#i went to the antique shop near me

[eddieintheocean]

very beautiful. very powerful (but from 1959)

[mistydeyes]

opposite occupations

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summary: all the 141 boys have different plans while on leave, each having their own idea of how to spend the time. but when they run into a lovely civilian, they realize that all the long hours, deployments, and trainings worth it.

pairing: 141 x civvie!fem!Reader

warnings: swearing, all fluff :)

a/n: I love me a good little meet cute

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price - florist

Everyone knew that the minute Price went home, he would be making the trek to his favorite cigar shop. It had been one he frequented for years, the familiar sign welcoming him home. Most shops on the street stayed the same. He liked the constancy, the familiarity.

As he rounded the street corner, he noticed a new shop had filled the unoccupied next door. The pale pink awning and rose-tinted glass were a new sight to see. "Sentiments of Carnations" he read as he walked past. He could see through the window that the shop had not yet been opened, noting the smell of fresh paint and empty displays. He wondered what grandma had put their retirement money into this florist shop.

He continued, opening the cigar shops store and smelling the musk of smoke and tobacco. "Ah John, I have your regulars set aside," the old shop owner said with a smile. "Back again for long?" he asked upon his return with a dark oak box. "Just waiting for another phone call from his majesty," he joked and slid over the usual bank notes. "I'll be seeing you," Price said as he opened the door and exited with the familiar chime of the bell.

As he embraced the warmth of the summer England weather, he pulled out one of his fresh purchases, excellently wrapped and balanced. He flipped open his lighter from his pocket and sat down to have his first smoke at home. He closed his eyes and savored the notes of espresso and hickory. As he sat in his small nirvana, he heard the florist's doors open.

He turned as he saw you, a flower behind your ear and a pink apron that perfectly matched the outside of the shop. You were not the grandma he had expected and instead were beautiful, the sun catching your lovely features. You had placed an antique table outside, along with a bucket of a colorful array of flowers adorned with a handwritten tag. You hung a small sign on the table that read, "Take one for a friend, family member, or loved one." You smiled at yourself, proud of the little display. You turned your head and noticed the mature man enjoying his smoke only a meter away from you. You picked out a scarlet carnation and walked over to the man, handing it to him.

"Here, you go," you said as his calloused fingers held the flower delicately. "A flower to brighten someone's day," you said with a smile. "Thank you, although I am not a man for flowers," he replied and extinguished his cigar. "Well, flowers can be for a variety of reasons, a friendly gesture, a gift for someone you fancy, or even something to brighten up your flat."

You ended with a sweet smile and he could feel himself melt on the spot. Something about the floral aroma emanating from the flower behind your ear along with your soft voice and pleasantries added to his current state of nirvana. You were so radiant in this light and he appreciated the kind gesture, especially upon his return home.

"No one to give a romantic gesture to, but thank you," he replied. "Well if that ever changes, my shop opens later this week! The shop's number is on the tag" you said before giving him a small wave and wink. He could hear the shop's door close as you began to set up your display and paint a mural on one of the walls. As he twisted the carnation in his hand, he knew he would be adding your shop to his routine becoming your most frequent customer.

soap - tattoo artist

Soap looked at his phone, making sure he was in the right place. His favorite tattoo shop near his Scottish home had closed and he was taking a recommendation from Ghost.

"She's got an attitude but her work is amazing," Ghost had said before Soap's deployment. He couldn't deny the craftsmanship of her work on Ghost's arm. He marveled at the attention to detail as Ghost proudly shoved off his ornate sleeve.

Soap had an appointment for today, previously approving of the artist's rendition of his vision. A black-and-white thistle, a charm his mother had said. It was commonly known to keep its owner away from danger and bad acquaintances. Something Soap needed on the battlefield.

He pushed the maroon door open, admiring the many gold frames with what he assumed were some of the artists' work. He let out a light chuckle as he noticed a framed sketch of Ghost's sleeve. He was just about to snap a picture when a voice called out, "Hey Mohawk, this isn't a museum."

He turned around to see a woman, a gorgeous one at that. You were wearing a tank top that showed off a collage of various tattoos in different styles. You had been taking a break and relaxed, sitting behind a desk, feet propped up.

"Actually, lass, I'm here with an appointment," he said, walking over to you. "Name's John MacTavish." he finished with a cheeky smile.

"Ah MacTavish, one of Riley's military boys I'm guessing. How's that masterpiece of mine doing?" you joked, Soap didn't know what to say. Were you and Ghost a thing?

You laughed at his pause, "My tattoo, Mohawk. There's no way I'd be shagging his Halloween-looking-arse." Soap appreciated the heads up about your attitude and knew this was gonna be a fun session.

"Looks gorgeous, Sweetheart. Just like yourself," he poked back and you let out a loud laugh, almost doubling over. "Don't flatter yourself, you can go make yourself comfortable in my station over there. Looks like you're only getting a bicep tat, so I better not see your shirtless arse back there."

Soap made his way to where you motioned, sitting down in the black velvet chair. You came in a few minutes later with your sketch and supplies. You closed the scarlet curtains behind you before walking over to prep his arm.

As you sat in relative silence, Soap asked, "So what do the tattoos mean, Lass?" You finished your prep work and were working on the correct tattoo placement. "Travels from around the world. I took it upon myself to get a tattoo in every new country."

With that, you offered him a mirror so he could approve of the sketch and placement. The tattoo rested on his right bicep and he made sure to look at it at every angle and made sure to flex for your enjoyment.

"Alright, muscle man, this should only take a few hours as long as you don't pass out on me," you said and began to tattoo your next masterpiece. During the next two hours, you made conversation about the tattoos meaning, his life in Scotland, and you even shared more intimate details about your travels.

The hours flew by like minutes to Soap as you let him know you were finished. He admired the detailed flower and you handed him some care instructions with some cream. "And your buddy paid for you ahead of time, so you're all set, Mohawk" you replied and Soap got off of the chair.

"See you around, my world-class woman," he joked as he exited the door. You slightly cringed, wondering if writing your number on the tube of aftercare cream was a good idea or not.

gaz - primary school teacher

Gaz looked at himself in his flat's mirror. He brushed a hand over his freshly cut hair and evened out his dress shirt. "Just a favor for a friend," he said to himself as he walked to catch the next tram. Two days ago, an old colleague during his days working with the metro police force had reached out to him. They called in a favor, "Kyle c'mon it's just a couple of primary students, all you need to do is give a little talk about stranger danger." Knowing he had nothing else better to do, Gaz agreed.

As he signaled the tram to stop, Gaz looked at the brown brick building reminding him of his younger days. Gaz walked in, checking in with the receptionist who directed him to the classroom where he'd be giving his talk. He was early, the school had not yet opened but he was asked to have the presentation at the beginning of class before the children's lessons. He admired the walls filled with the artwork of the students, silly attempts at drawing their families. He finally reached your classroom, noting the smiling sunflower on your opened door. He knocked softly and he saw you lift your head to greet him. If he had known you would be so beautiful, he would have not needed his friend's encouragement.

"Ah you must be Sgt. Garrick," you said, beginning to get up from your desk to greet him. You smoothed out your skirt and placed your glasses down. "It's just Kyle," he said and returned your friendly smile and warm handshake.

"Well Kyle, the children should be arriving in a few minutes. I'll get them settled and introduce you for your small talk today," you said with a grateful nod. You motioned for him to sit at your desk as you stood at your door to greet your excited second-year students. Gaz played on his phone and smiled as he heard you return the children's happy good mornings with a similar high-energy one. The students began to file in, placing their bags in their cubbies, and sitting with their friends. You heard small whispers from the children, wondering what you were doing at their teacher's desk. He let out a chuckle when he heard one boy whisper, "Is that Miss Y/N's husband? He's sitting in her chair."

Finally, with all the children in their seats, you walked to the front of the classroom and greeted your students warmly. "Good morning everyone, today we have a very special guest with us. This is our friend, Kyle, and he's here today to tell you all a little something before we start our lessons."

Kyle knew this was his cue, he rose from your desk and swapped places with you at the front of the room. "Hi everyone, today I'm going to teach you smart kids about something called 'Stranger Danger'." The children oohed in response as Kyle waved his hands in a fake menacing manner. You smiled as he was a natural. The children were attentive, writing down the information as he spoke and working together with their classmates to fill out the worksheet answers. Kyle ended his talk and asked if anyone had any questions. One child raised her hand and Kyle called on her. "Is Miss Y/N a stranger? I'm confused."

"I'm your teacher, Amelia. Teachers that you know aren't strangers," you responded and Kyle nodded in agreement. Another kid raised their hand and asked, "But you aren't Kyle's teacher, so you're a stranger to him."

Before either one of you could respond, his friend boasted, "It's because they're married, your Mum and Dad aren't strangers to each other." Both you and Kyle shared a look and he saw the soft blush rise to your face. "Ah we're just friends," he said and saved you the embarrassment.

Little did Kyle know, his email would chime that night with a thankful message from you along with your number at the bottom asking him to breakfast that weekend.

ghost - veterinarian

Unlike most people, Ghost loved the quiet ambiance of London's rainfall. The streets were empty and peaceful as people were cozying up in their homes with a blanket. Enjoying the evening air and cold, he walked with an umbrella in one hand and a warm cup in the other. His boots resounded on the cobblestone street as he sipped his Earl Grey tea. His chest was warm from the bold citrus and bergamot liquid. This was, in his opinion, an ideal leave well spent.

The rhythmic rain fell and his walking was interrupted by a soft mewing. Simon hurried down the street to find the source of the noise. In front of a grocer's, he noticed a small cardboard box being drenched by the unrelenting rain. He placed his cup down and gently lifted the box. Underneath was a small grey cat, cuddled into a ball to experience some semblance of warmth. Simon placed his umbrella to shield the box and lifted the tiny meowing animal into his hands.

As he cradled the cat to his chest, he heard a click of heeled boots behind him. He turned his now-drenched head to notice you walking up with a bright orange umbrella adorned with cat paws. "Excuse me, Sir, but is he yours?" you asked gesturing to the ball of grey that laid meowing in his arms. "Uh he's not, I found this little fella underneath this box here."

"Ah a Good Samaritan, I see. Well, I own the veterinarian shop down the way, I can take him off your hands if you'd like and make sure this little lad gets the care he needs," you said and offered a hand to hold the kitten. You noticed his slight hesitation and said, "If you'd like, I'll give you my card so you can take the little one home when he's all better."

"That would be nice," he smiled underneath his black face mask. Simon loved animals, never being permitted to have one as a child. As you held the kitten in your arm, you handed him your umbrella. He initially tried to refuse but you insisted saying, "You're soaked, I'll be alright." You ended with a small giggle which made Ghost warmer than his now cold cup of tea.

"The least I can do is walk you back to your shop," he replied a little too quickly. He instantly realized the surprising force he had said that with and followed up with, "You know, just so you and Earl Grey can make it there in this weather.

"Earl Grey, I like that. That's my favorite order, especially on days like this." Simon moved slightly behind you, holding the umbrella to shield the three of you on your walk. The air was filled with the familiar scent of rain and the notes of your floral perfume. "I'm Dr. L/N by the way, but most people just call me, Y/N," you said as you continued on your way. "I'm Simon, a pleasure to meet you doc."

Three weeks later Simon's house was filled with all the necessities for a new cat father. As he grabbed his coat, he pulled out a water-stained business card with the vet's office address and your number written on the back. He smiled to himself as he traced his fingers over the small handwriting saying, "To Earl Grey's owner, fancy a cup of tea with me?"

[rowiewritesstuff]

Hi! Can I request poly hcs of yandere bayverse Optimus Prime & Megatron with fem reader. Could you possibly add some fluff? Thank you, love ur blog! 💕✨

Bayverse Poly! Yandere Optimus Prime X Reader X Megatron

A little longer than I meant, oops-

You’re Sam Witwickey’s sibling. You were more well-read than your brother, and much more polite. When Sam said that he was going to sell your great-great grandfather’s glasses, you were appalled. You immediately snatched them away from him. 

“These are antique! So are these!” You snatched other items up. “You can’t sell them, bozo!” 

“But I need the money! For the car!” Sam tried to grab them back. 

“What if I paid for a portion of it?” 

Sam halted his movements. “What?” 

You huffed. “I’ll pay for some of the car- but YOU have to make sure to give me rides sometime.”

“YES!” He coughed, “I mean, yeah. Sure. You’re my sibling, of course you’d get rides.” 

Then it happened- you met the Decepticons on the way to get the glasses fixed up. You dropped them off at the small antique shop and began your walk home.

A patrol car’s lights went off next to you, and you pulled off to the side into an alleyway. What shocked you the most, however, was when it transformed into a literal robot. You felt dizzy and collapsed to the ground unconscious.

“Frag.” Barricade muttered, pressing his servo to his helm. “Barricade to Starscream. I have the human, but they are unconscious.” 

“Bring them to me.” Starscream ordered.

Before Barricade could respond, a loud honk echoed around the alley and a semi slammed into him. Optimus quickly transformed and snatched you off the ground, handing you off to Bumblebee. “Get them to safety!” 

Bumblebee drove off with you in tow, and Sam quickly shook you awake. “Sam?” You asked. “What happened?” You suddenly remembered the giant robot that had forced you into the alleyway. “The robot-!” 

“Yeah, there’s a few of them. I’ll explain in a bit- where are the glasses?” 

“Back at the antique shop… why?”

Right after you went back to grab the glasses, you met the others. The situation was explained to you, and you were scared. You just wanted to go home and sleep. Unfortunately, as soon as you got home, people from ‘sector seven’ were there to take you away. 

You sat crying in the backseat as Sam and Mikela tried to comfort you. “It’ll be okay, (Y/N).”

“No it won’t!” Simmons said from the front seat. “Not unless you tell us what you kn-” 

The car slammed forward. Optimus ripped off the roof of the car. “Taking the children and (Y/N) was a bad move.” 

Optimus scooped you up to sit you on his shoulder, holding their weapons on the aggressors the entire time. 

When Sam and Mikela got taken, you stayed with Optimus. Once you all discovered where the allspark was, the Autobots began the journey there- you in tow. You wanted to go home, but Optimus wouldn’t let you. He said it was too dangerous to let you go back home.

During the trip, you and Optimus talked a lot. You both got to know each other really well. Despite it only being a few days, you developed a crush on him. 

During the battle, Optimus gave you and Sam an order- push the Allspark into his chest, and kill him. You shook your head as Sam moved to do as he was told. 

“NO, SAM!” You snatched it away. You looked at Megatron and brought the cube near him. 

A wicked grin appeared on his faceplates, and he held his servo out. “Good, yes, human! Bring it to me!”

A sadness painted your face. Yes, Megatron was evil- but you never wanted to take a life. “I”m sorry,” You whispered. Megatron’s face contorted in rage as you shoved the allspark into his chest. 

Before he died, he looked into your eyes. “I’ll get you for this, human!”

You never recovered from taking a life. Optimus was thankfully there for you, and you both grew extremely close. You were one of the few civilians permitted on the base, often helping out. Your official title was ‘liaison’. Even Galloway liked you. 

You were visiting Sam when the Decepticon attacked. You were all running for your lives, with you not understanding a thing of what was going on. Mikela’s car was swept up into the air by a helicopter. You were screaming loudly as it took you all away, and screamed even louder when the car was dropped through a roof and sawed into. 

Everyone stood up as Starscream spit at you. A deep voice came from behind you all. “Come here, boy.” Megatron hissed. Sam began walking towards him with his hands up. “Closer.” 

“Sam, no.” You whispered in fear. Megatron’s eyes met yours for the first time since you took his life. Your body froze as still as you could make it. 

Before you could say anything Megatron grabbed you up from where you were standing and held you in his servo. Sam yelled out your name. “SHUT UP!” Megatron yelled and slapped Sam across the room. 

“SAM!” You and Mikela shouted in fear. “Don’t hurt him! Please!” You begged. 

Megatron simply ignored you and pinned Sam down with his over servo. “It feels good to grab your flesh. I’m going to kill you. Slowly- painfully- but first, we have some delicate work to do.” Sam kept struggling as Megatron mocked him. “Ohhh, I could snap your limbs off.”

You struggled in the servo you were tightly held in. “Wait! It was me that killed you, so let him go! He didn’t do anything!”

Megatron squeezed you tighter in his grasp. “Oh, I have something much better planned for you. Now wait your turn.” You struggled to breath as the air left your lungs. Just before you passed out, he loosened his grip. It was a warning- if you weren’t quiet, he’d knock you out.

You watched in horror as a minicon send a small bug into Sam’s mouth. You had to look away in fear you’d throw up from the sight. In your mind you were hoping for Optimus to find you, to save you.

Your prayers were answered as Optimus and Bumblebee came slamming through into the building firing off shots. Megatron quickly stashed you in his subspace and began fighting Optimus. 

You were thrown around in the tight space and you hoped that Optimus would figure out you were in there. Sounds were muffled, but you could make out sounds of blasting. Soon enough, the sounds faded. The subspace opened and you were taken out into the sunlight. It took your eyes a moment to adjust, but when they did your heart stopped in your chest. 

On the ground before you was Optimus- a giant hole in his chest. He was obviously dead. You felt tears well up in your eyes as a wail left your throat.

“You’re mine now, human. Optimus will never be able to save you again.” 

Megatron took you with him to his hideout. He was originally going to use you to make Sam come out of hiding, but he soon realized why Optimus kept you around. You were smart for your race, and offered fairly good advice (even if said advice was forced out with the threat of violence). The Fallen left you alone, seeing the logic in a living hostage. 

In your short time there, Megatron had begun to grow feelings for you. He didn’t bother denying them- he was a Decepticon. If there was something he wanted, he’d take it. 

After his defeat and the Fallen’s death in Egypt, Megatron offered Optimus a deal he couldn’t pass up. 

“Why don’t we share them? Frag this war, and just hide away?” 

Optimus glared at him. “Do you really expect me to believe you?” 

Megatron chuckled. “You can either accept it, or never see them again, Prime.”

Optimus had no choice but to accept. They hid out on a small island, inhabited with nothing but animals. You were protected as long as you were with them. You also had plenty of books, food, and water. Anything you asked for, except your freedom, was given to you. 

However, at night, when everyone was resting, you were building a raft. You had a book that they gave you that had some basic instructions. When you set off, the raft was surprisingly sturdy. Your supplies were enough to last for a few days- hopefully when you would find someone to help you. 

When you heard the familiar sound of a jet, tears filled your eyes. You shouldn’t have even bothered to try. Megatron scooped you up and brought you back. When you got there, Optimus was waiting with a horrible glare on his face. 

“Where did you think you were going?” He growled. 

Tears fell before you could stop them. “I just wanted to see my family! My friends!” 

Optimus and Megatron felt a smidgen of guilt. Megatron held you closer as Optimus lifted your chin to make you look at him, a gentle smile on his faceplates. “And you will see them,” he petted your hair a little, “When you learn to behave. I can’t allow them to take you from me-”

“Us.” Megatron growled. 

Optimus glanced at him and back to you. “Us. You are ours. We won’t let you get away.”

Megatron chimed in with a sadistic grin on his faceplates. “If you ever try again, I’ll lock you away so you’ll never see the sun again. Understand?” 

All you could do is nod as a soft smile came to Optimus’ faceplates. “Good.” 

[lemoncrushh]

Scars

Summary: You have scars and are hesitant about letting Harry see you naked for the first time.

Warnings: body image issues (scars), smut - 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 2920

A/N: This was a special request from an old mutual back in 2016 (I still think of you often hon, wherever you are). Reader fic with a very sweet and caring Harry.

It was date number five...but who's counting?

You and Harry had spent the entire afternoon together, going to lunch at your favorite cafe and then shopping. You'd been a bit surprised when he'd suggested it, but it had turned out to be one of the most pleasant days you'd ever had. You'd browsed antique shops, thrift shops and a vintage record store, rounding out the shopping at a small boutique that you'd passed earlier, finally stopping to give a dress in the window a second look.

"Go try it on," Harry suggested, nudging your arm.

"What?" you blinked, looking up at him. He gave you an encouraging smile.

"We've passed this store three times. You obviously like that dress. Go try it on."

You bit your lip and gave a shrugged. "It's okay. It's late. I should probably be heading home."

"Y/N," said Harry, "Go. It'll look beautiful on you."

With a hesitant grin, you nodded. Harry opened the door for you and you stepped inside the boutique, immediately scanning the room for the dress on display.

"May I help you?" a kindly looking woman asked.

"I-" you opened your mouth, but it was Harry that answered.

"She wants that dress in the window."

The woman smiled at both of you. "Ah yes, right this way."

You followed her to a round rack near the wall where she asked you your size. Pulling one of the dresses out, she handed it to you.

"Fitting room is in the back," she sang. "My name's Delores if you need anything."

"Thank you," you replied.

Harry walked with you to the back of the store, finding a floral upholstered chair to sit in while you went in the dressing room.

Trying on clothes was not your favorite thing to do. In fact, you loathed it most of the time. But when Harry had given you his million-dollar smile, insisting that you try the dress on, that you'd look beautiful it nonetheless, it had made you feel a little less self-conscious. You only hoped the dress covered your scars.

Standing in front of the mirror, after removing your bra, you ran your finger over your most prominent scar. The type of dress this was, you would definitely have to go braless. Letting out a deep breath, you pulled the dress over your head. As soon as the fabric fell over your hips, you knew. It fit you perfectly. Twisting in it in front of the mirror, making the skirt twirl, you felt pretty. The thin straps didn't sag, the bust of the dress hugged you the way you'd hoped it would. And no scars could be seen. With a silent giggle, you took the dress off, placing it back on the hanger.

Once you were dressed in your own clothes, you emerged from the fitting room. Harry looked up from his phone, his expression disappointed.

"Did it not fit?" he inquired.

"No, it did," you grinned. "I'm getting it."

"Oh. But I didn't get to see."

You chuckled, heading toward the register. "Sorry."

Delores came around the counter, beaming. "Did that work out for you, doll?"

"Yes," you said as she rang you up.

"Let me get that," Harry offered, attempting to produce his wallet.

You turned to glare at him. "No thanks."

"Please?"

You raised a brow. "It's fine. I got it."

Once you'd paid for your dress, Harry held the door open for you again, following you out to the sidewalk. When you reached Harry's car and he unlocked it, you nearly jumped when he grabbed your hand.

"Since it's getting late, what do you say to dinner?"

You blushed, looking down at the ground. "We already spent all day together."

Harry's face fell. "Are you saying you're tired of me?"

You shook your head and laughed. "Far from it. I just didn't want you to get tired of me."

Harry stepped closer, his other hand brushing a strand of hair from your hair and tucking it behind your ear.

"That's not gonna happen," he muttered.

Your skin tingled from his gentle gesture and his deep voice.

"So, dinner?" he asked again. "You could wear your new dress. I'd love to see you in it."

You sucked in your lips, ready to burst out with an ecstatic yes, but not wanting to seem to eager.

"Okay," you finally whispered.

Harry drove you back to your place so you could change. He waited on the sofa while you went to the bedroom to put on your dress. You twirled in front of the full-length mirror, giggling at yourself before opening the door. When you stepped into the living room, Harry gazed up at you, his mouth slowly stretching into a smile.

"You look amazing," he said sincerely, standing up to meet you. His eyes travelled down your body and back up again, sending even more tingles throughout your skin. "So pretty."

Harry put his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, then another on your lips.

"Thank you," you grinned, your hands on his chest. "So where are we going for dinner?"

Harry sighed, his fingers gripping you tighter. "'m gonna have a hard time thinking about food."

You laughed out loud, your wrists winding around his neck. "Is it really that effective?"

Nodding, his fingers slid up your back. Then he rested his forehead against yours. "You have no idea," he added with a groan.

You bit your lip, your eyes even with his, though he was focused on something else.

"Don't do that, love," he pouted.

"What?"

Harry lifted his head from yours then, his thumb grazing across your bottom lip.

"Biting this lip," he explained. "Drives me crazy when you do that."

You raised your eyebrows. "Seems I'm learning a lot of new things about you today."

Harry gave a sexy smirk, one of his hands running up your arm to your shoulder. "What else you wanna know?"

The color rose to your cheeks and you shook your head. "Never mind. Let's go eat."

Dinner was wonderful. You sat in a round corner booth in a dimly lit, intimate restaurant. After appetizers and a glass of wine, Harry became very flirty, leaning in to place soft kisses on your neck and shoulder. His hand found your knee under the table, staying there for almost the rest of the next course, occasionally giving it a little squeeze. You smiled at him, covering his hand with yours. The way he looked at you made you warm all over, and you knew it wasn't just the wine.

By the time you'd finished eating, to say you were ready to go back to your place would be an understatement. Sometime during dessert, Harry's hand had begun traveling up your thigh, pushing your dress up just slightly. You were feeling a bit light-headed, knowing where this was surely going to lead.

You were nervous. So many questions had begun running through your mind. Was five dates too soon? What exactly was too soon? You'd already kissed him several times, the end of date four already coming close to a make-out session. You knew you wanted to sleep with him. He was sweet, fun to be with and extremely sexy. The anticipation was already getting to you. So, what were you nervous about?

Your scars.

No man had seen you naked since your surgery. You were scared about what he would think - or do - when he saw them.

"Ready to go?" you heard Harry ask, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"Sure," you blinked.

The car ride home was almost unbearable. Your insides trembled with desire, but your head was still running a mile a minute with worry and doubt. As you walked to your door, Harry took your hand, threading his fingers through yours before bring it to his mouth to kiss it. Then he stood behind you, his arms around your waist as you inserted the key. You bit your lip as you struggled to get the door unlocked.

"Stop it," Harry growled, his chin landing on your shoulder.

"Stop what? I'm having trouble with the key."

"That lip."

"Oh," you stifled a giggle, finally pushing the door free.

Harry released a breath, letting go of you long enough to enter the apartment. He stood to the side as you shut the door, watching you almost intently. Licking your lips, you tossed you bag on the sofa before turning to face him. Within two strides he'd crossed the room, taking your face in his hands. His mouth captured yours in an intoxicating kiss, soft and gentle at first before dragging his tongue across your bottom lip. You sighed, melting into him.

"I suspect this is when I usually leave," he conveyed, his eyelids heavy.

You nodded, your hands resting on his arms. "Yeah."

"But I don't really want to," he added.

You swallowed hard. "I don't want you to either."

His jaw tightening, Harry slid his hands down your shoulders, his fingers looping around the straps of your dress. You felt yourself tense up involuntarily and it wasn't lost on Harry.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," you breathed.

"Do you wanna go to the bedroom?"

You nodded silently. Harry took your hands, gesturing toward the bedroom with his head.

"Lead the way."

You bit your lip again, this time causing Harry to grit his teeth. "And stop fucking doing that."

You chuckled and pulled his hand, guiding him to the bedroom. As soon as you closed the door, he pushed you against it, his mouth covering yours. You made a sound, but not in protest. His body pressed against yours as you wrapped your arms around his neck. His kisses were hungry, his tongue dipping in your mouth repeatedly. Your entire body was on fire, and you knew you were only moments away from being disrobed.

Harry's hands roamed up your sides, cupping your breasts in your dress. The thin fabric did nothing to hide the firmness of your nipples as he ran his thumbs across them. You released a moan against his mouth, your fingers grasping at his hair.

"I want you, baby," he confirmed when he let go of your mouth, his eyes burning into yours.

You slowly lowered your arms from around his neck, sliding your hands down his chest. Harry closed his eyes softly as you did so, the touch apparently something he liked. His eyelids fluttering open, his lips parted slightly, he grabbed hold of your dress straps again. When you shuttered this time, Harry titled his head.

"What's wrong?"

"Um..." you stumbled. "It's...it's not...you."

Harry raised his eyebrows, stepping back. "We don't have to do this," he said.

You shook your head. "No, I want to."

Harry stared at you, his gaze silently willing you to speak.

"I...um...had surgery a couple years ago. I still have some...scars. And...I guess I'm a little self-conscious about them," you finally explained. You felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of you.

"Oh, love, it's alright," Harry cooed, stepping closer to you again. "Where are they?"

You dropped your head, gesturing to your chest. "Here."

Harry lifted your chin with his finger, forcing you to look at him.

"Listen to me, Y/N," he said tenderly, "If you don't want me to see them, I'll understand. But just know that I don't mind. You're beautiful. Your body is beautiful."

You felt yourself relax a bit at his words. You sighed before biting your lip, which you released immediately. Harry shook his head.

"You're gonna drive me fucking crazy, baby," he muttered.

"Sorry," you grinned.

"C'mere," he beckoned as he backed into the bed behind him.

He sat down, pulling you to stand between his legs. Running his hands up and down your hips, he lightly kissed your stomach.

"Tell me how I can make you comfortable," he requested.

"What?" you asked in surprise, your hands on his shoulders.

"I want to make you feel good, baby," said Harry. "But first I need you to trust me. So tell me what to do. Would you like the light off?"

You considered his question for a moment. Having the light off would make it easier. He wouldn't see your scars. But then you wouldn't see him either.

"Maybe....um...maybe just the lamp?" you pointed to the small lamp on the bedside table.

Harry turned his head to look at it. "Okay."

You walked over to the table, switching the lamp on before turning off the overhead light. It gave the room a warm glow.

"That's nice," Harry remarked. "What else?"

You shrugged. "I don't know."

"Do you wanna lie down?"

"Okay."

You kicked off your shoes before crawling on the bed, your head falling back on the soft pillow. You heard the sound of Harry's boots hitting the floor as he climbed up next to you, propped up on his elbow. His hand glided across your abdomen, his face inching closer to yours until he kissed you.

As his lips left a trail of kisses down your neck, he shifted on the bed, his leg between yours. You could feel his erection pressing against you while his mouth met your shoulder, just next to your strap, though he didn't move it.

Suddenly his hand on your stomach moved down, finding the hem of your dress. You gasped when his fingers met your panties, pushing them to the side. The pads of his fingers rotated on your clit, causing your breaths to quicken while his mouth still assaulted your neck and shoulders. When his lips came in contact with your dress strap again, Harry lifted his head and looped his other hand through the strap.

"Do you trust me?" he inquired.

Your eyelids were heavy from desire, the sensation of his fingers on your wetness making you see stars.

"Yes," you nodded.

Harry grinned, gently pulling the strap down off your shoulder, releasing your arm through it. He then continued to kiss your shoulder, moving down slowly to your chest. You closed your eyes when you knew he had to be reaching a scar. But he said nothing. He only kissed.

Quicker than you were ready to admit, he stopped his other hand, hovering over you to lower your other strap. His eyes were focused on yours then, with such intensity it almost made you want to cry. After he pulled your arm free from that strap, he finally lowered his head again, kissing your bare skin. Before you knew it, he'd grabbed the hem of the dress and pulled it down further until removing it completely. Lying in only your underwear, you gazed up at him, trying to read his expression.

"You're so beautiful," he said.

You blinked rapidly, biting your lip once more.

"Gimme that," Harry demanded, pulling your lip free with his thumb. Then he captured it between his lips, sucking gently. You let out a mewl, grasping at his shirt.

"Mmm...baby..." he breathed. "Do you still trust me?"

"Yes," you said with more affirmation than before as you watched him slide your panties down your hips.

"Do you want me?"

"God, yes."

Harry sat up, reaching behind himself to grab the back of his shirt, pulling it over his head before quickly returning to your mouth. You ran your hands down his back, bucking your hips against his. He groaned, the restraint of his jeans unacceptable.

Standing from the bed, he produced a condom from his wallet before removing the jeans quickly, as well as his boxers. You watched as he rolled the condom on, then positioned himself over you. His eyes never left yours as you felt the sting of him entering you. You grabbed his waist to guide him inside, where you wanted him the most. You saw his eyelids flutter as he pulled out almost fully before pushing in again.

"Baby..." he cried when he began to thrust faster.

You opened your legs wider for him, making him lift your thigh to get a better angle. The feeling was incredible, and though you didn't want it to end soon, you knew at this rate it would.

Harry cursed as he pumped into you, reaching deep inside. You cried out his name, climbing closer to your peak. Finally when he managed to tap your most sensitive spot again and again, your body shook, erupting with orgasm. Harry soon followed, his body stilling over yours as he came, a low groan rising from his throat.

"Jesus," he exhaled, collapsing on top of you.

You held him for a few minutes, your hands tickling his back. When he finally lifted his head, he planted a kiss on your mouth, and once again traveling down your neck and shoulders. When he reached your chest, he stopped, studying your scars for a few seconds. Ever so gingerly, Harry lifted a finger, tracing them with care. Then he lowered his mouth again, repeating the tracing with kisses.

You thought you heard him mumble something before he looked at you, but you couldn't make it out.

"What?" you asked, curious.

"I said you're wonderful, and beautiful, and you need to know that. So I'm going to make it my mission to make sure you always do."

With a slight smile, you pulled him to you, kissing his lips with fervor. Because you also wanted to make it your mission that he always knew you appreciated him.

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK | PATREON

[goobygnarp]

one day my grandma took me to a thrift store. It sat in the corner of a strip shop with big bold red letters that just read simple.

THRIFT STORE.

It hung under the arch protected by sun, rain, snow or whatever weather we decided to travel there for, and greeted us all the same like that day she took me.

i can't remember what we went there for, my grandma never was one to follow in her original plans. the kind who is on the highway when she assures you she's down the street. the one who says she's going to one place five stores later.

what we went there for would most likely be no different. At least not to her. for me, it was the same ol same ol. Surely we'd go there for clothes and spend hours sifting through clothes or searching for the signs hanging on the ceiling that would tell us what deals they have that day.

That is till I walked near the section where they have holiday themed items for sale. old decor made to coax elderly eyes with dull colors, floral designs and antiques. But some of these items would be plushies, dolls and toys for the kiddos.

And I was kiddo.

there sitting with her legs hung over the ledge, her fat feet weighed down, hands right at her side, ears drapped behind her head that covered a good portion of her back that once picked up, you'd see a nubby tail turning her around.

her head resembled that of an egg shape, two glass like eyes that had a brown ring. her nose threaded into a triangle with a line that trailed down into a smile when you tilted her head up.

her pink was washed out but still enough to catch my attention. her arms and legs dangled heavily from the beads that resided inside, sitting with ease with the same beads in her body.

She was adorable. not like the other stuff bears and bunnies that were shadowed by her greatness. I loved her and everything about her. showing her to my grandma who just simply plucked her from my hands and placed her onto the checkout counter without second thought. i guess my love for her was mine and mine alone.

Once we got home, she was my show and tell project. many of my cousins or aunts and even my sibling got to meet her. She was all our toys' best friend. even when love got to her, where change became known when her eye fell out. my sibling super glued it back in and she was still loved all the same.

my love for her was mine and mine alone.

such love became potent and spread to my younger cousin, who at the time drove me up the entire state building. any moment she could, she'd have that bunny in her arms, causing fights between herself and I just to let my plush go.

but age won in my cousin's favor. she was younger and treated with ease as i would be told to let her play with it. even so much as allowing said little cousin to leave the house with her when going to a store.

My love to her was mine and mine alone. I thought.

any moment she'd return back to me, I'd make sure to keep her with me till she had to join the rest of the toys in a dark closet ready for the next kid who decided to play with her.

Unfortunately, details of a move have been lost in time, as now in a new house, i only recall the last time I saw her. she sat the same way I found her.

her legs dangled over the shelf ledge , arms at her side and ears drapped behind her. although accompanied by fake plants and picture frames, she looked a little squished. still cute. still loved.

and never seen again.

i can't remember how i lost her. i had this idea that my little cousin stole her in secret , making it so any time i'd visit said cousin, id sneak a look in their toybox in search for my plushie.

but she was not there. she wasn't anywhere. and in the years that's passed, she's somewhere still being adorable and hopefully loved.

her love was mine and mine alone.

Her name was panini. She had a lot of friends and loved to wear dresses and make friends.

if i find her again.

her love will be mine and mine alone.

[projectbluearcadia]

[P1] Heart of Blue

Lucifer x GN!MC

[ Part 1 ] [ Part 2 ]

[ Scenario: After a sweet and short date, Lucifer gets a l'il greedy and wants to spend some more time with you. With cuddles straight into caring sex, Lucifer wants to savor every moment.

Part 1 is fluff; Part 2 is fluffy smut. ]

I am publishing before my self-imposed due date for once, but it comes at the price of two parts. Here's to all the vanilla Luci-lovers <3.

Wordcount - 1178

“I was just thinking about getting...” What—Where the hell did he go?! you think as you look for Lucifer through mounds of antiques. Bizarre china, paintings, books, borderline ancient tools, rusty plant holders, old clothes, and no sign of your (stupid) boyfriend. He was right next to me! you think, annoyed as you wander back through the way you came. 

“Look at this,” you hear him say, before you feel his hand around yours—half-shocking you to death—before he drags you in the direction he's been looking. A wall full of pans. What in the ninth hell is he… “It’s Dead Steel,” he explained, hefting one such pan off the wall before he placed it into your hands and nearly made you drop to the floor in the process. He laughed softly as you struggled to hold it, shaking as you carefully set it down onto a dangerously creaking floorboard. 

“And… And why is that so fascinating?” you ask, trying to conceal your exasperation with him, and he turned to look at you, bemused. 

“It’s Dead. Steel,” he said, again, before he effortlessly swung the pan up by the handle and inspected the engraving. “The Devildom long fazed out of using it because the material is highly resistant to being enchanted. It’s heavy, it’s damn near indestructible, great for hitting people…” He flipped the pan over, fascinated as his burgundy eyes roved over it. “I haven’t seen one of these in thousands of years.” His eyes widened at the dark red, nearly invisible squiggle on the bottom. “Wait, this is my pan. I was wondering where that went.” 

“...you really are an old man,” you can’t help but snicker. To think he was so old that his possessions were ending up in antique shops that sold only items that were at least 500 years old.

“Oh, shut up, you,” he grunted. “You aren’t even the sperm cell that squirted from your father’s penis.” You find yourself furtively looking around while you cringe, hoping to low hell that no one heard that. 

“Lucifer!” you scold, and he chuckled. 

“Aw, does this old man embarrass you?” 

“Yes, but more importantly, please do not talk about my father’s genitals.” Some things are better left to the imagination, although Lucifer hasn’t quite seemed to grasp that concept yet. 

“You started it,” he hums, apparently pleased with your reaction nevertheless as he takes the 25 kilo pan in one hand. Child. He is actually a child, you complain in your head as he swings the handle on one finger. I guess he’s buying it. And how is he doing that? “MC, if you don’t pick something, I will buy something for bed,” he teases, picking up a cat o’ nine tails and shaking it tauntingly at you. 

“Now that you mention it, I was very interested in something before you ran off, thank you,” you answer shortly before you take him by the hand instead, dragging him back to where you had been roaming before he went and disappeared, shoving him in front of a small, glass case. Lucifer’s eyes widen, and his leather-gloved hands rest lightly on the case. 

“You really will melt my heart one of these days, MC,” he says solemnly, confusing you as you look back at the case. It’s just a pair of fountain-tipped pens that were completely unremarkable aside from what appeared to be two different snakes wrapped around them. One was the color of the ocean, and the other was the color of the sky. It wasn’t one ocean or one sky, because the snakes’ scales had been painted one by one into a satisfying gradient. 

“Is it because they’re cheap?” you guess, and Lucifer shakes his head as he takes the glass case with a faint yet bittersweet smile. Reminiscing, but it’s not the same. Did I find a precious memory by accident?

“No, not at all,” he replies as he takes the case with him, still faintly smiling as he brings both items to the register, paying for them both (He got a discount just because of who he was. Bastard).

“So are you going to tell me?” you prod as he hands the case to you, turning the pan in his hand as he walks in the direction of home with you. “Did you own these too?” He inclines his head. So he just bought back two old possessions. I’m almost surprised he didn’t demand that he receive them for free. 

“I gave them to Lilith as a gift,” he replies wistfully. O-Oh. Wow. Out of all the pens in the world I could pick… “I never really liked the man whom she would eventually call her husband, but I wasn’t stubborn enough that I couldn’t see how happy he made her. I gave them to her so that they could write to each other discreetly.” His tenderness, his kindness and his rich smile in that moment make you remember exactly why you fell in love with this prideful little bugger. 

“So… it’s a fond memory,” you clarify, and Lucifer softly chuckles behind his fist, his eyebrows scrunching together as he walks next to you, his step slow as if he never wanted to stop walking with you. 

“Fond, stupid, sweet… she actually argued with me about it because she said I’d be punished too if she was caught using them. I ended up yelling at her.” Lucifer smiles a little bitterly. “I would have rathered that God held me responsible as her older brother…?” Lucifer glances at you in confusion as you shake your arm in pain. “MC, did you just hit me?” 

“Really need to make it a habit to use magic to protect myself when I do that,” you grumble to yourself, rubbing your elbow, which had made contact with his oblique. Like elbowing a wall, Jesus... “Yes, I hit you. You’re doing the thing again. What’d we talk about?” 

“‘You are not at fault for your sister’s death, you do not deserve to be punished for your sister’s death, and no one blames you for your sister’s death. God can eat shit and go fuck himself,’” Lucifer parroted, word-for-word.

I’m happy you remember, but you really should be saying that from a first-person perspective... “I’m sorry. I know she’d hit me herself just the same. It’s just… difficult sometimes.” Lucifer shifted the pan to his other hand and offered his now-free one to you. You squeeze the glass case in your left before you lay your right in his, smiling with contentment as he looks at you fondly. “All the more reason to prize the things I have.” He gave you a surprise kiss on your temple as he leaned closer to you. “I have a meeting with Diavolo in half an hour, but…”

“But?” you prompt, and he rests his head against yours. 

“If… you’re not busy, then we’re cuddling up somewhere.” 

“Big softie,” you accuse lightly before you kiss his cheek. ‘If you’re not busy’; what a load of nonsense, you think with a smile. He already knows I don’t have anything to do today. I guess Diavolo’s just going to have to wait…

[callsigndragon]

Prompt list:

#25 for a himbo Rooster pls (not a surprise…I bet you’re tired of writing for Rooster…but I couldn’t resist 🙈) 💖

𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕚 𝕘𝕠 𝕚 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 | B.B

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x reader (not use of y/n)

prompt: being reminded of them by random things around them

warnings: mentions of Goose

A/N: Best boy for my best baby <3 hope you like this one

Rooster didn't travel light for someone who had spent his entire life traveling, never settling down and always moving on to the next port as soon as a new mission became available.    

He had several items with him. Some were just aviator stuff: his glasses, his uniforms, patches from past units he had been at in the past... The usual.   

Some of them, on the other hand, were quite personal and random. You swear you see bits and pieces of him everywhere you go.  

Ugly Hawaiian shirts at the store near the beach.   

A small foldable moustache comb you end up buying as a joke, but something tells you it is going to be in his pocket everywhere he goes.   

You pay for a rooster plush as soon as you lay eyes on him. Your imagination begins to devise a scheme to grab one of Bradley's old t-shirts and dress the plushie in it. You know, to keep you company during those long weeks he's away.    

An old Polaroid camera, like the one his father had. The one he lost so long ago…   

He only told you about the camera once, but the excitement in his eyes as he showed you the massive Polaroid collection Goose amassed during his short time as an aviator was enough to make an imprint in your mind.    

You weren’t actively searching for the camera, but every time you saw a photography shop or an antique store, you had to look out for it.   

Today, luckily, you found it in the only place you weren’t expecting to: a garage sale.   

"What's this, honey?" He asks, dropping his phone on the sofa and giving you his full and undivided attention.  

"I went to a garage sale."   

He places a hand on his chest, opens his mouth, and gasps. "Without me?"  

"Yeah, but that wasn't my intention!" I was driving by and had a sense. I needed to get out of the car and look around." You nudge the package closer to him, expecting him to open it.    

"At least you brought me something."   

"You know you’re like a kid sometimes."   

"Charming, I know." He smiles while opening the box, his heart stopping for a bit once he holds the camera in his hands. "H-how... I only told you once."   

You smile, taking a place on the sofa with him and watching his face light up like a kid on Christmas morning. "I made it my personal mission to find you one."   

"I love you so much," he whispers while his lips brush against yours before pulling you for a kiss.   

@novastories

@purplevortexx

@kmc1989

[mrhyde-mrseek]

Reasons why my town could be a cryptidcore town:

Already plenty of ghost stories, several of which are downtown by the waterfront alone.

My own house is 230+ years old and haunted by a little girl, there’s another house on my street that I think is around 300 years old.

Said ~300 year old house is owned by a woman who hosts a knitting club. There are constantly cars in her driveway. It’s a super old house. My sister and I are of the firm belief that she leads a knitting coven of witches.

There’s a creepy (and also super racist and misogynistic) cult that lives within walking distance of my house and also owns a store and deli downtown. They have tried to kidnap people.

Old buildings in general, just—everywhere.

Somewhere along the highway you can see an armchair sitting in the woods facing the road. No idea when, how, or why it was placed there.

The local mall is still functioning, but it’s so empty all the time that it’s practically abandoned.

Dunkins EVERYWHERE. Which is not at all abnormal for my area, but I work at one and it’s utter chaos. Things break ALL. THE. TIME. It has to be paranormal interference at this point. The dumpster out back is near a copse of trees and feels super creepy, especially at night in the pitch darkness.

There’s this one shop in the mall I went into over the summer with some friends. I had been to the mall less than a week before, and that shop had NOT been there. Then the owner started talking to us about the Johnny Depp trial like it was recent news. At that point in time it was not recent news. The next time I visited the mall that shop was in a completely different place than last time.

Seriously being in the mall late at night or very early in the morning is like a liminal space I swear to god.

There’s an antique store that used to contain a painting that gave me weird vibes and made the entire room it was in feel haunted.

When I was little I saw a crow in my front yard that to this very day I swear on my life was the size of a turkey. I never saw it again. Nobody believes me.

[the-slittening]

Hi guys! Roommate update because I'm actually fucking insufferable and have anxiety AND a tendency to overshare, so I need to talk about this as quickly as possible. So, we met at a coffee shop, and they brought their dog and boyfriend. Their boyfriend was pretty cool, but I really only saw him for about 5 minutes. We just said hi, and then he had to go. I'll share a dog picture (and maybe another picture...) at the end! I got a lavender, vanilla, and honey frozen coffee, very good, would get again. We sat and talked for a couple minutes (really just saying hi, we already kinda know each other) and then decided to go walk around the other stores. We actually went to the park for maybe 15 minutes, then had to take their dog home. Met their siblings, very awkward, but they were just playing Minecraft, so it could have been worse. One of them said hi to the empty couch that I was nowhere near. Then we went to a candy shop, kind of uneventful. Then an antique shop! We found uranium glass, which we both thought was cool. Very glad I carry around a black light now! I can post pictures of that, too, I guess? Then, back to the coffee shop. It was kind of fun, actually! I don't know why I'm giving a literal play by play of the 3 hours we spent together, maybe because I have a terrible memory and even if this goes down in flame, I'm trying to be more happy(?) and I was pretty happy today. They're VERY respectful, it kind of shocked me. I for sure thought I'd be the one more similar to Phil, but just like in all of life, I am not. And that's okay. I kind of like being a platonic hopeless romantic. And who knows, maybe in 15 years we'll still be friends, and then again maybe not. This is actually the most optimistic I've felt in so long.

[thespiritssaidso]

Psychic Meet Demon

A Psych and Good Omens crossover that literally no one asked for

Shawn Spencer meeting Crowley. What could go wrong?

Notes: hey, @andiv3r @j-snapdragon. I made the thing :3

It was a cloudy, yet still beautiful day in Soho. Shawn, Gus, and Juliet had all planned on taking a trip around the country.

Gus had gone off to attend a Robert Pattinson meet-and-greet. Juliet had found a small coffee shop nearby called ‘Give Me Coffee Or Give Me Death’ which seemed a bit on-the-nose. And Shawn… well, he was looking around at all the little shops. It was his and Juliet’s anniversary, and he had forgotten to get her something.

This led him to wandering into a small antique bookshop, his logic being ‘girls like old stuff, and books, right?’.

Walking in, he subconsciously started to profile the entire place. It was beautiful, and obviously very well taken care of. The whole place emanated a warm, comforting glow. There were stacks of books on every other table, in a seemingly random order. Shawn was sure that if there was any system to where the books went, it certainly wasn't any way someone could simply guess.

The only thing that didn’t match with the bookshop’s aesthetic was the redhead sprawled on the armchair, dressed head to toe in varying shades of black with just a hint of red. They were also wearing a dark pair of designer sunglasses that not only hid their eyes from the front, but also from the sides. Strange.

“Oh, er, excuse me!”

He turned to see someone pop up from behind a bookshelf, making their way towards him. They were wearing a completely white outfit, a blatant contrast to the other person.

“I’m very sorry, but I’m supposed to tell you you can’t purchase any of these books.”

“Why not?”

They tilted their head 45 degrees. “Why do you sound funny?”

Shawn was taken aback. “I’m... Sorry?”

They let out a little gasp. “There! You did it again!”

He shook his head. “This is just how I sound. I’m not… doing a bit, or anything.”

“Wow-”

“Muriel!”

Shawn looked over and saw that the redhead had finally gotten up. He looked them over again, and noticed that although their clothes and hair were nice, there was a slightly unkempt look to it.

“Why don’t you go… erm, make us some cocoa. I’ll take care of this.”

“Oh, I’m not sure you’re allowed to do that, Mr. Crowley! I was given strict orders-”

“I’m sure his majesty Aziraphale ‘too-good-for-us-and-our-bookshop’ Fell won’t mind if I deal with a customer.”

'Muriel' tightened their lips in an unsure gesture. “Alright.” They walked off, heading somewhere upstairs.

‘Crowley’ turned back around to face Shawn. “Go away.” They shooed him, waving at the door.

But Shawn had been rooted in his position, curious as to what exactly was going on. He didn’t know how to actually address it, so he started with, “So…” Shawn trailed off. “Uh, tough breakup?”

Crowley’s face hardened — or, at least, what he could see. The sunglasses obscured a decent part of their face. “What tipped you off?”

Thinking quick, he raised his hand up to his temple. “I, my good sir, am psychic. That’s how I know.”

Crowley raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Oh, psychic. Well, you should know then, that if anyone calls me 'sir' more than once, I get very angry.”

That unnerved Shawn. They hadn’t even done anything, and yet he felt intimidated. Luckily (or would it be unluckily?), this wasn’t the first time he’d been threatened. He shook it off. “Okay, got it. They/them pronouns then, I assume?”

They nodded. “Currently.”

He watched as they backed off, stalking to the armchair and settling in it once more. “Geez, Londoners are so violent.”

Crowley eyebrows furrowed. “We’re nowhere near London.”

Now it was Shawn’s turn to be confused. “Uh, yeah? It’s like, a 15 minute drive, give or take.”

They nodded. “Exactly. Nowhere near London.”

Once Crowley was properly settled, they folded their hands and faced him.

"So," Crowley started. "You say you're a psychic, is that right?"

"Well, I don't know. Are you british?" Shawn asked, meaning for it to be a rhetorical question.

"No. Why would you think that?"

"Not sure. It might be the British accent." he said, using a fake accent near the end.

"Are you mocking me?"

He raised his hands in defense. "Not at all."

They were quiet for a moment. Then Crowley said, "Alright. If you're psychic, then read me.'' Shawn could tell they didn’t believe him, rather, they were only humoring him.

He shrugged, acting nonchalant. “Okay then.” Shawn did a quick scan of Crowley, and a just as quick look outside.

Shawn’s hand jumped to its usual position near his temple, eyes closed in faux concentration.

"I'm seeeeinggg... black. And another word, bento? No, Bentley! You own a black Bentley. And it's old, but still a nice car." He wiggled his fingers and continued. "I'm also seeing green... greeen seats? No, the seats are black too. Green- green- green plants! Stashed inside your car. You've moved, probably recently, and you're... living in your car? That's kinda sad, dude." One more observation, just one more Shawn. "Annddd I can see you doing... something, something reckless. Something daring..." Crowley tensed a bit. "You're a bad driver. For shame." Shawn only knew that last one because a day ago, he had seen the same black Bentley speeding through traffic, at what was probably 90 miles an hour.

Crowley's eybrows were raised in surprise. "Impressive. Well, it would be, if none of those observations came from things you could have easily drawn conclusions from by simply looking around."

Shawn's hand fell from his head in defeat.

They finally asked, “Why’re you here, anyway? You don't exactly seem like the 'reading old books' type."

He only took slight offence at that. "Oh, it's my wife and l's anniversary. Andddd I may or may not have forgotten about it until the last minute-"

Crowley held up a hand, like they understood more than Shawn could ever imagine. "Say no more." They got up once again and sauntered over to the counter.

They started pretending to go through the drawers, randomly shuffling things aside. Shawn saw them in the reflection sneakily wave their hand, as if they were pulling a string up from the earth.

Crowley opened their hand, and a book started to materialize. Shawn couldn’t help but widen his eyes, shocked at what he just saw. But he quickly schooled his features when Crowley came back up. He decided to keep what he saw to himself.

“There you go.” It was a copy of Pride and Prejudice. Juliet had been going on about how she had loved that book as a kid, and was heartbroken when she lost it in the move from Florida to California.

“Oh my gosh- this is perfect!” Shawn flipped through the pages. Oh yeah, she was definitely going to forgive him once she saw this.

Crowley cleared their throat, and Shawn looked back up from the book. They were holding out a small paper bag with little black and red designs dotted around it.

"Right, thanks." He took the bag and gently placed the book inside it.

They made a face when he said that. "Don't mention it."

There was a moment of silence.

“Y’know, I never knew she was an author. Had to have the books themselves presented to me to prove it. Absolutely boggled me when I found out. I still don’t quite believe it.”

“Really? Who told you?”

Crowley let out a small laugh. “Well, that’s a funny story. Aziraphale and I-” Their voice tapered out. All previous emotions drained, which left them looking dead inside.

“Close the door on your way out.” Without another word, they left from behind the counter, and around the back of one of the many bookshelves.

Muriel appeared from the staircase, holding two mugs of hot chocolate, which they set on the counter, and went back to doing what they had been doing before Shawn had come in.

“What happened between Crowley and Aziraphale?” He asked.

“Oh! Well, he erm… he left.” He could tell they were technically telling the truth when he looked in their eyes.

“Okay. Where’d he go?”

“Heaven!” They said it so bluntly, it caught him off guard.

“Oh my- oh gosh, I’m really sorry to hear that.”

Muriel’s face scrunched up a bit. “That’s what everyone I’ve told has been saying.” They smiled. “But it’s alright now! He’s in a better place. I’m sure he’s quite happy.”

He just nodded. “Alright then. Well, tell Crowley I said thank you.” And with that, he left the little bookstore and across the street, where Juliet was having a nice talk with the coffee shop owner.

—————

Bonus:

It was nighttime now, and Crowley was still lounging on the armchair near the entrance. Muriel walked over to him.

“Would you like me to make you a cupperty? It always makes me feel better.”

Crowley grunted. “No Muriel. ’M fine.”

“…alright then.” They looked across the street, where Maggie was helping Nina close up shop. “You know, that was a very nice thing you did for that human.”

They grumbled from the chair. “Not. Nice.”

Muriel just smiled, and ambled back over to one of the shelves, probably looking for another book to read.

With a soft sigh, they slowly started morphing into a large, black and red scaled snake. Still draped all over the armchair, Crowley fell asleep.

——————————

That's it :) I hope ya enjoyed <3

AO3 link

[jiliansky-blog]

Spell of the heart. Chapter 2. A spell

Pairing: Morpheus x FemaleReader

Rating: PG

Words: 1400

You decided to try this spell to enter another world. If something goes wrong, nothing will happen. So you waited till you became alone in your house and started to read it. For a minute, nothing happened, and you almost laughed, but then your world went dark.

The next time you opened your eyes, you appeared somewhere else. You were in a place with beautiful landscapes and nature. But where is this place? Maybe you fell asleep. But you weren’t tired in your room.

So you decided to take a look. What spell did, really? Where it brought you? When you make a short walk, you saw a castle across the river.

“Who the hell are you?” You suddenly heard a male voice. And when you looked, you saw a man with a pumpkin head.

“And who are you?” you asked in return. You have never seen such a creature before. He looked like a Jack from Nightmare before the Christmas.

“I’m Mervin,” he said grumpily. “Caretaker of the Dreaming.”

“The Dreaming?” you asked.

“That is the Dreaming,” he replied. “The Kingdom of Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless. Don’t you know it?”

“No,” you said carefully. “But what exactly is this place? Another world?”

“You can say it,” he said, nodding. “It’s the place where you appeared in your sleep.”

“But I…I didn’t fall asleep,” you denied.

“Well, what?” he was confused.

And after that a raven sat on his shoulder. And the raven could speak.

“What’s up?” he asked. “Boss sent me to check what is going on.”

“This girl appeared here, but she said that she is not dreaming,” replied Mervin. “I think we need to tell him or Luce.”

“The girl is right here,” you admitted.

“Boss is going to be vivid,” said the raven. “He is moody right now.”

“But we need to inform them,” said Mervin.

You took a chance on their conversation and tried to slip past them to the castle. But you were stopped but griffon, Pegasus and dragon near the entrance.

“No one should enter the castle without the invitation of our lord,” said the dragon.

“I will tell him,” the raven flew past you.

You sighed. What are you going to do? What if this king is cruel and terrible? You shouldn’t go to the castle. Perhaps, you should just stay out of sight of everyone. What if he throws you into some dungeon for trespassing?

You were going to leave when you heard a deep male voice.

“What are you doing here?”

You turned around and saw the man. He was tall and dressed in a black coat. His hair was also black and messy. His skin was white, and his eyes were blue and shone like stars. God, he was so handsome.

“I don't know, really,” you finally replied.

“My raven said you didn’t fall asleep,” he said.

“No,” you agreed.

“So, how did you get here?” he asked coldly. “Simple dreamers can’t just walk here.”

“I bought a book,” you said. “There was a spell on how to get to another world. I thought it was fake and less harmful. And are you a king of dreams, as Mervin was talking about?”

“Indeed,” he said. “I’m Morpheus, Dream of the Endless. And what is this book was about? Are you a witch?”

“No!” you said. “I told you, I didn’t quite believe it would work. I just want to try something magical. I want to believe it will work.”

“Hm…” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Perhaps that was one of the missing books from my library. Who gave it to you?”

“A woman that works in the shop,” you said.

“How did she look?” he asked. “What is her name?”

His questions were like commands Like he got used to making orders. He probably was, if he is really the king.

“Tall, dark-haired,” you said. “I don’t know her name, though. The shop was new with these old antique books.”

He continues to look at me. Then he nodded.

“Al right,” he said. “It’s time for you to wake up.”

But nothing happened, and you stare at each other for a minute. That’s when you understood that something goes wrong.

Morpheus

Some spell books were missing from my library. And now an unknown human girl has appeared in my kingdom. And she obviously put on some spell and can’t just wake up.

“Now what?” she asked.

“That makes everything difficult,” Matthew admitted.

“What everything?” she asked again. “Can someone explain, please?”

“You have to stay here,” I said, annoyed. “While I figure out what to do with you. And with a book. Where is it?”

“In my room, I think,” she replied. “Does that mean I am sleeping or the spell works, and I’m fully in another world?”

“That has to be seen,” I said.

“What should I do till then?” she asked.

“You should go to my castle and don’t try to mess something up,” I said seriously.

“Alright,” I let her in and then left Matthew to watch and look after her. And I came straight to the library. I need to tell Lucienne.

“There is something more,” I said.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I know where one book is,” I replied. “It seems that she sells my books. One girl bought it, and now she is here.”

“What?” she was confused. “Why is she doing it?

“I don’t know,” I replied. “Now I need to get my books back.”

“And what about the girl?” she asked.  

“She needs to stay here,” I sighed. “I can’t wake her up because she is not sleeping. That spell she read sent her here.”

“Is she a witch?” Lucienne asked.

“She denies,” I said. “Matthew watches her.”

“Dangerous idea,” she sighed.

“Why is that?” I asked.

“Mortals can’t be here,” she replied. “And Matthew she can show her something.”

“Then maybe you should look after her.” I asked.

“Me?” she asked. “I’m not a babysitter.”

“Just give her a book, Lucienne,” I said.

“I am not a child,” It seemed like the girl was following me to the library. “I agree with your librarian. I don’t need babysitting. But if you let me look into your books, I won’t distract you”.

I turned around and looked at her. She didn’t seem scared. She was confident and smiled charmingly and friendly.

“Very well,” I said. “But don’t touch any old books. Lucienne will show where you can look.”

And I went away. I need to find Thessaly and my books.

“Hello,” you smiled, less confident than before, to the librarian. “I’m Y\N. Sorry for bothering you here. I didn’t expect to find this place.”

“I’m Lucienne,” she smiled. “What exactly happened to you?”

Morpheus left you with the raven, named Matthew. He was chatty. And he said that followed his boss isn’t a good idea. But you followed him anyway. And now you told your story to the woman.

“So you didn’t expect this to work but cast the spell anyway,” she said with skepticism.

“Something like that,” you said.

“But why?” she asked.

“I want to go to another world,” you replied honestly.

“And you’re not a witch,” she admitted.

“No,” you said. “As far as I know, at least.”

“Maybe your wish was true,” she sighed. “Lord Morpheus won’t like it.” He doesn’t like when someone stays in his realm.”

“Well, I didn’t expect that,” you said. “Can you tell me more about this world? Please? Or show me some books?”

“You seem nice,” she sighed again. “This is the Dreaming. The world where you go while you sleep. Or your mind goes.”

“I heard this already from Mervin,” you admitted.

“Oh, you’ve already talked to him,” she nodded. “Alright, lord Morpheus created this kingdom long time ago. He also creates dreams and nightmares. Everything here is part of him.”

“No way,” you said, bewildered.

“That’s true,” she nodded. “He can be rough sometimes, though. He is not very good at communication.”

“I can see that,” you smiled. “It looks rainy today.”

“Well, the weather depends on his mood,” she admitted.

“Yeah, they said he is moody today,” you replied.

“They should stop talking about him in front of strangers,” she sighed. “Common, I find you some books to read.”

Lucienne brought some books that you were waited for a long time. So you are going to be busy for some time. And probably, you won’t annoy Morpheus.

When you finished the first one, you decided to rest and think about the situation you had gotten yourself into. How long are you going to stay here? And if there was any chance to talk to this mysterious god of sleep?

@shadowqueen1318 @mypsychoticlove @justathirstyhoe​ @ladymoztaza @sapphireonline @deniixlovezelda

[sweetfirebird]

A Fairy in Everlasting

Feverfew Mole on Patreon made two donations but only one request, but it’s okay, because I went long with it. I suspect because I had Everlasting on my mind already (for Reasons) and so this happened. Don’t hate me.

Request was: a fairy walks into Everlasting Cuppa

Content tags: mention of homophobia/queer phobia as well as in-universe anti-being prejudice. Spoilers for Treasure for Treasure and His Mossy Boy. (and maybe Little Wolf??? But only slightly and vaguely?) um, some pining I suppose. Of a sort. Sorry not sorry. It is necessary.

Note: this is probably going to end up changed a bit and put into the new thing which is on my mind currently (see above) so… like Albert says, sometimes you have to wait a while. 

A Fairy in Everlasting

Downtown Everlasting was the sort of place travel guides would deem quaint: small buildings and shops in white and faded pastels, neat and orderly sidewalks, old-fashioned street lamps, not a chain store in sight. The downtown was centered around a plaza of brick paths and decorative trees and benches that might have been in any small town if not for the statue of a dragon that had pride of place.

Outside of those few blocks, Everlasting was a tiny town overlooking a bay, with old abandoned canneries visible as one drove into town and wilderness on every other side. The skies above were gray, the mountains green with endless redwoods, the fog was everywhere and nowhere, and the ocean water was chilly blue.

It was beautiful.

Not even the frozen rain that began and ended with no warning could make Pansy think otherwise.

“Civilization and nature in one delightful package,” he said aloud into his phone, recording his impressions so he wouldn’t forget them later. He hadn’t even gotten to the dragons yet, which was the reason most people, including Grimsby, had assumed he’d wanted to come here.

With the attack on the dragon and the resulting court case in the news, the town of Everlasting was under discussion around the country in a way it possibly had never been. The only things keeping more busybodies away was the long drive required to get here, the lingering winter weather, and very likely a fear of the dragons themselves.

Lots of people thought of themselves as accepting, or on the side of one Zarrin Xu, wounded dragon, but the idea of being near dragons would have remained intimidating even if the dragons had been poor; the obscenely rich were their own danger.

Luckily, Pansy was not obscenely rich and never would be and at least never had to worry about that. He darted to a shop window lit with white fairy lights to peer at the antiques and curiosities on display—or would have darted, but his bulky parka and thermal pants beneath his jeans did not allow much darting.

Not the ideal ensemble for a fairy, and especially not to Pansy’s tastes when he did have to wear clothes, but it was so blasted cold up here, and there was so little sun. He very grateful that Grimsby had insisted he take his sun lamp on this adventure of theirs. Pansy would use it later when he returned to their hotel room and woke up the sleeping lump on the other bed.

The only reason he hadn’t woken Grimsby before leaving this morning was that they’d arrived in Everlasting late the night before and poor Grims had done all the driving to get there and deserved some extra rest. Also, no fairy would get very far making friends if they expected everyone to sleep—or not sleep—the way they did.

The shop was not open for the day yet. A pity, but Pansy could investigate it later. He had weeks to explore Everlasting if he wanted. He’d burned with curiosity since first seeing an overhead picture of the town and his brief peek into the town’s history had only convinced him that this was the place to go for atmosphere for his next book or two.

“Everything is set in the city,” he had explained to Queeny, Ginger, Dahlia, and the rest at the impromptu party they’d thrown for him and Grims before they’d left. “Except for the historical shorts. People will get bored. And anyway, what says mystery-romance more than an isolated, foggy, rainy town on the coast?”

They had not been convinced but Pansy had known he was right the second Grims had driven them past the wooden sign announcing they were entering Everlasting, the gloriously decrepit canneries and piers off to one side, the bay beyond that.

The cold, however, was a bit much. He’d have to get better gloves. His fingerless gloves, knitted himself, could not withstand the wet chill.

He chewed his lip, tasting birthday cake-flavored lip gloss, and turned from that window to continue down the sometimes-foggy street in search of people and warmth.

It wasn’t that early, although he imagined all children would be in school and most adults would have gone to work, probably leaving town to do so. Something had to pay for those big homes in the foothills, or the carefully maintain Victorians scattered throughout the area. Not everyone could live in the tinier homes closer to the water that he’d glimpsed on his walk from the hotel.

Several crows perched on a streetlamp ahead of him, their beady eyes reminding Pansy of the stares from the desk clerk at the hotel when he and Grimsby had walked into the lobby. Pansy had assumed that was because of Grimsby—Grims was only a were, and they were always big. Grims was just blessed with the worst RBF known to being and humankind. He’d probably frightened the poor girl, which was why Pansy had stepped forward to discuss the reservation and take care of the details.

Maybe that had surprised her too, a fairy doing that. Pansy was quite organized, all things considered, but recording things did help, as did having a best friend around to poke him and offer reminders.

But none of that explained her staring, or the stares from the new desk clerk this morning. Or how the mailman leaving the post office building had nodded an absent greeting to Pansy before doing a double take and giving him a far more piercing look.

Pansy paused at the next available shop window to peer down at his blue and indigo parka, and then, thoughtfully, at his painted yellow fingernails. A town that was used to dragons surely wouldn’t object to a fairy, or so he’d assumed. But dragons were special to humans as fairies weren’t. Powerful. People made exceptions for power. Maybe with everyone else, older human prejudices remained.

Pansy raised his gaze to study his face, making a kissy face at himself after brushing his purple-lavender bangs from his face. “Gorgeous, darling,” he assured himself, and turned from the window with a bit more determination. “And you’ll heal if anything happens,” he added, quieter, glancing up when the crows above him cawed.

He nodded. “Exactly.” Pansy didn’t get where he was by showing fear.

And if he did feel fear, well, he’d brought a mean-looking were to hide behind.

Speaking of, in addition to wanting to warm up a bit, Pansy should find some hot food and coffee to take back to his growly bestie. Although Grimsby would likely abandon him in favor of some godawful hike through the mountains before too long. Possibly even today, once the fresh air hit him.

The staring, stumbling morning desk clerk had told him there was a coffeeshop in the downtown area. A short walk, she’d said. Pansy had just gotten distracted. But he saw it now, a bright orange glow shining through glass windows and piercing the fog like a beacon.

Everlasting Cuppa. Naturally, not a corporate chain. Something local and hopefully good, although if any place should take coffee seriously, it should be a café in a freezing cold town known for rain. And dragons. But rain in this case.

Pansy sighed happily and opened the door to step inside. The blessed warmth of a coffee shop greeted him and he nearly opened his arms wide to hug the air currently being heated by a heating system, several coffee machines, and ooh, “A fire!”

They had a fireplace in the seating area. He loved this coffeeshop already.

The person in line in front of him turned at his exclamation, turned back, then did a doubletake.

Another one. Pansy frowned and tried to remember his reflection earlier. With his knitted beanie on, the tips of his ears hadn’t been visible. His wings were obviously hidden by his parka. He was dressed—fully dressed even. And his eyes looked dark brown at first glance.

Maybe it was his hair. Maybe this was the sort of town that hadn’t discovered how humans could vibrantly dye their hair yet.

Or maybe he looked like the pansy he was, and they would have stared even without seeing his wings. 

Pansy narrowed his eyes. Ignoring the knot of anxiety in his chest, he pulled off his beanie and shoved it in his coat pocket. Then he ruffled his silky, choppy hair and stared ahead at the display cabinets and the counter and coffee machines and the menu board above it all.

Well, he intended to stare at them, to pointedly mind his own business the way some prejudiced humans could not. Only… only the shine.

Holy shit, Pansy thought helplessly, stunned by his first glimpse behind the counter.

The human at the register was…. Pansy was no shine-chaser though he’d take it when he found it, but the human at the register was exquisite. Oh, average height and pretty as a wedding cake, all warm tones and tattoos and sensitive eyes, a meal of a human boy, no mere snack. But his shine. It filled the space around him, gray and green and brown, chilly blue and iron red. As though he’d taken Everlasting’s colors for his own and made them brighter.

But then, behind and to one side of him, his back to Pansy, was another human of absolutely radiant pale blue and pinks, at such odds with the flaming red hair that it shouldn’t have worked and yet somehow did. He wasn’t as bright but his shine was soft, so soft that Pansy wanted to reach out to pet it.

Pink-and-blue turned his head, smiling crookedly and with infinite adoration at a larger figure waiting to one side. For his drink, Pansy would have assumed if a thought could have fully formed in that moment when he looked to that man and saw… not a man.

Like glimpsing a dragon on the news and seeing more, seeing other, around it. But this was no dragon. This was… a cop.

Pansy blinked several times but the large echo of feeling, of size and strength and wild, swaying shadows, remained around the cop. The big, square-jawed sort of cop, with glasses that did not hide eyes of blazing inhuman blue when the man glanced over toward Pansy and froze.

“Darling, what the hell?” Pansy asked out loud helplessly. “I’ve heard of firebirds having something even humans can see but that’s nothing to you.” He turned to the two shiny lovelies behind the counter who were now also utterly still and staring at Pansy and not in the way he was usually stared at.

Pansy was abruptly back in grade school, one of two beings in the whole school. He nearly winced reflexively as though a dodge ball was coming his way.

Then the whatever-he-was cop said, “I’ve got to go. Sorry,” to the pink and blue one, who had enormous hazel eyes and more freckles than Pansy did. He blinked those eyes when the cop moved away, not even waiting for his coffee.

The blue eyes did not meet Pansy’s as the cop skirted around him and slipped out the door.

“Goodness,” Pansy murmured before facing the rest of the room again.

The first one at the counter, the shiniest of shinies—and oh, oh what did that mean in a town of dragons?—recovered first. “Good day to you too, Forrester,” he said, apparently to the recently departed cop.

“His drink,” the soft shiny added, almost forlorn. But his attention returned to Pansy almost immediately.

On this side of the counter, several customers were waiting either to order or for their drinks. One, an older woman with the steadiest shine Pansy had ever seen, and rather wonderfully butch, gave Pansy a short smile. Pansy beamed back at her in relief; finally, a sensible human with good taste.

Behind the counter was a doorway, presumably to an employees-only area, although a tall figure came out of the doorway and went right behind the counter to the coffee machine. A pretty young wolf, which would delight Grimsby, who hated to shift and run alone. The young wolf had a vibrant shine, as they tended to, moonlight silver, with red-gold sparks around a hole in the center.

“Oh.” Pansy knew what that meant. The precious angel was so young and had lost a mate already. But he smiled at his coworkers and took the drink he’d made himself toward the back, as if he’d just come in for that. Then he saw Pansy and stopped.

“A fairy,” he said warmly, one more sensible person in this town, and kind despite his loneliness.

Pansy fluttered forward as best as he could with his wings in their parka prison. “Does this place attract the shiny?” he asked in a bit of a daze at so much of it in one place. “Do the dragons do it? Or import them or something?”

Mentioning the dragon made the silence worse, or maybe just made Pansy notice it for the first time as some of his dazzled senses began to calm down.

He faced the meal at the register, who cleared his throat and said, “Sorry,” in a low voice. “I just don’t think a fairy has ever been in Everlasting before.”

“And I’m the first!” Pansy was delighted, if a little trepidatious. He tossed his head to show his hair to best effect, that it would matter to this one. Now that Pansy was closer, it was clear that this one, and the other shiny for that matter, had the stamp of claims on them. Their hearts might be open to many things, but they were deeply loved, and by something powerful. Somethings, Pansy supposed, unless Zarrin Xu or the other dragons of Everlasting were hoarding people.

Ah. He glanced to the rabbit-soft human. The mysterious cop who had made him smile.

“That’s all right,” he offered in return, a little too late to pretend he hadn’t also been staring at them. “I’ve never seen so much shine in one place outside of the May Day fest in Madera when all the fairies gather to welcome spring.”

“I thought you were an elf at first,” Rabbit-soft volunteered. “But I’ve only seen one with, uh, I was going to say dyed, but you know, the colored hair.”

Pansy nearly shimmied for him. “Sweetness, your hair has color too. Flames to put a fairy to shame.” Rabbit-soft blushed too, a dark pink that Pansy could probably get darker if he tried. But he took pity. “My wings are under my coat. Your town has been lovely so far but so cold.” He shivered dramatically.

“Is that why?” The fantastic butch wondered. “Why fairies never come here?” she elaborated. “We did used to wonder. Unless it was the dragons keeping you out.”

Pansy shrugged. “I’d imagine dragons are indifferent to fairies, unless they think of them the way so many humans do.” He dragged that out at the end, letting them all think about the reputation that fairies had because he should have some fun in this town if they weren’t going to kill him or hurt him or run him out on a rail. “Tell me,” he leaned in toward her and batted his eyelashes, “what are the best sweet treats here for me? And where in town can I get a good, big breakfast to go for a friend of mine?” He glanced down to her sensible shoes and cuffed jeans and then back up. “And where’s the hardware store so I can get heat packs to put in my shoes and my gloves? Help me, gorgeous. I’m freezing.”

Her snorted laugh seemed to surprise even her. But then she pointed behind her. “Down the street that way. For the hardware store. Bold, aren’t you?”

She loved him. Pansy knew it. “The name is Pansy, oh love of my life. And when your name is Pansy, then a pansy you shall be.”

She cackled, and—be still Pansy’s heart—the pretty human at the register cracked a smile too. It was only for a second, but Pansy had seen it and his wings did their best to flutter despite himself.

“You could explore the park,” he suggested, “you and your friend. It’s open to the public.” He inched back and briefly seemed worried. “But we should probably tell Zarrin first.”

So he knew the dragon from the news. Perhaps that was the dragon who loved him so. That was good. Anyone going through what that dragon was going through should have a shiny, loyal pretty to cling to.

“I’m not a hiker really, not a serious one. I am more the kind to walk around to look at the view and maybe have a picnic. But my friend is, and I’ll pass that along, unless you think we’ll step on some toes. And ah, your sweetest, hottest, largest latte please. I’m not picky. Just cold.”

He gave the tip of his nose a furtive little rub to help warm it faster.

“I’m used to snow,” volunteered the young wolf, “but there’s something about rain that can make the air feel colder.”

“Are you staying in Everlasting long?” Rabbit-soft jumped in. None of the employees had nametags. It was the first time Pansy had ever thought employees should, just so he could meet them all properly.

“As long as it takes,” Pansy answered. “That sounds too mysterious. As long as we feel like, I should say. Until we get bored, probably.”

“Oh good. Jessie would be bummed if she didn’t get to meet you,” Rabbit-soft explained.

“Martin,” sighed the golden-warm one who named dragons freely, “he’s not an exhibit.”

“What?” Martin turned to Pansy guiltily. “Oh no, sorry. It’s just she loves out-of-towners. Especially the cool ones. Although you’re hot, so she’ll probably also…” He stopped, closed his mouth, and began to turn pink again. “That is, I mean,” he glanced to his coworker, then down. “You’re hot,” he said at last.

“Darling.” Pansy meant it. “In another life, I would take you out back and blow your… mind… for that compliment. But I’m not taking this parka off now for anybody. Anyway, you’ve got a big Taken sign all over you.” The pink grew darker. If this town was full of people like him, Pansy was going to have a treat of a time here. “Don’t worry. I’m only teasing. I’m no threat to your dragon.”

“My dragon?” Martin echoed, strangled.  

“Or whatever,” Pansy replied, slowly and thoughtfully.  

Perhaps to distract him, the one from the register moved around Martin to go to the espresso machine to make Pansy’s latte.

Pansy glanced around the room, full of somewhat tense, shiny people, all of whom had gone suspiciously silent again. This town was the perfect setting for a mystery. He had known it from the first second he’d heard the name. And now, having met some of them, in the little coffeeshop the locals loved, radiant with shine and happiness, he knew this town was also the perfect place to set a romance.

Oh he was going to get so much inspiration and have so much fun. Grimsby should never doubt him.

“Thank you.” No one had charged him but he put cash down by the register and stepped over to get his drink, which he held in his hands without putting the lid on it, so it would warm his fingers and cool enough to be sippable.

“Keep asking Ralph to let us try lavender simple syrup,” his wonderful server informed him, sweetly gruff, “but we don’t have it now. But that’s the French vanilla, with no artificial sweeteners. The weres,” he glanced back to the young wolf who hadn’t left, “apparently can taste the fake flavoring. So we have these now. I don’t know that I taste the difference but then, they do also taste better somehow.”

“This is the coffeeshop to go to, I can tell.” Pansy inhaled vanilla again appreciatively.

A chime rang out as a new customer walked in.

“I don’t know what has Forrester in a mood,” someone declared in a calm but very amused tone, “but he came tearing into the station without his usual coffee in hand. So I figured I’d get it for him for the sake of everyone in his sarcasm blast radius and maybe treat myself at the same time. It’s Tuesday,” the calmly amused person added, “Treat Yourself Tuesday is a thing. I’ve just decided.”

He seemed almost merry. Pansy turned, half expecting to see an elf or the sort of roly-poly older human man who delighted in telling silly jokes to strangers. But it wasn’t either. It was another cop. Human, certainly, and smaller than the other, inhuman one. He had a ruddy brown complexion and dark eyes. Average height for a human man. Regular-looking in nearly every way.

But his colors.

His colors.

The ringing, crystal clear, mountain spring purity of them, even as they melded and merged and moved together around him. They were not a shining beacon. Not overwhelmingly bright like the others here but clear. Blue and gray and white, all of them so astonishingly distinct and clear that it was as if a light was coming from behind him. As though he was a beam of light that only Pansy could see.

His wings struggled against the parka.

Pansy stumbled clumsily forward.

The man’s eyes fixed on him with obvious surprise, his gaze drifting up toward Pansy’s hair with a little blink, then falling to one of his ears and the chain cuffs Pansy wore since ear-piercing was impossible.

The man put his head back, then glanced away from Pansy to the others before looking at Pansy again. “A fairy in Everlasting? Well, the times they are a’changin’.”  

Pansy couldn’t seem to manage a darling. “Apparently, I was meant to come here.”

“Really?” asked the human politely. “Well of course you’d come right in here. It’s a popular place.” He didn’t say, for beings, but Pansy thought he heard it. “Welcoming,” the man added with a smile. “And the best coffee. So you’ll probably be a regular soon like everyone else. Excuse me.” He was polite about that too, stepping around Pansy to get to the counter.

As if Pansy weren’t pretty. As if Pansy weren’t the handsomest, most gorgeous creature he’d ever seen.

Pansy slowly turned on his heel to stare at the clear, pure colors of his happiness who didn’t even look back at him.

Then the young wolf was suddenly next to him, leading him to the table where he could add more sugar to his coffee if he wanted or grab a lid. The wolf grabbed the lid for him. “I’d say get it for here, but Schmitty is going to get his to go.”

“Schmitty,” Pansy echoed. Schmitty. Like some sort of old-timey newspaperman’s name. It was horrible how charming that might be.

“It might not be that bad,” the wolf said, as soft as his rabbity coworker, the wolf who’d lost his mate—or perhaps not. “Sometimes, you have to wait a while. That’s all.”

“Wait a while?” Pansy was not the wolf here and yet he howled.

He glanced over, everyone in the coffeeshop, including Schmitty, had turned to stare at him.

“Sweetness,” he said, to the wolf, or the treasure behind the counter, or the butch queen, or the pink and blue bunny, or to Schmitty, perfectly average and perfectly devastating, “what even is this town?”

[superheroauthor]

Dragons, Magic and other Things

Chapter One – Disbelief and Insanity

   It was a very beautiful box.

   The man in the junk shop said all the precious stones on the box were fakes, the metal was not gold but it was still a pretty thing. So pretty it would cost me thirty-five pounds.

   I was a regular in here and in most of the junk shops around. Sometimes for books, sometimes for other stuff.

   The box was truly adorable. It was like a small golden chest, about eight inches by five, with golden hinges. Inside it was lined with some black stone like obsidian. Around the outside of the box it was decorated by a line a of blue stones like sapphires and on the top was a single huge ruby.

   Not that the stones were real gemstones nor the box made of gold. If it was, it would have hallmarks for the gold.

   I thought it would make a very nice cigarette box or just an ornament. The price though was high. This was a junkshop, not an antique shop.

   “Twenty.”

   “Thirty-five.” From the owner who obviously had no idea about haggling.

   “Thirty.” I replied, hoping. I did not have too much spare cash.

   “Done!” Oh, just a little give from him but not a lot.

   It was a chunk of my money but it was a very desirable thing, in my opinion anyway.

   I took it home, put my cigarettes in it and placed it on an occasional table near my armchair. The table was fake too, made to look like something from Victorian times. It had a map under glass.

   I went to make myself a pot of coffee.

   When I came back smoke was issuing from the closed sides of the box. Surely, I would not have put a lit cigarette in there. Even I was not that daft.

   I thrust open the box to find within a tiny little creature. Something so small it could have fitted on the palm of my hand.

   It was as blue as sapphire with eyes as red as rubies. It’s snout and belly were black. It looked like a tiny toy dragon . . . until it moved and yawned.

   “Ah, slave, fetch me some meat.”

   I heard the words but could not tell from where? The tiny dragon was moving around the confines of the box. It flexed and two gorgeous tiny wings slid from its back and lifted. The tiny blue scales on its body looked iridescent as it moved.

   “Food, slave.”

   I looked around the room but could not see who was speaking.

   To be honest, I was questioning my sanity. You do when you find a miniscule dragon in a box that should have contained cigarettes. I was tempted to close the box and open it again, hoping to only find ciggies.

   You see when I was in my twenties I got a huge bout of nerves. It was so bad I had to be confined in a mental hospital for my own good. Just for a month. Not sectioned you understand, I went in voluntarily, as I was frightened of everybody and everything.

   When I came out not much had changed. Lots of new medicinal tablets to hate and me never working again.

   The dragon was staring at me when I came out of reverie.

   “I want meat.”

   I knew I was imagining this. True, I had never had voices before, never had hallucinations. However, when you see a tiny dragon in a box and hear someone talking to you and you cannot see them, you just know it did does not bode well.

   I thought I had just stepped into a psychotic episode.

   “Down here. I am talking. The most glorious dragon you have ever seen. Meat.”

   I just laughed. So, it was not the voices that were getting to me. However, it was an hallucination instead. That did not make it any better.

   I laughed and somehow the laugh came out twisted. It sounded hollow and not convincing at all.

   I took a cigarette from my packet.

   “Light this and I will believe you are there.” I told the imaginary dragon. I pushed my face close to it, the cigarette dangling from my mouth.

   A burst of smoke from its snout that did not light my ciggy but did shock me. Then a tiny little flame, long and thin. I inhaled and the cigarette was lit and sweet smoke was drifting into my lungs.

   I did not always smoke tailor-mades. Normally I smoked roll-ups. Rolled my own, so to speak. Real cigarettes were my luxury item.

   I got a lot of benefits. It seemed like they did not want me to go back to hospital as that was very costly for them. So they gave me benefits and occasional help instead.

   Three trips to the mental hospital I had undergone and me now thirty-five.

   I took a pull of my cigarette.

   “Prove you are real.” I challenged the tiny dragon, putting a hand out for it to climb onto. However, it seemed to like the box and ignored my hand.

   “Of course, I am real. Dragons are the greatest creatures in the world. The most intelligent, wise and the most fearsome.”

   Ah! Not voices in my head. Telepathy!

   The dragon could talk to me using telepathy. I considered this for a second.

   ‘I am mentally ill. You know, cuckoo! Understand? I cannot judge what you are.’ I did not say this, I thought it.

   I knew enough though about manic depressives and schizophrenics that what they heard, and saw, they believed. At the start of a psychotic break, they believed their voices, they believed the strangest things. It was not their fault. It was the fault of their illness.

   I saw a movement. Those tiny wings were flapping, unfolding getting bigger. The dragon rose from the box. It was above my hand now, not really flying, just hovering. Its tiny burst of thin flame came out and burnt my hand. The wings flapped less and the creature slowly lowered itself back into the box.

   I looked at my hand. Sure enough, there was a scorch mark on it. Pain gripped me. This was the dragon’s way of showing me it was real.

   My other hand darted in and grabbed the dragon in my fist.

   “As I do not believe in you, I could crush you to bits and not worry for a second.” I told the dragon who I thought was an hallucination.

   The tiny creature wriggled and squirmed but could not escape my grip.

   “And where are my cigarettes? I look forward to real cigarettes every week. They have gone and now you are here. I would rather have my cigarettes back.”

   I would too. Cigarettes, real tailor-made cigarettes, those I could believe in.

   “There has to be an exchange, even in a magic box.” The tiny squirming creature told me. “Now feed me meat.”

   “Not doing yourself any favours here, tiny one. All I know is I am missing cigarettes.” I took a drag of the one in my mouth, holding it with the hand that got scorched. I let the dragon go. “I will shut the box and check in five minutes and there had better be cigarettes in there. You, I don’t care about. The cigarettes I do.”

   I felt silly for talking to my hallucination but, as I told the kettle off if it did not boil quick enough, it was not too bad. I shut the lid of the box.

   I sat with my coffee and cigarette. I did not try to work this out. It was scary. I did not want this to be the start of a psychotic episode. That could mean hospital. That would mean being scared out of my mind by everybody and everything.

   It could mean me feeling suicidal again . . . the worse feeling in the world.

   All you see is darkness, no choices, no way out, just death . . . and that was what you wanted. It was not ‘let’s hope someone catches me’. It was ‘let’s hope someone don’t’. It was ‘let me die and so I never have to feel like this again’.

   “You don’t have to feel like that.”

   “Shut up!” I replied to the voice in my head

   “I can change your life.”

   “I can put you in the microwave. You won’t like that one bit.”

   “You get me meat and I will get you cigarettes!” That got my interest.

   “How?”

   “Magic. All dragons use magic, all dragons are magic. Why did I have to be cursed with getting an idiot?”

   “I really want to watch you go around and around in the microwave and then explode.” I told the horrible little beast that was ruining my sanity.

   It was a bluff of course. I would not do that, even to my hallucinations.

   “I think I have a solution.” The dragon said, its words coming out slow and deliberate from inside the box. Not that mattered as they were telepathic anyway.

   If you can see someone or something speaks you are much more likely to believe them than if you cannot see them communicate. Telepathy was making this harder to believe, not easier.

   “If I am correct when people enter psychosis, even at the beginning of this happening, they totally believe what is occurring around them. You however doubt me, do you not? Do you not see this as a good sign?”

   It took my mind a bit of time to get around its words. They were not the plainest of speech.

   “If you give yourself over to believing in me for a day, I think I can convince you I am real.”

   “You are right about psychosis. Some mentally ill people seem to find nothing wrong with the idea that the radio is talking to them. Voices can be a different matter. Sometimes they believe that they are true, other times it is a warning to them they are getting ill. It depends on how many times they have had the voices before. Some people live with voices all their lives.” I was giving the tiny dragon the benefit of my knowledge. “Medication can, with some people, totally wipe out the voices so them returning is warning they need more medication or they have other problems that need attending to.”

   A wisp of smoke came from the box. I think the dragon was getting impatient.

   “Based on the fact that I normally don’t have hallucinations of any kind, not voices or seeing things that aren’t there, I will believe in you for now and see what happens.”

   “Good! Get me some meat!”

   What a stroppy little dragon he was.

   “Get your own. There is no meat in the flat. I eat microwave meals. I do not properly cook for myself. It is just too much hassle. For one person, it just ain’t worth it.”

   “But what about my meat?” It sounded affronted. I get the idea dragons thought of humans as their slaves or at least as their minions. “Can we at least go to a market? I can get my own meat there.”

   “A supermarket, yes.”

   So it was, with the dragon in my pocket, we set out for the supermarket.

   “Can other people see you?” I asked, not as speech but as thought directed at my dragon.

   “No, only you. I am yours and you belong to me.”

   I put my hand in my pocket and grabbed it and took it out. I then released it. It stretched its wings and hovered beside me. It was half hovering and half a beautiful dance of flight.

   I was not big and people tended to try and crowd me on the pavement. I am short and fat and balding. Usually, I just stared at them and they parted to let me through. People hate it when you look them straight in their eyes. They put their heads down and get out of your way.

   When really ill I have been known to growl at people. A guttural sound that parts the people quick smart. When less ill I sometime fake that growl as it works so well.

   No-one was paying any attention to the dragon bobbing here and there in its flight. Not until a child stopped dead in his tracks. A little boy about eight.

   “Mummy. There is a dragon! Just there, Mummy.”

   “Yes dear. Now we got to get on or we will miss our bus.” The mother replied dutifully.

   The dragon replied before I had a chance to ask.

   “Children can see me. Children still believe in all the mythical creatures. The werewolves, the dragons, the unicorns, goblins and leprechauns, even witches and wizards. As they believe so whole heartedly, they can see me.”

   It had the ring of truth. Everyone else did not seem to be able to see the tiny dragon.

   “What sort of dragon are you?” I asked in my head.

   “I am a female dragon of the type draco-venator. That is a hunter dragon is your terms. My name in your terms would be Ultra.”

   I tried not to laugh, not even in my head. I could not see this dragon, this three-inch-long creature, hunting anything except for maybe spiders and flies.

   We went into the supermarket. ‘Just as I told you in the house’ I thought to Ultra the dragon.

   I went to the pre-packed meat. ‘Can you read?’ I thought.

   ‘I am a dragon, I can do anything.’ If that is what she said then she could work out what meats were in what packs.

   I bought two cheap packs of meat. Not for me but for her. Pigs’ liver which was just over a quid for a decent sized pack and kidneys about the same price. I was not made of money and both meats had a strong taste so I thought Ultra would like them.

   I then went to the delicatessen where there were cooked meats. I liked the meat just not the prices and so left to pay for my purchases. I heard a commotion behind me but did not turn around. I went to the self-service counter as I always did, swiped my meat through and paid with a fiver and got change. I then left the supermarket.

   I waited outside. Most of my real cigarettes, the tailor-made ones had vanished from inside that box but I had a couple left. Buy a pack on Thursday and smoke one or two good ones a day and the rest in roll-ups. That was always my plan. Trouble is, it never worked. I had smoked all the good ones by Sunday if not before.

   I lit one of the remaining tailor-mades. I was outside and had to reward myself. I did not get out as much as I should do.

   I then saw a carton of cigarettes floating towards me. It was being carried somehow by that three-inch dragon. It was hovering above the long pack with its tiny little claws gripped into it.

   No-one seem to notice the dragon. For some reason they did not seem to notice the flying carton of cigarettes either.

   It flew to me and I put out a hand and the carton dropped into my hand. These were not bad cigarettes at all. Not the strong ones that hurt my throat, or the cheap ones that made me cough. Actually, I did smoke cheap cigarettes just not some brands. This was a good one though, like my own brand, strong and smooth together.

   I saw the dragon glide ahead of me. Did she have a paunch? It looked like she had a belly hanging down.

   “Did you eat enough, too much maybe?”

   “I ate and ate and ate and then people were staring at me. They could actually see me. Most turned away or rubbed their eyes. By the time they leave the market they won’t believe me anymore. They will think it was a trick of the light or something. BURP. Ah, that’s better.”

   “And the cameras? CCTV? You made people look in there, you caused a commotion. The cameras would have zoomed in on you.”

   “They are false eyes. They have no chance of seeing me. I am a magic creature and they are technology. The two don’t mix.” She flew down and drifted into my pocket.

   I am sure she made no sound but, in my head, I could hear little snores.

   The dragon had eaten her fill and now was sleeping it off.

   It was a baby dragon after all!

   At least I thought it was.

   We got home and I oh so gently took the curled-up dragon out of my pocket and put it in her box and closed the lid. She fit so easily it was hard to think this really was a dragon.

   I felt a bit bad about the cigarettes. Even as I ripped open the carton and opened up one of the packs, I felt wrong. It was theft plain and simple, I thought to myself as I lit one of the cigarettes.

   I am had to admit Generic cigarettes were not too bad. Yes, that was their name, Generic. I had taken enough generic medications to know they were not all bad. The taste was smooth though without them being low tar or mild cigarettes. You know the ones. You end up smoking three of them for every normal one. And still, you cannot get a good drag out of any of them.

   I knew it was the dragon that stole them but it did not make me feel any better. On the other hand, I could not go back and say my tiny pet dragon stole a carton of your cigarettes. They would have me sectioned and me in the madhouse in ten seconds flat.

   I would do more shopping there. It was the only thing I could do.

   What did I do all day as I did not work ?

   I kept busy. If I kept my mind busy, I did not worry about my problems. I did not have imaginary conversations with my doctor about what he would ask at my next appointment. Or with my psychiatrist, not that I was likely to see her for a while.

   These days you only saw psychiatrists when you were in crisis, psychosis. In the old days, not so long ago, you had a team to help you. A psychiatrist, a psychiatric social worker and maybe a community support worker. I had all three just ten years ago. I even went to a day centre three times a week and passed time with the other mentally ill. Sometimes, I even had a psychologist.

   After the financial collapse though everything changed. The councils were not getting the money they did before. They cut all the mentally ill services. Now I did not get any of that, unless I was in crisis.

   So, I kept busy. That way, the only time I was left with my thoughts was as I lay down to sleep. Hence my insomnia.

   I was going to watch some DVDs. I had an awful lot of DVDs. I bought them second-hand or when the prices were right, when they were on sale. I had been watching ‘I, Claudius’. I preferred boxsets and series to films as they took up more of my time. My thoughts on buying DVDs was a pound an hour. If a series was twelve hours long it must be twelve pound or under. As long as I was patient, I found the things I wanted. I could not buy any of the really new stuff. I had to wait until it came down in price.

   So, I had been watching ‘I, Claudius’ and now was going to watch Game of Thrones. I had found it in a sale online, five series for a very good price. The fact that was eight series of it now probably knocked that boxset down in price.

   Why Game of Thrones?

   I wanted something with dragons in it. After all I had a pet baby dragon. Better find out how to care for it. At least I think it was a pet.

   I sat and watched my series. Still the dragon did not awake. Two hours went by and I needed something else. So, it was time for my console. I had all the gadgets you see. All bought as reconditioned. Even my Christmas presents to myself were reconditioned. Why pay top dollar when you can get the same that has been pre-owned?

   I had a PS4 but I fancied something different so I played on my old Xbox 360. A console that had given me hours, days, months and years of pleasure. An old game but an excellent one, Crackdown. I did not much like Crackdown 2 but I did love the original.

   A tip for you. When you are depressed and can see nothing ahead, get out your console and play a shoot ‘em up. It does not solve the depression but it really lets off steam, gives you something to do and takes up oodles of time. Better that than thinking dark thoughts.

   I was just starting, so was getting beaten up a lot. I had played this game many times before though and knew soon I would be a force to be reckoned with. I carried on battling, having a smoke after each two of my deaths. I was just getting close to the boss in a night club or something like when I heard a muttering. I turned to look at the box and got hit by ten different opponents.

   My first boss that I had been close to and I had just got snuffed.

   “Meat!” I heard in a whisper in my mind.

   “You just had meat and after it you slept for . . .” I consulted the clock. “. . . for near enough four hours.” I said out loud.

   “I am just a baby. I need feeding up.” Came a whine in my head.

   I went to the kitchen and got out a pack of meat from the fridge. I had no idea how much meat this dragon could eat or should eat for that matter. I sliced open the plastic and slapped a piece of pigs’ liver on a small plate. It was about two inches long and about an inch wide. Near enough the size of the dragon. That should be enough.

   I put the plate on the window sill and opened the box. The miniscule dragon gave the most adorable yawn, little curls of smoke coming from its nostrils.

   “It is by the window. If you cook the meat, don’t break the plate.”

   However, it did not seem as if this time she wanted cooked meat. She flew up and quickly to the sill. I had never seen her dart like that in flight before. Normally it was a lazy hover.

   She started to bite at the meat, never stopping.

   “Good meat human. I prefer sheep though.”

   “You cannot get mutton anymore.” I told her. I used to have mutton in a curry occasionally. “And lamb’s liver is not the same taste at all in comparison to chunks of real lamb. I do love the taste of lamb but can never be bothered to cook it.”

   “You are right about liver. This is good strong meat, human.”

   “I did not see lamb’s heart or even pig’s. I will check for those next time. As long as they are not too pricy. Maybe even brawn. Beef brawn would be perfect for you. A nice bit of brain meat. You see, I was bought up poor but my mother knew all the cuts of meat and what to do with them. So, we used to eat offal as it was cheap. Kidneys, brawn, heart, liver. Liver and bacon is one of the best meals there is.”

   The dragon looked up from her food.

   “Tim, how do you make this liver and bacon?”

   “I like to keep it simple. Some people like to add onions and other stuff but that just takes away the taste of the meat. I think liver is too strong for some people. So, with me, it is just liver and bacon. You fry the bacon but do not crisp it. That leaves fat in the pan and you brown the liver in that. You then cut up the liver and bacon but not too much. You need good sized chunks for taste. You add a thick gravy. Granules does it well but use a lot to make it thick. Throw all that in a casserole dish and let it cook. Let it cook until the liver is just breaking down and adding taste to the gravy.”

   I saw the tiniest of tongues come out wrap around a snout and dart back in.

   “Does not need the gravy.” Came the voice in my head.

   “Oh, it does. You do not have to serve it with the gravy for growing dragons but otherwise the meat will be too dry. For me I add half a tin of new potatoes cooked in the microwave. I hate cooking. So much work and so much washing up. I used to cook some years ago. Not so much now.”

   “You will cook this liver and bacon for me.” The dragon told me, more as an order than a request. I tried not to smile in my head.

   “No bacon and not a lot of money. Most of it went on the . . .”

   The dragon had gone.

   It had not flown out of the room. It had not walked on the threadbare carpet that really needed changing. It was just gone.

   Nor for long though. A minute later it appeared with a big pack of bacon clutched to its claws underneath it.

   I looked at the pack as it was dropped into my hands. I saw something without really looking at it.

   “The expiry date is three years ago. I know they cheat on those dates and I will eat stuff a week out of date. Three years for fresh meat is too long though.”

   “It is fresh.”

   “It cannot be fresh.” I tried to be patient, it was only a baby after all and might not know much about the world. “They stamp these on every pack . . .”

   Maybe it was me. I might have got it wrong. I mean it would be impossible to get ahold of bacon three years out of date. I got my reading glasses and rechecked it. “No, it is there. This is bacon. It would kill me to eat this.”

   It did not look mouldy or old. Just vacuum-sealed in its plastic pack.

   “I went back in time, grabbed some bacon and gave it to you. Tim, you should accept gifts more graciously.”

   “I don’t like people giving me things. It makes me . . . hey! Went back in time? That is not possible.”

   “Of course it is possible. Get your fry pan out.”

   Wearily, of the tiny dragon with the big mouth, or snout if you like, I went into the kitchen. It flew after me and landed on a surface.

   I tried to explain to the dragon about time travel. After all it was only a baby, it needed to learn new stuff.

   “If you change things in the past, you will affect the future. One person dying in the past could wreck the future. Think if Churchill’s grandfather had an early death because of someone changing time. Not just a death but anything. The slightest thing could ripple through time and change anything. Marrying the grandmother of Arthur Wellesley instead of another could mean Lord Wellington was not born.” I told the dragon as I got out the frying pan and put it on the stove. I trusted the dragon as I sliced open the plastic and the put rasher after rasher into the large frying pan.

   As that was cooking, I boiled the kettle and got my gravy granules down and a casserole dish. Back to the pan to turn over the bacon. Pour hot water into the dish and then put dessert spoons of granules in and whisked them in with a fork. Soon there was a thick gravy. Back to the frying pan to turn the bacon for the last time.

   The dragon’s snout was going into overtime twitching away at the gorgeous smell of bacon cooking.

   “Paradox.” I said as I moved the cooked bacon onto a plate and put the oven on to preheat. “Won’t killing humans from the past result in paradox? The old theme of ‘if you kill your grandfather in the past, you longer exist’?”

   “Nonsense. Time is not a straight line. It is like a web that reforms when a line is broken. Your grandfather dies and you get a new grandfather, usually a male who was not going to produce offspring. Time looks after itself. It is not the constant humans think it is. After all it is mainly a concept so humans know when to have their dinner. And speaking of dinner . . .”

   It watched avidly as I cut the liver and threw it into the frying pan making spots of fat fly out.

   “Go find yourself a nice virgin that has to be sacrificed.” I said and then sniggered at my own joke.

   “Dragons do not like to eat virgins.” Ultra the baby dragon was sounded miffed, as if it were about to have a temper tantrum. “Devils like virgin sacrifice, that is where all that came from. An adult dragon can live off one cow a month and one adult human every year.”

   “So why the thing about virgins and dragons.” I turned the meat which was frying nicely in the bacon fat.

   “Think, if you were the chief of a village or even the witchdoctor, how can you make sure you are not the sacrifice. Make it a virgin. Better still, make it a virgin female. You are safe that way.”

   I did like that sort of thinking. An elegant solution, as long as you were not a female virgin.

   Did I see drool coming from her snout? I must be mistaken. I was only cooking meat which was now chopped and seared. That went into the casserole dish. The bacon was slightly cooler but still singed my fingers as I chopped it up and threw it in the dish. Except a little bit for me. And another morsel that I held out in my fingertips.

   “You cannot hand feed a dragon like a pet.” I was informed but as I went to eat it the dragon swooped in and snatched it with its mouth and gobbled it up.

   That was the power of fresh cooked bacon!

   The dish went into the oven. No point in washing the other things up yet. I would also have to wash the plate I ate off, the casserole dish and my knife and fork.

   I would do all the washing up together. Or not, as the case might be.

   I was a world class procrastinator.

   The baby dragon was staring at the cooker. I could not help but laugh.

   “An hour before that is ready. You got to have the liver breaking down into the gravy, to give that taste too. You have meat in the living room.”

   A last long look at the oven and the dragon flew into the hall. It was already at the window sill and eating its piece of liver when I entered the living room.

   “You really lucked out getting me as an owner . . . um . . . I mean as your human.” I said sarcastically. “I am ga-ga. I don’t like going out and am afraid of everything. Sometimes at night I do actually jump at my shadow when the light hits it just right.”

   I think the dragon was trying to eat her bodyweight in raw liver as it was nearly all gone.

   “If you been dragon sized, that would be different. I would not be afraid out there with a twenty-foot dragon at my side. Instead, I get a baby dragon. So, I have feed it, burp it and change its nappy.”

   It did not actually have a nappy. I wondered what dragon shit would look like. Would it be like hamsters’ droppings or would dragon shit gold as I had read of in some of my books. If so, I hoped it would shit its bodyweight as well as eating the same in meat.

   “Dragons do not defecate. We burn up the waste products in making magic.”

   “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You got lucky. See my back. See those yellow lines. Those are my yellow streaks. Pure cowardice. I never fight. Don’t know how.”

   “So?”

   “So, any notion you got of me riding you into some mystical battle? That ain’t happening.”

   “Is the food BURP ready yet?” Ultra asked of me.

© COPYRIGHT Michael Sheppard 2024

reblog for next chapter

[nowiamcoveredinyou]

Lamp

Loki x reader

Word count:- 227

30 days writing challenge

Y/n had this beautiful lamp shop near her house. She used to visit it everyday, the design, the patterns everything fascinated her. But mostly one, an antique one. She wished if she could afford it and feared one day someone will take it away.

This day as well she went inside to check the beautiful lamp, as she was about to touch the lamp a heavy and rather sexy voice said from behind,

"do you even know how old that is".

She was startled, turning to him she found it's her friend, a very annoying one, "oh Loki!" she sighed, "you scared me, you moron".

"I did no?" he said taking the lamp in hand, "well it does look antique and is rather expensive for you".

Y/n rolled her eyes at his comment, "ofcourse, I'm no princess, but you're a prince and you are fucking rich, done now?"

"mmm not yet" saying so he went away, later he came with the lamp in his hand, packed and handed it to her,

"here".

"I don't understand" she was confused with this gesture, "I understand you're rich but you don't have to buy me anything".

"it's a gift for you."

At him insisting her, she couldn't refuse but took it, "thank you, prince".

"welcome, would be princess" he smirked leaving her to this epiphany that he just proposed her.

[sofarfarout]

experiment start

Full Name: Clockwise the Artificer

Goes by: Clockwise

Nicknames/Aliases: old man(by Cold Steel), Rustbucket(by Cold Steel)

Gender: male

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality: asexual

Marital status: single, not interested

Age: 53

Birthday: April 14th

Species: born an earth pony, mechanical augmentation makes him functionally an alicorn

Occupation: artificer

Past occupations: horologist and clockmaker

Alignment: Lawful Good

Family: Greasemonkey(father, deceased at age 49), Chug-a-long(mother, deceased at age 74), Nitty Gritty(younger sibling, age 48), Mila Minute(younger sister, age 41)

Relationship with family

Greasemonkey: died when Clockwise was a young adult in an accident at work, they were close and enjoyed messing around with machines and trinkets together

C: "Father was always a busy stallion. Always working, whether it was in his shop or at the factory. He saw beauty in machinery and I'm always grateful to him for sharing that with me."

Chug-a-long: was close with his mother and especially liked riding the train with her, had a shared love for mathematics

C: "Mother and I often enjoyed doing puzzles together. She was very adept at sudoku and while I wasn't bad myself, I was never as fast as her. She told me that numbers simply made sense to her. They were absolutes and did not change. That stick with me for whatever reason."

Nitty Gritty: were never that close but don't really have bad blood either, just went about their lives separately, envy each other's abilities

C: "My sibling and I are near polar opposites. They are a wonderful artist, seeing the world in all these...fantastical hues. Their work is something to behold. I, on the other hoof, seem to lack that color."

Mila Minute: was once very close with his sister but has grown increasingly distant over time, Mila no longer associates with him

C: "..."

Other relationships

Cold Steel: former student that grew disillusioned with his mentor's ideals, believed his views to be naive and childish

CS: "Holier-than-thou? No. But I am holier than you, old man."

Distinguishing physical features

-gangly build, mostly legs with a slim torso

-about half his body is composed of brass augmentations

-very large ears, comparable to a donkey or mule

-tears in left ear

-straight profile, face is neither dished nor aquiline

-eyes are sharp, almost diamond shaped

Cutie Mark: a large gear shaped clock with a smaller gear to the side

Special talent: tinkering, specializes in industrial revolution era technology

How he got it: repaired his family's most prized heirloom, a 17th century pendulum clock, got his mark later than most at age 14

Personality: brilliant, cautious, contemplative, eloquent, empathetic, enigmatic, gentle, idealistic, indecisive, kind, logical, mawkish, meticulous, nervous, passionate, passive, private, reclusive, selfless, unassertive, warm-hearted, wise

Greatest Strength: sensitivity and kindness

Fatal Flaw: difficulty opening up about his own struggles, prone to isolating himself and dealing with his troubles alone

Likes: meditation, math, crabapple jam, antiques, birds(especially owls), tidying up his workshop, hot chocolate, foals, harps, tinkering, whistling

Dislikes: public speaking, being rushed, the smell of gasoline, smartphones, being called a robot, arguing/debate, gardening, sports, heavy metal music, thunderstorms, dirty jokes

Fears: death, clowns, failure

Clockwise is a brilliant artificer working selflessly to unify flesh, metal and the arcane to improve the lives of all creatures in Equestria. He's very passionate about his life's work and spends most of his days tinkering away in his underground workshop. Being rather shy and a workaholic, Clockwise doesn't get out much and is prone to isolating himself and unintentionally pushing others out. Despite this, he's quite sensitive to the plight of others and will not hesitate to use his inventions to help another. He's something of a bleeding heart despite what his metallic body may suggest. This has come back to bite him more than once, most notably with his former apprentice, Cold Steel. A young Cold Steel had come across the fantastic brass pony one day and begged to be taken under his wing, though Clockwise didn't need much convincing after assessing the colt's talent. For years, Steel studied dutifully under Clockwise, eager to learn as much as he could, until Steel's bitterness and anger overtook him. Cold Steel believed his mentor had gone soft and grew to find his ideals and beliefs antiquated. After a heated, though one-sided argument, Steel left his mentor behind, never to return.

Any questions or additional information you want me to add? Don't hesitate to comment!

Bases- box-of-ideas on dA

[lollipencil]

In The Pale Moonlight: Part 4

Ok, I can't really think of any great full scenes right now for this one, so we're bouncing around the timeline this time around. @harleyification, let's do some introductions! Enjoy and be gentle

---

(Commissioner Gordon (Marc)) A faint drizzle dotted the figure on the GCPD rooftop. Commissioner Gordon stood next to the lit Bat-Signal, looking up at the shape it cast into the ever-present clouds. Sometimes, he swore he could see that light in his dreams.

The familar sound of an ever so slight rustle was his cue. "Batman, Poison Ivy's been acting up again near Ace Chemicals," Commissoner Gordon began as he turned to face his friend, "She's been-"

The Commissioner stared. Blinked as if to dispel what he saw. Standing next to Batman, carefully watching Robin as he cartwheeled about the rooftop, was a caped mummy only a head taller than Robin himself. "Commissioner?" Batman asked, as if he couldn't tell what the problem was. "Is that another kid?" Gordon hissed, pointing at the trick or treater. "This is Moon Knight," Batman introduced, "He and his brothers will be assisting us from now on." "There's more of them?!"

---

(Damian Wayne (Steven))

Damian was polishing one of his knifes when a knock came on his bedroom door. Silently he slipt the knife up his sleeve, ready to deploy at a moment's notice, and opened the door. One of Father's "children" was standing there, thankfully not Drake. Damian had not interacted much with this one, Spector he'd heard his name was. Although, curiosly, they had personally been introduced as "the Triplets".

"Hello Damian," he greeted, his accent and expression far different than before, "Do you have anything planned for today?" "Why do you ask?" Damian kept his guard up. "There's a travelling exhibit at the Gotham Museum of Antiquities," Spector elaborated, "It's on ancient weapons. I'm going, and thought I'd extend an invitation."

"Tt, Mother taught me of many cultures' weaponry." "Yeah, but have you ever held any of them?" Damian paused. Idly, his eyes drifted to the bracelet Spector was wearing.

Father had indicated to pay attention to it. It was light grey and white at their first meeting. It was blue and black now. "Tell you what," Spector continued, "If you promise not to verbally or physically attack anyone, and to not steal the weapons, I'll take you with me. If you're good, I'll pay for a few things from the gift shop."

There was something going on with Spector, and Father had clearly intended in Damian working it out himself. To prove his skills. Plus, he'd always wanted to hold a khopesh. "I concede to these terms."

---

(Zatanna Zatara (Everyone))

Out of everything Zatanna Zatara was expected at midnight, the Batman knocking on her hotel window was fairly low down on the list. She had been in Gotham a mere three hours. "And how can I help you?" she greeted with a smile anyway. The Bat seemed intimidated by Zatanna's peppiness. "Moon Knight and his brothers have been hit by a spell," he muttered.

The drive to the Batcave was...something. At least, the dim lights were easy to adjust to. "Ok," Zatanna clapped her hands, "So, where are they?" "Right this way," an elderly gentleman in a domino mask held a curtain open for her.

Slipping in, she quickly had to hold back a coo. There, curled around each other and mewling loudly, were three cats. The white one hissed at Zatanna's entrance, while the dark and light brown and white cat next to him chided him, and went back to grooming his brother's. The grey and black striped one simpily stared at her. "Oh, this is an easy fix," Zatanna waved to herself, "emoceb namuh niaga."

Between blinks, it took effect. But not in the way Zatanna expected. "That sucked," moaned the single human sitting before her, "Need anything else?" "I've done it wrong," Zatanna slowly admitted, "Let me just fix it-" "Nope, nothing to fix here," Moon Knight popped up to his feet, british accent replacing american, "Thank you so much, we're off to bed."

Nobody stopped him as he darted straight to the elevator. "Miss Zatara," the gentleman intercepted before she could follow them, "While I understand your concern, I can assure you that their condition is back to their usual." "...oh."