#the parent is behind them and the kid is just. leashed.

[oasisofgalaxies]

i love being outperformed by small children, its one of my many joys seeing kids barely half my height taking a turn onto a black diamond from a green when im skiing- like fuck yeah go kid im so proud of you <333

[tamayakii]

Fathers Love

notes: honestly i went in so hard without a plan this kinda fell through so I'm so sorry if it sucked, i wrote this in like, an hour with no beta reader or breaks. Sorry homies, this is all u get until i get more inspo <3 tags: @inuyasha330 warnings: angst, daddy daughter angsty, the way i was tempted to make this emotionally incesty but i DIDNT- thank me for that. anyways, dives over the pier.

The atmosphere felt thick around you, sitting in an unfamiliar environment. Your only comfort was your older brother but even then he felt distant, you saw the stars of the galaxy and more; you saw things that amazed you. 

“So this is what I missed out on?” whispering to him, when you had gotten your powers he had offered you a trip through the stars but you had rejected it; terrified of the powers granted to you through your DNA. 

Days before the incident in Chicago, your father had forced you to get a superhero suit when he found out that you too were blessed with the viltrumite powers, promising that he too would train you as he did Mark but; that no matter what you were still his little girl. 

You were always his little girl, when you came into this world Nolan had shed the first tears he ever would shed; he was so fearsomely protective of you. Never letting you go out alone, finally seeing the purpose of the backpack leashes marketed towards parents, always always kept you close to him. Growing up he was your hero, he was your everything. 

Now the suit feels uncomfortably tight with the memory of his words when he saw it on you for the first time, “just like me” he said, back then it was a compliment but now it was your fear.

“Yeah.. it’s amazing. Isn’t it?” Mark replied in turn, looking at you. There’s a pause before he puts his hand on your shoulder, “it’s gonna be okay.” he answers, you want to believe him. You wanted to but your gut told you otherwise but you stifled it. “I hope so.” 

The rest of the flight passed by quickly, with sleeping and eating orange-coloured goo there wasn’t much else to do besides daydream. After a while; all the stars looked the same, passing you by like blurs. 

You wondered about where your father went, leaving Chicago a mess, beating your brother to near death- Leaving the world without a word to you or your mother. How many stars away was he? You were left no time to wonder before Nuolzot announced your arrival, waking your brother up. 

The skies were pink turning into blue, and purple buildings and large arches decorated the sandy planet. The spaceship hummed as it slowly landed, a horde of blue bug people awaited your arrival. 

Cautiously you followed Mark, so close that you were practically his shadow. While he stared in wonderment, you looked for the meteor showers that were supposedly destroying the planet, but there was no sign of them. Only clear skies, no orange fiery balls of death. You held onto Mark's forearm, your gut twisting as Nuolzot took you further from the ship. 

“Wait, what exactly about this planet needs saving? Where are the meteors?” Mark questions, you let out a small breath. So he noticed too, you stared at the alien from behind Mark. Face twisting when he answers, forgetting about his own planet's demise that he had cried out about in your backyard before finding your brother at college.

Mark stopped, “The ones that kill billions?” He questions slowly. Stepping in a way that covered you from Nuolzot, as if he was gonna attack as an answer to Mark. But only to leave you two in confusion about his answer, 

“The Monarch will explain all.” You begin to wonder who the Monarch was, what it was. Was there no one else to help this planet? Why come all this way when there must be nearby planets that could help? 

“Your Majesty!!” The alien calls out, pulling you out of your thoughts, “May I present, Invincible and His sibling, Of Earth!” You and Mark stammer before bowing, figuring it was the most respectful thing to do. 

“Hello, Kids.” Shock runs through you like a viper, making your heart drop and your limbs go numb. “It’s been a while.” Your bottom lip quivers and you look up- Dad. There he is, tears fill your lash line as you rack your head for answers, 

“Dad?” Marks voice sounds like the wind, moving farther away. Your brows further, shaking your head as you watch Mark approach him. Memories of childhood and happiness flood through you like a dam broken, the love for your father washes over you before something else hits you. Anger, Despair, Sadness. 

It was like looking the devil in the eye, the same one that had killed thousands. Your fists clench as you step back, lowering your head as you gaze at him through your eyelashes. Body quivering with the amount of power it takes to not scream at him, to hit him, to ask him why he ruined everything. 

And Mark hugs him. He fucking hugs him. It’s like a knife in your heart, biting your lip so hard you taste the iron in your blood. The longer their embrace goes, the longer your heart squeezes. Emotions wrap around you like an old friend amidst the eye of a hurricane, words become distant as you remember all of the pain he put you through, put your mother. Your brother. 

You’re brought back to reality when Marks hand touches your shoulder, Nolans eyes catching yours making you flinch from his gaze. “Guess they don’t know you like we do… Fuck you.” Thats the last word your brother says before he takes off, for a few seconds you look back at him. The man that is your father, he goes to reach out; mouth opening and you take off just like Mark. Catching up to him, tears being blown away by the harsh oncoming wind.

But despite all that, he catches up to you; “you’ll never make it home on your own!” You speed up, leaving Mark and Nolan behind. You wanted your silence to hurt him, to cut him deeper than he cut you but it wasn’t possible because he made a hole in your heart. 

Mark catches back up to you and Nolan follows again, bargaining with Mark. Promising a ship back home, that Nuolzot wasn’t lying. That they do need help. You let out a yell of frustration; can’t they leave you alone? If you had to fly back to earth on your own you will.

You keep flying, even when Mark doesn’t follow anymore. You keep going until you feel your body adjust to the lack of oxygen, till your tears float in the endless void of space.

“Wait! Wait up!” You stop at your brother's voice, lips quivering. “Please. Wait.”

“Look.. just five minutes-” He bargains “What?! No! Absolutely not! I- No! Are you insane?!” You push him away, but he floats back, angering you more. He grabs your forearms, 

“Just five minutes is all. Is there is actual trouble; then we’ll help them out. If not, we can leave. It’s just five minutes.” Mark explains, his dark eyes are wide and begging. 

“..fine. But i’m not saying anything to him.” Mark nodded, before pressing his forehead against yours. “That’s okay,” he answers gently before flying with you beside him. 

“Five minutes.” Mark orders, Nolan looks at you but you don’t look at him,

 “don’t you wanna say anything to me?” Nolan asks- arms out in defeat. He expected this, expected hatred, expected yelling or anything. Anything but silence. He hated silence. Especially from his little girl, that hurt him the most.  Both you and Mark flew down to the civilization in response, following Nolan through the building. Mark and him made small talk- more like argued. 

You spaced out, trying to bide back the pain that holds you tight, you look up to see another bug alien approach your father and kiss him. Your mouth flies open; Words are exchanged but they’re tuned out. 

Seconds feel like hours, Nolan walks to a crib and realisation hits you hard. You feel sick, he made a new family. You’ve been replaced. You’re not his little girl anymore, you were nothing to him. Bile rises through your throat, 

“I’m gonna be sick” You shout, turning and sprinting out the door to barf into a potted plant, Mark storms out afterwards and Nolan goes chasing, his bug mate as well. “Oh dear- are you okay?” She asks, holding the baby in one arm and the other rubbing your back. You feel bad, normally you would be thankful for any pity when you barf but now her touch makes you wanna scream. Shrugging her off, you sneer at her before storming off as well. 

You see your father and brother, rage making you see red. “What I did on Earth was..” Your fist connects with Nolans jaw as he speaks but it only makes him stumble a bit. 

“Fuck you! Just fuck you!! You get to come to earth and make a family- make us love you as if you loved us and then you fuck off to make a new one!?” You cry out, your voice breaking from the strain on your vocal cords. Nolan rubs his jaw, his eyes hold anything but anger, but youre blind to it. 

“Please... It’s not what you think.” He pleads, holding his hands out. You slap them away and push him, 

“You put me into this fucked up world! You promised me you’d never leave me and look what you did! You left me! You almost killed Mark! Mom cries every night and i don’t know what to do with myself!” You hit his chest, “you said i was your little girl but you left and made a new family like we were nothing! Well fuck you!” You hit his chest over and over again, to no avail. 

“Please. Listen.” He grabs your wrists, “You have to listen. You and your brother need to help these people; if not, viltrumite will kill them. They already know i left my post.” Tears roll down your cheeks,  and you lean your head back and thrust into his nose. 

“Post!? We were just some fucking post to you!? Why do you care about them? Why not us? What about me!?” Headbutting him made no difference, you struggle in his grip. The sight of his babygirl crying broke him; he was supposed to protect you and all he did was hurt you.

“Look i.. I needed you and your brothers' help. They’re good people. We need to save them” 

“What about me dad? What about me? Where were you when i needed saving?” your words fall more gently, and you press your forehead on his chest. You wanted to be his little girl again; giggling in his arms as he swung you around.

“I promise, we can talk about all of this soon. But you have to help me save these people.” 

And like the little girl who did anything for her daddy's approval, you caved. You hung onto that promise, not realizing that he wouldn’t be able to keep it but for now, it comforted you, warm like your father's love.

[ifangirlalot]

˗ˏˋ 𝐒𝐀𝐔𝐂𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐒𝐒 2ˎˊ˗ | starring the fellas

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

~smut!~ [𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘:] too many to pick out, just a shit ton of nsfw shit.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

✧˚ mike ۫ ׅ ✧

Is he a top or bottom? Mike is a perfect even split between sub and dom. He's kind of a pussy, so don't expect any hardcore shit when he's on top. But like?? He expects?? Rough treatment?? When he's the sub?? Lmao, what a hypocrite.

What are his favorite positions? Sub Mike likes to be ridden while being tied down, it gives him a good view. Dom Mike also likes to be ridden, except this time your hands are the ones tied, behind your back, and he has the tail like a leash and he can pull it to make your back arch, thus putting boobs in his face. So he can *blublublublublub* all in them mfs.

How freaky is he? Depends on the day and the mood. Sometimes Mike can be quite adventurous. He can wanna fuck in the bathroom or the janitors' closet at school, but he can also pussy out and just wait until you get home and just fuck in the basement or in his bedroom. He can wanna be teased and edged, or he can just give you a quick pound and that's that. And then sometimes, he'll want to experiment with new kinks and then sometimes, he wants to be boring and basic.

How noisy is he? Mike is a whimperer and a whiner. So, he's pretty noisy most of the time.

How long does he usually last? Usually right at twenty minutes.

Protection or no? Are you kidding? His parents would kill him if he got you pregnant, of course he uses protection.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

✧˚ trevor ۫ ׅ ✧

Is he a top or bottom? Trevor is a top. He did genuinely try to be a bottom once, but being called a "good boy" just made him feel like a dog.

What are his favorite positions? Doggy, but specifically over the Ectomobile hood. He likes the idea of driving it and thinking Yo, I fucked her on this thing. Even if he does get a hard-on in the middle of the road because of it.

How freaky is he? Moderately freaky. I mean, he's not looking to call you a bunch of names or beat the fuck out of you for pleasure, but he's down with some car sex in a parking lot, and for the occasional spank to your ass, and also for some teasing with sex toys. How noisy is he? He's more of a heavy breather, but occasionally you'll slide across a vein on his dick that he's sensitive about that gets a moan out of him. How long does he last? Somewhere in twenty-five-to-thirty-minute range. Sometimes it's longer, sometimes it's shorter. Protection or no? Yeah. His car floor is like covered in condom wrappers, it's kind of funny because he doesn't clean his car and he drives Phoebe and Podcast to school sometimes and they're like "?? The fuck??" ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

✧˚ richie ۫ ׅ ✧

Is he a top or a bottom? Both, but he thinks he's way more of a top than he actually is. Which is a lie. Richie Tozier is your bitch. Period. What are his favorite positions? All of them. He can't pick a favorite. He likes reverse cowgirl, because ass. He likes being rode, because boobs. He likes going down on you, because he likes to see your face contort in pleasure. Yeah, any position you do he can find a reason to love it. How freaky is he? He's freaky, but a lot less than you'd think. He does have his limits. One of them is that he refuses physical violence. He'll degrade you all you want, but he won't lay a finger on you in a negative away, no matter how much you beg. How noisy is he? It's Richie- when the fuck is he ever quiet? He's noisy, he's loud, and he's not ashamed of it. He wants everyone to know that he's getting laid. How long does he last? Eh. Fifteen minutes or so. He makes it count, though.

Protection or no? He's like Boris in the way that he sometimes he does forget, but that's alright, you're on the pill anyways. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

Come with me on this journey okay:

-Stay-at-home-wheelchair-Dad Jake Sully babysits literally all children. His own, whatever fosters Norm has at the time, Tonowari’s, and Tsu’sey and Sylwanin’s. He is the babysitting and parenting God. 

-When they’re really rowdy he puts them all on leashes and has them pull him around the street yelling “MUSH, MUSH!”

-Eytukan is retired, so he helps Mo’at run her free clinic. Jake spends like all his free time there, “helping out” with his hoard of children. It’s really just a nice open area for the kids to play in, big fields and equipment in clear view while Jake helps with physical therapy.

-The clinic is where he and Neytiri met, he didn’t have the money for treatment on vet benefits after he was paralyzed in the marines so he ended up at the free clinic. Neytiri volunteers for her mother on the weekends, and she bullied him into enjoying life again. 

-Sylwanin and Jake are pretend frenemies, she pretends to hate him because he stole her little sister AND managed to get married and have kids before her and Tsu’tey who have been dating for like, their entire lives. Jake says it’s because they have yet to be blown up, and he can help her with that. 

-Every time Jake wheels his way in with all the kids Sylwanin goes “Oh, it’s you,” and Jake says “Yeah yeah, just your brother in law, not like I should get any respect around here,” and then he hands her her exact Starbucks order and offers to have Lo’ak throw up on her most hated patient. 

-(when he was little Lo’ak could throw up on command)

-Sylwanin loves all her nieces and nephews equally but she especially enjoys Spider, because before he was adopted he was in the clinic fairly often for suspicious injuries. She hasn’t shaken the urge to watch him like a hawk yet. 

-Eytukan and Jake are Boys in a way that disgusts all the women in their family. They go golfing together, and Eytukan accuses Jake of cheating via proximity to the ground.

-Lo’ak was DETERMINED to golf with them for years and when they actually let him come he cried he got so bored.

-Neteyam would never admit this under pain of death, but he enjoys golfing. 

-Spider, Neteyam, Ao’nung, and Lo’ak are all deeply obsessed with American Ninja Warrior, so Tonowari, Jake, and Tsu’tey built a course for them. They then started to get a little into it and it got serious. To this day out of everyone they know Jake is the only one to have completed the salmon ladder, and then he hauled himself off the mat and back into his chair and Tonowari and Tsu’tey had to reconsider their sexualities. 

-When Kiri, Lo’ak, Neteyam, Spider, and Ao’nung were all babies Jake went to the store with them all strapped to him or in a basket on his wheelchair and someone called the cops cause they thought he stole all those varying ethnicity babies. 

-Jake calls it The Great Baby Heist of 2077 and Tsu’tey always responds to this story by asking what idiot would want that many babies?

-Sometimes Sylwanin gets too friendly with Jake and quickly pretends to get mad at him. 

-Tonowari and Tsu’tey became friends by both being confused as hell by their friend Jake. When they met him he was all depressed and rotting away alone in the free clinic. Now he’s so high energy he raced Lo’ak once and threw himself out of his chair to get extra momentum to beat Lo’ak over the arbitrary finish line. He had a pool installed for Kiri to just float in and stare at the sky. He bakes cookies with Tsireya balanced on his chair between his legs so he can help her crack the eggs. He beat Tsu’tey in a wrestling match in the gym the other day. His enthusiasm for life scares them, they spend a lot of time side eyeing each other behind him. 

-Sylwanin (secretly) likes Jake because he’s a good father and husband to her kids, and he’s funny and a good person, but she likes him even more for the energy he brings out in her husband. Tsu’tey is NOT GOOD at making friends, he’s awkward and he’s a weirdo. But now he plays tennis twice a week with Jake, Norm, and Tonowari and spends like every evening she has to work at the Sully house for dinner. 

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Parentalbond Killer

Okay I am back at it again! Thanks to @spotaus for the original prompt :D

This was the next one I wanted to write about the gang all bonding with Nightmare and separatly growing into their new roles as caretakers/parents. (Nightmare is no doing this on purpose. He is even more surprised than the gang members are)

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Lets see... As always, unbeta'ed and uneditied. We are hanging out and having fun!

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Killer grumbles as he sits on the bench. Trying to ignore the looks thrown his way as parents pull their children away from him.

Which, good! Don't come near him or try to get friendly. He isn't in the mood.

Killer glances around the small park he and Nightmare are in now. And idea from Horror, he figured it would be good for Nightmare to do actual child things which includes going to a park to play and interact wiht others.

Dust, the hovering and motherhenning bastard, had nodded and agreed easily. Until it became obvious that it wouldn't be him that would take Nightmare to the park.

Killer is still not quite sure what caused this... weird thing that Dust got going on. It isn't as if he acts differently, he is still Dust! He is just... Killer doens't know.

Anyway. Dust had been needed to help shadow people for intel. Killer huffs as he crosses hsi arms, he could have gone that just fine.

Horror and Cross however are looking for a magical hotspot to recharge their crystals. Cross could use his knife to cut between dimensions but his power is much more obvious than the crystals and leaves traces.

They pretty much did rock paper scissor to see who would stay with Nightmare. Nightmare hadn't looked like he cared but Dust had looked annoyed at their entics.

Look. Just because Dust was flourishing with taking care of a babybones for some reason meant that they all were!

Killer sighs as his sight easily finds Nightmare. Nightmare is just sitting in the shadw of a tree as he reads his book. Killer isn't surprised. Nightmare isn't exactly the most social babybones, he wasn't either when he was still in his adult form.

All that happened was that Nightmare is now more anxious and shy. Which, fitting for a kid even if Killer keeps getting surprised by it.

He leans back against the bench and jsut closes his sockets for a bit. At least Ngihtmare wasn't trying to run off all the time anymore. That is helpful. Seems that whatever caused Dust to be chill about watching a babybones also caused Nightmare to grow more comfortable with just being near them.

Which is fantastic! Killer had been half convinced Ngihtmare would never forgive them for their betrayal and that they would have had to get him a child leash.

Heh. Maybe still a fun idea to offer.

Killer snorts and chuckles as he imagines the insulted look on tiny boss' face. He would be so mad!

"Well hello there tiny one. What are you reading?"

Killer can't help but focus on the voice... something about it sounds off.

Nightmare's voice is much softer and harder to hear in the crowd but Killer is by now used to picking his voice out.

"... my book..."

A hum "I see. Is it interesting?"

Nightmare gives a non-commiting hum but not much more.

A chuckle "Not much of a talker are you? That is alright. Kids should know when to be quiet after all."

Multiple red flags and alarm bells. Killer's sockets snap open and he looks right back at where Nightmare was. He is still in his spot and he is holding his book close, a larger figure standing close.

Too. Close.

Killer growls as he jumps up from his spot and sprints over.

The other figure reaches for Nightmare but Killer is faster and Killer hits them with a kick right to the head to get them away.

Killer pants as he stands between Nightmare and the grounded being, a human by the looks of it.

Killer feels Nightmare grab his shirt and hide behind him. Good.

Killer puts a hand on top of Nightmare's skull for a moment before finding his shoulder and pushing him closer to his side. His sockets never leaving his target on the ground.

The human looks up annoyed before slight worry goes over their face goes back to annoyance "What was that for?!" they stand up and brush themselves off.

Killer hears other people mumble around them and Nightmare starts to shake under his hand. Killer just holds him closer as he rubs his back. Glaring at the human.

"What was that far?! Why the hell were you getting so close to my babybones?!" Killer hisses as he keeps Nightmare close. Staring the disgusting piece of shit down that tried to get near Nightmare.

The adult looks between Killer and Nightmare with a deep frown "I didn't realise you were his parent. I figured he was alone and was trying to find out where to find his parents." the human stands up and brushes off the dirt on him.

Killer just continues to glare.

The human huffs "Well? apologise."

Killer smirks "Why should I? You were preying on a child." and the only reason that disgusting human isn't dead yet is because there are too many witnesses and Killer doesn't know if the others are done with their job yet. They are trying to stay low profile.

The human gasps "I would never! I can't believe you just said that!"

Killer huffs as he dismisses the useless waste of space as he turns and picks Nightmare up. His soul finally calms down when it feels Nightmare close and safe against Killer and Killer's soul. It should have been uncomfortable but it is surprisingly nice. The way that Nightmare is warm and tiny and perfect to be held.

Okay. Maybe Killer kinda gets now why Dust seems to take personal offence to the idea of putting Nightmare back on the ground.

Killer walks away and is halfway across the park when a hand reaches for him. Killer turns and has his knife out and a snarl on his face in seconds.

The human, a new one, pulls their arm back and holds their hands up in surrender "right! I am sorry. I should have realised that youwould still be tense after... that." they look back at the other human, who is now surrounded by others, before looking back at him with a smile "My dad owns the ice cream store near here. I am sure he will be happy to offer you two a treat to calm down and relax after what just happened."

Killer frowns as he still feels the lightly shaking form of Nightmare in his arms "As... nice as that is... He is stressed and I don't think being around others will help him with that... Ice crema stores tend to be busy." especially as it is summer in this universe.

The human smiles "I will make sure it is empty! Give you two room to relax! If you don't like it you are obivously welcome to go. I just..." they rub their arm "I am sorry I didn't help. I saw it happen and was frozen and stuck on how i should act or behave. What I could do and what was... appropriate for me to do. You just. did whatever was needed!" they smile.

Killer looks at the human as if they are crazy. He shoots Nightmare a look and Nightmare looks just as shocked, through his own still slightly shaky state. Killer raises a brow at him and nods towards the human "What do you think tiny boss? Want ice cream?"

Nightmare pulls a face at his new nickname but gives ashrug as reply.

Okay yeah Killer will assume that means 'yes but i don't want to admit it because wanting things in the past always got me hurt.'

....

Killer is not at all projecting.

Killer nods and not much later finds himself in an empty ice cream store. the human having spoken to an older human, their father, and the grumpy old man just listened before nodding and changing the sign from open to closed.

A lot of taste testing later and they settled on a very sweet sunday of some kind. Some very sweet strawberry mouse kinda thing with white chocolate sauce with blueberries on top.

Killer honestly hadn't expected that but maybe he should have. Back in the castle Nightmare had always drunk his coffee with a lot of cream and sugar cubes. Killer snorts as he watches Nightmare enjoy the treat and slowly relax.

The old grumby owner stands by him "Well? what do you want?"

Killer blinks as he looks over "Oh. It is fine." he shrugs "Only got enough gold with me for his treat." Killer goes back to making sure Nightmare doesn't inhale something in his rush.

The human huffs "None of that. Parents who do the right thing and protect their children deserve a treat as well, what do you want."

It takes a moment for Killer to realise what the other said "Woh! wait! He isn't mine. Well. not technically. I am just watching him for friends!"

The human just raises a brow "Doesn't make your action any less worth. What do you want?"

Killer rubs his neck "Look I can get very specific and weird with my orders. It is fine..." low profile. low profile. You were the one who told everyone to keep a low profile. stick to it yourself.

the human does not look convinced and just waits.

Killer then grins "okay fine. I would love a hot white chocolate milk with cherry syrup." and he waits for the normal disgusted look his order gets. Grinning widely.

The man just nods "Easy enough. You heard that Lass?"

the other human, Lass, nods "Got it!" and they move around the counter.

Killer blinks "But it is weird?"

The human huffs and grins "Kid it is hardly the weirdest thing I have heard in my life." he looks at Ngihtmare "Is the ice cream good?"

Ngithmare freezes at the attention and shoots Killer a glace, relaxes a bit to see him, before looking back at the human and nodding. It takes amoment before Nightmare speaks "It is good... thank you?" it sounds more like a question than anything but Killer will count it! Their little Nightmare may be grumpy but he has manners!

The older human huffs and has a smile on his face "Good to hear. You two take your time." which is when Lass gets to them with Killer's drink before both humans leave to do stuff by the counter and back.

Killer watches them before leaning close to Nightmare "You good? Food actually okay and not bothering you?"

Ngihtmare shrugs as he eats another bite.

Killer grins "Come on tiny boss. Gotta use words or I will just keep talking and tlaking and talking-"

Nightmare groans and shoots him a glare. There is his grumpy buddy! Nightmare turns back to his treat before answering "It is good... Teeth hurt a tiny bit still..."

Killer nods with a frown "Probably still sensitive. We will have to look out for it..." make sure to keep his teeth healthy. Horror hadn't seen anything wrong with his teeth before and it may just be sensitive but they will have to make sure it doesn't get worse.

Killer takes his drink and sips it. Oh god it is so good! It is warm and soft and sweet and holy shit they but a full scoop of ice cream in there?! Amazing.

Killer purrs loudly as he drinks his drink. Loud enough to cause Nightmare to snort and look at him amused. Killer grins back and nudges Nightmare "Eat your own ice cream. this hot chocolate it mine." Most shops don't even try to make it good but this is sooooooo goooooooood!

Nightmare nods and eats his ice cream. Looking content and actually relaxed.

Killer... Killer feels warm and content. Just making sure the other is okay.

He for now is just going to ignore these changes and thoughts. They don't matter too much in the grand scheme of things. Nothing changes after all. Just that he may actually get why Dust wants to look after Nightmare so much.

Well! Guess Dusty is going to have to learn how to share!

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[gffa]

Dick sneaks out to chase down a case about missing girls that Batman and Robin have been working on, ending up solving the case and freeing the girls by himself, while Alfred frets with worry about how Dick's putting himself in danger and throwing away his youth on this crusade and how he puts so much on his young shoulders. And now I'm thinking about just how many times I've seen Alfred step in and steer Bruce towards a gentler demeanor when dealing with Dick's determination to go down this path's crusade. How often we talk about Bruce could not have stopped him from it, that Robin was a leash on the kid, rather than putting Dick in harm's way for his own need to fight criminals--but the same is true of Alfred. He watches that kid, he worries about him, he's afraid that Dick is throwing away the years of his youth on this fight and if he'll regret, he never relaxes because he knows Dick's two seconds away from sneaking out to go fight people grown adults who are legitimately trying to kill him. But Alfred also sees the same thing Bruce does--that they're not going to stop someone that determined. And Alfred sees even further than Bruce does sometimes, in that Dick's desperate to prove to Bruce that he can be trusted to do this job, to justify the trust Bruce has placed in him, and that Bruce needs to gentle himself with the kid, even when he's terrified that Dick could have gotten himself hurt. Yeah, Dick put himself in danger without Batman there to watch over him, but he did it for the same reason that Bruce started this path, too. That Bruce didn't put that spark of angry need for justice in that kid, Dick came by that all on his own, the night his parents were murdered, and neither Bruce nor Alfred were pulling him into something that he didn't want, they were instead giving him shape and form to channel that need. Alfred has never liked this choice of theirs, to dress up in costumes and go punch criminals in the face, but he doesn't stand by out of passivity, but instead because he recognizes that Dick was going to do something and this was the best he could do to help shape the kid into something that would survive it. Including stepping in to help him behind Bruce's back or straight up saying, "Yeah, I helped him and you are going to be gentle with him, because that kid is desperately trying to prove himself to you and you're the only stability he has and you of all people should know what he's feeling about needing to help people." Alfred can't force either of them into a life that he would prefer for them, he can only help provide guard rails on the roads they've chosen, but what a difference that has made for them both. I love Bruce and Dick's relationship, I love it because the question of, "Where do you take a character who fights crime because of the trauma of his lost parents?" has a fascinating answer in, "You have him--step by painful step--grow into being a parent himself, learning to open himself up to being gentle with people he loves and fears losing, to learn to trust those he loves even though they might die." and, when Dick's own losses are mirrored in Bruce's, driving the parallels home even further, it's so important for Bruce to learn to be a father to this kid, as his own father figure nudges him back onto the right path. Alfred is such an important part of that character arc for both of these characters, he is part of the thematic bridge of parents and children that runs through the Batman family of stories, and his role of guiding Bruce into being a better father--to heal from the loss of Thomas and Martha Wayne who should have been there to guide him--by telling him, in the most British gentleman way possible, to look the fuck around and see what's going through that kid.

[quitealotofsodapop]

I imagine that MK sneaking off with the staff to fight demons becomes a habit for the foreseeable future. He keeps giving everyone, but especially his father, heart attacks.

Wukong openly laments that this is his karma for all the reckless crap he pulled in his youth. DBK just laughs at him.

Wukong keeps buying/making (with his hair) stronger and more secure kid leashes but they never work. MK somehow always manages to find a way out of them when no one is looking.

That’s how he meets Macaque. I imagine that, like in the show, he mistakes him for his Baba and goes in for a hug. An act that surprises Macaque for more than one reason. I mean, here he is, in human disguise, searching for and investigating this mysterious Monkie Kid but said kid finds him instead and hugs him from behind. I like to think this is one of MK first instances of using Gold Vision which is how he saw right through Mac’s disguise and thought he was Wukong.

Wukong is facing the karma of having his own mini-Wukong. XD

DBK and PIF laugh at his misfortune - they gave up on leashes with baby Red when he started melting through iron chains.

I mentioned in a previous post how Wukong and MK meet Macaque at the grocery store, but I can still see MK and Mac having an encounter like in the "Macaque" episode.

MK is just *so excited* to possibly seeing his baba do "superhero work" that he does even stop to consider what glamoured macaque demon is standing atop Pigsy's roof. MK just yells "BABA!" and grabs who he thinks is Wukong into a big little-kid hug.

Macaque is surprised, confused, and after a few seconds adoring.

MK realises his mistake seconds later and backs up embarassed/startled and chirping. If you've ever seen a video of a baby monkey accidentally hug who they thought was their mother, and freak out when they realise it's an unrelated troop member, its like that.

MK then smiles happily at finally seeing Mr Liu'er again! He rambles about how Baba doesn't like him running off to fight monsters or use the staff, so he thanks Mr Liu'er lots for dealing with the big smoke monster! He looked so cool!

Macaque was just using his smoke avatar to lure out *something* so that he could get a good listen on what "The Monkie Kid" or Wukong was up to. He didn't plan on the little sage to run towards him like he was their parent and start complimenting him on how he fought.

Macaque sweats nervously. He's going need to think of a better way to confront Wukong, his kid is way to cute to steal power from (maybe).

[skunkox]

Dad Sam? Dad Sam.

What if like, in the future, Sam and Darlin' adopt a kid? Or kids rather. 2 siblings. Let's say a 10 and 3 year old.

The youngest is afraid of them, and the oldest is afraid of starting over. Gonna call them Thing 1 and Thing 2 cause there's no way they get raised in the with the pack as extended family and not grow into being hell raisers.

Sam is extremely awkward with the kids. Darlin pretended as if this was an average day, trying to figure out what peeked their interest. Thing 1 was the only one willing to speak directly to them, and always with short responses.

Thing 2 was the first to start warming up to them. It actually happened pretty quickly. Thing 2 was having trouble sleeping. Sam and Darlin were cuddling on the couch. Darlin goes to get snacks, but when they come back, their spot was taken by a sleeping Thing 2. They now new the magic of sleeping on Sam. Darlin was but a lil butt hurt.

Thing 1 had been eyeing Darlin's old skateboard. Wouldn't touch, but often was caught giving it a look over. That was enough for Darlin to drag then to the skate shop. They practice after after school and on weekends.

It surprisingly took seeing Darlin shifted for the first time a whole month after their adoption for Thing 2 to speak to them. They never stopped. Turns out the lil shit really likes animals. But only the ones that are extremely dangerous to be around. Thing 2 has to be put on a kiddy leash at parks and zoos.

The kids may or may not have been witnesses to Darlin fighting. Maybe Thing 1 thinks they can be just like them. No. Sam full heartedly disagrees. Had to have a sit down about throwing themselves into dangerous situations and recklessly. Explained that its a miricle Darlin can still walk. Sams not stupid. He knows this wouldn't be the only time the kids would find themselves in any sorta trouble. If they we gonna fight, at least fight smart. Sam would go forward to teaching them to box.

This conversation was extended to everyone. Even Thing 2. Much more kindly. Darlin got read the whole riot act behind closed doors. It was a needed conversation but probably the last time it's happened.

I've generally got a lot more to say on this but like should I? Lokkey wanna put it in a book thing but. Please send help. I saw something about the pack boys being parents but not a mention of Sam. Prior to the last video of Sam leaving, I kept thinking about how if someone in the clan turned a near child (for life saving reasons), they would be placed with Sam and Darlin'

Please send help.

[livelaughlovesubs]

how are you doing today, sweetheart? any random thought you'd like to share?

Yea I do actually.

1. I don’t know what to think of the seraphim’s relationship now, cuz they all call luci brother, but (at least with Michael) he seems to be… Yk, pretty into his dear hyung.

Like- isn’t this incest? Ofc they are all children of god but they even CALL him brother so, yea. I mean I don’t really mind it, cuz I know this game has dark themes, so if it turns out they ‘love him alot’ then I wouldn’t hate on it. It’s fiction, I don’t need to get mad over a work of fiction. Just, should one be allowed to ship it then? Idk man, the ship lucifer x Michael is now a little… ehhh, questionable. I’d want them to get along though, their family issues pains me so much.

2. Honestly, god is kind of an ass in the whb universe. It’s one thing that he disappeared from those immature children, but he also couldn’t take responsibility for their actions? If you are a parent and your kids does some bs you have to take responsibility as their guardian. God, ffs, teach your kids, get them under control like there are so many ways. You can literally create anything, make them wear a bracelet that informs you whenever they have murderous intentions and resurrect the dead or smt, put your dogs on a shorter leash.

3. I kind of have a feeling lucifer, since he hallucinates, would sometimes mistake people as his brothers. I wonder how he’d react to my MC? Cuz she looks like Michael, since I based her of me. Anyhow, it’d be kinda funny, just imagine it:

“I’m the descendant of Solomon.”

“No, you are Michael.”

“The fuck, you don’t see those tits? I don’t even have a wing!”

“You ripped your wings off too?”

4. I posted a fic I worked on yesterday, and that was a batshit decision. Because now everyone is concentrated on the new update, and the post got buried behind all the spoilers. I should have posted it like in a week, when things calm down. I think I’ll actually, I spend a lot of time on it.

That’s my rant for now :]

[midnightmoonkiss]

Bloody Kiss

Wednesday Addams X GN! Vampire! Reader

Blood was something that never bothered Wednesday, in fact.. she’s become quite accustomed to the taste after having been dating you for almost a year now.

You who drinks blood for lunch, and maybe as a treat after dinner.

You, a vampire.

Or, well, more accurately a ‘hybrid.’ Blood and human food, you required both to live.

Of course, it’s only pigs blood. As if Nevermore would allow it’s more fang-y occupants to consume human blood on a day-to-day basis, it’s far too expensive.

Besides, Nevermore is already on rocky terms with Jericho, no need to worsen it with the knowledge that donated blood would go to them and their blood thirsty residents.

Fake blood and pigs blood are the only options, of course they bring out the real deal for parents weekend but alas, thats once a year.

And so here you are, stuck consuming pigs blood as it doesn’t contain that artificial tang you’ve grown to hate.

Normally other kids stay away from the vampire table during lunch because of the nauseating scent of iron, but not Wednesday. No, sometimes she’d even sit with you. That, or she’d give you a look from across the quad or cafeteria that screams “come sit with me.”

How could you refuse?

She’s basically got you on a leash at this point, not that you minded.

Your lips could be stained a deep red and yet still.. she’d take your breath away with her own plump ones.

It was hard to tell if she liked the kiss or the taste of blood on your tongue more.

You discovered her lack of care for the crimson liquid a few months ago. You had been teasing her when she requested a kiss, taking a big swig of your drink before showing her the redness of your tongue and teeth, thinking it’d freak her out or cause her to rethink herself.

It’s not like you didn’t want a kiss, you just wanted her to know it’d be bloody.

And boy, did she not care.

She didn’t care for that bratty attitude of yours nor the implication that youd think she’d give a damn about something so insignificant. As if blood could deter her when she knew exactly what she wanted.

So, she grabbed you by the back of your head, instantly wiping that cocky smile from your face and replacing it with shock as she crashed her lips against yours. It was almost as if she was trying to prove a point with the way she practically licked all traces of blood from your mouth.

You would’ve been grossed out had you been a normal person. But as a vampire.. she was intoxicating.

You were even more wrapped around her finger from then on.

Her kisses always made you dizzy, but there’s something different in those specific ones. Passion burned like hot embers behind them, you always felt as though you could pass out either from them or the look in her eyes you’d see if you were to open your own during the kiss.

She doesn’t even mind kissing you with human blood on your tongue.. or more specifically, her own.

Wednesday was never one to back away from morbid curiosity, and with a vampire as a lover and her own twisted enjoyment of pain, you knew full well she’d eventually ask you to bite her.

However, she knew just how intimate of an act that was.

Vampires may be ancient, but there was always passion behind a bite. Even if that passion lead to someone’s demise, it was seen as taboo in communities to bite someone without that flare.

So, you’ve never bitten someone before. You were a fang virgin, as weird of a term that was.

The night she decided you would taste her own blood was a moonless one, the stars in the sky being the only things to light up the inky black abyss.

Candles lit up her dark and empty dorm room, prepared and ready for you to sink your teeth into her flesh, the atmosphere beyond romantic.

She whispered poems of devotion against your skin as she pressed gentle kisses against you, relaxing you as she slowly guided your mouth down to her neck.

The second your sharp fangs sank into her pale skin.. she knew she’d be addicted to the feeling for the rest of her life.

The sharp sting, the feeling of blood gushing into your awaiting mouth, the bubbling pleasure and passion from the venom that burned her skin, Wednesday couldn’t help but cradle you against her.

The second you pulled away, gazing hazily into her clouded black eyes, her lips were once again on yours.

Human blood tasted very different from pigs.

Wednesday Addams would never let romance die if it meant she could continue having you just like this.

You’d do anything for her, and the devil himself knows just all the sins she’d commit for you.

[atinylittlepain]

Atlantic City

college!steve harrington x f!oc

part of the girl boy universe

wordcount | 3.2K

content info | 18+ smut, WASPy parental trauma, misogynistic father boooooo, little angst, New Jersey, mostly fluff though

a/n | special thanks to orange anon who isn't anon anymore - apologies this one took a while :')

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

He can’t sleep. He’s in the plaid room again, close and quiet and suddenly he’s small, young, swallowed up by the thin pall of the past. And if he’s being honest, he’s not sure if this was such a good idea, but Andy’s not even here for him to tell her that. Down the hall in the guestroom because his mother hadn’t even given them the chance to protest that no, both adults, no, same room is fine. She had already dropped Andy’s bag in the guest room and his bag in the plaid room and given him a pointed look about the whole thing that meant silence, he knows it well. 

And he’s considering it, he is, padding down the hallway and slipping in under the covers with her, breathing her in and breathing the detergent his mother has used since he was little out. But something is stopping him, keeping him tangled and curled up in the plaid room, that smalling, that suddenly twelve again thing. 

They had flipped a coin before spring break. Which set of parents would be met first, and nobody was winning, really, in this situation. Andy took it in stride when it became clear they’d be paying a visit to Chip and Diane Harrington, shrugging, dramatic warbling of that John Mellencamp song, a little ditty about Chip and Diane, two American kids causing parental trauma in the Heartland. He had laughed at the time. He’s not really laughing now. 

Dinner had been as tense and tight as a closed fist. At first, his parents had behaved like Andy wasn’t even there, directing all their questions, all their scrutiny onto him, the usual rundown of yes, decent grades, and yes, how great, the post-grad job he has lined up, yes, mom, yes, dad. And when their attention turned to Andy, never one to back down, ever, the conversation had curdled from a question about her thesis to her asking Diane about her multiple admissions to the state hospital for “exhaustion,” air quotes necessary to connote the dose of skepticism Andy parceled around the word while Chip glared at her and Diane grew skittish, smiling nervous and talking in that high, airy voice of hers. 

Steve had managed to steer far enough away from that with a tact that can only be found in the children of parents like Chip and Diane, always on the defense in that way. But when they had gone up to bed, his father had stopped him, hand curled, clawed, on his shoulder and I’m not sure about this one, champ. Not sure about this one, right, and got a mouth, doesn’t she? Something else was said about a firm hand and a tight leash while his stomach started to swirl and sicken. He didn’t say anything, just nodded, the smallest okay, dad, goodnight, dad, and he hates himself for that, tossing and turning in his twin bed because he hates that he didn’t, what? Defend her? Snap and snarl back against the closing hand, closing jaw of his dad? Not that Andy needs anyone to defend her, not that it matters what Chip thinks, not really, but still, but still. 

He’s not sure how long he’s been lying there when his door cracks open, the muffled sound of footsteps, a hand curling on his hip, skating up to his ribs and he doesn’t even look over his shoulder, just inches to the very edge of his bed to make as much room as he can for her to slip in behind him, her palm coming to rest splayed over the center of his chest, her lips pressed to the nape of his neck as she settles around him.

“I’m sorry, I think I was a dick to your mom.”

“It’s okay, she’s so heavily medicated I don’t think she’ll remember it in the morning.” She hums, her legs tangling up close with his, perfectly curled into and around each other and barely fitting on this stupid twin bed, but it’s the greatest relief to have her here with him, like the walls aren’t closing in, like his ribs aren’t pinching and pulling taut, her palm over his heart reminding him to pump blood like this, breathe like this. And when she presses a kiss to the shell of his ear, for whatever reason, that’s the thing that finally breaks the thick heat swelling and stuck behind his eyes, water starting to pool and spill, turning his vision into stained glass. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He tries to speak, but a strange sound breaks in his throat instead, a little like a sob, but softer, her hands holding him through the shake. 

“I always forget how much I hate being here.” And that is but isn’t all of it. Yes, he forgets how  much he hates being here, but he also forgets how small he feels being here, how young. He forgets the fights, and the silence that was somehow worse. He forgets the seemingly constant alternation in those last few years of sleeping in Eddie’s or Robin’s bed simply because he didn’t like being small and alone in this big house. And it’s a good thing, he thinks, that he can forget about these things in the new life he has. But it’s difficult to remember that the plaid room and the silence isn’t his life any more when he’s back in it like he is now.

“Am I making it better or worse being here right now?”

“Better, please stay.” She holds him a little tighter, little closer, her other hand brushing his hair back from his face and of course, baby, of course I’ll stay, and he can’t even feel all that foolish for crying in front of her because she’s not like that about these things, and it plainly feels too good to be held by her for him to think about much else than her hands and the warmth of her body against his. 

“Do you want to leave?”

“Right now?”

“Well, I was thinking in the morning. Don’t want those two thinking I kidnapped you and like, ritually sacrificed you to Courtney Love or something. But I’m also not opposed to leaving now if you really want to.” He turns over just enough that he can look at her, the soft curve of her smile, nothing but care, no judgment, no recoil when she sees his bleary eyes, the pull of his frown. She cups his face in her hand, thumb stroking at stray salt beneath his eye, and he knows that she would do it, if he said he wanted to leave right now, she would do it, pack both of their bags and toss them in the car and get them the hell out of here before his parents even woke up. How lovely, how devastating, to be loved like this, to be loved by her.

“My mom said she wanted to take you shopping tomorrow.”

“Steve, to be frank, I don’t really give a fuck about what your mom wants right now.” 

“Where would we go, back to your place?”

“We could, but Robin and her girlfriend are watching Sylvia until the end of the week so really, we could go wherever we want to. Anywhere else you want to go?”

“Anywhere?”

“Yeah, I’m paying for gas, dream big, we’ve got a whole week to kill.” And by some strange unfurling in his mind, the first place he thinks of is Cape May, New Jersey, an errant memory of a family vacation, a good memory, young memory, warm and rare memory. Small town and candy-coated storefronts and the beach, of course, the beach. He remembers spending most of that week blowing his allowance on ice pops and roaming the pier alone, sticky hands and sugar-sour stomach, threading through throngs of too tall and too tan legs. He remembers pure, unfettered joy. And if Andy has any qualms about New Jersey she does a good job of hiding it, smiling and alright, baby, we ride at dawn. They don’t really sleep, just curl up close and plot out their grand escape until the light is starting to turn pale and thin, and the plaid room becomes something other than a cage.

She takes care of it in the morning, takes no prisoners and leaves no room for questions, breezes into the kitchen on a long sigh and Robin called, something’s wrong with Sylvia, and he does his best not to laugh as he oh no, should we go back? and Andy’s gosh, I feel terrible, but yeah, we probably should, a veritable production right under the rims of Chip and Diane’s coffee mugs. They get their bags into the trunk of his car in record time while Andy coddles and coos oooh, I’m really sorry, Chip, Diane, but it was lovely to meet you, Chip, Diane, oooh in June? Hmm, I think we’ll both be a little too busy, but thank you, Chip, Diane, let’s not and say we didn’t. That last part, muttered under a quick breath as she ducks down into the passenger seat. He makes a mental note to thank Robin for calling his parents’ house, after he called her and asked her to do exactly that earlier in the morning. 

They don’t look at each other until they’re back on the highway heading east, grins splitting into laughter, Andy leaning over the console to press a smacking kiss to his cheek.

“To Jersey, baby.” 

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Well, I try. Let’s switch off when we reach Cincinnati, alright?” 

And, well, the truth is they didn’t think this through, at least not as well as they thought they had. They stop more times than they should, don’t even make it to Cincinnati before breakfast beckons. A crueler for him, coffee with cream, and a maple bar for her, her coffee black, perfect shards of sugar sifting and snowing over the dash of his car, a little sick and a little giddy kick in their stomachs. A handful of stops in Ohio too, gas stations and rest stops and an admitted music shop because they’ve run out of fresh cassettes by the time they pass through Akron. And Pennsylvania, forget it. A delirious afternoon haze, a strange conversation about the Amish, the lingering smell of pickles from the burgers they shared for a late lunch. But after their third or fourth driver seat switch, Andy starting to nod off on the passenger’s side, he realizes a bit idly that he hasn’t really stopped smiling since they left Indiana. 

For the record, they never make it to Cape May. The sun has already set, leaving a vivid wash of orange bruising into blue by the time they’re driving through Atlantic City, and they both seem to have the same thought at the same time. Yeah, like the Springsteen song. So they scrap Cape May and car crawl down to the beach, and it’s cold, March, wind bitten and bitter, and dark, and they cling to each other, hands tucked in close against ribs and chin tucked toward chin as they flirt closer to the water. And because it’s cold, and because it’s dark, they’re the only ones out here on this gray-blue stretch of beach, the slow thrum of the water breathing in and out. Andy grins at him and he feels young in a new way, and when she wordlessly starts shrugging out of her shoes and popping the button of her jeans, of course, he follows suit. 

It’s cold, bracingly so, all the air shuttering up still in his lungs, up to his shins, then his thighs, then his hips, Andy holding his hand and it doesn’t count if you don’t get your hair wet before she’s dipping under the dark ink of water, resurfacing with a burst and break of laughter, her hair slicked back and the pooling water on her skin shimmering and shining in the distant light of the city. He does it too, with a yelp, a yawp, coming back up for air to the sound of her laugh and then they’re sprinting out just as fast as they dared and daunted in, teeth chattering as they pull their clothes on over damp skin. 

“We’re probably gonna catch some kind of flesh-eating disease from that water.” Shivering words that are almost drowned out by the wheezing roar of the heat turned all the way up in his car, he has to laugh, a little bleary eyed while she winds and weaves through the city streets, eyes peeled for a hotel.

“At least we’ll go out together.”

“Knew you were gonna say something like that. So romantic, we can put ointment on each other’s matching rashes.”

“Well when you put it that way.” Matching grins, turned giddy and bold, and they smell like the sea, and that’s less lovely than it sounds. They smell like brine, like snapping cold, his nose burning a little with it, eyes red-rimmed and weary, but still smiling, her hand in his over the console. 

They end up getting a room at a motel with so many lights burned out in its vacant rooms sign that all that’s left is the red neon glow of CAN. It’ll do. A shower for both of them, because when she starts pressing kisses to the soft hook of his jaw, she laughs, you’re salty, Jesus Christ. And she wasn’t wrong, boyish and a little brash when he licks a stripe up the side of her neck, smacking his lips in a barely contained grin while she squawks and squirms. So, a shower, skin tacky and warm, and he feels like something perfect, something preening, is unfurling in his chest as he watches her lay out on the coarse sheets of the bed, bare, the soft spread of her hips, shadows bending and breaking in warm lamplight. She smiles at him, her chin tucked down and shoulder hiked, chipped purple nail polish trailing a line of want from her navel up and up between her breasts, along her clavicle. It becomes more clear to him every time he sees her like this that yes, he’s a goner. 

“Hi.”

“Hi, baby, you feeling good?”

“Yeah, you?” She hums, mmhmm, rolling her lips back to hide the stretch of her smile, palms splaying along his ribs when he settles between her thighs, breathing in the close heat of each other. And there are words he would like to say, though they fail him, this feeling too big and buoyant to wrap language around. Good love, giddy love, turning to fizz and foam, and he thanks her, thank you for today, with his mouth pressed into her sternum, nose grazing up along line and ligament, the catch of breath in her throat, her smile. 

They move with a patience that’s new to them both. In the early days, the beginning, when they were both still skirting around the edges of this being something serious, there was also a tinge of something a little frantic, a little fear and frenzy laced into their fingertips because, no, never sure if that time, or that time, or that time, would be the last. But neither of them are worried about that any more, whispered promises and easy comforts, staying, and certain in it. For the long haul, for it all. So now, now, they can take their time. 

And this is different too, at least for him. He had gotten used to, and good at, the performance of things like this, the putting on of things like this, move like this, moan like this, bodies fitted with bodies for particular outcomes. Andy had seen right through that early on, turning the tables, quick spin and her hands on his chest and an easy grin, and he was no longer thinking about the aesthetics of it, of what should follow what, wrapped up in the sense and sate, and now he blushes when she tells him he makes the prettiest sounds for her, pretty, pretty, pretty, my pretty boy. 

Her palms soothe presence into his spine, here, like this, be here, like this, and there’s a beat every time his hips settle against hers, a hiccup, a breath, how nice it feels to be with her, to be feeling this with her, both of them sighing, little keening cries that flicker into breathless laughter because how absurd, how obscene for them to have something as good as this. And he knows that they are the same in this way, two people convinced that no, never anything good like this, not for them, and now getting away with something good like this, good for them, and only them, and only theirs. 

The soft inside of her knee pressed against his hip makes easy movement out of turning them in the sheets, languid limbs and him on his back and her draped over him, the curve of her spine and the taut line of her neck when her head tips back, pooling light like flecks of gold and he puts his hand there, there, curled close at the front of her throat, not taking anything, but in fact asking, and accepting. Her hips roll, liquid and lovely, dark hair curled damp between her thighs, and it’s something better than art, he thinks. She sighs his name when his hand slips heavy down to cup the weight of her breast, just because he can, pleasure because he can. Like that, like that, they unravel for each other in the close stillness of the night, and stitch back together in the hazy aftermath, her cheek pressed over the battering ache of his heart, all hers.

“Can I ask you something about your parents?” Her chin propped on her forearm, voice barely above a whisper. He nods, his palm stopping its circuit in the dip of her spine.

“How did they meet?”

“High school, I’m pretty sure.”

“I didn’t think that actually happened.”

“I don’t think it does any more, it probably shouldn’t have between those two.”

“Hmm, made a good kid, at least. Though I think that has more to do with you than it does with them.” And then, an afterthought, agonizingly sweet, her knuckles brushing along his cheek, you made it out, you know, and he does, presses a kiss to the pads of her fingers, making that knowing real. 

“What about yours?” Roll of her eyes and sigh, the same, but different.

“Two big Boston families, one marriage of sensibility. Add in a little catholic guilt and you end up with five kids and no hope of divorce any time soon.” She says it with half of a smile, a weak laugh that sounds like something else, something tired and trying. He doesn’t push though, doesn’t ask any more. She’ll tell him when she’s ready, he knows. Instead he nods and says a few simple words that sound a lot like what she told him. Getting out, both of them, making something new for themselves, together. 

“You think they’ll like me?”

“I don’t know, I don’t care. I’m not even gonna ask if you think yours liked me.”

“It doesn’t matter.” His words crackle and curl with his smile, relief in those words, in believing them. She smiles and something warm splits open in his chest, her palm pressed there like she knows.

“No, baby, it doesn’t.” 

[theriveroflight]

so it seems the vultures came in too full to fly

@fyeahghosttrick ghost swap contribution number 2! This one is for prompt A39: "Apocalypse AU where Kamila is lost trying to find her father and Yomiel finds her and tries to take care of her/help her"

Wordcount: 4664

Summary:

There’s a kid walking alongside the road. She’s got a dog on a leash and is carrying a backpack, so she doesn’t seem unprepared or anything, but it still strikes Yomiel as odd.

Or: at the end of the world, two people form a connection.

AO3 | Superlove

There’s a kid walking alongside the road. She’s got a dog on a leash and is carrying a backpack, so she doesn’t seem unprepared or anything, but it still strikes Yomiel as odd. Especially since the dog’s a small little toy breed.

“Sissel? What do you think?” Sissel perks up at the mention of his name, flicking his tail back and forth. Yomiel turns around and pulls over near her.

She shrinks back as he leaps out of the car. Her dog starts barking at him. “Stay back!” She reaches into her jacket and pulls out a can of pepper spray.

“Good instinct, kid,” he tells her. “Look, I’ve got more self-respect than to rob some kid.”

“I’m fourteen,” she responds flatly, as though that stops her from being a kid.

“Where are the people who are supposed to be looking after you?” he asks. She’s fourteen. There’s probably someone, even if her parents are dead now.

“Well,” she begins, “my mom died five years ago in a car accident. My sister, as far as I know, should still be alive, but she’s really busy since she’s a police officer. One of my dads died three days ago, and I’ve been looking for the other one since.”

“And what, is that dog tracking him for you?” he asks. Something about the combination of her appearance and the reference to a mom who died five years ago in a car accident sounds kind of familiar. Come to think of it…

“I can’t just leave Missile behind!” She picks the dog up, bundling him to her chest. “If…if Dad’s really gone…”

“Tell you what,” he says. “I’ve got a cat in my passenger’s seat. If he likes you both, I’ll let you come along.”

“And where are you going?”

“Fair question. The answer is anywhere but here,” he says. “Me and my cat are going literally anywhere else.”

She shifts on her feet, clearly weighing her options. “Okay,” she says at last. “What’s his name?”

He opens up the door. Sissel leaps off the seat. “This is Sissel.”

The girl sets Missile down and kneels down to pet Sissel. Missile starts barking again.

“Missile, no,” he hears her say quietly. “If you scare Sissel off, we’ll have to keep walking. You don’t want to keep walking, do you?”

Missile sits back on his haunches. Yomiel decides in that moment he’s going to give them a ride — no matter what Sissel thinks. But…he seems to have taken a liking to the little lady, and seems to at least tolerate her dog.

“Get in,” he says, opening up the back door. “No, you’re not getting shotgun. That’s Sissel’s spot.”

“Okay.” She gets in, shrugging off her backpack into the seat. Missile follows her in. “I’m Kamila, by the way.”

“Yomiel.” He looks up at the rearview mirror. She’s chosen to sit behind Sissel, so she’s easy to spot. “Where to?”

“Both my dads were together when they died,” she answers, looking down. “But…only one of their bodies was recovered. They were out hunting, and…”

Oh. Yomiel knows that shit is dangerous — even before the apocalypse isolated everyone. “So you know where they were hunting?”

“I even know where the body was found. Missile and I were heading for the woods so that we could go find him.”

“That…” Sounds like an awful plan, if he’s being honest with himself, but he’s sure as hell not gonna say that to some kid whose only family is a dog, an absent sister, and the hope for a dad that’s still alive. “Well, I’ll take you as far as this thing will let me go. After that, you’re on your own.”

A better man probably wouldn’t leave a kid like her behind, but he’s got better things to do than traipse through the woods looking for some probably-dead hunter.

“I know it’s not the brightest idea,” she admits. “But if there’s even a chance he’s alive…I have to take it. No one else is going to.”

That much is true. A lot of people have died searching in the wilderness — no doubt more than the amount of bodies recovered. People who die in the wilderness tend to…stay there. And the search parties meet the same fate more often than not.

Can he really send a kid into what’s probably certain death in good conscience? He knows what it’s like to lose someone. She’s gone now, after all, and there’s no point in trying to bring her back. This kid has some hope left when it comes to her loved ones. And she’s lost far more — her entire future, destroyed by these storms and disasters.

“Like I said…I’ll take you as far as this car will go. From there…we’ll see what happens next.” He looks up at the mirror again, but this time, he only sees himself and his sunglasses staring back.

“Yes, that’s fine. I don’t expect you to come along. I hadn’t expected to have anyone take me in the first place. I know it’s rusky. I know…I know he might be dead by now. I just need the closure. I need to see him. I need to know for sure.”

“And if you’re…lost forever out there?”

“I know Lynne will be sad. She’s done her best to look out for me since…the beginning of all this.” She gestures out the window towards the gray sky. “But we’re only kind of sisters. We don’t share any parents or anything.”

That doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Lynne’s probably the sister she mentioned earlier, after all, which means she’s about as important to this kid as the father she’s searching for.

Dammit. He’s gonna have to make sure this kid lives, isn’t he?

***

They drive as far into the woods as his car will let him go. He wrestles Sissel into an over the shoulder bag and loads his backpack with some food, first-aid, and water purification stuff.

“We should try to come back to the car for the night if we can,” he says, “just in case. I have a lot of stuff in here, and I don’t want it to get stolen. Plus we’re less likely to get mauled by bears.”

“I did bring a tent,” she says. She looks up at him and frowns. “You might be too tall for it, though.”

Clearly…

Actually, he’s not sure what her plan was for shelter. Maybe bringing a little plastic camping tent really is the best she can do.

“You said you knew where your dad was last spotted?” he asks.

“I thought you said you weren’t coming,” she replies.

“I said we would see about that. I can’t let a kid like you go out there alone. I’m not really an outdoors guy—” A massive understatement, really… “—but I’m an adult that wants to help, and it sure sounds like you need some help.”

And if this really does end with both of their deaths, then…

Sissel always believed in the afterlife. If she’s right, and he chooses to belief alongside her, they’ll be together — and Kamila can reunite with her parents, too. And if they do manage to make it out of here, he’s still going to get the hell out of this place.

But…if they do end up dying, it’d probably be pretty shitty for Kamila’s father to find the dead body of his daughter with the stranger that killed her mom five years ago in that car accident. It has to be the same woman, right? They look the same.

“I…really appreciate it. Thank you!” She smiles at him, and he sees more hope in her than ever before. She tugs once on Missile’s leash, getting the dog’s attention. “I was going to search from the location my other dad’s body was found…and then look for any signs of mine.” Her face falls. “Whether he’s dead or alive.”

“Lead the way, then,” he declares.

***

The woods were dangerous even before the solar storms took out worldwide communications and that volcano erupted and the rain started. They’re even more dangerous now that the only distress signal is to send up a flare and pray someone, anyone finds it — and finds the source before it’s too late.

It’s a massive risk — one he wouldn’t be taking if not for Kamila.

Frankly, he isn’t even sure they’ll find anything — even the body. The closure that Kamila’s looking for might be completely out of reach. But the hope for a sign has been keeping her going, so he can’t just crash it that easily.

Sissel used to tell him that it was always darkest before the dawn. Pretty ironic, considering what happened to her in the end. Maybe she just couldn’t convince herself to believe it anymore. Optimism was never either of their strong suits, after all.

But before the solar storms hit, he was a tech guy. Running away and living in the woods was never going to be his escape from the apocalypse the way some foolish people thought it would be theirs.

He can hear running water in the distance. Is there a river that comes up here?

“Dad’s body was found near the beaver pond,” Kamila explains as they walk. “Daddy’s probably not there anymore, but retracing his steps is the only lead I have, so…”

“It makes the most sense.”

She told him about her plan to retrace his steps earlier, but he can’t fault her for being nervous at a time like this. They’ve only known each other for a couple hours at most, and he’s followed her into a dangerous but important quest.

They follow the river down towards the promised beaver’s dam, silence only broken by birdsong and Missile’s barking. He thinks Sissel probably fell asleep, but he doesn’t want to check in case he wakes Sissel up in the process.

“This is where it happened?” Yomiel stops short of the dam. It looks different from the type of thing he would have pictured hearing the words ‘beaver dam’, but he can’t deny that it certainly does look the part.

“Yeah,” Kamila answers quietly. Missile, oblivious to the gravity of the emotional situation, continues sniffing in a circle with as large a radius as the leash permits him. “According to the scouts, at least.”

“What was he like?”

Kamila’s family are all strangers to him. After all, it’s not like anyone would want to hang around the man who killed the family matriarch in a car accident. But he should take the time to respect the dead — especially at a time like this, when electronic records won’t be restored for a long time and permanent memory is so much less of a guarantee.

“He…defied people’s first impressions. But he was also aware of the kind of impressions he gave off and made an effort to play into them.” She smiles. “Mom and Dad and I were some of the only ones who really got to see through it all to who he really was. He always gave me really weird stuff, but…somehow, it’d always wind up being the thing I needed at the right time in the right place. He really liked to dance, too. Him and Mom met through that. Both of my dads were police detectives, but he met Mom separately, because of dance. Apparently, there was a while where they all knew each other separately…but never realized they were a group.”

Yomiel kind of misses that sort of thing. Sissel…she was the only human being he had a real connection with, before the despair of the world ending overcame her attempts at beating back depression. He didn’t really have any true friends at work. It made it easier to leave this place behind, sure, but he’s still a human being that needs to interact socially with other human beings.

Back in college, the prospect of him and his cat against the world would’ve sounded pretty great. Now that he’s living that reality, it’s not everything it’s chalked up to be. Maybe that’s why he decided to hitch his car to this kid’s quest.

…maybe that’s kind of pathetic, too. But at least he isn’t lonely.

“I’m sorry about your mom,” he says, “while we’re bringing up the dead. I was…I was the one driving the car five years ago.”

“Huh?”

“I couldn’t tell at first,” he says, “but the timing’s right, and you…you look a lot like her. I know it was a while ago, but I don’t really…have an excuse for why it happened. It was pretty awful. And…me managing to walk away from it while she just died was a matter of luck.”

She swallows and looks down. Missile pauses and sits near her feet. “They call them car accidents for a reason, right? That means it isn’t your fault, I think. It’s been long enough that I’m okay with you. Besides…just now, you were a pretty good driver. And you didn’t do that on purpose, right?”

“Of course not!”

“Then we’re settled.” Kamila tugs on Missile’s leash, and he stands right up. “Let’s go find my dad.”

***

Missile is keeping his nose to the dirt, clearly clinging onto some kind of olfactory information. However, he’s still but a puppy, and the woods likely provide an overload of said information.

“We won’t find him before sundown,” Yomiel declares. Dusk is already upon them, and all they’ve found are some vaguely human-shaped footprints, which are probably from the search party when taken into context. And he still thinks they’re safer in the car than in Kamila’s tent, no matter how prepared she is for that. Especially considering her earlier remark about him being too tall for it. “We should head back.”

“We’re not going to get very far if we’re limited by sleeping in your car,” she points out.

“We’ll be able to cover more ground tomorrow, since we’ll be able to get started earlier,” he replies. “And I’ll rest more easily there. So will you. If it rains tonight, we’re a lot more likely to stay dry.”

She frowns and looks at her backpack, but ultimately follows him. From the crunch of leaves under her feet, he can tell she’s not really happy with him, but he doesn’t want to look back at her to find out for sure. It takes them a while to trek back to the car, but not as long as it took them to get out there in the first place. When he gets back to the car, he immediately lets Sissel out of the bag. Sissel was a stray that kept coming back before he named Sissel after her and officially adopted him, so he’s not really worried about Sissel refusing to come back. He’s immediately run off to shit, but he’s been cooped up in a bag for hours, so that’s not a huge surprise. Yomiel unlocks his car.

“You can go on ahead and set up your sleeping bag in the backseat or whatever,” he says. “I’ll figure out something for us to eat.” He spends a while staring at his trunk before deciding that they’ll try to start a fire so they can have cup ramen. He’s never really been good at that kind of thing, but he’s got a lighter, so it can’t be that hard, can it?

Kamila’s actually pretty helpful, in that regard.

“It’s easier to start with something that’s easy to burn, like these dried leaves,” she explains. “Then you move up to small sticks, and then you can start putting bigger stuff on the fire.”

Makes sense. He lights the leaves, and watches as the flames build.

“You’re pretty good at this kind of thing,” he notes.

“I like chemistry,” she says. “And physics. And that sort of stuff. I’ve always been good with science.”

“This isn’t really my field,” he says. While the water’s boiling, he gets out some food for Sissel. Kamila feeds Missile some kibble.

They’ll take things one day at a time. What he’s got won’t last forever, but it doesn’t need to.

***

Yomiel’s always been pretty sensitive to light. It’s why he’s always wearing sunglasses. It’s also why, no matter when he goes to bed, he wakes up right at dawn.

At least this time he went to bed early. It’s especially bad when he goes to bed at 3 AM and then wakes up with the sunrise at 6 because his curtains don’t keep out enough light. They wrapped up for the night earlier than he usually slept before everything happened. Plus, waking up this early will mean they have extra time to search.

He sits up first, grabbing for his glasses on the console. Then he puts his seat back up. He takes a look back at Missile and Kamila in the backseat, and then at Sissel next to him. They’re all still fast asleep — no surprises there. He honks the horn to wake them up. Even if Kamila’s not immediately awakened by it, Missile definitely will be, and his barking’s sure to be good as any alarm. True to his own thoughts, Missile starts barking, leaping up onto the console.

“Ugh…” Kamila looks out the window after sitting up. “Missile…be quiet…it’s too early for this…”

“Really?” Yomiel asks. “Because I think it’s the right time to rise and shine, little lady. We’re gonna spend a long time out on the trails, and the earlier we get out there, the longer we can spend searching. He stretches and gets out of the car, opening up the trunk and then the cooler. “You’re probably a little too young for this, but I’ve got some coffee here. Cold brew, so it’s going to be bitter. Don’t give it to Missile if you don’t like it. That stuff will kill him.”

“I know that,” she protests. “Give it to me. Beggars can’t be choosers, after all.”

He hands her the bottle without further conversation. She’s a kid, so she probably won’t like it that much, but she seems pretty desperate. And it’ll be faster than getting some more water heated up so they can use his instant coffee packets instead. Especially since it was pretty chilly last night — not cold enough for frost, but enough that it’s still a reminder of the approaching winter.

Probably another good reason they need to find her father soon. When winter comes, he’s pretty unlikely to stand a chance out here. It’s hard enough when everything’s still in bloom.

He grabs a second bottle for himself and shuts the cooler, preparing for another day of hiking.

He was supposed to be far away from here by now — far away from the past. Instead, he’s on the verge of confronting it.

***

They reach where they stopped yesterday a lot more easily now that they know the best ways to get through the woods. He lets Kamila guide the search — he sure as hell doesn’t know where her father would go. “Somewhere in the woods” can mean a lot of places.

“According to the maps,” Kamila explains, “there’s a defunct quarry a little further in. There should be some caves there or something. It’d be a good place to hide for someone who doesn’t have any other shelter, and it’d be easier than trying to build one. It’d make sense for him to go there.”

“Makes sense,” he says. “I’d rather look for a cave than build something myself, especially if I knew there might be one around here. Let’s go.”

“By the way,” she says as they walk off, “thanks for the coffee this morning. I don’t usually drink it iced or cold or whatever, so it was a little weird, but…it really helped.”

“Was the best I could do,” he answers. “Your family really lets you drink that stuff?”

“Not before the world ended,” she answers. “After that they weren’t paying as much attention. Not that I really needed it, though. I slept a lot more. Not a lot of other things I could do, considering the school was destroyed. And most of the interesting stuff in the shelters can’t be done by a kid.”

“Well, what would you be doing if all this hadn’t happened?”

“I’d probably be working on my next invention.”

Well, that explains a lot. She’s an inventor. Of course she knows a lot about the physical sciences and doesn’t mind black coffee.

“All I can really do right now is play with Missile and draw blueprints,” she continues. “I miss being able to build stuff, but we’re trying to preserve all our supplies.”

“Well, hey, if we manage to stay in touch after all this, hit me up if you need any software assistance. I was a software engineer before, well…” He waves his hand. “All the software died.” He hasn’t even thought about working again once he makes it to wherever he ends up, the city or another town or something else entirely. It’s not like the computers and power plants are really back up — he’s pretty sure the only power plants still going are nuclear, and that’s only because stopping operations might actually make things worse.

“Sure,” she says. He blinks. “I might take you up on that. I…really want to build my own CNC machine — it’s basically an automated mill, it’d be super cool to have one — but my dads said I can’t start on it until I’m sixteen, which is just silly. It’s not even a dangerous machine! It’s so much more safer than the machines I already have. And it’s not like building one will be that dangerous, either, especially compared to other stuff I’ve built before. It’ll be safer in the long run if I have one, and they’re way more expensive to buy than to build. But since they said no to the building part, I started trying to learn to code so I could at least get the software done in advance, and…I haven’t gotten very far. Even before all of this. I guess I have more time now, but…”

“Well, I’d be happy to help,” he says. The words coming out of his mouth surprise him — because he’s pretty sure he means it. Which means…staying in touch with this kid. “I’m sure you can pick it up pretty easily if you have some help learning. Trying to self-teach is…pretty difficult. Not impossible, but definitely pretty hard. And you’re starting with an awfully big project. Nobody ever show you ‘hello world’?”

“Well, sure—” She freezes in her tracks. “Do you hear that?”

Coyotes.

Missile starts barking in response to the call the coyote pack has issued. Kamila reaches downwards to shush him, but it’s too late. The pack’s already starting to encircle them. He’s not really sure what he can do, but he puts out a protective arm in front of Kamila. Missile seems more hostile than usual, growling at the coyotes, fur standing on end. When he looks at Sissel…he seems pretty nervous too.

Bang!

Was that a gunshot?

The coyote pack flees from the sound, scattering. 

From out of the woods emerges a tall, broad man wearing a green trench coat.

“Kamila!” he yells.

“Daddy!”

She runs over, Missile on her heels, and leaps into his arms.

***

Just as Kamila suspected, her father (“Jowd”, the man had introduced himself as) was in a cave created by the quarry.

“Thank you for looking out for my daughter,” he says. “And…I apologize for how I acted five years ago. Perhaps it was fate that brought us together once more — so you could bring my daughter back to me.”

“My wife was always more into that kind of thing,” he answers. Not that he doesn’t understand how they’d come to the conclusion that fate was behind all of this. “But we still lived in the same town after all of that. It’s a small world. The fact that we crossed paths again wasn’t because of some higher power — it was just because I chose to pull over for some kid I didn’t know yet.” He shrugs. “Anyone else would’ve done the same if they saw her. I wouldn’t find it easy to leave a child behind in all of this.”

“I’m not sure just anyone would’ve,” Jowd says. “A lot of people right now are just looking out for themselves.”

“If you’d asked me a few days ago, I’d say I was doing the same.”

He certainly can’t claim this was all in his own self-interest now — in fact, it was kind of in the opposite of self-interest. Dying in the woods wouldn’t be self-interest, and digging up the ghosts from five years ago wouldn’t be either. He would have rather left it all behind. But now? Now he’s not so sure about all that.

“We should get you two back to town,” he says. “And then…then I’m going to head back out again.”

“You’re still going to leave?” Kamila asks. “After all of this? You said you were going to help me!”

“Hey, it isn’t like we can do anything about that right now,” he says. “The computers are still all on the fritz because of the solar storms. Our infrastructure isn’t back up yet.”

“You promised,” she says. “You can’t leave now! Besides…Missile and Sissel are friends now. You wouldn’t break them up, would you?”

She’s giving him the puppy-dog eyes. It’s true that Missile and Sissel do seem to be hanging out together just fine, though he wouldn’t exactly call them the best of friends.

“...let’s get back to the car.”

***

He lets Kamila take the front seat. Jowd sits in the back with the pets. He seems pretty happy with Sissel and Missile, though, so it’s probably not a total loss.

“Where’d you get Missile, by the way?” he asks.

“Missile belongs to Lynne, technically,” Kamila answers, “though I’ve been taking care of him more because I have more free time than she does. He’s both of ours. How long have you had Sissel?”

“Only since…all of this started, though he was hanging around my house for much longer,” Yomiel answers. “I…named him after my late wife.”

“Oh.”

The mood is significantly lower as he drives back into town. He’s starting to get a little low on gas. He’ll have to find a place to fuel up soon.

Maybe it’s a sign.

He pulls up at the shelter where most people in the town are staying together — what was once a hotel. At least there’s enough space for everyone here, he thinks as he parks. Not a lot of cars here. A lot of people left for the city, hoping they’d have a better chance there. Yomiel was supposed to be among them.

Kamila hops out of the car. Jowd follows more slowly, and both Missile and Sissel hop out onto the pavement.

“I…do hope you choose to stay,” Jowd tells him. “In times like these, we need to stick together, not run away. No man is an island. And beyond that…I have lost many of the people I was close with. It sounds as though you, too, have suffered a great deal of loss. Neither of us must be alone.”

“Sounds nice,” Yomiel answers. “I’ll think about it.”

Kamila’s saying goodbye to Sissel, and Yomiel wonders if it’s more so long or until we meet again.

“Thank you so much,” she tells him, bundling him into a sudden hug. “I really wouldn’t have done it nearly as quickly, and it could have turned out really bad.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Of course.”

He’s glad he stopped at the side of the road for her. Maybe even glad that he has a reason to stay again. But then again — he’ll have to stick around to see if that’s really the case, won’t he?

[lazybutsmexy]

Rotten Apple

Ghost x fem!Reader (Canary) x Soap

A/N: This is set after the events in Bird Hunting, but is mostly centered around Canary (here [Name] due to her being in a civilian setting) and her parents. Just a lil' bit of lore for BH fans :)

Warnings: hurt/comfort, referenced past child neglect, narcissistic/abusive parents.

Summary: Sweetened apples turn sour when rotten apples are around.

Word count: 2100~

“...Yae think we should’ve brought a leash?” Johnny pondered, and Simon had no choice but to consider his opinion for the next time they went to the farmers’ market with [Name]. Only ten minutes had passed from the moment they arrived, and it only took her catching a whiff of sweetened apples for her to zoom away into the crowd. 

And it was crowded today, with a congregation of people, alone, in couples, or entire families that had decided to brave the unusually sunny weather to stock up on organically harvested seasonal fruits and vegetables, animal products, and other produce made by the same people that sold them in cute little stands. 

[Name] absolutely loved the farmers’ market - Simon wasn’t that keen on crowds, but both him and Johnny were easily swayed by her excitement. The initial plan was for them to stock up on groceries before spending a long-awaited long weekend at Johnny’s cabin in the north. But now she had disappeared to who-knows-where. 

Her stealth had been an important skill during missions, but now it was a problem. Is this how their enemies felt, knowing that she was around there but being unable to find her?, Simon thought, his eyes scanning the crowd from above - luckily, there weren't many people even close to his size. 

“There!” Johnny exclaimed, and took off in a random direction. Simon was hot behind his heels, refusing to lose another one of his partners today. Both men had to struggle to part the crows around them without shoving them aside, and not tripping into distracted kids that wandered around their parents. 

Finally, Simon saw her, but there was something off about her. He couldn’t quite place it before Johnny got to her, his hand brushing her arm. 

“[Na-]! Oh, sorry,” Johnny quickly retracted his hand with a sheepish grin, “I thought you were my girlfriend, you look a lot like her.”

The girl eyed him up and down and quirked an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, “That’s the most awful pick-up line I’ve heard,” she sneered at him, and Johnny couldn’t help but notice that she really looked eerily similar to [Name], from the color of her hair, the shape of her lips, to the scrunch on her nose when she looked at him in displeasure. “And by the way,” she continued dismissively, crossing her arms over her chest, “I already have a fiance, and you can’t afford me anyway.”

Both Simon and Johnny blinked at the woman, who was looking at both of them up and down. Johnny was getting rightfully annoyed at her choice of tone, and was about to turn around when she saw the woman’s face shift into surprise as her eye caught something behind them. “...[Name]?”

[Name] had been about to grab Simon’s shoulder, excited to show him her newly purchased jars of jams while munching away at a caramel apple, but the moment she noticed who was speaking to them, she turned around and shifted through the crowds again. 

Her heart was pounding in her ears and she felt her lungs constrict against her ribs for oxygen. The soles of her feet stung - although her burns were healed, the new skin was still sensitive. She had lost her treat somewhere, but she paid it no mind, eager to find the exit, and wait for Johnny and Simon by the truck. 

However, and she should already know this by heart, Lady luck sometimes is a bitch. 

“...[Name]? Is that you?” The voice made her freeze on the spot, right outside the parking lot, and she felt like a child all over again as she slowly turned around, her eyes meeting her mother’s. 

“...Hi, mom,” she sighed dejectedly, resigning herself to her fate as she saw her father turn around to face her, regarding her with an unimpressed stare, “Hi, dad.”

“Haven’t seen you in years, darling,” the woman spoke sweetly and smiled politely, but it didn’t reach her eyes. It never does when it’s for me, [Name] thought bitterly. It was no different than when she spoke to a stranger at the grocery store, definitely not how one would speak to a daughter. 

“Have you finally come to your senses?” her father was less subtle, crossing his arms over his chest, “Are you finally coming back home?”

“Ah, no, I’m actually on medical leave,” she cleared her throat and straightened her back, finally remembering she was not a teenager anymore, “I have my own place, had it for a while now, actually.”

“Really now?” her mother cooed, “When are you going to get the rest of your stuff from home, then?”

[Name] blinked at her, tilting her head a little in confusion, “you told me you were getting rid of my things years ago, you said you were going to use my bedroom for an office for Trish or something.”

“Oh, we did repurpose your old bedroom, silly girl,” the woman laughed, then shrugged condescendingly, “what we couldn’t give away is in a couple of small boxes in the attic, mostly your childhood photos.” [Name] said nothing - she had already expected her parents to get rid of all traces of her the moment she joined the military, she was only mildly puzzled about them keeping anything. “I'm sure you’ll want those, at least.”

“...You don’t want them?” she asked, although she already had an inkling of what the answer would be. 

“Well, it would be embarrassing to have people asking about you, you know?” her mother sighed, shaking her head, “What would we tell them? It was easier to pretend your sister was an only child.”

“You could tell them the truth,” [Name] retorted, and her father seemed to tense up at her answer.

“Tell people that we have a daughter who whores herself out for a living?” He grumbled, while her mother looked around to see if anyone heard, “what do they call them, barrack bunnies?” 

[Name] bit her lip, her mind unhelpfully replaying the disastrous argument that resulted from her enlisting years prior. “I thought you didn’t care if I died, anyway.”

“But you’re alive, and you owe us,” her mother chastised, her pitch dropping a few tones, “we raised you-”

“Grandma and Grandpa raised me, you were too busy raising Trish.”

“We kept you fed and clothed even though you always rebelled against us,” her mother hissed, stepping closer, “you turned our family against us!” 

“You did that yourself,” [Name] kept her voice down, calm, knowing from experience that getting herself fired up would only give them more power, “you’re the one who started pretending I didn’t exist when I turned ten, saying you wished Trish was your only daughter.”

Her mother huffed and turned her face away indignantly, “and I stand by that.” 

“...I know, you find it easier to pretend I don’t exist than to check whether I’m alive or not.”

“We should’ve left you at the hospital when we had the chance.” 

[Name] rolled her eyes at that. After so many years living away from her parents, the usual quips and threats from her mother hurt less than when she was a teenager. It was a small comfort, to know that she’d grown out of her parents' shadow. “Yeah, that wasn’t very smart of you-” she was stopped by a sound slap, her face turning from the impact. She slowly raised her hand to cup her stinging cheek, and eyed her father, whose hand was still raised.

“You will not speak to your mother in that manner, young lady,” he growled, and [Name] just blinked at him, unsure of how to react without getting herself arrested. 

“And you will not raise your hand against my corporal again, unless you’re ready to lose it,” Simon’s voice was low, dangerously low, and it sent shivers down both [Name]’s and her parents’ spines, although for entirely different reasons. She glanced over her shoulder, finding herself eye-level with Simon’s chest. Johnny stood by his side with a severe expression in his face, one she had seldom seen before. 

Her parents warily stepped back, taking in the two large men who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. “W-who are you?” Her father stammered - although he would later deny he did. 

“Lieutenant Riley, and this is your last warning,” he grumbled, although he didn’t need to do anything else to intimidate them. They already looked as if they were trying to find somewhere to hide. 

Knowing that her parents were - for once - the ones cowering in fear stirred a newfound sense of power in [Name]’s heart - what was it that Gaz called it? Ah, yeah, scary dog privilege. She found it easier to look at the people in front of them and realize that nothing had tied her to them for a long time. 

The branches of the genealogy tree can also be snipped to one’s content, her Grandma had told her on her twelfth birthday, when she couldn’t grasp the concept of her parents choosing to celebrate one kid’s birthday and not the other’s. 

She had found herself being dropped off at her Grandparents’ early in the morning, while her parents boasted about taking Trish to an amusement park for the day. Little [Name] was heartbroken, and had begged her mom to forgive her for whatever she had done to not deserve a birthday party. But alas, they were relentless, and a lot of screaming from her mom and a backhanded slap from her dad had broken her pleas and made her silent, just like many other times. 

At that time, [Name] couldn’t grasp the meaning of her Grandma’s words, but now that she had grown up, and disappointment had settled in a long time ago, those words rang truer than ever in her mind. 

Even when she was on the brink of death in the forest, seeing them again never crossed her mind, for she knew they wouldn’t care even to visit her grave. 

Keep up with that attitude, and you will die alone, because no one will ever love you, her mother had told her at thirteen, when she started openly questioning the difference in treatment with her twin. 

How wrong she was, she thought. She was far from alone, and she was very well loved. Although her Grandparents were long gone, she had Simon and Johnny right here with her, and Gaz was her chosen brother, and Price was a better father figure than the man in front of her had ever been.

“Burn those photos, for all I care,” she smiled at her mother. It was a calm, detached smile - a polite smile you give to a stranger at the grocery store, not to a parent. “Make it real, that I do not exist for you.” 

And with that she turned around, tugging on Simon's long sleeve as discreetly as she could. Johnny did notice, however, and smirked to himself as he followed after them - Simon would’ve gladly squared up to those two for hours if needed, but he easily relented to her touch. 

Simon opened the truck’s passenger door for [Name] and she sat in silence, still mulling over her thoughts. A warm hand rested on her knee and she looked up to see her favorite pair of blue eyes staring back at her. They looked at each other in silence - there was an unsaid question in his lips, but she could almost taste it. 

“...Let’s go home, okay?” She whispered, her hand stroking his knuckles. He simply nodded and shut the door before climbing in himself. Johnny was already sitting behind her, his lips pressed in a pout as he caught her reflection on the side view mirror, staring out of the window at the pair of strangers that once held her heart in their hands.

After a few silent moments as they pulled out of the parking lot, Johnny reached over, presenting [Name] with a fresh candy apple with sprinkles on top. She took it from his fingers, chuckling to herself at how easy it was for them to draw a smile from here, even though her heart still stung a little.

"Thanks, love," she hummed, pressing a kiss to his wrist and knowing that Johnny was grinning proudly to himself. Simon's hand was warm on her thigh, a welcome weight that grounded her in the present.

She could grow her own tree, if she so wanted, with the people she loved the most.

A/N: poor bby Canary deserved better parents :(

[cameronspecial]

Doggie Theft

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings:  N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 722

Summary: All Y/N wanted was a dog. She didn't mean to commit a crime in the process.

Masterlist

Y/N Y/L/N is a rule follower. She isn’t like her twin brother and Rafe, who both like to test the limits of their parents' rules. But just because she is a rule follower, doesn’t mean she has all the rules correct. This leads to an adorable mistake. 

The mistake begins when Y/N, Mason and Rafe were allowed to go for the first time by themselves to the library. They just started the first grade and their parents thought it would be a good time for them to go out by themselves for the first time. The library isn’t far, they are all together and the Outer Banks is a small island where everyone knows everyone. Y/N wanted to check out new books, while the boys just liked to be given their independence. The group is now returning home from the library when they happen upon a big golden retriever outside of the grocery store. The dog is by himself and his leash is tied to the post. 

Y/N is currently going through her dog phase, getting new dog books was after all behind her desire to go to the library, so stumbling upon the dog was amazing to her. She wonders why the dog is alone, but then remembers her mother telling her that sometimes grocery stores display some items outside of the store. This must be why the dog is there. She immediately decides she wants to buy the dog. However, a six-year-old doesn’t have the money nor truly understands the concept of it. Nevertheless, she knows she has to pay for it, so she gets out a paper and pencil from her backpack and draws money onto it. She leaves the paper on the floor and goes to untie the dog that is bigger than her. 

“Y/L/N, what are you doing?” Rafe questions, both boys were watching the scene unfold. She doesn’t look at the boys as she answers, “I’m paying for the doggie. See I left some money for the store person.”

 “You can’t do that. It’s stealing. Plus, that doggie is way bigger than you are. You are so tiny.”

“I so can do it. My mommy said you can. And I’m not tiny. I’m a big girl! I’m in grade one.”

Mason decides now to interject, “If Y/N/N says mommy says it’s okay, then it must be. I trust her. She left money. So it must be okay.” 

Instead of arguing anymore with the girl, Rafe and Mason help her untie the dog so they can go home before curfew. When the three of them returned home with not only books but a dog, Marvin is surprised at the sight before him. “Where did you guys get that dog from?” Y/N beams up at her father, “We got him from the store. He was on display outside of the store.” Marvin is quick to understand what had happened and takes the kids to return the dog to the angry owner. Thankfully, Marvin is able to calm him down. Y/N pouts as they walk back home from the store. “Haha, I was right and you were wrong,” Rafe taunts her as they walk through the front door. Y/N, feeling her tears about to spill, says nothing. She runs upstairs and closes her door. 

——

Rafe felt bad for making Y/N cry. He didn’t think his teasing would hurt her feeling; he never does. So now he is begging his mother to take him to the store to get something to cheer her up. He picks out the item and they pay. He is dropped off at Mason’s house, leaving the gift outside of Y/N’s door and then goes to play with Mason. He could still hear her crying from outside of the room. 

Y/N’s hunger causes her to flee the comfort of her room, but as she is leaving, she almost trips on an item. She looks down at her feet to see a golden retriever stuffie staring up at me. She squeals in delight and picks up the toy. Thinking it is her parents' doings, she runs downstairs to thank them. Rafe watches from afar with a smile on his face. He doesn’t need the credit as long as she is happy. 

Taglist: @itsalexwin @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @terraeluce @gillybear17 @f4ll-for-you

[we-were-so-beautiful]

4. shower

wow look it's another chapter!!! like... not that long after the last one, even! honestly I had the first 3 sections of this basically entirely written not long after finishing the last one, but eventually I decided I should probably do literally anything else for a while (hyperfocus is a real dick lol), and so I'm just now getting back to it. I thought this was gonna be on the shorter side, but it's about the same as the last one, around 1.3k! there's a pretty important reveal in this one...

Content warnings for this chapter: box boy universe, pet whump, dehumanization, conditioning, infected wounds, (severe) illness. As always, please let me know if there's anything else I need to tag.

[masterlist] [chapter three]

Vanessa’s never been particularly sensitive to scents—it’s a saving grace, in a mind where too much light or sound or texture can make her feel like she’s dying. But by the time the guy lying shaking on the seats behind her practically falls out of the taxi in front of her stoop, even she’s having a hard time with the smell coming off of him. Given how the driver peels away with all his windows down the second she pulls the last scrap of soiled newspaper from his backseat, it probably isn’t just her.

She turns back to the guy, for the first time finally alone with him. She’s too short to be used to talking down to people, but he’s hunched himself into that weird curled-up position again, so when she speaks it's aimed vaguely toward the top of his head. “Okay. First things first, we’re getting your ass in the shower,” she tells him. “And then we can deal with the effects of my questionable life decisions.” She pauses for a moment, considers. “Well. This one, anyway.”

There’s no way she’s getting him in through the front like this. Too many stairs, and too much dirt. The garden door will have to cut it. She motions for him to follow her down the alley, and he unfurls himself just enough to shuffle after her.

As soon as the shadows close in around them, she looks back over her shoulder. When she’s satisfied that no one can see them, she unclasps the collar from around his neck and tosses it, leash and all, into the garbage.

—

Vanessa can’t say she’s ever been grateful for the fact that her parents are insane enough to have a swimming pool in the basement of their New York fucking brownstone. Quite frankly, she still isn’t; they got the fucker installed when she was a kid and she screamed for so many days they finally packed her off to a hotel with her nanny of the week just to shut her up. Which they probably should have done in the first place, given that she was nine and there was a jackhammer in her fucking basement.

What she is grateful for now, though, is that the part of this floor that isn’t taken up by the pool—or the hot tub, or the weirdly redundant multi-person bathtub—is a shower stall the size of her literal bedroom. Complete with benches, and removable showerheads, and, she’s hoping, everything else she could possibly need right now.

“In here,” she motions, and he drags himself onto the tiles. “I’d offer you the weirdly redundant multi-person bathtub, but you’ve barely been able to keep your head up all day and the last thing I need is to fucking drown a guy in my basement. Also no offense but you’re literally so dirty right now I’d have to drain the fucker the second you got in. After this you can have a bath whenever you want, if you’re into that sorta thing, but for right now you’re getting a damn rinse.”

—

Once he’s more or less situated on the built-in shower bench, propped up in the corner in hopes it’ll keep him from falling ass over, Vanessa gets to work, still fully clothed down to her chucks on the marble tile. She unhooks a showerhead and aims it at the drain while it warms up. “Is this okay?” she asks, pointing it at his feet, and he flinches sluggishly but doesn’t respond either way.

“I don’t know what that means, guy.” She tests the water again with her hand. “It can’t be that bad, can it?” she muses out loud. “It’s the same temperature I’d use for me, and fuck knows I’m… y’know, picky. So if you want it different you gotta tell me, okay.”

He doesn’t tell her shit. But he doesn’t flinch too much harder when she moves the stream of water up toward his knees, either, and she figures that’s the best she’s gonna get.

She leans over him and focuses the showerhead on his hair. It’s matted stiff as tree bark, the water barely able to permeate through the layers of filth. “Shit, I dunno man, your hair’s got so much crap in it. Not to mention it wouldn’t surprise me if that shelter gave you goddamn lice.” She shudders. “Might be better off just cutting it short.”

There’s a noise she barely registers as a gasp before his ice-pale eyes fly open and he clutches her arm, quicker than she’s seen him move by fucking light years. She jerks automatically out of his grip, dropping the showerhead in her alarm, but he fixes her with a lidless, panicky stare and the eye contact is so startling she’s frozen to the spot. “Please…” he wheezes, “don’t.”

“You fuckin’ what, dude?”

“Don’t… cut… my hair.”

She blinks, astonished. “That’s the first thing you’ve said all fucking day, isn’t it?” He doesn’t offer another. “Christ. Typical fuckin’ me not to notice.” She huffs quietly. “Well shit, dude, I guess if you give enough of a fuck to speak up about it it can stay. But so help me if I find a single fucking nit in there.”

He whimpers quietly, squeezing his eyes shut, but he doesn’t say another word.

—

Vanessa gingerly retrieves the showerhead from where it’s spattering up at the ceiling, along with an oversized lace bath pouf and a mostly-full bottle of body wash she’s pretty sure is fucking designer. If you could see me now, Mom, she thinks, squirting the gel at his left shoulder, the one closest to her. You… well, you probably still wouldn’t give a shit. 

She touches the pouf to his sullied skin as gently as she can, and she knows she’s not well-coordinated at the best of times but she really doesn’t feel like she deserves the choked-off sound he makes or the way he shrinks away from her when she makes contact. “Oh cmon, guy, look I know but you gotta let me get this shit off you, there’s no way it’s not fucking your shit up worse than it already is,” she cajoles, and whatever she’s said it makes something in his posture go slack and he rolls back toward her, opening himself to her touch. “Thanks, uh, I think,” she hedges, and begins to lather him up with slow, concentrative strokes. She flicks the shower back on, sluicing suds and dirt from his skin in equal measure.

"Ohhh, fucking yiiiiikes," Vanessa says softly.

With the first layer of filth washed away, Vanessa can see the far grimmer reality that’s been hidden underneath. Rows of jagged, infected gashes streak their way across his shoulder to his chest. The skin around them burns an angry red, the wounds themselves all but smothered in sickly whitish-yellow. What narrow swathes of skin remain intact are mottled purple, and now that she’s touching him, she can tell he’s just… way too much hotter than any person should ever be.

She lowers the temperature of the water and keeps washing him, afraid to look but needing to see. Each stroke only reveals more of the same. His chest and left shoulder seem to have gotten most of the worst of it, but there are stripes across his arm, his back, his stomach, deep gouges in his legs. She hasn’t tried to touch his face yet, but now that she knows what to look for she thinks she can even see a scratch or several across his cheek, trailing up into his hairline. Jesus fuck.

It all makes a sinister sort of sense now, she thinks: the shallow breathing, the shivers, the near-total lack of response. And here she thought he just had regular rescuee trauma.

“Fuck,” she breathes out quietly, as the realization creeps over her like ice.

There’s something really, really wrong with this guy.

-

taglist: @maracujatangerine @pigeonwhumps @tragedyinblue @marchtothefuckingsea @octopus-reactivated @briars7

[willowisapillow]

🐺❤️ He Ate My Heart Out ❤️🐺

*Rock eyebrow raise and Vine boom sound effect intensifies*

Sharandy my beloved,, oh how I’ve missed drawing these two together again (even though it wasn’t that long since I’ve last drawn them). Guess I just can’t quit these two.

Had the urge to draw these two again because I'm so sick and tired of seeing so much discourse and detractors about them as a couple on TikTok and YouTube. I’ve recently stumbled onto some edits of them getting a divorce, and while I respect others opinions on Sharon settling with a better man- y’all acting like Randy can’t get his act together and act like a normal husband towards her, which he’s done during the series like multiple times 💀

Though for the most part, I kinda blame the flanderization of him in recent years for this, especially with that one recent special where he bodyshames her, like, what the literal hell was that nonsense? I hate it sm, Randy would never do that 😣

My apologies if I sound like a broken record for saying this for the 200th time, Ik these two are an imperfect couple, but that’s what I like about ‘em. They don’t always act like a mushy, lovey-dovey, squeaky-clean, Disney-esque couple (not a jab at Disney couples, I live and breathe them, but you get my point). Both of them have their flaws like quarreling and bickering and that’s what makes their relationship realistic, because, newsflash, some irl couples act like that too. If their relationship were sunshine and rainbows all the time, then it would just be boring to watch. They’ve had plenty of moments to prove that they have a decent marriage. One of my DA friends said this a while back and I fully agree with them; a couple with their ups and downs is a lot better than a toxic marriage happening every single episode.

And at least Randy doesn’t treat Sharon awfully 24/7, cheats on her with other people, married her solely for her looks, or told her that he hates being with his kids. And imo they’re a healthier couple then the other parents like Staurt and Carol and Stephen and Linda don’t @ me plz-

So sorry if I went off on yet another tangent, I’m just your average online yapper who gets unnecessarily defensive over my fav fictional characters 💅🏾✨

My silly rant out of the way, when I was younger I had this habit of inserting my favorite franchises into random fairytales. I don’t know why I did it so much, I just liked the concept of it. I’ve done it with Mario, Banjo-Kazooie and Cuphead, now I’m doing it with South Park. The theme I wanted to go for was Red Riding Hood after binge watching those “Dark origins of your childhood fairytales” videos, bumping into some other fairytale AUs on here for some inspo, and listening to Monster by Lady Gaga and Won’t Bite by Doja Cat one too many times.

Wanted to go for a stylish but sultry look for Riding Hood!Sharon, and as for Werewolf!Randy I definitely went full on furry on him in this picture. I am not sorry at all. Now I just kinda picture some scenarios where he acts like an actual dog. Like, Sharon has him on a leash and takes him on walks, sprays him with a spray bottle anytime he starts actin’ up, or giving him some weed to calm him down when he enters feral mode. Randy is also very loyal and protective of his wifey, and will not hesitate to bite, scratch (and probably kill) you if you lay a finger on her. Also like the idea of him enjoying being scratched behind the ears and getting belly rubs haha

And I had a thought of having Stan playing the role of the huntsman, ‘cause I think it would be adorbs for him to help out his mama <3

🌲 🐺 ❤️ 🐺 🌲