#and the other half is actually working with the kids

[dunmeshistash]

Cleaning up my inbox so I'll compile some asks I got

You might mean "What if the bones weren't Falin's" or "what if Laios was eaten" I'll just put them here since it's been a little bit since the what if's have been out

It is pretty cool! The fact we meet two elves right away is also interesting, makes them seem more common than they are. Sometimes I wonder if Fionil being a half-elf too was a retcon but honestly even if it is it stays cool

WELL, there's no cucking evidences I shall protect my client's good name as an non-cucked chilled chuck

It might have been fan made I don't really remember anything like that... the closest one I remember is the "monsters that steal your heart" cover from chapter 60

Here's a similar (but not quite the same) ask

I don't think we get much more info besides the succubus monster tidbits and the description in his profile, we do see more of another member from it (Dandan) in this extra

True, I like how the elves we meet are the misfits of their society, honestly it's true for other characters, lots of them aren't the "default" for what is common for their respective races.

Like how Senshi is a dwarf that doesn't like 'smiting, Tansu is an angry stressed gnome, Mickbell is a half-foot that likes to be treated as a kid, lots of the dwarves (who are described to have tight knit comunities) are outcasts etc etc. Very fun cause true to real life I sure am not the default for what people expect from Brazilians.

[insert a funny answer here]

There's actually way more old asks in my inbox than I expected so I might answer a few more later, sorry again for everyone that send asks and I didn't get to it!

[frodo-with-glasses]

Where have you been?

Uhhh, France?

(That’s a Hamilton reference, btw. I have never been to France.)

So! Another Hobbit Day is upon us. On this day last year, I’d promised you all that we would take another trek through LotR, with all new drawings and poems and fanfics. I fully expected to be finished with Book One by now, at least halfway through FotR. What actually happened is that the blog struggled through the first five and a half chapters of the book before suddenly going radio silent.

So what happened?

Well, as you might expect, real life happened. I won't go into the details here—since it has nothing to do with LotR—but I can explain in DMs if anyone is interested.

Basically, a change in my family led to a reexamination of what I thought I knew about my family, which led to a reexamination of what I thought I knew about myself, which kicked off an intense period of self-improvement.

Over the course of this past year, I began to unpack my family's abuse; I learned about boundaries; I started to unlearn my old people-pleasing tendencies; I reconnected relationships that were broken, reevaluated ones that were in the wrong place, and cut off ones that weren't good for me. I discovered there was a little kid in my head who's been waiting years and years for an adult to love her, and to take her needs seriously, and I finally have the chance to be that adult. And I'm happy to say that I've come to a place where I feel safer in my own head than I have ever been.

Probably very little of that is going to show through on this blog. It's all inward stuff; foundational stuff. But one thing that might affect you guys is that I left my (dreadfully overstimulating and stressful) part-time job, and I'm now working full time somewhere else. As much as I love what I do for a living now, working 40 hours a week does mean that I am become Boring Adult who does not have as much time for interneting. With my current schedule, there is no way I'd be able to sustain the intense schedule of "must post one drawing a day" that I had in the early days of this blog; and I don't expect myself to.

But! I would like to—slowly—get this train rolling again.

I find it hilariously apropos that the last piece of art I posted on this blog was of Frodo suddenly disappearing. From Merry's perspective, he completely vanished without explanation or warning. From your perspective, so did I.

But I find myself here again, on another September 22nd, and once again I'm beginning to feel that pull; that pull to read, and draw, and create, and share, and laugh with all of you. Life has calmed down enough for me that I once again have the mental space to think about pursuing my hobbies. There are so many things I want to do—so much to do with the time that is given to me. And I want this blog to be on that list.

My current goal is to post some new book art every other day. If that's too much, I'll adjust it. But if I find my groove and really get into it, who knows? We might return to your regularly scheduled Daily Dose of Frodo-With-Glasses. We shall have to see.

Anyway. If you've read this far, thank you! If you've stuck with this blog since the early days, thank you. And if you are one of that lovely core Fellowship that has had my back and prayed for me all along, I cannot thank you enough.

This past year has been an absolute ride. Not as difficult as a trek to Mordor, maybe, but not easy either. But no matter where I walked, I knew I didn't have to take the journey alone.

Anyway! Enough sappiness. Happy Hobbit Day! I'm excited to see what the next year has in store for us. 💚

[saltnsugarbear]

I'm forever black-eyed, a product of a broken home

summary: boxer!lip gallagher headcanons and foundation building <3

title from: "Black-Eyed" by Placebo

word count: 1.4k

content warnings: I mean, like boxing is an aggressive sport so, she gets dirty at the end so MDNI!!!, choking kink mention, cumplay mentioned

side note: was originally soft and world building and doing research for boxing but,,,,, olive politely ruined all those thoughts

just some simple thoughts to begin! to test the waters!

-a middleweight boxer, just to begin. on a good week he could qualify for light heavyweight but he's properly enrolled in the middeweight division

-which just, is no commentary on JAW, however doing some looking into and looking for the general weight of a healthy 5'7" man puts him somewhere in the middleweight/barely light heavyweight division. but if we consider the Gallagher household income and diet they probably have, Lip is 100% in the middleweight division

-Lip is most well known for his jabs and uppercuts, his style is very agressive

-he's also known for taking a heavy beating in just about every fight he has.

-carl was big into Rambo, constantly playing First Blood when he could. so he naturally tried to see if any of Stallone's movies where similar. Lip was somehow enamored with Rocky when they borrowed it from the library.

-Carl didn't love Rocky like at all lmao, he wanted more fighting in there. Debbie loved Rocky and Adrian's relationship, she thinks they're adorable and romantic.

-This idea hinges on Lip being more aggressive in high school, getting into a lot more fights. This might be due to bullying or just being an overall aggressive kid with little dog syndrome

-At a certain point he's threatened with juvie and or foster care or he can put his anger into something more productive. Lip chose the latter.

-Kevin suggests boxing and even offers to help teach him if he wanted

-he does that thing that boys do where he thinks he can do it all by himself because he watched a movie about it a few times (he's seen every Rocky movie he can get his hands on)

-however jumping right into boxing is much harder than he thought it would be (surprise!) (dummy /affectionate)

-Lip is out of shape, has smokers lungs, and just,,,,, does not know how to throw a proper punch lmao

-so the first day at the gym he's dying

-soooo he goes to Kevin with his tail between his legs and begs him to teach him how to box

-now Kevin is FIT like

-like FIT.

-and Kevin is more than happy to help train Lip

-so through out high-school he spends his free time at the gym after he's done his homework and the work of kids who have paid him

-he gets fit, builds some muscle, adopts a slightly healthier diet

-once he's in college he gets a slightly less regimented schedule due to being out of the house

-he gets a little out of shape, doesn't do as many workouts and sparing matches as he should

-so when he drops out of college he goes back starts getting back into shape to actually start fighting!!

-sigh not to bring back Patsy's reader but like you probably work at Patsy's or maybe the Alibi Room??? some where he and his family frequent a lot!

-and he's just kind of like,,,, a little punk who wants your attention so bad lowkey cause like

-you mind your business! nice, respectful, keeps to themselves

-what he doesn't know is you're so drawn to him cause you've been watching the muscled guy dote on his baby brother and his sister and his other brother

-but also he's a punkass!!

-so you eventually entertain him and go on dates with him and he's

-yeah he's cocky about his stats but he's also just so sweet

-he starts doing fights for money a little before you guys start dating

-uses half his fighting earnings for his family, the other half he's got his own squirrel fund going

-when you guys are dating, he uses that other half to spoil you <3

-this next one is from Maggie's brain but I love it

-watching him during training, when he doesn't really need to wear his gloves, and seeing him send people flat to the ground is,,,,

-mind boggling, as his partner

-because you know that those hands are soft and loving

-just that morning, he was holding your face softly and memorizing each detail he could get his fingers on

-the night before, his hands were firm but soft on your thighs

-so seeing him knock grown men flat is mind boggling anddddd I mean you can guess right?

-turns you on a little bit that's what I'm getting at

-whenever olive comes in it becomes a whore house 🙄 (SO AFFECTIONATE I LOVE YOU OLIVE AND YOUR DIRTY MIND THANK YOU THANK YOU)

-olive thinks boxer lip has a choking kink and she would be correct

-which feeds into her bicep kink whatever whatever we love her

-fucking him in the locker room after good fight and he's not super busted up (you guys seen what Rocky looks like? busted eyelids and shit) (not lip, he's gonna have a bruise and a little cut be he's okay <3)

-he's very sweaty and very pent up and running off the adrenaline of the fight and winning

-also wearing his boxing shorts around!! just comfy clothes

-but we was talking about him fucking you in his robe which is very KVE of him *I've not seen Iron Claw I'm just saying what I've seen from the girlies

-I just think he kind of loves seeing Gallagher painted across your shoulders (or even your ass if he's got it on his shorts)

-but also he would have like a fun stage name guys what do we think his stage name would be

-like The Italian Stallion fucks like Rocky Balboa ate with that

-but he could also just be Lip

-Lip 🥰 in the blue corner <3

-whereas 🥵The Italian Stallion🥵 in the red corner?

-idk help guys

-anyways boxer lip has some CRAZY stamina

-like

-like CRAZY stamina

-you think you're ready to conk out after two rounds? yeah well Lips not so

-but he's soso sweet about it

-I'm back I've done some research and my idea works, walk with me

-this man is horny, we all know that like

-like he's HORNY

-anyways he goes like

-like crazy

-he's got one of your legs up over his shoulder, the other pressed up against his side where it's wrapped around his middle

-he has already made you come twice and your thirds on the way

-the squelching as he fucks you is pornographic, and he fucking loves it

-you simply cannot think, he's kept you teetering on the edge of overstimulation but all you can focus on is the feeling of him fucking into you, his shoulder flexing under your leg

-and he's being soso sweet cooing in your ear, telling you how good you feel, how he's going to fill you up so nice and you just need to go one more round with him after cause he wants to make sure you remember him before he fights later

-your third orgasm is what draws out Lip's first orgasm

-he's really gentle about how he rolls his hips into you, you can feel the mixture of both your release slipping out of you

-he's pressing soft, soft kisses to your face, telling you how good you are and how you feel just sooo good

-you can feel his cock twitch inside of you and the slow beginnings of him getting hard again

-and he's just being so

-"Come on baby, just need one more from ya" "Gonna let me fill you one more time?" "gotta make sure it sticks baby" "Wanna make sure you remember me when I'm up in the ring"

-and who are you to deny his soft pleas

-HELP WAIT GUYS GUYS

-so like after he reaches his second orgasm inside of you and he pulls out, he cannot stop looking at where the mix of you release slips out of you

-and he's hard again this punk

-but, you're just so sleepy and so floaty

-so Lip gets himself off above you, fucking himself into his hand using both of your guys cum as a lubricant

-anyways blah blah, he paints your tummy in his cum, it reaches just under your chest and this feeds into the marking thing he's got

-someone stop this man he's tooooo horny

-anyways he cleans you up (collects the cum he can and slips it into you, pushing it softly into you with his fingers, trying to keep the rest of your release from slipping out even more)

-but as you're drifting off, he makes sure to clean you up, dress you back in some cozy sleep clothes

-boxer lip the beloved

[ashenquill]

It's time to info dump about my character headcanons some moreeeee I love spreading my agenda on the internet hehe

Mumbo Killsalot Jumbo is one of those ambiguous types where you can't tell if he's actually a hybrid or not? Like, there's something a little bit... off about him. Something distinctly non-human. Also he's a really weird guy, which makes even less sense, because at this point hybrids are like 60% of the population, and nobody bats(ha) an eye at them anymore, so it's not like he needs to hide it. But he is, in fact, secretly a vampire. Or at least, he's 1/16th vampire or something like that. He just remembers this one guy named Vlad who he refused to believe was actually his great-grandpa because he's literally, like thirty? How on Earth would he have been old enough to father children with children with children? Mumbo started believing it when he saw him again ten years later and he hadn't changed in the slightest. Suddenly, the strict nobody open the curtains rule made a lot more sense.

Now, even though Mumbo is technically a vampire, his family is primarily human. The only reason they even have vampiric origins is because Great-grandpa Vlad got turned at the ripe age of 27, and wasn't about to abandon his wife over his new and very serious garlic allergy. She thought it was all one big prank he was pulling to get out of working on the farm, but after twenty years and seven kids, she realized that being a stay-at-home dad was definitely not taking the toll it should.

Mumbo and his immediate family have retained a few of the traits they inherited from Vlad, but it manifests in very mild coincidences. His mom is allergic to garlic and his dad has a strange Scarland-Princess-like affiliation with bats. Mumbo, meanwhile, really got the short end of the stick, as he can't expose his shoulders to sunlight without them miraculously burning (he's gone through more bottles of M-77 brand sunscreen than he'd care to quantify). Not to mention the insomnia! He'd be lucky to get two hours of sleep on an average night, and the fact that the only affect it really has on him is making his eyes look baggy is truly an injustice. Wasn't insomnia supposed to cause other serious health problems? How could he even complain about it if he wasn't constantly overtired? Rather inconvenient, that.

Don't ask my why I have so much lore for this guy when I don't even write him that often. It's just the Mumbo Jumbo allure, I guess

Here's some other fun facts:

Smells like iron/copper (metallic)

Book smart - special knowledge of redstone

Likes: cloud gazing, embroidery, old westerns/duels/guns, rubix cubes (only to look at though, bro can’t solve them for shit)

Dislikes: designing floor plans, social interaction, eye contact

Passions: philanthropy, travel

Habits/other details: Super fidgety like holy shit he never stops moving, picks at his nails and has lots of scabs & hangnails bc of it, he is littered with cuts and bruises of unknown origin, also usually covered in redstone & he mistakes his blood for it half the time, can’t tell if he’s ADHD, ASD, or both (deffo both)

Reactive to their environment - does not like to be around danger most of the time, would rather watch from afar, would rather not even watch tyvm, too bad he’s always a victim, #easytarget, your honor he’s just a wet cat

Special, plot-relevant skills: good w/ redstone, rich asf

Insomniac, also has RLS, always tired but it’s not very obvious, mostly just has dumb blonde moments, his intelligence would be 10% more if he actually slept, what the heck Vlad why'd you have to get bit by a vampire

[eggedbellies]

Thank @bunoven64 for this one, folks!

Title: The Reunion Wordcount: 2787 Kinks: transformation, tit expansion/ass expansion, milf, hucow, cow transformation, lactation, breeding, cum inflation, lesbian. Synopsis: Jacob has spent more time than he'd like to admit trying to plan a good school reunion. However, when only two people decide to show up, he decides it's a good enough time to get revenge for how shit they were to him back at school.

The music was on, a soft muzak that was inoffensive enough to work as nothing more than background noise, avoiding any weird silences. A table was set against one wall, covered in the standard nibbles – carrot sticks, chips, little sandwiches and cakes. Yes, it was all perfect – a few banners, paper plates, CLASS OF ‘96 dangling from the ceiling. The reunion had been Jacob’s idea. After so long since they’d finished school, considering the fact they were in their thirties now, seemed like a great idea to all get back together. It was only as he’d been sending out invites that he’d really remembered just what a shitstorm that schooling had been. Half of these people he was sending out invites to had been complete assholes to him whilst he was growing up. And sure, he bet a bunch of them had matured and bettered themselves, but honestly? He didn’t give a shit. This was going to be the best opportunity he’d ever had to get some petty revenge.

Sure, he’d been an awkward nerd when he was a kid. More interested in science than anything else, only that had gone on to be a great boon for him – utterly smashing through his university education, Jacob had been working officially for a lab for a good few years now. Making good money, sure, but also working on his own ideas how that he had access to the laboratory that could actually handle what he had in mind. Yet as time shifted closer to the planned date, he was getting more and more rejections. Damnit all, after all the time and effort he’d put into this… some people just never responded to his messages and invites. Others said they were busy, couldn’t get there, out of the country, babysitting, a dozen other stupid fucking reasons… and then, finally, he had a clear yes!

Two of them.

Well, that would make his revenge easier, even if it would be more obvious… but he couldn’t help but smile at the names that were floating in the ‘coming’ section. Amy and Zoe. God, he remembered them – they had taken great pleasure in taunting him. Amy was maybe a little kinder than Zoe, but he definitely remembered the mockery and laughing, the teasing, taunting. They’d gotten hot early, after all, and ruled the school. A quick browse on their profiles online had showed that they hadn’t changed much – both of them were still stunning. He scrolled past pictures on the beach in Ibiza, all skimpy bikinis and blonde hair, clutching colourful cocktails in clubs… Zoe’s were a little more under control, at least, but still… he could feel himself half hard just looking at those images. In his mind, he ran over the serum that he’d been working on… yes. It would be so fucking perfect.

Stirring the pink punch he’d made, mostly fruit juices, a few good glugs of vodka and a splash of sugar syrup, he grinned, pouring himself a tall glass – before reaching into his pocket, sliding out a small silver case. Clicking it carefully open, he searched through before finding the correct vial, checking the label, then tilting it carefully into the bowl. It vanished inside – with any luck, the bitterness would be lost in the alcohol. A few more good stirs, and he took a tiny sip of his own glass. They’d never know.

The doorbell pinged, and Jacob looked around, trying not to grin too widely. He’d called for smart-casual, wearing a comfortable tee with smart jeans, a nice watch, smart shirt open over top. His hair had been carefully styled, too, so he was confident that he looked nice – showing off the muscle he’d gained, the way his jaw had chiselled in, and the arguably much more attractive man he was since he’d come into himself. Opening the door, he gestured widely; it was Zoe, the taller of the two who’d agreed to come, dressed in a smart black and white dress, shallow heels, her blonde hair hanging straight and smooth. Wow. As stunning as ever, of course; his smile was a little more genuine now.

“Hey! Wow, thank you for coming,” he said, brightly, gesturing in, “Come grab some punch, have some snacks, you’re the first one here.” “Hello! Jacob, you look fantastic,” she replied, with a beam, giving his shoulder a squeeze as she stepped in, “I didn’t know you lived all the way out here! You have a gorgeous house,” she effused, glancing around, as if surprised there was nobody else there yet. He didn’t miss the way her eyes lingered on his framed accolades, a picture of him with an award, a sad lack of any sign of partner or family… not that he hadn’t been thinking about it. Especially recently. His eyes lingered on her fine form, although she was lacking somewhat when it came to her butt and tits… still, carried herself confidently to the point it was easy to miss.

“Oh, thanks, yeah,” he said, with a light laugh, “I work in bioengineering -” he was interrupted by the ring of the doorbell again, turning to open the door and reveal Amy. She was just as stunning as ever, of course, hair up in messy waves, a bright beam on her face, a skimpy, neon pink jumpsuit just about covering her body, ridiculously high heels, and clearly wearing some kind of push up bra because her tits were threatening to explode out of her top. Oh, fuck, this was going to be so very delicious. “Amy! Oh, so nice to see you, thanks for coming, come on in, come in come in -” he gestured, and she tottered over the doorjamb, leaning in to give him a surprisingly glittery hug, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Zoe!” she exclaimed, spotting the other. Whilst the two caught up, he moved to the side of the punch bowl, careful to make sure his own glass didn’t get mixed up with the others. Carrying them over to the girls, he barely absorbed any of the conversation – letting them talk, accepting the glasses with a smile, eyes fixating as they started to drink them. He was polite enough as was needed, picking up on little bits of information – both of them were single, no kids, Amy still a party girl, Zoe working in an office… he tucked all of that away for later thoughts. And it made his plan seem so much fairer…

As time slipped by, nobody else arrived, but that was fine. Oh, yes, it was fine. The punch was having it’s effect. Both of the women had a bright flush high in their cheeks, and had been getting closer and closer. Two glasses deep, and then they were kissing, moaning softly on the couch as Jacob watched. He was flush himself, rock hard, his pants uncomfortably tight against the pressure of his cock… but he had to bide his time, just a little bit longer…

“Hey, girls,” he said, finally, unable to wait any more. “Why don’t we take this upstairs? I have a cali king…” at their blank looked, eyes a little glossy, strings of saliva between their mouths, he couldn’t help how his grin twisted. All those insults, all those nights hating himself, all the teasing… oh, yes, he was going to be so kind to them both, considering how shitty they’d made him feel. “It’s a really big bed.” he explained, realising his words might be a little too smart for their aphrodisiac blunted brains. That was all it took, though, to draw them upstairs; and it was true, his bed was huge, taking up the majority of the room. The girls fell onto it, hands groping against each other’s skin, sliding up dresses to get underneath, and of course Amy wasn’t even wearing underwear as the pantsuit was torn open… he licked his lips, desperate to get some relief, but he had to keep his eyes on the prize. After all, he didn’t want them to be pissed when they came down from that aphrodisiac high, no.

He was going to make them feel so good they’d never care again.

“Hey, Amy, do you wanna try something cool?” he said, breathlessly, reaching in for his little silver case. The vial he’d earmarked for her was in his fingertips, now, as she giggled coquettishly, looking over at him, tits hanging loose now that Zoe had undone her bra. “What is it?” she asked, blinking her eyelashes at him – she was definitely more out of it than the taller woman, who was staring at Jacob, eyes sharp enough to be cautious. Making out with another woman was one thing, but strange vials?

“It’s going to make you feel so fucking good,” Jacob said, quietly, “You know how you always wanted bigger tits?” “I was meant to get a boob job,” Amy pouted, “But I had to spend the money on a car, ugh!” it wasn’t like her tits were lacking, but he always remembered her talking about how sad it was that Daddy wasn’t letting her sink all her money into some silicon. And now …

“I can give you the real thing.” he said, holding out the vial, “Down in one. It’s a bit bitter, so just swallow it all.” “Amy…” Zoe said, slowly, “Are you really gonna drink that?” she tilted her head, smooth hair slightly messier from where Amy’s hands had been tangling in them. “What if it’s like… bad..?” she giggled, struggling with her words, starting to grind on her own hand, the aphrodisiacs and heat built up in her body making it hard to focus on what she was saying. “Trust me,” Jacob said, softly, “I’m a bioengineer. This is what I do. I make this stuff. It’s fully tested and safe. I just want you to feel good.” he smiled, sliding his hand down to his cock, now, starting to stroke himself, already drooling pre. Amy and Zoe’s eyes were drawn to it, but he didn’t care. Amy looked at the vial, then shrugged, cracking it and downing it. Almost immediately, she gasped; head dropping back as she moaned, grabbing ahold of her tits.

He hadn’t, admittedly, managed to take it to human trials yet. But it was a great source of pride – and more fuel for his rock hard erection – as she fell back, massaging her nipples as the breast flesh began to swell. She was already a C cup, plenty big, but it was fantastic – oh, yes, fuck, she was moaning like a whore as she twitched, grabbing and massaging and pressing, going from a handful to bulging over the sides, and then more. She was flushed across her face, down her chest, legs twitching wide. Taking the opportunity, just as turned on as Jacob seemed to be, Zoe dived in, starting to lick and spread Amy’s lips. She howled in pleasure, both from her tits growing and the sensation of a tongue against her clit, ballooning from C to D and then up to a G cup before they slowed, sitting heavy as she massaged the sides.

“Oh, fuck, fuck,” Amy moaned, eyes shut, lost completely in it. Jacob leaned in close, now, throwing off the last of his clothes before kissing her roughly, stroking over her tender new tit-flesh with his big hands. She shuddered, utterly lost in it all. Fuck, he wanted to cum on her… pulling back, Jacob kneeled on the edge of the bed, stroking his cock a few rough motions before he arched his back, moaning as he came hard. Splattering her new tits with his seed, he caught his breath slowly, looking at her twisting form.

Zoe, her face covered in slick, peered up at him now, glazed eyes.

“Do you want yours?” he asked, a little breathless, wiggling the penultimate vial in her eyes. She hesitated, and then reached out, snatching it. “I always thought you could do better with bigger tits. A fatter ass. You’d make a good mother, wouldn’t you?” Jacob whispered, “I’d love to see you all full and knocked up…” she moaned, flushing, “Perfect breeding cow, hm, Zoe?” he asked, and then she was swallowing the vial. Amy was still squirming around behind him, but he only had eyes for Zoe, now, as the changes started with her. Tits starting to expand, swelling, rocketing up in size – tearing the black and white dress she was wearing, which hadn’t been shifted nearly as much as Amy’s clothing. She squirmed; Jacob cracked the last of the vials, swallowing it himself. It was a much more subtle drug, this one, but he had tested t his one before, knew exactly what was coming. And it was going to feel so much better, doing it inside her instead.

The ache in his lower belly and balls burned, nothing visible on the outside, but he could feel himself churning away. Oh, yes, he was going to make a mother of Zoe… reaching out, he helped remove the last bits of her torn clothing. She was squirming – not just her tits, although she was grasping at them desperately, massaging, as the rest of her wraithlike body began to thicken. Hips were widening; her butt and thighs stating to thicken up, making her into a proper busty milf. Grabbing her hips, he pulled her closer to him, spreading his fingers into the thickening flesh on her upper legs. Yes, wonderful – from slender to a perfect figure. Made for breeding. Her eyes were glazed over in the pleasure of it all.

Stroking his cock was almost unnecessary, as he was already hard again. He didn’t doubt he would be, watching this sexy show, but the drug he’d taken was getting to work. Lining up carefully, he slid inside her hot, wet folds, feeling her twitch and tense around his cock. Leaning up, torso against her twitching tits, he kissed her roughly, and Zoe kissed back just as eagerly, legs lifting up around his hips. Feeling her swelling and shifting below him, around him, was a whole new kind of bliss. Let alone the wet noises and moans as Amy fingered herself, watching the pair of them as they fucked.

He drove his cock in and out like a piston, lost in the music of Amy’s moans, the way her hips rocked up to meet him – already he was so close. He’d done this to her, changed her from the uptight, cocky bitch she had been once to a perfect milf for him – and she was so lost in it. Yes, he’d given them a great gift at this union – not only a perfect body that they’d been craving all this time, but he was going to give her everything she’d wanted… a family, after all… “Fuck, Zoe -” he moaned, “I’m so close -”

“Breed me,” she gasped, “Please, Jacob – fuck – mooooo -” she broke off into a low, and he barely even registered it, leaning in to kiss her fat tits, drawing a nipple into his mouth as he rolled back.

It took a great amount of strength, but he tugged her up, balancing her on his hips as he bounced, a few more rough juts, gravity drawing her onto his cock and then he was finally coming. He sucked extra hard against her nipple, eyes shut, face buried into her beautiful fat cow tits, as his cock throbbed, and throbbed, and throbbed. His cum kept flooding into her – he felt the weight shifting, her moans nothing more than hot, heavy cow moos, accepting her place as a perfect breeding cow, it seemed. He reached up a hand to stroke over her belly, feeling as it started to round out, packing her with his hot cum. Unexpectedly, hot creamy milk began to drool into his mouth, then spurt. Swallowing eagerly, Jacob looked up at Zoe above him – seeing the horns curling from her head, the big soft ears, and the deep brown eyes. Oh, shit. Maybe he’d put a little too much cow into the mix – she was still mostly human, of course, but – oh, fuck. No wonder she was pouring milk down his throat, lowing softly, lost in the feeling.

Exhausted, Jacob laughed softly; as Zoe slowly shifted off his cock, drooling cum from her twitching hole, she slumped back herself. Amy wasted no time leaning in, lapping the cum from her friend’s lips, draped over Jacob’s legs. Oh, fuck. They were both so beautiful… tits so big she was laying part on them, and Zoe’s little tail twitching, hand stroking over the cum packed orb of her belly… yes. This had been an excellent reunion. Jacob couldn’t wait for the next one.

[hurtspideyparker]

Emotional Support Intern Peter Parker

Tony and Peter finally arrive in the large room, polished leather Oxfords and stained-lace Converse making their way through the crowd of professionals. Tony has a hand on Peter's back guiding him, because no matter how many meetings, conferences, and office buildings they traverse together, Peter always manages to get lost the second Tony lets go. 

Thankfully Pepper is easy to spot, shaking hands with some blah blah from wee woo Industries. Her hair is the only splash of colour in the constant white black grey of everyone's pencil skirts and collared shirts. 

"Hi Ms. Potts!" Peter greets as soon as the woman turns and spots them. 

"Hi Peter—Tony. I told you to stop bringing the kid to these things. No offense Peter."

"None taken! You look lovely, did you get your hair done?"

Pepper's hair cascades over her shoulder in perfect curls, splayed out over her white button-up. 

"Yes actually, a trim and some highlights. I think she went shorter than I asked though, because I always get half an inch, and this does not look like half an inch."

Peter steps a bit closer and squints at the piece of copper hair she's holding out. 

"I think it's just because she curled it. You usually get it blow dried after."

"Hm. I think you're right actually."

Tony rolls his eyes, "I'm so glad you guys are having such a great slumber party. C'mon kid I have to avoid that senator and he's starting to glance this way." He tries to head over to some tall plants that happen to be great blind spots. 

"Ah ah ah Tony! We are talking about this. I told you to stop dragging Peter to all of your work responsibilities. I'm sure he's bored to death with these meetings and work events."

"Pep, he's an intern, he's supposed to be bored and taken advantage of. Besides, if you take away my emotional support intern then I simply wouldn't show up! So."

"You aren't even paying him for his time!" Pepper says at the same time Peter mumbles "emotional support intern?"

"Um excuse me, that 3 million dollar suit he stuffs between his math homework and Go-Gurt begs to differ. And anyways, I pay him with experience. I brought him to that seminar in LA on Saturday, and he's following me to Tokyo for that week long conference in July. I highly doubt he's complaining," he squeezes the boy's shoulders, Peter looking up and beaming at him and Pepper. 

"I'm really fine with it Ms. Potts. Besides, the more of these things I go to the more lab time I get!" Peter pipes in.

Pepper glares at Tony. "Really, bribery?" 

"Okay well, if us grown adults don't want to be here how else am I supposed to get a 15 year old to talk about environmental reform to people who don't even believe in climate change." 

Pepper and Tony hold each other's stares.

"You mean he spoke to Mr. Ellis about the generator you designed for his carbon plant, and it didn't end with him calling us a pansy corporation and you calling him a decrepit geezer who's business is the only thing that's going to die quicker than he is?"

There's barely stiffled hope supressed under Pepper's professionalism. 

Tony smirks. "Yep, I think Mr. Ellis even smiled. The kid's got charm! Who knew."

Pepper glances at Peter in consideration. 

"Peter have you ever considered pursuing anything further in business? Engineering is great, but if you really want to be successful it's incredibly important to build interpersonal skills, leadership, and even current market and finance knowledge. I mean you might want to sell your designs one day, or start a company." 

"Oh, I haven't really-"

"You could shadow me! I mean interning with a CEO is a once in a lifetime opportunity, it would give you a glowing resume, and I know a lot more about this stuff than Tony. He didn't even perform his executive duties when he actually was the CEO."

Pepper has that gleam in her eyes, the one she gets when men call her sweetheart, or when Tony isn't even dressed for their reservation that started ten minutes ago. 

It means she's already had the argument in her head. 

Peter is still stuttering, flustered with this side of Pepper. Her business face isn't usually directed at him, and it's a far cry from the woman who sends him home with leftovers from dinner. 

"Wait wait wait, are you trying to steal my intern?" Tony asks incredulously. 

"If anyone even needs an intern Tony it would be me. I have to babysit you and the company, meanwhile you just need him to hand you wrenches. Competent help is hard to find these days and you're wasting his talents." 

"Um, excuse me, he's the only thing keeping me together. You already have your fancy day planner and Excel spreadsheets, I need him to get me out of the house. He's the only thing keeping me a responsible adult, if you take away my emotional support intern then I will not attend a single meeting for the rest of the quarter." 

"You are such a man child!"

"La la la la can't hear youuu," Tony says with his fingers in his ears.

"Um, guys, I think people are staring."

Peter tugs on the corner of Tony's sleeve to get him to unplug his ears, glancing nervously at the groups of people sending them judgemental stares. The three of them give a wave and pleasant smile, most of the crowd continuing to move along on the grey carpet at the sight of their unsettling synchronicity and false turn of the lips. 

Pepper speaks through her teeth, a grin still presented at passers-by. "Fine, you can keep him, but only because he's doing half my job for me. The only person you can emotionally regulate around and it's a teenager. I'm glad you finally found someone who can keep you entertained." 

"Love you too honey," Tony says while putting a hand on the small of her back and kissing her cheek. He sighs, looking around the room at all the government officials who think these tech companies are spying on them. 

Apparently a surveillance state is only cool when they do it to manipulate their incarceration numbers, rig elections and lobby votes, and not for data mining and targeted ads. 

"I say we hit the cheese and crackers, take an awkward amount of sips from those tiny water bottles, and then speak to some old ladies till we have to do our presentation."

"Sounds great Mr. Stark. Will you make sure they don't grab my face again? I smelled like old lady perfume at school and Flash started making fun of me for stealing people's grandmas."

Tony looks into Peter's eyes questioningly and finds nothing but sincerity and resignation in them. 

"Well. Not my fault your cheeks are so gosh darn cute. But I'll do my best," he wraps an arm around the shorter and starts heading through the room again. 

The weight is comforting. Peter used to get anxious at these events, but Tony never leaves his side and is always looking at him like he's the Michaelangelo in the center of every room. He became accustomed to being Mr. Stark's favourite part of the event. While that may not seem difficult, especially considering the droning lectures and snooty company, it always feels special making jokes about people's ridiculous work jargon, and comparing the staleness of crackers at conferences. 

"Emotional support intern huh?" he says smugly. 

Tony glances at him, but instead of scoffing or denying anything, he just speaks with honesty. "You and Pepper are the best, most important things to this company. And to me. I'm really glad you're here kid."

Peter doesn't know what to say. The words stick in his throat while Tony hands him a water bottle with the lid already cracked. 

Peter has super strength; It's completely unnecessary to open his bottle for him. He doesn't point this out. Tony will do it at the next meeting, just like he did at the last one, and Peter will never mention it.

[fordpinesthemanyouare]

Ford x Fem!Reader

Math Assistant Pt.1

Summary: Ford needs himself an assistant, Stanley makes an online post for him and BOOM there you are, coming to meet him for an interview at the diner.

Warnings: Erm... this is a nothing sandwich I THINK. Please let me know if I should add something

A/N: My brothers in christ please this is my first fic that I wrote on a whim, I had an idea and I started writing. I have never written fan ficiton in my life so pls be nice... also who up wit dey werm to Stanford Pines HOOBA HOOBA!!!!! Okay also I want to write SMUT for this so imagine this is like the really really really long winded plot to the porno. K thanks bye read if u want or dont i dont control you.

——————

Ford shook his head at Stanley who was seated in front of a new computer now placed in the living room, “I’m still confused on why we should be posting the ad listing “online” rather than the local paper, or putting up flyers around town.” Ford used air quotes for emphasis, he still found the whole idea strange, he liked the computer for being a tool he could use to further research. He didn't like it so much as a vessel for finding candidates for a job he was offering, the thought that he had no idea who was communicating with him unsettled him a bit. Especially knowing the kind of work he was going to be having this future assistant… well assist with.

“Because yer never going to find someone with the qualifications yer asking for in this town” Stan looked over his shoulder at a crossed arm Ford. “Hiring someone for a summer job who has a PhD in Application Math, whatever that means-“

“Applied Mathematics, Stanley” Ford interrupted.

“Whatever it is you're not going to find that here, you and fiddleford are probably the only people in this town to actually have a college degree” he said with a chuckle, turning back to the computer. He was clicking around on some website that Ford had never heard of, let alone just recently finding out what the internet was. “I'm setting up a job listing on some of the local college websites, ya know for people that are studying or just done studying”. The clicking of the mouse and the typing of keys continued as Ford ran the motion through his head, overthinking perhaps every outcome of Stanley posting that job listing. Ultimately though Ford knew he was right in that, no one with at least a degree in Applied Mathematics was going to be residing nearby.

“Just please be careful about the information you include in this job posting, try to keep it minimal as possible. If they ask more questions about specifics you can let them know that I can explain in person.”

Stan looked over his shoulder, his eyebrows slightly downturned with a smirk rising on his face, “I didn’t realize you had hired me to be your assistant, you're going to have to cough up if you want me to do this for you”. Ford groaned in annoyance of his brother, “Stanley you know I don’t know how to use any of that”.

“Exactly why you're going to want to have me help you out with this”, Stanley moved his arm to drape across the back of the chair he was in, looking more directly at him. “That’ll be twenty dollars”, he held out his hand expectantly at his twin. A beat of silence passed between the two as they had a small staring contest, both men’s brows furrowed at the other.

Ford finally reached for his back pocket after he felt he had glared at his brother enough, he slipped a twenty dollar bill from the leather wallet and practically slammed it in his hand before walking in the opposite direction without a word. While Stan on the other hand, was more than beaming when he saw Ford’s hand fall to his back pocket, Stan half shouted as Ford strode out of the room.

“You’ll thank me later when I find the perfect candidate!” He laughed as he said it and returned to more clicking and typing around the website.

Ford returned to the lab to finish up some things before the kids were scheduled to get there later in the month. When they returned from the long months at the ocean, Ford wanted nothing more than to work on something in his lab again. He loved feeling the anticipation of a project becoming something, but of course he knew he could easily get carried away. After Dipper and Mabel left last summer, before Stanley and him were going to head out, he had made a major discovery while working in the lab. He had discovered an atom that was capable of recreating a direct clone of itself and in as many atoms he could count. He continued to work on the project until Stanley was practically dragging him from the house to leave to sail around the world.

While sailing towards one of their final destinations at the end of the trip, Ford finally opened up to Stanley about his worries of falling into the same pits as before. He was worried that he would become too involved, as he already felt himself doing as they were leaving for their trip. He also desperately needed some alone time from Stanley, but he didn’t mention that to him while they were on the boat.

“What if you hired someone to help you with the project?” Stan had offered a possible solution, while he had sat in the boat looking at Ford who was deep in thought over his dilemma. “I mean obviously the last time that happened, it wasn’t great either…” He trailed off after the look on Ford’s face became apparent, regretting the thought of his old college friend.

“I know the last time wasn’t great” Stanley pushed forward, “but maybe if you have someone hired to help with the smaller stuff. Things like using the calculator or something, whatever the small stuff even is to you” he said the last part under a fake cough which earned him a glare from his brother. However, the idea wasn't… terrible, Ford thought. He pondered over the possibilities of having someone helping him out, along with having the two kids upstairs to bother him. If he were to have someone who he didn't have to know that well take on most of the minor details, the equations and such, he would be able to prioritize the best parts of the project while also having time for his family. At least, that’s what he had hoped for when Stanley initially offered the idea.

“That could be a good idea…” Ford said after taking several moments to ponder the possibilities. “I would need someone who could do advanced mathematical equations, with room for equations that could possibly extend what they know…”. Stanley just looked at him deep in thought, wondering how there could be that many things to think about, the answer seemed clear to him.

Back in the lab, Ford could hear Stanley groaning loudly about some ‘unknown error message’. He continued to monitor and take note of the atoms under his advanced microscope for a while, waiting until Stanley had further news of any postings. He wondered what his new assistant would be like, if they could have the same passion for knowledge and understanding as he does.

———

A few days had passed, Ford falling into old habits quickly, holing himself up in the lab for hours upon hours. The only time he was seen over the last 48 hours was to grab more coffee from the kitchen, he caught naps in between work, falling asleep over his piles of scrap paper filled with numbers and letters. Ford had not anticipated how much mathematical reasoning was going to follow the atom cloning discovery, he was falling behind on moving forward with more discoveries on the atoms, but over hundreds of miniscule details that needed solving kept him at the desk. Stan walked down on the 49th hour of Ford’s lock down in the basement, opening the door noisily and making as much noise as possible on the way down to let him know he was on the way. Ford was scribbling away on the nth page of scrap work, crossing out failed attempts of solving equations as Stan broached the lab floor.

Stan awkwardly cleared his throat at Ford when he didn’t turn around, even though Stanley was sure to have made enough noise on the way down. Ford turned his head over his shoulder, his body seeming to not want to move from the space it had cramped into. He raised his eyebrows in a questioning manner, as if asking ‘What? Im busy’. Stan gave a huff of annoyance before starting,

“I have about 3 applications that I thought were worth looking over, most of the idiots who applied didn’t even have math degrees. All they see in the listing is free housing and they flock like birds trying to claw their way in” he said with a slight chuckle. He strided over to Ford’s desk, as Ford leaned back finally interested in what Stan was saying. He took the papers from Stanley and began to look over them. He began thumbing through the few resumes, looking over each one carefully noting that all three people had at least some qualifications in mathematics. He looked up to Stan and gave him a tight smile.

“I appreciate you getting these for me, I’ll reach out to the ones I feel are qualified.” A beat passed between them, Ford paused for a second wondering if he should just return to work at this point or if Stanley had something else since he hasn't made any move to leave.

“I think the one on the bottom will be the best fit.” Stan said with a certain look in his face that Ford couldn’t place, as he turned to leave. Ford looked at him as he walked towards the stairs with a questioning look on his face, wondering what could have led his brother to place a preference on one of these resumes even though he didn't know what applied mathematics was. As Stan trudged up the stairs Ford called to his brother,

“I'll be sure to look at that one, thank you Stanley.” Which made Stanley pause and turn to look at Ford, a distant smile on his face as he nodded and continued up the stairs. Ford turned back to his desk and pulled the resume on the bottom up to the top, the header in nice bold letters a fine print used, he noted.

Y/N YL/N

He also took note that this was the only two-page resume offered to him, with the education list taking up most of the room. Several universities/schools were listed and his eyes read over the names and degrees that followed. He read all the way to the bottom where it listed your highschool with graduation dated in 1999. He noted this person was in their early 30’s with several bachelors degrees in several sciences, two master’s degrees in statistics and biology, and of course a Ph.D in applied mathematics. The latest graduation listed was University of Oregon masters program in statistics for April, which he noted it was now early May noting it would be fresh on the mind. He moved your resume to the back of the small stack, looking over the first two he skipped over, and honestly he wished he saved yours for last. The first two were jokes compared to the advanced knowledge you listed, he set the first aside after noting that the education list was no longer than a paragraph, and the second resume didn’t take long to set aside either as his eyes raked in the many spelling errors.

He read over your resume again looking for a way to contact you to set up the interview. He noted the phone number and email in the corner of the first page, and made to move upstairs to the kitchen phone. As he stood up however, his muscles almost molded into place from sitting at the desk, stopped him from moving further. He groaned as he began to stretch himself out, thinking about how he couldnt wait to stop looking at math problems for hours on end.

Heading back upstairs he reached the phone and quickly gazed at the microwave clock, 3:49 pm. He was glad it wasn’t later than five, as he picked up the corded receiver and began to punch in the numbers. The phone rang a few times before your voice fluttered over the phone, “Hello?”. Ford cleared his throat awkwardly, “Hello! Yes, is this Y/N YL/N? Oh it is, great, this is Stanford Pines calling about a job posting for the assistant position. I was hoping to set up an interview to discuss further details of the position.”

“I was just wondering if I would hear back from this offer,” the light voice on the other end laughed a pleasant laugh a little before continuing, “I’d love to join you for an interview regarding the position, I’m free anytime, anywhere this coming week and the next.”.

Ford offered a time for tomorrow at the local diner, which he provided the address to. The voice on the phone wished Ford a great rest of his night and that they would see him tomorrow. Ford wished them the normal pleasantries he hated to conduct while making mundane phone calls such as these. He was slightly relieved to find you weren’t completely strange, at least right off the bat. When he hung the phone back on the hanger, Stan suddenly spoke, causing Ford to jump from the lack of warning.

“So did you end up going with the one I said?” Stan looked smug as Ford met his gaze, knowing damn well he scared Ford on purpose. Ford rolled his eyes after he settled after the slight scare,

“Unsurprisingly, as you could probably assume. You shouldn’t have even bothered with the other two. One only had a few community college classes under their belt.” Ford turned to make more coffee, he figured he would stretch his legs now as he was planning on working on some more equations before the meeting tomorrow. Stan gave a hearty laugh, “She’s also quite the looker, surprised me when I was pulling resumes”. Ford gave his brother a look as he asked, “Can’t you make your picture anything you want online?”. He remembers when they got the computer last time the kids were here, Dipper had shown him how he had his profile for online DD&MD. He absolutely didn’t understand it, but Dipper assured him this summer he would teach him. Which would benefit him from not having to pay Stanley anytime he needed something done the modern way (this was not often).

“Yeah but this was on a college website, everyone has their picture I think. It looks all like student ID’s… Oh don’t look at me like that! I looked at all of their profile pictures. She just happened to have the best looking picture.” Stan finished with a shrug and a laugh. Ford had looked at him like he was crazy for looking through all the people who applied profile pictures before feeling the need to ask, “You did give me recommendations on experience, not looks correct?”.

Stan shook his head, “I know you would kill me if I passed on a math nerd over an actual good looking girl” he laughed, turning “I'm going to head out gotta meet some people, don’t wait up for me.” Stan said as he was walking out the door, grabbing the keys as he slammed the door. Ford shook his head and decided to take his brother's word for it, his mind replaying what his twin mentioned, “quite the looker” as if that could have any effect on anything. Ford thought he didn't care much at all for how a person appeared as long as they could solve these problems that's all that mattered, and maybe that they were decently pleasant to work with. He couldnt help but reflect back to the phone call, your light and airy voice filling his ear with pleasant sound, at least you didnt have a horrible voice and he could probably get used to hearing that voice more often, he thought. Ford filled his cup with coffee and headed back downstairs not giving the interview tomorrow much more thought than your voice on the phone.

—————

A/N: Yay I did it!!! yeah so what if its a nothing sandwich?? Didnt i literally say that before hand.. hope you enjoyed if ya read! <3

[pedroshotwifey]

Ok, random idea for drabble:

Overprotective girldad! Frankie

He and the guys get together to size up/intimidate the guy coming by to pick up his daughter for a date. 😅

Okay I'm really kind of loving this idea 🤣

Think I had way too much fun with it!

W/C: 660

Overprotective girldad!Frankie (G)

They could be doing anything right now. Bowling, flying, fishing, hiking, shooting pool, drinking—well, you get the idea. They could be doing anything on this cool Friday night, but the former Delta Team boys are sitting around the island in Frankie’s cramped kitchen, waiting for his daughter’s date to show up. 

“Frankie,” Benny speaks up for the group. “You have got to give her some slack, dude.” 

The glare Frankie sends the younger man’s way makes the rest of the guys glad Benny said it first. Benny—being Benny—doesn’t get the hint. 

“I mean, c’mon, she’s nineteen.” He tosses another handful of peanuts into his mouth, continuing his risky  and unwanted opinion with a mouth full of food. “And a grown adult.” 

For the sake of his good friend, Frankie pretends not to hear and goes back to scoping out his front lawn through the living room window. He peers out the temporary crack he’s made in the blinds for another couple of minutes, and then suddenly jumps away. 

“Little shit’s finally here,” Frankie grumbles as he walks past the group, glancing at his watch. “Minute and a half late.” He marches to the front door. 

Knowing that’s their queue to follow, the men eye each other before sliding off the barstools and gathering around their paranoid friend. It would be comical to see Frankie so worked up over this kid if he weren’t so serious about it. He’s absolutely convinced that there is no boy out there good enough for his little girl, and there is not a breathing soul on this earth that could change his mind. 

So they huddle up in their most intimidating stance, Santi to the left of Frankie, Benny to the right, and Will behind and between Frankie and Ben. If for no other reason than to make sure Frankie doesn’t give off “Little Man Syndrome” energy all by himself, they puff their chests, stand tall, and put on stern faces. 

The poor kid doesn’t even get to knock before Frankie pulls the door open. One glance at the guys, and he looks about ready to piss his pants—which really only proves Frankie’s point. 

“M-Mr. Morales?” The kid squeaks, doing his damndest to only focus on Frankie, and holds his hand out to shake. “I’m Tyler, here to pick your daughter up for—” he stutters when Frankie raises a brow— “for our date.” 

Frankie stares for a second, and the kid—Tyler—just about breaks down. 

“I-I mean, not our date, but y-your daughter’s. O-obviously. And mine—me and your daughter, our date.” 

Santi glances at Will, who is already side-eyeing Santi. That look conveys exactly what they’re both thinking: someone should really put this guy out of his misery. Luckily, Charlotte appears at the top of the stairs at that exact moment. 

“Oh my god, Dad!” She bursts out. “Stop making Tyler feel weird!” 

And it’s like a switch is flipped in Frankie. He turns around, smile bright on his face for his daughter. None of the guys are phased—this is how these things usually go. 

“Of course I’m not, sweetheart! Tyler and I actually just finished up a great conversation.” He turns back to the boy, still cheery. “Isn’t that right, sport?” 

Tyler, who looks like he should probably drink some water, quickly nods. “Yes, absolutely,” he agrees. 

Charlotte scoffs, not totally buying it, and quickly hurries the rest of the way downstairs. Before she reaches the torture circle at the front doorway, Frankie smiles one last time at Tyler. 

“Hurt her, and see what happens,” he says, just loudly enough for the kid to hear, and in a tone that would sound joking to anybody else. 

A hug for his daughter and a (possibly too aggressive) pat on the shoulder for Tyler later, the kids are headed down the driveway, one a tad more stiff than the other. 

“Be back by nine,” Frankie calls after them. 

Will glances at the clock and sighs. It’s 8:12pm. 

[g1rld1ary]

hope your requests r open! lockwood x reader where lockwood think reader likes george (but she doesnt) and reader thinks lockwood likes lucy (he doesnt). basically just a whole bunch of misunderstandings with angst and a happy ending please <3

miscommunications - anthony lockwood x fem!reader

wc: 6316

cw: swearing, angstish, series typical injuries

i am SO sorry this took so long lovie i had the biggest writers block but i loved loved loved this request so thank u for sending it in i hope i did it justice!!!! love u xoxo

Lockwood and Co was absolutely the weirdest psychical detective agency you’d ever been a part of. Not only were the actual case methods… unusual, but you were a bunch of kids. You didn’t know anything about running a company; the logistics of managing four teenagers and trying to be responsible whilst also experiencing hormones and teen dramas, all while living in the same house with no adult supervision. But it was great, most of the time at least.

However, even teen psychical detectives weren’t immune to the trap of cliques and you often ended up spending much more time with some members than others. For example, it often ended up being Lockwood and Lucy, and you and George.

It wasn’t necessarily a conscious decision or something that happened because you didn’t like the other two members of the agency, it just tended to be the easiest decision. Lockwood and Lucy were undeniably in perfect sync on the field, and you and George worked better in the research department, so it only made sense that those pairs spent more time together.

The only problem? You were totally in love with Lockwood. And you were pretty sure he was basically fucking married to Lucy Carlyle. They were the dream team on and off the field, you were half convinced they could actually read each other's minds. Plus, they were both genuinely amazing people. Lucy was your best friend and roommate at Portland Row, and you loved her with all your heart. And Lockwood? Well, there were a million and one good things to say about Anthony Lockwood. So who could blame you if you spent more time with George? It hurt less than watching the love story unfolding in front of you, and George was good company anyhow.

You couldn’t avoid them though, nor did you really want to, so life was testing your limits as to how much Locklyle you could handle at once.

You and George had been cooped up in the library most of the day looking through archives and research for the agency’s next case, so you’d been glad to get home and have a long warm shower in the evening. Lockwood and Lucy were off on a smaller case together so you’d had the bathroom all to yourself while George was cooking; a small luxury when living with three other teenagers.

Your hair was still wet as you sat down at the dining table in the kitchen, droplets sinking into the paper of the thinking cloth. It was a lovely dinner with George, he’d made your favourite meal upon request, the most glorious dish of butter chicken you thought might’ve ever been made. Everything should have been perfect, except that it was just the two of you. Again. It seemed like you never had family dinners as a four anymore, you and George stuck eating across from each other amongst empty chairs and untouched plates.

“So, anything new?” You made conversation in decent humour, picking at the chicken you weren’t quite as pleased to be eating anymore.

“Anything new in the twenty minutes we’ve been apart all day?” George replied in his characteristic dry tone. You rolled your eyes, trying to stay playful.

“Just checking.”

You took the cleanup after George did all the cooking, switching on the radio as you stood in front of the sink and washing the dishes in peaceful quiet. It was past midnight when the door jingled and creaked open and you could hear Lockwood and Lucy’s tired chatter floating through the old house. Even their damn voices belonged together, making the perfect cadence. You calculated whether you could get away with running up the stairs and pretending to be asleep before they really made it inside, however, agents are known for their speed, and you could hear boots hitting the floor before you could move.

“You’re still up?” Lucy asked as a greeting, stretching out her arms with a sigh. You smiled, shrugging as you began pouring hot water into the mugs you’d prepared earlier, making you all tea how you liked it. Lucy took hers gratefully, adding in the sugar as she pleased, but you were still yet to see Lockwood, taking the initiative to prepare it for him.

He came in a few minutes later, smiling softly as he looked at you.

“You’re a godsend.” He took the mug gratefully, visibly relaxing as the heat penetrated his body. You just smiled, turning back to the dishes.

“Thanks for the tea, I’ll head up to the shower,” Lucy said, patting you gratefully on the arm as she passed. That left you and Lockwood in the kitchen in careful silence.

You talked about nothing for a while, Lockwood filling you in on the tabloids he’d read the night before, and you told him all about the music and news you’d been listening to on the radio.

“How was the research, how’s George?” Lockwood was beside you now, taking a few of the plates you’d finished drying. His tone sounded almost bitter, but you figured it was his exhaustion taking hold.

“It was fine, I think we’re pretty much good to go for this weekend. Oh, you should have seen it! George absolutely stacked it on the steps of the library earlier. He’s fine, of course, but I nearly pissed my pants laughing, it was so funny.” Lockwood managed an unenthused chuckle, turning away to put the cutlery away in the drawer. “How was the case?” Lockwood made a noise of affirmation, coming back next to you, your shoulders brushing lightly.

“As well as cases can go,” He said, smile back on his face. You listened to him tell the bloody details of the case, illustrating his own heroic moves with a full production of actions and impressions, drawing giggles from you as he fought around the room. “And of course, Luce was brilliant as always, saved my arse for the millionth time.”

Fuck. Of course Lockwood was singing Lucy’s praises again, right in front of you! You couldn’t catch a break. You finally got a moment alone with the boy you had a massive embarrassing crush on and he was talking about your best friend! You could feel your smile fading fast, jealousy bubbling in your chest as you imagined them out on a case together, all quick banter and soft touches while you were at home. With George.

You tried to stay obliging, giving him a small smile and finishing up the drying quickly.

“Well, I should be off to bed. Goodnight, Lockwood.”

“You’re not gonna read with me?” You could have sworn that Lockwood had disappeared and been replaced with a kicked puppy the way his eyes were making your insides twist with guilt. You often sat up in the library with Lockwood; he could never sleep and you often made up for the late nights in the mornings, starting your days hours after everyone else. You held eye contact for a moment, willing yourself to be strong.

It didn’t work, and you found yourself back in your familiar spot in front of the fire, digging into your novel as he flipped through a magazine. When your eyes began to strain in the low lamplight you closed it softly, chancing a glance over at Lockwood. He looked almost perfect in the moment, yellow light illuminating the highlights in his face, his eyes glinting as he found humour in the dramatised tabloids.

He looked up suddenly, his senses evidently alerting him to your staring. His head tilted almost imperceptibly, curiosity seeping from his features. You smiled softly, unable to give him any explanation, so you were glad when he returned it in a way that made his whole face light up. You looked away first, studying your hands intently as you heard Lockwood breathe a subtle laugh.

Another case later, you were going crazy. You’d hit an obstacle (of course) and the case had started going awry. A few relicmen interfering with the site threw you all off your game, the original case put aside in favour of your lives. You and Lucy had been together when the ambush happened, both fighting as a team to protect yourselves. Admittedly you weren’t as fluid as her and Lockwood, but you blamed that on the lack of opportunity. You were doing pretty well for yourselves, all things considered. Still, you were grateful for the two boys to come bursting in like heroes, rapiers at the ready. What you didn’t appreciate was the way Lockwood immediately leapt to Lucy’s side, falling into their familiar rhythm. That left George to help you, the both of you sharing the quickest of looks, your eye roll lost to the fight.

You’d all made it out alive but were severely battered and disheartened. You’d all sustained a few cuts and bruises, you knew you were bleeding from somewhere in your midsection, but the adrenaline hadn’t worn off yet so you pushed through.

You also weren’t particularly glad to see Lockwood looking at Lucy like she’d hung all the stars in the sky in the cab on the way back. He hadn’t spared you a glance.

“I know this wasn’t exactly what we planned,” He said, still not making eye contact with you, “But we’re all okay so I think that’s a win. Luce, good job on the defence and keeping the relicmen at bay. George, brilliant catch with the source, mate, you saved us all. And, uh, good work.” He looked over briefly, but you thought he was looking slightly above you still. He didn’t even care enough to look at you on the case! It was absolutely maddening.

Sometimes, like now, you wondered why you even liked him. He was obsessed with another girl, barely paid you attention and had you begging for crumbs of affection. And yet, sometimes you were sure he liked you back. The soft smiles, the time together in the dead of night, the moments he showed you such gentle care. Lockwood was a puzzle you just couldn’t solve, but you were really, really trying.

You weren’t in the best mood when you all arrived home. Your case had been compromised, you were injured, and Lockwood was basically ignoring you. The night was not looking good. And, on top of all that, George called the first shower so it was unlikely there’d be any hot water left by the time you got in. Silently, you peeled off your overcoat, hanging it on your designated hook before discarding your rapier in the umbrella bin. The cut on your side was beginning to sting, the adrenaline having worn off in the cab, but you powered through, figuring you’d take care of it when you had privacy in the bathroom. Instead, you followed Lucy into the kitchen, chatting away as she made some toast.

She’d already left when you got up from the dining table, motivating yourself to make some tea and something to eat. Your body was starting to ache though, and you really didn’t want to be moving much longer. It was all mostly fine, though uncomfortable, until you were reaching up for the sugar for the tea. It was a little out of your reach up on one of the higher cupboards which usually wasn’t so much of an issue — you were a high jumper — but raising your arm above your head was making it feel like your cut was splitting open, pulling a strangled hiss from you.

“What is that?” Lockwood’s voice made you jump, the harshness unfamiliar. You turned slowly, folding your arms across your stomach in vain.

“It’s nothing, I was gonna look after it in a bit.” It was the first time you’d made proper eye contact with Lockwood all night, and he looked pissed.

“Bullshit,” He argued, gaining proximity, “Sit down.” You weren’t typically in the habit of being bossed around by a man, but you could tell Lockwood was serious so took a seat. He stomped around the kitchen rather dramatically, tossing you an ice pack from the freezer. You placed it tentatively over the cut, groaning and throwing your head back when it stung. Your breathing was shallow, erratic as you waited for the icepack to do its job and start numbing the pain.

When you unscrewed your eyes Lockwood was standing at the kitchen bench, aggressively buttering your toast. You watched him put together the meal you’d started, all with deep furrowed eyebrows, ending with him placing it in front of you, looking at you expectantly. You smiled at him despite the pain in your side, pulling the mug of tea closer. He’d made it just as you liked it, too much sugar and a bit of honey. You sipped it pathetically, tension bubbling between you and the boy in front of you.

“What’s new?” You asked in what you hoped was a lighthearted tone. Lockwood wasn’t impressed.

“Eat,” He urged, “You’ll already be weak from blood loss, don’t let yourself get dizzy from hunger too.” You took an exaggerated bite of the toast to appease him, melting into a moan when the food hit your mouth. Somehow, it tasted better than all the millions of times you’d made your own. Lockwood had found the perfect balance of butter and bread, soft in the middle but the crusts were still crunchy and satisfying. The corner of his mouth flicked into the smallest smile seeing you enjoy the food he’d made you, but it was clear he still wasn’t happy with you.

You continued to eat as he got up from his seat, disappearing out into the hallway for a moment. He returned with the first aid kit and you groaned. This was going to suck. Lockwood, ever the gentleman, asked for your permission to start helping you, lifting your already cherry red case shirt up to tuck under your bra, out of his way as he examined the cut. It wasn’t too deep, you didn’t think you’d need stitches or anything, but it was long, wrapping halfway across your stomach.

“This is going to hurt,” He said simply, but you could have sworn there was some gentleness there. Lightly, Lockwood began to clean your wound. Initially, it wasn’t so bad as he cleaned what had already spread and dried away from the cut which lulled you into a false sense of security. You cried out as he touched the wound itself for the first time, grabbing onto Lockwood’s shoulder for stability, though you were already seated.

“It’s okay, I’ll be quick. Promise,” He hushed you, offering his hand for you to grab instead. You clutched onto it for dear life, squeezing until both your fingers were turning white. Lockwood never uttered a complaint, working away at cleaning and treating the wound one-handed until it was done, stopping every so often for breaks when he thought you needed them.

When he was done he looked up at you from his position on his knees and it suddenly felt like the world around you was quiet. Lockwood’s eyes were so pretty. You’d always thought so, but it was particularly relevant when he was only inches away from you, sparkling in the amber light of the kitchen. Neither of you spoke, staring into each other’s eyes. You weren’t sure what to do, you didn’t want to end this moment between you but you didn’t know how to make it last. Well, you did, but that was highly inappropriate given Lockwood was in love with another girl.

“Thanks,” You settled on awkwardly, cringing as Lockwood seemed to realise where he was and what was happening.

“Any time,” He jumped up, backing up towards the sink and busying himself with pouring his own cup of tea.

You left the kitchen shortly after, unwilling to sit in the awkwardness any longer. The first step was to get out of the soiled clothes and clean yourself up a bit, the second was to flop back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling of the attic.

“I’m going to die alone,” You said to the roof, catching the attention of your roommate.

“Don’t be stupid,” Lucy said simply, “You’re hot, anyone would be lucky to have you.” That pulled a smile from you, tilting your head back to look over at Lucy on her bed.

“Thanks, Luce. You know what I mean though.” Lucy rolled her eyes with a soft smile.

“If Lockwood can’t see all your brilliant, attractive qualities then he’s a prat.”

“I’m sure he sees many of my great qualities — he hired me. The issue is that he’s blinded by your brilliance.” It was a conversation you’d had countless times before; you decreeing Lockwood’s love for Lucy and Lucy being disgusted by it.

“You know that I have zero interest in Lockwood. Like, zero. Honestly, I’d sooner get with you than him.”

“Alright, alright, I get it. I have terrible taste in men,” You laughed, mostly cheered up.

Lucy flicked off the lamp, putting you to sleep with a story from before you’d joined the agency.

Lockwood had a similar conversation with George a few weeks later. It was after another case, all had gone well and the four of you were strewn about the house, tending to various chores that needed to get done. Lucy was mopping the floors, you were organising and putting away the mountain of books that had been used over the case, and Lockwood and George were both in the basement, tidying the store room and going over paperwork.

Lockwood looked at George, hunched over the form he was filling in, and wondered how to broach the subject. He thought you might’ve been avoiding him lately, which wasn’t exactly wrong, and thought it might be because you were trying to make your feelings for George known. In fact, it had nothing to do with George and everything to do with Lockwood. You figured if Lockwood hadn’t noticed by now that you liked him he never would, so you’d started the mountainous task of getting over him. It was unsurprisingly extremely difficult, given you lived and worked with the man. Still, you were doing the best you could.

“So, gone on any, uh, dates recently?” The sentence was awkward and Lockwood cringed. It was so unlike him and George to talk about anything emotional, especially romance.

“What are you on about?” George didn’t even bother looking up, figuring it was just one of Lockwood’s moments that he’d move on from soon enough.

“It’s just, you’ve never really dated anyone, at least while living here, so I was just asking. Um, maybe there’s someone in the house you’d like to take out?” George looked up, turning his wheelie chair to face Lockwood, resigning himself to the conversation he knew would follow.

“Yes, Lockwood. Can’t you hear Lucy and I having loud, passionate sex every night?” Both boys rolled their eyes.

“That’s not what I meant,” Lockwood grumbled.

“Then say what you mean. You’re trying to figure out if I like her because you do and you’re too scared to say anything about it.” Lockwood was silenced, caught out with his true intentions. “Let’s face it, you’re about as subtle as a car horn; you moon over her. She’s the only one who hasn’t noticed.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Lockwood mumbled, “She likes you.” George burst out into uncharacteristic laughter, wheezing and gripping his stomach.

“God, you’re daft!” He laughed, “The two of you are perfect for each other, you’re hopeless.”

Lockwood made an excuse to leave, something about folding his laundry. George watched him go, rolling his eyes before turning back to his paperwork. If the two of you weren’t going to get his exceedingly obvious hints, you were going to have to work it out between yourselves.

Your angst was bleeding into the company. You were trying (and failing) to get over Lockwood which was not only making you generally miserable, but it was impeding your ability to be a good agent.

You were on a relatively easy case, and for some reason you’d been paired with Lockwood, a rarity. Lucy and George were on the second floor of the house scoping out where the source may be whilst you and Lockwood were on the ground floor, preparing your defences and putting on the tea kettle. It was extremely awkward. Lockwood was trying to make conversation and you were trying to keep it as short as possible. If you fell into conversation you’d be reminded of Lockwood’s many wonderful qualities, and it would just get harder to get over him.

“Did you end up finishing that book?” He asked as you pulled the chains out of their duffel bags. You perked up for a moment before forcing yourself to relax. You had finished the novel and absolutely loved it, you wanted nothing more than to talk about it. Still, you controlled yourself, shrugging off the question with a “Yeah, it was pretty good.” Lockwood hesitated, caught off guard by your answer. Usually you were keen to discuss what you’d been reading, especially if you liked it.

“Are you alright?” He asked, softness in his voice and eyes. Your heart clenched for a moment, you didn’t want to worry him.

“I’m fine, Lockwood, promise.” You busied yourself with arranging the salt bombs but you could still feel his eyes on you.

The case progressed, all four of you ending up on the second level of the house to confront the visitor, each splitting up to cover the different rooms. You were in the master bedroom when the en suite bathroom caught your eye. You could have sworn you saw movement near the shower and crept towards it, trying to stay focused and address the urgency on hand.

You were immediately distracted by the similarities between the en suite and the bathroom in Portland Row. Set out almost identically, it was almost scary how similar they were; George’s soap (fancy and way more expensive than the one the rest of you bought) was on the ledge of the shower, and Lucy’s blue hairbrush sat by the basin.

It wasn’t necessarily surprising that either of those items were there, they were both bought for cheap at a grocery store so ought to have been common, but it surprised you nonetheless. You’d been so distracted by the weird similarities that you didn’t notice the figure floating through the shower curtain until its translucent hand was beside your face. You panicked, the only thing you shouldn’t have been doing, and flailed about in the tiny room, rapier knocking bottles off shelves and creating a general racket that was not pleasing the ghost.

You stumbled on the tiles trying to get your footing and get the fuck out but slid on a slippery substance — probably conditioner from the bottle you’d sent flying to the ground. It was a comedy of errors you would have quoted as impossible in an old slapstick comedy, but there you were, and the consequences were infinitely more dire than those faced by Charlie Chaplin.

The proceeding moments vanished from your memory; a violent fall, a sickening crack and an overwhelming darkness. Three more moments of light where you caught visions of the ghost, Lockwood, and aggressive flashing lights.

You woke up in hospital. You wished it was the hazy, unsure innocence that you saw in movies, but the incessant beeping and sanitised smell had you groaning as you gained consciousness. Lockwood was slumped over in the chair next to your bed, breathing uncharacteristically calm as he slept.

You watched him sleep in the least creepy way you could manage, admiring his features when they weren’t scrunched up in worry or stress. He must’ve felt you watching him as his eyes fluttered open, doe eyes overflowing with relief as he saw you awake.

“You’re up, thank god,” He said, pulling his chair up even closer to you.

“Why am I here?” You asked, examining the various wires and machines you were plugged into.

“What aren’t you here for?” Lockwood joked and you tried for a smile. He straightened himself out and continued, “Linear skull fracture, concussion, scary-looking cut on your forehead. We think you slipped and bashed your head on the countertop.” You grimaced, the pain of the fall manifesting in your head.

“That would be right,” You agreed sheepishly, shifting uncomfortably in your hospital gown, “And the hand?” Your left hand was bandaged up so thick it looked more like an oven mitt than a hand.

“Ghost touch.” Lockwood didn’t sound so happy and casual now.

“Oh.”

“What happened? It’s not like you to put yourself in danger like that; it was stupid and reckless.” You didn’t understand why Lockwood was getting so angry. Clearly, you didn’t intend to get injured, it was an unfortunate accident that you would have avoided if you could.

“As opposed to you, who never gets injured and always sticks to the plan?” You couldn’t help the venom seeping into your voice but you detested being criticised by Lockwood when he was just as bad, usually worse.

“This isn’t about me,” He said through gritted teeth, clearly trying to keep his cool while you were vulnerable. You were angry though and didn’t want to back down.

“Of course this is about you, Lockwood! You wouldn’t blink an eye if it was you who’d ended up here, or George or Lucy. It was an honest mistake, why are you being such a dick about it?” You were raising your voice but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, the tension that had been bubbling for weeks coming to the surface.

“Because you could have died —”

“So could any of us, that’s the job! I still see you jumping head-first into danger.”

Lockwood groaned your name, hands in his hair and pulling in frustration. “You’re misunderstanding me, I just don’t want to watch you get hurt—”

“Then close your fucking eyes, Lockwood. I fell and I got injured. It happens and I resent having you treat me differently than the others. Fuck this, I want Lucy here instead, or George.”

“Of course you want George here, why wouldn’t you?”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” If you could stand you would be shoving past him and out the door, but you were at a significant disadvantage being hooked up to so many machines, stuck in your place.

“You know what I mean, you and George are such a close pair, aren’t you? Always working together and laughing about your own inside jokes,” He spat and the burning anger only got hotter.

“Are you fucking crazy right now? Or are you forgetting that you’re the head of this company and therefore you’re the one pairing us together in every case? Or are you so fucking busy making heart eyes at Lucy that you don’t even notice that we’re actually getting work done? Forgive us for trying to make ten hours of research bearable!”

“Heart eyes at Luce? You’re the crazy one, she and I are just friends, I swear. But you and George will make a great couple, I’m sure.”

“George and I couldn’t be less interested in each other! And if you could see past your own nose for once maybe you’d see why!” You all but yelled, surely alerting the whole floor of your argument, “Leave me alone, Lockwood, I don’t want you here anymore.”

Lockwood looked as if he was going to dispute that statement as well but a nurse came to your rescue, clearly hearing the disagreement from outside. She ushered him out, claiming it wasn’t good for your vitals to be getting angry and that you could continue the fight when you were discharged in a few day's time.

Alone in the sterile hospital room, you felt yourself beginning to cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks and landing on your embarrassing patterned hospital gown. In a perfect world, that conversation would have gone completely differently. In a perfect world, Lockwood’s eyes would have softened when he saw you were awake. He would have confessed how worried he was about you and how much he truly cared for you. He would have brushed his lips across your hand that he was holding, then pressed them again against your own as he admitted how he’d always been in love with you. You didn’t know that it was your own defensive nature that had stopped that from happening.

But it wasn’t a perfect world and you were alone, overwhelmed by the various noises and movements going on around you. You did eventually fall back asleep, a fitful, unsatisfying nap that had you groaning and exhausted when you woke up. You weren’t alone though, which did make you feel better. George and Lucy were sitting next to your bed, deep in a whispered conversation.

“Hey,” You said, shimmying up to a sitting position. They both stopped talking immediately, turning to face you with small smiles on both their faces.

“How are you feeling?” Lucy asked, pulling her chair up to be right next to your bed.

“I’m alright now, just tired and worn down.”

“You scared us,” George added, characteristically stiff but clearly trying to be sensitive.

“I’m sorry,” You admitted, “I really didn’t mean to. And believe me, Lockwood’s already yelled at me enough for it, please just forgive me.” They looked at each other, communicating non-verbally.

“We heard,” George said, “He basically punched a hole in the wall trying to recount it.” He let out a clipped laugh before Lucy shoved him, signature glare working its magic.

“You should really apologise, he’s cut up about it.” Your mouth dropped open as you stared at Lucy. How was this your fault?

“I’m not apologising, he was the one who got angry. Right, George?” You pleaded with him, praying he wouldn’t let you down now.

“I… I don’t think it has to be right now, but you two should get over it after you’ve cooled down a bit.” Ok, it wasn’t exactly what you’d hoped he’d say, but it was better than nothing. And better than the moral lesson you knew Lucy would try and impose — what a hypocrite.

“But he was so mean!” You whined, “I seriously just had an unfortunate fall, I didn’t die.”

“But you could have,” George quipped and you rolled your eyes.

“You know it’s because he really cares about you, right? He’d never forgive himself if something happened to you and he couldn’t save you.” You couldn’t tell if Lucy’s statement was making you feel better or worse.

“Yeah, really felt like it when he was yelling at me,” You grumbled, fidgeting with the hem of the scratchy blanket.

“Well, you know Lockwood is emotionally constipated,” George added and you couldn’t help but burst into laughter — what a statement to come from George.

“OK,” You agreed finally, “I’ll apologise when we get home. As long as he stops being a massive prick.”

You were discharged a few days later, healing nicely. It would have been sooner, but the head injury worried your nurses and kept you there, not trusting you would stay on bed rest. Lucy came to your rescue, posing as a very concerned caretaker who would ensure your safety.

In fact, it wasn’t Lucy who was enforcing your bedrest. It was George who was cooking every meal and Lockwood doing all the other motherly fussing. You hadn’t discussed your fight yet, both too exhausted and too awkward to broach the subject. You hoped your six-to-eight-week recovery time wouldn’t consist of the same heavy tiredness, but you figured it would improve once the concussion had faded.

The rest of the company had started doing two-man cases so that someone was always home to supervise you. It was a little stifling but you appreciated the effort. It also shook up the status quo of the company, Lockwood and Lucy’s perfect partnership being disrupted by no one wanting to be left at home each time, which was both a blessing and a curse.

In your first few days of being back home at Portland Row, Lockwood was home with you, helping wash your hair. You’d whined so much about how gross it felt, still blood-stained where you cracked your skull open that Lockwood gave up and told you he’d wash it for you. Of course, you’d protested, saying it went way beyond what you could expect of a friend or coworker, but Lockwood would not take no for an answer, justifying that it would be more dangerous to let you do it yourself since you could mess with the stitches since you couldn’t see the back of your own head.

You sat awkwardly in the bath, dressed in an old t-shirt and bikini bottoms to preserve what dignity you could. Lockwood stood outside the bath behind you, preparing the bottles of shampoo and conditioner to his side. The anticipation was destroying you, becoming fidgety and uncomfortable even in the perfectly warm water. The second Lockwood’s slender fingers threaded through your greasy hair you felt your body soften, relaxing into the feeling with no opposition. The feeling was heavenly, the careful but thorough massaging of your scalp could have sent you to sleep in three seconds if you weren’t simultaneously on edge at the proximity.

You sat in peaceful silence for a few minutes, your head lolling back subconsciously against Lockwood’s forearms, drawing a small chuckle from him.

“I’m sorry for arguing with you the other day,” You said out of the blue, your voice cutting through the radio that was sitting next to the basin.

“It’s no worries, just forget about it,” Lockwood replied instantly, continuing his labours.

“No, I want to take this seriously. I said some terrible things I didn’t mean and I want you to know that I’m sorry for it. And, as I understand it you think I have some big crush on George which I would just like to disprove. I don’t. Like him like that, I mean.” Lockwood paused for a moment, hands going still in your hair.

“Oh,” He said after some time, “Well thank you for the apology but it is completely unnecessary. I started the argument and I was way out of line, I didn’t mean a word of it. What I meant to convey was that I was worried about you getting hurt because I… care about you. A lot.” You knew that was hard for Lockwood to say, vulnerability never coming easy to him. You turned to face him in the tub, knees pulled up to your chest as your just-rinsed hair dripped down onto your t-shirt.

“I care about you a lot too, Lockwood,” You smiled sweetly, glad you were finally getting over the weird tension that had been between you. Lockwood didn’t look as satisfied.

“No, it’s, fuck. I care about you in a different way than the others. I really like you, like, romantically.”

“Shut up,” You said quickly, not wanting to wake up from a sick dream. There was no way that Anthony Lockwood, after all these years, was telling you that he liked you. Lockwood looked lost for words. Obviously it wasn’t the impassioned reciprocation he hoped for, but it also wasn’t exactly a rejection. What was he supposed to do?

“I, uh, understand if you don’t—”

“Shut up,” You affirmed again. “I have been madly, foolishly in love with you since I started here, and you’re telling me this now? After we’ve screamed at each other and been moping around?” After a moment of him processing your statement, he began to laugh, mouth breaking into one of his light-up-the-room smiles.

“I guess so.” You joined in his laughter, admiring the way his eyes crinkled and his nose scrunched as he did it.

“So what now?” You asked once your giggles had died down, leaving you two looking at each other across the edge of the bath.

“Well,” Lockwood inched closer, “We could try this?” He leant in for a soft kiss, pressing his mouth against yours lightly. You subconsciously followed his mouth as he pulled away, unwilling to open your eyes just yet.

“Mmh, maybe we could try that one again?” Lockwood laughed at your daze and happily obliged, swooping back in for a longer, deeper kiss that set your nerves on fire.

And if Lucy and George returned from their case to find the two of you still in the bath fully clothed, that was none of your business — and neither was the ten pounds that George reluctantly handed Lucy.

[arsonisticscholar]

Ok have we never thought about the fact that since lbh exists and is canotically able to have kids with both demons and humans, that demons and humans are the same species?

Ok hi, someone who is unironically interested in reproductive biology in the scientific way not as an innuendo, am going to explain how with the information available to me, I believe that modern day scientists would classify demons as the same species as humans

We all know that different species emerge through evolution, and that occurs through genetic isolation and natural selection and all that jazz, NOT through breeding between species

Now, how does a successful breeding work? There are a few steps that have to be taken in order to create life through sexual reproduction

First, obviously, sex. The actual act has to be possible for the species. A worm can’t reproduce with a cow simply because it’s sperm wouldn’t be able to even reach any zones where it could have an effect and they reproduce so differently that it doesn’t matter

Now say a cat and a similarly sized dog try to reproduce. Ok, the sperm might make it into the hole, but does it survive to make it to the egg? Not likely. Each species has specific and delicate environments to house specific and delicate sperm and if even one little chemical is too much or too little, all of the sperm may die before making it to any eggs

Now we get to the part we learn about in highschool biology where mitosis makes my toes and meiosis makes me or whatever saying y’all learned to memorize that but in case you forgot, the whole evolutionary point of sexual reproduction was genetic variety, so being able to swap chromosomes during meiosis is essential to actually making the baby. Different species of animals have different traits, so they have different numbers of chromosomes. So even if a baby is made, it would not necessarily have all of the traits it needs to survive to adulthood.

There are cases like mules where the act of sex is successful, the reproductive biome is just close enough that sperm can successfully fertilize, and the number of chromosomes is just one off from the necessary number to the point where these animals can successfully and relatively healthily survive to adulthood.

The thing is, since the parent species are not the same, they don’t have the same chromosomes. Meaning the mule cannot reproduce with either of its respective species due to not having sufficient chromosomes. Therefore it is not a separate species and is considered a hybrid.

With Luo Binghe, it is stated that in pidw he is able to reproduce with both demons and humans successfully. This means that a) sex works (but we know that already) b) sperm can survive both species bodies and c) he has the correct number and type of chromosomes for both humans and demons

The only thing this means is that humans and demons have the same genetic makeup

It could be similar to how dog breeds work where they have vastly different features but are still able to interbreed with each other and are considered the same species

One might say oh but what about the southern demons most of them are basically animals- DID YOU FORGET ABOUT ZZL!?!?

He is half snake demon half heavenly demon and although he doesn’t have any kids, it is never once implied that he is sterile and that the complications between his parents was more of a cultural difference than a worry about intermingling species

Which also implies that humans can reproduce with the more animalistic demons as well

I hesitate to compare demons vs humans with human ethnicities on earth since it goes a little further than skin tone and hair texture but I think the dog breeds is a good comparison

Tldr demons and humans can have kids that are fertile therefore lbh is a dog breed mix

[devintrinidad]

HOW HAS YOUR JOB BEEN GOING SO FAR DEVIN? I KNOW YOU SAID YOU START TRAINING ON THE ....12TH?

YES OH MY GOSH

CHLOE

CHLOE

CHLOE

IT'S BEEN

IT'S BEEN REALLY WEIRD AND FUN AND SO TIRING

Okay, here's the thing, the first day was really great! I got to meet some members of the team I'm instructed to work with! I got really sleepy after my eight hours (I'm currently training myself to not rely on naptime in the afternoons anymore lol). But yeah, I got to see and interact with some of the kids!

Currently, I'm in a training center now (good for two weeks) and then I'm back in my center to shadow my seniors and actually start working with my kids.

Today was my fourth day at the training center and let me tell you, it's like being in school. It's all notes on powerpoints, group roleplay, quizzes, oh gosh! I know it's all in preparation for the certification exam that I'm supposed to take as soon as I finish a competency assessment at my center, but it can be so mentally taxing!

I'm glad that I have a psych background since it's been helping me out, but I looked ahead into future modules and we'll be delving into territory I'm not so familiar with. Everyone there goes to different centers (I'm the only one of my kind lol), but they're all so nice and friendly!)

Side note: You're talking to the King of Kahoot :D

Won 3 kahoots over the past few days!

Anywhoozles, I'm getting my first paycheck on the first (yes, the training is paid for heheh) and I can't wait to celebrate! :D

Thank you so much for asking! I'm glad that you remembered!

[backpackingspace]

Athena with odysseus: surprise attacking odysseus and bodily slamming him to palace walls (for awareness training). Randomly kidnapping him from the palace to drop him in the woods (or the ocean or on two memorable occasions on a completely different island) (survival training), using her full strength in sparing matches (odysseus has many broken bones) dragging him up by his wrist so they're face to face. Not being careful with how often she uses quick thought or any of her other powers (what? He seems fine. She's sure odysseus has always been a freak it's definitely not brain damage it's/fine/hes /fine)

Athena with telemachus, after she accidentally knocked him out once: right right odysseus and penelope taught me how to do this when they had me babysit you. Gotta be gentle so so gentle. Gotta support the head gotta craddle humans not yank them up by the wrist (she knew odysseus was a freak why didn't he say anything??) Can't just funnel her full power into the kid gotta be so gentle.

[puppyeared]

adhd comix

[hjemne]

Babygirl I have 38 thousand words of incomplete trigun fic spread across 8 wips and have no idea how to even start dealing with it

[red-flagging]

offering "last of the late breakers" as a title to anyone writing an f1 surfing au in the near future, free of charge to a good home

[deus-ex-mona]

“i’m all alone, but i’m as happy as can be!”