#jack cobbler

[myloh]

Please Level-5, I’d give you anything if you canonize the idea of Shin and Keizou being friends,,,,

[lorlyn-the-demon]

Decided to try my hand at those mermaid edits people are doing these days… with lesser known/popular characters. As you can see, they’re pretty clumsy but I’m still new at this.

[jaythecryer777]

Tack!!1!!1!1 I love em!

A random screenshot redraw from The Thief And The Cobbler!! I may or may not draw Tack more often :O

(Next image night be a lil suggestive (??)I'm soRRY !!)

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[unicronnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnom]

( IT IS NOT UNICRON'S JOB TO BRING YOU JOY. )

( MAY ALL THE GOOD IT OFFERS BURN. )

[faguscarolinensis]

Bidens 'Stellar Blanco' / 'Stellar Blanco' Beggarticks at the Sarah P. Duke Gardens at Duke University in Durham, NC

[thestuffedalligator]

"You never complain about Stone Soup."

"I like Stone Soup," said the cow. "Stone Soup is an honest con. We get a meal, everyone thinks they've seen a little bit of magic, you sell the stone for a little bit of pocket money, you pick up another stone at the next town. Everyone gets something."

"And if I remember right, you were the one who suggested we steal the magic beans."

"That wasn't stealing, that was a legitimate trade."

"A legitimate trade for a talking cow that disappeared by morning?"

"He didn't even lock the barn! How is that my fault?" She huffed and laid her head onto her forelimbs. The stalk of grass in her lips wobbled with her scowl. "Old fool never knew what he had."

Jack hummed. He craned forward to get a better look into the tiny, cracked glass, pulled gently at the corner of his eye and delicately dabbed the makeup brush.

"My point is," said the cow, "this all seems rather - cruel."

Jack turned. One half of his face was magnificently painted in faerie shades of blues and violets. The other half was just confused. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"For gods' sake, Jack, this is a perfectly innocent girl who you plan on humiliating in front of the royal court."

"How would she be humiliated? As far as she'll know, she'll have a lovely time at a lovely ball in a lovely ballgown."

"You don't have a lovely ballgown!"

"Well I can't afford a ballgown, now can I?!"

"So you're going to make her waltz in her fucking underclothes?!"

He took a dramatic breath. "Look," he said, brandishing the makeup brush. "If it worked on the fucking emperor, it'll work on a fucking scullery maid. If she gets told by a fairy that she's wearing a fairy dress that can only be seen by intelligent people, she is going to believe like hell that she's wearing the very image of sartorial extravaganza."

The brush was masterfully twiddled. "And when everyone else finds out that she's wearing a fairy dress that can only be seen by intelligent people, there won't be a single person in that room who would dare to disagree."

The cow shook her head. "I don't know, Jack," she sighed. "I just don't know."

"It'll be fine," Jack said, turning back to the tiny glass and bringing a deft hand again on the canvas. "Trust me. How did you do finding the slippers?"

"Couldn't find crystal," said the cow. "Best I could get were a glass set from an elf down at the cobbler's."

Jack hummed. "Well, they shouldn't be that important. Nobody will look too closely at her shoes."

[ashascoven]

❃☆ showering w/ the pyromaniac rat man ☆❃ pt. 1

☆ so hi!! um!! welcome to my first fanfic lolz (im nervous about posting this can you tell ?!?! o(*°▽°*)o)

☆ im rlly new to posting on tumblr, but ive been reading fanfics on here for a WHILE!! it's inspired me to write a silly one about my favorite lanky robber <3 if theres any mistakes, PLEASE hit my line abt it (i beg)

☆ here is part 2, which is smut/nsfw, also on my profile!

☆ FANFIC DEETS! junkratxreader ☆

reader is a female who's known for working with plants

VERY lengthy build-up fanfic (LOTS of reading, buckle up yall)

fluff??

emotional stuff, but nothing intense (??)

first time writing an australian accent, pls lmk if anythings weird!!

hope u enjoy :,D

“Hggshmmshh.. peeaachh c-c.. cobbler.. mmh.. eeheeheeheh!! Piee..”

“Dammit! Move over, rat-ass!” 

You felt as if you had finally managed to doze off only a couple minutes ago. 

One second you're about to drift away into a somewhat decent sleep, counting flying sheep and letting your drool start to fall.

The next, you're getting whacked in the head with a metallic hand or shoved by a wooden peg in one of your sides.

Having to share a bed with a loudly snoring pyro-freak who reeked of gunpowder and body odor was not a promising night of rest, especially in a room of pure humidity and sweat. 

The mattress beneath you two was unbalanced and squeaky, the walls surrounding it adorning overgrowing vines and tears in its paper.

His twisting, turning, n’ noises didn't make it any better, but it was kind of reassuring in the sense that you weren't sleeping alone.

When was the last time he even showered anyway? 

Does this man know how to?

How does he sleep like this?

The more you questioned the Australian in your head, the more his body managed to keep sprawling across the queen sized mattress you two shared. 

Both his normal and prosthetic limbs jabbed at your back, his armed belt straps and gauntlets not contributing to your comfort whatsoever. 

“Fucking- MOVE!”

You gripped at the bed and gave him one kick in the ass with your bare foot. 

The maniac yelped himself into a giggling fit, somehow still remaining asleep. 

God, what's his secret to being such a happy sleeper?

With one last scoff, you nearly pushed him off of the bed, but you didn't think twice about it.

Rolling your eyes, you returned to your previous position with your back facing him, crossing your arms and trying to let your eyes close again.

You thought about the mission you two were given together, recalling it hundreds of times in your head to hopefully quench at your inability to have a comfortable sleep.

Back at one of those Overwatch HQ meetings, they discussed wanting to try something new while still maintaining everyone's duties. 

Experimenting with how different heroes and scientists worked one-on-one with one another for “observational purposes,” they said.

Gibberish about increasing the rate of productivity within our cause by cutting down our dispatched team sizes.. 

“More groups of heroes can get sent out on more missions if distributed differently..!”

Blah-blah-blah..

You ignored all of the blabbering at the time, your ears only ever being open for what sounded most important and intriguing.

“It'll be an educational experience for great future references-” 

You reaaaallyy didn't think you'd be in one of the duo dispatches, yet here you were, somehow still in the flesh.

All that was asked of you both was to keep a watch out for anything suspicious at some abandoned town in the middle of who-even-fucking-knows.

Wooden huts n’ houses that were falling apart, yet they somehow still formed and held a small community of humble elders.

Supposedly, this place was a possible target of some well-feared terrorist group, and “Grandpa Jack” wanted you two to scout.

Discussion about exposed plans for making sure as many innocent people as possible experienced war “too” made your blood boil. 

It didn't make sense to you, the whole “no pain, no gain” mindset.

Clearly these people chose to live all the way out here to get AWAY from the danger, why force that on some old people anyway?

With their lack of clean drinking water and functioning power in an empty desert, you were sure they've already seen enough.

“Haven't we lost thousands of innocent civilians already? Omnic or not, they can't just keep coming up with all of this frivolous shit and throw it at us..!”

You grumbled to yourself outloud, unconsciously turning to face the ultimate rat that was laying behind you.

“Why would they send us here if they KNEW there were people out here who needed help? Wasting precious time by sending two of us out here instead of a whole team is beyond me, honestly! We'll just keep getting killed and..” 

Your eyes ended up catching onto your distorted reflection on the goggles that Jamison wore to bed.

It made you trail off and unball your fists, causing you to think about the old people again.

You thought about how much you were gonna get onto HQ's ass to seek a better home for them all.

They were sweet to you and Jamie, and you were pretty sure he would try to take one or two to keep as parents of his own.

Considering he didn't have any living ones anymore, it would check out.

Your eyes wandered off onto the flickering of the dying light bulb hanging bare off the ceiling.

The bulb hung right behind mister sleeping beauty, holding on by torn wires.

You were surprised your sleeping partner hadn't managed to somehow pull it down in his sleep yet. The thought made you smile for a bit, letting your face rest.

Then, your hand reached up to Jamison's face. 

You didn't think much about it since your mind was more on other things still, but you unconsciously held his cheek.

You watched as he smiled in his sleep, gently putting his own hands on yours and nuzzling into your touch. 

The feeling of his rough palm against your skin along with the metal of his other one sent a chill through your body, but you didn't pull away.

Just looking at him resting like a baby put your mind at ease for a bit.. It helped calm your grumpiness from not being able to sleep these past few nights.

It’s been the longest mission yet, and also the first one that you’ve slept together with a person you were sent with.

You ran your thumb over his lightly chapped bottom lip, your mind finally winding itself down.

You two had somewhat of a record of being assigned missions together, but you were never as close to each other as this. 

Something about the way your silly acquaintance slept carelessly in front of you was strangely inviting.

You swallowed your emotions and repressed your urges to suddenly hug the rat man, drawing your thumb lower to his chin. 

You ran it over his speckled face hair, still letting him hug your arm. 

“Mmmmh.. G-gosh, so.. so waaarmm..! waarmm like a maarshmaallooww.. eheeh..!!”

He chuckled in his sleep as his hugging turned into more aggressive snuggling.

It made you wonder if he'd remember anything once he woke up.

Outside of those thoughts, you were heavily caught off guard.

You didn't know if you wanted to comfortingly rub at his hair, continue holding his face, or try to hug him entirely.

Internally? You wanted to do all of those things, but it didn't feel right yet.

Despite all the deep talks you've had with Jamie on the drives and flights to missions together, you guys were still just friends at work, right?

Would it be weird to treat a friend as such? 

Did he think you two were even friends?

You always had a tendency to overthink the simplest of things.

Questions would fog your mind the split second a minor inconvenience popped up, you struggled to help that “problem” all your life.

Yet, your time spent with him so far made it feel like your questioning wasn't a problem at all. 

You always wanted to know the specifics and the “why” or “how” in anything that interested you.

Jamison was similar. He fed into your talks about figuring out what's after death, your master-list of alternatives to milk JUST for enjoying it with cereal. your wonders about what being an omnic felt like, and even your rambles about plants having feelings.

He was so invested into the plant talk that he now avoids stepping on anything green to show you that he cared about nature's heart too.

He admired your outlook on everything, the way you approach things by being your real self.

He also liked that you didn't look down on him for having an explosive personality. 

Everyone else at HQ had something against the lanky robber, but you didn't hate him at all. You two matched each other in the way that you were both transparent and almost always had a fixation or a story to share.

His eyes practically turned into sparkles whenever you two got into your deep conspiracy talks because no one else bothered to entertain his yappering about bombs, especially with mutual ranting about something else.

It was nice, soo..

You guys had to at least be friends, right?

“Mate! Earth’s waitin’ for your grand return! Ya aren’t dead yet.. Are ya, plant woman?”

Friends.. Yeah. You thought you two were cool buddies for all it’s worth.

“Aye! I knooow, me charmin’ physique’s too much to take in aaall at ooonce but-!”

It’s crazy how you were thinking about his eyes sparkling because.. Huh, how come they’re doing it right now?

“I can’t have ya dyin’ on me yet.. Ain’t no doctors around to come and shock ya awake!”

Gosh, who knew the local bombardier had such a twinkle to his eyes anyway?

“Is yer brain workin’? Want me to.. rewire it for ya?”

Twinkle.. twinkle.. twinkle..~

“Well, she’ll be apples! Ya goootta snap outta it mate! What is it ya want this time? An autograph? Some lollies? Aye! Aye..!”

You were so zoned out into the thought of his eyes, you didn’t even register that you were now actually looking at them; he had woken up.

Your hand was still on his face too, but he wasn’t hugging it anymore. 

His robotic right hand was knocking the top of your head lightly while his skinned left one was holding your cheek. 

His facial expression was one of concern despite his messy blonde hair and some drool glistening off the side of his mouth.

With the way he clearly scooted closer to you, you two were actually really close to each other this time.

“Woaahh.. Ooh.. Oh..? OH!!” You froze up again, covering your mouth and (almost literally) getting knocked out of your trance.

“Whew!” Jamison sighed in relief.

“There's me’ plant woman! Turns out me charm was too much for ya to handle afteraaalll!” He chuckled, quickly shifting into a lounging model pose and striking you a sly grin.

“O-Oh.. Oh my gosh! H-How long was I like that?” You panicked a little, wiping sweat from your forehead and quickly rubbing it into the tail of your shirt.

“Since me eyes opened up! Let's say.. ‘bout half a’ hour?”

“H-half an hour?!?”

“Yeah! Are ya alright? Did ya think me eyes were THAT gorgeous?” He chuckled, rubbing his chin. 

“Pshh..” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms once again.

“It’s alright if ya think so! I think so too! But, ya aren’t allowed to tell me fans that! Ehehe~!” He grinned, suddenly wrapping his arms around you and jokingly snuggling his head against the top of yours.

“E-eugh!! Fans my ass! Wait until they find out that you probably don't even wash yours, you stinky!” You exclaimed, trying to push your way out of his arms but to no avail.

“S-stinky?!?! Hey-! There's a’ supa’ top secret special essence in me junker way o’ livin..! T-the cleanest ya'd ever know!! How 'bout ya take a smell~!??” He challenged, immediately shoving his arm pits in your face and keeping you in his grasp.

“GOD! Quit it!! You smell terrible-! Ugh!!! Let me go right now!”

“Nuh-uh! Hatin’ on me wondrous magnificence ain't nice!”

“Your breath's gonna kill me, you bastard! Agh!! You literally need a bath!!!” You were muffling into his arms, trying to push him away even harder. 

You managed to push yourself upwards, but you still were trapped in his grasp as he giggled n’ snuggled away. 

As much as you hated to admit it, his silliness was really comforting, charming in it's own way even.

Yeah.. he didn't smell the best, but!!.. He was kind of fun to be around. It was hardly ever boring around the rat man.

“Fine, whatever,” You sighed, no longer fighting to leave his sweaty arms.

“Your eyes are.. nice to look at. Anyway, I'm tired and somehow comfortable in this position so if you move weirdly, I'm pushing you off the bed.”

He loudly gasped, his eyes widening and sparkling so much so that you could've sworn staring directly into them would've blinded you.

“Y-ya really m-mean it?!!?!! A-about.. me eyes?!? OoooOOoohh~! I.. H-How I could jus’ kis-”

You cut him off by wrapping your arms around his head. His face was buried into your chest while his arms were still around you.

You felt him freeze, his immediate blush against your chest practically able to burn through you. He didn't scream or pull away, just sat there for a bit, shocked at someone hugging him back for once.

You sighed out again in content, now leaning your face on top of his head. His hair felt surprisingly soft against your cheek, but he still smelled bad.

“God, you smell so terrible.. but.. you're kinda.. comfy and..- Okay you're actually very comfy what the hell.” 

You gushed, your leaning turning into you practically snuggling against his hair.

The rat man stayed frozen in his position, shock taking over his body. For once, it wasn't one of those triggering shocks that turned his trauma into adrenaline; it was a.. refreshing kind of shock? The kind that was making him realize how starved from affection he really was for so long.

He felt like a deer mesmerized by headlights.

“If only you didn't move so much in your sleep, tsk tsk.. I can totally get over the strong burnt tire smell for how snuggly your hair is thoug-”

“Ihh shay..”

He suddenly muffled through your chest, but quieter than his normal tone.

“Eh?”

One of his fingers twitched.

“..Ihh shay shihh!”

“Fucking- Get out of there and spit it out!”

You pouted, pulling his face out of your chest’s cave to look him in the eyes and hear him properly.

“I-I’ll stay.. still! m-mighty still.. i-if ya keep on.. rubbin’ that pretty face on ma’ skull.. p-please? please mate!!”

‘Absolutely the fuck not!’ is what you almost instinctively said, but something about this weird man’s vulnerability around you gave you a feeling his request wasn’t ill intended. 

He nudged you into a softer tone towards him for the night, so you silently raised a brow. He kept pleading, his sparkling eyes bouncing between you and the rest of the room.

“I-I ain't had anyone.. touch me ‘air, l-let alone me whole body i-in years! Feels comfortin’- so- i- uh- p-please mate! i won't be buggin’ ya’ rest any longer i-if ya felt kind ‘nough to.. perhaps grant me thee honor-!?”

“I’m doing it, so hush up.”

“Y-yes m’lady”

He quickly blurted out, before burying his face back in-between your chest with a relieved giggle.

“Hah, for someone who goes by being a rat, you're sure acting like a puppy right now.”

“Y-ya really think so!?”

“Yeah sure, but- hmph, the ‘junk’ part still applies. I'm so close to dragging you into a bath myself..”

“>:(“

“Wait.. This kinda gives me an idea..” 

A mischievous grin growing on your face as you mumbled to yourself.

“Whaddya say?”

He grumbled, oblivious to your scheming. You slowly tried pulling away from him, but to no avail.. He unconsciously scooted closer into your arms with each pull.

“..nothing, ratty-poo.” 

You pushed him away quickly with your hands now gripping his shoulders.

“A-ay mate! W-whaddya push me away foorrr? I was enjoyin’ me time in there.. :(“

He yelped in response, his arms now crossing with a pout.

“No more snuggling until you take a bath!”

“W-whuh!?”

“I'm not cuddling your hair until you wash it.”

“..noooo :((“

“No shower, no snuggle!!”

“:(((... Fine..”

“W-wait- You're giving in that easil-?”

“JUNK ATTACK!!!!”

He yelled, diving back into your chest with his arms around your waist once again. You scoffed, not cuddling or holding him back.

“Rat-ass.”

“Y-yes m-m’lady..??”

“I'm giving you five seconds to get off of me, or I'll kick you off.-”

“N-no!! P-please mate!-”

“I'll go and grab a bucket of ice cold water to throw at you so help me you don't mov-”

You've never seen a tall grown man back up to the edge of a bed so quickly.

“GO.”

You yelled, pointing violently at the bathroom door.

“NEIN!”

“I SAID GO!”

“NO!”

“You want more cuddles from me, right, ratty-poo..?~”

Your tone softened as you twirled your hair and pleaded your eyes at him.

“I- u-uh- y-yes m-m'lady but-”

“THEN GO BATHE!”

He whined another ‘no’ in response, crossing his legs and arms while looking away.

You sighed, before crawling across the bed and hooking your arm around his.

“Lord.. What am I gonna do with you..”

“W-well I- AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!”

“GET YOUR ASS IN THAT SHOWER JAMIE!!”

You yelled again as you held him in a headlock position.

As he whined, you held him there for a bit, thinking.

“Hmm..”

“You l-let go of me t-this instant mate! T-the junkers back in me home town w-wont be pleased with how you're behavin’ towards me greatnes-”

“What if we took a bath together?”

“-and once they find out what you've- huh-!?!”

“You and me, we bathe together. I'll literally help you clean up if it means you won't stink in bed.”

You said casually as you quickly faced him towards you and dropped him onto the bed. He landed on his back with his arms above his head while you sat on top of him.

Questionable position if you may, but you dare not complain about the view.

He was too in shock to notice it either.

He stared at you wide eyed. 

He opened his mouth and put a finger up to say something multiple times, only to close it with more thought and look away, his finger curling up and down with each pause.

He thought about the offer for the long time.

Then, he rubbed his chin. You watched carefully, not letting your guard fall in case he felt like randomly wrapping himself around you again.

“Hmph.. if t-that’s what it'll take.. then I suppose a.. mighty handsome fella like me.. wouldn't mind bathin’ with a.. pretty.. f-flower woman like you!”

“Uh huh..-”

“B-but under one of me’ own conditions!”

“.. you're what now-”

“Bath cuddles?”

He clapped his hands together in a praying motion, pleading with those damn sparkly eyes again. It's like he just does it in command at this point..

“God, what are we, a couple?”

You yawned with closed eyes. 

“I-I.. W-well! Your one an’ only gentleman of’uh bombardier wouldn't complain!”

He nervously smiled and blushed, his gold tooth shining comically as he said that.

It earned a giggle out of you, followed with covered mouth mumbling.

‘You’re so silly, it's kind of attractive..’

“Whaddya say, me’ pretty plant-y mistress?”

“I said, you're so silly, it's kind of.. u-uh- cool-? I guess??!? I don't- Mistress!?- I- W-whatever- C’mon, let's go! Into the baaathh we goo..! C’mon c’moonn..”

You spurted out, getting up and dragging him by the arm into the bathroom. 

You didn't really think through the fact that.. this man would be so close to you while you two were undressed.

Oddly enough, he didn't give the vibe of someone who'd try anything, but it was still weird. 

One second you're forced to share a bed with this guy.. And the next? You've convinced him to take a shower with you??? Weird..-o!!

When you two made it, you both kind of just stared at the bathroom and each other for a minute. 

It was a decently sized room, but the entirety of it was a shower.. literal shower room?.. whatever.

There wasn't a sink or toilet like the bathrooms you were used to. 

Instead, there was just one large shower head in the center of the room, a drain in a corner, and tiles that patterned the floor and walls in a creamy gradient. The two handles for the shower were next to the doorway, labeled for their temperatures.

There were also two slim windows higher up on two walls facing each other, slightly cracked for the steam.

The only light you guys had came from either these windows, or from the doorway to the room you shared, so it was acceptably dim.

Some vines creeped through corners here and there, but it was surprisingly much cleaner than the rest of the hut you guys stayed in. The non-direct warm lighting really set the vibe.

As you turned both of the handles halfway, you watched in surprise as the rat man happily stripped at whatever he had on, going for a dive on the shower floor as if it were a kid’s waterslide with a ‘yippee!!’

It immediately followed with a groan of pain from him, and a reactive facepalm from you.

With a sigh of ‘Oh, what I'll even do with him..’ (ironic), you quickly undid your hair and stripped off your clothes while he wasn't looking.

He swiveled around right as you finished, watching in awe as you awkwardly shuffled onto the floor next to him with a travel sized bottle of soap and a mini loofa.

“S-ssheesh..” he gaped, “what a beautiful woman..”

“T-thanks, b-but don't look too hard, silly guy.” You joked lightheartedly and rolled your eyes, your initiative agenda from before going out of the window because of the attractive man in front of you.

The hot steamy water combined with how it washed away some of the rat man’s dirt made his revealed skin slightly harder to not drool over..

..but you fought any urges or sudden fantasies you had right then and there. 

‘It’s just the lack of sleep getting to me,’ you quickly scolded yourself in your head, ‘.. there's no way I shoul- COULD see him like that, yep..’

“You're.. not too shabby yourself..” You muttered to get it out of your system, painfully controlling your hands from wandering. Thankfully, he probablyyy didn't hear you. 

With that, you were getting to work with your soap on his arms, trying not to think too hard about the man before you.

“Caaan I have me cuddlin’ time with ya noooww, plant womaaan?”

“Noo! I just started with you and I'm not done yet, rat-head.. Be patient n’ be quiet.” You grumbled, finishing his arms and scrubbing his back like a concerned mother.

“Pleeeaaaaseeee…????” He covered his eyes and whined as you made way to his torso with your loofah. The scrubber was barely holding on and you weren't anywhere near finished..

“Don't make me tie you down in here just to get you clean, bastard..” You threatened, moving from his back to his front side. You held at one side of his torso, scrubbing away.

He moved his hands from his face to his sides, looking down at you with that puzzled gaze once again. You glanced up at him with a raised brow before looking back down at your work.

You weren't actually all too irritated. Tired, yes, but it was actually kind of destressing being able to work your hands at something like this. 

You were also literally.. bathing a grown ass man, but you'd be lying if you said anything about preferring to be at home, bored and alone.

At least this mission gave you some kind of purpose, and alongside an entertaining goofball as well. It could be much worse, but it really wasn't bad at all which you liked.

Suddenly, he started patting your head, a close eyed grin on his face.

“Oouuhh… M-mate, ya know.. Thanks a lot for this! I appreciate ya’, I really do!”

“Don't sweat it, poo-face, you were already sweating enough in bed anyway..” You chuckled with another playful eye roll.

“If you weren't gonna bathe yourself, something had to be done for BOTH OF us to catch some rest for the mission, and goddess KNOWS I can't sleep with a loud stinky man..” You responded mindlessly, gently grabbing his face by his jaw and scrubbing his neck.

“It gets.. hard sometimes,” he threw his head back with a sigh, “I know I'm supposed ‘tuh.. do it all me’ self but, I lose me’ mind to the world o’ bombs!” He chuckled.

“You don't say…” You coughed with sarcasm, still listening and cleaning. He's used to your personality by now, and he knows you never really mean any harm.

“Oh, but I do! Even with me’ prosthetics, it jus’ makes it harder n’.. I could never fancy the time to.. uh.. keep takin’ em’ on n’ off..”

“..It bugs me, the pain, it's a reeaall.. buggin' feeling, both in me’ arms n’ legs.. n’.. the mind. It does somethin’ to ya, makes people call ya crazy!” He gestured by wiggling his normal arm, then his robotic one in comparison. 

You put his arms down like an annoyed cat, but you weren't actually annoyed, just trying to reach over him to attempt washing his hair.

“..but really ‘m not.. I.. I just resort to.. expressin’ what takes it all away.. and uh! bein’ me!, ya’ kno- Aauh.. T-that feels.. holy..” He cut himself off, sighing in relief. You had bowed his head under the running water for you to better reach him, unknowingly giving him a more direct view of your bare chest. 

“A-Anything to take me’ mind off the.. A-ahem-.. the uh.. rot.. the distinct feelin’ of not bein’ the same as everyone else.. anymore.” He cleared his throat, awkwardly trying not to stare as he spoke, but you didn't think much about it.

“People stay clear of me all the time! N’ they think I don't be noticin’ b-but I do!” He ran a hand through his hair after you moved down to his legs.

“It hurts, but.. I just keep doin’ me’, I try not to stay in me’ past, live for me’ mum, n’ keep it movin’!”

“Oh! That's also why I like ya’ mate!” He smiled, throwing up finger guns.

“Whuh- Really?” You looked at him.

“Yeah! You don't treat me funny for me’ quirks! You always seemed like.. a couple screws loose in somebody’s noggin never bothered ya’! Me’ motors don't drive ya’ wild, do I?” 

“Pshhh… You definitely drive me crazy, but that doesn't mean I'm never down for a wild adventure with you, rat-ass.”

“See? Ya’ get me! I know your tired n’ all, n’ I'm sorry for takin’ away from your beauty rest like this but..” He scratched his chin and sighed, looking to the side.

“Thanks mate, r-really..” He mumbled, shuffling closer and wrapping his arms around you for a genuine hug.

“I- U-uh-.. Your.. welcome? All I've done was treat you like.. a normal human being? As you.. should be?” You awkwardly hugged him back, confused.

You pulled away, your hands on his shoulders.

“Despite our friendship, I don't know what it is you've REALLY really been through, but no matter how tired or over it I may seem, I still think you're hella cool of a guy.” You warmed up to his hug, patting his back.

“Whenever you wanna chat about.. literally anything in the world, you know who to come to, silly.. Seriously, don't ever sweat it.” You smiled and yawned, going back to washing his upper body off for a second, more gentler time. 

You were surprised he didn't question the hot water in hot weather or how quickly it managed to cool you guys off. It was definitely making you more sleepy though.

“T-thanks, plant woman..” He wiped away a tear, sighing with a contentful “aah” as you tended to him. He leaned back, taking in the feeling of your care.

“Ya know, you're reeaaal good at this.. are ya’, perhaps, experienced ‘n bathing other people?” 

“Wh- This is.. how baths are meant to be taken, no?”

“T-together??!? Mate, I’d kill to have this luxury of bein’ cleaned by ya’ like this all the time!!”

“Whuh- No! I m-meant.. the soap and water, you fucking peanut.”

“Ooh.. W-well!” he pointed a finger up, “I don't care ‘bout standin’ under some lousy water for a’ hour! But.. ya’ make me want to if it means you'll be the one cleanin’ me!”

“You're an adult, Jamie.”

“Don't forget me’ prosthetics-”

“They're literally waterproof sealed..”

“How would ya’ even know that!?”

“You told me this in our past rant sessions, twice I might add.. Something about avoiding radiactiv-”

“Screw you, mate! ( ` ﾛ ´ )”

“..You probably would though. (>ᴗ•)”

☆ if anyone actually makes it this far, tysm for reading!! feedback is 100% welcomed and appreciated <33

☆ i promise ill get the smut out for this eventually.. ill also make a pinned request post soon!! with graduation coming up, im a bit busy :((.. BUT ITLL ALL COME!

☆ ^^ update, here it is!!

☆ enjoy ur day/night yall! eat, stay hydrated, and keep loving junkrat fr ♡( ◡‿◡ )

[thethirdromana]

You have done cheeses. How about dessert.

Ooh, good idea.

See, the thing about Victorian food is that a lot of it sounds pretty unappealing from the vantage point of the 21st century. There were a lot of overboiled vegetables and stodgy meals designed to get you through winters with no central heating.

But Victorian desserts? Much more reliably delicious. So I can restrict myself to the desserts that these characters might actually have eaten. No tiramisu (1960s) or banoffee pie (1971).

Starting off with an easy one, RM Renfield is the traditional Scottish fruit slice (which I already highlighted in my food guide to Dracula) known as flies graveyard. I'm going to trust that one doesn't need any additional exploration.

Lucy Westenra is light (literally: "Lucy" means light), pretty, and appealing to small children. OK, admittedly the eater-eaten relationship goes the other way around with the small children vs Lucy-as-dessert, but I think it still works. She's a bombe glacée, a spherical ice-cream dessert that first appeared on restaurant menus in the 1880s.

I had a fun browse through Dutch desserts before I found the perfect one for Abraham van Helsing. He's the old man of the story, but he's still a little bit spicy and a little bit divisive - much like anise, which flavours Dutch oudewijvenkoek, or old wives' cake.

For Quincey Morris, there could only be one option. He's from Texas, y'all, he is obviously peach cobbler.

Continuing with the suitors, the obvious answer for Arthur Holmwood would be a dessert associated with wealth and privilege - perhaps Eton Mess, traditionally served at the annual cricket match between Eton and Harrow Schools, and first mentioned in print in 1893. But Eton Mess is a light, sweet, inconsequential sort of dessert and that just doesn't seem right for Arthur. Instead, I'd associate him with a rich, indulgent, traditional, solid plum pudding.

Jack Seward is in some ways the most modern of the suitors. Also the most highly strung. He's cherries jubilee, a brand-new dessert in 1897 as it was (probably) created that year for Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee. It's full of liqueur (suitably for Jack, who's full of chloral) and it gets flambéed at the table.

I have to admit that I struggled with Jonathan Harker. Maybe I just love him too much to caricature him, you know? But what I came down is that he needed to be a beloved treat, available on menus across the UK, not wildly expensive, not wildly luxurious. And also, Jonathan goes through a lot of trials and drinks a lot of tea in this novel. Jonathan is a toasted teacake.

As for Mina Harker née Murray, it seemed appropriate that she should be a similar sort of dessert to her husband. So he's a bun with dried fruit and she's a bread with dried fruit. Specifically, she's an Irish soda bread (since Murray is an Irish surname) that is known either as Spotted Dog or - more suitably for Mina - railway cake.

[appalamutte]

you’re sixteen-years-old, moseying through your local bookstore when you come across it.

you’re not usually into nonfiction, especially not memoirs, but the man on the cover is familiar. laughing over his shoulder with his eyes closed, relaxed in a turquoise button-up and jeans, standing with his back to the camera at a counter cluttered with leafy vegetables and mixing bowls.

from seeds to supper, the title reads, and his name is eric bittle-zimmermann.

you deliberate for a bit, picking it up and reading the blurb, the reviews printed on the back sleeve, the first page. the very first words of the book are hey, y’all! and your friend walks over at that point, and they see him and say—“oh, i used to watch some of his videos.”

so you buy it, because your friend said you should, and later that night you’re already deep into the stories of peach cobbler recipes and learning how to differentiate between living and surviving when they send you the link to the guy’s old youtube channel. it hasn’t been active for a few years, but that doesn’t matter because oh my god are there so many videos. years of videos, almost a decade’s worth, starting all the way back in the early 2010s and you get sucked into them all, laughing at the funny ones and tearing up at the emotional ones, watching as the guy slowly grows up from high school to college and beyond.

you switch between reading the memoir and watching the videos over the next few weeks. you see his video on introducing his boyfriend and you read the chapter on maple-crusted apple pie and how learning to love is a lot like learning to lattice a pie, slow and patient and sometimes messy.

you see his cooking challenge video featuring all of his friends from college and you read the chapter on homemade bagel bites and how family doesn’t have to be a four-course meal you’ve had reservations for all your life. sometimes, family is just frozen bagel bites and sriracha sauce crowded around an uneven table.

you see his two-part wedding vlog posted in 2019, nearly 10 years ago, and you read his chapter on red velvet cake and how the brain can get confused, something to do with all the nerve endings getting tangled up, because when love reaches the same heights fear does, you end up fainting into your then-boyfriend’s arms.

then, you see his final video on the channel, a farewell to his subscribers and a glimpse as to what’s next. it’s short and simple, just his husband and him sitting on a couch together, a toddler between them. and you read the last chapter of the book on chicken tenders and how a seed in the garden never knows it’ll grow into a supper worth loving. it just knows it’ll grow into something, and that the growing takes time.

(a few years later, when you’re twenty and in college, you’re downtown with some friends and come across it. you still aren’t into nonfiction that much, but that one memoir always stuck with you, sitting on your shelf back in your dorm. and this one, with the guy’s back to the camera, tall and steadfast, standing in the middle of an ice rink, an emboldened number one across the back of his jersey. the name is familiar.

melting ice, the title reads, and his name is jack bittle-zimmermann.

you pick it up.)

[queersrus]

request for cottagecore + sad-ish? id pack? please + thanks!

here's my attempt!

assuming id pack includes more than just the usual npts i'll throw in a few cottagecore and sad related labels i found

(nick)names:

ambrose, amos, ansel, acacia, ada, adelaide, arwin/arwen, ava, avery/averie, aviva, amaranth, able, arbor, art, arty/artie, asher, ainsley, acheron, adalia brandy/brandi, branwen, billie/billy, bryony, bill, banner, booker, bram

barley, brion, brian, bryce chloris, chandra, cyrene, cayenne, cade, clyde, chester, cliff denna, diana/dianna, diona, donna/dona, derby, dallas, danica, daphne, dixie, dawn, dylan

edmund, elenore, elodie, eudora, elenore/eleanor, ebony, erica, eila, eira, eve, eithne, everlee, elize, eliza, elizabeth, everlyn, elwood, emerson, elowen finnegan, freddy/freddie, frederick, fallin/fallon, florance/florence

fable, frank, frankie/franky, franklin/franklyn, faine, filbert, finneas ginny/ginnie, gale, georgia, george, georgina, granger halcyone, hana/hanna/hannah, harriet, harry, hayley/hailie/hailey, halie/hallie, heather, harlowe/harlow, harrow, hadar, hawl, hayes,

huck, holden, huso ilana, illiana/iliana, ingrid, ivory jane, janet/janette, jesse/jessie, josie, jose, jack, jackie, jackson kingston, kodi/kodie, kodiak, kylan

lupin, lian, liana/lianna, liane/lianne, linc, linden, lyle, lucius maisie, matilda, maude, mabel, merle, marin, mica/mika, mason/macon, martin, miller, miles nellie, nyssa, ned, nick, ness

opholia, oliver, olive, olivia, oleander, odell, oriel, oscar paisley, poppy, posie, phineas, parker rose, rosemary/rosemarie, rosy/rosie, rory, rosette, rosetta, rue, rosabel/rosabell/rosabelle, rosa, rosabela/rosabella, rosella, rosaria,

rosario, rob, robert, ray, reed, ridge, ryland, rowan, roan shiloh, sharon, scarlet/scarlett/skarlett, sam, samantha, samuel, sunny/sunnie, sawyer, shaw, shay, steve, stevie, stevia, sorell/sorrell, seb, sebby/sebbie, sebastian, saddie/sadie, sade

theodore, theo, tori, toria, tamie/tammie, tawny, terra, timber, tim, timothy, tanner, teddy/teddie, trevis/travis, trevor, tyler, tristan/tristin, tristah/trista, trystia verginia, vicky/vickie, victor, victoria, viola, violet/violette,

violeta/violetta, valerian, vernon winnie, willa, winston, winifred, winslow, will, william, willow, wade, wagner, warren, watts, watson, wilhelmina yvonne, yves zephyr/zephyre, zara, zinnia, zion

surnames:

appleyard, ashton, ashwood baker, brookstone, butterfield catkin, cobbler, cooper, copper, copperwood, copperfield, crestfallen dogwood, direwood, direbrook, direfield, desperfield, downyard

doleman fenlon, falkner, forlorn greenwood, greenfield, golding, goldwood, goldfield, griefman, griefwood, gardner

hilbrook, holbrook, heath, horsewood, horsefield, hawksley, harrowing, hawkswood, hawthorne, hawkner, hawkfield, holloway, hallowood

larken, limewood, lockhart, lovejoy mourner, mournwright, mournman nettleship

plowman, penrose, penwright redbrook, rosedale, redwood, rosewood, redfield summerfield, sweetnam, seawright, sorrowfield, sorrowbrook, shamewood, shamewright

thacker, thatcher westfield, wainwright, write/wright, wagonwright, woodsman, wyrmwood/wormwood, winterwood, winterrose, wretchwood, wretchman

system names:

the cottagecore *system, the sorrowful system, the melancholic cottage system, the mourning flowerbed system, the gloomy garden system, the tearful system, the harvest system

1st p prns: i/me/my/mine/myself

ci/cotte/cottagy/cottagine/cottageself hi/he/hy/harvestine/harvestself gi/garde/gardy/gardine/gardenself si/sade/sady/sadine/sadself si/sorre/sorry/sorrowine/sorrowself mi/me/mely/melancholine/melancholyself

2nd p prns: you/your/yours/yourself

co/cottager/cottagers/cottagerself ho/harvester/harvesters/harvesterself go/gardener/gardeners/gardenerself so/sader/sadders/sadderself so/sorrower/sorrowers/sorrowerself mo/melancholer/melancholers/melancholerself

3rd p prns: they/them/theirs/themself

co/cottage, cott/age, cot/cottage, cot/tage, cottage/cottages, cottage/core har/vest, ha/harvest, harv/est, harvest/harvests gar/den, gar/garden, garden/gardens, garden/core farm/core sa/sad, sad/sads, sa/ad, sad/sadden, so/sorrow, sor/row, sorr/ow, sorrow/sorrows, sorrow/sorrowful mel/melancholy, mel/ancholy, melan/choly, melancholy/melancholies, melancholy/melchancholic

titles:

the weeping gardener, the mourning farmer, the sad cottage dweller, the melancholic planter, the sorrowful woodsman

**one who lives a sad cottage life, one who mourns within ones cottage, one who weeps amongst ones gardens, one who copes with sadness through cottage life

book titles:

the sad little cottage, a melancholic villager, the weeping willows, the mourning garden, the sorrows of an old cottage, a pitiful harvest

genders:

buncottagecoric(link),

cottagegoric(link), cafdreamian(link), cottagecrittean(link), cottagecoric(link), Cálidatierramielgender(link)

epuisetristic(link)

gendersob(link)

Sadnostacatgender(link)

orientations: (n/a)

other:

cottagecore bpd(link)

many can be found by searching cottagecore genders/mogai/liom as well, there are many versions of cottagecore flags especially for lgbt related labels so they should not be hard to find if you feel like looking!

*system can be replaced with any alternative (ex. cluster, collective, hoard/horde, etc)

**one can be replaced with any prn

[crazylittlejester]

I started typing and it got out of control...

I don't know if you've watched Ever After High or not, but I've been re-watching the entire show on account of not having much to do and I've come to the conclusion that an LU crossover with EAH would be absolutely awesome. The general idea is that characters from fairytales grow up and have kids that re-enact their parents' stories and this happens over and over again to the point that their entire society is built around this. Since they have a magic book that kind of seals your fate if you sign it, this is where the conflict of the show comes from.

Obviously there are a few different ways a person could go about setting this up but I'm just going to pick out fairy tale parents and backstories for them because I think that's the most fun.

Warriors: I'm thinking that he'd be best as Helen of Troy. Greek mythology is canon in EAH because of Cupid, so it works. The same themes of lust and infatuation are present. Also war.

Wild: He fits Sleeping Beauty's story the most, but that's already taken so the next best thing is Rip Van Winkle. It's only 20 years compared to 100, but I think it's the closest I'm getting for now, and the point is that he wakes up as an old man.

Sky: I think he should be the guy from the jabberwocky poem that uses the vorpal sword to defeat it. The jabberwocky is supposed to be the most powerful monster in EAH last I checked, so it would be the closest equivalent to Demise other than the Evil Queen.

Legend: Given that wizards are supposed to live a long time, Merlin would be a good fit for Legend because he'd have a few centuries to finish growing up into a mature wizard. He could still be a veteran of adventures this way without sacrificing his magical abilities.

Twilight: Unfortunately there aren't really any stories about wolves that aren't villains so he's tragically stuck being a non-descript farmer. I'm so sorry. Under other circumstances he'd get to be one the guy from "East of the Sun and West of the Moon" except that guy is a bear and not a wolf.

Wind: I'm torn between picking an infamous pirate or a story from mythology. Either one would probably work, to be honest, but it would probably work better if Tetra was a pirate's daughter and he's related to a deity in charge of ocean storms.

Hyrule: Ended up picking Jack the Giant Killer for him because that story's about surviving because you're clever, and Hyrule's games are supposed to be ridiculously hard. Also there's a magic sword involved.

Four: With the Minish he could totally fit into the story about the little elves that help the tailor/cobbler. But there's a story called "The Four Skillful Brothers" and I can't say no because it literally ends with them rescuing the princess via teamwork and splitting the reward.

Time: I feel like he'd fit in best as some kind of forest spirit or changeling, but as the Hero's Shade he could also be Godfather Death. I've been thinking about it and I really can't come up with a good placement for him.

Spirit Tracks Link gets an honorary mention because he is canon in my heart. Since New Hyrule is in the middle of the industrial revolution he's probably more of an urban legend. Either the ghost of a train conductor's kid or a guy cursed to see ghosts like his Zelda.

I know nothing about ever after high but im obsessed with what you’ve just said to me oh my god

first of all anytime someone draws the connection between Wars and Helen of Troy I loose my mind a bit, one day when I have the proper brain capacity and time I’m going to write a whole ass analysis paper on the comparison between the two of them because its so important to me

ALSO JABBERWOCKY MENTION??? I’M OBSESSED. AND JACK THE GIANT KILLER FOR HYRULE?? dude I can see you spent sooo much time thinking about this and oh my god I am so obsessed this is really cool, you ate

[alexandraisyes]

What's the favourite food of all your RESET AU characters?

Yeah alright

Primary Dimension

Sun: Cheesecake Nexus: Blueberry Pancakes (With Whipped Cream) Solar: Caramel Corn Earth: Macaroons + Bearclaw Pastries Monty: Loaded Chili Cheese Dogs Foxy: Lemon Pepper Chicken Puppet: Escargot Finley (FC): Apple Slices Moon: Grilled Cheese (With Tomato Soup) Vanth (OG Lunar): Butterscotch Candies Lulu/Lunar (OC): Spicy Ramen (Extra Cheese + Scrambled Eggs) Chips/Eclipse (OC): Beef Bulgogi Bowl Killcode: Chicken Noodle Soup Solar Flare: Lamb Stew Ruin: Peach Cobbler Angel (Solar's Sun - Reset): Omelets Crescent (Solar's Moon - Reset): Chocolate Blood (and Harvest): Philly Steak Burritos (Bleeding steak) Jack: Top Ramen

Secondary (Lord Eclipse) Dimension Kronos (Lord Eclipse): Dino Nuggets (Stolen From Primary Dimension) Crius (Servant Sun): Strawberries Helios (Dark Sun): Dark Chocolate Dutch Bundt Cake Styx (Lord Lunar): Honeyed Steak Moros (Servant Eclipse): Lugaw Gaia (Evil Earth): Bread Bowls Icarus (Star-Holder Freddy): Blackberry Pie Eos (Lonely Sun): Shortcake Khonsu (Feral Moon): Fish + Raw Meat Nyx (Evil Lunar): Sashimi Sobek (Evil Monty): Cowboy Casserole Ammit (Mage Monty): Ettoufée Brock (Local Monty): Apple Harvest Chili Bloom (Moon and Vanth Merged): Cinnamon Spiced Beef

AU co-owned with @polaris-stuff and @dragoncxv360

[aristocrating]

I wish you would write a fic where Bitty died during the first Haus party, but doesn't really realize it, and now haunts the Haus doing his ghost vlogs

that's such a fun prompt!! here's my quick pantsing take on it

Hey, y’all! Sorry it’s been a bit since the last video! Things have been sooo hectic!

Jack was so pissed after the Kegster, y’all! You wouldn’t believe! I heard him yell at Ransom and Holster in the den for a solid hour the next day, over the Lord knows what!

Those two boys are so nice though! They helped me do my first kegstand! I’m a real college boy now, y’all!

But, y’all? These hockey boys do NOT appreciate my baking. Every time I whip up something for them they avoid the kitchen like the plague! Now, I know my mama raised a little Southern gentleman and I may have high standards when it comes to manners, but not even a simple thank you?! Why do I spend this whole time baking for them if they’re gon’ be like this?

Anyways, it turns out there’s not only boys livin’ in that house? I met these two lovely gals after the Kegster who said they’re livin’ there, too! Who knew!

_X_ _X_ _X_

“Holtz, I heard it again.”

“Go back to sleep, Rans.”

“No, Adam, I heard it for sure this time.”

Adam sits up and rubs his eyes. “Dude, I hear nothing.”

“Bro, I’m not fucking crazy. It sounds like it’s coming from downstairs. Like, kitchenware clattering.”

Adam listens into the silence. And, indeed, now that he’s focusing.

“Rans. Is that someone… singing?”

Adam hears the bed squeak above him as Ransom sits up. “Shit. Bro. You’re right.” There’s more rustling, and when Adam looks up, he can see Ransom looking down at him over the edge of his bed, staring back at him, looking as mortified as Adam feels.

Ransom scrambles down from the top bunk, and they both quickly pull on boxers before creeping down the stairs.

Adam nearly has a heart-attack when he bumps into Jack in the dark. “Jesus Christ, dude! What the hell– … Jack?”

Jack is standing in the dark hallway, blue eyes looking ghastly in the dark. He’s shaking.

“Fuck, Ransy,” Holster hisses. “Jack is coral-reefing.”

Ransom quickly pushes past Adam and puts a hand on Jack’s chest. “Breathe with me, bro.”

It takes a few moments before Jack makes a sound like he’s choking as he gasps for air. “I– Ransom.”

“It’s me, bro.”

“Did you also–” He doesn’t even need to finish the question.

“Yeah, bro,“ Adam says and puts what he hopes is a soothing hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“Calisse.”

“We were about to go down to look.”

Jack shakes his head. “I know what it is. It’s that baker kid.” He turns to look at them, and Adam sees his face contorted with anger again in the dark.

“Woah, bro!” Adam shoots Ransom a look. He knows Ransom is feeling the guilt well up inside of him again, because he feels the same. “Let’s not–”

“Shhh,” Ransom goes. He holds up a finger. “Do you hear it?”

There it is again, clear as day now. A voice, downstairs. Singing. Clear notes echo faintly through the stillness of the Haus. And what’s worse–

“Do you fucking smell that?” Jack goes.

All three of them slowly creep downstairs, jumpy with every step as the wood creaks beneath their feet. They make it to the kitchen, and there it is:

On the kitchen table, which has been wiped clean, stands a peach cobbler in the pan.

Fresh from the oven.

_X_ _X_ _X_

It’s what you do…

It’s what you see…

I know if I’m haunting you, you must be haunting me…

[beefrobeefcal]

I’m here for the celebration 🎉

I think your Jack loves him some good sweet tea on a hot day, I bet he even takes his shirt off and you can see his sweat glistened chest. I bet if you offered him to come in and cool off he’d take it. I bet he’d also take you up on your offer of a slice of pie.

But of course he lifts you up on the table and pulls your shorts down as he places some of the sweet peaches from the pie on top of your mound and then dives right in eating the most delicious slice of pie and pussy

I’m not the best at food play but I hope this translated into hot as hell chubby Jack smut 😇

Ily, happiest of birthdays my beefaroni babe!😘

Prinny... you've done it again

Oh my gawd. I have visions of that fat cowboy having his peach cobbler and just being insatiable, wanting more! 🥵🤠🐎

I absolutely 100% agree with this hot THOT for our Chubby Jack!

Thank you, Prinny, for being here in the Bistro with us and giving us more for our mental spank banks!

Yours in sin,

Beefro👌🥩💜

[prolix-yuy]

Chapter 8: And I Was Reborn

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader “Sugar”

Summary: The only thing left is a question. And an answer.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: M, mention of nudity, allusions to sexual acts, mild body horror relating to being a host (not gory, but descriptive of seeing under the skin and a skull), sort of playing fast and loose with how the hosts work, was E in previous chapters so full series is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: After everything they've been through, it's come down to this. This is the penultimate chapter, with only the epilogue left, and one big question still left unanswered. I'll leave it to you to find out what that is, and what Sugar's answer will be.

Cross-posted on AO3

Decoherence Masterlist   ||   Whiskey & Westworld Masterlist

Morning slips into the bedroom like a lover, quiet and soft at your back. You blink awake slowly, eyes blurred as you acclimate. Cream-colored walls lend a stark difference from the blue quilt draped over you and Jack. You smile into your pillow, toes curling between the sheets.

True to his word, Russell didn’t come scratching and snuffling at the door until several hours after Jack locked him out. It was plenty of time for you to talk, wrapped in each other’s arms. Jack told you about traveling across the country looking for a home, working whatever drifter jobs he could get to pay his way. You asked why here, why this town, and he said it was the first one that felt anything like home. The people helped, and the slow discovery of who he was with free will did the rest. 

Jack in turn learned about you, the real you that he never truly got to meet. The things you like to do, the places that make you happy. It strikes you as a shorter list than you thought, the things you left in your small apartment barely taking up space in your heart. In this house, a rekindling has taken place and a warm fire now burns in your hearth, well tended. 

When Jack left to let Russell out, as bare as the day he was made, you laid back on the bed and contemplated the life Jack built. Years of grinding away at a job that kept you comfortable but unfulfilled paled in comparison to the muscle memory of a hard day’s work. Could you find happiness in taking up reins and helping the community around you? Or had you been so far gone from it that you’d make a mess of anything you touched?

Jack returned soon after, his nonchalant nudity heating your skin.

“I have dessert if you’d like something sweet,” Jack said, smirking a little at the end. 

“I’ll take anything you’re offering, handsome.”

It took another hour before you actually tasted the peach cobbler Jack made, sitting on his lap in nothing but a sheet wrapped around the two of you. He warmed the cobbler first before drenching it in cream, and the spiced sweetness tasted even better on his tongue. The last thing you remembered before drifting off back in his bed was the slow devotion of hands on your skin soothing you to sleep.

Now his head is thrown back on the pillow, lips slightly parted and eyes shut. You watch his profile bathed in morning light. The perfect curve between his nose and chin to fit your lips. The stretch of his neck to his chest rising and falling. One hand lays on his stomach, fingers curled in lazy artfulness. 

Do androids dream of electric sheep? you think briefly, reaching out to touch the strong line of his bicep. You trace from his shoulder to the dip by his elbow, baby hairs along your path standing up. Blue-green veins are barely visible by his wrists, the smooth expanse of his chest dotted with freckles. He’s imperfect, and that’s more amazing to you. Every bit of him unique, down to the spots around his chin where no stubble grows. You wouldn’t know him to be anything but real.

He is real, you scold yourself. Every part of him is real, and true. He just didn’t grow into his body the way you did. The scars that detail your history, the stretch marks, the bends and breaks of a body worn by time, yours is happenstance and circumstance. His is purposeful.

Your touch slides over to lay your hand over his. The rise and fall of his chest makes a soothing pattern with his heartbeat.

Rise

Ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum

Fall

Ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum

Jack’s hand flexes open, and you slide your fingers between. He pulls your joined hands to his lips and presses a kiss on your knuckles, a deep sigh precluding his head turning in the pillow.

“Morning Sugar. You sleep okay?”

You nod, scooting closer to him and pressing a kiss of your own to his shoulder.

“Best I’ve slept in weeks.” You’re not lying. Not an ominous dream in sight. 

“Me too,” Jack says, rolling to his side and pulling you into his embrace. His shoulders block out the harsher rays, a halo of light illuminating his fluffy bedhead. You run your fingers through it absently.

Not a hair on his head that wasn’t put there. Not a thing on him that wasn’t done on purpose. And not a single part of it looks manufactured. 

“You’re thinking awfully loud this early in the morning,” Jack says, stroking the small of your back. You consider what saying anything in this quiet moment could mean, but you both have come so far in just one weekend. It’s time for you to be as honest as he’s been.

“There’s still a part of me that tells me you can’t be a host. That you’re so perfectly imperfect that nature must have made you.” Stroking long paths through his dark locks, you worry at your lower lip. “Is that bad, that I can’t help but think it? You’ve proven it all to me several times over, it’s just…it’s still something hard to believe, I guess.” 

Jack’s eyes drift off, chewing the inside of his mouth before he sits up against the headboard. You come upright too, and he guides you between his bent legs. You let yours fold over his thighs, sitting face to face as he holds your hands in his.

“Does it make it harder, not seeing the machine?” he asks. You soothe him with your thumbs.

“I wish I could say it didn’t. Everyone suspends their disbelief in the parks, right? But we all know that it’s not real.” You study Jack’s face carefully. He’s not upset, or hurt. There’s something resolute in his expression. “I guess it does make it harder for me. I like to understand, and it’s hard not understanding how this all works.”

Jack nods, squeezing your hands tighter.

“What if I could show you exactly what’s at the center of me?”

His eyes stay locked on your face, and you realize he’s giving you something exceedingly precious. It’s not to be handled lightly.

“Maybe I should just have faith,” you acquiesce, smoothing your thumbs along his knuckles. He squeezes again to draw your attention.

“It’s okay,” Jack says, eyes soft. “I’ll show you.” He waits for your nod.

Settling himself against the headboard, he ticks his jaw and takes a few grounding breaths. The calm warmth of the morning becomes stifling, your palms sweaty as he holds one in his hand.

“What I’ve learned from all the manuals and the programs is that you can’t tell. You’re not supposed to. Everything’s realistic except for one thing. They never saw much use for making it look like a brain.” Jack presses his thumb into your palm. “Once it’s not in contact with me I’m gonna freeze up, Sugar, so put it back when you’re done.”

Your heart hammers in your throat. “Jack, what is it?”

Jack’s smile quirks up in the corner, but you also catch a thin veil of fear.

“Maeve called it a pearl. Made it sound valuable. Precious.” He holds your worried look, chucking a knuckle under your chin. 

Then his hand falls, and he changes.

Bloodless seams crawl across his face, his eyes going glassy. One splits his face down the center, drawn along the curve of his nose through the dimple in his lower lip. The corners of his lips extend up to his hair, slashing across his cheekbones. Another traces his jawline, the folds of his jowls. A series of small clicks and whirs precede the seams widening, and Jack’s face opens to reveal a smooth white skull beneath. No gore, like a mask peeled off in sections and pulled away for inspection by tiny armatures. Your stomach drops, nausea threatening your throat but you swallow hard. The eyeless skull smiles back at you before you notice another series of cracks, and the second layer breaks open. The skull separates into four quadrants, and from that fissure extends a cylinder presenting a smooth metallic ball. Prongs hold it tight against the protuberance, and you startle when Jack’s hand reaches in to pluck it from his mangled face. Thick fingers grasp the shiny surface as he guides the ball to your palm. 

It’s warm against your skin, sinking into the cup of your hand. You open your mouth to say something but the moment Jack’s hands leave the reflective surface every tiny motion stills. What was once solid flesh beneath your legs is hardened marble, not a tremble in his frame. Heart racing, tears well in your eyes as you study the fractured man who’s put his whole trust into the palm of your hand. 

“Jack?” you whisper, but nothing moves. The stillness roars in your ears, hands shaking with the pearl clutched between them. Cautiously, you let your fingertips roam the edges of his face, stomach rolling at the uncanniness of seeing something so human turned inside out. Your fingers are shaking, pressing against his chest for a heartbeat that’s eerily absent. He’s a statue, nude and serene.

Finally, you turn your attention back to the pearl in your hand. It’s hardly the size of an egg, black as obsidian and smooth. Your reflection warps back up at you, parted lips quivering as you study it. This must be what makes Jack work. This sphere holds his memories, his quirks and tells, and even though saying it out loud would make it cliche, his soul. 

To Delos, searching for their rogue host that’s become troublingly sentient, it’s probably worth millions. But to you, it is infinitely precious. You will never be shown trust this deep, this endless, by anyone else in your lifetime. Jack willingly put his life in the palm of your hand. What could you possibly do to show him that trust, that faith, that love in return?

It comes to you in another breath. Oh Jack. He’s given you exactly what you need to prove it to him. Leaning down, you bring your cupped hands to your lips and press a kiss to the pearl. He’ll never know, never see this moment, but you’ll know that your devotion is etched on his soul. Letting your lips brush it once more, you whisper.

“I’ll always hold it, Jack.”

Just as he did, you place the pearl into its delicate cage, watching with fascination as it retracts back into Jack’s head. The pieces of his skull pull together, and slowly he becomes the man you love once more. When the final piece clasps shut and Jack blinks, you throw yourself into his arms, straddling him breathlessly. His hands come up to soothe along your back, inhaling your scent as you fight back tears.

“Feels like it took a little while, did you drop it?” Jack tries to joke, the rumble of his chest soothing after feeling it so still. When you don’t move he pulls you in tighter, pressing kisses by your ear.

“Was it too much? Sorry, I should have…” he starts to say, but you silence him with your lips. He lets you lead, gripping his face and tilting his head back to inhale him. He reassures you between devotions with murmurs of “I’m here, Sugar. I’m right here.” When he guides you to your back, tangled in sheets and legs until you’re not sure where you end and he begins, he whispers, “I’m here.” And when he sheaths inside you, cradling you against him he groans, “Here, right here.” 

Beneath your hands he’s pulsing, gasping, trembling. Alive. Jack. Your Jack. Always.

When you finally untangle, sated and drained, Jack lets you make breakfast. Fresh eggs and toast, a crumble of bacon for Russell before you serve yourselves. Across the table Jack still manages to touch you, foot pressed inside your ankle reassuringly. 

It’s so easy to imagine this as any morning. Maybe you’d follow it with chores, prepare for the week ahead. Outdoor work until the sun is too hot, making plans around cold drinks in the evening. Every night a heartbeat under your hand. 

“Still thinking loud, Sugar,” Jack interrupts, his crooked smile playful but you glimpse trepidation in his brow. It’s Sunday after all, and with that comes the “real world” you both alluded to all weekend. Pushing around the last remnants of eggs, you contemplate.

“I’d like to take a walk around, clear my head a bit,” you say, letting Jack’s nod reassure you.

“Maybe let Russ out, he’s been cooped up all night and we haven’t been paying a lick of attention to him,” he says, scritching the terrier behind his ears. You rise and lead a doting Russell to the front door, Jack lingering in the kitchen. Throwing him a smile over your shoulder, sunlight greets you on the patio.

Russell bounds out and off to run a few circles in the yard, a blur of white and brown. Your feet take you aimlessly, thoughts clouding your vision.

Before you left, you knew it was possible that seeing Jack would change things. You prepared for a conversation about what might happen when the weekend ended. There were possibilities lined up neatly for scrutiny. You could stay in touch, visit each other. The care you felt would have time and distance to grow. Then, when you knew each other better, you could take that next step and meld your lives together. Most likely something closer to what you live now, allowing you to straddle the line between the “real world” and Jack’s new and improved Sweetwater. It all sounded feasible, rational, reasonable.

Looking up, you realize your restless feet took you back to the barn, and right up to Daybreak’s stall. She lifts her nose over the gate, knocking you in the shoulder playfully before allowing you to stroke her snout. The sharp scent of horse fills your lungs, tamped with sweet grass and hay. When you scratch along her muzzle she snorts, whuffling at your pockets for treats. 

“Sorry girl, next time,” you promise. 

That’s when you realize how easily next time came to you, and how soon it felt. Not next time as in six months from now. Or three months. In your heart, now truly open, you know what your answer will be to the unspoken question hanging over your visit. Pressing your forehead to Daybreak’s, you smooth your hands along her graceful neck.

“Thanks, girl,” you murmur, her soft huff a comfort.

Jack is standing on his porch when you exit the barn, trying his best to look nonchalant but his tells are all on display. Hand on his hip, fingers clenching too tight. Jaw ticking back and forth. The smile he gives you fighting to reach his eyes. You mount the steps and slide an arm around his waist, reveling in the relief of his embrace. For a long minute he just holds you, your head on his chest to listen to his stilted breaths. Finally he pulls back, eyes shining.

“I’m…so glad you came,” he manages to get out, rubbing his hands firmly up and down your arms. It clenches your heart, watching him struggle. You open your mouth but he motions for a moment more.

“I know we didn’t start off quite the way either of us hoped, but now, with everything out in the open and all that you’ve seen, I hope you’ll consider my proposition.” A smile tugs at your lips but Jack’s railroading mouth keeps you grounded. 

“I know there’s a big world out there for you, and you’ve got a place in it. And here’s just a small slice of life that most people never even think about. But it’s mine, and I…I want you to know it’s mine to give. To you. You can have as much of it as you want. Because…” Here Jack takes in a breath, and you take his face in your hands. “Because I can’t go with you. I tried a few times, but I kept having close calls and near misses of being found. Just coming to see you was a risk, one I’d gladly take a thousand times over, but I can’t live like that. It’s here or someplace like it, and I wouldn’t ask for you to give up everything…”

“Jack,” you interrupt, tilting his gaze back to yours. Stroking your thumbs down his five o’clock shadow, you let him know exactly what you’ve already decided.

“I’m not going back.”

His face contorts in confusion, then dismissal.

“Sugar, you can’t…” You press a thumb against his soft lips, mustache tickling the tip.

“I’ve been waiting for something to tell me I made the right choice, and that all the pain was worth it. This is it. You are my choice. This, everything, is my choice. I’m going home to pack, get everything sorted, then I’ll come back.” Your throat closes up, but you manage to eke out the last words you need to say. “Then I’ll come home, if you’ll have me.”

Jack’s hug is bruising, all-encompassing and breathtaking. 

“Sugar, my god, yes, we’ll have you, I want you.” You choke out a laugh into his shoulder, dizzy with the lack of oxygen and the elation of Jack’s embrace. He spins you around, Russell’s faint yips on the edge of your consciousness. When he releases you there’s a moment to take in a breath before Jack’s mouth slots against yours and steals your air again. He cradles your cheeks, pulling away just enough to look at you with wonder before stealing another. The sun feels like it’s at a whole different position in the sky before he relents, tucking you into his chest and letting an enormous sigh empty out. 

“I’m sorry it won’t be an easy life with me,” he says, fingertips light on your skin.

“Did I ask for easy?” you tease, inhaling the soap, sweat and sun-baked scent of Jack. “Whatever might come, it’s worth it.”

“I’ll spend my life making sure of that, Sugar.”

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