Foggy started to sputter out an excuse but you ignored him, continuing to speak to Matt as if you two were alone. “Don't fret, bubs. He's just nervous he'll ruin the surprise.”

“Surprise?” Matt wondered aloud, “What surprise?”

“Yah, bug. What surprise?” Matt could practically hear Foggy staring daggers at you.

“Fog, look at him. He's freaking out.” You observed, frowning at Matt's tight jaw and scrunched brow.

“I am not.” Matt blushed, ducking his head as he felt your eyes roaming over his face. Your ability to read him like a picture book never ceased to unsettle him.

“Sure, trouble. Let's just finish our walk and all this anxiety will be over, ok?” You bumped your hip against his, ignoring his attempt to maintain his suave image. “Don't let Fog scare you, he's just worried he'll lose the bet.”

“I am not!”

“You are too. We both know how dangerous your loose lips can be.” Placing your free hand on Matt's bicep, you turned your attention back to the dark-haired boy. “Promise he didn't say anything to you?”

“I am absolutely clueless.” Matt confirmed.

“Ha! I told you I could keep it a secret.” Foggy boasted.

“We'll see, Fog. We aren't there yet.” You reminded him.

“It's not MY fault I'm so eager to tell him. He's my best friend!” Foggy pouted.

“Which is why we made the bet as extra motivation, Fog.” You chuckled.

“You guys know I'm still here, right?“ Matt asked nervously, feeling too similar to a cow being led to slaughter for his liking.

Foggy threw an arm around his shoulders in lieu of a response, leaning forward to direct his next comment at you specifically.

“You do know where we're going right? Because this feels a lot like walking in circles.”

Matt could practically hear your eye roll. “You know, next time we plan something, you can pick the venue.”

Foggy tossed his far hand into the air. “Hey, I'm not judging.”

“Tell that to your judging tone, Nelson. You're giving me second thoughts and it's a bit late for that.” You teased. “And I'd like to remind you, I was pretty hungover when we planned this.”

“So WAS I!”

Matt let your playful bickering wash over him, feeling the start of a smile playing on his lips.

The walk to your destination wasn't far, only a few blocks, but the combination of the blistering wind and aching cold made it feel like an eternity. Matt was relatively familiar with the campus, but you were walking past the buildings he was familiar with towards a less populated corner of the college. It's not that he wasn't ok exploring an unfamiliar area of Manhattan, it just didn't help his growing confusion about the situation the two of you were keeping from him.

After the 8 block stroll, which Foggy complained about thoroughly, you reached the Northern edge of Columbia. Standing on the cracked sidewalk, Matt could feel the campus fighting with the rest of the city–the sounds of screaming college students competing with blaring horns and shrill whistles just one block over. The sounds were slightly muddled by the brick building you'd stopped at, echoing off opposite walls and ricocheting in all directions.

“Are we finally here?” Foggy groaned, voice muffled by the scarf he'd tucked over his nose and mouth in, what Matt assumed, was a futile attempt to keep warm.

“Matty, remind me to stop inviting Fog to things.” You quipped, knocking solidly on a locked metal door as Foggy gasped in offense.

The thick steel entrance was quickly unlatched by a man, whose deep voice Matt didn't recognize, halting your and Foggy's renewed bickering.

”Thanks Josh!“ You squeezed the man's shoulder before stepping through the threshold and into the strange building. ”Right this way, gentlemen!“ You called over your shoulder to your friends who hurried to take shelter from the winter chill.

Once inside, Matt's shoulders relaxed as the tension seeped out of them. Escaping the awful cold was a welcomed relief, and, on top of that, the unfamiliar space was immensely…quiet. 

The surrounding walls were thick and much better suited to keeping city noise out than any of the other academic buildings he'd walked through. Sound-proofed maybe? His practiced ears could still hear screeching tires and pounding club music, but the noises were unusually faint–as if his ears were covered with a hundred layers of spun cotton.

Inside the building, soft classical music was playing. Perfectly tuned string instruments sang brilliantly with the accompaniment of expert percussionists. It was peaceful in a way Matt hadn't experienced since listening to the St. Agnes choir rehearse as a child.

Letting his mind get lost in the melodies drifting through the hallways, Matt absently felt you take his arm, guiding him up a few sets of stairs and into a carpeted room. The scent of burning candle wax and sugar filled his nose, and he could feel Foggy's excitement peaking.

”Happy belated birthday, buddy!” His roommate clapped him on the back, ushering him into a seat as you fiddled with what must have been a window lock.

“What?” Matt asked, truly perplexed as Foggy uncorked a bottle of wine and poured three glasses. His birthday? How did you two even– Oh god. A hazy memory ran through his mind; a confession falling off his inebriated lips. Shit.

“You didn't think we'd forgotten that little tidbit, did you?” You teased, cranking a wobbly handle and unsealing the window. With a quiet 'pop', the window burst open and music flooded the room. “There we go! Let me know if it's too loud, trouble.”

Matt's throat was clenched as he truly took in his surroundings. Though he'd never been, he assumed, based on the context clues, that he was listening to the orchestra practice from somewhere in the music building. He wasn't quite sure how you and Foggy had discovered this space, or gained access to it, but he wasn’t going to question your combined wills. “You did this...for me?”

“Course we did, bud! Birthdays deserve a celebration!!” Foggy explained, pressing a glass of sparkling wine into his hand.

“We got sandwiches from the corner deli, champagne from the market, a cake from Silver Moon bakery, and,” You pulled up a chair beside Matt, squeezing his arm as you sat down. “We get to listen to the Orchestra's rehearsal for their ballet next week!”

Matt opened his mouth to say something, hopefully expressing his immense gratitude in the process, but the words refused to form. Swallowing a gulp of the sweet bubbly drink, he fought back the urge to cry.

“Do you like it?” Foggy asked eagerly, his eyes burning holes into Matt's forehead as he tried to read the blind man's reaction.

“I–I love it.” Matt murmured, eyes stinging with tears. “You didn't have to go through so much effort–”

“Oh stop,” You waved off his customary guilt, bumping his shoulder with your own. “We wanted to, bubs. You deserve to have a good birthday. Next time, maybe even in the correct month.”

Matt chuckled weakly at that. “Thank you both. I—I’m sorry for not saying anything last semester…” Trailing off, Matt debated whether to be brutally honest about his upbringing. A warm palm was placed over his hand, which you then squeezed encouragingly. 

“If you want to tell us, we’re here to listen.” Was your soft reminder. 

“We love you, dude. We just want you to feel comfortable with us.” Foggy explained, knocking a knee against Matt’s. 

“I do, I swear! I just…I haven’t celebrated my birthday since my dad passed. I don’t think the nuns even knew that it was in October.” Matt snorted, his small laugh tinged with bitterness. “I didn’t want to bother you both by asking for something, I guess.” 

“Oh, Matt.” Foggy says mournfully, scooching his chair closer to the dark-haired boy. 

“You deserve to be celebrated, trouble.” You remarked, fingers dancing in your lap to the rhythm of the music. “And don’t think this belated party absolves you of one for this coming October. This was a backlog situation.” 

Foggy raised his glass. “I’ll drink to that.” 

Downing the small portion of alcohol, he grimaced. “Oh my god! This is awful.”

“It’s the best I could do! Oscar is out of town.” You lamented, coughing on your own swallow.

Matt smiled. “Maybe you two are just weak.” 

You both scoffed at that, immediately pouring yourselves more to drink. 

The sandwiches were decent, as always, but the cake was phenomenal. Chocolate sponge filled with a rich ganache and covered in vanilla whipped cream. Though Matt loved dessert as much as the next person, it could be hard for him to find things that weren’t filled with chemicals, way too much sugar, or–god forbid–non-edible items that warranted a health code violation. Not only had the two of you managed to find a cake that he enjoyed, but he had a sneaking suspicion that it was not just a lucky guess. 

The two of you truly knew him.

A month ago, maybe even a week ago, he would’ve been terrified. All the lessons Stick had taught him, the main reason he hadn’t formed any lasting relationships in his two decades on Earth, had boiled down to one principle: proximity to others is dangerous. But you and Foggy had proven his former mentor wrong. Matt’s life had improved significantly since he’d set foot on Columbia’s campus, all because of the two of you and your massive hearts. 

Placing another forkful of cake into his mouth, Matt was suddenly giddy with gratitude. The champagne undermining his ordinarily reluctant subconscious and revealing the immense love that he held for the two of you. By the time you’d all demolished the food, his limbs had been warmed by the alcohol. 

“At least you know Fog will never find another best friend behind your back, Matt.” You giggled, bringing him back to the present as you drained the bubbles from your glass. “He wouldn’t be able to hide that from you.”

“You make it sound like he’s my paranoid spouse or something!” Foggy laughed.

“Paranoid?” Matt gasped. “Who told you!”

“Uh oh, you’re in the doghouse now, Nelson!” You beamed, licking icing from your fork. “You shouldn’t speak ill of your wife like that.”

“Ok, first of all,” Foggy raised a hand. “He’d clearly be the husband in this scenario.”

“Clearly.” Matt jested, rolling his eyes to you. 

“Second of all,” Foggy spoke over him. “Matt has made it very clear that he is not interested in legalizing our profound bond.”

As Foggy broke off into fake sobs, you gasped and Matt cackled. “Matthew! Why would you turn down such a marvelous offer?” You scolded, standing to give Foggy a wobbly hug as his dramatized reaction gradually slowed.

“I know why,” Foggy sniffled, shifting his body away from Matt with a pout. “It’s because of my inadequacy.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Fog?” Matt chuckled, crossing his arms as he waited for Foggy to reveal the punchline.

“I can't—can't...” Foggy stammered emphatically. Rubbing circles on his back, you frowned in exaggerated concern, your breath stifled as you tried desperately not to laugh.

“It's ok, Fog. This is a safe space. You can tell us anything.” You reminded the blond, clearly in as much anticipation as Matt was.

“I can't DANCE!” Foggy cried, collapsing to the ground in a heap. “And heaven will burn before Matthew Murdock marries someone who would step on his toes.”

You and Matt erupted into boisterous laughter as Foggy stuck his nose into the air. “It's true. Tell her, Matt. Tell her about my left feet!”

Still giggling, Matt shook his head. “Fog, I'm blind! You've taken a whole semester of modern dance! If anyone has two left feet it's me.”

Jumping to his feet a bit unsteadily, Foggy swept an arm across the room, beginning to slow dance by himself. “Woe is me!” He cried with a forcibly shaky voice. “No partner to dance with!”

“I'll dance with you, Fog. You poor thing,” You cooed, squealing in delight as Foggy grasped your hand and spun you towards him.

Matt beamed as he heard the two of you swaying to the rhythm of the music playing throughout the building. Foggy was humming softly along and you were attempting to get your tipsy limbs to obey the commands your brain was sending.

“Ok, I'm getting way too dizzy. Time to cut in, Murdock!” You chuckled, plopping down into your seat as Matt stood from his.

“Gladly!” Matt smirked, yelping as Foggy yanked him forward and positioned his hands on the long-haired man's own hips.

“I'm confused, aren't you leading?” Matt questioned, body going slack as Foggy began to twirl them around.

“I'm trying! Pick up your damn feet, dude!” Foggy scoffed, kicking Matt's shoe lightly.

“Then why are my arms underneath yours?”

“Because I'M the WIFE!”

“But you have to lead!” Matt shot back, still chuckling.

“Ugh, forget it. It'll never work between us, dear Matthew. Remember me when you dance with your bride on your wedding day.” Foggy clapped him on the back, curtseying before stepping away. ”Farewell, sweet prince!“

Shaking his head as Foggy strode away, Matt turned his attention to you, smiling rougishly. “Hmmm, it seems I'm in need of a new partner. Care to dance with me, sweetheart?”

Shrieking with laughter, you attempted to make your escape by darting around your chair, but Matt snatched you around the waist, pulling your hips towards his.

“I'm no Franklin Nelson, Matty. I'll trip over you!” You protested, weakly trying to squirm out of his grip, smile still gracing your lips.

“I don't mind, bug. If you want to give it another shot, that is.” Matt loosened the hold he had on your hips, allowing you to refuse if you truly wanted to, but you remained mere centimeters from him.

“S-sure, Matty. How do I...” You flexed your fingers, unsure of where to place your hands.

“Fog?” Matt called to his roommate, grinning when the blond rushed over in a huff to 'correct their form'.

With your hands linked around his neck, and his palms pressed gently against your hips, Matt inhaled deeply as he focused on the tempo of the song currently playing. Swishing the two of you from side to side, Matt stepped carefully in a waltz motion, the very one he'd heard Foggy practicing night after night during the slow dancing unit of his class.

His movements weren't nearly as confident as Foggy's but you seemed pleasantly surprised, letting him move you around the room with a bit less force than your other friend had. Tilting into him slightly, you huffed out an exhale.

”Dizzy?“ Matt asked quietly, hearing your eyelids flutter closed.

”Drank too fast, I think.“ You reasoned, scrunching your nose as the ground continued to spin beneath you.

”C'mere, sweetheart.“ Matt clasped his hands behind your lower back, tucking your head under his chin as he slowed his movements. ”Need to sit down?“

”No,“ You sighed, nuzzling into the junction of his neck and shoulder. ”This is better.“

”I'm glad.“ Matt murmured, pretending not to feel Foggy staring daggers into his back.

Humming appreciatively, your thumb rubbed over his nape. ”You smell nice, Matty.“

Huffing out a laugh, Matt battled the urge to plant a kiss to your crown. ”So do you, sweets. Thank you for a great birthday.“

”Of course.“ Your thumb continued to stroke small lines over his neck. ”You deserve it.“

Withdrawing slightly from your embrace, Matt craned his neck towards where his other friend was finishing the last dregs of the champagne. ”Thank you too, Fog. I appreciate you both so much.“

”We love you too, buddy.“ Foggy smiled, stepping over the spread of food to help remove you from Matt's side.

Gently sliding you into a seated position on the carpet, Foggy sat to your left, prodding you until you nestled back onto Matt's shoulder to your other side. Plucking a fleece blanket from the floor, the blond wrapped it around the three of you cozily.

”There we go. Everyone warm enough?“ Foggy asked. You nodded sleepily as Matt hummed his assent.

Tapping his fingers to the steady beat of the percussionists below, Matt closed his eyes, smile never falling from his face. 

Taglist: @eugene-emt-roe @abbyhaslongshorts @mrs-bellingham @abucketofweird @yeonalie @jadeunstablexx @spider-murdock @0ctober-writes @danzer8705 @mattmurdockstateofmind @supervoldejaygent @dorothleah @zomtart @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @rev-glut @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04 @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002

[sequinsmile-x]

I Knew You'd Linger Like a Tattoo Kiss - Head Kisses

-x-

A series of unrelated one-shots and mini fics about the many types of kisses Aaron and Emily share.

-x-

Hi friends,

Here's another one of these prompts to wrap up the week. This is just soft, with a touch of mommy issues because I can't help myself.

Please see the masterlist for a full list of tags, and the list of prompts for this series.

-x-

Words: 2k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily tried to avoid one-on-one time with her mother as much as possible. It was easier to do since she’d had Samuel, the 18-month-old and Jack both excellent distractions for Elizabeth when she came over to the house, her love for her grandsons obvious whenever they were together. 

On her worst days, Emily envied her mother's relationship with Samuel and Jack. The easy way she showed her love for them, the affection Emily had to earn when she was young given away as if it was free. It was nothing but proof to her that Elizabeth had always been capable of it, but had prioritised different things when she was young. 

She’d tried to get out of lunch with her mother, not entirely in the mood to be her best self after a rough night with Samuel. He was sick, the 18-month-old refusing to sleep and crying if he was anywhere but in her arms, so she and Aaron had barely slept as they took turns to soothe him. She’d almost called her mom to tell her she couldn’t make it, but Aaron had encouraged her out of the door, reminding her if she didn’t do it now she’d just have to rearrange it after a week of building herself up to it. She’d kissed him goodbye, whilst grumbling about his need to always be so damn sensible, and she’d made her way to her mother’s favourite restaurant. 

The first thing she does when she arrives is order the biggest coffee she can, wanting to make sure she is as alert as she possibly could be. She’s barely sat down for 5 minutes when she hears her mother’s voice echoing around her.

“Emily,” she exclaims, stamping a kiss on each of Emily’s cheeks as she stands to greet her, “It’s good to see you,” she says, frowning as she pulls back, “Are you okay? You look exhausted.” 

She suppresses an eye roll and clenches her teeth, wondering if it is too early to order a glass of wine, “Thanks, Mom,” she says as she takes her seat again, “Sammy is sick so we had a rough night.”

“Oh no,” Elizabeth says as she sits down, “Is he okay?” 

Emily nods, “He’ll be fine, it’s just a bug Jack brought home from school. He’ll be okay in a day or two. He’s all about me when he’s sick though,” she says, unable to pretend she didn’t enjoy all the extra snuggles from her toddler who was seemingly always on the go these days, “So Aaron tried to help but I was up most the night.” 

Elizabeth raises her eyebrows, “Well, if you didn’t coddle him so much he’d manage just fine I’m sure.” 

She sucks in a deep breath and smiles tightly, knowing that the only way to stop herself from biting at the bait offered to her was to change the conversation. “How are you, Mom? How’s work?” 

Her technique works, just as it always did, and she sits back and half listens as Elizabeth talks about work and the embassy. She checks her phone to make sure Aaron hasn’t attempted to contact her, and she smiles at the picture of Samuel and Jack that she has set as her wallpaper, the two of them giggling at something Aaron had said. 

“You’ll never guess who I saw - Steve Clemente.” 

Emily frowns, “Who?” 

Elizabeth rolls her eyes, “Really, Emily. You’ve met the man at my Christmas party the last few years. He’s the President over at Primrose Academy.” 

She hums and nods, “Of course, sorry,” she replies, sipping her coffee, “I remember now.” 

“Well, I was able to get Samuel on the list for their Preschool programme,” she says, opening up her menu, missing the confusion that passes across Emily’s face, “We’re a bit late but this is why it pays to know people.” 

“Sammy is 18 months old.” 

Elizabeth sighs, “It’s like you’re being purposely obtuse today,” she says, shaking her head as she looks back up at her, “I know how old my grandson is, Emily. But the waiting list for these programmes is 2 years. It’s a very prestigious school.” 

Emily presses her lips together and swallows thickly, preparing herself for an argument, “I appreciate the effort, Mom. But we’re not going to be sending him to private school.” 

Elizabeth’s head snaps up, her eyebrows furrowed as she looks at her daughter, “Excuse me?” 

“When the time comes we’re going to send him to the same preschool Jack went to,” she says, looking around for the waiter, the idea of a glass of wine with lunch more appealing than it had ever been, “It’s a great school.” 

Elizabeth sighs, “Emily, Samuel has the benefit of the Prentiss name-”

“He’s a Hotchner,” she corrects, her smile tight as she stares at her mother. 

“What?”

“Sammy. His surname is Hotchner, not Prentiss.” 

“You’re being obtuse again, I know that too. But you seem to be ignoring the benefits your son has purely from who we are.” 

The waiter chooses that moment to walk over, his smile kind as he starts to ask what they want to drink, a question Emily answers before he’s finished asking.

“Wine, please. A large glass.” 

The waiter clears his throat, looking back and forth between the two of them, “Any particular one, ma’am?” 

“Whichever one is closest.” ___

She smiles as she steps into her house, the tension automatically seeping from her shoulders the second the warmth of home washes over her. She hears cartoons coming from the living room and she walks in to find Jack sitting on the couch, his focus on the television. 

“Hey sweetie,” she says as she leans over the back of the couch and kisses the top of his head, “Are you okay?” 

He nods, barely looking away from his favourite show, “Yeah. How was grandma?” 

“She was…” she scrunches her nose up and blows out a breath, “Grandma,” she smiles at him, “Where are Daddy and your brother?” 

“Upstairs,” he replies, “Dad is trying to get Sammy to nap,” he shrugs at her, “It wasn’t going very well.” 

She laughs and leans down to kiss his head again, “I’m going to go see if I can help,” she says, pushing his hair from his forehead, “We’re upstairs if you need us, okay?” 

“Okay, Mom.” 

She heads upstairs and smiles as she steps into the nursery, love spreading through her chest as she’s met with the image of her husband pacing back and forth, their grumpy toddler in his arms. 

“Come on, buddy. You’ll feel better if you nap.”

“No,” Samuel grunts, rubbing his face against Aaron’s chest.

“Daddy’s right,” Emily says from the doorway, both of them looking at her at the same time, matching expressions on their faces, “You’ll feel better if you nap.”

“Mama!” Samuel exclaims, his lower lip pushed out in a pout as he reaches out for her, scrambling in Aaron’s arms. 

“I’ve got you, baby,” she says, lifting him into her arms and kissing the top of his head, “Mama’s got you,” she looks up at her husband, “You’ve been giving Daddy a hard time whilst I’ve been gone?” 

“Only you have the magic touch, it seems,” Aaron says, kissing the top of her head and then her lips as she tilts her head up, “How was lunch?”

She groans and runs her hand up and down Samuel’s back, “It was as expected,” she grumbles, turning her attention back to their son who was already a little calmer, “You want to get some sleep, sweet boy?” 

“Not tired,” he complains, and Aaron hides a smile, a look in his eyes that lets her know exactly what he’s thinking. 

He gets that from you.

“Well, I am,” she says, kissing his head again as she walks towards the loveseat in the corner of the room, “Why don’t we all just sit down for a little while.” 

“‘kay,” he says, pressing his face against her neck as she sits down. She rests her cheek against the top of his head and rubs circles on his back, knowing it is a surefire way to get him to fall asleep. 

Aaron joins them, his arm around her shoulders, and he pulls her closer, “Want to talk about it?” 

She hums, “She mentioned getting Sammy onto a list for a private preschool.” 

Aaron frowns, “He’s 18 months old.” 

She chuckles, “That’s what I said too,” she replies before her smile slips away, “I made it clear that isn’t what we want but…” she blows out a shaky breath, “But then she made it clear she didn’t agree.” 

He tightens his grip on her, his lips against her hairline as he blows out a slow breath, an obvious attempt to keep his cool, “What did she say, sweetheart?” 

“She said I’m risking my kid's futures for the sake of being stubborn.” 

He clenches his teeth and sighs, stamping a kiss against her head before he replies, “That’s not true, Em.” 

“I know,” she sighs, shaking her head a little as she looks down at Samuel, the little boy halfway to sleep already, “At least I think I do,” she looks up at Aaron and offers a half-shrug, “I don’t know. I hated going to private school, and I want something different for the boys. But we could afford it,” she licks her lower lip, “Hell, we could afford to send half a dozen kids to private school all the way through to high school if we want to,” she raises an eyebrow at him when she watches something spark in his eyes, “Down boy,” she jokes and they share a smile, “We could afford it but…that doesn’t mean we should do it, does it?” 

“Of course not, sweetheart,” he says, tucking some of her hair behind her ear, “We know what’s best for our children, not your mother, or an old friend of hers, but us,” he smiles softly, “And if we want to send Sammy and Jack to public school, or all half a dozen of them,” he winks when she rolls her eyes, “Then we will. And we can change our minds in the future if we want to. But you aren’t doing them a disservice or depriving them of something because you want them to have a different experience to you.” 

She nods, leaning forward and pressing her forehead against his shoulder, “I know,” she says, believing this time, and she blows out a slow breath, “I just never felt like I could be myself at those places,” she says, “All that mattered was getting good grades and being the best,” she sighs contentedly when he kisses the top of her head, “I never want the boys to think that’s all they are good for.” 

“They won’t,” he assures her, kissing her head one more time before he encourages her to look up at him, “You’re an excellent mom, Em,” he says, his smile growing as hers does, “Our boys are lucky to have you.” 

She stamps a kiss against his lips, “They are lucky to have you too.”

He smiles and looks down, shaking his head slightly when he sees that Samuel is fast asleep, “He’s sleeping.” 

She hums and looks at her son, his nose bright red and sore from where he’d been rubbing his fists against it, “Poor baby, was he okay whilst I was gone?” 

Aaron nods, “He was fine, he missed you - but he always does when you’re not here,” he runs his fingers up and down her arm, drawing a soothing pattern as they silently agree to stay sitting there with their son for a while, “So, about this half a dozen kids-”

“Aaron.” 

[jmagnabo92]

trevor and alberta- air kiss ;) Thanks!

This is a little more platonic that I usually try for the kisses, BUT I hope you like it :). If you squint, you can pretend in might become romantic.

***

Trevor might be pouting a bit from not being deemed gentlemanly enough after the tea date with Hetty, Nigel and Isaac.  It’s not that he ever cared about formal courtship and all that, he’s a man from the 90s, that’s not a thing. 

It’s not how it’s done. 

But still, it bugs him to not be enough or to be excluded from the club, essentially. 

And he may or may not be complaining too much to Flower about it because she then offers to teach him proper manners, which, well, given Alberta’s laughter as Flower tells him to bow all the way down to his waist, was not the brightest idea.

“What are you two doing?” Alberta asks through her laughter.

“I’m helping Trevor be a gentleman,” Flower says, excitedly, clapping her hands in her cheerful way.

Alberta covers her eyes with her hands for a second.  “Oh, child, why did you think Flower someone who died in the sixties could help you with the old-timey ways of the 1700 and 1800s?”

Trevor shrugs.  “I – well, she offered.”

“I don’t think showing off your caboose is very gentlemanly.”

“It works for baboons,” Trevor counters.

“Are you a baboon, child?” Alberta counters.

Trevor pouts.  Clearly, he’s not a baboon, but that wasn’t the point.  “No.”

“Good.  Now, perhaps, you should let me guide you.  I was a bit closer in the timeline than Flower.”

“Not by much.”

“Enough.  Especially since she’s all free loving.”

Trevor shrugs.  “That’s just a sixties thing.”

Alberta hums.  “Now, first, gentlemen, which we’re going to pretend you are –”

“Oy!  I’m not going to be insulted; I got enough of that earlier.”

Alberta coughs.  “Fine.  Greetings by gentlemen usually involve an offer of the hand and a hand kiss that is followed with ‘pleasure to see you, my lady’.  No bowing or showing off that caboose of yours.”

“Not true, Alberta,” Flower interjects.  “You still have to bow to kiss it.”

“You can lift it.”

She turns to Trevor and offers her hand.  He does do a slight inclination of a bow but largely lifts her hand and kisses it.

“Pleasure to see you today, my dearest Alberta.”

Alberta chuckles, slightly.  “Cute.”

“I try.”

She smiles and he can’t resist smiling, too. 

“What’s next?”

“Well, then you’d go on a walk or something, so let’s give that a try.”

Trevor laughs, but he does follow through, offering her his arm as they begin to walk down the stairs and outside. 

He and Alberta have always gotten along.  Teasing and chatting about various things – occasionally, they’d veer into definitely not old-timey appropriate conversation and Alberta tells him how they should be more appropriate – only for the conversation to follow the natural part of their dynamic.  It’s easy for them to be themselves, frankly. 

Neither of them ever pretended to be proper.

Still, it was a lot of fun and at the end, Trevor almost forgets that it was a lesson until Alberta says, “Now, you can give air kisses as a goodbye.”

Trevor laughs but complies.  Hugging her and not quite kissing each cheek. 

“Thank you for your time, Mi Lady,” he teasingly says.  “May I inquire about another walk around the lake?”

“You may,” Alberta says, faking a fancy accent.  “Tomorrow at dawn.”

At this, Trevor burst out laughing.  “Not dawn.”

“You’re ruining it, Trev!”

Still laughing, he says, “Be serious.  Dawn?  Nah, gotta break character for that.”

Alberta laughs, too.  “Fair enough.  Still, I enjoyed our walk, though.”

Trevor grins.  “Maybe tomorrow – a little less proper lessons and a little more of just us, as ourselves?  No need to fake being someone we’re not?”

Alberta smiles.  “I like the sound of that.”

She gives him a hug and another not-quite-a-cheek kiss before disappearing inside leaving them both smiling.  It’s nice to have a best friend that understands you.

And something to look forward to when you have eternity.

***

It's playing the game to get more than just bingo!

Hearts are still to do, Lips completed.

OG Post

thanks for the ask :)

[sehtoast]

Pocket Pal (tiny!Homelander x OC)

18+ | 2k | tiny!Homelander, micro/macro, oral sex, he gets wild with it | Fic Directory

These stupid fucking super villains and their stupid fucking gimmicks!

Homelander is the strongest man in the world, and now? Now he’s lost inside of his own suit, tangled up somewhere between padding and fabric that won’t let even a smidge of light filter through.

It’s the sound of squeaky complaints that helps Ben figure out which sleeve he’s caught in.

The web-head arrived just as it happened. Some new villain running around calling herself Minimizer managed to pull a fast one on Homelander, completely shrinking his body.

“I’m going to ram through her fucking skull!” He shrieks, standing stark naked in Ben’s palm. His eyes burn with rage, and his fury increases tenfold when Benjamin giggles.

“Oh man,” the bug chuckles. He marvels at Homelander’s size. He runs roughly the length from the heel of Ben’s hand to the tip of his middle finger– maybe just a bit more. “You’re so tiny…”

“Shut the fuck up!” Homelander bellows, though his voice rings higher to the larger world. “It’s not fucking funny!”

Ben shakes his head, biting back a smile.

“Benjamin, I swear to fucking Christ!”

This was horrible. There was a crowd forming, and he’d fear for his real body being on every screen in the world if not for the way Ben shielded him with cupped hands. Everyone’s getting pictures and videos of his suit piled in the street, of Spidey crouched down, speaking to something in his hands. Any fucking idiot could put two and two together, and now the world will know he’s weak.

Homelander’s fury quells the slightest bit when Benjamin ruffles his hair with his thumb.

“Alright, alright,” Ben relents. He brings his hands to the neckline of his suit, allowing Homelander to crawl inside for the ride. “Look, we’ll get back home and see what the verdict on this is, yeah?”

He grumbles, but agrees. Minimizer had run off anyway, and this was only drawing out the public spectacle. Homelander watches Ben gather his suit and boots, and they take off together.

Dr. Edi, head of the medical ward, checks him over. She finds no humor in his condition, but reassures the both of them that Vought’s records indicate Minimizer’s powers are a temporary effect. Most of her victims are back to normal within five or so days, and all they had to do was wait it out.

There are no reasonable clothes that fit his tiny form, and his eyes burn a fierce red when Ben mentions those Barbie Ken dolls having stuff that might work. In the end, they both realize it’s easier if he just runs around naked.

Homelander’s entire schedule is cleared for his ‘recovery.’ Ben’s as well, especially once Homelander threatened to crawl inside Ashley’s head and piss on her brain if she didn’t free the web-head’s time.

For the duration of his recovery, Homelander rides around on either Ben’s head or shoulder wherever they go. And sure, he can fly, but he finds this much more enjoyable. It’s kind of fun seeing the world from Ben’s point of view, and he likes that he can throw himself entirely on top of his little spider and be held from head to toe. Ben has always doted on him, but he does so especially now that he’s tiny.

Homelander hangs on to Ben’s hair as the web-head makes them dinner. It’s the first time in his life he’s given a shit about cooking, and it’s almost hypnotizing to watch Ben throw everything together and make something out of nothing.

Benjamin makes him a special dish. All of his food is sliced and diced just enough to be workable for his little mouth. Sure, he doesn’t have to eat, but Ben always insists he does anyway. Now was no different, and it stirred something warm in Homelander’s angry little heart to know Ben cared enough to adapt everything for him.

They eat and conversate as if nothing is different. At the end, Homelander floats up to take his spot on Ben’s shoulder, leaning and nuzzling against the side of his neck. Ben thumbs at his tiny shoulder before seeing to the clean up.

The pair had to find a method for Homelander to take showers. Sure, he was tiny, but that didn’t mean he was going to shirk his strict hygiene routines. Flying under the stream of pelting water took more effort than it was worth, and it was far easier to let Ben hold him throughout the process. Scented products became a hell far worse than ever before, and Ben had to use only the special unscented soaps Homelander typically used on himself.

It took a whole debacle to realize Homelander was better off scooping shower product out of Ben’s palm instead of attempting a pea sized squeeze of product.

“Well, you’re definitely clean,” Ben had told him the first time they tried to pour soap into his little hands. Homelander had to be rinsed under the water after the body wash flowed too fast and drenched him. He griped about how humiliating the ordeal was for the rest of the night. If nothing else, at least Ben giving him a fully body massage as he lathered him with his thumbs was near fucking orgasmic.

Ben found that the best solution for drying Homelander after showers was to simply use a blow dryer. Initially, the two tried to just use a washcloth, but it was like attempting to dry off with a king sized blanket. Plus, the sight of Homelander pretending he wasn’t shivering from the cold was pitiful, so Ben picked the next best thing.

He liked it, too. Sitting under the current of warm air, not even caring how messed up his hair got. It felt so fucking nice to just lay back in Ben’s palm and let himself be spoiled endlessly. Lifting his legs so that the air could hit every little crevice on his body, chuckling at Ben’s own laughter at the act.

“I’m starting to think you like being small,” Ben teases as he fans the dryer back and forth.

“Maybe I just like when you spoil me.” Homelander shouts over the whir of the dryer. “Should do it more often. Like, way more often.”

He finds he enjoys sleeping curled up in Ben’s palm at night. It’s warm, and he can hug a finger or two if he’s feeling inclined. Of course, this opens the door for mischief.

It wasn’t a surprise for Ben when he woke to find Homelander humping against his middle finger. In fact, this was exactly what he expected. Wasn’t often Homelander could go a night without sex, and Ben imagined it would be no different now.

Homelander’s little groans were the cutest. They still carried that faint squeakiness that his tiny voice had, and he was certainly unashamed to let them ring free.

“Havin’ fun?” Ben asks with a sleepy smirk. “Can’t believe you got a new boyfriend already.”

“Veeery funny. Homelander leans his head back to stare at his little spider. “I dunno if he’s a keeper, though. Not a single hole on this guy to fuck.”

That earns him a sweet giggle from Ben.

“Lay back, then.” Ben instructs. He watches Homelander position himself just right, then juts out the tip of his tongue to ghost it from sack to tip. He hears Homelander hiss. “Too much?”

Homelander shakes his head and shivers. “More…”

Ben swipes his tongue a second time, laving over him with more pressure. He licks back and forth, feeling Homelander writhe beneath his tongue. It’s messy, and probably looks absolutely ridiculous, but John sings his pleasure louder than in any blowjob in the past.

“O-Oh, fuck!” He gasps, little hips thrusting up against the wet heat. “Mmph, god, so good! D-Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t–” He cries out harshly as he spills, body locking tight and hot as each pulse of pleasure ripples through him. “Don’t s-stop!” He babbles over and over again, thrusting as little spurts of come coat his lower body and Ben’s tongue until he simply lays there limp.

After that night, Ben’s tongue became his favorite thing in the world. Whether that meant his little spider would curl it up into a hole for him to fuck or just simply let him straddle and grind on it, he fucking loved it. It wasn’t uncommon for him to float up and wedge between Ben’s lips, lower body trapped inside paradise itself as he was licked to completion over and over again until Ben’s jaw would hurt.

Even better than that was the time he discovered he could return the favor. It wasn’t hard to slink down Ben’s sleeping body and find just what he was looking for. He embraced Ben’s clit, licking the head of it on one side while rubbing his palm over the other. He felt every throb, heard every little clench around his love’s gathering arousal as he worked. Once that nub was finally nice and hard, he made his way inside Benjamin’s cunt.

What a gift it was to be able to writhe around in his slick, touching his walls, licking them, grinding against them. He was snug inside and used his flight powers to fuck his body in and out of the warm canal. Each time, he rubbed his palms flat against Ben’s sweet spot.

He could hear Ben groaning and could tell he was beginning to squirm in his sleep. He planned to finish the job before the sunlight could wake Ben first. Homelander increased his pace, fucking back and forth, body utterly drenched in arousal. The glide of his body against Ben’s walls stimulated him, and he found himself coming hard when Benjamin’s cunt finally pulsed around him, squeezing him so deliciously.

A hand was there to greet him when he slipped free, lifting him like a naughty kitten to be scolded for such mischief.

Though he actually received praise instead, much to his satisfaction.

By the end of the fifth day, he was back to being upset about his stature. It must have been at least every hour that he–

“It should have fucking worn off by now!” He says with wide eyes. “What if I’m stuck like this? Jesus Christ, what if I’m like this for the rest of my life!?”

Ben shushes him, thumbing softly at the top of his head. “Worrying is just going to make it worse, Johnny.” He coos sweetly. “I’m sure things like this are gonna be case by case, y’know?”

“Bring me back to the med wing,” he orders. “She has to fix this or–”

“She can’t, babe. Remember?” Ben settles his open hand behind where Homelander sits on his chest, wordlessly offering for him to lean back. “It’s gonna have to happen naturally, okay? She said it’s always been temporary.”

“D’you have any idea how fucking humiliating this is?” He seethes.

“I mean…” Ben arches a brow. “Kinda? I guess?”

“No,” he points accusingly, “you don’t. So stop acting like this is nothing to worry about!”

Ben merely lets him continue on his tirade as they lay on the couch together. Sometimes Homelander just needs to have a tantrum, and this is no different. The TV fills the spaces between his rants until he simmers down and sits grumpily with his arms crossed.

He grumbles, but eventually drags Ben’s hand to lay overtop of him for warmth.

They end up sleeping there for the night, and it’s peaceful until, out of nowhere, Benjamin is roused from his rest by a sudden pressure on his body. His eyes open in shock, ready to deal with an attack, only to be met with relief.

There, sleeping peacefully, is John, full sized and back to normal. He seems to have not even noticed the shift in his sleep, but is certainly elated when Ben wakes him.

“Finally!” Homelander grins, still stark naked and proud as a peacock. “Now,” he says, grasping Ben’s hand, leading him toward the bedroom. “We got some lost time to make up for, and you deserve a little something for helping me out.”

Much as he was thrilled to see John back in good spirits, Ben admittedly was going to miss his pocket pal.

Ah, well. Minimizer’s still out there, right?

Who’s to say there’s never gonna be a next time?

[xxventiswindblumexx]

can i get smut headcanons or a one shot for Invader Zim?? I’ve been looking in the dark web (wattpad and tumblr😔) and can’t find any :(

feel free to take your time, and stay hydrated and healthy!

Ofc! There is a lack of Zim content 😭 I written a one shot for Zim! Been awhile but hope I'm still as good 🥺

Fem! Reader x Zim

⚠WARNING⚠:Abduction, Ovipositor, breeding, Eggs, Smut

Zim skulked around his laboratory, his large, crimson eyes narrowed as he scanned his control panel with a devious focus. A recent wave of human interactions had sparked a new curiosity in him: “pairing” was something entirely foreign to Irkens. They were made for conquest and war, with no distractions or attachments. And yet, he saw it in humans everywhere—such bonds, so distractingly nonsensical, so… intriguing. How had these Earthlings managed to thrive with so much… emotion?

And then there was you.

Zim had observed you with interest, though you were quite unlike that Dib human with his ridiculous obsession with proving Zim’s “alien-ness.” No, you were different. Your fascination with extraterrestrial life was genuine, without that irritating need to capture or expose. It was peculiar, almost foolishly open-minded… but it had given him an idea.

“Gir!” Zim called out, his voice sharp but with a hint of excitement. Gir appeared out of nowhere, somersaulting into view with his usual enthusiasm.

“Yes, my lord?” Gir squeaked, holding a taco he’d somehow acquired without leaving the base.

“Prepare the ship!” Zim declared, his eyes gleaming. “We have a mission of… abduction!”

Gir’s eyes sparkled. “Ooooh! Abduction! Who we grabbin’, Zim? Is it the big-headed boy?” he asked, bouncing up and down.

“No, no, no!” Zim scowled, gesturing wildly. “This human isn’t a pest like Dib! This one… this one actually seems to like aliens!” He hissed the last word as if it were the strangest revelation in the world.

Gir gasped, his eyes widening. “They like aliens?” He threw his arms around Zim in excitement. “Yay, new friend!”

Zim pushed him off, huffing in irritation but unable to hide a smirk. “Yes, yes! Now, enough hugs! We must do this with precision and stealth!” He climbed into his tiny spaceship, Gir clambering in beside him, still clutching his taco and humming with glee.

Moments later, you were standing in your room, stargazing through your window, unaware of the ship descending toward your neighborhood. You’d always loved the idea of life beyond Earth, imagining what otherworldly beings might be like. But as Zim’s ship hovered silently above your house, you would soon realize that reality was much stranger than anything you could have imagined.

Before you knew it, a soft green light engulfed you, lifting you gently off your feet. Your heart raced, a mix of terror and excitement flooding your senses. This was it! A real alien abduction!

As you ascended toward the ship, you could just make out a tiny green figure with large, bug-like eyes and a big, gleeful smile—accompanied by an even smaller robot in a dog costume, waving excitedly at you.

“Welcome, human!” Zim announced triumphantly, his voice echoing dramatically. “You are now in the presence of ZIM! Fear not! I have no intentions of dissecting you… yet!”

Gir skipped around you, giggling uncontrollably. “Hi! Do you like tacos? Can we be best friends?”

Zim groaned. “Gir, compose yourself! We have a mission of SCIENCE!” But he couldn’t help glancing at you with curiosity, taking in your surprised but delighted expression. Humans were strange indeed—but maybe, just maybe, this one would help him understand them.

The base was strangely quiet as Zim guided you into a sterile-looking room, dimly lit by a few screens blinking erratically on the walls. He moved with an almost uncharacteristic calm, but his crimson eyes were alight with that manic curiosity that you’d seen in him before.

“Sit there, human,” he commanded, gesturing toward a peculiar-looking chair. You hesitated, noting the odd assortment of machinery surrounding it, each piece connected to the chair by tangles of wires. Zim’s expression held an unsettling intensity as he fussed with a few dials, muttering to himself, “Fascinating… so very odd, these humans…”

When he glanced back at you, his tone softened, though his voice still carried a slightly condescending lilt. “You should be honored, human! You are about to assist ZIM in unlocking the mystery of human ‘pairing’… and whatever purpose it may serve.”

He leaned in, examining you with those unnervingly bright eyes, his face far too close for comfort. “Humans are curious creatures… forming attachments for no strategic purpose, no tactical advantage,” he said, as if the concept itself was a foreign toxin. “And yet—there is something to it, isn’t there? These attachments… these connections you cling to.”

The alien strapped an odd, dome-shaped helmet over your head, wires dangling from its sides, some with tiny electrodes that pressed lightly against your temples. As he adjusted the helmet, he continued his monologue, almost to himself. “You Earthlings cling to each other, not because you are forced to… but because you want to. And I, the all-powerful Zim, intend to understand it.”

He adjusted a monitor beside the chair, the screen casting a soft glow over his face. “Prepare yourself, human! Zim shall now probe the depths of your mind.” His words would’ve sounded threatening if it weren’t for the strange fascination in his voice, as though he himself was teetering on the edge of some grand revelation he didn’t quite grasp.

With a flick of his clawed finger, Zim activated the machine. You felt a soft hum, a gentle pulsing of light from the monitor. The screen before him began to flash images—scenes of people embracing, holding hands, sharing close moments. As each image blinked by, Zim’s expression shifted from smug triumph to bewilderment.

“These… interactions…” he muttered, eyes narrowing. “Why would a creature seek such vulnerability? Why rely on… on another for comfort?” He practically spat the word, as if he couldn’t comprehend its meaning, and yet… something in his expression softened. His gaze flicked from the screen to you, eyes probing, intense. “Explain it to me,” he demanded, though his voice was quieter than before. “Why does your kind… choose this?”

The screen continued its cascade of images, and for a fleeting moment, Zim’s façade of unbreakable ego faltered. You could see the alien’s frustration—yet also a trace of reluctant curiosity, as if something in him was drawn to this strange phenomenon, against his own programming.

To make the setting feel more intimate while keeping Zim in character, you could gradually shift the focus from his cold, clinical approach to something that intrigues him on a more personal level. This builds tension naturally, as Zim becomes less of an “alien scientist” and more genuinely curious about you as an individual. Here’s how you could make that transition:

Zim stared at the screen, silent, as images of human intimacy—hands interlocking, gentle touches, close gazes—flashed across it. His intense eyes flicked back and forth, analyzing each scene with a growing sense of perplexity and, perhaps, the slightest hint of intrigue. For a few moments, he was still, deep in thought.

Then, as if reaching some decision, he abruptly turned the machine off. The room fell into a quiet hum, leaving only the faint glow of the monitor lighting the space between you.

Zim’s gaze shifted to you, his eyes a little softer, though still guarded. He spoke, his voice lower, more thoughtful than before. “These attachments…” he began, his usual confidence giving way to something almost hesitant, “are all a… choice? A decision you make?”

You nodded, unsure where he was leading with this question. He tilted his head, his antennae twitching as he continued to study you with that intense curiosity, but now it seemed more directed at you than the concept of “human pairing” itself.

“Humans willingly place themselves in such vulnerable situations,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. He took a hesitant step closer, his gaze flickering over you with both fascination and wariness. “They seek comfort… and understanding?” He sounded almost skeptical, as if he couldn’t quite believe that such things could be desirable.

The silence between you grew. Zim, though he usually carried himself with sharp arrogance, now seemed conflicted, unsure of how to proceed. You could sense his curiosity deepening, yet he was clearly out of his element.

“What would it…” His words trailed off, and for a moment, he just stared, a hint of vulnerability in his expression. “What would it mean,” he tried again, “for an Irken to… to attempt such an interaction?”

He sat down across from you, for once lacking his usual commanding posture. Instead, he looked almost… uncertain, a question in his eyes that he couldn’t quite bring himself to ask aloud.

“Explain it to me,” he whispered, his voice unusually soft, “this need to understand each other, to… to feel close.”

The quiet hum of the base faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in the dim glow. Zim’s sharp, alien features softened slightly in the shadows, and for the first time, he seemed to be listening, truly listening, waiting to hear your answer. This shift, subtle yet deeply personal, began to dissolve the clinical walls of his laboratory, creating a rare, vulnerable space for both of you.

“it's.. Hard to explain but.. “ you think for a moment, truly lost at the explanation yet it seemed he's so eager to know, to.. Experience it with you, it made your heart race and mind fuzzy at the thought of being with an alien.. Being with him.

“Yes.. People ‘pair’ together because they feel.. Love and trusting with them. And well, some pair for the.. Intimate expect of it” You explain the best you could we Zim seem interested in the last part “Intimate? Touching?” He spoke closing in on you, removing the helmet that he had for the machine

“Then present yourself to me, I'll be your filthy mate human” he spoke with authority as if demanding, yet you found no issue in it as his gloved hands reached out to touch your face before you leaned in to kiss him, catching him by surprise yet he kissed back, harshly too, wanting to dominate you as your invader.

He pulls you onto an examination table, the closest and clean surface as everything else is covered by machinery, his hands grip and pull at your clothing, Zim’s eyes were an intense, otherworldly red—sharp and brilliant, almost like the glow of molten metal. They held a fierce, focused light, their color shifting subtly with his emotions, flashing with irritation or narrowing in suspicion. In rare, unguarded moments, a softer glint would appear in them, like a spark dulled just slightly, as if he were capable of more than just calculated contempt.

When he looked at you now, the red had an almost hypnotic depth, somewhere between curiosity and a hint of something he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—admit. His gaze was piercing and unwavering, yet it held a new, cautious warmth, as though he were seeing you for the first time in a way he didn’t entirely understand. His leather gloves felt chillingly cold as he pulled your clothing off with a loud rip,disregarding any attachment you might've had to the outfit, now gazing down at your body with a hunger.

“Humans are..fascinating..” He murmurs as his hands down your body, groping and feeling before latching onto your neck, wanting to mark you, wanting to make you his. You couldn't help but moan and squirm under his touch, what surprised you the most was feeling something cold and wet against your thigh but before you could see what it was his lips crashed into yours, a harsh dominating kiss,his lips was cold as they mix with your warm lips.

His grip and kiss spoke volumes, he's in charge, he is your invader.

“Stay still human.. “ he spoke in a hiss, you feel the same cold feeling press against your wet hole, finally getting a look you see he had an ovipositor rather then a traditional cock. Within seconds he pushed in, his ovipositor easily slid into you with the lube like substance on it. His groans and growls muffled by your neck as he quickly picked up pace, fucking into you like an animal in heat, who knew a species made by machines could be so passionate and rough? Your moans mix with his as his ovipositor pulses, growing close he curses in his language before growling “cum with me human!” as up ur pussy clamps against his ovipositor it nestled deep within your waiting womb as you felt small gelatin like eggs push through and into your womb, after about 4 he would spurt a chilling cold cum to fill the rest of the space before pulling out. His hand holding onto your stomach, his young waiting inside

“You're mine now human~” he.. Purred almost as he held you close to him.

[bookoflibrary]

Thinking of memories.

I thought I would make a really long trivia post of funny moments we had in JP as well as some of Aoki Tact's post EoS stream tidbits

When SINo first launched the game was nearly unplayable for over a week. Checking the status of the maint gave you a funny indefinite message.

There were originally two colo matches per day but this was discarded almost immediately for obvious issues.

Yoko Taro oversaw and wrote for main story to the very end with the help of two cowriters at Pokelabo

Pokelabo did the writing for everything else [Weapon stories, event stories and job stories] Despite her files not being in the game to datamine Rapunzel's design was leaked mysteriously thus she was released slightly sooner into second anniversary than intended.

Akazukin's sin jobs always gave away which character would be that sins giant raid [with the exception of Proud Lion where she talks about Alice but it was Pino who had that giant raid]

Yoko Taro wrote the very end of the game before anything else.

The desire mass in the finale and Gishanki are Taro's favorite characters. Yoko Taro also really likes Dorothy, and she is Aoki Tact's favorite character as well.

There was a very negative balance gem debt when the first run of the CG collab first came to JP. Akazukin originally had a different VA until shortly after first anniversary. All her lines were removed and replaced to the current one. To commemorate we were given Akazukin Mage for free in an upcoming event medal grind shop.

There was once a bug early in the game where the characters were dissembled on your home screen and their body parts would move really fast all over the place.

Hameln launch was a bit of a mess and also had a funny bug where he would have random characters' lines and voices on home instead of his.

It was purged off official accounts for no reason given but there was a live action short film of Reality Alice finding the Library. Fan re-uploads exist though.

The pose Alice makes in the Act of SINo ending PV is the front view of when you win your first colo match

Himiko (manga artist) and KitaEri (Cindy VA) made U32 a few times.

To add KitaEri and MAO were the most reappearing VAs on streams. KitaEri really enjoyed SINo as well as playing it. Of all the VAs, Tomoaki Maeno was the only one to not be on a stream in person though he did leave a video message for Hameln's debut stream.

Reality characters are designed when they make a new Library character [though they make changes sometimes, off the top of my head they mentioned Rapunzel drastically changed]

Some reality characters have official names and ages [mentioned here in other posts]

Some fun trivia from Aoki Tact's post eos streams:

Sin mages were considered at some point but the idea was discarded.

Mage designs were meant to resemble medieval Europe outfits but they tried a bridal look on Snow and fell in love so it was kept.

Momotaro was planned to be an actual SINo since they wanted more males and more Japan folklore characters period but they had issues catching later additions up as is so they stuck him as an NPC. Peter Pan had too much issues legally to be added.

To add Pokelabo had an entire legal team and list of fairytales they could potentially add.

Jino was only given one sentence of what to come up with for character designs so he spent a lot of time in libraries with headphones to capture little details in their design.

To add he once said he originally thought reality Gretel was in his 30s but this was misunderstood by fans. He was always meant to be age he is now. Jino also struggled a bit designing reality Akazukin, her original draft had her in a red raincoat. He also had issues making Hameln's reality design since his suits already had modern feels to them silhouette wise and wanted to make his silhouette stand out.

Aoki started his 'fan movie' since nearly the start of the game as a secret little project. Some of the models he made low-key were used in promo pvs (Act of Fusion PV and Cinderella having a cameo in the Death Metal video)

The shape and location for characters life force is important details for both Library and Reality.

A lot of discussions happened after the final Act of SINo chapters on JP sns, all he can say is Aladdin and Hameln are important to each other but their relationship is open to interpretation of the players. [Hameln's concept can mean Boys Love in Chinese as well though I think it's an accidental innuendo than anything linguistically speaking] Getting the movie officially released overseas is likely not possible. 'On the subject on another complete art book' there is no budget anymore and certain rights has expired that gives artists the right to share the work they've done for the game. In short making another art book is not possible.

The finale to the game took a majority of the games budget to make. Gishanki had voice actors in the film but it was a computer program thay made their voices for the game, so they don't have voice actors in the game. Aoki Tact says the characters we know in the game, and in the manga, and in the light novel are all 'different characters' as in he considers them completely different from the characters they are based off of and are separated canons.

This is already long so here's some trivia for now. I'll make a part 2 eventually. This is all based on memory seeing it in real-time, reading Famitsu interviews and watching Aoki Tact's streams which are very chill and interesting and talks a lot about game development so I recommend checking out his channel here.

[coral-nerd]

TOKORI TIME!

~ Do you remember the name of his farm? Were you happy with it, do you have any memory of feeling like he/you would want to change it or give it a different name if given the chance? ~ Pets! IIRC we couldn't adopt the pets in EA, and the weren't even brought into the game til near full release, but they HAD been announced, so did you have plans for Tokori to (maybe, hopefully, probably) adopt any specific animal from the shelter? Or did you know if he was a cat person, dog person, NOT a cat/dog person, etc? ~ Fav/least fav season? Fav/least fav holiday/festival? Or his tier list of those things. ~ Was he more of a farmer, a rancher, an angler, a miner, and archaeologist, a crafter, a forager, a logger, a diver, a... well not an undersea farmer/rancher bc EA restrictions on mer-conent? Or a jack-of-all-trades? Or "someone needs help with X so i guess im gonna develop my Y skill to help them out" / 'for the good of the community' kinda guy?

~ Romance was limited, but did Tokori have his eye on anyone (or 2 or 3) in particular? Monogamous, polyamorous, bit of a player, gay or bi/pan, aro/ace, just wanted a roommate more than a partner... Anything there?

~ Favourite colour? / Colour scheme YOU associate with him?

~ FREE SPACE. A random headcanon or piece of OC lore you want to share, a glitch or bug in the game that you remember made for a really funny Tokori scene or interaction, a townies-as-friends tier list, ideal menu choices from the foods in game, outfit/s he'd buy and wear from the white flamingo now that it exists in a fuller capacity, anything!!!

@starletown

AAAAAAAAAA THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!! Man, this feels like getting a bunch of presents all at once!

I could've sworn his farm was Hearthstone, but apparently that's Maya's farm XD Thankfully I don't have to remember, I can just go check the save file!

It's not what I expected! Although Selkies have kinda been my theme since I got online. I would definitely change it, except naming the farms is the hardest part for me :'') The only thing coming to mind is "grasslands"

ooooo now this is an interesting one, because I had no clue pets would be a Thing. But! What early access Did have was BABY ANIMALS!!! And they were SO CUTE!!! So Tokori was more than happy with all the adorable baby animals, and I think that would have enough pets-wise.

I might come back to this one after I go through my photos more thoroughly. But I think they loved everything except Winter. So far as Festivals go, the first one he and I ever did was the Cherry Blossom festival (of course) so that one will always be special. I don't think he'd like Spooky Festival though; a bit of a scaredy-cat and does not like ghosts. Unlike me, who LOVES all thinks Spooky Festival!

Tokori was absolutely jack-of-all-trades. Never got particularly good at anything, but was interested in everything. Very much a farmer who wanted to try it all and loved just Being Alive on the Island. He probably would have hated being a mermaid at first, but after they got used to it I think they would actually enjoy it. I like the "good of the community" description, I think that really perfectly sums up what Tokori was all about.

Oh Tokori was Fully aro/ace! Wouldn't know a flirt if it was clearly defined for him. I don't think he even liked any particular Islander more than another just as friends; everyone was their best friend!

100% GREEN. It's my favorite color, so I wanted my first farmer to have it!

Oooo ok ok... the prompts are helpful! I don't think Tokori would have ever bought anything from White Flamingo. The farmer overalls are almost a part of him tbh. I think they would have loved cooking, which I don't think was part of the og game?

As for more free spaces options... well, i guess we'll find out together as I go through my pictures!

[kagin-ant]

(Turning this into it's own post cause I'll be rambling a lot)

I've been wanting to put my Bug Folk lore into those like- journal page type things so it feels like you're reading research papers over them

But-... knowing me, that'll take forever. I'm still going to do it! But I want people to know more about my little Bug Folk immediately since they're so important to me right now. So I'm just gonna post infodumps about them that will later be compiled into journal pages.

SO! Infodump about these silly bugs below :>

Basic info:

So Bug Folk- Little tiny anthropomorphic creatures that resemble bugs. They can be insects, spiders, centipedes, millipedes, etc. (Yes I know some of these aren't bugs, but I'm including them anyways).

They can vary a lot in size (depending on what type of bug they are) but they're mostly around 3-1 inches tall. Average being 2 inches.

It's a bit hard to calculate a Bug Folk's lifespan since most of them become Bug Folk fully matured (more on that later). Though, most bugs will live up to 30-40 years after becoming Bug Folk

They all contain magic within their being. Not all of them can use or wield magic (in fact, strong magic users are not the most common), but they all are part magic. This is because they are all created with magic.

How Bug Folk are Made:

Awakened Bugs - (Almost) all Bug Folk will start of as normal bugs. To become Bug Folk, an already existing Bug Folk needs to take a normal bug and use magic to awaken them into Bug Folk. It can either be just one really strong magic user or a team of magic users working together. Then boom!- They got an intelligent mind and a humanoid body. They will also be fully mature when they're awaken (that is... as long as the bug was fully mature once awakened)

Born Bugs - Another way Bug Folk are made is to be born from the combination of two already awaken Bug Folk. This will cause those two Bug Folk to die for the birth of this new bug, as their souls are given up to create a new life. But this bug will have the combine strengths and magic ability of their parents

However, it's not always guaranteed that a bug will be born even when the parents give up their life for it. Also, that bug won't be full matured once created like normal awaken bugs are and will take them a long time to develop into maturity. They have to grow from egg to adult after all. They also don't have the fast growth speed of a normal bug. It's more on par with a human, so it'll take a good couple years until they become an adult.

Even though born Bug Folk are stronger, it's considered more convenient to just awaken bugs instead. Although- born Bug Folks are the only way hybrid bugs can come to be.

Bug Lifestyles:

The type of bug that's awakened/born usually qualifies what kind of skills they have. For example, Beetles are normally a lot bigger and stronger so tend to be used for fighting. Spiders tend to be more skilled craftsmen. Ants are a jack of all trade species

When they're awaken, they'll either have one of two lifestyles: Social or Traveler

The social bugs - These bugs live and work together in a community that's hidden from humans. It's usually created from the ground up with a powerful magic Bug Folk awakening a whole bunch on bugs to work for them, turning that bug into a Royal Bug. This is most common with bee, ant, wasp, termites, etc. Bug Folk.

Social bugs have the benefit of protection and resources but usually meant to live in a strict hierarchy. With the Royal Bug on top, a few nobility, and many soldiers and workers at the bottom of that hierarchy

Then there are the traveler bugs - These are Bug Folk that don't live with any established social bug community. Either they were exiled from their past society, left on their own, or was awakened to that lifestyle (Though that is rare to happen)

They are much more free to do whatever they want but don't have the protection and resources that Social bugs do. And despite not being social bugs, they still tend to travel in groups for better survival. Though lone bugs aren't unheard of, those are usually ones that are powerful enough to survive by themselves.

They are also the ones that humans will most often see. And since the more chaotic one usually are travelers, humans often believe Bug Folk to be mischievous creatures.

Other Stuff:

Many Bug Folk worship or work under the belief of these Bug Folk called The Ancients. They're essentially the giant prehistoric bugs that have godly powers, thus seen as gods, deities, etc.

Bug Folk live in the same world as humans (they call humans giants). Though, they try to hide themselves from them as they tend to have a distinct distrust of humans. Humans are vaguely aware of Bug Folk but they're mostly a mystery to humans. Humans and Bug Folk have a tense relationship

[askror]

Alrighty, I suppose it's high time I finally asked...

What sort of hobbies do you enjoy in your free time....Claire Voyance? Surely even the Diamond Cutters get to unwind once in a while, don't they?

And yes, I mean Claire, not... "You-know-who".

Eh, wait...is that saying too much? Uh, maybe ignore that last bit please, Ms. Voyance!

“Hrmph. As much fun as you might be having, answering this is-“

“If you call it pointless I’m going to pour mayonnaise into your next batch of tea when you least expect it,” Slinger said wryly. He was clearly amused at her being put on the spot like this.

“ ‘Sonly fair. Got to answer it." Smithy’s sage nod barely concealed how similarly smug he was feeling. Or maybe just generally relieved that he wasn’t being given any more questions about his own embarrassing hobbies. She looked between both of them, clicking her tongue in annoyance, which only made both of them look away innocently. At last, she sighed and yielded. Claire Voyance, huh?

Very well. She took a deep breath and-

—

"What to do around here?'" Claire tilted her head, dog-earing her paperback before placing it down by the ottoman she was sat upon. "Feeling bored? I guess that's fair. It's not like we're a paramilitary team hiding out in a secret base in the middle of the ocean or anything. Now that? Would be exciting."

"Claaaaaire..." She had never heard Whisper pout before, but the wolf did so successfully. Ten points, flawless technique. The girl had come a long way from the first three months of being here, missing home and seemingly always on the verge of breaking. She'd gotten stronger, more confident, but most importantly, more open. That they were having this talk at all was evidence of that. "Walking around bugging you three is nice and all, but I'm still so tense all the time. You always seem so relaxed between missions. What's your secret?"

"They aren't really secrets, just hobbies. If you don't have them you'll go stir-crazy. Like you are now, for example?" She put a finger to her lips though. Talking about herself? That wasn't high on her list of favorite things. Ah well, might as well give it a shot.

"The big one is reading. I try to buy at least two or three books every time we go to the mainland. Actually worked at a bookstore before all this fighting business, y'know." She held up her previously dropped paperback. On the cover, a beautiful fox woman who had used altogether too much hairspray and clad in altogether too little clothing was embracing a shockingly handsome cat in a military uniform beneath flowery cursive title: The Languishing Love of the Loathsome Lord. Whisper squinted at it dubiously before looking at Claire with... Disapproval?

It was the howler's time to pout: "Don't give me that! We all have our own genre preferences. Anyway, outside of that? I know you're not interested in tarot reading, but I find it fun. Meditation as well. Nothing better than having a mug of chai and meditating. It centers you, lowers anxiety... That's usually when I can see the future the best as well." She put her index fingers to the side of her head and made a crazy face, the most stereotypical "I am a psychic woowoowoo" gesture imaginable. Whisper snorted.

"Love the tea, but meditation isn't really my thing. I, um... There's enough quiet moments in my life already."

"Fair enough..." Claire felt like she was forgetting something, and snapped her fingers when it returned to her. "Oh, yoga. I love yoga."

"That thing where you stand and do stances?" Whisper asked thoughfully, tilting her head. "...That does look fun."

"Then why don't we try it out? I'm overdue for a session." Claire tried to hide her excitement. She could use a yoga buddy! The other two were absolutely dreadful, but the lanky wolf? It almost looked like she was made for it!

___

Thump.

“Whisper, we’re only doing tree pose. Did you just fall down?”

“No.”

“Then you must have been hit with a shrink ray, because your voice is coming from below me.”

There was a melodic little giggle from the wolf which finally caused Claire to open one eye, finding Whisper lying on her back and staring straight at the ceiling: "I don't think yoga is for me."

The howler monkey sighed at the near-instant defeat, but she was smiling regardless. At least the wolf gave it a go: "Shall I fetch The Languishing Love of the Loathsome Lord?"

"Do you really not have anything a little less languishing? Or lordly?"

"I'll see what I can do. But, outlook not so good."

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

When the Wolf Howls - Chapter Four

"I Have Always Found That Plans Are Useless, But Planning is Indespensible."

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Nonbinary Character(s). Secondary Pairings; James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> The small gang gets closer to their goal, but an unexpected interaction pauses their progress.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 2279

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (M) Snowstorm, risk, unknown (general adventure type stuff), unknown assailant.

𝐀/𝐍 -> Check it out below, or on AO3 here!

<- Chapter Three Chapter Four ->

Dividers by us! <3

- ‘Free Space’ – @buckybarnesbingo (B049); - ‘If You Believe’ – @fandom-free-bingo (Frosty Edition); - ‘Annoying Sibling’ – Fandom-Free Bingo (Gingerbread Edition); - ‘“Don’t Look at Me, This Wasn’t My Idea”’ – @fourormore Bingo (2024); - ‘Fighting Back or Fighting Back… Unsuccessfully’ – @julybreakbingo (Flash); - ‘Caught in an Explosion or Caught in a Storm’ – July Break Bingo (6x6).

We proceeded without too much difficulty, though I watched Sleipnir intently. While my own senses were sharp, the horse had a mystical sense for danger and an understanding one wouldn’t have expected, and I found myself growing quite fond of the creature. Intermittently, however, I would be reminded of his lineage, and had to swallow the urge to pull my partner from his back. The steed would eye me, as if sensing my doubt, and the anthropomorphising part of my brain couldn’t help but think he looked almost apologetic, informing me that he was no happier about his lineage than I.

I wondered if he had any sense of who his father – mother? – was. I wondered if he was aware that he was dead. I wondered if he’d care either way, if he did understand the concept.

I wondered if he felt the same darkness in his heart, and fought every day to be better than those that came before. Or maybe he tried, but secretly thought he could never outrun that darkness.

I blinked, shifting my eyes away from his.

I think I’m overthinking this a little too much.

My mind turned instead to the other child of Loki that dwelled in my thoughts. If Sleipnir was the good that had come from the trickster god, then Fenris was surely considered to be the evil – just as dark and torturous as his father, but with far more capacity for ending the world than the son of Odin had ever shown. Loki himself had proven largely content with extracting a more personal apocalyptic pain – good for the world, admittedly, though not so much so for my own bubble of it.

I turned my eyes to my partner, chewing worriedly on my lip. I’d thought Loki was the last of his kind we would ever have to face – and yet here I was. He and his bloodline seemed determined to haunt me to my last.

We passed into the mountains without issue, the peaks less intimidating than those surrounding Asgard. Nevertheless, the shadows cast over us made me shiver, fingers clenching around the reins. Bug glanced back at me with concern, and I forced a tight-lipped smile, my nod letting them know I was okay.

But I couldn’t help the way my eyes skimmed every crag and recess, half-expecting to see the mangled body of the Spiders that had haunted my dreams after my frantic search.

We could see the border in the distance when Thor stiffened, raising his hand to still us once more. His head was cocked, looking off to his left, but I was focused on the land before us.

The divide between Nornheim and Varinheim was clear – from long views of soft meadows and rough rock to the all-encompassing, blinding white of snow and ice, glimpsed in short bursts between mist so thick it looked as though one could choke. Instinctively, I coughed, clearing more clinging debris from ash-coated oesophagus, and Thor shot me a look of fury, eyes narrowed. With a jolt, I recalled the warnings he’d given as he explained the map to us.

‘The Domain of the Dark Man. Not somewhere you want to go.’

He’d seem nervous at the thought, eager to avoid whatever creature haunted this corner of a distant realm – except now neither realm nor creature were quite so distant, and his nerves were returning. With an apologetic wince, I ducked my head, fighting the immediate need to cough that arose as he slowly guided us forward once more.

I was almost relieved when the sound of horseshoes on rock became the softer thump of metal on snow, though each crack and growl and roar and howl of the ice had my heart stuttering.

And then the almighty cold wreathed itself around me and I gasped at the pain of it, air coming like knives in my lungs. Before me, Mars curled in on themselves, trembling violently. Even the great god leading our party ducked his head and hissed audibly, the wind whipping his hair around his face.

“Thor!” I called, voice hoarse from the dry, frigid air. He looked back – with some difficulty, owing to the cape flapping into his vision – and I gestured. “We can’t see a thing. We need to wait out this storm!”

He nodded once, glancing around himself, and then beckoned Sleipnir closer, leaning down to mutter indecipherably into the horse’s ear. Slip leant out a soft nicker, the sound carrying on the wind, and broke into a brisk trot, leading our eclectic party along a path only he could perceive between towering blocks of ice and wind-whipped chasms.

It wasn’t long, however, until we were led into the shelter of a colossal slab of rock, the ground around us protected from the ever-falling snow. A cavern yawned ahead of us, a dark hole in the ragged surface, and I hesitated as the horse didn’t slow.

“We’re… Going in there?” I clarified quietly, the shelter allowing for a lower tone, the rock echoing my own voice back at me.

“I would trust Sleipnir with my life – and, more importantly, that of the pair of you,” Thor added, glancing back at us. With a stiff nod, I loosened my grip on the reins, giving Glaðr her head and letting her follow Sleipnir into the darkness.

The night was as uneventful as the one before, though sleep eluded me just the same. The roar of the wind and the sound-smothering effect of the snow left me feeling helpless, left to simply stare at the mouth of our temporary shelter, gazing into the swirling, white abyss.

Thor slept easily now, reassured that the storm would keep any potential chance encounters at bay – ‘even the wolves wouldn’t venture out in such weather’. But no comfort assuaged my anxiety; with my love curled close against my chest and snoring softly, I knew I wouldn’t find peace until we were far away from this place and the horrors it contained.

The dawn brought with it an eventual end to the storm’s raging, an encompassing silence falling with little warning. A weak, sickly glow radiated through the mouth of the cave, the true light of day approaching with startling speed, and I strained my senses, casting out feelers for any creatures crawling from their holes, hungry after their enforced captivity.

The distant sound of powder crunching under light footsteps had every muscle in my body hardening into steel, pausing only momentarily before sliding myself from beneath Mars, careful as I lowered their sleep-warm cheek to the sleeping bag.

I hadn’t any idea what I’d face beyond the security of our cave – but it didn’t matter. I’d face anything for my dozing soulmate, snoring lightly on the ground behind me in a brief respite from their innocent quest.

A shadow shifted in the light streaming from the mouth, and I dove at the vaguely humanoid shape, half-blind at the difference in the brightness glaring off the fallen snow. My adversary landed in the drift beneath me with a soft oomph of air leaving lungs, before a blow to the side of the head had me tumbling down beside them. Dazed, I blinked, wondering what manner of beast had the power to swat me aside so easily as my ash-lined throat burned and spasmed, the cold doing little to ease the pain in my chest.

Firm hands on my shoulders pinned me down, and I snarled, legs curling up to throw my attacker from me. Icy, metal fingers on my jaw, shaking roughly, paused me in my attack, and the words broke through the sound of my heartbeat deafening in my ears.

“... A grip, would you? It’s us, you goddamn idiot!”

Blinking, I squinted at the silhouette in the light, taking in a mouth set in a firm line and long, dark hair falling around features startlingly similar to mine. “... Win?”

He rocked back onto his heels, rubbing the side of his jaw where my fist had found its mark, the skin already shifting to a startling purple. “Hey, dumbass.”

My gaze flickered over his shoulder, and I started in surprise, another set of identical eyes peering back at me, uncertain and concerned. “Tem?”

The meekest of us offered me a timid wave, chewing his lip, gaze darting back and forth across the barren, boulder-dotted landscape. I winced sympathetically; Темнота remembered our time in Siberia better than Winter and I, and the wind-swept snow piling around his boots was likely an unpleasant reminder of the hells he’d endured. “What are you all doing here?”

“Clint called. We got here as fast as we could.”

My head tipped back to find the sailor looming over me, arms folded, one eyebrow quirked in amusement. “Seems my boy is the fiercest of the three of you, hm? I’m not surprised.”

I grunted and pushed my brother off, eyeing my former headmate with mild irritation and embarrassment. “Was that really necessary?”

Snorting, Win offered me a hand, pulling me to my feet as I rubbed at the throbbing spot above my left ear. “You came for me first!”

“You snuck up on us! How was I supposed to know that y-”

“Yeah, well, we had to catch up – someone decided to go off and risk our Bug’s life without even bothering to-”

“-had an option! You know Mars; they’ll do what they think is right, even if-”

“-stopped them! It’s not like you couldn’t-”

“What in Odin’s name is all this shouting about?”

Win and I turned our blazing eyes from one another to take in the half-conscious God of Thunder stood in the mouth of the cave, yawning as he rubbed his eyes. He stiffened only briefly as he took in the new arrivals, nodding at each of my brothers in turn. “Winter. Temnota. I thought you might find us eventually.” His brow creased a little as he took in the sailor looming by Win’s shoulder – defiantly fragile, but willing to risk life and limb to defend his lover against any possible threat. It was admirable, really – if a little amusing. “And this must be Lieutenant Tyne?”

Greg nodded, shooting me one last glare before extending a hand to the towering blond. “A pleasure.”

They shook politely, and I bit back a grin as Greg winced infinitesimally, seemingly bearing the brunt of Thor’s disapproval at his harsh awakening, his skin blanching whiter around the god’s fingers.

“Mars?” Tem pressed timidly, fingers twisting in front of himself. My smile was more genuine at that, touched as always by my brother’s shyness.

“Aslee-”

A dark-haired, fabric bundled blur streaked past me, squealing with surprise and delight as they flung themselves at the pair stood waiting, one arm wrapping tight around each neck. “You’re here! How are you here?! What are you doing here?!”

“We came to find you, Crazy,” Win laughed, scooping them bodily from the ground and spinning them around. “What were you thinking, disappearing like that? You could’ve died!”

“Yeah, yeah,” they mumbled into this shoulder, legs dangling and wriggling happily. “You can skip this part; I already got it from James.”

“You haven’t had it from us,” Tem retorted, his voice unusually stern as he frowned minutely. “We were worried about you, Mars. You were gone, and we didn’t know if you were okay.”

They slid to the ground, humbled, head low. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Tem’s hand found theirs, grasping gently, and he pulled them to his chest, metal fingers smoothing their hair. “It’s okay. You’re okay, and that’s the most important thing. Just… Maybe don’t do that again? I mean, you definitely would, if the same situation arose, and we both know it. But, y’know… Ideally, don’t.”

They chuckled weakly, face burying into his neck. “I love you. I’ve missed you.”

They caught the boys up as we continued to walk, hands waving as they discussed their plan of action. Win and Greg were just as incredulous as Thor and I, but Tem simply nodded along, eyes lighting up.

“If Bug thinks they can do it, then they can do it,” he argued stubbornly, arms crossed across his chest.

“Now isn’t the time for your blind faith, Temnota,” I growled, jaw setting. “Don’t encourage them.”

“Someone should be on their side,” he muttered, sullen, and I shot him a glare.

“We’re all on their side – that’s why we’re here,” Win interjected, a hand finding our brother’s shoulder as he glanced at me pointedly. His expression said it all – Tem was the one we protected at all costs, nurturing his sweet, innocent nature and keeping him as wholesome as we could. Win and I had been embittered by our experiences – Win in particular had a grief in his soul that seemed unable to be lifted – but despite everything, Tem stayed light-hearted, eternally joyful and optimistic. We didn’t discourage or dissuade him, not ever, and I’d broken an unspoken code in speaking to him harshly. He was an adult, that much was certain, but his rose-tinted approach to love and the parts of the world he deemed safe were almost childlike in nature, and reprimanding him felt like kicking a puppy.

“Win’s right,” I agreed softly, reaching out to squeeze his hand apologetically. “We all just want our Bug to be safe – it would be great if we could help Fenris, too, but their wellbeing comes first.”

Tem nodded slowly, his expression relaxing. “I think they’ll be okay. They’re a really good dog trainer.”

I hummed my agreement, watching my partner speak with their former headmate, eyes alight with excitement. “They are,” I agreed quietly, unable to settle the nerves writhing in my stomach.

[sigloverofwords]

let me wrap my teeth around the world

An Astarion x spawn!Tav fanfic

Series warnings: violence, injury, abuse, self injury, suicidal ideation, animal death, rape (past), ptsd, emotional abuse, physical abuse, mental abuse, scars, panic attacks, manipulation, transformations

Summary: You awake at the nautiloid crash, wounded and starving but free of your Master for the first time in your life. You’re determined to get as far away from Him as possible, and finally get some answers about your existence. Fortunately for you, you stumble upon another spawn. Unfortunately he doesn’t seem to want anything to do with you.

Your ability to transform into a monster quickly changes his mind, though.

Posted to AO3 first!

Author’s Note: this is a y/n-free second person slow burn hurt eventual comfort fic. Lots of heavy stuff addressed, please take care of yourself and don’t read if any of the warning subjects are triggering to you.

2k+ word chapters

Chapter 3 (prev)

Astarion points out the path to the West and you walk along in silence for most of the morning. Lost in thought, you don’t notice the way he glances over at you, eyes narrowed into crimson slits as he studies you like a collector examines a pinned and mounted bug. 

Your own mind is busy piecing together your memories of the last week. Between your multiple bouts of unconsciousness and the havoc that transformation always wrecks on your body and mind, memories of your recent past are as disconnected and fleeting as lightning strikes. Carefully you trace back your steps, starting with the forest you now walk through.

Forest, druid grove, beach, nautiloid wreck, mindflayer pod…

Your throat closes a little at the flash of memory of the pod. You had come to in a haze, blood clotted over familiar wounds, fading bruises in rings around your neck. The pod had been too warm, the air heavy and humid around you, filling your lungs like blood. You had barely had the strength to try and turn away when the mind flayer forced the tadpole into you, let alone fight back. 

The feeling of the worm wrapping its needle-like teeth around your eye and wiggling back to press into your brain, biting and ripping to make room for itself, was almost the worst thing you’d ever experienced. 

A shadow crosses your face and you startle backwards, suddenly back in the present. Your heel hits a raised tree root and your lips part in surprise, arms flying out to try and stop your fall, but it’s too late and you can feel yourself heading for the hard ground. 

Before you slam into the dirt, a hand catches your wrist and hauls you back to your feet, steadying you.

“Careful there,” Astarion drawls. “Wouldn’t want to muddy those new robes so quickly.”

He’s too close, eyes too sharp, grip too tight. Your eyes widen, chest caving in around lungs that can’t hold enough air. Before you can stop it, you imagine pushing him away and fleeing to familiar arms to be cradled by hands that drip with your own blood. It makes you freeze, and you fight an invisible battle to force that instinct far, far down. 

He isn’t your home, he hasn’t been for a long time. Don’t fucking think of him like that.

You have to clench your jaw to fight back the urge to either scream or throw up. Maybe both.

In contrast, your companion is utterly unruffled. His eyes find your wrist, slim fingers unfolding like petals to reveal the mess of your skin. You watch him carefully, so you spot the almost imperceptible twitch of his eye, the shallow swallow that makes his throat bob.

“Not the prettiest mark to be left with,” you say finally, voice frustratingly weak as you claw composure back from the war inside you.

Astarion drops your wrist suddenly, turning away.

“Looks like someone didn’t learn their lesson the first time,” he says sharply. They were words meant to sting, but you had long been impervious to biting little barbs. 

You trail after him.

“Contrary to the impression I’ve given thus far, I don’t cry easily, so you’ll have to try harder than that to earn my tears again,” you say. It’s true, before the last 24 hours, you can’t remember the last time you cried. It was as if the tadpole was stripping away layers of defenses you’ve erected over the years, a double edged sword that you weren’t entirely happy with. In most cases you’d found dead eyes and unemotional reactions serve you better than weeping and flailing, but the release you’d felt at letting yourself tear up even a little had been welcome.

Now, with the sun and fresh air around you, your wrists free of all but the memory of restraint, you are finally starting to feel more like yourself. You push the last remnants of your tainted instincts away and take a deep breath.

“So, Astarion,” you say, forging bravely forward despite the cutting look he sends you. “How long have you been turned?”

The elf turns his eyes upwards, as if beseeching a god for patience.

“Good gods, you must be new,” he says. Each patronizing word drips with condescension. “You just jumped from ‘hello, my name is’ to ‘how much do you make a year and do you think your parents really loved each other, or you?’” 

You frown, tilting your head a little in confusion.

“I’m not new.”

He lets out a disbelieving laugh.

“Really? Could have fooled me, little monster.”

You stiffen, but the nickname isn’t imbued with any venom, so you simply scowl.

“I…haven’t been around a lot of spawn,” you confess through gritted teeth.

“Obviously. You manners are atrocious, but surely you must have picked up some form of decorum, even in Neverwinter?”

He glances over to see you glowering at him and chuckles.

“If you want to pull off the intimidating stare, darling, you’d do better in your other form.”

“Stop talking about it,” you snap, shame and guilt wrapping their hot hands around your spine and electrifying your nerves. Without thinking, you push past Astarion, stomping ahead on the path. You were starting to seriously regret your choice of traveling companion.

Of all the spawn I meet it has to be the one with a silver spoon up his arse.

You fume, throwing various profanity at him under your breath. This was going to be your plan for the foreseeable future, or at least until you got tired of scowling at the ground, but something pulls you from your anger. The familiar, sharp scent of blood teases your nose.

Your head jerks up, and your steps immediately soften. In an instant, Astarion is at your side, also moving silently. The two of you head to where the forest breaks ahead of you, slipping in and out of shadows. A quietly running river has worn a small gully in the land, but a sturdy stone bridge crosses it. The raise of the bridge blocks your sight, but you can practically see the tendrils of scent that beckon you from the other side.

“Blood,” you say quietly. Beside you, Astarion looks tense and drawn, a strange pallor to his skin.

“I smell it,” he replies. 

Surprisingly in sync, the two of you head for the bridge.

As soon as you reach the crest you can see the carnage laid out before you. Human adventurers and goblins alike lay slaughtered, their bodies abandoned where they fell, pools of blood staining the cobblestones. 

“What happened?” You wonder aloud. Astarion scoffs.

“Who cares? Let’s see if they have any valuables.”

He starts towards them, but something makes you reach out and catch his sleeve.

“Wait—”

An arrow buzzes past his nose, interrupting your warning. Then you spot them: goblins, perched in a few trees on the far bank of the river, and concealed along a crumbling wall that encircles whatever poor town they took over.

“Shit!”

Astarion backpedals quickly. The two of you run back for cover on the other side of the river, black tipped goblin arrows clattering to the stone in a hail right behind you.

When you reach the treeline you start to slow, but Astarion yells back at you.

“Keep running! Those bastards have our scent now, they won’t stop til they kill us or we kill them!”

Thus motivated, you kept running.

What had been a whole morning’s walk melts away under the speed of two scared spawn. Although neither of you are too much faster than a fit human, you both have more stamina, free of a beating heart to struggle to keep up with you.

Still, you know you haven’t fed in far too long, and when you finally misplace a step you can’t stop yourself from falling. Astarion isn’t there to save you this time, and you plow into the ground. Your head is swimming and you can’t feel your fingers anymore. The scent of earth and plants fills your nose, the cool dirt a welcome relief to your fear-flushed skin.

Astarion spins around when he hears you collapse.

“Oh for fucks-” he races back, but your muscles have given out, and you can do little more than loll an arm over his shoulders. You can hear the chittering of the goblins, who have given relentless chase since the bridge. Something rustles in the forest ahead too, and you could almost laugh if you weren’t delirious with hunger and over-exertion. 

Of course they got in front of us, too. Just my luck.

Then the unexpected happens.

Out of the foliage around the path bursts a party of adventurers, so mismatched and different that you couldn’t imagine them together in any other context.

At the lead is a githyanki woman, teeth bared in a snarl and sword already raised as she dashes past you and slams into the first goblin. A dark-skinned human is close on her heels, his jaw set and a glimmer in his eye. He dispatches the nearest goblin with an adroit twitch of his blade, moving to another like a dance.

A middle-aged human man skids to a stop next to you, raising his staff and chanting. As three glowing missiles fly from him to twist and wend to the charging goblins, a final figure stops beside you.

You look up into the serious, scarred face of a young woman. Her dark eyes are hard and severe.

“Come on,” she says shortly. With her help, Astarion is able to lift you and get you off the path. After making sure you’re out of the line of fire, the woman turns and dives head-first into the fray, although the other three have it mostly wrapped up by now.

The gith impales the final goblin with a satisfied nod, then withdraws her sword and flicks the dark blood from the tip.

The other human—the swordsman, not the wizard—approaches and drops to his knee before you and Astarion with a friendly smile.

“You alright?” he asks. You blink, still processing the fact that you’re not currently a goblin arrow-cushion.

“We are now,” Astarion answers for you. “That was a well-timed appearance.”

The man stands and holds out his hand. 

You reason that it’s far past time for you to get off the ground and introduce yourself, so you get to your feet. Although you’re a little more unsteady than you’d like, you manage it with minimal embarrassment, and hold out your hand.

“Tav,” you offer.

“The Blade of the Frontiers, at your service,” he says. His voice and stature is full of the heroism you had thought a thing only in story books. “Although, my friends call me Wyll.”

The girl who helped you off the road seems to roll her eyes at this.

Astarion is about to reply when he doubles over with a groan of pain. Wyll does the same, as do the others behind him. You step back in shock, barely noticing the tremors of pain in your own head. There’s a hint of something around the edges of your mind, like a dog sniffing around a closed door to try and get inside. A moment later it passes and Astarion straightens with a gasp.

“What—”

“You’ve got a tadpole too,” Wyll says. The gith seems to curse under her breath at this.

“I, well, yes,” Astarion replies. “What was that?”

“The tadpole. At least, as far as we can tell,” the other man says, stepping forward. “Gale of Waterdeep, at your service.”

And with that, it’s introductions all around. The girl who pulled you from danger is Shadowheart, a name that makes Astarion purse his lips with faux sympathy. 

“Her parents must have hated her,” he whispers to you when attention is momentarily off of you both. You give him a sharp look and a jab with your elbow that you hope communicate “try not to antagonize the people who saved our lives” but just makes him grin.

The gith is Lae’zel, and seems incredibly put out by this entire experience.

“We have now lost time and resources,” she says, every word clipped short. “Between your ridiculous demand to rescue that druid and now helping every helpless istik that crosses your path we will be ghaik before we even see the creche.”

Shadowheart scowls, annoyed, but Wyll maintains his chipper attitude.

“No loss at all, Lae’zel,” he reassures her, then turns to survey you and Astarion with a critical, but not unfriendly, eye.

“These two are under the same pressure we are.”

He addresses Astarion directly.

“We’re searching for a cure, and our best chance is the druid Halsin, who’s fallen into enemy hands. If you can fight, another blade is always welcome.”

“How can I say no to such a tempting offer?” Astarion replies lazily, then looks down slightly at you with a wicked grin.

“What do you say, dear sister? Shall we join forces with our brave rescuers?”

You give a weak smile in reply.

“As you say,” you reply.

“Fantastic!” Wyll claps his hands together. Gale surveys you both with mild concern, and Shadowheart and Lae’zel both seem unamused by the entire conversation.

“As long as they can fight,” the gith says finally, spinning on her heel and marching away. Shadowheart shrugs and follows.

“We can,” you say, stepping forward as the rest of the group starts to move. “Fight, I mean.”

Astarion rests an arm around your shoulders, the casual touch making you want to rip said arm off. You settle for glaring at him, which he easily ignores.

“I can fight,” he corrects. “My sister’s skills lie elsewhere.”

Gale brightens slightly.

“Cooking? Another hand at the fire would always be welcome.”

“Perfect,” Astarion replies smoothly on your behalf, making you sigh.

Let it be on his head, then, when they all find out you can’t cook for shit.

[cannibal-nightmares]

apothecary's log: cannibal's schizophrenic insomnia survival guide

this is just an extremely extremely loose review on one night of drinking this tea, for anyone's interest. I'm not going to edit or formalize this, especially given that this is based around sleep, so I want to depict my thoughts as they were. (also slightly interesting to see how my text patterns change)

foreword: I picked up this tea just because I wanted something lavender-tasting; I genuinely did not expect anything to actually become of it's effects, though I probably would have if I had actually read the ingredients.

physically: actually made me sleepy, which was unexpected, as per my original (un)intentions of buying this. made me a bit disoriented-- I couldn't tell if it's similar to the imbalance melatonin causes me, or if it was due to general induced-sleepiness paired with the symptoms of chronic vertigo. "dizzy" isn't quite the word here: it feels like the wakefulness from sleepwalking, like I move and then I realize I've moved, it unbalances me, I resolve the slight panic, repeat. it's like trying to do a task while high. maybe I'll try actively doing something for my curiosity the next night. I really didn't experience anything unpleasurable (ex, some teas that give me heart palpitations)

mentally: didn't experience much change in my mental state other than feeling I could freely slip into daydreams (with paranoia and constant critique, this is not always the case). background chatter remained at the same volume, corherency, and tone. I felt my focus alter: normally when I "get off track," I make mental tabs on where I was and where to reference back to after I go down a rabbit hole, but with this tea, no tabs were granted. I barely felt slightly annoyed with this, much less concern (though any semblance of "panic," as described, was mildly entertaining within the context), so, so far, no unpleasant mental effects.

I tried to do some cross-referencing on some of the ingredients in this tea, but results were mixed and contradicted each other, and--I'll be honest--my tired hypochondriac ass got a bit spooked trying to read about consuming poppy (and then confused... more on this later). I'm sure I could read on it upon a mornings wake.

waking up: I woke up interrupted to a phone call, but had felt like I had been waking up, anyways. I woke up sleepy, but not drowsy or miserably tired. I'm not sure that I moved much in my sleep, which is often a problem for me; as for dreams, they were busy and plot-thick but might have been due to how stressed I've been. They did physically feel a touch different, though, so there's room for further observation, especially because I think i was grinding my teeth again, based on a mild headache (something that seems to have lessened and momentarily disappeared in taking cbd+cbg+∆9, but i have otherwise ground my teeth for far more than a decade now). Upon continually waking up, sleep gently melted away and has left me comfortably alert. Its hard to tell what dizziness is from vertigo or the tea; honestly, probably the former. Similarly, after standing up, I almost immediately starting hallucinating bugs (without fear and without total recognition until they vanished), which on one hand I wouldn't consider to be the factor of the tea, and on the other, I don't commonly see stuff upon waking up.

Overall, in its purpose, I slept through 5 hours. I'll take that as a win. Only after one night, 9/10, so far would recommend. Also it's delicious.

Some general unorganized notes of contrast: Valerian root (found in "Extra" Sleepytime brand tea) doesn't seem to do anything for me while awake, and induces consistently mildly disturbing dreams; CBD+CBG+∆9 is fast-acting in calm--doesn't make me sleepy or necessarily keep me asleep, but puts my mind and body at ease to make for productive and stress-free rest (of what I get); melatonin causes drowsiness as it kicks in and has me "fast travel" through the night, which I find more uncomfortable than productive

[dreaming-marchling]

I've been trying to figure out the Marked in Faith timeline - not anchored to a calendar year but internal relative timeline.

At the beginning Brian is 16 almost 17 a week before New Year's and Dom is 23. Mia is 19.

As far as I can tell Brian's birthday is early January and I think Dom's is Novemberish? (Brian's date with Dom on his birthday was just before Earl showed up at the garage and Brian ended up back in juvie for something like 6 weeks before he turned 18. So being generous on the timeline there's maybe 2 months between Dom's birthday and Brian's)

This means Dom had just recently turned six when Brian was born. Which means that it had to be very near Dom's birthday for him to have been 5 with his Dad in the car and for the mark to be clear enough to recognize the image.

I can't remember if you have given specifics, but I get the feeling that Dom was something like 14 or 15 when Teresa died? Meaning Mia was 10 or 11. Is this right?

How old was Dom when Anthony died? And how long did he spend in Lompoc? But for Dom to have served his sentence and be out of prison, with no parole restrictions by 23, and successfully running a business, I feel like timing-wise he had to still be under 18 when it happened? Like maybe 17ish - and charged as an adult. Mia would have been 13 when their aunts/uncles had to step in to be her guardian while Dom was in prison.

(Researching sentencing is super difficult because it depends on how they charged the crime and if there was any enhancement for great bodily harm and if any mitigating circumstances were considered and if he had a record etc.)

How old is Vince in comparison to Dom? Are they the same age? When was Vince's drinking-problem relative to Dom being in prison?

Sorry for going on - I like to figure out timelines and this one has been bugging me.

Feel free to correct any of my assumptions!

Hi!

I totally understand a reader's brain wanting to nail down the timeline and understand it and immerse yourself in it and I love that you want to do that for Marked in Trust!

I come at it with writer's brain though and it's slightly different for me. While I do have a rough order of events and corresponding ages that I think things happen, I don't like to pin down events if I haven't yet fully played with them, if that makes sense? For instance, I don't want to tell you oh yes Dom was 100% 16 when this or that happened because I might want to play with that section of his life later and organically the scene might not flow around these little points that I weighed the narrative down with before the event was fully fleshed out. Fixing points in stone always makes me nervous, lol, because then I can't go back. The muse needs room to groove, lol.

So I'll do my best here but I reserve the right to wiggle later.

(honorable mentions to my brain hating numbers which is annoying when you're doing adult stuff *and* when you have a nearly 1million word series that gives a lot to remember aside from numbers lol, and also some of these events came out in MiT when I never dreamed of the 800k words that would come later lol so please forgive me being annoyingly handwavy on some of this)

In MiT's start Brian is 16, nearly 17. His birthday is in early January. Dom had recently turned 23, his birthday is in November. I generally imagine that Dom's birthday is usually a little bit before Thanksgiving but I don't think anything within the series has fixed it beyond just the month. Mia is 2.5 years older than Brian. I will let your brain work out whether that means she was 19 or 20 when he arrived, lol, because mine just started playing the "but WAS SHE?" game with me when I went to write the answer for you and I don't trust myself. It's such a simple thing yet I just got a request for overtime from the department that does calculations so apparently it isn't.

Dom and Brian's Mark is fairly abstract and they just both think it looks like fog in headlights after a speeding car cuts through it so it's not something that needed to be full saturation for Dom to have thoughts about what it looked like when it was coming in. Yes though, in that story he was referencing it was right before his 6th birthday. In retrospect I probably should have just had him say 6 in that section, lol, because I've gotten questions about that before further complicated by me not remembering what I said about Marks coming in early in the story vs. how I thought about it in my head not lining up. My dream goal is someday when the series is done I want to go through and read it and smooth out those type of bits where there's a little disconnect and that would likely be something that I would fix just to make it easier for readers to reconcile.

For me, Dom was about 16 when Teresa died and about 19 when Tony died. That does mean that Mia was a minor. Dom mentions at one point that his aunts and uncles had to step up to keep their lives running and yes, that does mean that for awhile she was under an aunt's custody.

Our parental timeline and making everyone younger means, for me, that in MiT Dom wasn't in Lompoc for very long. He would have been a teenager with a recently deceased mother and a very recently deceased father trying to run their family business and raise his sister - a lawyer would have painted such a sob story for him. All of his priors at that point would have been racing related and Vince mentions at one point something along the lines of "when was the last time we were arrested for speeding? freshman year?" (if you're not American that's ~14ish years old) so it's not like there were loads of arrests for them to throw in the judge's face to make him impose a harsh sentence. What I'm saying is that Dom's sentence was more than a slap on the wrist but it also wasn't nearly what it could have been. Shorter parole/community service when he gets out. All that to say for me he was in barely a year. Less, probably.

The Market is a family business (there's actually a little section in MiT5 that discusses a bit more how they run it) and thus not something Dom started himself. I imagine the garage was opened VERY shortly after he got out. Currently Dom hasn't said much about the logistics of that so I won't either ;)

Vince is Dom's age. I imagine the drinking problem started while Dom was in and started getting out of control after he was out and they were living a little more wildly. Their intervention would have been a good year or two before Brian arrived to them. Leon and Jade are also around the same age.

I think I hit all of your questions but happy to clarify where I can or offer up any more if any spark! Again, sorry I can't be firm-firm in some of this, I hope why makes sense :)

Thank you for asking!! I'm feeling so much more energized now that I've realized that I'm over halfway through MiT5 and this kind of thing gives my brain something Brian related to chew on while I work through it with renewed determination!