#magpie instincts made me do it

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for ItsOleander behind the cut; a fake cryptid and a real romantic. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

. . . ‘diamond’, the Batman repeats skeptically. Tim radiates embarrassment, then pulls a bright, shiny stone out of his hidden belt to show to it. The Batman tilts its head again. 

It’s a diamond, yes. An unusually large one, shaped more like a heart than any traditional cut. And it’s new, too. There’s no history to it at all, just faint traces of determined perfectionism and something a little hesitantly hopeful, all burnt in fire and care and pressure. And not something stolen or reclaimed, like one from a Cat would be. 

Though its new Robin tastes just a little bit like a Cat, doesn't he, it realizes. 

Hm. 

That’s different. 

diamond, the Batman says, leaning down to inspect it more closely. 

“He, uh, made it,” Tim says. “Like–for me? I mean, he thinks I’m–a bird, kind of, so he thought I’d like something, uh . . . shiny, you know? Like a magpie or crow or whatever, I guess. Or, um, possibly a penguin. Possibly he thinks I’m a penguin, given this is technically a rock. God, does he think I’m a penguin?” 

hm, the Batman says, frowning consideringly while Tim keeps muttering to himself in concern about penguins, which is understandable, because Oswald Cobblepot isn’t the kind of role model a Robin should aspire after. It’s never had a Robin who could make diamonds, but supposes there's a first time for everything. Not every Robin can do a quadruple backflip or deduce its summoning ritual either. 

. . . or jack tires off a car that doesn't even count as an actual physical “car”. 

Or . . . draw. 

The Batman–pauses. Frowns. 

None of its Robins draw. Why did it just . . . 

Its new Robin flies back up with Dick curled around his shoulders like a cape. Maybe he draws, the Batman thinks, flicking its approximation of eyes towards him. He made a diamond, after all, and cut it to shape. That’s . . . artistic, technically. The human kind of “artistic”, anyway. 

Humans have very strange ideas of what counts as artistic, but the Batman supposes that’s just how humans are. “Just how humans are” has been a necessary thing to internalize, at this point in its existence. 

. . . it still doesn’t know how Jason got the damn tires off, even now. 

“Um, hi. Again. Sir/ma’am. Ma’am/sir?” its new Robin attempts as he lets Dick back down on the ledge, looking nervous. Tim was nervous to meet it too. Dick was too grief-stricken and angry for anything like that, though, and Jason just wasn’t afraid of it at all. 

And . . . 

And–it doesn’t know why it thought “and”, there. It hasn’t had another Robin. There was Batgirl and now there’s the Spoiler, but . . . 

There’s no reason to think “and” there. 

But it thought “and” anyway, didn’t it, it notes, and files that thought away in the place where its mind would go. 

If it had one, obviously. 

“Baaaaatman,” Tim hisses, Robin’s voice layered back over his own. 

“Batman,” its new Robin repeats, then puffs himself up like he’s displaying plumage he’s not wearing–his colors are bright, at least, but not the right colors; not colors meant for flying. The Batman appreciates the instinct, at least. “Um–I’m Superboy! Hey! Nice to meet you!” 

The Batman glowers. Dick, inexplicably, starts sniggering, and Tim makes a pained sound. Its new Robin–not Superboy–looks more nervous, hiding his hands behind his back. The Batman resists the urge to sweep off to go screech at Superman. Barely resists, but resists. 

Its new Robin is just as new as the diamond he made, though, and clearly worried about its reaction. It doesn’t want him to get the wrong idea. 

It’ll screech at Superman later, though. 

meet, it says, leaning forward over the ledge and letting the shadows of its cape wrap underneath its new Robin’s legs, just in case. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to catch. 

A net. 

Obviously. 

He’s still flying wrong, after all. 

Its new Robin peers down at its trailing cape of a net curiously, looking interested, and then peers at it instead. 

“Huh,” he says. “You’re way nicer than everybody said. Well. Everybody except Superman, anyway. He says you’re super-nice.” 

Hm, the Batman thinks grudgingly. Alright. Maybe Superman isn’t trying to take its new Robin. Maybe he sent it its new Robin, after he woke up alive again and found him flying around Metropolis without a net. That, admittedly, would be more in line with Superman’s usual behavior. And general . . . “Superman”-ness. 

The Batman really does not understand Superman. Superman is a thing of Metropolis skyscrapers and alien skies and rolling farmlands and blazing sunlight, though, which are all far beyond the Batman’s sphere of influence and comprehension, so that’s hardly a surprise. 

It does make more sense if Superman sent it its new Robin, though, as opposed to trying to steal him, so the Batman is somewhat mollified by that. Even if its new Robin apparently doesn’t know his own name. 

. . . ah, the Batman realizes, and tilts its head slowly. 

Not “doesn’t know”. 

Doesn’t have. 

diamond, it says, and its new Robin immediately looks flustered. 

“Oh, uh, I just thought Robin’d like something shiny for his nest, maybe?” he says, and the Batman–pauses. 

‘nest’? it repeats carefully. Tim makes a mortified noise and hides his face in Robin’s wings again. 

“Um–yeah?” Its new Robin looks embarrassed. “I mean, I kinda just assumed he had one, I haven’t, like, seen it or anything. Like, I’m not trying to go into his, uh, private space or–um! I’m not doing anything weird, I swear!” 

The Batman tilts its head. 

The Batman has never seen one of its Robins nest. But . . . 

They grow, don't they, it's distantly reminded. Dick's grown into Nightwing, and Tim fits Robin's wings so differently than he first used to. 

Jason grew too, a little. For what little time it had him, anyway. That hot-tempered, fearless stray fledgling who could do his workings with nothing but scraps from the streets and a length of cold iron became a bright grin and gleeful energy and bold Robin-wings. 

But Jason only got to grow a little, so sometimes the Batman . . . forgets. 

They all grow, though. 

nest? the Batman asks again, looking to Tim. Tim doesn't lift his face out of Robin's wings. 

“Priiiiivate!” Tim hisses, and the Batman can sense the mortification rolling off of him in waves. The Batman frowns, leaning down over him to assess him more closely. Robin's talons give off the impression of dry, cracked wood and awkward mistakes layered over Tim's hidden hands full of carefully-hunted information, and it thinks . . . oh. Tim actually tried to. Didn't manage it, but . . . 

The Batman doesn't know how it feels about that. He's so young. Isn't he? Dick hasn't even nested yet; just courted and flirted and occasionally pined. 

“ROBIN nesssssts, now?” Dick teases, popping up on Tim's other side. Tim makes a strangled noise again and huddles in smaller on himself. The Batman frowns in concern. He doesn't feel injured, but . . . 

“Nooooot Nightwing's . . . busssssinesssss!” Tim hisses, snapping his teeth behind Robin's mask, then visibly sulks. “Stuuuuupid.”

The Batman frowns again. 

[mancer-in-the-abbey]

This coding course is kicking my ass, have some general ghoul headcanons, one for each of them

Phantom/Aeon: New Bug, as ever, strikes me as a “fake it till you make it” kind of guy. As such, it kinda makes me feel like he’d be a theater kid if given the chance, and although I think he’d get a kick out of musicals (Phantom of the Opera, ha ha), I think specifically he’d be into improv. Like, there is no chance his comfort show ISN’T Whose Line Is It Anyway. The minute someone introduced him to D&D, it’s over for everyone.

Aurora: I think she has a soft spot for classic opera pieces. It really lets her go all out in a technical sense, use her range to its fullest extent. It’s stereotypical, but her favorite aria is the Queen of the Night. It’s so damn fun to do this quick jumps in scale in such quick succession!

Sunshine: MASSIVE sweet tooth. Like, yes she knows her corporeal form is fragile and she needs to take care of it, and she does to some extent! She keeps very fit! But fuck if she doesn’t just devour a pound cake if she’s given the opportunity. Will absolutely get a hell of a stomach ache after, but in her mind it’s worth it. Hey, at least she takes good care of her teeth to match!

Rain: A fan of Dancing With The Stars! Though he himself is not known to be all that steady on his feet, he loves watching people who aren’t traditionally considered athletic be put into a professional dance setting and either crash and burn or get better over time. He honestly doesn’t care about the celebrity aspect in the least, barely pays attention to the slice-of-life interviews before the dances themselves, but MAN does he love to pick apart someone’s performance and try to guess what the judges will give before the scores are announced.

Cumulus: Wasn’t initially a gamer, she more preferred to watch those who were have fun in the ghoul common room, but she didn’t have much else to do during the pandemic so… yeah, she just CONSUMED everything Rain sent her way. Animal Crossing, Stardew Valley, Portal and Portal 2x Hades, the entire Resident Evil franchise up to that point, even DOOM Eternal funny enough. She’s kept up with since then, but still has massive fondness for Animal Crossing.

Cirrus: Loves gem stones and precious metals! She has a real crow instinct but is kinda picky about it, like she’ll get fixated on a shiny gold hair clip with rinestones on it but if it feels too cheep in her hands she’ll lose interest entirely. Even still, her jewelry collection is LARGE. One expensive magpie, that woman, but she shares with the other ghouls if they ask so it evens out.

Swiss: It doesn’t fully mesh with go-to interpretation of him but I once read a headcanon that posited Swiss being able to replicate sounds to an uncanny degree and I am bringing it back here because I love it so damn much, kinda plays into being a little bit of every ghoul. I like to think if you startle Swiss he’ll forget to use his normal voice and just goes straight to the sound effects board. Phantom accidentally pops in from nowhere? Sudden air horn blast. Dew tackling him to the ground? The sound of a car going past you. Mountain stepping on his tail? Fire alarm. Someone kicks him in the balls? Microphone feedback. For a while.

Mountain: He likes eating rocks and precious metals. It’s already a thing with some subsets of earth ghoul, but like for Mountain it’s at a higher level. His preferred snack is those semi-precious rocks you get at tourist attractions, he will just chow down on it like popcorn. When that’s not available, however, he uses salt to sate the the itch. Dude keeps a salt lamp in his room that he uses as a salt lick when no one’s looking. This also extends to novelty items MADE of salt. Those Himalayan salt shot glasses? One-use only. Go straight into his mouth.

Aether: One of those tricks Omega showed him during era 3 is how to use your own quintessence on yourself, something generally considered to be very hard to do amongst quint ghouls. Aether has tweaked and expanded on this ability and has learned how to… basically hotbox but with quintosis. Not something he does often cause it’s draining but sometimes it’s nice to unwind on a near molecular level. Among the few he shares this ability with are Dew, Mountain, and Swiss. He’ll teach the new bug when he feels he’s ready for that kind of power…

Dewdrop: is actually a really good cook! Like really good, actually. He got really into watching Food Network when he first came to Earth which evolved into watching older cooking shows. This further evolved into experimenting with his own recipes. He’s also taught Mountain everything he knows about how to handle the kitchen, so they tend to share cooking duty between the two of them. No one’s complained yet!

[breannasfluff]

Camp that night is an…experience. Hyrule’s mood has rapidly gone downhill as they leave the mountain behind. They’ve made it to the forest on the other side and stopped for the evening in the sparse trees. In the morning the flock will take their bearings and hopefully find the monsters they need to defeat.

By the time Wild gets his slate back and pulls out bedding, Hyrule is clucking and hissing as he paces the edge of the emerging nest. He snaps at Four when he gets too close and the bee-eater scuttles for the safety of Wild’s wings.

He folds the smaller bird inside them, snaking arms around his shoulders and hugging him close. Together, they watch through the gap in Wild’s wings as Legend negotiates bedding with Hyrule. What, exactly, the brown thrasher is upset about isn’t clear.

Flockmate, safe-with-you, Wild trills.

Flockmate, nest, yes, Four answers. “Think Hyrule will bite Legend?”

The magpie casts a critical eye over his sub-flock. “Nah, he’s more worried than anything. I wish we weren’t nesting on the ground…” That cave wasn’t comfortable, but at least it was up high.

Four sighs and leans back against his chest. “Think Sky would join us? His wings are so nice and big.”

“That sounds like a dangerous game, little bird.” Wild laughs at the affronted chirp he gets. “You did just ask me if Hyrule will bite Legend. He would bite Sky, and that’s on a good day.”

Four grumbles, feathers fluttering against the magpie’s legs. He doesn’t leave, though.

Finally, Hyrule and Legend come to some sort of agreement on the nest and climb in. Legend’s barely started a welcome trill before Wild and Four are piling into the blankets.

Hyrule starts a low hiss when Four accidentally smacks his face with his primaries. Well. Wild is giving the bee-eater a pass that it’s an accident, but history would not support it.

Finally, the passerines are bedded down in an acceptable order. Hyrule on the outside, Legend between him and Wild, and Four on the far side tucked under Wild’s wing. The Chain knows that Four isn’t a child despite his small size, nor do they treat him like one. Still, the lack of height makes him an excellent cuddle buddy for Wild, who’s already on the shorter side.

Time chirps a check-in and everyone answers, before settling in to sleep. At the back of Wild’s mind, instincts rankle. Nesting on the ground isn’t safe. There could be monsters. There’s no alternative, though, so the champion pushes the worry away and drifts to sleep.

Wild jerks awake to a warning shriek. For a moment there’s just noise and confusion and Four, thrashing as their wings tangle. Then Time’s sharp call of danger kicks them into gear. Still mostly asleep, the champion is running on instinct as he hauls himself out of the nest. Four is up but flapping his wings unsteadily, trying to orient to take off.

Then the roar and snarl of monsters jerks Wild fully awake. Adrenaline surges at danger and he spins, wings flaring. He needs to protect his flock!

Read the rest here

[bigein]

I hope you do write the explicit scoteng omegaverse because I for one would love to read it!

sorry anon, as befitting my age I was out at the pub this weekend but happy easter and here you go (it ended up more one-shot than pwp and is in need of a proofread but today is my last day off, Godspeed).

---

Alasdair's shoulders are hot under his vest, the grass damp under his knees. He'd shed every layer he could and by mid-morning he was left in his boots, the thick denim he wears in the garden, and the fraying cotton that stretches tight across his chest. The belt at his hips is strapped tight and he tries to focus on that instead of the way his thighs tense and his gloved hands dig into the earth with a shudder like he is cold. It comes in waves, the heat that has him bent and huffing like a beast in the garden, tearing at roots like he wants to tear at himself.

At least the air out here clears his head, away from the unsettled scents of the house and the sharp smell of wood polish. Alasdair would have chosen beeswax but it was Dai charged with the floors and he'd come back from town with a tin can, new brushes and rags. Compromise. They are trying their hands at compromise, and Alasdair is trying, damn the devil, but he is already at his wit's end and today--

He tears harder at the ground and grits his teeth; sweat pools at his back. The grass crushed beneath his weight smells fresh and young; the weeds sharp and the soil rich and clean. The plot behind the house (their house) is little more than a tangle of briars and unkept rows of mint and meadowsweet. It is better than the polish, better than Sean's cider-and-turf and Daffyd's muted amber. They are not so far from the coast that he can't imagine the salt-tang of sea-spray in the air, metallic on his tongue. Today it makes him want to spit on the ground and pant, bite into something sweet until the juice drips down his throat.

He clenches his eyes shut and exhales like it hurts, and, to his great, fucking displeasure, he knows it's Arthur coming down to the garden before he even calls down. "Are those my gloves?"

Damn the devil and damn them all with it.

"Oi!" Arthur's steps stomp down like he is still walking on ship-boards. "I said, are those--"

"They don't fit you right." Alasdair tears at a tangle of roots and feels like a beast.

Arthur had good instincts once, and enough sense to know when to turn tail, but the last century has made him stupid. Stupid and presumptuous. He'd left a lad and came back reckless with it, scenting sweet under the bite of his temper.

"They're mine." He stops where Alasdair dropped his shirt earlier and toes it with his stupid, polished work shoes. Stupid, stubborn, reckless eejit. "What are you doing out here, anyway? You said--"

"--Fuck off back into the house and let me be." Alasdair does not know if it is by grace of his own idiocy or the damp earth that Arthur seems oblivious to the stench of him. He can see the shape of him out of the corner of his eye; the light corduroy of his trousers. Alasdair's left hand twitches where it is buried in the ground, tempted by the give of his thighs and the heat between them.

"What bit your arse today?" Arthur sounds almost too surprised to be angry and Alasdair knows he should have just stalked off himself when the bottom of Arthur's shoe finds his hip, trying to unbalance him from his crouch in retaliation.

He is not being serious with it and some part of Alasdair knows that he must be out here out of some misplaced sense of concern. Otherwise he would have fucked off at the first bark and if he'd been trying to pick up a fight proper he would have come down hollering. Instead he is here, eyebrows furrowed and mouth pursed, hands relaxed by his sides instead of clenched into fists. He has been biting at his nails again, and taking his pick from the laundry hamper like a nesting magpie and Alasdair cannot stand the sight of him, and his scent... He lingers by in the evenings when Alasdair has his whiskey like an old friend. Prattles on about his plans for the garden and what he'll be growing by next spring. Gets underfoot and in the way and on Alasdair's nerves like he means to. His scent is in every corner of the house, strongest in the living room and the kitchen, and the threshold to his room; pressed into the clean bedding because he holds the sheets under his chin when he folds them.

He can tell the moment Arthur catches the scent of rut on him, a flash of shock and sudden heat across his cheekbones. Alasdair already has him by the calf and it only takes a push to get him on the ground.

They grapple. Arthur claws at his vest until he catches skin and then softens, the bite of his nails easing into a tight grip instead. He doesn't want to draw blood, Alasdair thinks, and it makes him feel light-headed to consider why.

He has his full weight on Arthur, one of his knees heavy on the inside of his thigh. He eases up, nudging Arthur's leg around his waist and raising up on his forearms to get a good look at him.

The blush across his cheeks is darker, bleeding down his neck into the high collar of the shirt under the stripped plaid he is wearing. He is breathing hard through his nose, chin tipped back to catch Alasdair's eyes, waiting. Clever thing.

Alasdair is still wearing his gloves, the suede rough and stained. He pulls them off, tossing them carelessly to the side and reaching down to edge up his shirt. He is bare beneath it, ribs rising in time with his breathing. His skin is warm, flushing under his gaze and softest under the swell of his chest, where Alasdair can feel his heartbeat. He flinches when Alasdair thumbs nipple, scenting anxious and aroused.

"You're a sight, like this," Alasdair says and means it. He wants to put him mouth on him, make him sigh.

"And you are..." Arthur squints his eyes, huffs and swallows and lets his head drop back. "I thought you smelled off."

Alasdair thinks of rot and dirt and iron. "Like?"

"Hot," Arthur's throat bobs, the movement strained with his neck stretched out like that. His thighs twitch against Alasdair's sides, like he can't decide whether he'd like to close them. Alasdair can smell the heat of him, stronger now. Maybe he's just squirming. "Yourself or, not yourself just... hot. I thought maybe sick but I didn't think--"

Alasdair shuts him up by pressing his lips to his sternum, has to reach down to fist himself at the first brush of skin against his lips. Arthur doesn't sigh so much as he just hold his breath, holding very still like he's still waiting to see what Alasdair will do next.

He drags it out to see how long he'll last, brushing his lips slowly down, then up again. He breathes warm against Arthur's chest like he is tempting the burn in his lungs until he can't help it himself and his lips leave a path of sucking kisses everywhere he can reach. Arthur bites back a gasp and twitches hard against the press of Alasdair's teeth, hands flying to find his shoulders. He keeps his hands there, like he might throw Alasdair off and knocks his knees against his hips. Alasdair lets go of himself and crowds closer, a hand on Arthur's thigh now, the other on his neck. The shift in weight seems to do something for him and he shivers falling limp again where he'd been tense. Or maybe it is Alasdair lips which find his neck, his jaw, leaving bruises where he can reach.

His hands get rougher and his hips roll down, against the inside of Arthur's thigh who sighs, finally, or maybe moans, the sound drowned out by the grunt of relief deep from Alasdair's chest when he finally gets the friction he needs. His hands find a purchase in Arthur's hair, his thighs, his waist, seemingly unable to hold still and hungry for the give of his flesh. It's Arthur who finally reaches out, first to tear off Alasdair's vest and then tugging at his belt, hissing until Alasdair gives in and helps him undo the buckle.

They both groan, Alasdair in relief and Arthur with a hitch, getting a good look at the thickness of him and thinking there is no way, there is no way--

Alasdair has him on his knees, bare chest to the ground before he can breathe a word, tearing his trousers and getting them halfway down his thighs before he crowds in close again. Arthur's calves are tangled between his and he reaches out with one hand instinctively to scruff him down against the ground. Arthur whines, low and aroused, and holds still.

He's small, Alasdair thinks, blinking stupidly down at the right bonnie sight between his thighs. Alasdair wants to lick him, suck him, finger him loose. He spreads him open with a rough grip and settles for sucking the taste of him off his fingers instead. They'll have time for that later, for all of it. Alasdair will make him sob on his fist before the week is out, will fuck him sore and full and his. Put a bite on him, where everyone will see. He doesn't have the patience now to take his time and he can't, he won't, his knot would--

I'll tear him, Alasdair thinks and he shudders, aroused and balking at the thought at once.

He reaches for his belt instead.

The tail of it whips against the tender edge of Arthur's thigh when he rips it off and he would have apologised if Arthur hadn't pressed his thighs together with a tight moan. If it leaves a mark he'll kiss it better and leave another later, later. He's panting like he's been running miles and needs both hands to do what he's planning, looping his belt around Arthur's tights and pulling the cinch tight enough that it will catch his cock between them like he needs. Arthur gasps and reaches back like it shocks him but he is shaking, wet and aroused and pliable when Alasdair drapes his chest against his back and reaches around to keep his head up with a fist in his hair. His jaw would be too low otherwise and Alasdair wants to kiss him, wants to mouth against his neck and his lips if he can reach them while he thrusts like a beast between his thighs.

"Good, be good," he mouths his praise against his jaw and slaps his thighs against the swell of Arthur's arse. Arthur sobs and fists the grass with one hand, reaching between his legs with the other to rub against Alasdair's cockhead and his, cupping them so they'll rub together and begging like the clever thing he is, already so good for him. Alasdair rewards him with his teeth, wants to eat him whole.

When he comes it's with a shout, one hand desperately reaching down to cinch his belt tighter and milk his knot. They are a mess of cum and slick; they stink of each other and the garden, rubbed filthy with sweat and grass. Arthur comes with a shiver and a sigh, tired and shaking and held up only by the grace of Alasdair's strength. His thighs will bruise.

It is a good thing that it is a warm spring; or warm enough at least that they won't catch their deaths sprawled out in the garden like this, lazy and sated. Alasdair's fingers find Arthur's hair again, kinder this time. He wonders about summer, and whether they can have the plot cleared and tilled before the weather turns.

He's dozing off, thinking about strawberries and counting the weeks till July when a shrill cry from the house startles him bad enough he's almost on his feet, cock wet and trousers stained at the knees, before he recognises Sean's voice.

"Is that me fecking shirt, you goddamned degenerate?!"

Next to him, loose and breathless, Arthur laughs.

[dwellinginsilence]

Just a few of my favorites to go along with my - 🪄Wizarding World Alphabet🪄 There’s also an empty one if anyone would like to copy and paste. Make sure to tag me so I can see!

divider by @cafekitsune

🦊Animagus: For most witches and wizard, their Patronus and animagus are very similar if not exactly the same, however there are some Patronuses that are magical creatures like dragons, thestrals, and such. There have been no reports of any magical creatures being an animagus. So, if a person’s Patronus is a magical beast, their animagus would end up being a magical animal closest to their personality that is not magical.  Sebastian’s animagus is a fox and they tend to be cunning, resourceful, intelligent, charming, a bit of a trickster, and (can be) manipulative.  Although, independent at heart, foxes are social creatures. They are playful, mischievous, brilliantly charismatic, able to speak to any and everyone and seamlessly blend in and adapt to any conversation or environment. They’re also very unlikely to sacrifice their personal beliefs for any reason. 

😱Boggart: losing his loved ones by death, but also losing them by him doing something (or not doing something). He does everything he can for his loved ones so they won’t leave him. 

🍎Class: Favorite class is Defense Against the Dark Arts. He’s always been intrigued by the dark arts and enjoys learning about them and how to defeat them.  His favorite teacher is Ronan. He enjoys Ronan’s jovial personality and his hands on approach to learning. His favorite spell to cast has always been Confringo. He is entranced by fire, enjoys the heat, and the amount of damage it causes. 

💀Dark Magic: has no objection to using dark magic until he’s an adult and has seen consequences. Even then, he thinks it’s important to know what someone is actually fighting against. And if he’s a professor, he isn’t afraid to ask his students the tough, morally gray questions. 

🌀Expecto Patronum/Patronus: If he learns the Patronus Charm before finding his significant other (SO), he’d cast a dragon. But he’s the type of person that his SO becomes his reason for everything, without losing who he is, so once he falls in love with his SO, truly in love, his Patronus changes to whatever their animagus form would be.  If he learns the Patronus Charm after finding and falling in love, he would cast his SO’s animagus form from the start.   His all consuming, obsessive, addictive personality would make his s/o the most important thing in his life and where all his happiest memories come from so it only makes sense that his Patronus would reflect that.  Dragon Patronuses are full of passion, ambition, instinct, impulsive, fury, power, and dominance and they’re often associated with fire. They can be temperamental and impulsive, but that’s what causes them to be fearful and respected. Dragons are fiercely protective and strong. They will face any challenge, even if violence is necessary.  They have good instincts, rarely regretting their decisions, and tend to keep their emotions encased tightly which could make them seem cold. They are natural leaders that don’t tend to back down when challenged. They have a strong sense of their own morals and stand firm in their convictions. 

🧹Flying: Loves flying. It’s one of the rare times he feels free. His broom of choice is the Wild Fire Broom which he worked exceedingly hard to be able to get. His obsession with fire is clear in his taste of brooms. He prefers flying by broom but will happily fly on a hippogriff, he never completely warms to thestrals but will ride them if necessary. 

🏏Game team: Favorite quidditch team is the Montrose Magpies, a Scottish team. 

🏠House: Slytherin but the sorting hat seriously considered Ravenclaw because of his curious nature. Not only did he want Slytherin because of Anne and his parents being placed there, but his ambition and cunning mind made the Hat choose Slytherin. 

🔵Imperio: his favorite unforgiveable. He rarely feels in control of his own life and enjoys that control over others. 

💼Job: He always wanted to follow in his parents footsteps and be a professor. After Anne got cursed he considers curse-breaking. He doesn’t want to be an auror because of Solomon. He distrusts them and refuses to be anything like Solomon. 

💋Kiss: his first kiss was first year. He charmed (nonmagically) a cute 2nd year Gryffindor into kissing him behind the Gryffindor bleachers during a quidditch game. Nothing came of it, but he remembers it fondly. 

🧠Legilimancy: he never is able to read anyone else’s mind, but he fortifies his mind enough to keep others out and break out of the Imperius Curse. 

🐉Magical beasts: He’s always been fascinated by occamys and would love to see one some day. 

📝N. E. W. T./OWL: barely studies and still manages to pass with “Exceeds Expectations” or “Outstanding” in all tests. 

🦉Owl: their family had one owl that he took care of after Solomon’s death since Anne left without notice or telling him where. The owl is a Great Horned Owl named Athena because both him and Anne love mythology. 

🌱Plant: Herbology isn’t his favorite subject, but he does see the purpose of magical plants. He loves how vicious the Venomous Tentaculas are. 

🏉Quidditch: will play and can play any position but his favorite and most skilled is beater. 

💭Remember: his favorite memory is when his parents took him and Anne on a picnic on the coast. It was their last family outting before their parents died. 

🩸Status:blood: Half blood because his mother came from a muggle family. Hates pure blood supremacy, one because he believes in judging someone on their character and two because he hates what it did to his best friend. 

🍬Treats/Honeyduke's: he’s got an insatiable sweet tooth, always charming the house elves for extra desserts. His favorite treat from Honeyduke’s are “Fizzing Whizzbees”. He hates Bertie Bott’s ever since Anne made him try a horrible one that he’s positive were dirty socks. 

❌Ugly bad habits: besides being a bit addicted to dark arts, he taps everything. With a quill or his fingers he’s always making noise. The boy can’t sit still. 

🙊Veritaserum: has no qualms about using the potion on himself or others. For as daring and carefree to break the rules as he is, he makes it a point not to lie. Maybe stretch and manipulate the truth, but never lie. So if he’s subjected to the potion, he’s confident that nothing would come of it. 

🪄Wand:  dragon heartstrings- most powerful wand core, capable of “flamboyant” spells. They learn quickly and bond deeply with their master, may change allegiance if won. Easiest turned to dark arts and prone to accidents because it’s temperamental.  14 1/4 inches- longer wands tend to choose bigger personalities. Unyielding- tunes itself to its masters preferences and usually won’t change even in the hands of another. Good for combat and healing magic.  Aspen- closest wood to white, best used for martial magic and charms.  Handle-green plaid, was his father’s handle. He refuses to use any other handle, ever. 

➕Xtra: He hates bullies so he tries to defend anyone being picked on. That’s also why he makes it a point to tell the house elves “thank you” and that he appreciates their work. It’s another reason why he hates Ominis’s family, because they bully everyone.  He can see thestrals not because his parents died since he didn’t witness it, because he witnessed a childhood friend drown. He’d gone to a lake with his friend and their family. His friend kept encouraging them to swim out deeper, but Sebastian had a bad feeling and tried to encourage them both back. His friend wouldn’t listen and kept swimming out. By the time his friend gave up and tried to follow Sebastian back, his friend had gotten a cramp and couldn’t swim any longer. Sebastian yelled for his friend’s parents but everyone was too late. His friend’s parents made it clear they didn’t blame him, but Sebastian always felt somewhat responsible. To this day, he won’t swim if he can’t touch the bottom. 

🤢Yuck: Even though he doesn’t mind Garreth, he tends to have a distaste for male Gryffindors. In his experience they’re aggressive and arrogant. (Female Gryffindors he has no issue with and thinks are bold and charming.)

😜Zonkos: he doesn’t tend to use pranks, but if he did his favorite would be frog spawn soap. One time, Anne took advantage of his sweet tooth and gave him hiccoughing sweets. He had uncontrollable hiccoughs for two days because of how many he ate. He still says the sweets were so good it was worth it. 

Divider by @cafekitsune

🪄Wizarding World Alphabet🪄

🦊Animagus: 

😱Boggart: 

🍎Class: 

💀Dark Magic: 

🌀Expecto Patronum/Patronus: 

🧹Flying: 

🏏Game team: 

🏠House: 

🔵Imperio: 

💼Job: 

💋Kiss: 

🧠Legilimancy: 

🐉Magical beasts: 

📝N. E. W. T./OWL: 

🦉Owl: 

🌱Plant: 

🏉Quidditch: 

💭Remember: 

🩸Status:blood: 

🍬Treats/Honeyduke’s: 

❌Ugly bad habits:

🙊Veritaserum: 

🪄Wand: 

➕Xtra: 

🤢Yuck: 

😜Zonkos: 

[pityroadart]

Hey, what is your process when making collages? How do you collect things for them, how do you decide on quotes and what to draw/paint on and such? I really enjoy them :)

Hello! That's a very good question, I do it so automatically that I'm not entirely sure myself — but since I caught myself in the middle of a cut-and-stick sketchbook session, let's dive into it.

First up, I collect scraps like a trash magpie. Always have done, always will. Any paper items that I enjoy the colour/shape/texture of. Nowadays I tend to enjoy things with bold primary colours or black and white, pages from old maths textbooks or encyclopedias, flyers from local exhibitions, fragile tape and shipping labels from parcels, scraps found on the floor, old shopping lists, slips of paper from inside medicine packets or covid tests etc, anything that jumps out at me.

I collect these things in the pocket at the back of my sketchbook, or in a drawer (I have a whole drawer dedicated to scraps — some picked up from six or seven years ago, and some from last week). I hoard them like some sort of paper-loving dragon.

Other things I like adding are washi tapes, stickers, cinema tickets, drawings (whether straight in the sketchbook or stuck in), and anything else flat enough to fit in there.

Here are a few older sketchbook pages (from about 2014) showing some other types of scraps I've collated and used, and I think you can see where my current style has grown from.

The second part of your question is: but how do I put them all together? Again it's pretty much instinctive by now, but here are a few things I look for:

- Do I have a theme for the page? Is there a central object I want to build around? For the recent star trek pages I shared here, I'd been to see TMP and TWOK at the cinema and glued my tickets into my sketchbook, so I knew I wanted to theme the page around them

- Is there a colour palette? Either I pick colours from my central object, or I decide on a colour palette myself. Nowadays I keep my colour palettes very limited - one or two bolder colours and a range of cream/white/black/grey - but previously I've set the palette as pastel rainbow colours for example, when those were the colours I was more drawn to

- What words, symbols or drawings do I want to add? This can be lyrics that have been stuck in my head or that fit the theme, phrases I've come up with, fragments of found poetry clipped from textbooks, drawings that fit the theme (e.g star trek screencap thumbnails in the first example), etc. They don't have to fit the theme perfectly, or make sense to an external viewer - the important thing is that *you* want them on your page

This image below is a fragment of an as-yet-incomplete page - in which I swatched some leftover watercolour paint onto the page, found it complimented the colour of a sticker from a parcel perfectly (the small circular sticker), then I added an interesting-looking image from an old encyclopedia, which reminded me of a line from a Mountain Goats song: "the low pressure system brings the breezes in", and I wrote out another line from that same song on kraft paper and stuck it in. So it makes sense to me, or maybe someone familiar with the song, but to the average viewer it just looks kinda cool and/or they enjoy the line I've written out.

Then the next thing is to stick everything together! I'll confess, I rarely do this in one sitting - I currently have multiple pages I'm working on, one started the other month and almost complete, one started two weeks ago, and one just started today. I add to it whenever I get an idea or find a scrap that fits. But I used to do the pages in one sitting, and that absolutely works too.

As to how I decide what goes where on the page, that's just intuitive! I've made collage-y type art for at least fifteen years now (and longer if you count playing 'cut and stick' with old magazines as a kid), and I've very much learnt what sort of compositions please me, and how to tell if something feels too cluttered or lopsided or too spacious. But the beauty of this part is it's all personal preference! Shuffle your scraps around before gluing them down, and see what works for you.

Sometimes I add text or drawings first and use scraps in between, sometimes I stick the scraps down first and fill the gaps with text or drawings - there's no one way to do it! And hey, if there's something you don't like, you can always tear it out or stick something over it, that's the joy of mixed media.

Anyway this was a bit long-winded but I hope it makes at least a little bit of sense. Go forth and play with scraps!

[solar-halos]

december prompt #4: scarf

mags and lucy gray fluff under the cut! <3

for context, i do like that lucy gray’s ending is a mystery bc the og lucy gray is a mystery, but i also love this pairing too they’re cute

“That scarf is so ugly, Lucy Gray.”

“Maybe it would be, Maude Ivory, if you’ve never been in love.”

It’s true. It scared her at first, to get close to another living human being, but Mags is so sweet that Lucy Gray could probably get drunk off it.

So maybe there’s some bias clouding her judgement, but Lucy Gray doesn’t think she’s worn anything prettier. It’s short and pastel, which is refreshing, because ever since they dragged her back to the Capitol they’ve been making her wear heavy garments with colors that are more obnoxious than they are colorful, so Lucy Gray appreciates the switch up.

She also appreciates how warm it is. Mags needed something to occupy her hands after she won, and all those fish hooks she procured out of thin air were impressive-looking, but Lucy Gray was running out of room in her house in District 12 for all the momentos Mags slipped into her pockets every time they had to go their separate ways.

And don’t even get her started on her room in the Capitol. Lucy Gray is pretty sure their shared apartment is more sheet music and fish hooks than actual furniture.

Speaking of their Capitol apartment, Lucy Gray resists the urge to splay herself across the couch and rest her head on Mags’ lap. When they were just friends, she learned the hard way that she shouldn’t disrupt her in the middle of a project. She learned the even harder way that she shouldn’t disrupt her knitting.

Lucy Gray smiles, half-paying attention to the tea she’s stirring. Knitting is so old-fashioned, but that’s what the Capitol says about her and all her songs, so Lucy Gray doesn’t have much room to talk.

Not that she doesn’t think Mags shouldn’t do it—it’s important for victors to stay busy, and if Lucy Gray is being honest, she likes flaunting all the parting gifts Mags makes for her.

“Hey, baby.” Lucy Gray sets down their tea, glancing down at the tangle of yarn draped over Mags’ lap. “Want something warm to drink?”

No matter how deep in the zone Mags is, she always makes time to glance back up at Lucy Gray and smile. Lucy Gray really likes that about her. “Thank you. Chamomile?”

“Mhm.” Lucy Gray takes a seat next to her girl, nestling into her side. Even though she and Mags haven’t been anywhere near the districts for about a week, Mags still smells like sea salt and ocean breezes. Lucy Gray likes that about her, too. “I know you’ll need the rest. How long have you been working on that?”

“Since the last time Ravinstill dragged us up here for the Feast pitch the Gamemakers were working on. And it still looks like this.”

Lucy Gray doesn’t know what the big deal is. Sure, it’s a bit lumpy if she squints, and there are a few stray pieces of yarn poking out from the stitches if she stares at it really hard, but that’s what makes it such a bonafide work of art.

Mags seems unconvinced. “I think you love me too much.”

Lucy Gray clutches a hand to her heart, as if she’s wounded. The Capitol can take a lot from her, but they’d never take away her natural instinct to engage in theatrics. “Impossible!”

“You do, or else you wouldn’t wear so many of these things at once.”

“District 12 can get really cold, magpie, I've already told you that.”

“I’m glad you don’t mind all the mistakes, then. Scarves are supposed to be the easiest things to make, and every piece I’ve made is defective one way or another.”

Mags glares at her lap, throwing the scarf toward the other end of the couch. Lucy Gray tries to keep a straight face. Theatrics are instinctual for Mags, too. “You know what I think?”

Mags rests her head on Lucy Gray’s shoulder. “What do you think, my love?”

My love. Lucy Gray takes a silent moment to get giddy over that. “Nothing's ever made to be perfect. Not even music—that’s what makes it so unique. And all your pieces are unique, ‘cause every mistake captures just a little bit of your soul. All of the stuff Tigris makes nowadays looks so plastic and manufactured, ‘cause it is, but all your scarves scream your name.”

Lucy Gray retrieves the scarf, bunching the soft fabric up in her hands.

“See?” Lucy Gray says, carefully setting it over Mags’ neck. “Bonafide.”

“Bonafide,” Mags eventually agrees, the word sounding strange yet entirely right in her District 4 accent. “Just like my girl.”

“Flatterer,” Lucy Gray observes happily. “Feening for one of my kisses, sweetheart?”

Mags blushes, but after a swing of chamomile (it’s her liquid courage), she bobs her head up and down. Lucy Gray uses the scarf to lasso her in closer, more relaxed than she’s been in ages.

[runn0ft]

I was tagged by @goatsandgangsters 💕

rules: pick any 5 of your fics, scroll somewhere to the mid point, pick a line, and share it! Then tag 5 people. 

Since I don’t have five fics published, I’ll choose from my two fics and three wips. I know it’s shameful that it’s been like, three years and still haven’t posted anything I’ve had in the works in that time. I swear I work on them, I’m just constantly battling demons around it.

magpie - Boardwalk Empire, Charlie Luciano/Meyer Lansky

It occurs to him in that moment that over all these years, he’s been the sole recipient of what he considered to be Charlie’s misguided generosity. Sometimes Benny would move to take something Meyer insisted he didn’t want and Charlie would snatch it back with a snarl.

“I didn’t go through all this trouble on account of you.” He would say, and in his next breath he’d call Meyer an ungrateful little prick.

glass houses - Boardwalk Empire, Margaret Rohan, Charlie Luciano/Meyer Lansky

His associate, Mr. Lansky emerges looking decidedly more presentable not five minutes later. Unlike his partner, his face is inscrutable and there isn’t a stitch on him that’s out of place. As soon as Mr. Luciano stepped into the hall she’d had a pretty good idea of who might be in there with him. It wasn’t much to go on, but he hadn’t offered her anything beyond a curt “How do you do” after Mr. Luciano made a show of kissing her. She couldn’t fault him for it. Being in love was a difficult thing when you couldn’t lay claim to it.

milk and honey - Boardwalk Empire, Charlie Luciano/Meyer Lansky

Meyer pulls Charlie to his knees, and Charlie moves with him instinctively, reaching behind to guide Meyer’s slicked cock to his entrance. He plunges in with a single, fluid motion that has Charlie tearing at the rank, sticky sheets with his teeth. This is what Meyer lives for. The moment when he pushes passed that initial resistance before it gives and the molten-hot channel of Charlie’s eager body sucks him right in, enveloping him vice-tight and perfect.

“‘S good,” Charlie slurs, turning his head to catch Meyer’s eye—for permission—red-faced with tears gathering in those impossibly long lashes, looking absolutely ruined even with Meyer stilled inside him. “C’mon, give it to me.”

the sky in a room - Boardwalk Empire, Charlie Luciano/Meyer Lansky

Charlie was sweating under his tuxedo jacket, his waistcoat warm and humid with it. Charlie’s mouth fell open with a wet, strangled cry and Meyer gorged himself on the sound of it and the taste of wine on Charlie’s tongue. Charlie clawed at his back, his shoulders, and Meyer had moaned like a wounded animal at the blunt scrape of Charlie’s fingernails against his scalp. He heaved Charlie closer, ducked his head to bite at the hinge of his jaw, and Charlie went limp and pliant in his arms. God. How could he be expected to go without this?

“Meyer,”

It was Benny, one arm outstretched to keep the door propped open. His gaze darted briefly over to Charlie before it settled on Meyer, bemused but decidedly not shocked. To this day, Meyer doesn’t know if he’d ever walked in on them before. If he had, he never mentioned it, but their position was fairly damning. The two of them disheveled and breathing hard with just enough space between them for any kind of explanation to be thoroughly unconvincing. Meyer couldn’t imagine Benny saw it for anything other than what it was. He looked sorry for it, though.

untitled party angst - Boardwalk Empire, Charlie Luciano/Meyer Lansky

His fingers graze Meyer's sleeve. "Would you've let me cut in? If I asked?"

Meyer draws back to take a long drag from his cigarette. "I've got two left feet, Charlie." he says, gaze cast to the floor.

Charlie frowns at the incredulity. "That don't matter. I'd like all them big shots to know who you're here with. Wanna have you on my arm. Just once."

tagging: @portiaadams @fancykraken @johnmarston @cealtrachs @meyerlansky

[crunchkind]

this is what kassim looks like for my au I need to name but wen he comes back he’s a smoke dog kind of alright and he actually might be with the most re desighned thoughts cause originally he was supposed to be a Doberman a smoke one and then it went to a wolf to a head full of snakes to a crow to a wild African dog but than I got help from one of my friends as I was talking about this that an Indian African wild dog would be perfect cause they said balbad is based on india and I just put that to see if anything came up and surprisingly it did with a dhole wich I love the name of as well as most of balbadd being dogs cause of how loyal they are and how they always stick together and such wich I think fits most of the population and the dhole has this black effect at the end of there tail wich made me think of smoke wich I wanted to add to kassims desighn did I make it that good? No but you now what he’s somewhat smoke and it gets bad wen he feels any strong emotion but mainly negative ones wich make everyone COUPHG and kassim also has little magpie/crow wings cause I wanted him to steal golden things cause he has the instinct to do so

I tried my best to recreate smoke scars or scars that look like smoke cause he BASICALLY turned to dust so it would make sense that he would have and the one in his stomach is from wen he stabbed himself to become the dark djin wich is massive cause he did it a few times and yea

I would have put him in his Original clothes but I feel like alibaba wouldent want him in tattered whole in clothes wixh is why he has new ones and alibaba did find him I see him either going with alibaba like a bodyguard not really cause I’m pretty sure alibaba can slam anyone he wants if I’m gonna be honest bro beefed up but anyways that or he would try and join the balbad democracy’s kind of leader or help at least and visit alibaba

Kassim would honestly soften up I mean yes he would look scary but not as scary as he once did I guess he’d be more open and he’s probably super confused cause they changed the whole landscape and the islands im sure he’s utterly confused and the little weapon is just soemthing he got to protect himself cause he woke up without one and he doesant really need to smoke cause just needs to eat his hair I guess

Ive Probably got more but but just ask I’ll answer

This quality is ass if you want a better look at the scars just look on my page bro

[bikepack]

#57

I woke up to a curious family of magpies squawking at the foot of my bed. Frankly I’d slept terribly, waking up to someone standing close by at midnight (which crazy instincts from me to wake up by the way) they just seemed to be on a late night walk and probably didn’t even noticed me. The troubles with sleeping properly started from about 1-4am with screaming drunk teens going up and down the streets and throughout the park. Wednesday night small town cracktivities.

The milestone of reaching Dubbo wasn’t far off down the road today, just 40km. I thought I’d do more here but to my dismay it really was just another town, only a bigger scale of those I’d come through, the biggest since Melbourne. I got some groceries from Aldi and discovered a new shop ‘Big W’ where I got more tubes and upgrades for the bike. It was only 2pm and I hadn’t really wanted to sleep in the town so I made a plan to bike 30km east to Ballimore.

More tire trouble, but very last minute, a very common trend, allowing me to again limp the bike to my destination. While dealing with the punctures I installed my new lights and fancy dash. Very pleased with it all, the lights are 20 times brighter than my old ones. Camp was tenting opposite the pub. I appreciate how the pubs encourage free camping, even though I never went in.

[oriyamiryu]

“Mycorrhiza”

I dunno what Kind of mycorrhiza this would really count as? Should we consider it an extomycorrhiza with extraradical mycelial cords? Hmmmm well it glitters! and has a very confused infomercial on mycorrhiza too! Which is my warning that obviously I’m not an expert this is just info I collect for Fun and could’ve misread stuff yanno

Mycorrhiza - the symbiote relationship of a fungus and a plant (slime molds you affectionately) - of the funguses role in the plants rhizosphere (the layer of soil influenced by the waste products of roots and where the most soil associated microorganisms live - the root microbiome)

The bacteria and other microorganisms feed by grazing on the rhizodeposition - the casting off of old plant cells, adds carbon to the soil - and the secretion of proteins and sugars (called root exudates - a mucilaginous secretion of plant specific polysaccharides/long sugar chains, that stick to the tips of roots) While the roots provide the food the soil microorganisms and bacteria perform nutrient cycling (breakdown or reuse/reforming of organic or inorganic matter cyclically so that it can be used again for the production/creation of new biomass in the ecosystem? Water Cycle for example, lake water evaporates, condenses in the atmosphere, and then eventually precipitates back down into the environment again) and produce antibiotics needed by plants - right near their roots, since the soil microorganisms feed on the root exudates and then their own metabolic waste products are cycling or producing something of use to the plant in turn.

Hm hmm anyways Mycorhizza! Mycorhizza! Mycorhizzal Layerrre! So for mycorhizzal association symbiosis or mutualism or sometimes even fun and funky parasitism, the mycorrhiza fungus grows on the host plants roots tissues in either of two ways - intracellularly (taking place/involving the inside of a cell) or extracellularly (taking place/involving the space outside of the cells plasma membrane)

Arbuscular mycorrhiza (AM) fungus (AMF) is an intracellular version which involves the symbiont fungus getting into the cortical cells (of the cortex - an outer layer of a stem or root in a plant below the epidermis but beyond the vascular water veins) of the roots or vascular plants (so sorry mosses maybe next time bryophytes) to form arbuscules (sites of nutrient exchange in the mycorrhiza relationship) AMF are good at absorbing phosphorus, sulfur, nitrogen, and other stuff from the soil, so good in fact that it’s suspected that AMF eating up said elements and passing it on through the arbuscules to vascular plants is part of how vascular plants became widespread and prevalent enough to colonize most of the earth - the AMF mycorrhiza is the most common type of plant symbiosis out there, present in up to 80% of plants (Wao much fungus amongus plants and fungus are mutual(istic)s, besties even!)

Wikipedia: hyphal growth

Me: HYPHAE!!!! WE LOVE HYPHAE!!!

Let’s talk more about ✨Arbascular mycorrhizal fungus✨since it seems Fun ::3

So AMF comes to be in a nice three step recipe or spore germination (not dependent on host plants presence but can happen at an increased rate in the presence of root exudates - the polysaccharide or long sugars or proteins etc), hyphal growth (which is controlled - gasp! nooo fungus free thyself and spread hyphae everywhere! - by root exudates called strigolactones (chemical compound group created by roots, considered plant hormones - they promote mycorrhiza germination, get the host plant recognized As the host plant by the fungi parasites, and keep plant roots from budding too much into an energy deficient monster of a root system - Wao) and the soil-phosphorus concentration - lower concentration means more hyphal growth plus plant releases hyphal growth encouraging juice) and appressorium formation (appressorium is a special type of cell that is used for infecting host plants…. So this is the bit that worms it’s way into the cortical cells? Neat excuse me this shit can get through Mylar wtf fungus What Violence What Rage tis beautiful)

*points at chemotaxis* they’re in love your honor! (Platonically) - so remember how we said chemical signaling attracts the hyphae to gather to the host (also notably when host puts out come hither for symbiote purposes signals the hyphae grow in denser clusters around the host and when there’s Not they branch more) Anyways chemotaxis is movement of organism in response to chemical stimulus but it’s speculated the AMF fungus may experience host-specific chemotaxis (fig trees fig wasps fig trees fig wasps oh to evolve into codependency - is not my dream but live yours little arbuscular mycorrhizal fungi!)

Appressorium (burrows into your house and home) or infection structures (oh that’s such a Badass term) grows first on the epidermis of the roots (outside skin!!!!) then from there it punctures into the Parenchyma cortex (parenchyma in plants is the softer cell areas, so inside roots tough outside - it’s the nice chewy bits not the outside of the ginger you scrape off with a spoon yah Dig?) Once our Totally Not Invasive haha what’re you talking about it has benefits for the plants Shush Appressorium has gotten into the parenchyma the fungus super branches to form the arbuscule sites of nutrient exchange (the straw may be one hole - wasn’t that the mathematical answer? But it is bidirectional) arbuscule growth can be Paris type (coily! Going through cells to each new one) or Arum type (branched,in the spaces between cells) - which type depends on the host generally… since the host has a degree of control over the hyphal branching and arbuscule formation (the host says you may have Three sites of nutrient exchange and No More!!! Can’t disobey hospitality rules, that doesn’t abide by fae law after all oh dear does that mean mushroom are fae better go teach them how to Trick the host into breaking hospitality rules though that might be a bad idea as well)

OH THEYRE OBLIGATE SYMBIOTES? Nice hey wait that means they’re not super good at Saprotrophic nutrition?? But that’s onna the best sorts of extracellular digestion (phagocytosis is still winning because I’m fond of it) but!!! *oozes and digests decaying and rooting organisms* is such a close contender!!!! Oh well this burrowing stuff is neat too Dependent On Plant For Carbon Nutrition and all

Anyways! Let’s move onto ectomycorrhizal fungus!!! *singing* extracellular symbiote tiiiiime

Ectomycorrhizal (I have to sound that out in my head everytime I type it) fungus or EcM (eckem! May I have your attention) deal with around 10% of plant families (oh woah so AMF are tots winning huh) particularly Woody Plants! Like birches dipterocarps (who? Oh!!!!!!! Rainforest trees that’s ideal I love dipterocarps your branching system is very cool even if the competition is Tight), eucalyptus, oak, pine, rose families (rosaceae?), orchids (did you know some (is it most? All? Gastrodia?) orchids go through a stage of life where essentially their only source of nutrition is from their symbiote fungus? They can’t photosynthesize during this time so it’s the EcM feeding them OwO cool intersectionalism) and… other fungi from Basidiomycota (major subcategory or fungus, uhhh mostly Above ground when mature funguses it seems? Mushrooms, puffballs, stinkhorns, then a lot of living-on-plants fellows liek rusts (on leaves) and smuts (in the cereals) and more - filamentous fungi made up of hyphae with basidia cells (spore sites!) that gen produce four meiospores (haploid spores, meiosisized to quarter genetic information kinda? For remix purposes?)), Ascomycota (the Other big fungi phylum, in Dikarya (fungi subkingdom) sac fungi! Cause of the sac where they form ascospores which can move around on their own! Need for pollinators morels and baking yeast are sac fungi! Fun), and Zygomycota (an ex-phylum that became the phyla Mucuromycota (mostly mycorrhizal fungi and plant decomposers) and Zoopagomycota (often obligate parasites of other zygomycete fungi or animals, like nematodes NOOOO THE WORMS))

Some trees will have up to fifteen species of EcM in a symbiote with them (ahhhh????) also fun the EcM isn’t losing either cause while AMF have 80% of plant life there are only around 240 species but the EcM have approx 7750 species known but its suspected the numbers are closer to 20-25k (Wao!!!!)

Ectomycorrhiza grow in a hyphal sheath or a mantle around the end of the hosts roots and form a Hartig Net (net of inward growing hyphae that grow in between the epidermis and the cortex of the host, the space that acts as the site of nutrient exchange) sometimes despite being extracellular the EcM hyphae will penetrate the hosts cells, in which case it’s an ectendomycorrhiza mycorrhiza…. Outside of the mantle and root the EcM forms ectomycorrhizal extramatrical mycelium (or extraradical mycelium) which are filamentous hyphae that grow outwards into the soil with the ectomycorrhiza as the center point - the filamentous hyphae may be fine and hydrophilic (attracted to water) constantly branching in the soil to search for nutrients, or they may gather into rhizomorphs (or mycelial cords - parallel orientated hyphae, which are hydrophobic and strong for the purpose of transporting nutrients)

[theleftovertaco]

Petty Rivalry- Fred Weasley x Reader

I got an ask maybe 4 months ago asking me to write a fic where reader and fred are rivals and then they fuck but life's a bitch so I'm just getting to it now. Here u go lol. Made some changes so now the reader is a gryffindor chaser tho.

Warnings: smut, sub!fred, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kiddos)

"Weasley, you cunt!"

"Hey!"

"Not you, George. Sorry!" You shouted above the whooshing noises of the brooms around you. Fred zoomed past you.

"Not my fault you were in the way of a bludger!"

"It literally is your fault! Your job as a beater is to keep us safe, dipshit!"

"Oi! You two. Get your shit together before we lose!" Angelina shouted as she flew past.

You set one more glare Fred's way before flying off. Between bickering, dodging, and passing, Ravenclaw was catching up and close to winning as both seekers raced around the pitch in search for the Golden snitch.

As Potter seemed to spot the small golden ball, he flew past the two of you, and within a few minutes, the game was over.

Angelina pulled you aside after your team had celebrated, shoving a finger in your face.

“You and Fred need to get it together. If you kept arguing you could have distracted the other players and cost us our win.”

You rolled your eyes and batted her hand away.

"He's the one whos always being difficult, not me!"

Angelina scoffed, "You're both arseholes to each other. Get over yourselves. Either learn to cooperate or I'll be looking for a replacement chaser and beater." She turned away and walked off, you trailing frantically behind her.

"Ange!"

"Look," she turned back, "I love you both, but quidditch is important to me, and it could help me get an internship with the Montrose Magpies, I need to secure a win, or at least a well run team."

You paused for a second, then nodded.

"Yeah, alright, I'll talk to him later today after our celebration in the common room."

Angelina seemed to relax at that, clapping you on the shoulder than walking off to join the rest of the team.

You sighed, and made your way to Gryffindor common room.

..........................

Gryffindor's common room raged about with laughter, as food and shots of firewhiskey were shared (no one asked where that came from).

You took a deep breath, and walked quickly over to where Fred was standing.

"Hey."

He glanced over at you in distrust. "Hello?"

"How are you?"

"Fine, why?"

"No reason."

"Great."

"What's great?"

"You can leave me alone now is what's great."

You rolled your eyes.

"Look, Weasley, I was trying to be nice. Work things out so we could both stay on the team together."

"We wouldn't have anything to work out if you would get your head out of your arse for five minutes during our matches."

"Me? You're the one who keeps aiming bludgers at my head, you know you're supposed to aim them away, right? Or at least towards the other team, not someone on your own."

"They wouldn't nearly hit you if you weren't in the way!"

You barked out a laugh, "That's bullshit, I am perfectly fine with my job, or I would be if you weren't out to get me all the damn time!"

By this point, you were both attracting some attention, and Angelina dragged you away while Katie did the same with Fred.

"Both of you, knock it off."

You whipped your head around to look at her, "But I tried to make amends like you said, I even-"

"Leave it alone, plus, there's an issue in the main hallway we need you to come look at."

"Why do you need me?"

Angelina just dragged you further along.

"Ange, what kind of damn issue is so important that, aaGH-" You exclaimed as you were shoved into a closet, and a very tall figure.

"Who the fuck- ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME ANGE!" You saw Fred's equally pissed off face in the dim light hanging from the top of the closet.

"You two work your shit out, we aren't letting you out until you do."

Fred yelled out in frustration, banging on the door.

"KATIE, ANGIE, LET US OUT RIGHT FUCKING NOW!"

There was only light giggling in response, and you knew there was no way you were leaving that broom closet any time soon.

You spent the next ten minutes pacing the room, trying to find a way out of the closet.

"Can you stop pacing for five seconds? It's driving me insane."

"I wouldn't have to if you hadn't gotten us locked up in here in the first place!"

"How did I get us here? Last I checked we both hated each other, so they wanted us both in here!"

"I was trying to be nice to you back there! To make amends!"

Fred threw his hands in the air.

"Well look where that got the both of us."

You stood face to face with him, eyes locking.

"Why do you hate me so much?" You asked him.

"Why do you hate me so much?"

You scoffed, "You can't just answer a question with the exact same question."

"Like hell I can. And you never answered!"

"Because I asked you first! I mean I just don't understand why it's so hard for you to just not be a dick." You turned your back and resumed your pacing.

"Y/N, it's not that, it's just-"

"Just what, because I am sick and tired of you acting as if I am the worst thing to ever happen to you, why do you hate me so goddamn much, I mean-"

"I DON'T HATE YOU DAMMIT! I LOVE YOU!"

You paused for a second, and turned back.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I've been attracted to you since second year!"

You took a second to process this information.

"So why are you such an arsehole then? For the past 5 years you have been!”

You rolled you eyes.

“Nope. Absolutely not. Liking me was not an excuse to be a dick. And don’t try some ‘I didn’t know how to express my feelings’ bullshit!”

Fred looked at you shocked.

“But… I told you that I liked you. And now I’m getting the feeling you might like me.”

“Thats… besides the point, and even if I did, that still doesn’t excuse you from being a dick, I only responded to you in the same way you always treated me!”

“Right, and I’m sorry for that, Y/N. Please allow me to make it up to you.”

Fred held you face in his hands, and you fought an instinct to jerk away.

“How the hell do you plan on making up for five years of assholery?”

Suddenly you were shoved back into the wall. Fred dropped to his knees, unbuckling your jeans.

“Please, let me make it up to you.”

He dragged your jeans down.

“Fred, what are you doing!?”

“Say the word, and I’ll stop. Please, let me make it up to you.”

Fred looked up at you with wide eyes, and you paused for a moment before nodding. He resumed, pulling you underwear past your legs, and lifted up one of your legs before diving into you.

“Fred, I- fuck!”

He dragged his tongue along your folds and nosed at your clit.

“Want you. Want your cunt, your lips, your body, please.”

You carded your fingers through his hair, dragging him closer to you.

“Fuck, want you too.”

Fred continued until you pulled him back up by his hair to meet you. You hastily unbuckled his belt and undid his trousers to take out his cock. Spitting in your hand, you ran your hand up and down his dick, causing him to let out a series of curses and moans.

He lifted you up by your thighs, and you placed his cock at your entrance, and Fred let out a whine as he pushed in.

“Fuck, love, you feel good.” He readjusted you in his arms and began fucking up into you, his thrusts making him hit that spot inside you.

“Fuck, Fred!”

The two of you continued for what seemed like forever until Fred hooked an arm under your leg and his hand wrapped around you so he could play with your clit.

“Fred, I’m gonna come.”

“I am too, love.” You felt your orgasm arrive and as you did you clenched down on his cock, causing him to release inside of you.

A few moments passed before he set you down, both of you breathing heavily.

“Your partially forgiven.”

“Partially? I just fucked your brains out, how am I partially forgiven?”

You let out a giggle.

“You take me out on a date, and I’ll consider you forgiven.”

Fred brought you into his arms, and laid a kiss on the top of your head.

“Deal.”

A moment passed, and after you both were dressed and had collected yourselves, you banged on the door to be let out.

“Angie? Kate, we’ve resolved our issues, you can let us out now!”

They opened the door, and as you both left you could hear them snickering.

Angelina shouted out from behind you, “Yeah, we heard you both resolving your issues from the other side of the door.”

Fred threw his head back half in laughter and half in exasperation while you stood there, red faced with your head in your hands.

“Next time, maybe resolve your issues in a bedroom?” Katie practically howled out.

“Shove off, Bell!”

[starlessea]

Move-in Day (Daryl Dixon/Reader)

Pt 3/3. Mini-Series Masterlist

Prompt: “If he so much as looks at you again, I’ll put him in the ground.” Requested by anonymous​, numbers #12 and #26 from this post.

Summary: Your ex boyfriend gives you trouble, and your current one sorts it.

Words: 3040

Warnings: Language, Violence, Past toxic relationships.

Usually, you were someone who preferred to solve their own problems. Whether it was stubbornly trying to carry all of your shopping to the car, back when the world was how it had been, or still trying to figure out where you'd misplaced that other sock - almost a week ago now. Even when the issue was a bit more serious, you would rather keep to yourself than ask for help. This time, however, you were left with no choice.

You felt the deputy's eyes on you, and nervously shifted your weight onto the balls of your feet. You were ashamed to ask him such a mundane request. The prison was a luxury in this new world; you had running water, your own room, plenty of food. Yet, you still pushed for that little bit more.

"I'm sorry to be a bother, Rick." You stuttered, and scratched the back of your neck shyly.

The man shook his head, but still wore a soft expression. He placed a hand to your shoulder, and you thought it was his own attempt to try and comfort you.

"Don't say that." He chided, but the look in his eyes remained warm. "We can sort something out for you, no problem."

The way he spoke reminded you of that night you'd eavesdropped on him consoling Daryl. He had that type of manner - one that could instantly make people open up, and trust him completely. You gave the man a smile to show your gratitude, and he squeezed your shoulder once more before removing his hand.

"Thank you." You said quietly. "It means a lot."

The officer hummed in response, but you noticed his gaze flicker above your head.

"I think someone's here to see you." He noted, his lips turning into a teasing grin.

You whipped your head around to see Daryl leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. He appeared to be waiting for you, but you hadn't even heard him come in. You thanked Rick a final time before excusing yourself, following the other man out of the room.

It seemed like he'd just come back from the run. He went quite regularly, and it had almost become a tradition for him to find you as soon as he returned. He'd always make some excuse as to why he needed to talk to you, but it was nice just to have the reassurance that he was safe.

As the two of you rounded the corner, out of view, you felt him slip his hand into yours - and you interlocked your fingers together.

"What was tha' about?" He asked, stopping at the end of the hallway.

He leant against the corner where two of the walls connected, and pulled you closer to him so that your chests almost touched. This seemed to be part of your unofficial ritual, too. He always liked to hold you after you'd been apart, and you always let him.

"I asked Rick if I could move to another cell block." You answered, stroking over the back of his knuckles with your thumb.

The man had his other hand around your waist, and he was so close that you noticed the subtle change in his expression instantly.

"Why's tha?" He mumbled.

His eyes were locked onto you, running over your face like he was trying to map every detail there. You tried to reply, but felt unsure of the explanation you should give. Daryl must have noticed the way you bit your lip, or glanced to the side every now and then, and you felt him rub circles over your hip to try and coax an answer from you.

"He's harassing me again." You finally admitted, your voice small and quiet. "Whenever I come back."

It wasn't often that you spent a night in your own cell, but every time you did, you'd find your ex linering about outside of it - like a reminder of what you'd left behind. You even locked the cell door on those nights, shuddering before you fell asleep like you could almost feel his eyes through the walls. Most of the time, he just leered, but sometimes he made remarks that left you feeling itchy.

"Thought it would be better to just put some distance between us." You added, awaiting Daryl's response.

It was just as expected. The man's jaw clenched, and his eyes flickered over your shoulder as though he was looking for someone.

"That bastard." He growled out lowly.

"It's okay." You reassured him, pressing your chest further against his.

You gave him a sweet smile to try and conceal your own worry, but he didn't seem completely convinced.

"Out of sight, out of mind." You told him. "I'll be gone soon."

The two of you stood in that little corner for a few more minutes, secluded from the rest of the prison as you enjoyed each other's company. It was rare that you got to spend a lot of time together during the day - which is why you often crept over to his cell when the night rolled around.

"Why don't ya jus' move into mine?" The man mumbled after a while.

You weren't sure whether you'd heard him right, so you took a small step back in shock.

"What?" You asked dumbly, and the man shook his head.

He suddenly seemed a lot more nervous, possibly out of fear of you rejecting him.

"Well, yer there every other goddamn night." He grumbled.

"Sorry." You whispered back, offering him a sheepish smile.

It was true. Oftentimes, the part of your day you looked forward to the most was slipping into his cell after everyone else had fallen asleep. You’d wait to be able to lie together in an entanglement of limbs, and feel his warm breath over your cheek as he drifted off.

You looked up at the man, but he glanced off to the side shyly.

"Didn't say I minded, did I?" He corrected himself.

Daryl seemed almost as flustered as the night you’d confessed your feelings back to him. His fingers had stopped tracing patterns over your waist, and he could barely meet your eyes when you looked at him.

"Are-" you whispered, before clearing your throat. "Are you sure?"

He certainly looked sure, but you wanted to check. Daryl Dixon was too caring for his own good sometimes, so you wanted to give him the option before he was stuck with you for good.

"Wouldn't ask if I weren't." He replied, more confidently this time.

You couldn't help the grin that spread over your face, and hooked your arms around the man's neck so that you could pull him down to you. Your foreheads were almost touching, and so you pressed your nose against his and smiled against him.

"Okay, then." You said, finally giving him that kiss he seemed to be waiting for. "Guess this is officially moving day."

You felt giddy as you packed your belongings into boxes. There wasn't that much, but Daryl was like a magpie when he went on scavenging runs - collecting any small trinket he thought you might like. After he'd asked you to move in with him, he'd left to go and inform Rick that you wouldn’t be needing another cell. He still had a few things to do, but he'd promised to come and help you carry your things once he was done.

You picked up a small, metal keyring and placed it into the box. It was shaped like a dog, and the tail wagged backwards and forwards if you flicked it. Daryl may have thought it was tacky, but after you'd told him that you liked animals, he'd come back from his trip with it. You laughed at the memory, before turning around to retrieve a pile of clothes.

"Where'd you think you're going?" A voice slurred, but you didn't need to look to know who it was.

He sounded like he'd been drinking. You wondered where he had even gotten the alcohol from - since he was too cowardly to ever tag along on runs himself.

"It's really none of your concern." You snapped back, not even glancing over your shoulder to look at your ex.

You folded a t-shirt in your hands and placed it into the box, but he caught your wrist before you could pick up the next one. You could smell some sort of spirits on his breath even from where he stood, and cursed yourself for not remembering to lock the cell door when you came in.

Finally, you looked in his direction - staring at him in disgust. You hadn't come face to face with the man in almost a week, but the sight of him still made you shudder. It was like whatever you had seen in him at one point, back when you were young and naive and just didn't know any better, had all faded away.

"Don't be like that." He chided, wearing that familiar smirk that never failed to get under your skin.

With his other hand, he tilted your chin up forcefully - so that you looked directly into his narrowed eyes.

"You always were much too pretty for your own good." He muttered to himself, holding your jaw firmly between his fingers.

The words made you feel sick, and you wasted no time in slapping away his hand. The sound rang out and echoed against the walls of the cell, and you saw that ugly scowl plague his face like thunder as soon as you had done it. You knew what followed thunder, so you took a nervous step back in anticipation. You hadn't wanted to give him the satisfaction of cowering in fear, but you'd done so on instinct - like it was an action well out of your control.

Except, nothing came. No harsh words were spat at you, nor did harsher hands grab you. You let your eyes flicker open carefully, and slowly dropped your arms from in front of your face. Your ex was no longer looking at you. Instead, his eyes were staring straight over your head - resting on the entryway where Daryl was now standing.

You barely had time to react before he stalked into the room, immediately positioning himself between you and your ex. He shot him a glare, before turning around to face you.

"Did he touch you?" Daryl asked, but it sounded more like a demand.

Each of his words came out harsh and gravelly as he said them. You suddenly felt overwhelmed by the intensity of his voice, and the stare that matched - so you looked away.

"Did he fuckin' touch you?" He barked again, even less patient than the last.

His chest heaved, and you decided that it would be best to spare your ex from Daryl's wrath - no matter how much you thought he deserved it.

"No." You choked out, glancing at the other man in the corner of your eye. "He was just leaving."

Your ex scoffed at your warning, but you had more confidence now that Daryl was there to back it up.

"You best quit botherin' her if ya know wha's good for ya." Daryl added lowly, and turned to face the other man as he said it.

Daryl stood slightly taller than your ex, but was more intimidating in a number of ways. Yet, the other man didn't seem to realise it in the slightest - and bit back before Daryl had even finished speaking.

"Listen, man. This isn't anything to do with you." He quipped snarkily, and eyed you where you stood behind Daryl.

You shook your head at him, hoping he'd take the hint.

"Nah." Daryl shot back. "She ain't nothin' to do with you no more."

Your ex left out a laugh, probably due to the liquid courage whichever beer bottle had given him. Sober, he definitely wouldn't have the audacity to meet Daryl's gaze - let alone answer back to him. This time, however, he addressed you as he spoke.

"Oh, I get it." He said with a smirk. "So this is the new guy you're fucking?"

Daryl didn't like that in the slightest, and you heard him growl at the tone your ex used with you. Despite how familiar you were with it, he wasn't.

"Going to move in with him after, what?" He continued, taunting you some more. "Two minutes?"

This time, you were the one to snap.

"Just stop. Get out and let me pack my stuff." You spat, narrowing your eyes at the man who you were once convinced loved you.

He seemed surprised for a moment, and took a step away - like he was physically taken aback that you’d spoken up for yourself.

"No." He countered, once he regained his composure.

Daryl hadn't put a stop to the confrontation yet, but you could practically feel the anger radiate off him where he stood - and knew it wouldn't be long before he did.

"Remind me how long we were dating, again?" Your ex remarked sarcastically. "Only for you to leave me so easily for some scruffy redneck who acts like he owns you?"

You saw red. You pushed past Daryl's shoulder so that you could get into the other man's face. No more would you bite your tongue where he was concerned; especially if he ran his mouth about the person who treated you so much better.

"You fucking hypocrite." You accused, through gritted teeth.

He took a step forward in return, and raised his voice at you in a way you'd almost forgotten.

"Who the hell d'you think you are speaking to me like that?" He yelled, and you could almost taste the alcohol on his breath from how close he was.

"Do you need to be reminded of your place?"

Then, Daryl punched him.

You should have seen it coming, really. Though, in that moment, you'd almost forgotten that the man was even there - so wrapped up in your own anger.

Daryl had stuck him square in the jaw, and your ex stumbled backwards, tripping over his own feet. He hit one of the boxes with his elbow, and it spilled to the floor - scattering your neatly folded clothes. Daryl pushed him against the stone wall of your cell, and you heard your ex's back hit it with a thud.

"Daryl-" you called out, but he was too far gone to hear you.

He got up into the other man's face, so close that he barely had to whisper for him to hear what he said.

"Listen 'ere, ya prick." He growled, dangerously low. "You're the one who needs to be reminded of yer place."

He had his forearm pressed up against the man's throat, and you could hear him gasp. Daryl had his back to you, probably trying to shield you from the sight - but you could still hear it perfectly clear.

"She ain't yours." Daryl said. "Hell, she ain't even mine."

Your breath caught at that, but he quickly continued.

"She's no fuckin' object for either of us to own."

Those words stung you deep. Not because you disagreed with them, or because they hurt you in any kind of way - but because they made you realise just how wrongly you'd been viewed by all the men that came before Daryl. And perhaps, how wrongly you'd even been viewing yourself.

"But she did tell ya to leave." He went on, before his voice got quiet. "An' ya ain't gonna like me if you don't."

Daryl finally took his arm away from the other man's throat, and let him drop back to the floor. You watched as your ex pressed his fingers tentatively to the skin there, before looking at you in disbelief. You snorted, wondering whether he actually expected you to back him up like he'd always made you.

"You heard him." You said, ignoring his expression and looking towards the door. "Get out."

For once, the man listened to you. He stumbled out of the cell without even a second glance back. In the seconds to follow, you and Daryl stood in utter silence. He seemed a lot more calm than he had been, but his eyes were still fixed on the doorway in case someone was to appear at it again.

You slipped your hand into his, and only then did he look away. The man had a guilty expression, like he'd expected you to be disappointed at his actions. He was a little skittish, and quickly glanced away like he couldn't quite meet your stare. You lifted your interlocked hands, noticing his knuckles that were already starting to bruise.

Slowly, you brought his hand to your lips, and placed a gentle kiss there. It was tender - enough so to coax Daryl to meet your eyes and notice the warmth behind them.

"Thank you." You whispered, and you truly meant it.

Never before had you had someone fight in your corner. It had always been you trying to defend yourself the best you could - even if that meant appeasing those people who caused you problems. But, now Daryl had given you the confidence to truly stand up for yourself.

"If he so much as looks at you again, I'll put him in the ground." He said back, letting his eyes trail over his hand, which you held against your cheek.

After a few seconds, he pulled away. The man got on his knees and started to collect the strewn clothes from the floor, and you crouched down to help him. It was the simplest gesture, but it reminded you what it was like to be treated as an equal. Despite everything that had gone down, you thought that this moving day was one of the best days you'd ever experienced.

Daryl lifted the box once it was full, and held it under one arm as he walked towards the door.

"C'mon. Let's get ya outta here." He said, and you nodded in return.

A/N Reader wasn't dating Bob lmao, just wanted to use this gif. Also, I’m sorry I didn’t post this last night like I said - I wasn’t in a good place (but I am now!)

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[yunatheintrovert]

boredom | Naga/Magpie

Monsoon season always brought slow business. The green peaks and hills of Laos would become shrouded in clouds and the roads muddy and treacherous. The rain was also a bitch to deal with. But Magpie’s dealt with worse.

Still, slow business meant less flights. And fewer flights meant more boredom.

And so here she was passing the time with her fellow pilot over a few bottles of lao lao.

“Partying was the best after sorties,” Magpie mused while taking a swig of her bottle. Her other hand flicked open her zippo lighter absent-mindedly, “Nothing better than drinking yourself stupid with a nice cold one.”

“Bia lao was the best,” Kam mused fondly. Magpie glanced over at him. He used to be a fighter pilot in the Royal Lao Air Force before the Pathet Lao took over. It made sense he could afford a few bottles of the expensive drink…

Magpie’s thoughts were cut off by the movement she saw out of the corner of her eye. She nearly smiled at the opportunity bestowed upon her.

“You know what’s even better?” she leaned forward with a smile. Kam looked at her with wary amusement. To be fair, nothing reasonably sane ever came from her smiling.

“What?” he asked with some reluctance. The veteran Laotian pilot really did know her too well.

“Flying,” Magpie answered simply before continuing, “Where else can you ride something between your legs and let it take you somewhere nice and high?”

She glanced out of the corner of her eye.

The timing was perfect.

“Do you have to put it like that?” Kam said dryly, an unimpressed look in his eyes. Magpie laughed amusedly. Her sense of humor was carefully cultivated through the delicate experiences of watching O-club strip dances and doing drunken carrier landings on tables.

Kam opened his mouth to say something before falling silent. His eyes focused on the door behind her. Magpie had to force back the smile.

Kam looked at her with a cautious look. Don’t, went unsaid.

She ignored the warning as always. If the Pathet Lao couldn’t shut her up, neither could he. Magpie continued, “I’m not wrong, though. Can you name something better than flying?”

I like living, he silently mouthed to her.

Well, too bad.

“We both know that,” Magpie grinned, leaning back in her chair before finally saying it.

“Hell, flying’s better than sex itself.”

Pausing at the lack of response, Magpie tilted her head and thought to the audience she hoped to entertain, “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?”

Kam looked at her nervously…or instead looked above her head.

Magpie leaned back in her chair with her head tilted back. She found a pair of familiar aviators staring back at her. It was funny how she saw her own amused reflection in those lenses.

“Had to say it, boss.”

She grinned, a bit of liquid courage from the lao lao bolstering her self-preservation instinct…as always.

An awkward cough from Kam signaled his departure. The pilot shot an exasperated look at her.

Good luck, it almost seemed to say.

Not that Magpie trusted that. If Karma was a righteous bitch, she’d always get the shit end of the stick.

She sighed, staring back up at Naga. Her boss brought this on himself. That remark just had to be made…

“Come on now,” she started, “Don’t you have a few white lines to chase? Hunt some poor souls in the jungle?”

Magpie couldn’t help the smile on her face as she continued, “Wasn’t that better than sex?”

Boredom brought by the monsoon season really did drive her to incredible lengths. And sometimes, it really was fun to just fuck with her boss.

His gloved hand brushed against her neck before firmly tilting her face up to look at him.

Always one for attention, she mused.

Magpie leaned back just a bit more, exposing her neck to him. Sometimes, some excitement was all well and good.

Fun was even better.

“Don’t you have a meeting?” she pointed out with no small amount of satisfaction in her eyes. Never before had Magpie been more thankful for her trusty pair of aviators.

“They can wait,” Naga said in a near hiss, leaning close to her face. His hand trailed close to the collar of her shirt. Magpie hummed in acceptance, not surprised at all by this turn of events. And to think the marks from last time were just fading away...

No tank tops for a while, she guessed.

“Well, guess I’m fucked now.”

In all senses of the word, went unsaid.

[xiaomoxu]

Lucien - From the Heart Date

SPOILER ALERT!!

A date from CN server which hasn’t been released on EN server yet. Might contains some spoiler.

Recently, the company undertook a variety show on love. Today is the first day of filming of the new program.

The gate of the studio is facing a leisure park. After winter, the fallen leaves of the platanus will cover the road and creak when stepping on it.

There are occasional wild boars here, but nearby residents always place cat food for them in conspicuous places, so their lives are quite moist.

He always eats chubby, lying on the fallen leaves in the sun.

It happened that Xu Mo had a lecture today at a nearby hotel, and we made an appointment to have lunch together in this park.

But the work in the morning ended a little later than expected.

When I arrived in the park in a hurry, Xu Mo seemed to have been sitting on a bench for a long time.

The winter sun poured a lot of wine on his shoulders, drawing a warm light on his slightly drooping side face.

After running his fingers across a few lines of headlines on the news, he casually turned a page of the newspaper lying on his lap.

Perhaps disturbed by the sound of the paper, the magpie, which had been resting on the treetops, suddenly spread its wings to win the sky, hovering around the plane trees behind him.

With a "click" sound from the phone, Xu Mo raised his head and met my sight in the golden sun.

I was about to speak, but Xu Mo laughed a step ahead of me.

Xu Mo: Don't be sorry, it didn't take long.

MC: Professor Xu knows how to read minds, he can guess what am I thinking.

Xu Mo: Mind reading is simple, and so will you. If you don’t believe me, you can try and guess what I’m thinking now.

MC: You should be thinking how to punish this late person?

Xu Mo: Well, a good guess.

MC: Why not punish her to eat dinner with Professor Xu at night.

I sat down next to Xu Mo. He put away the newspapers and took out the coffee and sandwiches prepared for me from the paper bag.

Xu Mo: It's a good proposal. However, your new show has received very enthusiastic response. The filming of the last few issues should be very busy, right?

MC: These two days are okay, and no matter how busy the work is, it is no more important than eating with Professor Xu.

I took the coffee and opened the drinking spout on the lid of the cup, and a hazelnut scent spread immediately, making the noon breeze mixed with the sweetness of winter.

MC: How about you, how about today's lecture?

MC: Sneak out during lunch break...

MC: It should disappoint many professors who want to have lunch with you and take the opportunity to exchange a few more words, right?

Xu Mo gave a frank hum, but his expression was always relaxed and casual.

Xu Mo: It doesn't matter, I have a valid reason, they can understand.

He crossed his legs, leaned back in the chair and squinted.

Xu Mo: I told them that I was in charge of the program as a consultant and encountered some problems during the filming, so I had to take the time to communicate with the producer at noon.

I was stunned for a moment.

MC: Professor Xu, based on my assessment of the status quo, it can be understood as: Have you lied to them?

Xu Mo showed a serious expression.

Xu Mo: If the producer is willing to talk to me about the shooting of the show, I think this cannot be called a lie.

Xu Mo: How is it, has the problem you mentioned to me been solved?

During the shooting of this love variety show, something unexpected happened to me.

A female guest told us after the filming of several episodes of the show that she really had a feeling for a male guest on the show.

She proposed an idea and wanted to make a confession part in the program.

This is not only a brilliant idea in terms of program effects, but also fits the theme of the variety show. After several discussions, we decided to cooperate with her in planning.

But the specific way of confession made us tangled for several days.

MC: At that time, we were a little too solemn when we wanted to give gifts. We were deliberately alone and afraid of embarrassment.

Xu Mo turned to me with his arm on the back of the chair, listening patiently.

Xu Mo: And now, is there a conclusion?

MC: Of course~ I am very professional in doing matchmaker.

I vividly described to Xu Mo the opinions that the program team finally reached.

MC: We are going to put her confession note in the clue box in advance.

MC: This is a puzzle-solving session of a two-person team. When the time comes, the male guest will be alone to open the box.

MC: If he is surprised when he sees this note, it will be Happy Ending!

After listening to my description, Xu Mo sighed.

Xu Mo: It takes courage to express your feelings frankly.

Xu Mo: Girls, are always braver than I thought.

The prosperous sunshine shrouded Xu Mo, and I looked sideways at his silhouette overlapping with the light, and every corner of my heart was covered with light emotions.

There are long white clouds floating in the sky, I am holding hot coffee, and my thoughts are also floating slowly.

MC: The moment when ‘liking’ happen, the feeling of heartbeat becomes a seed.

MC: It will grow instinctively, facing the sun and rain.

MC: As for what kind of flower will eventually bloom, it may no longer be important.

MC: The important thing is an instinct.

I leaned closer to Xu Mo, looking at him tightly with my eyes, making a meaningful hint.

MC: As long as this person's eyes look at me, the sun will pour down, and the seeds will surely break through the soil.

He propped his chin and smiled faintly.

Xu Mo: Is it the same instinct as moths attracted to fire?

MC: .....

I suddenly stopped talking.

Xu Mo showed some doubts.

Xu Mo: Did I say something wrong?

MC: Hahaha although it is a bit horrible... but what I think of is a big mosquito lying on the lampshade.

The warm atmosphere was inexplicably broken, and Xu Mo's expression was emotional.

MC: So it's better not a moth, it can be a better looking insect.

Xu Mo: .....

Xu Mo: Haha.... hahahahaha

I don't know why I got into his smile. Xu Mo laughed out of nowhere. He even stooped slightly and put his forehead on my shoulder.

After a while, he raised his head and looked at me, still smiling while talking.

Xu Mo: Well, it's not a moth, it's the instinct of the world's best-looking insect to attack the source of fire.

Seeing that Xu Mo was in such a good mood, I couldn't help but want to tease him a little bit, so I deliberately made a distressed expression, sighed and lowered my head.

MC: What a pity....

Xu Mo: What's wrong?

I took the last bite of the sandwich and patted the crumbs on my fingers, pretending.

MC: The atmosphere was so good just now, I could have taken the opportunity to kiss you.

I caught the slight astonishment in Xu Mo's eyes, and learned his tone mischievously.

MC: I'm teasing you, don't be nervous.

Suddenly he got up and stepped in front of me, bent down directly, and got close to the distance that crossed my breath.

The clear eyes in front of me fell into a pale yellow halo, swaying gentle ripples.

He did nothing, was silent, and looked at me quietly with these eyes.

One second, two seconds, five seconds...ten seconds.

I lowered my gaze subconsciously several times, but every time I lifted it up again, I could see an inch of smile on his lips.

Damn it, lost again!

I turned my face in discouragement, put on a stubborn expression and no longer looked at him, he gave a triumphant smile, and pressed his lips to my forehead.

Xu Mo: Okay, I have to go back to work.

Xu Mo: The spare key is still in the same place. If you can't find it, remember to send me a message.

The voice was soaked with warmth, as if the sun had melted in it all winter.

I feel my auricles are burnt red, nodded.

At the end of lunch time, I hurried back to the studio.

In the afternoon, I mainly took some empty shots with very little content. The ending time was two hours earlier than I expected.

According to the agreement with Xu Mo, I went to his house in advance to wait for him.

When the door was pushed, the wind from the balcony exposed the corridor, blowing a bunch of papers hung on the wall. I quickly closed the door and walked to the paper curiously.

MC: When did Xu Mo paint these...

A thin hemp rope hung on the wall, and seven or eight semi-finished paintings were clamped on them with wooden clips.

All the paintings are me.

I was standing in the snow, I was squatting on the ground to pick up maple leaves, and I was standing in the wheat ears during an outing...

The reason they are said to be semi-finished products is because Xu Mo only gave them half the color.

Many scenes still have traces of sketches, only me and the things around me have color.

It is like a drop of paint falling in water. The color in the middle is dense. The more it spreads, the lighter the color.

But there is only me in these paintings...

I personally made the next decision and took out the easel from the corner of the balcony.

MC: But...

I looked down at my cashmere coat. If I rubbed the paint, it should not be easy to wash.

After a short hesitation, I pulled out a white coat from Xu Mo's laundry basket, which he had not put in the washing machine, and replaced it.

I'll help him wash all these later.

After I was ready, I rolled up my sleeves, picked up the paintbrush and traced Xu Mo's profile on the drawing paper...

Time always flies quickly when you focus on doing things.

When I raised my head again, the window was already a little gloomy, leaving only a faint golden sunset on the curtains.

There was a creaking sound from the door. Once I looked back, I found that Xu Mo had already walked in.

Xu Mo: Sure enough, you were earlier than me.

He put down his briefcase and put on slippers.

Xu Mo: Are you painting?

MC: Uh, yeah~

Xu Mo: It's a good pastime. I'm still worried on the way back. You won't know how to pass the time.

I put aside the paintbrush, stretched my waist, and scratched my wrist.

MC: Although I used Professor Xu's drawing board without authorization, I have a reasonable use.

I removed the half-colored draft from the drawing board and showed it to Xu Mo excitedly.

MC: Although the grading is a little frustrating....

MC: The color of the hair is darker, the complexion on the face is whiter, and the lip color seems too red.

MC: But on the whole, it still shows 80% of the beauty of Professor Xu.

MC: How do you rate it?

Xu Mo didn't speak, but just stared at the painting in my hand and looked again.

He lightened his tone, and gently ran his fingers across the paint on the painting, and the wet color was on his fingertips.

Xu Mo: The painting is so good, I like it very much.

Seeing him a little lost, I shook the painting in my hand in front of him again.

MC: Andㅡit has a little secret!

I took one of Xu Mo's paintings, overlapped the two papers, and clamped it in between.

Although the brushstrokes are different and the colors are very different, the backgrounds of the two paintings can blend together well.

The golden wheat field connects to the azure blue sky, me and Xu Mo are facing each other in the painting, and our eyes intersect.

Naturally as if this is the original picture, there should be two people

MC: It didn't turn over!!! 

Before I painted, I didn't expect that my technique had advanced to this level.

Xu Mo stood behind me at some point, stretched out his hand to embrace my waist from behind, and pulled me into his arms.

Xu Mo: The painting is very good, I really like it.

I look back and stuck to the his side profile.

Xu Mo: I also like the paintings you paint, but if the paintings are the two of us together, I would like them better.

Xu Mo tightened his arms.

Xu Mo: I didn't mean it.

Xu Mo: Otherwise, if you talk about it, people don't have themselves in their memory. How do you draw a picture of two people?

MC: Hm.

MC: You're right.

Xu Mo's chuckle came in my ears. I pressed against the warmth of his chest and looked at the painting in front of me.

MC: Xu Mo, are you painting these, is it something to commemorate?

MC: I look at these paintings. They are all scenes from our previous trips. Some of them are from a long time ago.

Xu Mo: It is a part of memories, but it is not a memorial.

Xu Mo: It's just that these pictures are all in my mind, so I simply painted them.

Xu Mo: Or...

He paused suddenly.

Without urging me, we fell into a long silence.

The setting sun outside the window has completely sunk below the horizon, and in the dim room, the sound of the two people's interlaced breathing one after another

The gloomy light cast our shadows on the wall. From this angle, I saw that his bent waist ridge showed a slight arch.

The skin on the side of the neck is filled with a moist smell, which is the breath of Xu Mo that I am most familiar with.

Xu Mo: MC, there are some people in this world.

He spoke slowly, his voice was always calm, and his arms tightened again around my waist.

Xu Mo: Not realizing that "heartbeat" is the beginning of all beautiful stories

Xu Mo: When they find that they have the emotion of "like", the first thing they feel is uneasy.

Xu Mo: They will choose to suppress themselves, resist the occurrence of "likes", and always remind themselves not to fall into this emotion.

Xu Mo: The heartbeat they feel is a complex emotion mixed with anxiety.

Xu Mo: For such people, it can be difficult to express yourself frankly.

Xu Mo put his chin on my shoulder, and stretched out his hand, rubbing his palm on the drawing paper in front of him.

Xu Mo: I have been practicing this candor since a long time ago.

Xu Mo: What you see is the result of practice.

MC: ....

I was speechless for a while and didn't know how to describe my feelings at the moment.

He suddenly bent over and picked me up, strode to the front hall, and put me on the table.

Dark blue night was thrown into the room, and the deep eyes that were close at hand had dark gutters, and they were silently conveying something.

Xu Mo: Or maybe I paint these paintings just to tell you what kind of flowers the seed planted in my heart bloomed.

The ice layer, which had been covered by snow for a long time, finally cracked a tiny mark and made an inaudible sound, but it clearly fell into my ears at this moment.

What followed was that the invading ice tide finally broke through the heavy ice and flowed into the spring.

I fixedly looked at him, as if finally seeing the person in front of me as the person I knew best.

Xu Mo: You are right, the upward growth of seeds is an instinct.

Xu Mo: Even if you know that you will risk tears when you build bonds with others.

Xu Mo: Even if this effect can be explained by factors such as dopamine, phenylethylamine, norepinephrine, and endorphins, I cannot suppress this instinct.

He paused and took my hand to his lips.

Xu Mo: I am willing to obey this instinct.

All the language that expresses emotions is stuck in my throat, and there is no way to convey and vent it.

Xu Mo smiled and came up.

When our lips touched, I saw the tide surge in his eyes.

Xu Mo: .....

All the senses are overwhelmed by such turbulent emotions, as if falling into the deep sea, the hands we hold together are tightly clasped.

Sanity is slowly being pulled away, only the hot breath is getting stronger and stronger.

I opened my eyes slightly, and saw the most straightforward expression in his eyes, which he always used to be silent.

MC: Xu Mo....

Between my lips and the tip of my tongue, I called his name softly, as if reading a mark on my heart.

Xu Mo: Hm..

Slowly, Xu Mo's lips and teeth went down and gently bit on the side of my neck. I was itchy by him. Several times I tried to turn my head to avoid, but I was caught by him.

He seemed to be aroused, and nibble all the way from the side of the neck to the earlobe.

I stepped back half an inch, and he went one foot in until he forced me to the corner, completely circled into his arm.

MC: Xu Mo, you  shameless...

After I protested in a low voice, he finally let go of me slightly, his eyes full of interest.

Xu Mo: I know.

Xu Mo: But no matter what I want, you will satisfy me, won't you?

MC: Bad guy.

He has an innocent tone.

Xu Mo: Is this a bad guy?

I nodded heavily.

He put on an expression of serious thinking, but reached a conclusion within a few seconds.

Xu Mo: Apart from making you a little irritated, there seems to be nothing wrong with being a bad guy.

Xu Mo: Besides, your face now is really cute.

Xu Mo: People can't help but want to bullied the cute.

MC: ...

MC: You are still righteous!

Xu Mo: Oh, yes.

Xu Mo smiled, buried his head on my shoulder, and exhaled gently.

Xu Mo: MC, Do you know what instinct brings me?

He opened his mouth softly and whispered.

Xu Mo: Happiness.

Xu Mo: A pleasure in which desires are satisfied and worries are filled.

Xu Mo: In other words, it is this kind of happiness that makes me unable to resist this instinct.

His hand slid across my waist, cupped my cheek, and kissed every inch of my skin.

But every time, it was just a light touch.

Not a strong desire, I feel more of a gentle invasion at this moment.

From the side of the neck to the cheeks, from the corners of the lips to the eyes.

Like tides over the ankles and fine sand over the toes.

He distanced himself and looked into my eyes carefully.

Xu Mo: I want to thank the light coming from these eyes.

Xu Mo: Let the seed in my heart bloom a beautiful flower.

Hot fingertips ran across my skin, Xu Mo clasped my hand and pushed me completely against the wall.

The fine kisses linger on the side of the neck, and he sucks lightly and hardly, leaving warm red marks on it.

The night enveloped the city.

The deep night mixed with the beautiful blue slowly spread out, and the deep background color was reflected in Xu Mo's eyes.

Xu Mo: I am glad I did not miss the beginning of this wonderful story.

Xu Mo: As for the ending of this story...

Xu Mo: What do you hope it looks like?

I thought for a while, but couldn't answer.

MC: I didn't think about it.

MC: But it must be better than the beginning.

I stretched out my hand to pull Xu Mo's tie, and skillfully pulled it out of the collar.

However, the brain becomes clear inexplicably under the action of complex sensory organs, and plays back one memory after another.

MC: In fact, at the beginning, I was not always firm, and I was a little uneasy, a little bit uncertain.….

MC: I often feel that you are in front of me, but so far from me.

Xu Mo paused slightly, but did not stop.

Xu Mo: And then?

I tried to think about it, and couldn't help but giggle.

MC: I'm so happy, so happy that could forget this anxiety

MC: You look happy when you look at me, and you are happy when you talk to me.

MC: If you stay with me for a little while, I can even be happy all day.

Xu Mo reached out and stroked the side of my face, sighing in a low voice

Xu Mo: Silly girl.

I pulled on his collar, trying to get him closer to me.

MC: Xu Mo, I want to hug you.

MC: ... also want to be held by you.

Xu Mo pulled me completely into his arms, tightening his arms hard enough to prevent us from leaving a little gap.

I clung to his embrace and kept in mind every bit of his feelings.

Looking back now, maybe all the good stories in the world have their beginnings to follow.

But someone stood in front of me, and I was very happy because of it.

Then he looked at me, and my heart bloomed.

---------- END ----------

I’m sorry if there’s some mistranslation. Kindly tell me if you found some :) thank you for read it~ ^^

[shiversdownyerspine]

15. Confession

Ladies and gentlemen we have The Kiss.

The raunchiness is going to Ramp Up.

18+

The passing of time finds you curled up in bed with a little journal, carefully perusing the information you've gathered on this new side of you. The scowl on your face won't go away.

You stare down at the top of the page, at the two little words that are the source of your ire.

Heat Cycle.

Isn't it just fantastic. As if you needed another weird little condition in your life. Well, it probably isn't right to consider this unusual. So far your cycle lasts six days total, with the first three days being the absolute worst. You can definitely believe that this is something you were meant to experience ages ago, but staying away from people severely delayed it. No, this is supposed to be natural for you. 

You can't bring yourself to appreciate the irony of it all. Natural. What a joke.

Well, maybe if you just give it time it'll become like second nature to you. Your eyes fall once more to the pages.

You'd bet that the attraction you feel towards the Swedes is the catalyst for triggering your cycle; when the men returned from their first mission, your fluctuating emotions probably set it off. Who knows, maybe because your attraction isn't singular but multiple, it's affecting the severity of your symptoms. Ohhh the symptoms. You dearly hope they get better with time.

The handful of experiments you've done to see what would offer relief have yielded poor results; hot water helps you relax, so showers and baths are good. Cold water is too much for your skin. For the first couple of days you had tried masturbation to gentle your 'flow', but that didn't really make a difference. You wouldn't even consider fingering, you're too wary of the sudden sensitivity to penetration, and strangely enough, you feel on an almost instinctual level that it wouldn't work.

There is some comfort in the fact that you could tell when your cycle was starting, the tingling and prickling caught your notice pretty quick. With the reliable timing, making yourself scarce won't be too difficult. Theoretically. But you're fairly certain the Swedes will eventually notice your missing presence.

It was a miracle you didn't have to explain your disappearance that first night to Otto. He'd been on the verge of sleep when you got up and luckily you hadn't really disturbed him, he just sank right back into slumber. Maybe the mission had tired them all out. Maybe time travel had its own sort of jet lag. Maybe both? Whatever it is, thank goodness.

A month later the Swedes are out on their second mission when your cycle returns with no sign of gentling. Your desperation leads you to throw caution to the wind and try penetration. In the bath your sex was fairly successful with tolerating light strokes and caresses. Carefully rubbing your clit, you breathe and push a finger in deep. Keeping it still and just letting the stimulation to your clit do the work, you push yourself to the edge of orgasm. Feeling a little more confident you let your hand move, slipping that finger in and out. By the third stroke you had slapped a hand over your mouth to smother your loud noises. By the tenth there were tears in your eyes, hips jumping and jerking almost uncontrollably as you came. Unfortunately, nothing changed for the better.

In fact, you were utterly crestfallen when you discovered your attentions had actually made things worse for you; late into the night you could still feel the phantom sensation of a finger inside, your walls weakly pulsing like a heartbeat as you ooze continuously into the gusset of your panties. You continuously drifted in and out, and in the wee hours of the morning with restless nerves taut enough to snap, you listened to instinct and headed to the dryer where Otto's shirt still lay folded and waiting. Retrieving the article of clothing, you curled up in bed with it clutched to your chest and promise you'd make an effort to remember to put his clothing back where you found it. But at the moment you didn't really give a damn about the possible consequences.

The effects of your cycle lessened as the lingering scent soothed you, and though you had to fight this bizarre urge to collect...like some kind of Magpie...eventually you were able to fall asleep.

After that cycle ended, you seriously considered stashing the shirt away. You're just...borrowing it. They'll never know.

The Swedes returned from their second mission after a handful of days out in the field. This time you were in the living room when they came trudging through your door. 

Oscar was in a huff, cheeks a bit puffed with frustration. "Jävla hala jävel."

Mildly concerned you watched as he headed to their guestroom, presumably to drop off his pack, before you turned your attention to his older brothers. Otto appeared to be untouched, if a little miffed. Axel on the other hand looked roughed up, hair out of place with light bruising and a couple of scrapes about his face.

The two men give a curt nod to you as you rise from the sofa to join them as they make their way into the kitchen. The first aid you had relocated to a cabinet under the kitchen sink, which Otto knowingly retrieves for you. "So...I'm guessing there's been some complications?"

"The target escaped." Axel solves the mystery for you, eyeing the kit in your hands before raising a brow at his quiet brother. Otto ignores him in favor of removing his pack and tossing it to Oscar as he joins the rest of you. The youngest catches it before giving Otto an annoyed look, seriously considering just dumping it on the floor for its rightful owner to take care of, before compromising and leaning the hefty bag against the wall. Oscar jerks his chin up in stubborn defiance, leaning back against the wall as well. Allowing it, Otto folds his arms and watches you make your way to their older brother.

"And took a couple swings at you on the way out?"

Sitting at the kitchen table with a slight scowl, Axel touches a finger to a small abrasion at the corner of his eyebrow to examine a bit of blood. 

Their target was a stocky man who had managed to break free of Otto's hold, had even cracked their older brother's head back into a wall with a wild adrenaline-fueled swing before tearing towards the exit like a bat out of hell. Of course Oscar had left him a parting gift, namely a wickedly sharp serrated knife buried in the meat of the unlucky man's upper leg. They had thought he wouldn't have gotten far with that wound impeding him, but he was nowhere to be seen. However as they began searching, Otto had surprised them by insisting on returning to you.

Taking the initiative you reach forward, brushing the loose strands of Axel's hair back off his forehead for a closer inspection of his face.

"Well...you don't look like you're on death's door, but how do you feel? Headache? Nausea? Blurry vision?"

Otto answers immediately, "Unsteady."

Indeed, as the brothers started tracking, Otto had noticed Axel stumbling a little every now and then, his steadfast gait not quite the way it was supposed to be. After a moment of consideration, the largest Swede had intervened, concerned about a concussion. Oscar had hesitated but once he saw his brother sway after coming to a complete stop, he too was on board with the change of plans.

"Concussions can get worse, you should take it easy for a bit. Let me see..." Before Axel can denounce any concerns, your hand is on his shoulder while the other is cupping his chin and tilting his face up to see how his pupils adjust to the light. Your touch is soft as your fingers slide over his skin, encouraging him with careful pressure to follow your direction. His hands twitch as his gaze follows a curl of hair sweeping down to your collarbone.

He breathes in slow when you once again push your fingers through the pale strands atop his head, your lips quirking fondly. "I think there's a little plaster in your hair."

Oscar's eyes flit between you and his eldest brother before he slips to Otto and elbows him, jerking his head towards the hallway to indicate that they should make themselves scarce. Otto walks to his pack and hefts it up with ease as an excuse of 'putting things where they belong' justifies their absences.

As you tend to the rough marks left behind on Axel's skin, you remember the mark he himself had left on your knife. You had meant to ask about it earlier but you've been rather distracted lately. The man shares his knowledge of the Algiz rune and some of the other Elder Futhark runes; the one on your knife handle represents an elk, a symbol of protection, defense, and guardianship.

"I'd love to hear about what other runes you know, but I don't want to keep you up all night...alright that should do it." You trail your fingers gently over his cheek, fascinated by the texture of his scar.

Axel hums, catching your wrist and holding your hand still. He turns his face into your palm and presses his lips to the skin. Pink dusts your cheeks at the gesture of appreciation, your eyes flicking from your hand to him as his mouth leaves your palm. With his grasp loose on your wrist you gather your nerve and slip your fingers lightly under his jaw, thumb dangerously close to the corner of his lips.

Brow creased with faux concern you lean in a little, eyeing his cheek. "Wait..."

Before he has the chance to react you lean in the rest of the way and press a lingering kiss to his cheek, right on his old scar. After pulling in a heavy breath, he goes very still.

You pull away with a soft smile, trying not to blush at the way his gaze is very focused on you. Chalking his stare up to confusion you murmur, "You've all been giving me so many and..I...I really wanted to give a kiss back. To thank you for the rune carving."

A strange look crosses the eldest Swede's face as his eyes flick down to your lips and then back up to your eyes, your wrist still in his grasp. He makes a decision.

The chair scoots across the floor as he rises from his seat and crowds you against the kitchen table, hand on your side guiding you back. He releases your arm as he dips to lift you up to the surface to sit, your wide-eyed stare and softly parted lips urging him to slip between your thighs. He needs answers. You've been driving him and his brothers crazy, and he has plenty of reason to believe the pining is mututal.

"You like us?"

"...? Of course I like you three, what..!" Your breath catches when he leans in, his fists resting on the tabletop to the left and right of you. Caged in, you're rendered silent as he stares intently at you.

"Do you want us?"

Mind blank and cheeks hot as your brain catches up with the meaning behind his words, your eyes dart over his handsome face. You know you're meant to respond, to say something but there is nothing, not a peep from you. This frustrating silence of yours, unintended as it is, does nothing to deter Axel. If anything it's an incentive to be a little more specific, a little more direct.

His head dips, lips lightly sliding against your cheek for a moment as he moves forward. Your ear tingles as his breath warms the sensitive skin before he questions you, voice lulling and suggestive as it rumbles from his throat.

"Do you like us touching you? Teasing you? Kissing you?"

One of his hands moves to yours, gliding up your arm and shoulder to sweep up the side of your neck. He rubs his thumb lightly over your bottom lip as his mouth presses minutely to the soft skin under your ear. At the sound of your whimper, his lips leave you as he draws back to peer heavy-lidded at your dazed visage.

"Red cheeks, squeezing thighs, pretty sounds..."

He cradles the side of your neck, thumb stroking along the curve of your jaw as he nonchalantly lists some of the reactions to him and his brothers that he's noticed. That they've all noticed. Your lips drag a shallow shaky inhale into your throat at his words, nearly breathless at how sweetly cruel he is to lay your attraction out so neatly before you. Axel's mouth hovers a hair's breadth away, his lips lightly parted as if hoping to catch the slightest taste of you on your exhale. The scent of pine and something heady floods your senses, pulling you under.

Vague recollections flutter in the abyss of your mind, specific memories of the younger brothers floating in the dark just out of reach. One was smothered with the comforting smell of laundry while another one dripped with zesty ginger, both slipping through your fingers. In their place earthy tones engulf you instead, entangling you in the present situation, in him.

This awareness does nothing but remind you with overwhelming intensity that you are helpless to the whims of the man who is tenderly interrogating you, pulling piece after piece away and leaving you bare before him.

When you finally give a verbal response, he's delighted to hear his name uttered so soft and sweet; begging for him to spare you yet also tempting him to give in and sink his mouth against yours and taste.

But...you haven't answered his question yet.

The hand cradling your neck slips back to cup your nape, tilting your head to expose your throat. He dips to the offering, leaving kiss after kiss as your hands shakily grasp his shirt, fingers curling in the fabric as he peppers your skin with lazy affection.

Your breath comes quick in light puffs and quivery gasps, stuttering with a weak moan when warm lips softly suck at your pulse. Emboldened by the results of his attentions, Axel strokes the feathers that tickle his fingers at the base of your skull.

Electrifying sensations entwine, spiraling into a cutting clarity and desperation that demands you reveal the truth. "I..I want..."

The gentle wet sound of his mouth releasing your skin distracts you for a second. He allows you a moment to collect yourself but has no qualms with encouraging you to continue should you hesitate too long.

"I want more."

Your greedy admission is rewarded with contemplative silence as he savors your words. The quiet lingers a moment longer before slow ticklish kisses trail back up your neck, your cheek, and finally to your ear. A shudder ripples through your body as the man softly nips your earlobe with a hum. "And?"

With the lull in teasing you discover the fog in your brain has receded a little, at least enough for coherent speech to return. You accept defeat.

"I want all of you. I do."

It feels good to recognize what you've been hiding inside of you for so long, to acknowledge that you wanted this with them. Axel plants one last lingering kiss under your ear before resting his forehead against yours, "Are you scared?"

You take the opportunity to catch your breath; the revelation that there had been more behind their attention, that they want you just as much, was as invigorating as it was nerve-wracking. But you know how you feel and you trust the three men.

"Maybe a little...overwhelmed? This is new."

The brush of his lips against yours is featherlight, the sensation potent enough to send a shiver through you. You marvel at how badly you want him to do it again as he murmurs, "Not all new. Some new, some different. We will still touch and kiss but more."

The final word in his sentence he chooses to punctuate with another kiss, warm and firm as it demonstrates his point perfectly and steals your breath for the frustratingly short amount of time it lasts. His words sink in. More. And not with just one, but all three of the men you so adore. Delight warring with shyness, you bury your red face in Axel's neck as his hands slip down your sides.

"We will go slow, give and take, share. Would you like that?" The heat in his voice is both reverential hunger and alluring promise. You press a kiss under his jaw, receiving a squeeze to your hips in turn.

Yes, you would most certainly like that.

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Jävla hala jävel. - Fucking slippery bastard.