#maybe ill wear my longer tails like this sometimes

[bettertwin9000]

Butterfly. I did the best I could with my longer taills- S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N Helped a bit as well.

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day eighteen: cockwarming kink

>>> idk why shiggy and cockwarming are like peanut butter and jelly to me...like i only have cravings for him when i'm deep in the caverns of my mental illness but...this is yummy? and i don't think it counts as cockwarming but shut up!!!

>>> starring: tomura shigaraki x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: cockwarming, established relationship, degradation, exhibitionism, fingering (fem receiving), p n v, creampie, implied multiple rounds. >>> wc: 3.1k >>> event masterlist

it was league tradition at this point. not even when the members were scattered to the winds to gather intel and work official villain business did the group miss weekly movie night. some members may or may not be there some weeks, sometimes you were all together, coupled off into platonic and romantic pairings to view whatever your leader picked out. whenever you were there, he let you pick, but it’s been quite some time since you’ve been back home. shigaraki regrets sending you so far out of reach. this assignment had taken you much longer than he would have liked, way longer. correspondence had grown slower, each message shorter than the last. you were tailing hawks to make sure he was trustworthy and it seems it was giving you a great deal of trouble. 

or maybe hawks was loyal to the heroes like shigaraki suspected and had gotten to you with his agenda, turning you into a double agent. well, no, that couldn’t be it. if that were so, you would do a better job of acting normal to keep him off your case. did you need help? no, again, he knows you would just tell him that too, so what was going on with you? were you mad at him? had he done something before you left? 

he thinks back a couple of months—the unbearable length of time you’ve been gone—trying to think of any reason you could be short with him. you didn’t have any big fights, he didn’t forget any anniversaries or special occasions, and he went easier on toga like you asked him to. the only possible thing he can think of is the fact that it was saturday, aka movie night, when you left— and he fell asleep watching the movie you picked—meaning he didn’t get to spend your last night with you or give you any goodbye-and-good-luck dick. he sighs aloud at the realization. you were absolutely petty enough to hold that against him, but he hoped you wouldn’t prolong your mission just to prove a point. 

this is the first time since the league started this little routine that he’s wanted to call it off. the rest of the league missed you too, if not because you were their friend, it was because tomura had grown so intolerable and irritable in your absence that they were begging nightly for your return. when saturday rolled around, and you still weren’t back, they watched their fearless leader sulk around like a kicked puppy all day. each member dreaded the nighttime. shigaraki was prone to throwing tantrums when he saw any of the league members get too friendly with one another in your absence, so it looks like they’ll all have to sit spread out for movie night. 

was he to be held accountable for the things he said and did while busy wallowing in his grief? some may say yes, but he was a strong believer in live and let live—you were certainly his better half. but you’ve been away for close to three months, and your effects are wearing off. he was incredibly snappy as he set the theater room up, the shitty little projector dabi stole was clearly running on its last legs. he was in no mood to pick out a goofy movie, not whenever he was wondering if you were even coming back at this point. he barked at twice to find something to watch—and the man was heavily influenced by toga’s opinions, so suicide squad seemed to be the answer. what a trash pick, he thinks. it’s why he’s in charge, and why only your opinions can influence his own. you would never have allowed suicide squad. 

that’s not the only reason tomura misses you, of course. he misses working on your own missions together, decorating the hideout to make it feel more like a home, the way you’d sit with him as he plays video games in his room, or how you two would cuddle as you’re falling asleep with his glove-clad hands all over you, and of course, your drooling pussy sucking him in over and over again. it’s been nearly three months since he’s gotten to see your face, inhale your familiar scent, or get anywhere close to cumming. he can’t even use his own hand anymore—you’ve spoiled him. he’s always been a shitty sleeper, too, but your body in his grasp was the magical cure—so of course he’s been getting next to no rest without you. he’ll never send you on a mission again. 

when he hears several bustling voices and a relieved “thank whoever put us on this flaming pile of shit” from dabi, he knows you’re home. mr. compress and kurogiri escort you into the movie room, where he waits for you. tomura nearly shouts, either at you for being gone so long or in relief that you’re finally home, he’s not sure. the corner of his mouth slides up in a reserved grin, but everyone can see the light return to his eyes. god forbid a world where you didn’t come back to him. 

“sorry i’m late for movie night everyone! i missed you!” you sing out to greet the room, but you’re only looking at your exhausted boyfriend. though he always carried a certain tired stress, he looked worse than usual, and you know that he hasn’t slept through the night since you’ve been gone. you’re on the love seat next to him immediately, jumping all over him and tightening your arms around his neck. his grin spreads, and kurogiri plays the movie to keep everyone else from having to watch in on your reunion and sickening love fest. 

he slides his arm around your back, humming sleazily in your ear. “finally. took you long enough, babe.” he huffs, taking that deep inhale of your sweet smell and sighing his relaxation quietly. his mood is relieved just by holding your frame and feeling your soft hair tickling his cheek. you giggle and sigh too, and he feels the weight of your body slump into his. 

“don’t i know it, was beginning to think you hated me for sending me out there for so long.” you pout, releasing him from your grip to gain sight of his face. he rolls his eyes at you, shaking his head with a tiny amused grin donning his features. 

“you’ll never leave this hideout again. i missed you.” he pinches some of your hair between his fingers and curls the piece around his digits as he looks over your face, gazing at your soft eyes and gentle lips, full cheeks, and everything else he’s missed for what feels like forever. you hum in intrigue at the ‘threat’ and kiss him. you can’t afford to go too hot and heavy with all your friends in the room, but you wanted your boyfriend to know you missed him just as badly as he missed you. your nights weren’t spent sleeping comfortably and every day you felt more and more lost without tomura’s logic keeping you on task. you nibble at his bottom lip, laving your tongue over him with a little moan. he grins, you’re the extrovert, but he’s not shy about making you noisy in front of the others. you feel him smile against your lips before he pulls away, trailing kisses over your cheek until he can bite the lobe of your ear. you gasp sharply, and he’s tossing a blanket over your hips for modesty’s sake. 

you smirk knowingly, lifting your skirt over your ass as the blanket falls in your lap. “oh so my little slut did miss me..” he whispers, licking over your jawline as he reaches under the blanket. the pads of his first two fingers swipe over you panties, tracing the outlines of your lips with a nasty little grin. he can feel your wetness pooling against the fabric already, your desperation making his cock rise against his sweats. he casts his eyes around to make sure no one’s watching, but he’s trained his league better than that. he slides his hand under your waistband, finding your clit automatically. you feel your stomach flutter in response to his touch, the fabric of his mostly fingerless gloves scratch against the inside of your thigh as he presses his sinewy finger in circles around your bundle. you fall against him, head rolling around on his shoulder within seconds. 

he knew you like he built you himself, and he knew that after a trip away—the both of you were insatiable—but you were all too easy to work up. you would tell him all about the mission later. there would be plenty to catch up on after he gives you all you’ve been missing here lately. tomura would be lying if he said that watching you stifle your noises and wiggle against the cushions didn’t affect him, his dick was crying for you. fingering you in front of the league was one thing, fucking you was another. but his body was growing too hot to bear, and he could tell from the need in your eyes that even having him inside you would relieve some of your ache. that should be fine, they wouldn’t look at you no matter what—they knew better than that, but he still didn’t want them hearing your sweet sounds. that was just for him. but with your hips bucking into his hand, and yours clamping down over your mouth as he shoves you over the edge with his fingers—he knows he’ll need to feel you. 

he’s pulling himself out of his sweatpants before he can argue with himself too long about it. his cock stands straight up in wait, and before you know it, tomura’s hands are on your hips and he’s pulling you into his lap. your brain was still mush, veins coursing with the pleasure of being reunited and under his spell. you were so focused on not making any noises that you didn’t even give your needy boyfriend a look of disapproval. he pretends like you’re the problem as if he would be able to sit here with his hands to himself, but you know the truth. shigaraki is just as helpless as you are, hence his finger curling around your panties and hooking them to the side so he can lower you on his waiting cock. 

he makes you sit all at once, and he clamps his free hand over your mouth before you can react to the stretch. then he snakes his arm around your waist, pulling you back to meet his chest. “keep quiet and sit still.” 

you nod vigorously, though you know you’re agreeing to something impossible. you were crazy with need, his fingers only unlocked the gate of your desire. you hadn’t had this dick in you for too long, and now that the length is fully sheathed in you—you’re ordered to sit still? it burns, your hole needed to be stretched back open to accommodate his sizeable length, long curved shaft angled just right against the spots you needed him most–but it wasn’t enough. you needed movement, you needed to hear him grunt and moan and speak unimaginable filth in your ear. you whine out softly, when the movie was loud enough you thought only tomura would hear.

he can feel you squeezing, and despite his orders, you wiggle in his lap irregardless. he should have known you wouldn’t be able to handle obedience after so much time apart, but it’s nothing he can’t remind you of. truth be told, he’s losing his cool too. he missed your wet cunt gripping him like this—how could he be angry at you for needing him so badly when he’s no better? he couldn’t, really, he could only be amused with your affection for him even if it assuaged every worry he had about you leaving him all that time you were gone. his hands dig into your fatty hips to use them as his own personal stress ball, kneading and squeezing on his whim. he can feel everything, every nerve on his body was acutely aware of every labored breath you took and each pound of his heart. he didn’t know if he could be strong much longer—and he knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your mouth shut. 

“you guys have your own room—why do we have to suffer through this?” dabi huffs out, clearly aware of what was going on in the room. twice clasps his hands by his cheek, disagreeing with his teammate. 

“young love! they just missed each other! at least he isn’t pout—” 

“out.” tomura hisses, cock jumping from knowing you were caught. you just clamp around him in answer, just as shameless as your boyfriend. “don’t speak—get out.” 

the other members gave mixed reactions, some rolled their eyes and huffed their way out the door, the others chuckled knowingly—they would rather deal with this shigaraki than the one that misses you any day of the week. when the door shuts and you two are left alone, a mixture of fabric and skin taps against your jaw. tomura held your face in his grip, fingers dancing along your bone in a teasing way. 

“my slut forgot how to listen, hm?” he asks rhetorically, sliding his grip to your neck. he squeezes with just the right amount of pressure to make you dizzy and open your mouth—though he can’t see your skanky face right now. you’re lucky he was just as needy right now or he was liable to leave his dick in you until it went soft without ever moving—but tonight? tonight he needed to reclaim his slutty little cunt until the sun came up. 

“been so long since i had to take orders.” you huff, maybe you were annoyed with him after all. 

he snickers. “attitude, little slut.” he says with a harsher squeeze to your neck. tomura can’t deny his entertainment–you got your nickname from your neediness, after all. “are you really mad at me?” he asks, and you know he wants a real answer. 

“annoyed—why’d you want me gone?” you huff, and he angles his hips up into you without warning. you gasp sharply at the stab, leaning forward to hold onto his knees. 

“didn’t want you gone, brat.” he sighs, letting off your throat in favor of holding the natural handlebars of your curves as he pushes your back forward to watch his dick plow in and out of you, his grip your only guidance. your moans start immediately, and he can’t help but smirk. “you’re my right hand, you’re the only one i can trust with some shit.” 

you purr at his explanation, bouncing along him on your own accord. he’s massive, filling every gap your pussy had to offer unapologetically. he presses against the entrance of your cervix without any movement at all, much less the animalistic style your boyfriend liked to fuck in, it was brutal. but so so good. it burns and sends shooting yet blissful pain through your body with every stroke, you slip forward a little, growing unable to hold yourself up. he grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling you back up without remorse. 

“where you going, slut?” he teased, slamming up into you. it was unfair, he was gifted with such a huge dick he didn’t even need a good angle to absolutely wreck you. he was mesmerized by the sight of your cute little hole puckering around him, swallowing him whole and letting him slide back out. you would squeeze down with every thrust, making him slow down to pull himself out and speedily shove back in. “can’t even take good dick anymore?” 

you mewl out in response, your fingers digging into his thighs as your back arches deeper, only encouraging your boyfriend to speed it all up. it’s like you can feel him in your throat, your entire body being used and abused by the man you missed desperately. shigaraki treats you like his prized treasure any other time, but especially after a trip away—you love being his slut. you moan and through your ass back, making him groan out at the conflicting paces. 

“so nasty. fucking you stupid and look at you—like a bitch in heat.” he chuckles, though it’s all so pornographic to him. no other pussy in the world would feel like yours, your cute clamping and sticky wetness could never be beat. and your insides practically beat into the shape of him, he knows no other dick would have your toes curling as you bounce  and squeal. 

“tomura—” your breathy moan makes his balls hurt. he didn’t care how quickly he came this time. he’ll keep you spread open all night until he’s satisfied with the amount of cum seeping out of the hole made just for him. he wanted you to cum twice as many times as he does, so your sweet moan of his name and your fluttering pussy only tell him to snake his arm around your hips so he can rub your puffy clit again. he loves these gloves you got him, the mesh fabric makes it easier for him to feel everything without fear of quirk activation. he can feel your pulsing need under his fingertips, and he smiles at your sensitivity. you were such a gift to a man like him. 

“what? use your words.” he huffs in disinterest, though you know it’s anything but. your gut lurches, feeling like you stepped on an escalator that was moving too fast. 

“wanna cum, can i please, tomura?” you ask sweetly, calling his name just how he liked and everything. he had every intention of drawing this out—but he supposes he can have that during your next round. 

“do it now.” he orders, gruff voice telling you that there would be no punishment if you didn’t—unless you considered taking him all night a punishment. the sound of him groaning and feeling your body made it easy to follow his orders, your hips still even as his continue their assault. you shake from head to toe, the orgasm so intense after such a long time without cumming on his cock. you squeeze down so hard he sucks in a deep breath, knowing he was going to shoot his load like mount vesuvius. you hum happily, wiggling back on him to milk all the warmth he gave you. he slows his hips to a stop, panting only a little as he pushes you carefully off his lap and onto the love seat. “want to see my slut’s nasty faces this time.” 

he grins as he spreads your legs again, ready to stain the cushions beneath, when someone knocks at the door. twice pounds on the frame again, pouting. 

“can you guys at least pause the movie?” 

[whump-whump-baby]

So your Fictional Universe has Horses in it

Alternatively: People Ride Horses in Your Fic, and you’re Not Sure What to Do About It

horse rider/owner and baby writer here, throwing you an infodump that will maybe help with the whole ‘There’s a Horse in the Background here but I Don’t Know What to Do With it’ thing I sometimes see in writing!

Inside this infodump: Horse riding, horse care, horse tack (equipment), falling off a horse (and what usually gets injured), horse lingo, and behaviour.

1. Tame that beast (aka, riding the horse)

a couple things here: Getting on the horse, getting off, steering, etc

Honestly, I’m only including this part because I find that a lot of people skip past the whole ‘getting on the horse’ bit and I find it hilarious. It’s not a weird thing but it can be weird to describe. I get it!

Getting On

Experienced riders will always mount from the left side of the horse. It's a weird tradition that doesn’t really make sense anymore, but it’s still followed because most don’t really see a reason to change it. It supposedly dates back to medieval times and has something to do with where a sword would traditionally be hung on a person’s hip- mounting (Putting your foot in the stirrup, grabbing up high on the saddle, pulling yourself up and over while using your foot in the stirrup to help yourself) from the left means you wouldn’t accidentally poke your horse with your sheath. Not sure if this story has any validity to it, but we all still follow the left rule unless we’re specifically getting a horse used to mounting from the other side for whatever reason.

Getting off

I have a bone to pick with this. Nobody gets off their horse by swinging a leg in front of themselves, over the horse’s neck in front of them, and hopping down facing away from their horse. It’s not the safest bet to attempt because 1. It actually requires a lot of hip strength to swing your leg like that without kicking your poor horse in the neck, and 2. It doesn’t give you a legitimate way to hold onto your horse after dismounting, which is inherently unsafe. Even if you are in possession of The World’s Best Behaved Horse Ever, you always want to be holding onto the reins. Riders usually dismount by leaning forward, swinging a leg behind them and over the horse’s butt, pivoting sideways on their stomach, and sliding down off the horse- keeping a hand on the rein and one on the saddle to slow their descent. That way you always have a hand on your wild beast, who may decide at any given time that the nearby grass is more important than standing still for your dismount. Plus, swinging a leg like that is basically impossible in saddles that feature a saddle horn, like a western saddle.

It’s a little hard to see in this photo, but Geralt’s saddle definitely has some kind of high pommel to it- so he’d most likely dismount the normal way. It’s just easier!

If you tried to dismount like that in this western saddle you would definitely bruise something.

In this saddle (a Dressage saddle) you could probably pull it off.. but why?? All that struggle just to slide down on your butt and land funny, sprawled away from your horse. It’s just not worth it.

Steering and Etc.

Believe it or not, most steering movement actually comes from the rider’s weight in the saddle than their grip on the reins. If we’re looking at this from the realm of something like The Witcher (which is probably going to be my go-to media example because it’s still pretty recent) a relaxed turn is going to look like Geralt isn’t doing too much with his upper body, because he’d be weighting his seat bones in the saddle. Despite his saddle looking a little bulky, Roach could definitely feel it and respond accordingly- horses are pretty sensitive little friends and can feel most of what you’re doing up there, including looking down. (Protip, if you’re learning to ride horses, don’t look down- it’ll unbalance your upper body and make you pitch forward, unbalancing your horse and making yourself more likely to fall off)

A good way to have a character look experienced with riding is to describe someone relaxed but upright, shoulders back, hands closed but relaxed on the reins. They don’t have to be bolt upright, but at ease. A good way to describe a character with little to no riding experience would be to describe them as tense, probably hunching forward a little; hands too high or low and reins too long. See the lovely photos below:

A Dressage rider: she’s looking pretty evenly balanced, is sitting tall but not bolt upright, hands are low, elbows relaxed. Wonderful!

A Beginner: Absolutely no hate to beginners! We all have to start somewhere, But there’s definitely a difference in body language between this rider and our dressage rider. (Side note: PLEASE always wear a helmet on a horse, especially if you’re a beginner, good grief)

2. Horse Care

I don’t think too much needs to be said here, but there’s a couple things that are worth noting.

Grooming

Most horses love a good brushing. They’ll even lean into it if you find an itchy spot!

 If your character has a ton of experience, grooming their horse makes a lovely backdrop for conversations. Riders usually brush their horses before and after riding, to remove dirt and mud and sweat. Manes and tails are brushed if you want to be detail oriented, and feet should always be picked out (A good chance for Character B to oogle Character A’s butt, if thats the kind of story you’re writing) to remove dirt and stones. 

When Not Riding

Your furry partner-in-crime should be untacked and eating grass somewhere. Untacked means all gear removed and put away for the day- in stories like The Witcher, tied to a tree branch or a rest area in a halter is fine. As a horse person it wouldn’t make sense to leave their tack on all night- you’d leave it nearby, but not on them. If your characters are just pausing for a break or something, it’s totally ok- but done for the day? Nah. Let your pony be naked.

Injuries

Horses, like most prey animals, will hide injuries and illness until they physically can’t anymore. Small cuts and scrapes, dependent on where they are, will probably not give a physical response unless you manipulate them somehow (cleaning, applying antibiotics, etc). A horse may show discomfort by a number of signs, but if it really hurts your horse will probably shy away from your touch or may lash out at your hands to keep you from touching it. Signs of discomfort can be pinning their ears back against their head (aka Ow Ow OW, DON’T TOUCH IT, I’m UPSET) to straight up trying to run from you if they think you’re going to attempt to touch it (a more severe reaction for a more severe wound, like a deep cut/laceration/puncture etc). If a horse is in very dire straits you might get no reaction at all- your horse might be hanging its head low, not really responding to your voice or touch, appearing bleary eyed or dull eyed or sleepy. Generally that kind of severe behavior change is considered Very Very Bad and definitely grounds to call a vet for, especially if there’s no sign of physical injury.

3. Horse Tack (Equipment!)

Here’s a quick rundown of horse tack.

All these pieces make up the bridle, reins included.

*Side note- Bits are not cruel, and riders choosing to use them with their horses are not abusive. Bits are a tool riders use to communicate with their horses and there are hundreds of metal finishes, textures, shapes and sizes to fit a horse with a bit that makes them happy and keeps them comfortable. There are some horses who refuse to take bits, and their owners usually turn to a bitless bridle to keep them comfortable- however this is not “kinder” just because of the lack of bit. These bridles are just designed to exert gentle pressure to tell the horse to slow or stop instead of the gentle pressure on the bit. Different horses prefer different things, and none of these things are harmful to the horse if used properly and with care.

This is a diagram of a close contact or Hunter saddle, but the terminology generally applies to all different kinds of saddles. Girths are considered their own piece of tack and not as a part of the saddle. 

Riders who are riding consistently usually at least wipe their tack down with a wet cloth after finishing with it for the day. Because tack is almost always leather, well cared for leather lasts a lot longer if cared for. This is also a great thing to have a character talk over in a fic- have them clean tack while having a hard conversation, or maybe show how quick and not-great of a job they do on their tack if they’re angry or trying to get away from another character closeby. Lots of opportunities! (If you really want to get detailed, cleaning usually looks like: a damp cloth to wipe dirt off and then rubbing a leather conditioner into the tack, which may smell lovely or a little weird depending on the brand)

4. Falling off

I see you, whump writers. (and I love you.)

So You Want your Character to Fall Off:

Falling off is rarely graceful. It can be caused by anything from an unexpected trip to your horse spooking at something, to a jump taken at the wrong spot/speed/angle... opportunities are endless. I have fallen off my horse at the walk because he startled at a dog and I slipped to the side, and I have fallen off over jumps, because my horse actively tried to get me off, or because I just wasn’t paying attention and Oops, how’d I get in the dirt? Generally if you’re looking for a reason for your character to fall off, they are endless. If the one at fault is the horse common reasons are the rider becoming unseated and slipping back/forward/sideways by the horse startling (at legitimately anything sometimes, depending on the horse.. let your imagination go wild!) changing speed or direction suddenly. All of these things will affect how your character comes off and how they’ll hit dirt with what body part. IE- pitching forward will probably land you on the top of your shoulders, if you’re lucky- if not, you’ll land on your head. Most people will land on the tops of their shoulders as the instinct to protect their head kicks in, but sometimes gravity is a bitch. It happens.

This is where experience comes in, too- Experienced riders will usually react quicker and will try to save themselves, either grabbing onto their horse’s mane or neck or even just keeping a death grip on the reins as adrenaline kicks in- all of which keeps your upper body higher than your lower and can lead to landing on your bum/side/feet instead of your head. Beginner or inexperienced riders might not react that quickly and end up landing roughly. This is not to say that more experienced riders will always come out less injured than beginners, but that experienced riders sense of self preservation will kick in faster frankly just because they’ve fallen off more. This is also why you see more beginners breaking arms in riding accidents- as you learn to ride you are taught (if you were taught like I was) to NEVER throw your arms out to catch yourself during a fall- it’s more likely that you will land on top of your straight arm and give yourself a wicked compound break. Your instinct changes from trying to save yourself to trying everything you can to staying in your saddle. Self preservation is a wonderful thing!

If Your Character is Sick/Already Injured:

The motion of the horse, even in walk, is going to make them feel worse- especially any injury to the lower stomach area. That’s where the body absorbs most of the motion from the horse’s gaits, especially in the hips/lower abdomen. So if Character A has a stab wound in his stomach and Character B has gotten them into the saddle to bring them to help.... Character A is gonna be in some pretty decent pain until they can dismount. For head injuries the same motion might make them dizzy or nauseous. But, good news! If your character slumps forward completely while keeping their arms on either side of the horse’s neck, they will probably manage to stay in the saddle for a decent amount of time. Their lower body and leg (hopefully still in the stirrups) will keep them in the saddle unless jostled out of it. (This, of course, only making sense if the saddle in question doesn’t have a horn, because otherwise your character won’t be able to slump forward far at all. )If they manage to slip off the horse in this position, they’re going to land head/chest/upper body first, especially if only semi-conscious due to previous injuries. 

If dealing with any other injuries, getting on the horse might be nicer than walking but will definitely not keep anything still- any motion the horse makes will make the rider’s body move and jostle the injury, no matter where the injury is.

5. Wrapping it up: Horse Lingo and Behaviour

Horse terms are easy to find and but a google search away, but here’s some of the main terms:

Gaits: A horse’s movement. Walk, trot, canter and gallop with gallop being the fastest.

Aids: what riders use to communicate with the horse. This includes your hand (on the reins) your leg (squeezing to ask for gaits) and your voice.

(Riders talk to their horses! all the time. Even if just to say good boy/girl. Commonly we say things like hoooh, whoa, easy, no, etc. Sometimes just talking to your nervous horse helps calm them down)

Green horse: Inexperienced horse, usually new to being ridden, usually young.

Mare: Female Horse.

Stallion: Male horse, not neutered. Stallions can have a reputation for being hotheaded and sometimes hard to handle, but not all are like that.

Gelding: Male horse, neutered. Most people who have male horses will refer to them as geldings on paperwork.

Pony: a small horse. Not a baby horse. Just smaller.

Colt: Baby male.

Filly: Baby female.

You can probably use google for anything else without concern that you’re using a term that's unnatural.

Behaviour

My rule of thumb for writing behaviour is this: If it seems like a disney dog in a movie would do it........ it’s safe to say a horse wouldn’t. Writing a horse like a disney dog is too unnatural and will definitely make any horse people reading your story give an eye roll.

An example:

Your character has just dismounted their horse after a long ride.

A horse would: maybe sniff your pockets for treats (especially if you had some before you got on) stand next to you as you talked to someone, try to rub their head on you (scratches!! especially if they’re sweaty) maybe perk up at something in the distance if distracted enough

A horse would not: Shake their head at you, whinny at you, prance around and “smile” at you... roll their eyes at something you said... point like Lassie at something in the distance... etc. 

Horses definitely have personalities! They can be affectionate and snuggly, nervous or brave, flighty or stoic... but they don’t emote the same way a cartoon character would. The best example i’ve seen of horse interaction in media would probably be the horses in Disney’s Brave. If you pay attention to the way horses interact with each other and react to events in the movie, it’s pretty spot on!

Follow your gut. You can still have a horse with a personality, but if it feels too cartoony, it probably is!

This is a great infographic that explains body language as well.

I hope this helps anyone who wants to include more horse interaction in their writing!

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Mabel AU- The Letters

@haberdashing

Martin is an at home care giver, trying to reach the Grandson of his latest client.

This is basically a rewrite of the first episode of Mabel.  There really aren't many direct quotes, only a couple very short ones, everything else is mine.

Thanks for reading!  If you want more of this AU, let me know, or just let me know if you enjoyed!   Another fic of some sort or other will be posted next week!

ARCHIVIST: Hello, you’ve reached Jonathan Sims.  I’m not here to take your call right now.  Please leave a message after the beep.  Thank you.  

[BEEP]

MARTIN: Hey, Jonathan, right?  My name is Martin Blackwood, and I’m with Kings County Home Help?  I’ve been taking care of your grandmother for the past six months.  I’m her at home carer?  I know I probably shouldn’t have your number, but I wanted to check in with you.  Nothing’s wrong.  Nothing’s wrong.  Gertrude Sims is fine.  Good, actually, for her age.  Sorry, is that insensitive?   In any case, I’d like a call back, if you aren’t too busy.  Right.  Let me apologize for how I got your number.  I know it’s probably unorthodox, probably breeching some privacy agreement or something… 

[SIGH]

[ASIDE]

Don’t tell him that, Christ what is wrong with you?

[TO JON]

Right.  Well I got your number from my coworker, Sasha, who’s friends with Tim, who’s friends with you.  And he apparently hasn’t heard from you in a little, and would like him to call you back.  He told Sash to tell me to tell you that, by the way.  That was the price for your number.  Sorry for that.  I’m sure you have …things.  A life in the real world and not in this distant and lovely house.  

…Sorry, that was… Anyways, give me a call back when you can, yeah?  Thanks.  Bye!

[ASIDE] 

Christ!  What’s wrong with you… catch sight of one pretty photo… SHIT, right, hanging up.  

[BEEP]

[MUFFLED THROUGH A POCKET] 

[QUIETLY SINGING TO HIMSELF OVER THE SOUND OF KITCHEN] 

…Onions in the paaaaaan.  Why aren’t you hot enough yeeeet?  The water sizzledddddd, but it isn’t sizzling noooow.  

[NEGLECTED PHONE SOUND] 

[REALIZING]

OH SHIT.  SORRY.  

[BEEP]

[CLEARS THROAT] 

Hi, Mr. Sims.  It’s me again.  It’s Martin.  I… I’m trying to reach you… again.  …As you probably can tell.  It’s just been three days, and I would really like a call back.  I just realized I didn’t give a number or like, I know you can probably figure out that you can reach me through this number, but I didn’t say it and I didn’t tell you when I was available, and maybe that’s why you haven’t gotten back to me.  At least I hope that’s why.  I… I can’t imagine not calling one of my Mum’s doctors back.  Anyways, my number is [CENSORED] in case you can’t just ring back or something.  Maybe your phone blocks unknow numbers and you haven’t even gotten this.  Maybe I was listed as private and you couldn’t call back.  Maybe you’re very polite and didn’t want to bother me when you didn’t know my schedule.  I’m available from 2-5pm and in the evenings after 9pm.  Or maybe you’ve got phone anxiety.  I know I do, heh.  I’m sweating just leaving you this message.  

Or maybe you’re just busy.  

Or maybe you tried to call, and I just didn’t get it.  The reception isn’t great out here, as …you probably know.  Given you grew up here.  But anyways I have made sure I can get your message even with the dead-phone zones.  It’s all set up.  So… just needing a call back when you can.  Well, not needing.  But… I’d like one.  Thanks.  Bye.  

[BEEP]

Hi.  It’s me …again.  Just… trying to reach you.  Whatever.  

[BEEP] 

Call me back and let me know you aren’t dead in a ditch somewhere, okay?  Sash says Tim is really worried… And… I might be too.  Not that I even know you.  Not really.  So if you aren’t rotting in some hole somewhere, give me a call back, please?

[BEEP]

Where did you go?  

[BEEP]

Hi.  It’s me.  …I’ve heard a lot about you, you know?  Mostly from you Grandmother, Gertrude.  

[ASIDE] 

Christ, Martin.  He knows his grandmother’s name.  

[TO JON]

Right.  Anyhow.  She’s told me a lot of stories, you know?  She’s actually pretty sharp.  Most of the time, anyhow.  Mostly lucid.  I’m not sure if that’s all because of her medicine or what.  I’ve… I help a lot of old people, at the end of their lives.  And well… when I say she’s sharp, I mean that she is sharp comparatively, and also just remarkably so.  Her words are confident, and considered.  She doesn’t waste words, but she doesn’t shy away from telling stories.  (I’m sure it’s just because she has no one else to talk to.  Not even you.)  But… you’ve stopped feeling like a real person on the other end of the line.  That’s part of why I wanted to call?  I guess?  The longer that it’s been since my first message, the more I doubt myself for calling, and why I called.  Sorry, then, for wasting your time.  Thinking of you more like a book character, than someone with feelings and thoughts and a life.  Someone who I know too much about for us to be casual strangers, even if I am a complete stranger to you.  It just feels like a weird imbalance, you know?  

Also… it’s a bit lonely out here, you know?  Gertrude has a lot of old photographs of you.  None of them are recent.  And I know it isn’t my business, but… never mind.  It isn’t my business… and I get it.  

But… she still has your photos up.  It’s my job to dust them.  So, every week or so, I get a really good look at them.  There’s one of you on the tire swing out back… it’s still back there, you know?  You have mud all over your dungarees.  And in your hair.  Then there’s one… you look about 7?  Your hair is in pig tails, and you are scowling at something off to your right.  I don’t know what it is, and I know I shouldn’t find that kind of adorable, but I do.  And there’s one of you in uni.  You’re flipping off the camera and your hair is short and you’re wearing eyeliner.  You look some odd combination of pissed off and like you’re having the time of your life.  

[ASIDE]

And really, really, really hot.  Christ, Martin, keep it together.  You are literally on the phone with him, and you haven’t even talked to him.  Jesus!

[TO JON]

I.. wish I could have known you then.  That’s the oldest you look in these.  Most of these are pictures of you when you were little.  Mostly just you.  A few of your dad when he was young, and one of your parents.  She’s pregnant, and it’s sunset.  They look so …happy.  Christ, I’m sorry about what happened to them.  I… I didn’t really know my dad either.  

Sorry.  This isn’t about me.  

I’m calling because this place is… spooky.  Spooky like a dark fairy tale.  

Everything here is a bit… magical and creepy.  

This house is old.  Like a museum.  Dusty boxes in the attic, full of treasures and dust the relics of the past, like the Long past.  Not just the past of one lifetime.  The garden is overgrown, despite my best efforts.  Sometimes, Gertrude comes out and helps me garden.  Usually in her chair.  Mostly I just wheel here out so she can get some sun while I work.  That’s where I hear most of the stories about you.  

It’s overgrown with twisting vines and the most beautiful roses I have ever seen, with scary-long thorns.  

I feel like I’ve walked into the setting for a classic.  Like Jane Eyre or Pride and Prejudice, or hell, even Tolkien.  Or even Grimm’s fairytales.  The original, dark ones.  

It’s… unsettling.  Especially when it’s foggy out.  

The rest of the hills disappear into the fog and the condensation clings to the flowers, desaturated with the thickness of the moisture in the air, and the everything is coated in the most delicate, perfect little water droplets.  

Anyhow.  The reason I’m really calling… are the letters.  

I was helping Gertrude move some things up to the attic.  She’s one of the practical sorts of old people.  She isn’t afraid of her death.  She wants everything to be easy on you, you know?  Make sure you don’t have to go through too much stuff when she passes on.  I’ve lived with a lot of people through their deaths.  It’s nice… making sure no one dies alone.  Making sure they are comfortable.  Making it as painless as possible.  

[ASIDE]

Lord knows my efforts were never good enough for my mother… but if I can help other people…

[TO JON]

I know it’s a little morbid.  But I like it.  I feel… useful.  I’m good at it.  I’m good at keeping up conversations, and at cooking, and cleaning, and providing medical assistance, as needed.  Not that I’m an actual doctor, but I, you know, do have a lot of training.  

Anyway.  The letters.  I was helping her move some stuff into the attic, and bringing down some older boxes so she could go through them and decide what she was ready to toss, when I found them.  This box full of letters.  Hundreds of them.  All unopened.  Sealed with a kiss.  Lipstick red.  Red as dying embers.  Stamped returned to sender.  Slightly scorched around the edges.  Tied in bundles.  Identical envelops.  Identical loose, looping cursive.  All from someone named Agnes?  All addressed to Gertrude.  

That would be fine, I guess?  

But she screamed when she opened it.  An inhuman sound.  

Like the sound was ripped from her.  

And, I have never cared for a more grounded person.  I have never seen her anything but… well not completely calm all the time, but mostly calm, you know?  I’ve seen her sharp, I’ve seen her annoyed.   Heh, half the time it looks like she wants to judge me, but then doesn’t… if that makes sense?  Mostly she looks… like she knows so much more than I do and that she is calm in her knowledge?  I’ve seen so much as a carer.  There isn’t much that rattles me.  Not death, not illness, not panic, but… but this was different.  

After that… she was shaken badly.  Screamed for what seemed like hours, then just stared at me and said “I’m going into the ground for you.”  I… I couldn’t calm her down.  Not until late evening, and I didn’t even have a break because the relief carer was off sick.  

I finally got her to bed, and… I had to take another look.  That’s when I got a good look at the envelopes.  I… I want to open them.  I haven’t.  I know I shouldn’t…. but…. I want to know what could have shaken her that badly?  Someone that stable and grounded, you know?  

Heh, maybe you could call me back and make sure I don’t do something stupid.  And ya know, let me know that you aren’t’ dead in a ditch.  Tim’s started texting me directly now!  He’s… he’s really worried about you.  

Anyhow, I just need to know-

[BEEP]

[CONTINUED BEEPING]

AUTOMATED VOICE: The voicemail inbox for [Jonathan Sims] is full. Please call again later. 

[DIAL TONE] 

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Hi! So, this is just smut, I’ve been in a mood. It’s not even the same POV, but I decided halfway through my fantasy about shaving Harry’s face so I could see the curl of his lips, it would fit in this universe. Or not, but I don’t think you all will mind, 😉!! Enjoy!

Day ?: The One With The Mustache

"Is there a reason you are wearing so many clothes?" He asked from the French doors separating our bathroom from the bedchamber.

It's not a ton of clothes, not really, a thigh high robe and some strategic silk rigging beneath. It is, however, way more coverage than every other greeting Harry has gotten from me since we moved in together if he's been away more than a night.

There is a plan though. I have an agenda to carry out this evening. Things have gotten out of hand. I love my boyfriend, even have an affection for the dirtbag college kid on a worldwide backpacking adventure thing he has going on. Some affection, but I miss the way his lips move when they are unobstructed, when he speaks and when they touch my body.

He's been scruffy off and on since we met. Quarantine has gone on a lot longer than we expected,honestly, and everything is overgrown. My hair is super long and my brows are a bit unkempt, I know, but Im going to need the facial scruff he grew out of laziness and kept out of relish, to go.  I kinda like the dimple peeking beneath the 70's porn stache sometimes. I can at least see the camp value and the era reference he revers, but I really miss his mouth.

The structure of his jaw and strength of his chin, the smooth, perfect skin under my hand. I have a plan to get him to shave it. A good one, I think?

"Would we call this a lot of clothing?" I pretend to be confused and run a finger beneath the lace and silk to pull it out so a shadow of full breast is on display.

Harry groans. The smile playing at the corners of my lips is suppressed, I gape my eyes and tilt my head in faux confusion.

"Not a lot, but way more than you usually favor me with when I've been away." His eyes have zeroed in on my cleavage.

"Ahh, well, maybe I want you to take it off me."

He's already moving. "I can do that!" His fingers are also at the top button of the peasant shirt he is wearing.

I'm laughing, "looks like you've got yourself taken care of!"

"Now you!" His hands are on my shoulders, trying to push the robe off.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" I chide.

"What, why?" He looks bewildered, and I suppose we always move at a hasty pace, except the first time, so slow down or wait aren't words he hears on my lips often.

"I have a plan for you, a surprise." His eyebrows raise and he's smirking.

"Yeah!" That expression solidifies my plan. I can't see the glory of it for his facial hair friend. I do need one more go with it though, for posterity's sake.

"Yeah! So, you keep doing what you were doing." His hands are already popping the button on his classic fit jeans. "Good boy."  I slither by him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, and my breasts to his chest. I'm even more obvious when I bend down to the bath, and light the cinnamon candle he keeps there. I make sure he can see the bottom of my ass cheeks beneath my silk drawers. "Was the drive miserable?"

"The drive?" Ah, attention diverted. I smile over my shoulder and his eyes glance up to my face. "No, no, actually it was lovely. Just missing you."

"You look like you've had a long couple days. Hop in the tub,"

"Are you gently saying I look dirty?" He's joking, but spot on.

I sit at the back of the tub on the stool I've placed there, pulling up my robe so my knickers flash. "I'm going to wash you up." I give him the grin I know he loves. "Then i have another plan of how we can get dirty again."

His pants hit the floor and he's going right along with me. I chuckle when he splashes some water over the claw foot rim. "Ok!" He looks up at me.

"Get wet." I tell him.

"You too."

"Already taken care of." He groans and turns his whole body around to bury his head between my thighs. "Hold on!" I delay. "Let me pamper you."

"Then let me smell you." he looks up at me and it's like seeing his devastating eyes, squared. The water is just below his chin, so he has a handsome, wet haired twin. He looks so enticing, his eyes so magnetic I nearly forget my plan."

"I wanted to wash you up." I lean forward so he has a good view of my chest again.

Harry pushes me back and drifts his hand low. "Let me get dirtier first." He's edging my panties aside and leaning in. I can hear the audible inhale and I'm convinced. "Ill even leave your clothes on, play by the rules!" His nose glances up the gatherings of my clitoral hood and hits my center while he gives me a textured kiss on my opening.

I guess I'm having my mustache ride now. "Yeah." And my head gets soft on my neck. "Let me stand up, you'll hurt your back." He nods and comes to his knees at the edge of the tub. The stool clatters behind me as I step up to his mouth. I push back my robe and he pulls the scrap of silk bunched over one labia all the way to one side.

His grip on my ass cheek alone could still me in the moment, but the thumb he hooks inside me, with unerring accuracy on my spongy spot, anchors me to this act, this moment, his face. The bristles of his mustache prickle at my swelling lips and I sigh. He smiles and swipes his face over the angles where my hips meet my torso. He looks proud, and it does feel nice. I may as well enjoy it while It lasts.

It's past the stage where it scratched the tender pink skin of my pussy, it's softer and textured and smells of me when he kisses me after he's given me head.

Maybe I won't shave it?

Or, I can just let it grow back to enjoy all the stages again.

Like this one, where it tickles and smoothes over me top to tail when he gives me the long broad stroke of his tongue, just the way I like. It does blunt the pressure a bit, so that's another point for team shave. The gentle wet glide up and over me over and over has my hips going.

His thumb is providing pressure from the inside as I ride his tongue where his mouth has latched onto my clit. "Oh fuck, Harry!" My neck has gone completely soft, and when I see his other hand working over his thick cock, I'm not sure how my knees hold up.

I'm afraid to put so much pressure on his jaw, But then the electricity gathering in my veins snaps and the seize rolls up my spine and my muscles relax. The choice is out in my hands and all my weight comes down on him. His busy hand stops to wrap around my waist while he gentles his tongue over my leavings and nuzzles his mustache over my trimmed mound and caresses me softly from the inside out.

"Mmmmm." He nips my thigh and licks me once more. I push his head away and collapse backward nearly tripping over the stool.

"Damn." Is the only word I can find.

"Ready to take off the robe and get in with me?" His slim eyebrow is high and his dimple is dented deeply.

"No," I giggle in my boneless state and lean forward to kiss his messy mouth. The mustache captures more of my flavor and I can smell myself while I taste his tongue covered in my release. "You're really very dirty, still." We both chuckle. I stare in his eyes and take out the clip holding his curls back. They bounce over my forehead. "Let me wash your hair now you've taken such good care of me."

He pecks my lips, it tickles. "Alright baby." He settles into the water and dips below, the tan of his skin and black or his tattoos blurring around the edges. He looks like something out of a surrealist movie; I ache over it. I trace a bird as he surfaces before focusing on his hair. I run my hands through the lush whirls and make sure it's wet before putting a dollop of shampoo into my hand and onto his head. I rub it in and get a good lather before scratching his scalp and massaging behind his ears. He's moaning and his dick is back to full mast from the attention.

"Who knew your scalp was an errogeneous zone?" I whisper into his ear.

"You make my whole body alive." He says and kisses me before in playfully submerge him and work out the lather with my fingers.

The conditioner is slick through his tresses and I let it sit while I massage his shoulders.

"Are you going to do this every time I come home? Might make leaving worth it." He looks  back. "Almost."

"No," I lean in again. "I'm buttering you up."

"Whatever you want, it's yours." He moans over a tight knot in working out. "Consider me buttered."

"I want." I kiss his cheek. The corner of his mouth, slick my tongue quickly at the curl of his top lip I love so. He's turned into me and his breath pants over my mouth. "To shave you." He narrows his eyes before I complete the almost kiss we've been breathing.

"Shave what?" Oh, I forgot I shaved his balls that one time.  He palms his jewels. "I've been keeping that up."

"No, not there." I kiss him, and the mustache interferes with the lip bite I try for. So I chew it a little. I hope ha catches my drift as I confirm it has to go for myself.

"My mustache?" He pulls back to look. "You seemed to like it a moment ago.

"I do, and you could always grow it back. But, I miss your face, and the way your smooth jaw feels on my neck, my thighs. Your lips, I need unfettered access to them." I'm saying all this a hairsbreath from his mouth.

"I like it." He harrumphs.

"I like it too. But not as much as I like you clean shaven." I finally kiss him. "I'll reward you! Shave and a haircut for my bits?" I let my robe Hit the ground then.

"You want me to cut my hair?" He's smirking. He knows how I like his long hair. I confessed it was my favorite.

"No, but my deal wasn't as cute without it."

"Alright love, so long as I can grow it back."

"It's not gonna take you 26 years again. You can grow a mustache now Harry! Triumph completed." We are both laughing as I grab a towel and he's stepped out while I dry him from the bottom up. I move the stool and pull out the kit I readied.  "Have a seat."

"When does your top come off." He gives his cock a lazy pull and it's still chubbed. It's distracting; I'm impatient to get to that later.

"Well, since you're starting to look like you actually bathe," I roll my eyes. "I'll give you a little now."

"How does this work? One nip for half of my mustache? What do I get for the beard?"

I slide a bra strap down to the crook of my elbow and know my nipple presses up and out of it. I straddle a thigh too and grab the towel I soaked in hot, hot water and wrung out. "Close your eyes."

"Then I miss your nipple." He pulls the fabric down farther, and once again his mustache tickles over my body, his tongue on the peak of my breast and the hard suck make up for it.

"Good things come to those who wait."I remind him and buss his wet lips. I'll see more of their see pink color with out his facial hair as wel. "Lean your head back and close your eyes."

I wrap the towel around his tipped back face and he sighs. The bra is gone before the 30 seconds are over. His eyes naturally come open when I take off the towel, but before he can give some cheeky comment to accompany his widened eyes, I turn on the trimmer.

"That sound usually means something different?" I'd blush if he didn't like using my vibe on me so much.

"Does it?" I step closer and my thigh grazes his shaft.

"I guess not."

"Tighten your lip?" He makes a face but complies and shrugs as if to ask if he's got it.

"Perfect!" I kiss his forehead and trim his mustache down to stubble, continuing on to his cheeks. I sigh. "Hi handsome!"

"I've been here." He says.

"I just haven't been able to see your pretty face." I pucker his lips and kiss them and he raspberries a breath out.

"Alright, I get it, you don't like it!"

"Not really, but I like you!" I straddle his lap to spread the shaving cream.

"You didn't even like it between your thighs?" He cups my ass and his fingers linger at my entrance. I suck in a breath.

"This would be sexier if you didn't look like Harry Claus." I giggle.

"It would be sexier with my beard." He pouts. "You really didn't like it." I slowly smooth the razor over his cheek, he moves with me like a dance. We rock and he rolls just the way I need him to, flexing and tightening his jaw to make the skin taut so I don't nick him.

Once his face and chin are clean, I stand back and slide off my panties before stepping in and gesturing for him to tighten his lip. I wick one side free of hair, and wipe the area to kiss it. "I did like when you ate my pussy with it, especially today, before the stubble kinda scratched me sometimes. But the full mustache felt nice, if it didn't tickle." I take off the other side of his mustache as well, wipe his face and sit full across him with his weeping shaft between us. I languidly kiss him, the way he loves, and he may not have known the mustache impeded. "I don't like anything getting between me and this mouth!" My hand slides between us and I grip him tight. "Or this cock." And I slide my bare skin over him hoping he catches the other surprise I have for him.

I'm pressed back on the vanity top with my toes clutching the lip and my hair mussed against the mirror with my beautiful man between my thighs a moment later

"Nothing between us?" His tip is resting impatiently at my opening.

"IUD is in. Play through- ahhhh!" The words aren't over my lips before he's balls deep inside me.

It's rough, my head bounces on the mirror and the slaps of our skin fill the air.

It's perfect. The hour long foreplay means I'm dripping onto his neatly trimmed bush already, only an easy give at his considerable intrusion.

"Fuck, Harry!" I say after aso close already.

"You about to tap out?" He looks amused. "I'm just home."

"What can I say?" I moan over a deep stroke, and my fingers find my clit to help myself along. "I just needed some firm," my other hand sweeps over his jaw, "smooth," I wick my thumb over his upper lip. "Strokes!" And then My blood is fizzing through my veins and my hand loses its rhythm.

Harry fucks me through the denouement, and then I'm flipped onto my belly, my toes leaving the floor occasionally with his powerful thrusts.

Hours later, he's looking at himself in the mirror where he's shaved again. Against the grain, so no stubble troubles my thighs. "You really won't miss it, at all?"

"You can grow it back." I shrug, "At some point, I'm sure I'll miss my mustache rides."

[the-moon-prince]

The Last Of us~Kurapika x Reader ~Chapter V

AN: Hi my lovely fellows!

This chapter contains a mention of sexual abuse. I understand how hurtful this topic may be to a lot of people (me included). Likewise, I'll mark it at the start and the end, so you don't have to read it if you prefer. I made sure for people to be able to read the chapter without reading forcefully that part. I added this as a form of venting. I feel like it's an avoided topic, and it's my form to show support to other trauma survivors. This was made with the only intention to comfort. If something is bad written or harmful, please tell me. I also ask for your understanding if you plan on commenting, thank you very much!

I wish you a pleasant read, and I hope you’ll enjoy the new chapter of my story.  (Chapter I) (Chapter II) (Chapter III) (Chapter IV ) (Chapter VI coming soon!)

Paring: Kurapika Kurta x GN! Reader

Word count: 2 888

TW: Mentions of sexual abuse / Mentions of abuse ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) appeared more comfortable around Kurapika. Occasionally letting their ears escape while staying in the privacy of their houses.

But there was still something mysterious about (Y/n). Some of what they didn't say. Kurapika was filled with doubts and fears because of that. He pondered scenarios, each one worse than the other. Are they lying to me? Maybe they're in some kind of danger or distress. Creating a vicious and unhealthy cycle in Kurapika's spirit. 

The two were patient in the relationship, neither comprehending fully how to give or receive affection. But despite the time they had been together, (Y/n) seemed resistant to accept fondness. Particularly physical. They had never tried to hold hands. When Kurapika attempted it, they recoiled in alarm more than once. In the few hugs they had given each other, (Y/n) shivered. Loud noises made them shake and jump, and they hand a list of tics as sudden shaking chills or protectively shrugging shoulders. Kurapika could understand that, he had tics as well. But his partner seemed triggered by his touch. They continued to be protective of their eyes. It was normal they didn't meet his eyes often, however, they tried to hide her eyes whenever they looked more cat-like.

~

Suspicions of his beloved being at risk grew bigger. He didn't want to, he couldn't permit himself to lose someone else. What kind of cruel mockery of life would be that, when finally there was someone like him-Someone who understood and supported him-was erased from this plane. The idea that these funny tail and ears weren't going to survive grieved Kurapika. The plausibility of not seeing those (curly/wavy/messy/straight) (hair/color) strands nevermore haunted him. Undoubtedly, it didn't end there. Fury consumed him when he conceived the idea of someone injuring more further a being so humane, kind hearted, and compassionate as (Y/n). Hadn't both of them grieved enough? But what they were suffering, adding would be disastrous.

Yet, (Y/n) didn't utter a single word regarding the matter.

~

Kurapika entered a state of fright. At that limit, he needed at the very least to know what was going on. He showed up that night at (Y/n)'s residence, knowing that they had no guard at the hospital and that they would be there. He had a spare key and wasn't abnormal to simply arrive at the other's place. Either of them had the habit of picking phone calls or answering messages.

Except for the scene he arrived at was abnormal.

He saw (Y/n) from behind sitting on the floor, a thing they never did, and if anything was remarkable about them, it was how strict they were with their customs. They had their elbows leaning on the coffee table, looking down at something. They did not react upon his arrival. (Y/n) never missed a noise, even less the one of a door opening. Yet, they remain immobile as if the lives of the universe depended on them staying frozen in place. Kurapika approached them. To see that there was a call in progress on their phone resting upon the table. (Y/n) did not dare to see the phone directly. Their hands held their head by the forehead, their gaze hidden behind their (curls/waves/strands). Just as Kurapika opened his mouth to speak, a female voice came from the phone's speaker-"So you won't answer me?"-silence again-" My baby... I know you think I broke you..."-the voice was sweet and honeyed, full of compassion"-Who could that woman possibly be? Why did she address (Y/n) like that, what did she mean by "break". Kurapika craved to question (Y/N) what, for love for his clan, was happening. He was relucted from doing so, he could perhaps extract information from the person on the other end of the line, taking advantage of the fact that she believed that (Y/n) was alone.-"But that's not true! I didn't do anything, my love. You were born broken, your demoniac eyes are the proo-" (Y/n) abruptly cut the call before the sentence finished. They didn't turn to see Kurapika, despite knowing he was beside them. 

Kurapika had his breakpoint. "What's happening (Y/n)?! Who was that?! You can't keep things as such from me?! Do you understand that?!"-he started to scold, raising his voice. His eyes would look scarlet if it weren't for the contacts he was wearing at the moment. Someone else knew about (Y/n) identity. Who can say such atrocities? On top, with such a sound and sweet voice, it was twisted. She was talking about their eyes. Did she want them? Was she behind (Y/n)'s eyes? All these questions flooded incessantly in Kurapika's mind. (Y/n) hid upthrusting their shoulders and covering their face with their hands, their whole figure was shaking. They drew their ears back and adhered the tail to their body, probably changed on instinctual reaction.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry"-(Y/n) started to lament, voice quivering. Their breaths were heavy as if it were inhumanly tough to keep breathing. Whoever the other person was, were bad enough to provoke a position of panic on (Y/n).   Kurapika knew that and seeing that getting angry only seemed to affect the feeble trembling figure in front of him, he decided to calm down. He was greatly concerned that someone he esteemed as highly as (Y/n) was in that position. It was not wise to let his humor aggravate things. 

He lowered himself to their level and sat down next to them. He raised his hand to stroke their hair. As soon as the tips of his fingers touched the (curls/waves/bangs/strands) he heard a heavy "Don't!" and backed up his hand.-"It's alright. I'm not touching you. Still, I require you to explain to me what happens. Who was that woman?" Besides offering physical contact, Kurapika had no distinct idea how he could comfort (Y/n). He felt frustrated and powerless.

"My mum."-they whimpered, (Y/n) was distressed although not crying. Not a single tear came out during all that night. Kurapika no longer understood.

"Weren't your parents deceased?"- He felt that they had lied to him, and it sure bothered him that he kept that from him. But this was not the time to discuss that part.

"No, my family is dead..."-(Y/n) began to breathe more calmly. They readjusted, moving their hands away from their faces to hold their arms. "They did not raise me. My grandparents did. When my grandad got ill and died I left to study. They always lived far away." -(Y/n) didn't look at Kurapika at any time. They kept their gaze at a standstill. Nevertheless, he could notice that their pupils were very dilated, reminding him of the stare of a scared soaked cat.

"What did she mean by break you?"-he continued trying to maintain a moderate voice. He was somehow scared to hear the answer. It would hurt to know that someone hurt (Y/n).

"I wasn't the legal age. Someone had to take my guard when my grandfather died."-Their face stayed still in a sober expression.

"Did they hurt you?"- He felt progressively more scared and worse.

"It's not important. I don't believe it's something you desire to know." -Even with everything happening, (Y/n) refused to speak. How could they be so obstinate?

"(Y/n), this cannot continue. I require to know. You are not delusional, you know you have to tell me."-Kurapika got a heavy sigh.

"They never loved me, you know? I was never certain why. I tried my best. Maybe they were expecting a human... Maybe they blamed me for their separation...Perhaps they were disappointed to learn that I have a disability."- Kurapika didn't know that (Y/n) could have a difficulty, they never mentioned any medical condition. He would ask about that a little further. They were finally discussing if he interrupted now, possibly the opportunity will not present again.-"I spent most of my time in the university's boarding. Only I wasn't allowed to stay on vacation, so I would go home. Sometimes they put a muzzle on me so I wouldn't bite - although I never bit anyone. They put an electric collar on me once. I guess they were scared of me. "It's for your good because we love you, and you have to behave. Good kitties don't scratch and don't bite." my mother told me. They believed it to be true. They did many things to me under that pretext..."-They stopped there. Still having something to say, but not wanting to.

(WARNING: MENTION OF SEXUAL ABUSE AHEAD)

"Did they... something else to you?"-Kurapika asked again. At that point, he was not surprised (Y/n) never mentioned their parents and did not consider them family. His anger was replaced by compassion. Expecting the worst.

"Yes."- there was the resistance again.

"What did they do?"-(Y/n) made a little movement with their head still hesitant.

"My mother did. She told me she had to check I was okay. Because I was not like other children..."-They lowered their gaze. Kurapika felt a chill. Neither of them was foolish, they knew what was to come. (Y/n) shrugged even more and started to play with their (color) hair -"It happened more than once, I don't remember precisely how many, but more than once for sure. She ordered me to... take off my clothes and... to lay down. It was unpleasant. For a long... for a very long time, I... I denied it. I told myself that she was an adult... that she knew better. If I doubted a bit more... If I weren't so naive... I would have done things differently, you know?"

(END OF THE MENTION OF SEXUAL ABUSE)

Kurapika felt horrible. It felt awful seeing someone he loved so much like this, someone innocent who didn't deserve anything of what happened. For the first time, he didn't know what to say. He had no idea how to act. It was something he did not understand.-"And the rest of your family? You couldn't ask other Uniliums for help?" he probed, wanting to understand their circumstances. 

"I tried. I ran away twice. They discovered me at the first try. Two adults facing a 9-year-old child. They clearly gave me the beating of my life.

The following was 4 years after, more prepared. When I returned to our community, I found out that they got butchered not long ago."-(Y/n) lamented. It was probably what ached most of all. That they got that tiny hope and comfort taken away. -"I'm convinced if they had known, they would have helped and appealed to my favor. I concentrated on my studies in the faith to forget. It was also my opening to escape. I like my career, you know? Although my father told me during the 10 years it lasted that it was disappointing and worthless."-they added with a trembling smile. Those were the two details that provided them any comfort.

"Why didn't you tell me any of that?"- Kurapika asked once more. 

(Y/n) raised their shoulders.-"I don't know. I was scared and ashamed. I was afraid that you would hate me. Perhaps I imagined you would be disappointed in me."-They were conscious that it was not a rational fear. But it was stronger than them.

"How could I hate you? It wasn't your fault."-He comforted. Full of regret for what happened-"It was not your responsibility at any time."

"I know... Though, still, sometimes I wonder if it was. Even acknowledging that it is a lie." (Y/n) sniffled without shedding any tears.

"They won't do a single thing to you, ever again. I'm present now, and I'll make sure they don't put a finger on you. You are safe. Okay?"-The blonde man secured.

"Thank you."-They smiled again. Many would have said it was the same smile. But for Kurapika it was different. This time it was a touch more melancholic than usual, but there was a side of profuse relief. They relaxed and their ears were forward, symbolizing more relaxed humor. 

"It's impressive you succeed the Hunter exam possessing a physical disability." It was Kurapika's crafty way of questioning the subject.

"It was quite difficult. I was born with a respiratory condition, so I cannot develop many physical abilities. I am not physically powerful and I have restricted time to run. I depend greatly on my ability Nen and my wits. However, I won't allow that to stop me. Nobody tells me what I am capable of or not."-(Y/n) bragged. They could be proud. Even with that disadvantage, they had come a long way. That night Kurapika was aware of how strong his companion was. It didn't seem like it, at no time did any of the people who saw (Y/n) imagine all this side of them. After so much, they stayed strong-minded and sweet. They were truly brave. They were both survivors after all. They had both succeeded to get so far despite all the grief. And they both held pride in that. For Kurapika, the fact that (Y/n) had a more sensitive and altruistic side did not make them weak. Of course, they were qualities disapproved among several Hunters.

However, no other hunter held him during his afflicted moments. He could be vulnerable with (Y/n), and he was safe with them.

"Can you remain with me tonight, please?"

Kurapika didn't expect that request.

It was the first time one of them stayed overnight in the other's place. They had stayed really late together, but they didn't stay until the next morning. Plus, knowing how reserved (Y/n) could sometimes be, he assumed they would favor time alone following such an intense experience. Nevertheless, there was something so personal and vulnerable about that request. Kurapika felt the immense desire to stay and protect them.

"Of course."-He couldn't help but use a soft tone.

During all that conversation (Y/n), although exhibited fear, did not manifest weakness at any time. They stayed dignified without losing control.

"Can we lay down, please? I feel a bit tired."-they called after a moment of silence. Their voice resonated dull and tired.

"We can do whatever you desire."- Kurapika smiled at them, his only preoccupation at that instant was to ensure the well-being of the person he treasured, and their head started to bob. (Y/n) slowly nodded and got up. They silently asked him to follow them and padded to their chamber. 

It was the first time that Kurapika entered their bedroom as well. It was fairly more adorned. It had a relatively big bed, with light cloths and a  fluffy (color) colored bedspread. Without neglecting its childish side, it was full of stuffed animals of all kinds, colors, and sizes. Several shelves were overflowing with books. Shelving with toys and cute figures, alongside a record player and a cloth case with music records was also in the room. Next to the bed was a stool with a lamp and a framed photo. The apartments had their private bathroom, on which (Y/n) entered. Kurapika sat on the bed- or in the space left without stuffed animals- and waited. No longer than 15 minutes should have passed before (Y/n) came out with slightly wet hair, and a matching (color) pajama shorts and shirt. Kurapika didn't identify the exact scent at the time, but they smelled good, familiar. (Y/n) took the stuffed animals and arranged them as best they could on an individual loveseat.

"I apologize for this disorder."-they pointed to the bathroom door.-"There is the other toilet, so you can use it whenever you desire. I have each item, please serve yourself."-They laid on the left side of the bed and rested their head on the puffy pillow.

Kurapika merely laid down next to them, not too close. He was uncertain if it was correct to hug them or stay near. (Y/n) arranged the beddings covering the two. They smelled identical at them.

"Kurapika..."-an reluctant voice called his name.

"Yes?"-It felt strange, being in that place that, until then, seemed confidential. But it wasn't unpleasant at all.

"May I hug you?"-The request was bashful and quiet.

He thought of just opening his arms but preferred to give a vocal response as well.-"Of course you may."

(Y/n) approached him steadily. They proceed to timidly embrace him, after their arms were wrapped around him, they snuggled their face on him.-"You're warm... I feel ... comfortable ... with you. Which is bizarre. I don't feel secure with anyone since I was 6 years old."

Kurapika held them protectively. He felt profoundly touched by that strangely honest statement. He attempted to affectionately stroke their (curls/waves/locks). They allowed it.-"I love you (Y/n)."-He couldn't think about anything else he wanted them to know.

"I adore you, Kurapika." 

(Y/n) ultimately permitted themselves to be vulnerable with Kurapika too. It felt good. It was good for them to have someone so strong to have their backs and accompany them.

They could hold each other.

[elisaphoenix13]

In Sickness And Health

Quill knew Scott was sick before the younger man even woke up. He was running a fever that concerned the god to the point that he asked Bruce to come up and check on him. He could have called Stephen but the man had his hands full with seven kids on a daily basis. Bruce just had a Norse legend and the occasional time a member of the team got hurt. He told Quill it was just a common bug and though Scott's fever was a little high, that it wasn't anything to worry about unless it went up. So Quill left Scott sleeping upstairs with Emir and he went down to make some coffee. One of the few things he was allowed to do.

He had to wait until Cassie got up which thankfully wasn't much longer after he got up. Scott was the only one who wasn't a morning person, and he had even more of an excuse since he was sick. When Cassie came downstairs still half asleep and in her pajamas, Quill raised an eyebrow when he found her wearing an oversized t-shirt that went down to her thighs. No bottoms that he was aware of either but he wasn't about to check.

"Is that my shirt?"

"Mine now." She mumbles and opens the fridge.

"So my husband hates when I wear a shirt and my daughter steals them to use as pajamas." Quill snorts and drinks some of his coffee.

"At least they get used."

"Can't say that about con--"

"Ugh! No! Shut up, it's too early for that!" Cassie smacks his arm before digging some things out for breakfast. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Whatever is fine. Your dad is sick though, so you think you can make him something when he wakes up?" Quill sighs. "I'd do it myself but...you know."

Cassie nods. "Yeah. Is he okay?"

"Bruce says he'll be fine and Emir is with him."

"Emir is always with him." Cassie rolls her eyes. "Like Flynn is with you."

They both look down at Quill's leg where Flynn had attached himself to the god's sweatpants as soon as he got up. The kit fortunately spent some time with Emir now that the tiger was here, but he was still very clingy with Quill and the tiger was very unlikely to leave the bedroom today. Scott needed his attention more than Flynn did. Cassie started to make some eggs and bacon after putting her hair up and Quill grabbed the orange juice from the fridge and sat down at the table while waiting for breakfast. He mindlessly fiddles on his phone and takes an occasional sip of coffee until a plate full of food is placed in front of him and he smiles at Cassie.

"Thanks Sunshine." Quill puts his phone away and pours her some orange juice as she sits down.

"You're welcome." She had also put some food in Flynn's bowl at some point so the kit had jumped off Quill's leg to go eat. "You have work today?"

"Nope. Gonna be a couch potato and keep an eye on your dad. Would have taken the day off if I did."

"Sounds like a plan." Cassie agrees and eats some of the hash browns she had also made. "I didn't have any plans today and I want to help take care of Dad."

Quill sighs with relief. "Oh thank god. I was worried about food."

The two look up when they hear the elevator arrive on the floor and Maggie and Paxton step out. Quill looks at them in surprise because he hadn't been expecting them and neither Cassie nor Scott had mentioned anything. Cassie looked just as surprised.

"Mom! What are you two doing here?" Cassie asks.

"We told your dad we were coming to visit for the weekend. Did he forget?" Maggie asks.

"Probably." Cassie gets up with her plate and Paxton sputters and covers his eyes.

"Cassie, maybe you should put some pants on?" He suggests.

"I have shorts on."

"I was wondering about that." Quill says and shovels the rest of his breakfast into his mouth before getting up with his plate. "Just letting you guys know that Scotty is sick but you're welcome to the room you used before."

"Alright. Thank you." Maggie turns toward the stairs and screams.

Quill looks over in alarm and finds Emir at the top of the stairs and growling at Maggie and Paxton. Before he can race over and stop the tiger from trying to pounce on the supposed intruders, Scott shuffles out of the bedroom in his pajamas and pats Emir's head.

"'s okay. Be good." Scott mumbles and then looks at the stairs reluctantly.

"Baby, go back to bed. I'll come check on you in a little bit and Cass will make you something to eat." Quill says.

Scott never looked so relieved about not having to climb or descend stairs, and went back into the bedroom without a fuss. Quill was pretty sure that he didn't even realize that Maggie and Paxton were there. The younger man looked miserable and Quill made a mental note to find some medicine or go buy some. Emir followed Scott back into the room and their visitors slowly turned their heads to look at Quill.

"So we have a tiger now." Quill says. "He's harmless as long as you don't hurt Scott and he knows you're okay."

All four of them cringe when they hear the unmistakable sound of vomiting, and Quill dashes up the stairs two at a time. When he steps into the bedroom, he catches a glimpse of Emir's tail in the bathroom doorway and walks over to peek in, finding Scott with his head in the toilet. The tiger was chuffing softly and nudging Scott with his muzzle, but Quill had to direct him out of the bathroom so he could get to his spouse. Scott had since stopped puking and was laying on the floor looking a little pale.

"Feeling any better?" Quill kneels down and checks his temperature, glad to see it hadn't risen.

"Too hot…" Scott moans.

"How about we get your pajamas off and get you back in bed?" Quill suggests. "Cass can make you some soup and I'll bring it up with some juice."

"Ginger ale and crackers." Scott mumbles as Quill scoops him up and stands back up.

"I can do that. Want your clothes off?"

"Nuh...cold."

Quill carries Scott back to bed, and as he gets him back under the covers, Emir hops back onto the bed and lays next to Scott. Any other day, Quill would have kicked him off the bed and cuddled with Scott, but since Maggie and Paxton were there, he had to play host. Something he was kind of terrible at but they were good people. Scott was in no condition to do it either. Quill would manage with Cassie's help.

"I'll be right back with crackers and soda," Quill kisses his forehead and pulls a wastebasket closer.

"Thanks…" Scott mumbles quietly.

The poor guy looked miserable and Quill wished he could heal his illness, but even if his powers could do that, he was still learning about them. He wasn't about to use his husband like a guinea pig to figure it out. He met Maggie right outside their bedroom and he raises an eyebrow when she smiles up at him.

"What?"

"I'm just glad to see he has someone to take care of him." Maggie admits softly.

"Scotty can take care of himself." Quill says and Maggie shakes her head.

"That's not what I mean. Sometimes he gets so focused on other people that he forgets about himself. Scott's a people pleaser...sometimes to a fault. He has a good heart but some people take advantage of it."

Quill sighs and nods. "Yeah. I've definitely noticed that."

"While I'm glad about that…" she suddenly reaches up and grabs Quill by the ear and pulls his head down.

"Ow!"

"I just found out that my daughter has powers! How did this happen?" Maggie says firmly and tugs the god down the stairs by his ear.

Well now Quill knew where Cassie learned this from. He may be a lot stronger than Maggie, but some part of him didn't dare resist when his ear was being held like he was a naughty child. It was funny when Cassie did it to the boys, but not so much when her mother did it to him. This was his husband's ex too so it was somehow worse.

"Mom! Let him go! It was an accident!" Cassie sighs as she comes out of her room.

Properly dressed to Paxton's relief.

"How did you even find out anyway?" Quill rubs his ear when Maggie finally releases him. "She's managed to keep her identity secret and has hardly used them."

"Stephen told me." The woman says flatly. "I talk to him too you know."

"He couldn't tell you how it happened though?" Quill complains and flinches when Maggie holds her hand out to threaten to pinch his ear again.

"I accidentally broke one of Dad's vials." Cassie explains. "They should have turned me into goop but they just turned me into a baby and when I got back to normal, my genes mutated."

Maggie frowns. "Are you okay? Any problems?"

"Mom and Bruce both checked and said I'm completely healthy. They're not worried."

"And what about fighting?"

"I avoid it unless absolutely necessary. I stay home with the girls." Cassie says.

"We're trying to keep her safe just like always." Quill finally says.

"We trust you and Scott," Paxton says. "We were just surprised to find out. Why didn't you tell us yourselves?"

"We meant to. Really." Quill says and Cassie rolls her eyes.

"I could've told you too...and honestly, Dad has been such an airhead lately that he forgot to tell us you were visiting."

Maggie and Paxton look at them and they both nod before changing the subject. Quill was glad they weren't legitimately upset about Cassie's newfound powers, just that they had to hear about it from someone besides them. They were even happier when their daughter didn't seem inclined to join their avenging unless she needed to. Cassie would use her powers to protect the Stark girls.

Quill also, fortunately, remembered Scott's request and went to the kitchen to get some crackers and ginger ale and took them up to his spouse while Cassie and even Maggie set about to make him some homemade soup. Scott was asleep when Quill got back to the bedroom, so he set the crackers and soda on the nightstand and even got some fever reducer from the bathroom to add to the snacks. He set two by the soda, put the bottle back in the medicine cabinet, and kissed Scott's temple before he left and went back downstairs. He found the girls still in the kitchen, and Paxton was in the living room watching tv. So Quill grabs a couple beers from the fridge and joins him.

"So how long are you two staying?" Quill asks as he holds out a beer.

"Just the weekend." Paxton accepts the beer with a thanks. "I have to be back at work on Monday."

"Oh, well, don't be afraid to do...you know." Quill winks. "The walls are soundproof--ow!" Quill rubs his head after Cassie throws an apple at his head.

"Papa! You and Dad are bad enough!"

Quill cackles and picks up the apple to take a bite out of it. "Thanks for the apple Sunshine."

Cassie groans and turns her attention back to the chicken noodle soup she and her mom are making. Paxton was clearing his throat in discomfort, and it made Quill preen. It was always fun to make the man squirm, and usually Scott would laugh with him about it later but he would have to enjoy it by himself this time. He could still tell Scott when he got better but he had a feeling it wouldn't be the same. Last time Maggie and Paxton visited, Scott and Quill went into detail about certain positions and the other couple looked like they wanted to disappear through the floor.

So it was fun when they visited. The reactions they got from Steve and Bucky on the other hand were pretty good too but they could traumatize them whenever they wanted.

"Uh...Quill? What is your fox doing?" Paxton asks and points over at the kit.

Flynn was...well...running around like his tail was on fire. It was something he did that Cassie fondly called the "zooms" and they could never figure out why he did it. Their floor actually had plenty of space for Flynn to run around, but every once in a while he did this. Then he'd stop and dig at the carpet which got Quill to lean forward and clap his hands loudly to stop him, and then he finally jumped up on the couch and plopped tiredly on Quill's lap.

"Beats the hell out of me." Quill shrugs and takes a sip of his beer. "He's a spaz."

"And the...the tiger doesn't try to eat him?"

"Nope. Emir actually grooms him and takes care of him."

"How did you even get him?" Maggie asks from the kitchen.

"Papa saved him from the circus." Cassie frowns. "Emir has scars from the cruelty they showed him. The tent caught fire and Papa saved him and Emir wanted to stay."

"He doesn't try to attack you either?" Paxton asks.

"No. He mainly sticks with Dad anyway."

Quill looks up toward the bedroom. "You know, part of me likes to think he saw that Scott had scars too so he wanted to keep him safe."

Maggie snorts humorously. "Leave it to Scott to attract a god and a tiger to protect him."

"They both like to sleep on him too." Cassie laughs.

"How does he not suffocate?" Paxton mumbles curiously.

"Very carefully." Quill says as he gets up and takes the bowl from Cassie when the soup is finished.

He walks up to his and Scott's room and smiles when he finds the younger man sitting against his pillows and munching on crackers while watching tv. Emir was, of course, laying happily with his head in Scott's lap and chuffing whenever he pet his head or side.

"Hey babe. Brought some soup that Cassie and Maggie made." Quill says and Scott looks at him in confusion.

"Maggie?" Then realization dawns on him. "Oh god, I forgot they were coming to visit!"

"It's alright. They'd rather you worry about getting better than about them." Quill walks over and sets the soup down. "How was your nap?"

"It was okay. Feel less dead." Scott sniffles and carefully picks up the soup.

"Well I'll come cuddle with you later alright?"

"Okay. I've got Emir in the meantime." Scott pats the tiger again and the beast chuffs happily.

"Need anything else?"

"No. I don't think so. I'm good."

Quill smiles. "Alright…and I'm traumatizing Paxton so I'll tell you all about it later."

"Ooohhh! Tell him about the time on the ferris wheel!" Scott says with a grin and Quill cackles.

[irondadbigbang]

IronDad Big Bang 2019 Masterlist

Masterlist below the cut! Or read on AO3.

Baby Bird by WhimsicalEthnographies @whimsicalethnographies

Peter stares at the envelope, sitting in the middle of his work table, in his little corner, in Mr. Stark’s lab. He’d been checking the mail as soon as he gets home from school and pulled it out before May got home, which won’t be until after nine o’clock. And there it was, finally, the envelope adorned with Massachusetts Institute of Technology, gray and maroon across the white paper.

art by ulzyuu

Castle on a Cloud by CaptainStarSong @captainstarsong

“How the Hell am I supposed to help some kid when half the time my own life is crashing and burning,” Tony asked, incredulous that Fury was thinking that he could possibly take care of some little boy that he didn’t even know. There was a reason why Tony’s life was practically always falling a part, why the closest people around him either died or left him. It wouldn’t be fair to bring some kid into the mix of his crazy life, especially after Afghanistan. 

Fury took a deep breath as looked at Tony with a hint of pity. “Because, Tony, his name is Peter and he’s your son.” 

Or in which SHIELD finds a young and hurt Peter after raiding a HYDRA base, and Tony must learn how to become the father Peter needs.

art by eve-valution

Casualty of the Darkness by kianisabitch @kianisabitch

Peter remembers when they used to cuddle or simply curl up together and listen to each other’s heartbeats. They used to be the perfect couple. Alex would bring him milkshakes when he had a bad day, he always came to Peter’s science fairs and he even let the boy sleep over at his house whenever May had a night shift at the hospital (which was more often than not at this point due to a single paycheck never being enough to support their small family). But slowly, Alex stopped doing those thing. It started with him forgetting to bring Peter milkshakes when his eyes were red rimmed or anxiety attacks shook through his bed like a hurricane, but quickly morphed into daily insults and verbal abuse and then backhands to the face when he was angry or hands grabbing him too hard and finally the violent sex he was now so used to. Sometimes he missed how their relationship used to be. But the good times were a thing of the past and there was no use mourning what he no longer had. 

OR 

Peter is stuck in a highly abusive situation and Tony starts uncovering the truth in order to save the spiraling teenager.

Damaged At Best (Like You’re Already Figured Out) by JolinarJackson @jolinarjackson

”Don’t come any closer,” Spider-Man said, his hand raised threateningly, his fingers resting against a trigger mechanism nestled into his palm. 

”Alright,” Tony answered. For a moment, they looked at each other – Tony stuck to the wall on one side of the alley and Spider-Man stuck to the other – then Tony opened his helmet to show his face. 

”Hey, there”, he said. ”Nice to finally meet you.” 

— 

The Avengers are left shaken in the aftermath of the Sokovia Accords. With half the team under house arrest at the Compound, Tony finds himself seeking refuge in Avengers Tower and starts forming a tentative friendship with the neighborhood vigilante Spider-Man. A friendship which is quickly threatened by Secretary Ross doubting Spider-Man’s intentions and integrity. 

Tony is left wondering who to trust, especially when Spider-Man manages to uncover the one secret Tony never wanted anyone to know about: the child Tony had with a woman named Mary Fitzpatrick sixteen years ago.

art by @shoyzz-art

Dreams Like Ashes by Captainkirkmccoy @captainkirkmccoy

Tony Stark may not know the danger he’s unleashing on himself, his team and his kid by reworking the old plans for the PASIV/Dream sharing project his father sold to the military, but he does have the best intentions. Irondad Big Bang.

How The Mighty Fall by Meep_Morp @gayspiderboy

Since his duel against Toomes on Coney Island, Peter’s life has settled down considerably. May knows about his double life and accepts it (mostly). Tony has welcomed him back, and given him more independence as New York’s Spider-Man. 

One night during patrol he crosses paths with Connor, a teenager who has Extremis in his blood and answers to the wrong kind of people. Though Tony is quick to distrust him, Peter finds himself reluctant to follow his mentor’s lead, and a bond develops between the two boys. Their relationship is further complicated when Connor’s former master, Negative, makes it a personal mission to destroy them both in his quest for power. 

Taking down a superpowered psychopath? Tough, but Peter isn’t going to back down. 

Stopping Tony from blasting his first potential boyfriend into space? He might need a miracle for that.

If You Could See Me Now by geekymoviemom @geekymoviemom

New York City is bracing itself for the worst hurricane to hit in over thirty years, and the kid isn’t back yet. 

Light by funnygirlthatbelle13 @funnygirlthatbelle

Tony Stark has given up. While the other heroes are in Wakanda trying to figure out a plan, he drinks to forget in New York. But when he discovers tickets to Next to Normal; a rock musical about mental illness, grief, the misuse and abuse of drugs, and parents recovering after the death of their child; that he and Peter had bought, he is forced to face his worst fears all over, and learn that, despite everything he’s been through, there may still be light.

Look Over Your Shoulder, I’ll Be There by Colourcodedbinders @colourcodedbinders

It starts as a simple enough gag: see how long he can manage to keep sneaking into Avengers Tower with his friends before Tony Stark notices. But when an unexpected gaggle of men wearing identical ugly navy blue suits and driving around in equally hideous blue cars join the mix, controlled by a guy with horrific fashion sense and the strength of twenty pumas, Peter has to suit up and do what he does best: superhero the hell out of it. 

And if it ends up being the hardest, scariest, most unplanned thing he’s ever had to do? Well then that’s no one’s business but his. (And Tony’s. Definitely also Tony’s.)

Radioactive by Emily_F6 @justme--emily

Things haven’t always been great between Tony Stark and his son. He wasn’t ready to become a father…didn’t even know he had a son until the boy’s mother died. Over time, though, he thought he got the hang of it. But that was before his son went on a field trip to Oscorp and was seemingly left fighting for his life.

Sea Spider by Bean_reads_fanfic @the-reverse-mermaid

“Tell me I’m not the only one seeing this,” Tony prompts, gesturing to their catch. 

It’s a kid. A teenager, by the looks of him, no more than 15 or 16, with curling brown hair plastered over his forehead and eyes. He lays there prone on his side, covered in cuts- some shallow, some deep, all of them most likely caused by the barbs on the fishnet. Tony can just make out blood matted on the back of his head- he probably hit it on the side of the boat and got himself knocked out. Clinging to his torso is a soaked, faded t-shirt and below that… 

…below that, his lower body is a tail. A full-on fish tail. 

(Mer!Peter AU)

Sometimes, a Family Is by CrystalRoza19 & NeonCrayons

Sometimes a family is comprised of you, your recently divorced dad, an unruly group of teenagers and a semi-unemployed former world-class neurosurgeon… 

Peter Stark hoped that moving back to the city would help his father get passed all the struggles and animosity that plagued him after his divorce. What he hadn’t thought to hope for was a way for his father to move on; he’d always had a hard time letting people go, after all. 

Stephen Strange was everything Steve Rogers was not. Maybe he could be everything Tony Stark needed to heal his broken heart. Throw in an unruly group of teenagers and you have yourself a family.

turn back the clock (and I’ll try again in the morning) by madasthesea @madasthesea

Peter gets stuck in a time loop. In it, he lives through some of his worst nightmares, only to wake up that morning and have no one remember. He needs Tony to help him get through. 

And if that isn’t bad enough, his identity is revealed over and over, every day.

art by @the-reverse-mermaid & starlight-sparks

VERENDUS by Lorein_nur 

New York 1935, Trish Parker was on her way to deliver a letter when all hell broke loose on the busy streets. Due to fates twisted sense of humor she found herself caught in the middle of a mafia disspute, if a stray bullet doesn’t kill her May sure as hell would.

art by @hereandnowwearealive

We’ve Made It This Far, Kid by EmAndFandems @jlmarch

Tony’s just trying to protect the kid from SHIELD. Why does everything have to be so hard? 

Meanwhile, Peter’s biggest problem is buying movie tickets, until he gets a harsh awakening.

[samyazaz]

Oooh for the fanfic ask, what about F: (Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it) and L: (How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?)

F: Ooh, decisions, decisions! Okay, I am going to break a little from the meme’s intentions, I think, and go with dialogue from my current WIP! (For context, it’s a Quil/Phi/Terry arranged marriage in space, and this is happening immediately after Quil and Phi’s wedding, which was the first time they’d met each other.)

—

“You can take it off, if you like. If it bothers you,” Quil says, and gestures to the bell resting against Phi’s cheek.

Phi just keeps watching her, thoughtful and considering, and doesn’t move to untie it. “Does it mean something, if I do?”

Quil ducks her head, laughing softly. “Back home, people would think I had ravished you.” She glances up, finds Phi looking startled and maybe a little taken aback, which is better than looking troubled, at least. “But no, it doesn’t mean anything. Or, not anything bad.”

The look in Phi’s eyes pins her in place. “What does it mean?”

“That we’re properly wed, that’s all.”

The intensity of Phi’s gaze redoubles on her. “Are we not?”

Quil blows out a breath and shakes her head hard. “We are, of course we are. I only meant—” She lifts a hand and taps at her own bell, sends it and the chain swinging, ringing cheerily. “It’s meant to signal we’re newly married. We wear them until the thread breaks, and the bell falls off, and then it’s supposed to mean that we’ve settled into the marriage, and the newness has worn off. It’s why they’d think I’d ravished you, back home. It’s the usual reason for a bell to fall, so soon after the wedding. But it doesn’t mean ill, either way. Not if it falls the night of the wedding, or a month after it, or six. You can take it off,” she says again, and puts strength behind the words. “No one here would even know what it means enough to tease us over it. And I don’t wish it to be something that brings you pain.”

Again, Phi looks like she means to say something but thinks better of it at the last moment and Quil wishes, with a surge of frustration, that she would just speak her mind, whatever it is. “It doesn’t hurt,” Phi says in the end. “The weight’s negligible enough. It was a wise choice, and a kind thought. Thank you.”

Quil makes a sharp, aborted noise, but bites it back almost at once. She wants to grab Phi and shake her, wants to demand that she stop trying so hard to be nice and just be honest. It’s a better foundation to build their marriage upon.

—

So mostly the reason I’m proud of this is because this is coming at the tail end of a rather lengthy scene in which Quil and Phi are both trying very very hard to be conscientious toward each other as they just start to skirt around the edges of getting to know each other and I’m trying to do something very precarious and delicate with it, because this scene is the basis for them getting some very wrong ideas about each other that’s going to serve as much of the main romantic conflict moving forward. And I am one of those people who will haaaates it when a romantic conflict is dragged out that could just be solved by the two characters just fucking talking to each other, so I’m trying to do it in a way that would not drive me crazy as a reader, and in a way that firmly establishes why they aren’t talking to each other about these things — because they’re both keenly aware of the sacrifices the other has made for this marriage to happen, and the stakes of it, and they’re strangers, so they’re both trying very very hard to not be an imposition to the other, and in doing so they’re leaving a lot of blank spaces for the other person to fill, and they’re both filling them very incorrectly, but they’re doing it for very well-intentioned, altruistic reasons. As Quil points out in the last paragraph (because she is terrible at heeding her own advice) — they’re both focusing too much on being nice, and not enough on being honest with each other, and it’s going to cause them some serious problems. And so I’m proud of this because I think I’ve done pretty well at walking that tight-rope, and doing it in a way that is convincing and hopefully not maddening! And also I love this bit of worldbuilding about the bells, and especially Quil’s line about “back home, they would think I had ravished you”, it makes me grin every time I reread it.

L: .......aaaand this is the part where I hide my face in shame, because the honest answer is 0-1. Usually by the time I’m done with a thing I’m so eager to get to share it that I can’t bear to wait too much longer. And also, depending on how long it is and how the writing went, sometimes by the time I get to the end of a thing I cannot bear to spend another minute on it. So unless I know there are structural things I want to address (which honestly isn’t often), I usually do a proofreading pass at most and that’s it. And Nell does a pretty good job at catching typos for me as she reads, so sometimes I will just trust in her and post the thing. I think the most I’ve done was for Cinders, where I printed the whole thing out and stuck it in a 3” binder and proofread it and did sentence-level tweaks and looked for story inconsistencies and that sort of thing, and then I think once I’d finished with those edits I did one final pass for typos?

Thank you for the ask! ^_^

[lordofthenerds97]

You’ve Got To Be Kidding

Masterlist Warnings: Mild cursing, obviously cliche tropes because look who’s writing it, love triangles galore, all of it  Chapter 2

“Who’s Y/N?”

Jim scrubbed a hand down his face as he looked at the girl in front of him. “She’s my niece. She’s like you, El.”

The girl frowned. “Like me? What do you mean?”

He paused for a moment, not quite sure how to answer the question. “She knows the Upside Down. And she has a number too.”

Her eyebrows furrowed and her dark curly hair fell in her face. “Really?” That surprised her. She’d had brief flashes of memories, seeing one or two others in a room with her. But she hadn’t ever thought much about it.

Jim nodded. “She’ll be here in a few days. And she’s gonna have someone else with her that can help us.”

El nodded, chewing on her bottom lip. She might be young, but she knew trouble when she saw it. She’d been through her fair share. And this situation smelled exactly like trouble. She wondered how Y/N would react to being back in Hawkins, especially if she came from the lab. El was still having her own difficulties in processing things. She wondered what type of power Y/N had, if she even had a power at all. But from the way Hop was talking, there was something special about the other girl. Something that El didn’t know if she wanted to trifle with.

~*~*~*~*~

You scowled at the car in front of you, crossing your arms and not looking at the man beside you. He snorted at your displeasure, more amused than anything.

“Just get in the car, Y/N.” he said.

“Just get in the car, Y/N,” you mocked, turning your sharp glare on Bucky. He just raised an eyebrow as you continued your rant. “I have absolutely no intention of getting in that deathtrap with you.”

Bucky let out an exasperated sigh, a few strands of his hair falling into his face. He was getting tired of your attitude. In reality, it was anything but a deathtrap. It was one of Tony’s nicer SUVs, one that had plenty of room for the both of you plus the few bags you were bringing.

You’d always had a weird thing about riding in cars. Well, anything that ran on a motor, really. You’d gotten so accustomed to simply blinking to where you wanted to be that being in a vehicle actually scared you. And being scared wasn’t something you liked to experience.

“Look, if it’ll make you feel better, I won’t go very fast.” He knew what you were trying to do; trying to delay this little excursion for as long as humanly possible. He didn’t really blame you. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to it either. But you didn’t see him procrastinating.

You narrowed your eyes and gave him a scrutinizing gaze. You knew that was a lie, but you appreciated the effort he was trying to put into this. The effort he was putting into trying to be civil. The response you gave came out as more of a mumble than anything else, but he took it as confirmation. He grabbed the duffel from your hands and threw it in the back with his before putting his backpack on the floorboard behind the driver’s seat and climbing into the Ford. “Coming?”

You huffed in response but followed his example. The messenger bag you carried with you held your laptop and a few hard copy files that you planned on studying during the trip to Hawkins. You were obviously uncomfortable with the situation, and Bucky could see that. But his attitude wasn’t really helping things either.  

“Look, I’m not any more excited about this trip than you are, Y/L/N, but let’s try to get through this without ripping each other’s head off, alright?”

“Fine. Whatever.” you snapped.

Bucky growled at your attitude. “And that’s not helping.”

You just glared, not bothering to answer him. It wasn’t worth the fight it would bring.

“Goody for me,” he grumbled under his breath, gripping the wheel with his left hand and shifting it into gear with his right. You glanced at him as you settled yourself into the seat and got comfortable. His jaw was clenched, making the muscle pop slightly, and his eyes were focused in front of him.

Catching yourself looking at him for longer than you thought appropriate, you quickly averted your eyes to the floorboard. As he began to drive, you felt your heart began to race. Your breathing became a bit shallower and your grip on the door became tight knuckled.

“It’s okay, Y/N.” he said quietly. “Just breathe.”

You looked at him, wondering if you’d heard him correctly. Did he just try to provide you with a small bit of comfort?

He didn’t take his eyes off the road, though he could see you out of his peripheral vision. He didn’t need you having a panic attack before even getting off the compound property. “Deep breath in. Let it out slowly.”

Shaking the thought off, you followed his advice and felt yourself gradually relax into the rhythm of the car’s movements. It took a solid twenty minutes of tense silence and a few brief moments of terror. But needless to say, you were calmer now than you were when you first got into the vehicle.

Realizing that you spent that much time in an awkward silence, you reached for the radio. When you popped the button to turn it on, you and Bucky both jumped at the death metal that came blaring through the speakers. Your already sensitive ears rang with the sound of the loud guitar and Bucky visibly winced.

“Sorry,” you muttered, quickly turning it down and changing the channel.

He didn’t say anything, just clenched his jaw more. The thought struck you that if he kept doing that his face would stick in that position. The thought made you crack a smile that you had to hide behind your hand and a laugh that you had to cover with a cough. You knew this was going to be one of the longest trips you’d ever taken, but maybe you would be willing to shoot at being civil with the super soldier for once.

“Something funny?” Bucky asked, glancing sideways at you.

“Keep scowling like that and your face’ll stick.” you said with half a smile. You made sure to put a light edge to your tone so that he would know you were only joking. It seemed to work, as all he did in response was roll his eyes.

Having the radio turned to a rock station and the volume down low seemed to help ease a bit of the tension that still hung in the air. You were still on edge and you figured Bucky was as well. He didn’t say anything, but you could tell from his movements and his posture that he wasn’t relaxed. Sighing quietly to yourself, you closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the headrest.

There was a lot of work you had to do before you got to Hawkins. Hop had sent you as much as he could without getting on the government’s radar, not that it really mattered. He still wasn’t hip on the idea of sharing that much sensitive information over the internet despite how many times you reassured him that it wasn’t traceable or hackable.

Feeling the heavy weight of the necklace on your sternum, you glanced down. The onyx colored gem was glowing slightly, the weight of it warming your skin. And that was yet another issue that you had to work out. Whatever was interfering with your connection to the Dimension was getting worse. And it was having a physical effect on you.

You were normally stubborn and feisty to begin with, but your attitude over the last few weeks had worsened. You snapped easily at everyone and your moods were constantly shifting. You’d even thrown Sam across the compound for making an ill timed joke.

Everyone tried to be understanding of what was happening, but you knew it was wearing on them. And you weren’t sure how much longer they were going to put up with you. Tony seemed to be the most resilient, as he had known you the longest. But even so, his patience was being tested.

“Can I ask you something?” you said, turning your attention to the super soldier on your left.

Bucky raised an eyebrow as he glanced at you. “You just did.” You rolled your eyes and bit back a snarky response. Seeing the effort you put into not being sarcastic, he nodded. “Shoot.”

“Do you ever feel…alone? Like you don’t belong with everyone?”

Bucky was taken aback by the question, looking away from the road to examine your expression. Judging that you had no apparent ulterior motive, he answered carefully. “Sometimes,” he said. “I know I’ve done a lot of really bad things in the past. I don’t think Tony has forgiven me for what happened…and I don’t blame him. I think that puts a damper on my presence.”

You pursed your lips, nodding slowly. Tony was always like a big brother to you. You knew him inside and out. And you knew he still held some resentment for the super soldier beside you. But you also knew that he wouldn’t let those feelings get in the way of cooperating to save the world.

Deciding to approach the topic cautiously, Bucky phrased his next question carefully. “What about you?”

You nodded. “Yeah. My powers aren’t exactly user friendly. And it makes me volatile and dangerous.”

Bucky glanced at you briefly. Your knees were pulled up to your chest and you rested your chin on them. Emotion rolled off you in waves, but there were so many that he couldn’t make heads or tails of what you were feeling. But tears welled in your eyes as you continued staring out the windshield.

“I don’t like it…” you said after a moment of silence. “I don’t like what these powers to do me…what they make me do to everyone else. I’m not even me when I use them. I don’t even know who I am anymore…”

He let out a sigh and gripped the steering wheel. He may not know exactly what you were feeling or what you were going through, but he had some semblance of an idea. “Look…putting yourself back together after having your identity stripped away isn’t easy.”

You snorted. “Yeah. Like you would know.”

Bucky held back a growl. He was trying to reach you, not push you away. “Actually, I do.” he said.

That gave you pause. You knew a little bit about Bucky’s past, but no one, including him, had been eager to talk about it. So you learned what you could from the museums. Half of which you knew to be nothing more than made up stories to get better press. You knew there was something deeper, some sort of dark secret that no one wanted to tell you. But before you could say anything, he continued talking.

“I was an assassin for an organization called Hydra. You know enough about them and have taken down enough of their bases to know what kind of terrorists they are. I wasn’t the only human experiment they had, but I was the most effective. I was sent to kill Steve.”

Your eyes widened. You didn’t know that.

“To make an extremely long story short, he managed to break me out of the trance Hydra had me in. They would periodically wipe my mind of all memories except core instincts. I was the perfect fighting machine. I don’t know how he did it, but he pulled me out of it. He unlocked some sort buried memory.”

He paused to take a breath and you waited patiently for him to continue. You could tell how difficult it was for him to open up about it. And you doubted he talked about it with many people. Hell, Tony probably didn’t even know the whole story. But the fact he was opening up to you of all people spoke wonders.

“Since then it’s been nothing but a mess of me trying to put my memories back together to find out who I am. I’ve had to remake myself. And that wasn’t easy.” He glanced over at you at the tail end of his sentence, trying to gauge how much of what he was saying was actually reaching you.

You were about to say something when you happened to glance up. “Bucky!” you screamed, grabbing his flesh arm with a bone snapping force and throwing yourself back into the seat.

Surprised by the sudden outburst and with his reflexes taking over, Bucky immediately slammed on the brakes, making you scream once again as you were thrown forwards, the seatbelt the only thing keeping you from flying towards the windshield.

Your breath came in ragged gasps as the vehicle went skidding across the road, Bucky barely able to control it. Your grip on his arm increased and you thought he hissed in pain as the SUV came to a sudden and rapid halt.

Bucky glanced over at you before staring straight ahead, noticing for the first time the large black hole in front of them.

He made sure that you were still breathing before he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. “What the hell?” he muttered to himself.

“Bucky, Bucky no!” you exclaimed, trying to free yourself of the constricting seatbelt that had you strapped in place. It wouldn’t come undone, even with you yanking on it.

Bucky on the other hand was standing beside the front of the car, looking at the portal with interest. That’s what it was. A portal to the Dimension. But he didn’t realize that. And if you didn’t pull him away from it in time, it would swallow him.

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[shoeshoecin]

I recently requested a prayer from Skippy when my mothers was seriously ill. Skippy and Brewster both contributed to the prayer and they really got through me through difficult times. We buried my mother aka Nana today and we all said goodbye. My daughter read her this letter at the funeral today and I wanted to share it with you. I never post on tumblr I enjoy all #megxit posts and appreciate your insight and research regarding MM.

Dear Nana,

​The last time that we talked you told me that you don’t like funerals. When I asked, “why?”, you said, “at funerals people just say a bunch of nice stuff about the person that everyone knows wasn’t really true.” To that I ensured you that people only have nice things to say about you because you are simply the best. Although, you didn’t seem convinced, but you can put your fears to rest because I promise I am only going to say things that are 100% honest.

​On the topic of honesty, you are the most honest person I have ever met. A bit brutally honest actually. For example, I remember coming back from the beach one day and you asked me if I gained the “freshman 15” after going away to college. A bit perplexed by your sudden question, I replied, “umm..I don’t really know, I haven’t weighed myself…why? Do you think I’ve gained weight?” You said, “well yeah. You look like you’ve gained some weight. Maybe not a full 15...maybe more like 5 or 10. You still look good though.” Even though that probably wasn’t what I was looking to hear while I stood in the kitchen in my bikini, I can appreciate the honesty. Another example of your honestly was the time that I painted you a watercolor painting of a cat (because I know how much you love cats). I was so excited to give it to you after working on it all night, and when I presented it to you, you look one look and said, “what happened to the tail? The tail is too short it looks like something happened to it.” I said, “oh yeah, I guess the tail is a little short, but do you like it?” You replied to my hopeful question with, “well, it’d be nicer if the tail was longer, but I’ll still hang it up.” Yup, you are definitely not scared to speak your mind. If I ever need an ego check, you know where I’ll be. With that being said, despite the small blows to my self esteem, I’ve always admired your honesty as it was quite refreshing and always consistent.

​Speaking of consistency, you are one of the very few people that I can always count on to be consistent. For example, everyone always looks forward to going to Nana’s for dinner because everything you bake or cook is always amazing. From your angel hair pasta, to your lima beans, to your brownies, zucchini bread, pies and magical (almost too perfect) assortment of Christmas cookies every year, everything you make is always consistently delicious. Even from the youngest age, I always knew that I could look forward to dinner and dessert at Nana’s. You are also extremely consistent when it comes to buying anything marketed as “NEW!” I know that if I walk into your kitchen there will always be a package of the newest limited edition of Oreos sitting there…unopened. Even your response to the question, “Nana why did you buy these?” was consistently, “it’s new!” You’ve never failed to tell me how much you dislike the fact that my jeans are ripped and I actually bought them like that. I can always expect to see clean clothes perfectly hanging on the clothes line in the yard. You consistently wear Keds and cashmere sweaters while eating a sticky bun from the bakery in the morning. You are also pretty consistent with feeding the dog at family parties even when my mom and Johnny Z asked everyone not to. Watching you feed Marsden huge chunks of cheese and crackers under the table right after being asked not to always made me laugh. You always keep a pitcher of iced tea in the fridge, fresh peaches on the counter, and mint chocolate chip ice cream in your freezer (never the white mint though because according to you the white mint does not taste the same as the green mint ice cream, and you will not eat the white mint). I’m really glad that mint chocolate chip is your favorite flavor of ice cream, because it’s my favorite too.

Sometimes I wonder where I got my sweet tooth, but if you’ve ever stayed up past midnight with Nana, you would know that the timeframe of 12 am to 3 am is filled with candy, sour cream and onion chips, popsicles, Cheetos, and ice cream sundaes. People always think that you don’t eat very much, but you and I both know that they just don’t stay up late enough to witness the late night snacking that happens over a game of scrabble, while baggage or family feud is playing on the TV. These late nights have been some of my favorite memories over the years, and you always gave your best advice during these times. For example, I vividly remember one summer night at age 16. I was on my second bowl of what was now melted mint ice cream and losing pretty bad at a game of scrabble. To make matters worse, all the letters I was left with were all vowels and my mind drifted to the break up I had earlier that day. Shockingly, I began to cry for probably the 7th time that day, and you said, “Oh god what are you crying for? You should be happy. Now you can play the field. Playing the field is much more fun than having just one boyfriend.” Like I said, you always give the best advice.

As I’m thinking about all the advice you’ve given me, I am reminded of all the other things that you’ve shown and taught me. For example, thanks to you, I know what its like to walk into a room with a celebrity. I remember it like it was yesterday, one rainy night my mom and I drove down to play a game of bingo with you. When we walked in the door, I was immediately stopped and questioned by the tight security who asked to see my ID because I apparently looked “12” – which would be a no-go considering that apparently the bingo staff takes the age restrictions of bingo very seriously. Just as I was about to show the security my proof of ID to confirm that I was in fact above the age of 18, you came to our rescue. A simple, “they’re with me,” and all of a sudden we were treated like royalty and all further questions turned into staff members offering us refreshments. I learned something else that night too. It was brought to my attention that my mom and I are really bad at bingo, like really bad. It’s a good thing that you were there to inform us that our cards were upside down and we had been playing the game completely wrong for the first half hour. By the end of the four-hour bingo game, you were playing all of our cards for us alongside the 20 that you had laid out in front of you, while my mom and I resorted to eating gummy bears and counting the number of sneezes for every minute that went by. Watching you play bingo was honestly an honor because that takes a level of skill I most definitely did not inherit. When I think about you, I think about good times like these, and how honored I am to be your granddaughter.

Although above all, when I think about you, I think about how strong you are. A particular moment of strength was the time that you broke your hip on the fourth of July. Most people would probably be crying or at least deeply concerned with the physical pain they were experiencing, but you were much more concerned with the deviled eggs that were in your hands when you fell along with who was going to make the pie if you went to the hospital. Unfortunately for us, the blueberry pie was left in the hands of Uncle Jeff…and I’m just gonna go ahead and say, your concerns were all too valid. To be honest I’ve always thought about my mom and wondered how she became such a strong, independent, and amazing woman, but now I can clearly see that its because she always had you to look up to. And I want to thank you for being someone that I could also always look up to. Thank you for teaching me all about the virtue of honesty. Thank you for being someone I could always consistently depend on to be there. Thank you for all of the late night chats and all of your priceless advice. Thank you for passing on your love of baking and sharing a sweet tooth with me. Thank you for gracing me with the honor of learning how to play bingo from a real pro. Thank you for showing me what a strong, kind, and beautiful woman looks like. Thank you for everything.

I started this letter by referencing the last time we we had the chance to talk. You explained why you don’t like funerals because of the apparent lack of honesty. Well, I hope this letter delivered the kind of authenticity that you were hoping for because I just have one last thing that I would like to revisit. In that same conversation, after we had discussed the flaws within funerals, I told you that I love you. You replied by saying, “aw I love you too, and I hope that I can love you from heaven. I think I can.” Your response to my statement was one that I will never forget. So, I just want to say that I will always love you, no matter where you are. Thank you for being you.

Love,

Ella

[srprincess]

Hey look, it’s me! Still on my bullshit!

Chapter 18 of the Spookydoo Au

Fictober (Hahaha remember October? We used to leave our houses back then) Prompt 20 - “you could talk about it, you know”

Shitty breathlessly made his way back to the group and handed the, now handily dog attached, leash over to Lardo. “Haven’t fuckin’ run like that in years,” he managed to huff out as he leaned against the building, hunched over.

She smirked, “Maybe next time you'll go running with me when I ask.”

“Not likely,” Shitty told her with a wheezing laugh. He tilted his head toward the dog. “Next time he bolts I’ll let you can chase after him though.”

“You’re too kind.”

“I assume this is Sammy?” Will squatted down to dog level and held out his hand for inspection before giving the wild haired dog some pats, and getting an enthusiastic face lick in return. Laughing he told the dog, “nice to meet you, little fella.” He wasn’t sure, but he thought he might have heard Nursey mutter about it being a nicer welcome than the one he had gotten.

“That's what we're calling him right now,” Lardo told Will, while she gave the dog a couple of scritches behind the neck. “Had to call him something, and he didn’t have any tags, so-”

“-Figured, Samwell crew trip- Sammy,” Shitty explained, breath thankfully returned.

“I like it,” Nursey said, sneaking his hands in for a couple of pets of his own and asking the happy dog, “Is Sammy a good boy? Oh yes, he is.”

“You and your nicknames.” Will shook his head fondly. “So you just got him? Unconventional souvenir, I’d say.”

“Well, he’s not actually, technically, ours,” Shitty admitted.

Will looked from the dog, with his shiny new collar and leash, back to Shitty and Lardo. He pulled himself back upright, suddenly suspicious. “You didn't steal him, did you? Please tell me you didn’t just make me an accomplice to dognapping.”

“No! Not stolen, found,” Lardo rushed to assure him.

“Rescued even,” Shitty insisted.

“When did you two have time to rescue a dog? We just saw you last night.”

“You know how we were at the cemetery, right? Well, we weren’t getting anything there, even looking in the right spot, so we wandered around a little more and there he was. Hanging around to edges of the trees, a little spooked but I think he was hungry enough not to run. We stayed longer to lure him out-“

“-earn his trust!”

“Yeah, Shitty, earn his trust,” Lardo agreed. “And then this morning we took him into-“

“-Petcetera.” Will finished, as things clicked into place. “I did hear something about you two being over there earlier.”

Of course. That explained the phone call that morning. He had been fishing, Will frowned at the pun even though it was hidden silent in his own head, to see if he could take off and leave the dog handling situation to someone else. At least he had called before taking off for his own fun, but still. He couldn't have just been upfront about it? Said why exactly he was calling? Maybe ask if he'd mind handling this for him? Ugh.  

It was probably for the best he didn't hang around that guy much anymore because the next time he saw him he was going to have to murder him.

Okay, maybe not murder. Murder was messy. Also incredibly illegal.

Sink his boat? Hmmm. No. Less messy, slightly, but still illegal.

Let it drop to his mother about how he heard her son was sneaking around with that girl from the island again? Oh. Yes. That would do. Almost guarantee a talking to at their next family dinner. Sweet revenge for duty shirking.

Will knew that his own mother would have said eavesdropping wasn't something to be proud of, but damned if it didn't come in handy on occasion.

Oblivious to the vengeful thoughts racing through Will’s mind, Lardo went on, “Yeah, Petcetera, you know it? The waitress when we stopped for breakfast said it was the best place to try and find his owner.”

“The only place really.” Will told her. “That's our vet, animal control, adoption, and pet supply store all in one. Used to be run by Old Owen, but he passed it on to the younger a few years back.”

“Makes it easy I guess, keeping everything together. Anyway, no chip but he was going to check around. See if anyone is missing him or find him a family. Owen’s supposed to get back to us in a couple hours so we can drop him off either way.”

Will blew out a breath as he pulled himself back to standing. “About that...I can almost guarantee he’d already run through all his guesses about who this little guy belonged to before you even left the shop. He is animal central after all.”

“Maybe he was just waiting to find a place for him then?”

“Or he already found one.”

“Then why-” She looked at him with confusion, and checked her phone screen. “He hasn't called yet. You think we should go back over there?”

“No point, he was headed out fishing.” Will sighed, “probably can’t even see him from shore by now.”

“But if he found a place-” he could see when it clicked in her head, even before Lardo said, “Oh. You’re saying us. He found us.”

“Yep.”

“So he just fucked off?!” Shitty asked. “Who does that?”

“Owen.” Will deadpanned.

 “Look, in general, he means well. He cares about the animals. Tries his best, usually. If he didn’t, then the business wouldn't have been passed to him. It's just, sometimes,” Will shrugged, “I don't like to be mean or speak ill, but-”

“Really,” Nursey scoffed, “you don’t like to ’speak ill’? Huh, could have fooled me.”

“Ha-ha funny.” At least Will hoped he was joking. Regardless he had to admit facts. “Fine, Owen’s kind of a flake. He’s been an expert at accomplishing the most while doing the least ever since we were in school. He is good people though. He wouldn't have left the dog if he wasn't sure that he would be taken care of. Assuming that's the reason for the call to me.”

“So, just like that, we have a dog now?”

Shitty looked at her, seeming excited at the possibility of them keeping the dog. Lardo didn't seem entirely against it, as evidenced by the frequent pats and scratches, but did have a look of someone on the edge of overwhelmed at the idea. Not quite sold. Yet.

“You could talk about it, you know?” Will told them. “You’ve still got, what, another day or two here? Take some time to think about it, talk it over. Either way, it’s up to you. And don’t worry, even if you want to leave Sammy here when you go, I’ll make sure he finds a home and is taken care of.”

 Shitty and Lardo looked at each other.

“It’s not like we planned on getting a dog anytime soon-”

“But we didn't plan not to either-”

“You did spend all that time earning drawing him in last night-”

“And you always say it gets lonely at the house when I'm working so long.”

As if he knew they were talking about him, Sammy sat back and wagged his tail. Like he was trying to look his absolute cutest, turning his head back and forth and panting, as they discussed his fate.

“We do have a decent size yard-”

“Big empty yard, that we're doing fuck all with.”

“Truth. Could be nice-”

“Coming home to this cute little happy face?“ Shitty stooped down to the dog’s level and looked up at her hopefully.

“Yours or the dogs?”

Shitty smiled wide up at her, “Both, of course!”

 “I meant what I said, don't let this pressure you. Either way, I’m going to have some words with Owen. If you need longer to think about it, I can-” Will started to offer again.

He wasn’t particularly looking for a pet, content to throw the odd stick across the beach for any loose dogs that escaped for a run. All the fun, none of the responsibility. He just wanted to make sure they didn't take on something they'd regret, most people had more time to work up to and decide on this kind of commitment. Then he saw Lardo and Shitty look down at Sammy one more time before smiling at each other, and he knew the decision was made.

“You want to come home with us little dude?”

Sammy hopped eagerly between them, and just like that it was settled.

“Congrats,” Will told them, “looks like you two just got a new dog.”

“For better or worse,” Lardo laughed out.

 She made sure Shitty had hold of the leash and then turned to Nursey. “Need to borrow you real quick.”

“Oh. Just let me-”

“Now.” She dragged a wide eyed Nursey away by the arm. She started before they were quite out of earshot, “You two? That looked very, well, I hope I didn't interrupt anything.”

Nursey ducked his head down before answering, which had the unfortunate side effect of muffling his voice, and then they were too far for eavesdropping.  

Will sighed, hoping he wasn't in for an interrogation of his own, but Shitty seemed happy to go on about the dog. How the pup had been shivering and scared when they found it, but a bag of his favorite jerky - a worthy sacrifice - was enough to bring him in.

“Think the tent might be lost cause though, some things you just can't clean out. Bitty’s gonna freak. Thing’s green couch bad, bro.”

Will nodded, like he had any idea what Shitty meant by that.

 A few minutes had passed and then Nursey walked back with Lardo, Will tried to catch his eye. He wished for the psychic ability to find out what she had asked him. And know what the reply had been. But he wasn't a mind reader and all Nursey did was smile. Well, at least he still looked happy, not any worse for the wear, so that was likely good. Almost reassuring, he told himself.

 “You tell him?” Shitty asked Lardo. She looked back, lost, and he added, “About Chow?”

“Nah,” Nursey answered for her. “Holster called earlier though. Said Chowder, ummm, got called into work early. Jack and Bits running them to the airport?”

“Yeah, Chowder and Farmer said to give their goodbyes and they'd see everyone at the-” Shitty faltered, “uh, conference? In October. You're still planning on going, right?”

“Course I’m going. Cait’ll be there too?”

“Should be, said she'd try her best at least.”

“Nice,” Nursey said. “So, no car?”

“Not for a couple hours, after lunch at earliest.” Lardo told him.

Will pushed back his questions about what sort of conference would have all their varying jobs called together, and instead offered up his truck to run them wherever.

“Your place again?” she asked. “Ransom said he had somethings to show you. Could get him and Holster over too.”

“Yeah? Sure, why not.” Will told her as she was already dialing.

“Tell them to grab Sammy’s food from the room,” Shitty said, leaning over her. “And us food. Sandwiches!”

“From that place by the pier!” Nurse loudly added. “With the peppers and-”

“Could you let me-” Lardo huffed, as she shoved them aside to get some quiet to finish the call.

Will looked at Nursey in disbelief. “Hungry already? You, literally, just rejected muffins.” He gestured at their, now cleared, table.

“Wasn’t muffin hungry. But sandwiches though.”

“Whatever.” Will rolled his eyes. “Think they could grab a club for me too then?”

“Hmmm maybe. I don't know if they should. You literally just rejected a muffin.”

“Oh, fuck you.” Will shoved him lightly. “Shut up and get in the truck.”  

To Lardo, Shitty, and by extension Sammy, he said “You guys-”

“In the back, got it.” Shitty offered Lardo a hand, but she had hung up and was pulling herself up and over the gate already. Sammy quickly followed over with an excited bark and a leap, and they were off.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

I don’t know what I’m doing anymore... this was where Kosmo was meant to meet our twins. I think ima chop the tail end off and make it a new chapter with a rewrite after Lance was examined

Lance was getting antsy and Keith couldn’t blame him. Krolia’s arrival seemed to bring some kind of ill will with her. His mother did absolutely nothing wrong, yet her scent was strong enough for Keith to pick up above the scent of everything else in the room. She wasn’t mad, in fact she was a gushing mess over her first two grandsons, her lateness due to stopping off to buy some over priced flowers after getting clearance on Earth. It was more the fact that it was the scent of a Galra, and with Lance’s medication wearing off, his past traumas were poking their unwanted heads up. Every move his mother made set them both on edge. Having been “Galra” far longer than him, and having had a life time to adjust to unwanted scents, she had a certain self control Keith was still learning. He wasn’t jealous over her, not as he’d been with Shiro, no it wasn’t that either. Sitting quietly beside his husband, Lance was also on edge due to waking to their boys crying, without having been informed of Krolia’s arrival. Unable to feed their sons due to the drugs in his system, their boys first feeding came from a bottle. Lance was too weak to hold either of their boys, nor did the nurse allow him to “help”. All his husband could do was sit there next to him as Keith fed Laith. Miriam holding Hunter as he did, Hunter had started crying before his big brother, yet hadn’t been keen on the bottle. Keith felt like a loser of a father when his boy wouldn’t drink, the nurse suggesting they try Laith first so he could get used to his new parental duties. And get used to, he could. His son had a healthy appetite, taking the teat between his soft lips and not holding back. Unlike his brother Laith’s skin was much lighter, almost as milky as Keith’s. His hair was also darker, but his eyes were the same purple as Keith and Hunter’s, “Galaxy Eyes” as Lance called them. More than once his husband had flirted with him, telling him it was so easy to get lost in his eyes. More than once Keith had felt uncomfortable, picked on for his less than human eyes in more homes than one. Meeting his mother, and learning the truth of his heritage should have eased the pain from the years of teasing, yet it was Lance’s sincere words that had finally eased the pain. Lance not even knowing the trauma he was fixing with each soft word, each touch and each kiss. No his sons would carry out their lives with the same purple eyes as him, part of him fearing they’d face segregation as he for being something other than human. The love he felt for his sons was something precious and amazing. He’d loved them before they were born, and to be holding his boy as he took his first drink was again something on a whole other level. He wondered if all parents found the act as incredible as he did, or if he was just a great big softy like Lance liked to remind him he was. Burping Laith, Keith found he didn’t mind the small amount of spit-up on his shoulder, calmly ignoring it until his son had settled and taken into Krolia’s hold. Jorge appeared somewhat awkward holding Korra, but like the boys, her cuteness would melt even the most stubborn of hearts. She was still so tiny, yet so large in comparison to the twins. She was also much more vocal in her wants, Lance leaking through his hospital gown when she’d cried to be fed. With his arms free, he was passed Hunter. Having birthed his son, Keith was fascinated by his every move, not to say that he wasn’t as fascinated by Laith. Both boys would forever have him wrapped around their little fingers, yet it was... different he supposed. He’d watched Hunter being born, seen him and held him in his first moments, delivering him though not sure he could, and there he was now, so perfect, despite being hangry and hating on his bottle. Keith knew how desperately Lance wanted to be the one to feed their boys, he felt Hunter might have been more receptive if it was his daddy doing the feeding rather than the unappealing bottle with its small plastic teat. Maybe it was the first signs that his boy was going to be a fussy eater? Whatever it was, it took Hunter a good ten minutes to begrudgingly accept the bottle, Keith melting with relief when he finally did. His cheeks puffing out as he drank deeply like his big brother had done, eyes tightly scrunched closed as one small formed a fist. Lance was right. He was a softy. His husband had worn away all his sharp edges, his love acting like sand paper to leave him smooth and soft. Not that he’d admit it. Keith had the feeling that caring for Lanc physically was what had brought on the biggest changes in him. Once you’d had your husband throw up on you as often Lance had, especially during withdrawal, it wasn’t as gross as it’d been the first time. Besides, everyone knew Lance could be a great big baby when he wanted to. He may have fooled his team for month, but Keith knew how affection starved Lance had become in the aftermath of everything. He knew because he each night they’d spent apart he’d felt that same hunger to be back in Lance’s arms. Lance probably now hungered to hold his boys, as Keith hungered to hold him. The situation wasn’t fair. Lance had never failed well in hospital, Keith feeling remorse over the nights he’d been forced to spend alone in white sterile rooms without the company or comfort of his husband. When Lance hadn’t wanted him to visit on Erathus, he should have. When Lance was stuck watching over them from their disastrous training mission, he should have been awake and there to by his side. He should have been awake after the explosion, and there when Lance went through surgery. He already knew they wouldn’t let him stay by Lance’s side once he started to improve. He’d be forced to take a room at the Garrison, leaving Lance alone all over again. He’d never loved hospitals, but he’d never hated them the way Lance’s loneliness made him hate them. “You’re good at that” Humming, Keith raised his gaze from Hunter, Krolia was pacing with a bounce in her step as she patted Laith’s butt. Had she done the same with him? “Hmmm?” “With the twins. You‘re good with them” “He is... Much better than I am” Under her breath Miriam sighed softly, Jorge hadn’t seemed to hear, but Krolia had. A firm frown forming on her face at Lance’s sad mumble “Why would you say that? Have you done something wrong?” Krolia could have phrased things better. A normal person would have asked “What was wrong?”, not allowed Lance to feel like there may be some kind of agreement with his less than logical mumblings “Mum...” “He’s just given birth earlier today. He’s not only birthed twins, he’s also been through surgery. He hadn’t done anything wrong that I can see” Ah. Keith felt bad for doubting his mother, yet he also knew that if he didn’t talk to her things may escalate, especially with her scent setting Lance on edge “Can we talk outside for tick? Mami, can you take Hunter for me. We’ll only be a few moments” Lance whined softly as Keith moved Hunter away from him, Miriam quick to take his feed son, then settle him back down where Lance could watch him feed. Only now did it strike Keith that maybe Lance wanted some alone time with his parents “Jorge, will you take Laith. I’ll take Korra, so you can have some family time” “I don’t mind holding her, she reminds me of Veronica as baby. Even then she had quite the temper” Sometimes people say things you don’t expect, Keith didn’t expect such a paternal side from Jorge when it came to holding onto Korra “If you’re sure?” “Talk to your mother” Krolia followed him out to hall, Keith hit by an unexpected feeling of ill ease with Laith being outside of Lance’s room. Holding his hands out, he swallowed loudly, not wanting to pick a fight or make his mother think she’d done something wrong. Taking Laith, he settled him up against his shoulder “You wanted to talk?” His mother sounded defensive, Keith mentally sighing to himself “You haven’t done anything wrong” Raising her eyebrow, Krolia crossed her arms “Then why have you been so...?” Of course she’d noticed. He needed to change tactics with this conversation “How do you deal with scents?” That wasn’t what his mother expected, her raised eyebrow turned into a scrunched ridge “With scent?” “I’m... I can smell you. I’ve been able to smell you since you stepped into the room. This scent thing... I don’t know... How do you... how did you cope after Korra was born? Having so many scents surrounding you, didn’t it... you know... make you... uneasy” Keith cringed at his own butchered words. He didn’t have the right ones, and if he did, he wasn’t sure he’d worded it all correctly “You can smell Galra and it’s setting you on edge?” Keith ducked his head, feeling a little sheepish “Oh my, that explains everything. You’ve been letting out your own stream of scent as warning. I simply thought that was because Lance was in hospital again” Keith nodded quickly, relieved she got it and now didn’t seem mad at him for asking her outside “Lance’s pain meds are wearing down and I can smell him too... He... I’m not in his brain, but I think the last time he suffered that much trauma was when... that arsehole hurt him” “You’re worried he’s only smelling me and not seeing me?” “That to. I mean. He knows you and he knows your scent. And he was happy that you didn’t hate him... but he was off his head earlier from the medication so I can’t tell if he’s reacting to your scent or upset he can’t hold his sons” “It’s both. I forgot how sensitive he was over scents when he first came to Daibazaal, every strange scent overwhelmed him. He’d made such progress, I’d let it slip my mind he could be afraid when in such a state. Maybe I should have delay...” “No! I mean, no. We want you here. I want you here... With us... I just... I never had this scent problem until Allura changed him. I didn’t grow up with it, or if I did I didn’t notice it like I do now. I don’t... I don’t want to make you feel unwanted... you’re my mum... and you’re now a grandmother. And Lance... he wants you here too. He.. he threw a seizure Mami, and it was terrifying. He bled... and I thought...” Krolia ignored him calling her Mami, closing the distance she wrapped her arms around him, careful of Laith as Keith buried his face in the crook of her neck “You’ve been so worried about Lance that you haven’t stopped to breathe, have you?” “It was so scary... there was so much blood and it wouldn’t stop... I watched him... he tore... he... now he can’t even hold them... They won’t let him hold them... What if has another seizure? What if he...” “That’s enough. Lance is strong. He’s incredibly strong... and you’re strong too. There’s nothing wrong with being afraid, but Keith, you have less to be afraid of now. Lance is in hospital. He’s safe. You’re sons are safe, and you are in the best possible position you can be after birth” “He has to have surgery, mum... He might have to have...” “Then you’ll deal with it together” “He shouldn’t have to deal! This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I should have been prepared” “That’s the things about babies, they have no sense of time. They come when they’re ready. You did the best you could under the circumstances. You have two amazing little boys. You need to let yourself relax. You need to let yourself sleep” “I... don’t think I can. Not without him... I don’t want to take my eyes off them” “Keith, honestly. You always take too much on your own shoulders. You and Lance, you’re a partnership. He may need to rely on you more for the time being, but it’d hurt him that you aren’t being realistic and letting yourself rest. I spoke to Shiro, he said you were beside yourself when Lance was brought in. Instead of focusing on your happiness, you’re acting like it’s already been decided things will go wrong. Have faith in your sons and in Lance. Now, this scent thing. I’ve grown up with it my whole life, I can’t save I have any tips for handling it. When the scents are too much, how do you usually cope with it?” “I make him smell like me... Um... rubbing my wrist against his neck or giving him my jacket?” “And if you can’t?” “We... uh... I don’t know?” Krolia groaned at him, releasing her hug, she took him by the chin “You’re my son and I love you. You’re an idiot, but I love you for it. Now, I’m going to find someone around here who can get me a bed for you, and you’re going to hug your husband and make sure that he knows no one is going to hurt him like that ever again” “Mum, you know PTS doesn’t work like that” “I know, and this is why you’re an idiot. No one said you had to use words to reassure him. Scent him with your wrist, sit on the edge of the bed and hold him. Lance seems to respond well to physical contact” “I’m not allowed on the bed” “I won’t tell if you don’t. Hold him until he falls asleep. He’s going to be sore for quite some time. Is there any reason he can’t be placed into a pod?” Keith shook his head, hiking Laith up slightly as he did “I don’t know... When he had his bleed it scarred the tissue, that’s why he had to have that operation. If he doesn’t heal... he might...” A blush formed on his face, he didn’t want to say Lance might never be able to use the toilet properly again because he didn’t know. He didn’t know anything of how long it would take to heal Lance. It wasn’t like when he was getting high, where his wounds would heal over night. No. Going down that chain of thought led too close to temptation. Lance worked hard not to fall back into the temptation of his previous habits “He’ll get the best possible medical care that the universe can offer. We’ll ensure that. Will you be able to cope with Korra until I return? I don’t intend to be long” “Jorge seemed happy to hold her” “He is a good man from what I can tell. He’s very fond of you, that’s certainly in his favour” “Can you imagine him and Kolivan in a room together? I thought he might come with you...” Not that Keith didn’t understand that he probably couldn’t due to his commitments... He just kind of felt like if he was going to be his stepdad then maybe he’d want to come... Unless now he Korra and didn’t need Keith around to ruin his new family “He’s dealing with a pocket of resistance that cropped up during your convalescence. He sends his congratulations. The flowers are from the three of us” “A pocket of resistance?” “Nothing you need to bother with. You were where you needed to be. Go back inside, hug your husband and tell him you love him. Remember, Keith, just because Lance gave birth, that doesn’t mean his hormones or emotions will simply snap back to being as they were before. He needs you now as much as ever” His mother had told him to let himself rest, yet now she was telling him that Lance needed him. He wasn’t sure what the right answer was now. She was right. Lance was in a safe place physically, but that didn’t mean mentally... He’d have to play it by Lance’s needs. * Waking in a dozy haze, Lance wince as he went to move. His arse was throbbing mercilessly, his tongue felt heavy, his teeth furry, skin sticky, and by all things holy his arse was sore as quiznak. Beside him something was far too warm as it snored. His body titled on the thin mattress towards the weight. Groaning, he gave up trying to relieve the pressure on his back as cool palm was placed against his forehead “Try not to move, Mijo. Are you in pain?” Nodding, Lance then blinked trying to wake himself up. His stomach felt as if he’d eaten a swarm of firearms and they were not trying to crawl out of any available exit below his waist “Mami?” His Mami hushed him, her hand felt wonderful. He’d missed her so quiznakking much. With how settled in she seemed, he must have been sleeping for a while as he couldn’t actually remember her arriving, yet had the feeling this wasn’t the first time he’d spoken to her since giving birth “I’m here, sweetheart” “Hurts... Mami, it hurts” “I know, Mijo. You’re going to be feeling sore for some time” “I want to move...” Trying to push himself up again, his hand landed on the heavy beside him. The feeling of fabric beneath his hands led him to finally glance up. Keith sleeping with his arm over his shoulders and head tilted on an angle that couldn’t be comfortable “He fell asleep holding you. He hasn’t left your side. The nurses weren’t too pleased that he was sitting on the bed, but the poor boy hadn’t slept since you were brought in” He couldn’t ask Keith to move. He couldn’t do that to his husband. Keith had been so amazing every step of the way, after the arsehole had woken from his fainting spell... but at the same time, the dent in the mattress hurt... “I want to move... it hurts... wait... where are...” His heart rate picked up as he realised he couldn’t see his boys. Hushing him, she pointed to the other side of the room. Everything in the space was a tight fit, but in the corner, much too far away for his liking were two plastic cribs, and a very small bed “They’re sleeping, Mijo. They’re here, we had to make space for a second bed. Krolia can be quite forceful and it was clear Keith wouldn’t rest if he wasn’t near you. They took them down to give them a quick examination while you were both sleeping, your papi and I have been here. They’ve only just brought them back up. They thought you might wake soon” “Are they ok? I wanna hold them...” “Both beautiful and healthy. Laith’s a little bit bigger than his little brother, 52cms long, 6pound 9 ounces. Very healthy and big for his age. Hunter’s 49.5 centimetres, 6 pounds 7 ounces. Born the morning of November 13th, Earth time. They’re both beautiful. Both have Keith’s dark hair and purple eyes. He doesn’t seem to agree, but we all know their features won’t settle for another 6 months. Laith’s a little darker than Hunter, that’s my opinion, he’s beautiful Lance. They’re both beautiful. You did such a good job my darling” It was fine to do a good job, but right now he wanted to lay on his side and take the pressure off his back while he snuggled both his boys. The pain was making feel physically ill, he was sure he felt feverish as it was. He didn’t want drugs but his body did, anything to take the pain away “Does it always hurt this much?” “Well... not everyone has a birth like yours. Coran has popped by while you were sleeping, they’re exploring your options so you won’t have to go through multiple surgeries. I’ve pressed the call button, a nurse should be here soon” His Mami was using too many words now. Everything was starting to become too overwhelming “I don’t want to wake keith...” For Keith to fall asleep like this, his love must have been exhausted “Keith will understand. Keith, sweetheart. You need to wake up for me” Lance craned his neck to watch Keith wake as his Mami shook his shoulder. Sleepy purple eyes slowly blinking before he swore softly. Smacking his leg, Mami wasn’t mad. She didn’t even threaten him with the pink slipper “Keith, love. I’m sorry, Lance is in pain” “Quiznak! Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Babe, how bad is it?” “Like fifteen out of ten”, was what Lance wanted to say. It’d been a long time since he was this tender down there. The sensation left him feeling ghost weight across his thighs, but he didn’t want to bring things down. He didn’t want to remember why things had hurt so badly “Not great...” “Ok, Mami, did you call a nurse?” “Yes, I pressed the call button when he first said he was pain” Keith kissed his hair before slowly inching his way off the bed. Lance’s arse grateful not be on the uneven patch of mattress anymore. Standing, his husband stretched, before he slipped between him and Mami “How long was I asleep?” “Six hours. I didn’t want to wake you when you needed the rest” “Six... Dios...” Mami raised both eyebrows at Keith, Lance feeling a tad guilty that his home language was slipping into Keith’s vocabulary when out of all the words Keith could have said, he’d gone with “Dios” “How long have you been awake?” Lance opened his mouth, then winced when he found himself actually able to move, his lower half had zero appreciation for his efforts. Mami answering for him as she took his hand in hers, preventing him from rolling on his as he’d wanted “Not long. You passed out not long before Krolia left. She had a few things to do on base. Shiro mentioned Kosmo needed picking up. Jorge is with Shiro, he’s not great at this waiting thing. Curtis offered him a lift back home later tonight, he wanted to make sure Lance was stable before he left” Keith rubbed his eyes, nodding as he yawned. Lance wanted him back by his side, despite the pain that it’d cause. He wanted real cuddles with his husband because he was feeling absolutely miserable “The boys?” “Perfect angles” Padding softly over to the cribs, Keith smiled as he placed his hands on the plastic sides “Hello my babies... Lance, do you want to try having a hold?” “Yes!” He wanted his babies. He wanted snuggles and to curl around them. He wanted to relieve the weight in his breasts, and try feeding his beautiful boys. He wanted to see them. He knew he’d seen them but that wasn’t enough. He wanted his baby boys up where he could watch them, where he could keep them safe “Mijo, maybe we should wait until the nurse checks you?” “I wanna hold them” “I know, sweetheart. But you are very very weak right now. You can’t push yourself” “I wanna hold my boys” Shit. The tears in his eyes were unexpected, not an attempt at sympathy or manipulation. Why couldn’t he hold them? Didn’t he deserve to? He might be weak, but he loved them. He wasn’t going to hurt them... Did his Mami think he’d scare his children as he’d done with Nadia and Sylvio? He’d fucked up then, but he’d never... he’d never wanted to hurt them. He’d never wanted to hurt anyone. Did his Mami hate him for all the people he’d killed? “Babe, hey. Hey, no tears. Laith’s right here” Sniffling loudly, he’d missed Keith picking up their baby boy and cradling Laith... Laith meant lion. He wanted his son to be brave and fierce “My little lion cub” Keith nodded, he didn’t seem mad at him “Yeah baby, our little lion cub. Can you move your arms for me? I’ll rest him on your shoulder” “Keith...” His Mami’s voice a low warning “He deserves to be able to hold his own son” “I’m not saying he doesn’t, he’s simply in a lot of pain” Being close to Laith made things more bearable, his son was tangible proof of his struggle and that the pain wasn’t from... wasn’t from something horrible. He was so in love with his sons that he never wanted to let them go. Being separated was breaking his heart, nearly as bad as being made to feel too psychotic to be a father, and a whole other pain that what his lower body was experiencing “Please? I’ll be good” Keith kissed his forehead “You’re already good. You did so good birthing them. You make me so quiznakking proud to be your husband” Lance’s cheeks felt even warmer, he’d blame the fever if anyone teased him for it. Settling Laith on his shoulder, Lance rested his cheek against his son’s head. He was heavy, warm and maybe a touch uncomfortable to hold... and everything else he thought holding his boy would be. His hand rested on his son’s back where Keith had placed it. He was able to feel his son breathing, able to smell traces of himself and Keith on the small boy. That second side of him that always seemed to lead him into embarrassing situations was preening over their son. Instead of those voices that’d been abusing him, his head felt a kind of nice empty as his breathing calmed “He’s so small” “They both are. You look good like that. Relaxed, and content” “My arse is in the red-zone but I can’t find the effort to care when I’m holding him. I think... I held them before, didn’t?” “When they were born. Shiro laid Laith on your chest... Do you remember?” Bits and pieces. The pain wasn’t letting him focus. It was the wrong kind of pain for that, it was the kind of pain that left him afraid and on edge, but Laith anchored him “Yes and no. I remember needing to push. I think... no. No, you delivered Hunter. I don’t remember much though... Where’s Kosmo? He should be here” “We left Kosmo at the cabin. He’s too curious to let roam the Garrison” Kosmo was his fur son. He might be huge, but he was also sensitive. He had to know he was still loved. Lance wanted him to meet his brothers. He’d loved them so much before they’d been born “I want to see him” Keith kissed his hair again, then promptly yawned against his hair. His idiot husband hadn’t been taking care of himself, not that he was in any position to lecture him “Shiro’s going to pick him up later” “Then I can see him?” “Yeah... Will you be ok? I need to use the bathroom” Lance snorted through his nose, making the attempt for Keith’s sake “I’m not going anywhere” “Just making sure” “You need to worry about yourself, mister. I’d flick you in the forehead if you weren’t too far away” Keith grumbled his words back at him “I’ll flick you in the forehead” “You wouldn’t” Keith would have caught his slip of the tongue with the use of the word “Red”. He’d passed “red” and was far into “black”. The Cuban was exhausted from his little show of pretending everything was alright, that he could handle pain when he clearly couldn’t, not when he wanted to be high off his head. They’d come at him with drugs, he knew they would, and if Keith wasn’t there he wasn’t sure he’d be strong enough to say no “No. You’re right. I’ll be back as fast as I can” Keith was coming back from the bathroom as the nurse came sweeping into the room. Carrying a holopad, she seemed less than amused as his Mami lifted Laith off his shoulder. Wiping his hands on his pants, his husband detoured as Hunter began to cry “What seems to be the problem here? Lance is supposed to be resting” Gathering up Hunter, Keith shot him a look, Lance giving him the smallest shake of his head. Instantly he took a dislike to the woman before him. This was why he disliked the Garrison, he wasn’t wanted here. Everyone was only nice to him because he been the ex-Red Paladin. They didn’t see him, nor did they appreciate him, for himself “He woke in quite a bit of pain. Can we move him?” “Ideally we would prefer him not move, nor is he to lift anything heavy at this point in time. Now that you’re awake, we need to perform certain tests, and assess your injury. Your mother and your... Keith may wait outside while we examine you” Yes, Keith was his. Also his husband, they’d paraded that around enough that no one should be hesitant in accepting their relationship. Then again, Krystaal lied and manipulated his arse off to get to Keith... What if this stranger was the same? He wasn’t going to let anyone take Keith from his side “No” “No” Objecting at the same time Lance knew how he could be. Sometimes things went through one ear and out the other, even when he wished it wasn’t so. Sometimes a touch would send him off the deep end. Sometimes he wasn’t to be trusted with his own health. That was why Keith was listed everywhere as having to be present for all his medical procedures and appointments. If his husband couldn’t be there in person, he was to be brief, because Lance knew that was how things needed to be. He was in no mood to be bossed around when he’d danced like a puppet on a string for the stupid Coalition, nor was he in the mood to have his husband tossed from the room. Keith would worry himself to the point of implosion. He always did “The examination will be quite thorough and somewhat private” She had to find him a freak, and that was why she was acting the way she did “I gave birth out of my arse. He was there when I fell pregnant and he was there when his kids came out the same way they went up” Lance’s words felt chewy and claggy, clunky as if his tongue couldn’t quite get around them. Had she approached him with politeness he would have made the effort back, despite the pain and discomfort. He knew how to play nice, but he shouldn’t have to. Embarrassment was what really twisted his words, more so than fear. He knew they must all think him abnormal after giving birth in such a way “Mijo! I’m sorry, he’s in quite a lot of pain” “Evidently. We’ve been told to halt plans on his surgery until his previous scans he consulted. For now we need to check the after birth bleeding and to ensure infection hasn’t begun to set in. Once he’s been assessed we will administer pain relief” Narrowing his eyes, Lance felt as if they thought he was faking it. He’d like to see them give birth out of their arse and look a tenth as good as he did. Carrying their still grizzling Hunter to his side, Keith placed his hand on Lance’s shoulder. His husband being the brave lion guarding their small family “Has his regular physician been contacted, as well as his obstetrician? They’ll both have more updated scans than the ones on New Altea” “I understand that Coran has insisted on over seeing every aspect of Lance’s treatment. Earth medicine has been found to be lacking” Then she wasn’t mad at him personally? She was mad that their job was being hijacked by his crazy Altean Space Uncle. In this case, maybe it’d be better to just let every one at the Garrison poke at him until they gave up because he was something other than human. He wasn’t feeling great as it was. He didn’t want this added stress of being careful. He wanted Daehra’s tough love... or to be on Erathus were he wasn’t treated with any “special” attention “Mami, can you take them out the room... I don’t... I don’t want them be here when they...” Patting his hand, his Mami missed the other implication in his words “Mijo, examinations are natural after birth” “Mami, please” Please don’t make him explain this. Please don’t make him explain that he didn’t know how he’d cope with being touched down there. His big blue eyes stared up at his mother, begging her with everything he had to do this for him “You have nothing to be ashamed of. If Krolia were here, she’d say the exact same thing” But he did. He wanted the drugs and he didn’t want to be touched. He was already pressing his thighs together, heart starting to race. They hadn’t even touched him yet and he was feeling the need to bolt “Mami...” “Mami, I think maybe he’s... I think he might have a point. I’m not trying to kick you out, but he... you know he has episodes” Lance threw up a little in his mouth. Keith hadn’t betrayed him, but he had. He didn’t want to admit his imperfections in front of his boys. They were everything he wasn’t. Perfect, innocent, unaware of the evils in the world. They didn’t know their father was a fruit loop shy of a full box. Heck, he was a whole socket set shy of a full toolbox, as well as a missing hammer and a screwdriver for extra measure “Oh, Mijo... I... Of course, I’ll wait outside then. Right outside the door. No one’s going to hurt you, my sweet boy” He didn’t want his mother’s pity. He didn’t want anyone’s pity. He wanted to feel numb and hold his babies. Not be treated like this. He had to be strong for Keith and their boys, but his stupid brain didn’t always get the memo. He was terrified how he was going to react to being touched down there. To having multiple people looking between his legs and at his bodily functions like he an experiment. News of the birth had probably already hit the media, outlets would be rushing to know how he gave birth and would be explaining how a normal human male couldn’t. The pain in his back was crippling as he tried to draw himself in to as small a shape he could make. Why couldn’t he be goddamn normal? * The moment the blanket had been moved back to examine Lance, he’d panicked. Keith grabbing him by the shoulders to pin him down to the bed as his husband tried to escape. Frayed and guilt ridden, the excitement sent Lance into a seizure and Keith nearly lost his mind as he was pulled away. Lance had had the feeling he wouldn’t be able to cope with things the way they were. Separated, he felt useless, half wishing Lance would lose consciousness to spare him the embarrassment of the coming examination, his husband, however, didn’t. The seizure lasting barely 30 ticks before passing, extremely mild compared to some. It seemed as if Lance’s brain had needed to dump the extra pressure he was putting on himself into some kind of physical form. Finding its release in a seizure that could kindly fuck right off with the rest of Lance’s seizures. He wasn’t completely sure it was seizure if he was honest and not Lance’s body reacting to the pain he was in. A little dazed and a whole lot of tender, Lance whined softly until the medical staff rolled him onto his side and Keith was able to dart forward when an assisting orderly moved enough to left him close. Crouching down left him too low, kneeling working better as he grabbed Lance’s hand, kissing the back of it as he did. Blinking at him, Keith smiled the best he could. Lance’s arse and back were exposed now, his husband’s modesty out the window “Focus on me, baby” Forming words on his lips, Lance’s voice stayed locked inside. His husband was trying to apologise for his current state of fear. Lance didn’t want to feel like this. Keith didn’t want to feel quite as mad towards the nurse as he did. Lance’s hackles has been raised before she’d stepped in. She was trying to do her job, but he’d always and forever be on Lance’s side. He wasn’t even the one suffering, yet he felt overwhelmed. Miriam shouldn’t have set him on edge by saying he couldn’t hold the twins. Keith hadn’t intended to lay their full weight in Lance’s arms, he’d intended to place them on Lance’s shoulder all along. He didn’t know how to dad, he just knew what Lance wanted and needed, and that was to be with his boys. “Try to keep him focused on you” Lance bit down on his lip as he puffed out his cheeks, determined not to scream. Behind his husband the doctor seemed to be tending to his bleeding backside. With eyes tightly scrunched, his husband’s hand seemed intent on crushing his. He’d promised his husband that his body belonged to him and that he didn’t have to show that part of him to anyone he didn’t want to. Unfortunately, it was kind of necessary. The area already high with all sorts of nasty germs before the birth leaving him more prone to infection in that area. Plus, his husband had been damaged down there in the past, Keith had seen the fine traces of scarring, yet kept it to himself for Lance’s sake “It’s the doctor, babe. It’s not him. It’s not them. They’re not here and they can’t touch you” Anxiety was a douche, Lance braver than he was. If their positioned had been swapped there was no way he’d be letting himself be touched. Resting his chin on the edge of the bed, he squeezed his husband’s hand, Lance breaking his silence to whisper to him “I’m sorry...” “Nope. You don’t need to be sorry. What do you want to do when we get out of here. What’s the first thing you wanna do?” Lance cringed, hand tightening around his “Do you want to see the beach? Or we can take a ship for a spin around the planet?” “I want... to hold my boys for myself” “You’re going to be doing a whole lot of that. I don’t care that you’re not meant to, your their daddy” “You’re their daddy too...” “But I wasn’t the one giving birth” “You had to see it all... you were scared” “Maybe just a little bit” “Keith... if you want to... I won’t be mad if you want to take a break” A break from watching over him, or a “break” like a break in their relationship? He wasn’t going anywhere “Idiot. I’m staying here with my family” Lance closed his eyes, Keith leaning forward to kiss him softly “I don’t deserve you” Kissing him again, Lance sent his heart racing. The first thing he wanted to do when Lance was finally allowed to move was to cuddle him properly. Have him sit in his lap and enjoy feeling his solid weight in his arms. He wanted to take him out to watch the sun rise, their boys in their arms as Kosmo laid on the end of the picnic blanket “I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you. Now, what else are we going to do?” “Sleep... maybe... maybe go to Cuba? If... you’re ok with that?” Cuba... Lance’s Mami and Jorge were here. Marco was with Daehra, Veronica on the Atlas... Rachel and Luis were there... and... No, he wouldn’t go to Cuba just for them, not when they could come to him “You want to see your grandparents? You want them to meet our boys, don’t you?” “If... only if it’s okay” “Of course it is. You know, Curtis and Shiro will probably bring our things back from the cabin. We can put that blanket on your bed when they have. When you’re feeling a bit better we can call? Then see them when you’re released” “I don’t think they want me here. I’m not normal” Keith couldn’t be happier Lance wasn’t “normal”. They had two gorgeous little boys because he wasn’t. Beside, Lance had always done things in his own way “I don’t care if you’re not normal. I’ll never forgive them if they don’t give you the medical attention you need. I’m sure Shiro wouldn’t mind if I shot them” Lance snorted wetly “You can’t shoot everything...” “I should be saying that to you” “I don’t think I can shoot anything right now” “Babe, you literally woke up from a coma and nailed a shot on Sendak. You couldn’t have a bad shot, even if you tried” Lance hissed, clenching Keith’s hand again. He didn’t think they’d need to be so thorough back there. They should have given Lance pain relief before they started their examination, he’d seen the aftermath and he knew it wasn’t pretty. Something for the pain, and if they suspected he’d have a seizure, then something for that too. Outside of the cocktail of drugs, whatever he’d had implanted on Erathus seemed the best measure to control his seizures. Lance fell silent mid-exam, Keith having to use gentle prodding to get him to answer the doctors questions. His husband was bleeding naturally, another thing he didn’t know about was that Lance essentially had his period after birth and that was a load of crap as far as Keith was concerned. Birth was bad enough, this bleeding stuff wasn’t exactly fair. It also explained a little more over why Lance was so edgy. He preferred to be clean down there, even the times he blew it off, Keith would have preferred to clean him up. Sex was a big thing for his husband and he wanted him to enjoy every moment, even the after. Though they would have preferred for him to remain sitting upright, Keith fought to have Lance allowed to lay on his side, even for a few hours, anything to relieve his pain. When they finally administered pain relief, the guilt on Lance’s face fucking hurt, but whatever the outcome was from his needed medication they’d figure it out. When they were both rested and past Lance’s surgeries... Miriam or Krolia would have to be there, someone with more parenting experience than him. He’d have to find a room on base too, they’d probably want Lance close for the first few days after his release, unless he could get Coran to transfer Lance to Altea. Men giving birth there wasn’t such a strange thing. Dios. He was bone tired and it wasn’t even lunch time. * Food was a think Keith had forgotten. A very important thing that filled the hole his forgotten hunger had gnawed into the pit of his stomach. Lance was on a strict liquid diet, the sign above his bed so, but with how high his husband was, and his current state, Keith severely doubted that Lance gave two quiznaks when it came to food. Laying on his side, Laith and Hunter lay before him. Lance transfixed on their baby boy, while Pidge and Krolia chatted on the bed his mother had gotten for him. In his chair, Coran was talking softly to Lance. More at Lance. Mami had come shuffling back into Lance’s room, the personification of worry as the first of the medical staff left. Her nose wrinkled up at Lance’s scent, then wide eyed and concerned as they were told to watch for seizures. Having promised Lance he could cuddle with his sons, that had to wait as a nappy change was needed. Miriam talking him through it, Keith not sure he’d ever get over what he’d seen in Hunter’s nappy. They’d barely settled Lance down, who’d gotten “slightly” excited when Laith was laid in his sight, when Coran, bearing food for him and Miriam. His mother had arrived a few minutes later with Pidge who seemed to escaping from whatever she was supposedly to be doing by bringing her laptop with her. Feeling second hand embarrassment for his husband, dusty redness still in Keith’s cheeks as he attempted to pretend what had happened hadn’t. Lance had proudly declared that “Keith’s huge dick had made the most perfect babies and he was his baby, and that he wanted another one”. This came with the declaration that “Keith wasn’t allowed to destroy his arse again” and “if Keith came at him with that thing he might end up with it cut off and shoved up his own arse”. His husband happily telling Coran all of this when all Coran had wanted to do was sit by him and their boys. Given Lance had done similar, Keith wasn’t going to get too close... He was rather attached to his junk. Performing his first true parenting duty by “sacrificing” his boys to their loved up father for food, he scarfed down half the plate without tasting anything. He might have gone a day or three back in the Blades without food due to missions, but living with Lance and Curtis always meant he was well fed. His stomach not impressed over having been neglected.

[hazel2468]

Light Like Water from the Sky

Okay, here goes! Chapter 2 of my Jojo fic is ready to post. Hope y’all like it. As usual, I’m putting it under a cut.

No content warnings for now, though in the future there will be for violence, and as of yet undetermined not sfw content.

Chapter 2 (…If I am Anywhere to be Found)

 It was easy to follow the man with the silver hair. He towered over most other people, and his attire meant that he stuck out like a sore thumb amongst locals and tourists alike. How he wasn’t baking to death in all that black on such a sunny day, Ruby didn’t know- nor did she really care. It was possible that tailing him wouldn’t lead to Bruno at all, and she entertained the thought that she would end up walking right back into danger. But her gut told her otherwise, and her gut was rarely wrong.

She ended up back on the main street, weaving amongst the crowd, being careful to stay out of sight. Ruby was rusty- it had been a long time since she had to follow anyone, but this man seemed too sure of himself. Without so much as a backward glance, he turned a corner, and she jogged to catch up. Maybe he thought he scared her off. While the thought irritated her, it was working in her favor. She peered around the corner, taking acre not to jostle her groceries too hard-

And she froze. Standing next to the jerk who had accosted her was a man in a blue and white sweater, wearing a hat (and it looked like it was made of wool… In this heat?) and with a poorly concealed revolver in his waistband. And beside him…

Was Bruno.

He looked the same as she remembered- well, almost the same. Somehow, his suit jacket had gotten even more low cut, and she could see the black lines of a tattoo swirling across his skin. He was frowning at the man in the hat, arms crossed.

“Hey, Bucciarati.” The man with the silver hair raised a hand, waving.

“You’re late, Abbacchio.” Bruno said sternly. Abbacchio, the asshole, shrugged.

“I ran into a bit trouble. Some chick was looking for you. I took care of it.”

“Oh, really?” the man in the hat elbowed Bruno in the ribs lightly, grinning. “Well aren’t you popular.”

“Mista, shove it. And please tell me you weren’t rude, Abbacchio.”

Ruby ducked back behind the wall, stomach tight. He was right there. She should just walk up and say hello- would really show that Abbacchio a thing or two. And while the idea was tempting… She was nervous.

It had been three years. Four, if she started counting from when she left Italy. And four years was a long time, especially in Bruno’s world. She chanced another peek, and it seemed her luck had run out, because this time when she stole a glance at Bruno’s face, their eyes locked.

She nearly dropped her bag, fumbling as an onion tumbled to the ground and rolled away. Cursing, she reached for it, aware that all three of them were watching her now.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Abbacchio rumbled, and she knew that he would be giving her a murderous stare when she looked up. “I told you not to-“

“Ruby?”

Bruno was pushing past Abbacchio, eyes wide, as if he was looking at a ghost. He might as well have been, Ruby thought bitterly- she had basically disappeared on him.

“Hey, Bruno.” She managed, straightening up and tucking the wayward onion back into her bag. “Long time no, see, huh?” What else was she supposed to say? Trying her very hardest to look as casual as possible, she started down the sidewalk towards him. He met her, taking long strides, and he reached for her before hesitating and drawing back.

“May I?” he said, and Ruby broke into a smile.

“Do you even have to ask?” she laughed, before placing her groceries on an unoccupied table and wrapping her arms around him. He responded in kind with a warm chuckle. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too, bella.” He murmured, the little term of endearment sending a shiver down Ruby’s spine. He smelled like cologne and summer, and she pressed her face into his shoulder, willing herself not to cry in front of three Mafiosi. Opening her eyes, she caught a glimpse of Abbacchio over Bruno’s shoulder. He looked decidedly displeased, scowling at her, and she winked at him. “Where have you been?”

“Poland.” She replied, leaning back to fully take him in. His hair was longer than it had been the last time she saw him, and he had half of it done up in a braid at the top of his head. It suited him. “I spent some time in Spain, and Germany, too. But mostly I was with family.” His blue eyes turned sad, and he ran a comforting hand up her arm.

“I heard about your mother… I’m so sorry, cara.” She shook her head.

“It’s alright, really. She was ill. I just… I couldn’t come back so soon after. I should have kept in touch, I’m s-“ he placed a long finger to her lips.

“It’s okay, Ruby. You’re back now. That’s what matters.” Bruno was beaming again, and she gave him an appraising once-over, raising an eyebrow at his eccentric suit.

“I see you’re still a fan of polka-dots.” She said with a smirk. “You look good, bello. And what’s this I hear about you being some kind of big-shot now?”

“That’s a long story.” Bruno said, wrinkling his nose at her. “Besides, I hardly think I’m the one who looks good. Stunning, as always.”

“Tu provichi!” Ruby swatted lightly at his arm and he laughed again, the sound echoing down the street. “There’s so much I want to talk about… But it would seem,” she gestured over his shoulder at the other two. “That I’m keeping you?”

“Ah…” his face fell. “I’m sorry, bella. I don’t-“

“Bruno, really. Don’t worry about it. You have to go do your capo business, and I have to get the groceries home for dinner. Tell you what.” She rummaged in her purse for a pen and then tore a scrap of brown paper from her grocery bag. “I’m back. I got an apartment, and I’m working with Papa in the shop again.” She bent over the table, scribbling her number down and then thrusting the paper at Bruno. “Call me anytime. Or text me. I always have time for you, caro.” He took it, and she gathered up her shopping. “I’ll leave you to it- I think Bela Legosi is about to blow a fuse.”

Bruno snorted as Abbacchio huffed indignantly, turning tail and stalking into the restaurant. “I’ll be in touch.”

“You better. Ciao, Bruno.” She grasped his hand, entwining their fingers for a moment before spinning around and making her way back towards the main road, smiling and feeling lighter than she had all day.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Bruno had been staring down at the scrap of paper in his hands for the last ten minutes, transfixed by the curly numbers and scribble of Ruby’s name in the corner.

“Earth to Bucciarati? Hello?” Mista was waving a hand in his face, and Bruno jumped. The gunslinger was grinning at him, eyes wide and bright. “So… Are you going to explain what the hell that was?”

“…I don’t know what you mean.” Bruno said. Abbacchio was glaring at his glass of wine, clearly irritated.

“Can’t believe she fucking followed me. What a little…”

Narancia and Fugo, who had been pouring over some equations when the other three entered, were now watching with curiosity as Mista continued to prod Bruno.

“Come on, Bucciarati! Who is she? Don’t leave us hanging!” Bruno frowned as Mista dropped back into his seat, pulling his gun from his pants and snapping open the chamber. The Pistols clambered out and over his hand, squabbling as he held out a piece of cured meat to them.

“She’s… an old friend.” Bruno said, rubbing the paper between finger and thumb. “I… I should just throw this out.” Mista choked on his water, coughing until Abbacchio leaned over and thumped him heavily on his back.

“Throw it out? We were both looking at the same person, right?” he said when he finally recovered, throat gravelly. “Shit, if you don’t want her number, I’ll take it!” Bruno chewed his lower lip, sparing another glance for Abbacchio. He was angrily swirling his drink now, eyes dark.

“Don’t beat yourself up, Abbacchio.” Bruno said. “That’s just Ruby.”

“What kind of…short person follows a fucking gangster around?” Abbacchio snarled in response. “Is she trying to get herself killed?”

“What does being short have to do with it?” Narancia interjected, leaning over the table to glare at Abbacchio, who scoffed.

“She’s even smaller than you.” He said. Mista chuckled, squinting at Narancia.

“Damn. And she stood up to you, Abbacchio? She’s got guts. Didn’t you say she pulled a knife on you?”

Bruno gave Abbacchio a firm pat on the shoulder, suppressing a chuckle as his teammate glowered up at the ceiling. “Yeah, she did. Slippery little thing.”

“She sounds it-  But you’re avoiding the subject, Bucciarati.” Mista said, and Bruno bit back a groan. Damn, he was persistent. “So, she’s an old friend. And you sure seemed happy to see her… I don’t think I’ve ever seen you hug anyone.”

“He hugged her?” Narancia said through a mouthful of food. “You can’t just HUG someone and then ditch their number!”

“I don’t think that’s how hugs work, Narancia.” Fugo said. “Still… He has a point, Bucciarati. That would be a little rude.”

“What’s the harm in texting her?” Mista asked, pushing Number Three away from Number Five as they tussled over a grape. “I mean, she asked you to.”

“The harm,” Abbacchio said, before Bruno could answer, “Is that she clearly has no sense of self-preservation.”

“I think you’re just mad that she got the best of you.” Narancia said, ducking behind Fugo as Abbacchio snarled in his direction. Bruno looked back down at the paper, and then pulled his phone from his pocket. Mista cheered.

“I’m just saying hello.” Bruno said, before he could go on another tangent about pretty girls and dates. “When I need your advice, I’ll ask for it.” Mista grumbled, and Narancia began craning his neck, trying to get a look at the little screen until Fugo pulled him back down into his seat.

Bruno wrote and re-wrote the message three times. It was only when Abbacchio, who was watching him, made an impatient sound that he bit the bullet and sent it.

‘I would love to catch up sometime, bella.’

The fact that she clearly didn’t have his number anymore put the ball squarely in his court. Bruno didn’t want to come across as too pushy or eager, no matter how excited he was to see her again-

His phone pinged before he could even place it on the table.

‘I’m free evenings and weekends. If that works with your tough-guy schedule.’

He laughed, and then Narancia and Mista were hanging over him, shoving one another as they tried to read the message over his shoulders. Turning his back on them, he replied-

‘Coffee and a walk Friday evening?’

This time, he managed to get his phone into his pocket and gave his two rowdy subordinates a look and a short lecture. Mista kept grumbling about his lack of ‘romantic undertones’ and Narancia peppered him with questions about Ruby. When Fugo interjected that he doubted Mista knew anything about romance and they dissolved into debate, Bruno felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He smiled- he didn’t need to look now.

He knew what her answer would be.

[chrysalispen]

#FFXIVWrite2019 - 1. Voracious

let’s see how this goes

No spoilers, just some fun WoL fluffy kidfic <3

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

-----------------

1. voracious

----------------

The fat sausage links fair gleamed in their casings under the noonday sun.

From his hiding place behind the stack of crates, Sev felt his mouth water. The boy licked his lips, tail lashing against his dirty legs. He imagined the meat, juicy and flavored with all sorts of spices and just ever so slightly smoky, maybe with a piece of fresh baked bread. At the thought of a proper meal, the tip of his tongue slid over his new sharp canines that he still wasn't quite used to just yet. He'd only lost the last of his milk teeth two years ago.

Two years, he thought, surprised. Two years since Mum left.

At least, he was fairly sure that had been two years ago. Sev didn't have the best grasp on time. Like many of Ala Mhigo's smallfolk, the young Miqo'te largely knew the passing of the year by the turn of the cold months. But that sounded right. He'd dropped the first tooth not long before the old king had died, and not long after that the Northmen had come in their strange flying metal machines and impenetrable black armor. 

The Garleans, as they called themselves, had put the king's council to the sword and sacked the city, and two years later they had the full run of the place. Not that it had especially changed his circumstances.

His thoughts turned away from his newly sharp teeth and back to the meat they wished to tear, as though his hunger had a mind of its own. The old man wasn't looking in his direction at all! He was helping a woman with her purchase, a heavyset lady in fine linens and new leather that probably cost as much as the whole butcher's stand.

Sev felt a surge of hope. If he was careful he could have what he wanted and no one would be the wiser. His prey was one of several draped over a piece of metal that had been hammered into the wooden pole. One good jostle would cause it to fall.

Why, I could just knock that old link right off its hook. 

He'd never have a better chance. Maybe if he just leaned forward as if he were trying to look at the wares...

"Hey!" the lady shouted in alarm. She'd chanced to look up just in time for the boy to lean in from the crates, his hand wrapped around one of the links. "Thief! Thief!"

Sev leapt back with a startled cry, nearly crashing into the crates he'd been hiding behind, and took off running with his prize clutched in one fist and the old man screaming for help at his back.

===========

Two bells later he had to admit to himself that he was hopelessly lost.

Once upon a time, he'd known the way back home by heart. When Sev was little, he always knew when it was getting time to pay the rent on their apartment. Rent week was when the larder was empty and Mum started taking her visitors. She'd hang a length of red cloth outside her door, usually the threadbare handkerchief she kept in the drawer of her ancient desk (which sat under the only window in the whole apartment), and tell him to go amuse himself outside with his friends. When she was done, the cloth would be gone and he'd go back inside and she'd be there waiting to send him to the marketplace and refill their larder.

My Seven, my last and best boy, she'd praise him. Such a good son. Then she'd hug him, her body damp through her homespun, as she pressed a small pouch of gil into his little fingers. Whatever Mum and her visitors talked about, she always bathed before she took her red handkerchief down from the door, and it was that he remembered, his nose full of the stringent smell of lye, and of the scents she liked to use in her bathwater.

Over the next year the red handkerchief had stayed up for longer periods, days at a time, even a sennight sometimes. At first Sev had gone hungry, more than willing to wait for Mum to finish her long visits. But finally he'd given in to his hunger, and sometimes the cloth would be removed from the door and sometimes it would not, and he'd had to dig out his own bolt-holes for sleep, or offer to share his food with one of the other kids in exchange, or. Something.

Then finally one day he'd come home and the red cloth had been gone and so had his Mum. None of their neighbors knew what had happened to her, whether or not the imperials had taken her away or where she'd gone or if she'd ever be back, and none of them particularly seemed to care. One woman had scowled at him and said 'good riddance to that harlot' and closed the door in his face, and Sev had been alone for good.

That first night, he'd curled up on the empty doorstep and cried himself to sleep waiting for her. Eventually he'd forced himself to let those memories fade and grow sepia-toned. He never did return to that little apartment in its old and unfashionable district, a mere stone's throw from the slums where he now scraped out a living. There, the streets crisscrossed and meandered in strange ways into ancient taverns and alcoves so deeply hidden they never saw the blazing sun even in the heat of the day.

But this wasn't the so-called 'Ala Mhigan District' either. All he saw on either side were enormous mansions and iron gates and improbably green lawns.

So, it didn't take Sev very long to realize he was lost.

This place was like an entire world apart from the rest of the city. He stood before a big stone fountain with fresh running water that gurgled prettily out of the top, splashing into a pool with little red flowers floating in it. It was surrounded by carefully groomed bushes and even a stone bench to sit and rest or just take in the scenery. The streets beneath his worn shoes were neatly laid brick lined with black steel, mostly new, free of potholes or chocobo guano, and lined with new trees.

People lived here, he marveled. In the days of the old king, the royals had all lived here. But they were vanished or dead or both and now the only occupants of these fine houses were wealthy merchants and imperial army officers. There'd be no one of his like within walls so grand, unless they were working the grounds as ser-

The loud, thumping rattle of multiple footsteps marching in tandem brought him out of his awed reverie. Sev froze on the spot, his ears laid flat and twitching. He knew that sound well enough: an imperial patrol. They were heaviest in the poor areas, but it seemed even the idle rich saw their share of Garlean steel.

And the patrol was coming this way; he'd be arrested for sure the minute they saw him, thrown in their gaol and left to rot if he was lucky. He knew exactly how he looked: a scruffy, dirty street child, cheeks flushed and golden eyes wild, tearing down the streets of the Palace (no, he self-corrected, that's not right, they call it something else now) District with obviously stolen food clutched in one fist. There was exactly zero chance they would not know immediately what he'd done.

He would have run if he knew where to go, but he didn't even know how he'd got here in the first place. The more he thought about it, the more scared he became.

"You! Boy!"

That voice belonged to a child. His head swiveled from side to side, seeking its owner and finding... no one in sight? Who was talking to him then? Was he imagining things? Was it a ghost? The old folk said the Mad King had killed lots of people, even his own kin; mayhap the streets here were haunted? What if-

He let out a sharp yelp as something hard popped him in the back of the head.

"Ow!"

"Pick that up and get over here! They're coming!" 

He bent over to pick up whatever had been thrown at him and saw that it was some kind of red and green fruit that looked a bit like a pear. Then he saw the small hand waving at him. It dangled down from the branches of a low hanging old-growth tree that stood just behind a thick stone wall near one of the wrought iron gates. 

"Give me your hand, I'll pull you up!"

The voice was young and rather imperious, as if its owner were accustomed to giving orders and having them followed. Still, Sev dashed across the street and extended his hand, and immediately found himself pulled up, bodily, albeit slowly-- there was a small, pained grunt of exertion as they tried to lift him. He forced himself to stop flailing, bracing his feet against the trunk to assist. His shoes, worn down to tattered flaps, scrabbled at the bark for purchase and his tail lashed furiously, trying to help him keep his balance--but it only took a moment for his natural climbing instincts to assume control.

Once he decided he wasn't going to just drop right back to the cobbled street on his arse in front of an imperial patrol, Sev let go of that sweaty little hand, crept towards the trunk, then carefully balanced his weight across the branches beneath his feet like rough and very uneven stair steps.

"This way," the voice ordered, this time a whisper. "Don't make any noise."

He followed the child down through the tree branches, watching his steps carefully and trying to keep quiet and safeguard the only meal he'd probably get for the next handful of suns. Finally they were clear of the tree and crawling down the trunk to land in soft, manicured grass.

"There, boy. You're safe here," that small, oddly accented voice said, with a supreme confidence he wished he felt. "It'll be another half-bell before they report in. As long as you're gone before their shift change, you won't get caught."

Sev sat down with a small exhalation, cradling his ill-gotten gains (which were by now somewhat the worse for wear), and looked up to see the face of his rescuer. A very small Garlean stared back. Her hair was the color of honey, the sidelocks neatly braided, and her eyes were a very deep blue. She wore a fine pinafore dress beneath an apron currently covered in dirt and grass stains.

She also seemed to have noticed his confusion: that pale brow had knitted in a faint and curious frown, the wrinkle of it pausing just beneath the lower curve of her third eye.

"Boy?" she repeated. "Is aught amiss? Are you hurt?"

"I... n-no. I'm... I'm fine. I just..."

His stomach chose that moment to gurgle again, loud enough for both of them to hear.

"If you're hungry, then eat something."

"But these are raw."

"Ew, not those." She plucked the fruit he'd still had in one hand. "Here, you can have this. It's a mango. From Thavnair. They're good."

He just stared at her. She stared right back, carelessly tossing the fruit (mango?) from one hand to the other, those impossibly dark blue eyes tracking over his face. Then she extended her hand.

"I'm Aurelia," she said. "What's your name?"

"I.. um. Sev."

"That's short for something? Some Ala Mhigan name?"

"Uh, no." Sev stared down at the sausages in their casings, feeling small and foolish. "It's, uh. It's short for 'Seven'."

"Seven," the Garlean said, and her voice was flat and matter-of-fact in a way that clearly indicated she thought he was joking. "Right."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That's a really weird name," she said bluntly.

"It's not a weird name!" Sev snapped, stung by her dismissal. "Aurelia is a weird name. What does it even mean?"

"At least my name is an actual name!" She scowled fiercely at him and stamped her little leather boot-clad foot against the grass, lower lip thrust out. "Who names their kid a number? That's just lazy!"

"My mum's not lazy, your mum's lazy!"

"My mama can't be lazy! She's dead!"

For a moment the two children glared at each other, Sev's tail thumping viciously against the grass. 

Aurelia's eyes looked a little too bright, and he almost asked her if she was going to cry before he felt the lump in his own throat and the prickling heat at his eyes, at the unbidden memory of lye soap and cardamom, and realized with horror that if anyone was going to cry, it was him.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things about your mum. Thank you for hiding me from the ironhe-... uh, the soldiers."

She shrugged, as if the entire argument meant nothing to her.

"Are you going to carry that thing around all day?"

"It's not a thing, it's food. It's sausage."

The Garlean girl's delicate little nose wrinkled in distaste. "Whatever it is, it smells gross. I bet it's been out in the sun too long."

"It's not gross."

"It is too. If you eat spoiled meat you'll get a sour belly." She thrust a hand towards him. "Give it over. I'm throwing it in the bin."

"But I'm hungry," Sev whined. It earned him a huffed exhalation and a very dramatic roll of her eyes.

"Ugh, just-- just follow me, you big baby. I'll get you all the sausages you'll ever want."

=========

Thus did a boy named Seven meet a girl named Aurelia, and a hapless cook became utterly convinced that her kitchen was haunted by the vengeful ghost of Mad King Theodoric. Aurelia supposed they might have overdone things a little with the wailing and the creaking door-hinges.

The paring knife and half-dozen mangoes missing from the larder were more difficult to explain when Aurelia helped herself to a perfectly sizeable dinner that night, however. Her governess was perfectly well aware that she loved mangoes, was not herself Ala Mhigan, and therefore had no cause to believe in angry ghosts nicking sausages from the cold pantry. No matter how much Cook insisted otherwise.

But at least now, she had her first real friend ever. And that was worth a few stolen sausages and a night confined to her chambers without dessert.

[vertebralheights]

REALLY LONG CHARACTER SURVEY. RULES. repost ,   don’t  reblog  !  good  luck  !

TAGGED. Redoing this from uhhh last year almost. TAGGING. Yeet

BASICS.

FULL NAME: MV Boli Dingbat

NICKNAME:  Bo

AGE: It’s really hard to gauge but lets just call it mid-twenties, but she’s been alive for much much longer.

BIRTHDAY: It honestly has changed like.  100 times?  Currently it’s February 18th.

ETHNIC GROUP: Skeleton monster.

NATIONALITY: Undergroundian

LANGUAGE(S): English, Dingbats.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Demisexual

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Demiromantic

RELATIONSHIP STATUS:  Technically this is verse dependent but her main verse squeeze is an absolute meme.

CLASS: Prodigiously lower-class.

HOMETOWN / AREA: She doesn’t remember what it was called.  She lived near the Capital, Maybe in Hotland?  She doesn’t remember much before Vertebral Heights.

CURRENT HOME: Vertebral Heights, a city with a dwindling skeleton population.

PROFESSION: Unemployed with no benefits!

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: That would be weird.

EYES: White most of the time, sometimes they’re ooky spooky green/teal.

NOSE:  Set nose to NO.

FACE:  Bean-shaped.

LIPS:  No thanks.

COMPLEXION: Bo has kinda yellower, slightly off color bones from lack of light and access to bone polish. 

BLEMISHES: She has a sternal foramen, a genetic abnormality. 

SCARS: None

Tattoos: How?

HEIGHT:  5'5″

WEIGHT:  Like.  12 Pounds?

BUILD: She’s very slim.  If her bones had flesh on them there wouldn’t be that much of a change in physique.

FEATURES:  No flesh.

ALLERGIES: Hard to have allergies without lungs, blood, or organs.

USUAL HAIRSTYLE: ???

USUAL FACE LOOK: A relaxed and placid smile, eyes wide but also very tired looking.

USUAL CLOTHING: She has one pair of dark jeans that she wears and a variety of t shirts, most of which are black or have funny sayings on them.  She usually wears a green flannel shirt tied around her waist.  She never wears shoes, and always wears a black stocking-hat beanie.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR(S): Losing her friends/family and being completely alone.

ASPIRATION(S) : Learning how to use her magic and her other skills to the best ability that she can to protect people and solve problems.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Clever, friendly, creative, intelligent, compassionate.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Depressed, mildly nihilistic, no regard for personal care or safety, anti-authoritarian (not really a BAD trait but it hasn’t gotten her anywhere)

ZODIAC: Aquarius!

TEMPERAMENT: Generally, she’s very good natured and friendly.

SOUL TYPE(S):  Monster Soul, her ‘trait’ is Idiosyncrasy.

ANIMALS:  If she were an animal she’s probably be something rat a possum or a rat.  

VICE  HABIT(S): She does them botha lot less, but she used to drink to excess and smoke a lot.  But since taking in Lark and becoming happier with her life, she’s cut down on those habits a lot.  She still drinks on occasion (to have fun more than to drown her sorrows) and she still smokes when she’s really stressed/overworked.

FAITH: It comes and goes.

GHOSTS?: They’re lovely.

AFTERLIFE?: It happens for some people.

REINCARNATION?: Yes, she knows it can be done.

ALIENS?: God, she hopes so.

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: Anarchist???????

ECONOMIC  PREFERENCE: Money would be cool.

SOCIOPOLITICAL POSITION: Pro environment and pro-monster rights.  Anti-Capitalist.

EDUCATION LEVEL: Uhhh the 4th Grade???  She stopped after her parents vanished.  Had a lot of advanced education from her parents as supplement to her education.

FAMILY.

FATHER: Dr. Zapfino Dingbat ✝️

MOTHER: Dr. Lucida Dingbat ✝️

SIBLINGS: Cooper Dingbat ✝️

EXTENDED FAMILY:  She has an adopted child, Lark, who she’s had for about two years.

NAME MEANING(S): It’s a font, chosen from a big book of 5000 fonts based on what an old skeleton said she should be named.  I dunno, the lore is fuzzy.

HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: Her parents were a part of an initiative during the war that took human bodies and turned them into monster warriors via skeleton resurrection.  It was semi-successful.

FAVORITES.

BOOK: Bo doesn’t have a favorite, but she does have a pretty sizable collection of do-it-yourself books on a variety of subjects, as well as a few music books, and a very well-read book on plumbing.

MOVIE: Can’t recall ever seeing one?  Lmao she’s only ever had radios.

5 SONGS: Thrift Shop, Planetary Go, Seashore, Love Like You, and Polka Covers or literally any song ever made.

DEITY: Johannes Gutenberg, creator of fonts and typeface.  But that’s mostly a joke.  

HOLIDAY: All holidays are just variation of the prime holiday... H A L L O W E E N.

MONTH:  They all seem to be the same for her.

SEASON: Fall or Winter, probably.  

PLACE: Cities and Caves.

WEATHER: Overcast and on the cool side.

SOUND: The accordion, harmonica (most instruments, really)  the sound of certain people’s laughter, the sound of a dry erase marker on a white board.

SCENT(S):  Brass, pine trees, hospital antispetic, food cooking, weirdly, trash.

TASTE(S): Soy sauce, vegetable broth, white rice.

FEEL(S):  Cool metal, small clicking buttons, flannel,

ANIMAL(S): Rats, Possums, Mice, Raccoons, Badgers, pretty much anything that’s kinda... Scrappy.

NUMBER: 11.  I wrote 11 last year and I still don’t know why.  Why 11.

COLORS: Green!

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Figuring out and playing instruments, reverse engineering machinery, rock climbing, singing, somehow turning all food she cooks into fried rice.

BAD AT:  Cooking anything that isn’t fried rice, public speaking/singing, believing in herself.

HOBBIES: Tinkering with instruments and appliances, learning new shit, pestering her loved ones, exploring caves.

TROPES:  Satisfied Street Rat, Always Save The Boy, Family of Choice, Undead Barefooter, Wrench Wench

AESTHETIC TAGS:  #cities, #green, #neon, #abandoned

GPOY  QUOTES: My only crime is that I was down to clown.

FC INFO.

MAIN  FC(S): None, I just draw her.

ALT FC(S): Seriously, I just draw her.

OLDER FC(S): Seriously-

YOUNGER  FC(S): sTOP

VOICE CLAIM(S): I’ve been at war with what she sounds like for what feels like eons.  I’m currently on a kick with Sara Gilbert, but I think Bo would be way less monotone than Sara.  I dunno, I usually just think of my own voice with a slightly different accent and inflection. 

GENDERBENT FC(S): 

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1: if you could write your character your way in their own movie, what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?:  It’s an absurd comedy.  Stephen Chow is directing it.  There are ridiculous fight scenes and cult-classic humor.  It has absurd montages and weirdly placed rock ballad musical numbers.  It’s honestly not very good.

Q2: what would their soundtrack / score sound like?:  Bo’s sountrack is all 8-bit chiptune music, kazoo covers, polka remixes, and hard rock.

Q3: why did you start writing this character?: I started in 2015, took a big break, picked her up again in 2018, took a smaller break, picked her up again here in the tail end of 2019.

Q4: what first attracted you to this character?:  I loved Undertale and Skeletons.  Wanted to make a skelesona, loved to rp, decided to mix the two, got rid of the ‘sona’ part and here we are.

Q5: describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse:  I wrote this last year and it’s still true, She can be a little inconsistent depending on who I’m writing with.  She changes a lot, writing partner/muse to muse.  Also I don’t ever want to make her as depressed as I’ve written her in the past.

Q6: what do you have in common with your muse?: Too many things honestly, Bo started as a self inset.  We’re pretty different now, but we dress the same.  The biggest one is one I’m trying to dial back on, which is the mental illness.

Q8: what characters does your muse have interesting interactions with?: I’ve branched out even LESS that the last time I filled this out.  Currently it’s just.  Tumblr user bonepranks.

Q9: what gives you inspiration to write your muse?:  Listening to fight-y music, watching Undertale comic dubs, talking about her to people.

Q10: how long did this take you to complete?:  Eh, not that long.  Most of this was filled out already.