#would you believe i promised myself its gonna be ‚’’’’’just a sketch’’’

[wylinka]

The long awaited reunion from @lovelyelbowleech’s War Games, ch. 37! Took some creative liberties in the name of comedy, but i’m sure Momo’s still happy on the inside

[matthewbeilschmidts]

It’s been a long while since I’ve posted but I’m so glad that I am :’)

This is for Day 1: of @prucanweek - Ordinary

Apologies for spelling errors, it’s a little short but I hope you enjoy 😭💞

-

Matthew doesn’t mind that he’s living an ordinary life. Really.

He grows up near the coast, two parents, a fraternal twin brother, and their gangly hairless cat, Tony (picked curtesy of Alfred). Their parents take them everywhere they can during their childhood, the beach, museums, sports game. They focus on their interests, figuring out what the two like and dislike, as they encourage them both to be themselves and do what they love no matter what. Alfred debates between whether he likes wrestling or football more, while Matthew settles into hockey. In between family get togethers, community festivals, and endless sports training, they somehow have time for homework. (The two share answers a lot.)

He and Alfred each have their own rooms when they enter their teen years, a space to decorate and fill with their own mementos and awards. The sports continue, but later their parents find themselves a little bit busier than before. They do though, give them as much time as they can during the school year, never wanting them to go without someone by their side.

Matthew fades into the background a little bit as they get older, while Alfred puts himself front and center. Matthew watches once with a hand over his eyes as Alfred auditions for the school musical, and surprisingly he read and sings the lines well. “It’s always the rowdy ones!” their theater teachers says after he’s finished performing, a mix of anticipation from planning on putting Alfred on stage and dread at the thought of having to manage him.

Matthew silently supports him, after all he has his own things to do.

He’s the co-caption of the hockey team, the coach giving him the position to give him a little more of a voice, and his teammates verbally agree, considering on the ice Matthew has a lot more to show than he does in person. He accepts, albeit hesitantly.

By the time graduation comes by, Matthew can barely believe how the time has passed. His team even wins a championship under his watch. Some of his fellow classmates look so ready to go out and experience the world, and it’s scary to him because weren’t they all going at the same pace?

His parents talk him through picking his college of choice, and he decides to go. He needs to do what everyone does and experience the world.

And if he decides he wants to come home, that’s okay because at least he tries.

-

He’s in his first art class during his third year at university. The time has been going well, he’s got pretty decent grades and has managed to join a few clubs. But he’s not done yet. Extra curriculars, can’t finish without them. He prioritizes his general education first, and even slips himself into a few major classes early on, but humanities is on record now and has to be completed no matter what one’s studying.

He can get through one semester, he hopes.

Next to him, a student is snickering and the professor doesn’t look amused.

“Gilbert.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“If you’re done, I can introduce myself now.”

The professor goes in with complete, in-depth introductory slides with her name and credentials, and a briefing of all they will overcome this semester.

He’s never been an artist, at least not one that picks up a pencil and creates a realistic masterpiece with nothing but that and a pad of paper. Maybe some poetry contests in high school, if that counts. The written word has its own impact, its own set of colors to breathe out for the world to see.

There’s another snicker, interrupting his internal monologue.

He doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t know the student, and it’s not his place to control others. But, if it starts to hinder the class, maybe he’ll tell him something. He’s paying to be there, too.

The man catches him staring.

“Yes?” he asks Matthew without being spoken to in the first place.

“Oh,” Matthew flushes at being caught, not that he was trying to hide it anyway. “Well, she didn’t say anything funny?”

The guys waves a hand, making a “psssh” noise as he does.

“I’m just laughing because of how formal this all is. She won’t be this dignified later in the semester that’s for sure. She’ll be ripping her hair out.”

Matthew glances back, he doesn’t want to say anyone looks mean but, he would believe it if she was.

“You look scared,” the guy laughs, which is rude because isn’t he the one that just put the thought in Matthew’s mind? “She’s not too mean just a sticker to the rules. Will get real pissy if something doesn’t go right.”

“And you still set her off knowing that?”

The man laughs again, but this time around he’s actually trying to contain it behind the thin art easel. He’s not very hidden.

“She’s my cousin’s wife.”

Ah, that makes sense then? Messing with family is normal, but also he shouldn’t be bothering her at work.

“It’s no wonder you seemed casual.”

“She taught both of the lower division figure drawing classes, too. This is my third semester in her class. She’s the only one teaching this specific class I didn’t have too much of a choice.”

“Art major?”

“Yep! And you?”

“Psychology major. I have to get in some cultural classes.”

“Ever taken art?”

“Actually no, not even in high school. I got through that stuff by working backstage in the theater department.”

“Well not to worry my friend, because you picked the best one.”

“Is it easy to pass?”

“Nope. Well, maybe if she likes your work,” Matthew deflates at the blunt response, “but don’t worry because I’m here to be your guide.”

Matthew perks up, but it takes him a moment. This guy’s gonna help him?

“Are you any good?”

“Am I good?” He looks perplexed Matthew would even ask. Matthew has to cover his own amusement. “I may not look it but charcoal and I go way back. I’ll show you my work later as proof.”

“Deal.”

“Gilbert, since you’re adamant on talking, you can be the first to introduce yourself.”

Even if his name wasn’t said, Matthew feels just as guilty. Caught, for talking on the first day of all things.

“Gilbert Beilshcmidt. Fourth year. I’m an art major and my favorite breakfast food is pancakes.”

Matthew looks surprised that he was paying attention, even to the last addition of their introduction. Matthew’s not sure he would have known considering he was distracted.

-

And so their friendship starts.

-

Gilbert sits next to him again. And again.

Where ever Matthew sits in the art room, Gilbert follows not too long after.

Some days they take the sitting desks, some they stand and lean against the stools.

And despite not even talking much, Gilbert treats him like a friend.

-

“Do you have any plans this afternoon?”

“Nope, this was my last class.”

“Do you want to get some coffee and work on our sketch books.”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

-

Matthew finds himself meeting Gilbert in his downtime. Every Thursday after drawing for three hours becomes the day they meet. At first, all they do is draw, little more.

Gilbert is animated in all moments, but he has short spurts where he focuses exceptionally on his work. Matthew is no art critic, but he thinks Gilbert expresses himself quite well on paper. Graphite, charcoal, and pastels, all the utensils glide easily without a single stroke missing its mark.

Watercolor though, could use some work, which actually happens to be Matthew’s favorite. Even if the intention is to guide the colors with a brush, it’s okay for them to take a life of their own spreading across the thick paper.

They share snacks, art supplies, and their time.

Gilbert proves himself very useful as he promised. Matthew though never planning to be the next Van Gogh, has to pass this class. And it would be nice to pass it with flying colors, but some concepts are harder to grasp than others.

It’s obvious to tell he’s a beginner, while Gilbert excels. Matthew finds out he only now needs the intro class since it’s the first semester it became a requirement.

Gilbert helps him find the shapes he’s comfortable with, explains the processing for hatching and how it relates to shading. And while he’s no expert, he sees a subtle improvement over the next few weeks that makes some pride swell within himself.

-

“Do you want to come with me and my friends to this cool bar for dinner on Friday?” Gilbert asks about a month into the semester.

It’s the first time Gilbert and him will have spent time off campus.

“Yeah, I’d love to.”

-

Gilbert’s friends are just as animated as he, it’s almost hard to keep up. Overwhelming as they are, they’re extremely welcoming. Matthew eases into the atmosphere, joining in when he can but mostly pleased to be out and doing something different.

He’s made friends during his time, but like him they’re a little more reserved and pick quieter places on the town.

It’s fun. And he wants to go out again.

Matthew invites Gilbert and his friends to watch his next hockey game.

After their shock in finding out he plays such a violent sport, they’re all agreeing and planning to find the best seats in the arena.

-

“Are you serious. Are you hiding muscles under that red sweater?”

Gilbert pokes at him, it tickles when he gets closer to his biceps, but he knows he’s only teasing.

“You think I’m playing but I’m serious! You should have been there, well you were there. On the stands, I mean. We all screamed after you sent that player flying against the wall.”

Gilbert recreates the motions, but only slams himself into the wall and whines after he bounces back. He then plays it off like it doesn’t hurt. Gilbert’s not a very good actor.

People tell him it’s so much different watching him on the ice, but it’s still him. He’s always wondered how much different, he feels like himself. He just knows he goes into the zone when he’s in his gear. He just wants to win. And he will.

“It’s like night day,” Gilbert continues. “You were ready to kill a man down there.”

“You’re not the first to say that. I guess maybe, I could be a little more out there in real life, huh?”

Gilbert stops walking.

“Nope.”

“Nope?”

“You’re perfectly fine the way you are. I like the way you are, so don’t go change. I don’t want to be at risk of dying during art class.”

And as silly as it sounds, he’s pleased. He likes Gilbert a whole lot, too. Just the way he is.

-

“Do you want to have dinner with me?” Matthew takes the initiative.

“Dinner?”

“Yeah, just you and me. I want to take you out.”

“Like you did to that guy on the court,” Gilbert laughs nervously.

“On a date. Gilbert, would you like go out with me?”

He says yes.

Later that evening when he’s heading home, Gilbert starts running through the courtyard cheering that “I have a date with the cutest guy I’ve ever met!”

Matthew’s window is open, he’s face is bright red and he slams head first into his pillow. He needs to plan the best first date ever.

-

Three months into dating, he’s finally heading home again for a school break. He wants to take Gilbert with him, who is waiting for the next major holiday to go back home. But isn’t it too soon? They haven’t been dating that long, after all.

But Gilbert surprises him, and jokingly says he wants to go with him because he’ll miss him too much while he’s gone. And then, Matthew asks if he seriously wants to go.

“I do.”

So they ride the 3 hours train down to Matthew’s childhood home. He’s a little bit nervous, because he’s had dates to school dances, and brought friends over, but this is entirely different. This is someone he wants to take a serious step with, even if the time hasn’t been that long. They’ll never get anywhere if they don’t, so they’ll both take the leap and pray it works out.

“Mom, dad, Alfred, this is Gilbert.”

It’s the most timid Matthew’s ever seen him.

“Nice to meet ya, I’m Matthew’s boyfriend.”

After he shakes all their hands, he takes his hand back to link pinkies with Matthew.

There’s not an once of regret in his mind as the long weekend passes.

-

Gilbert graduates the next year, and the year after it’s his turn. They’re going to move in with each other. Gilbert really has no irresistible urge to go back to his home town, satisfied with just visiting a few times a year. And Matthew thinks he would like to go back closer, just to figure out his next move. So, they go together.

It’s only a one bedroom, but is more than enough space for them both. Gilbert finds work as a docent while Matthew works for a second degree in education.

He still plays hockey for a local league, Gilbert becoming their number one fan. They find their own rhythm, a pace that works for them both, where they can settle down or speed up when they agree with each other. Dewey mornings, warm summers, chilly evenings they spend them altogether.

They decide move up North closer to Gilbert’s hometown. Matthew’s more nervous meeting his grandparents than he was introducing Gilbert to his own family, but Gilbert assures him again and again they’re just a stuffy old family who actually really care about each other a lot more than they let off.

Gilbert’s grandfather towers over him, despite being a hair above 6 feet. He’s silent, eyes boring into Matthew as he introduces himself. And to end all of Matthew’s worries, the elder man pulls Matthew into a hug and tells him he’s glad him and Gilbert are home. Gilbert, just as perplexed as he, stares, but he melts into a pleased laugh.

Yeah, this is his and Gilbert’s home now.

-

They stay, for a long while, contemplate moving a few times, but they’re satisfied for now.

Gilbert and him always make time for each other, continue their own respective interests with complete support of the other. They’re never afraid to complain, because they always work through it rather then let it simmer.

Gilbert’s vivacious spirit keep them going, and Matthew’s heart keeps them grounded.

His life at first seem a little bit ordinary, but how can he complain when the pieces of the puzzle fit themselves in and stayed locked in tight.

[lunarianillusion]

A change in fate

a maribat fanfic

Chapter 02

Along with the changes to her room, Marinette had also changed her wardrobe. She now wore a cropped baby blue hoodie over a grey-purple shirt, that matched her leggings. Over her leggings she wore a high waisted demin coloured skirt with matching heeled ankle boots. A new larger purse, more a satchel really, hung from her shoulder. It allowed her to carry her sketchbook and other tools more easily. Her hair now mostly hung lose over her shoulders with two braids coming from the sides and connecting at the back of her head.

Once she was ready Marinette walked at an easy pace to the agreed meeting spot. Duusu Had taken to hiding within her hood, so that they could drink in all of the sights. Being both not used for a hundred or so years and being broken, made this a real treat for the little peafowl. Marinette could practically feel the little god vibrating with joy, to be outside in the world again. 

The sun was shining through the clouds and a soft breeze made the early autumn leaves rustle in the trees, as the two reached the park. Marinette could already spot the red-haired omega sitting on a bench close to the pond in the shade of a willow tree. He was fidgeting with a pencil and his sketch book lay on his lap. His posture looked tense.

By the look of it he too had a wardrobe change. Marinette was gonna bet that Marc had helped with the ensemble. Those two were inseparable. He wore a white long-sleeved turtleneck shirt with grey stripes on his chest. Faded navy pants and a jacked tied around his waist. A black and white backpack with rainbow details sat beside him.

“Hey, Nathaniel,” Marinette called out, gaining said boy’s attention as she neared.

“Hey, Marinette,” Nathaniel greeted, his shoulders losing the smallest amount of tension. “Glad you could come. I hope you weren’t too busy.”

“Circumstances made it so that I had nothing scheduled today. But I do hope you were not lying about it being important. Otherwise I will send the Fury’s of art upon thee,” The blue-eyed girl exclaimed in a posh voice. Marinette hoped that it would lighten some of the tension that was flowing through the air and it seemed to work. There was no need for an Akuma today.

“Oh, I beg mercy of thee. Do not condemn me to such a fate, for I would not dare to break my vow,” Nathaniel exclaimed in kind, placing his hand on his heart. It made both of the omegas chuckle and the hidden kwami purr softly.

“So, what is it you wanted to talk about?” Marinette asked, as nonchalant as possible. As she sat down on the bench and pulled out a thermos from her satchel. Which held the gods elixir, coffee. “It sounded quite urgent from your text.”

“Yeah, it is,” Nathaniel said sheepishly, scratching his neck. “But it is not an easy subject to start a conversation with. Or to talk about in general, I believe. So, let me first ask you how you are feeling. I know you have probably had this question asked to many times already. But I know what it is like to be akumatized and of the nightmares that follow so don’t try to say that all is just hunky-dory great.”

Marinette hummed at his words, raising an amused eyebrow at the last bit. Before turning her gaze away from the redhead. Her sharp eyes scanning the surroundings for any uninvited guests. While she knew Nathaniel would keep to his word the scent anxiety kept her slightly on edge. Paranoia had settled deep into her over the past few years. Only the little hidden kwami’s presence was what kept her calm. For Duusu would inform her if someone with bad intentions was to come close.

After a moment of thought Marinette answered. “I was a bit shaken after the whole event, who wouldn’t? All considered though, I think I am doing pretty good.”

After the whole reveal of her being a true soul, Duusu had helped sort out her emotions. They had given her a few suggestions on how to more healthily coupe with the more negative ones. Who knew writing your problems down on a slip of paper and then watching it burn could be so therapeutic.

She turned her gaze back to Nathaniel. “As for the subject of our meeting. Just be blunt about and we will go from there. Keeping it bottled up and it will only stress you out over time and I really don’t wanna deal with an akuma right now,” She accentuated the last part of her statement.

“Yeah, that would really kill the mood wouldn’t it,” Nathaniel sighed. He took a small breath to collect his courage as Marinette took another sip of her coffee. Then Nathaniel bluntly stated: “I know that you are the original ladybug.”

Cue spit-take from Marinette. Mental panic has reached its peak! Abort!! ABORT!!!

“Uhm…I don’t know wha-”

“Don’t even try Marinette. The amount of times I saw ladybug land on your balcony only for you to leave through the front door and vice versa. Was a big enough give away. After that your physiques just matched up,” Nathaniel boldly interrupted. Leaving Marinette in a stunned wide-eyed stare. “Hey, I might not be a fashion designer, but I am an artist and have an eye for these details just like you.” He said quickly with a small stutter. Since he was feeling a little unnerved at her wide-eyed stare. It was as if she was staring into his soul.

“How long have you known?” The female omega asked tentively, her scent spiked with anxiety. Her body language screamed that she was ready to bolt.

“For maybe seven months now,” Nathaniel replied carefully.

“Did you tell anyone?” Marinette asked further, the tension not leaving her.

“I told no one, not even Marc. I know of the importance and reasons behind a hero’s secret identity,” Nathaniel told her sincerely, allowing Marinette to breathe a small sigh of relief. The redhead then let out a small growl of annoyance. “Unlike a certain tabloid reporter and two-faced liar.” Now that that really got the noir haired girl’s attention even more than him knowing her secret.

“The spell broke,” Marinette whispered as his words settled into her brain as her eyes widened even more, if that was even possible, in surprise. While she had been frightened at the fact of him knowing her secret, but he had not told anyone. She could tell that he was honest in the fact that he had not told anyone.  Since otherwise her identity would have probably been public news by now. Secrets like this would spread around like wildfire with the slightest slip off the tongue.

So, she was now more interested in the fact that he called Rossi a liar. It meant that he had broken through her spell and she wanted to know how he came to this revelation. Had it come after he had fond out about her hidden I.D. or was it something else. She was practically vibrating with a curious need to know and asked him about it.

Nathaniel turned his eyes to the sky, several emotions running trough them. Most prominent was the look of shame and pain. “It did weaken her hold over me, but what really made me realise she was a liar was when she promised to introduce me to one of my idols. One I know to have passed away. I won’t say their name, but that really broke the illusion for me,” He spoke bitterly.

Marinette let out a pained hiss at that. Knowing how painful it is to have someone disrespect your inspirational idols in that manner. She softly rubbed his shoulder in comfort and gave a small apology. Nathaniel let out a gloomy laugh and turned his eyes to the ground.  “You have nothing to apologize for Marinette. I should be the one to apologize. For never mastering up the courage to stand up for you even after I realized Lie-la’s grandeur was nothing more than empty words. And I am truly sorry for that. Because after everything you have helped me with, I really should have.”

Marinette felt her heart flutter at his apology and then he just kept on rambling about how he should have stood up for her. How he should have trusted her. Making her feel hot tears gather in her eyes. She had waited so long to have one of her friends back and here was one. Trying his best to make amends and unlike the rest of her class, he had never hurt her in the same way the others had. He always remained kind to her even before he knew of her secret. He may have been afraid to stand up but did not try to ruin her life like the others. So, she had no trouble pulling him into a hug. At first it shocked the boy, but he gratefully returned the gesture.

“Don’t blame yourself. You did not do anything wrong. You did not turn your back to me like the others did. I don’t blame you for not standing up against Rossi. You would have only painted a target on your back, and she would have made you feel miserable. Like with me,” Marinette whispered. “And I need to thank you for keeping my secret all this time. It means the world to me.” Nathaniel tightened his hold on the girl as a few tears of relief and gratitude fell from his eyes, as the words left her mouth. Duusu nuzzled against her neck in comfort. A feeling of pride washing over the kwami of emotion at his little bird.

_____________________________________________________________________

After they let go of each other they settled back into more comfortable sitting positions. The atmosphere feeling lighter than it had been around them for a long while.

“If it is okay to ask,” Nathaniel spoke carefully. “Is the new ladybug permanent? Because if I am being honest, I don’t really trust her.”

Marinette let outa pained sigh. “I made a grave mistake and because of that this new ladybug has the ladybug miraculous. I don’t know how to rectify this mistake, but I will find a way. That is a promise.”

“You always find a way,” Nathaniel assured. “I’ll keep my eyes open as well. I might not be the bravest, but I want to help. After everything I need to help. Even the tiniest bit.” Marinette wanted to say he did not have to. He did not let her say it. “You have forgiven me, but now I need to forgive myself. So let me help. Paris is my home to.”

It made Marinette smile as she felt the sincere emotion and determination flood of her fellow omega. “Now if only I knew how Lie-la is capable of keeping our classmates and others at her bag and call. That might help take bit of stress of my back,” She sighed. Her eyes scanning the sky, hoping it held the answers.

This made Nathaniel scratch his neck again sheepishly. “Marc and I may have a theory on how she keeps everyone under her spell, actually,” He mumbled off.

Marinette whipped around so fast it was a wonder she did not get any whiplash. She grabbed the redhead’s shoulders and looked straight into his turquoise eyes. Her own silvery blue crystal eyes were ablaze with a cold fire. “Please explain how that two-faced bitch is killing all the fucking braincells of the people around us and turning them into fucking sheep,” Her voice had an icy chill to it that sent shivers up the Nathaniel’s spine.

“I didn’t know you could curse,” Nathaniel said trying to curl away from the internally raging female omega.

It resulted in Marinette raising an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Trust me when I say Chloe can swear like a bloody sailor. So, I learned a few things from her,” She huffed a small smirk on her face. She then let go of his shoulders, giving the redhead some room to breath, as a curios gaze replaced the once cold fire. “Please share. My curiosity is going to kill me.”

Before Nathaniel could start telling her about the theory however, a loud explosion penetrated the air. Both omegas turned to the source of the sound. A good distance away they saw a person a top a glider. They cackled madly as they threw loud explosives around.

Really Hawkmoth, can’t they have one day of peace? 

The answer: Nope.

“How about we continue this conversation tomorrow over lunch. Chloe and Marc can join in on the theory. I do believe Chloe will be thrilled to know how Lie-la is capable of maintaining the utterly ridiculous situation at school,” Marinette proposed. Her eyes never leaving the new akuma.

“You are going to investigate, aren’t you?” Nathaniel asked nervously. Marinette simply nodded not looking at him. He sighed, “I won’t be able to change your mind, will I? How can I help?”

“It would be best for you to get to safety,” Marinette advised. Turning to look him directly in the eye and stopping him from objecting. “You have no need to worry about me. I still have an ace up my sleeve. So, trust me,” She assured with a mischievous look in her eyes.

Nathaniel stared uneasily at his fellow omega before nodding. “Alright but be careful, okay, I better see you at school tomorrow.” Was the last thing he said before grabbing his stuff and turning away to go to one of the akuma shelters. Leaving Marinette alone.

Taking a quick survey of her surroundings, to make sure the coast was clear, she asked Duusu to come out. “Are you ready?” the little god asked. Marinette smirked in reply. Let’s see what they were capable of.

“Duusu, Spread my Feathers”

Authors note: hey i hope you enjoyed reading this chapter. a few people have been asking me about adding them to my taglist and being honest i am not sure of how to do that. i am still very new with tumblr, but once i finally stop being dumb i'll be sure to do that. i hope you will stick around to the rest of the story. stay save.

[ladynightmare913]

Ink Bloom

Greetings and welcome to the prologue of Ink Bloom!

This is an original story inspired by Asian folklore and Jellyfish! Since this month is Mermay, I wanted to write something about mermaids, but I just didn’t have a clue as to what to do until it hit me like a tidal wave and I knew I had to bring this to life in writing! As always, I would like to say a special thank you to my best friend Olivia (@asunshinepuff ) for joining me in writing this spectacular world onto paper!

For the readers who enjoy Red Rose, Blood Moon, don’t worry I will still be writing chapters and I hope you will enjoy this story as well!

This story only has original characters created by Olivia and myself. For those who want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask to me or Olivia on her blog. If you have any questions, theories, or curiosities about any of our characters or how the story will progress, send them to the ask box!

Now without further adieu, let's dive into this new adventure!

Prologue: For Elodie

The rough waves crashed against the shoreline, the wind howled through the trees, and deep beneath the waves, the fish swam for shelter in the coral and anemones. The sea picked up stranded fish and drifting debris in their massive wake.

One wave managed to pull the largest creature in the reef. A creature with a long serpentine body covered in shimmering deep indigo scales, four long powerful limbs with sharp talons at the end, a mane of bright pink frills, like a jellyfish, joined to a long pink snout with a mouth full of sharp pearl white fangs, a pair of glowing indigo eyes and a crown of deep indigo horns that looked like branches of coral. It tried to escape the pull, but even a creature as strong as them could not overcome the powerful pull of the whirlpool-like waves.

The waves rolled the large creature, and crashed against the rocky shore, knocking it unconscious.

The ocean storm took its course, and the people who weathered through it all rushed to the beach to collect the fish and seaweed left behind. The tide pools with many stranded creatures.

A man with medium-length brown hair, light brown eyes, and light skin were among the people who adjourned at the poolside. He was dressed in a seafoam blue t-shirt, with a black long sleeve shirt beneath it, simple jeans, and black tennis shoes.

The man walked back and forth between the pools of water and the shoreline, carefully returning those stranded creatures that were still living back to their homes. The fact that his shoes were now soaked through hardly was a concern for him. As he walked back up the rocky shores, much further than expected from the rest, he spotted something shiny in the corner of his eye.

There inside a large tidepool, was a tiny very frilly snake with tiny horns. The man had never seen a species of coral snakes like this before, as most were banded with colorful stripes or spots, and never containing frills. Slowly crouching down as he reaches the small animal, he tilts his head in observation, he sees a long gash along the left side of its body, and it is unconscious.

How strange, the man muses to himself, he has never seen a creature quite like this before. It must be a species native to the island. He reaches out both hands and scoops his hands underneath to not startle the creature back to consciousness. Lifting the snake in his arms, he stands once more and walks along the shoreline- avoiding the rest of the crowd to avoid confrontation of questions and took it back to his hotel room. There he can safely treat the creature’s wounds, and return them to the sea. Even if he was curious about it and wanted to study it further.

It’s what Elodie would have wanted him to do.

It didn’t take the man long to treat the wound, and placed the little creature in a decent-sized saltwater fish tank, that he had cleared out the fish earlier, and left it to sleep and rest. He watched the creature for a long while, before returning to his desk, drawing a quick sketch of the little creature as it slept.

It was hours later, nearing midnight when the creature finally awoke, very startled by its small tank and in a strange place. The man noticed the creature was awake when it started splashing against the walls of the tank to escape.

“Hey, hey easy!”

He rose from his desk and reached the tank, the creature backed up against the walls and hissed. The man chuckled with a curious tilt of his head.

“It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The creature didn’t seem assured but stopped hissing. The man hummed.

“Maybe you are a snake.”

It seemed like it was glaring at him.

“A very pretty and intelligent snake.”

The man reached for a cooler left by the tank, opening it, he used a tong to pick a large sardine from a Tupperware, then opened the lid of the creature’s tank.

“You must be hungry.”

The frilly snake didn’t move, instead opting to hiss at the offered food.

“It’s not poison, it’s food.” The man huffed.

The creature blinked skeptically. The man stared at it in amazement.

“A snake that can blink?” He watched it for a long while, but the creature did nothing further. With a sigh, he looked at the sardine. “Do you not eat fish?”

When the man looked away, the creature then lunged for the fish, ripping from the tongs and swallowing it whole.

The man stared in awe and mild horror. “Alright, you do eat fish.”

The creature, curled tightly around itself, its eyes gleaming. The man deemed, at least to him, the creature to be smug. The man shook his head in amusement.

“Once you're fully recovered, I’ll return you back to the ocean.” The man vowed, and the creature seemed to believe him.

The man kept the creature for three days, changed the dressing on its wound, and kept it well fed. One of his colleagues visited his room and was shocked at the sight of the strange animal.

“What is it?” His colleague asked.

The man simply shrugged, “I don’t know, it might be a species of sea snake.”

His colleague was a tall man with blonde hair and grey eyes looked to the man. “You haven’t taken samples?”

“It’s injured.”

“True, I guess you can take a sample once you take it back to your lab.”

The man shook his head as the creature looked at both men, cocking its head adorably. In their short time together, the man had learned that the creature can breathe both in and out of the water, it can escape its tank, it has four tiny limbs, and it lets out a light chirp that sounds almost like a cat purring when it’s content with its meal.

“I’m not taking it back to California, I’m returning it back to the sea.”

His colleague frowned. “Are you serious? This could be a new species! You could become famous.”

“I don’t care about that, and besides I already promised.”

“To who?” His friend sighed in exasperation.

“Elodie.” Was the man's response.

“You could name the species Elodie.”

The man glared at his colleague who stayed silent for the rest of his stay, which wasn’t long. The following day, the man deemed the creature healthy and strong enough to be returned back into the wild.

The man returned to the same beach where he had found the creature. Opening the lid of the large cooler, he lays it on its side and backs away. The creature hesitantly walked out, and at the sight of the blue waves, it ran towards it but abruptly stopped, turning to look back at the human.

The man smiled as the creature cocked its head to the side, giving him a tentative chirp.

“Go.”

And that was all the creature needed before it continued on its path back home. And the man followed the strange creature’s example and returned to his home back in California.

Two years later, on the shores of California, the full moon reflected across the blue ocean, tourists and visitors had long returned home to sleep, when a tall Asian woman walked out from the ocean to the sandy shoreline. The woman was dressed in a long traditional Chinese-styled pink dress, with a dark indigo outer robe and matching flats. She had pale skin, long silky ink blue hair, bright pink lips, and glowing indigo eyes.

Indigo eyes caught the sight of an aquarium resting upon the rocky cliffside. She smiled.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Eccentricity [Chapter 6: You Know You Got Me In The Palm Of Your Hand]

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: Mean It by Lauv.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sex and violence, slavery in American history.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Tagging: @queen-turtle-boiii​​​​​ @bramblesforbreakfast​​​​​​ @writerxinthedark​​ @maggieroseevans​​​​​​ @culturefiendtrashqueen​​​​​​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​​​​​​ @escabell​​​​​​ @im-an-adult-ish​​​​​​ @someforeigntragedy​​​​​​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​​​​​​​​​​ @deacyblues​​​​​​ ​ @tensecondvacation​​​​​​​ @brianssixpence​​​​​​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​​ @some-major-ishues​​ @haileymorelikestupid​​ @loveandbeloved29​​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! 💜

What The Fuck, Washington Animals Are Weird

I woke up in a bedroom drenched in a rainbow of darkness, shades of grey vacillating from charcoal to the wings of a mourning dove; indolent dawn rain pattered against the window. There were no glaring veins of sunlight spilling in through gaps in the curtains, no promise of dry invigorating heat, no whistle of vicious parched wind. Toto, we’re not in Phoenix anymore.

“Ugh,” I complained to the empty room, unraveling from a tangle of blankets patterned with cacti and pure white clouds and rust-orange suns.

I clicked off my iPhone alarm—I’d beaten it by two minutes; my circadian rhythm was finally conceding that this whole Pacific Time thing was permanent—and read my nine new texts from Joe.

3:12 a.m.: Hey it’s an emergency what’s the plural of octopus

3:13 a.m.: Rami is insisting that it is octopuses

3:14 a.m.: But it’s octopi, right? Right?? I just announced in front of everyone that it’s octopi

3:15 a.m.: Scarlett is verbally abusing me

3:18 a.m.: Oh you are probably asleep

3:21 a.m.: Update, according to the internet Rami is right and now I have to assume a new identity and move to Antarctica

3:25 a.m.: We can discuss logistics of the Antarctica relocation tomorrow

3:26 a.m.: Hope you like penguins

3:30 a.m.: Okay goodnight!! Don’t let the mythical creatures bite!!

“That man,” I murmured to myself, smiling.

I typed out: It’s definitely octopuses, you clown. Then I deleted ‘clown’ and replaced it with its Italian equivalent: pagliaccio. Text sent.

Joe responded almost instantly. I had to ask Lucy what pagliaccio meant and now she’s verbally abusing me too. Send help. See you at lunch. xx

Wait, two Xs? What did Xs mean?? Kisses???

Did Joseph Francis Mazzello, sexy undead Italian man, just send me multiple text kisses?

“You’re gonna give me an aneurism, Chicago boy,” I muttered at my phone as I slid it into the pocket of my flannel pajama pants. And then I glanced out the bedroom window into a tussle of rain and thick, caliginous fog.

Just a few feet beyond the misted glass, its leathery talons hooked around a branch of Charlie’s decades-old red alder tree, was an owl. But not just any owl. A hulking, spotlessly white owl.

“Oh, hey, you,” I whispered, leaning closer, pressing my palms against the cold window. My hands left transparent imprints in the condensation. “Hey, buddy. Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping? I sure wish I was. Did something wake you up? Did your idiot vampire boyfriend disturb you with a series of ridiculous texts?”

The owl just contemplated me with unnervingly vast, slick, engrossed eyes. And there was something else, too: those eyes were blood red.

“So you’re an albino owl, huh big guy? Good for you. You know, usually albino animals don’t last all that long in the wild. Because they’re really easy for predators and prey to spot. Or they get skin cancer. So congratulations on living to become the voluptuous, tremendously creepy creature that you are today. Job well done.”

The owl stared back at me unflinchingly, blinked, then resumed staring. Rainwater gathered in swelling beads like blood drops on its ivory-colored beak and talons.

“Well,” I noted, turning away and grabbing my shower towel off the back of the desk chair. “You don’t get that in Arizona.”

Thirty minutes later, I was bounding down the stairs two at a time to meet Charlie in the kitchen. He was browsing through his daily newspaper at the table, drinking coffee and nibbling messily on burnt triangles of toast. Crumbs littered his moustache.

“You didn’t tell me that living here came with the added benefit of freaky albino animal friends.”

Charlie crinkled his forehead at me. “Huh?”

“How was bowling with the dads last night?”

“Oh, awesome!” he exclaimed, folding up his newspaper and slapping it down on the table. “We bowled against the team from Mora and it came right down to the wire, but we caught them. Dr. Lee got a strike on his very last turn. He always seems to do that...he’ll be bowling hit or miss all night and then when it really matters he manages to pull a strike out of nowhere. He’s a beast.”

“He’s a pretty remarkable guy,” I agreed, rummaging through the cabinets for Pop-Tarts.

“He mentioned that you and his son were really hitting it off,” Charlie said, grinning. “Not the ragey blond one. The spindly annoying one. What’s his name again? Josh? Jimmy?”

“Joe.” I conjured up my best poker face of lofty indifference. It crumbled like a sandcastle beneath reckless, rushing footsteps.

“Ohhhh, I saw that!” Charlie said, pointing, delighted. “Check out that smile. My gorgeous, brilliant progeny has a crush. I knew it. I knew you wouldn’t be single for long up here. Alright, I’m ready. Bring on the grandchildren.”

“Shut up,” I pleaded good-naturedly.

“Relax, I have great news. According to Gwil, that Joe kid is pretty wild about you too.”

“Oh, is that what you old guys do between bowling turns? Betray your children’s deepest confidences? Matchmake them over nachos and chili cheese dogs?” Still, my curiosity was piqued. “What else did Dr. Lee say about Joe?”

“I think the exact word he used was...” Charlie reminisced, sipping his coffee, curls of steam pouring over the rim of the mug. “Smitten.”

Supernatural Pictionary

I turned the notebook to Joe so he could see; everyone else momentarily covered their eyes or looked away. Then Lucy started the timer on her iPhone. Thirty seconds.

“Go!” Lucy announced.

“I think it’s a boat,” Rami said, hesitantly, haltingly, squinting at Joe with great concentration.

“Do you?” Joe teased.

“Yeah. But I’m also getting something about a fish.”

“Maybe I’m trying to make you think it’s a fish because it’s actually a boat,” Joe replied flippantly.

Rami muttered: “Or you want me to think it’s a boat because it’s actually a fish.”

“Interesting.”

“Now you’re mentally singing Never Gonna Give You Up just to fuck with me.”

Joe gasped, pressing a palm to his chest. “That doesn’t sound like something I would do!”

Scarlett snickered, dunking her chicken tender in honey mustard, slurping Coke through a straw clenched between crimson-painted lips. “That sounds exactly like something you would do.”

“Fifteen seconds,” Lucy warned.

“Fish or boat, boat or fish...” Rami chanted, peering fixedly at Joe.

“Make a decision,” I taunted, hugging the notebook to my chest.

“I’m going with boat,” Rami decided.

“Final answer?” Lucy asked, then stopped the timer when Rami nodded.

“Loser!” Joe cackled victoriously, leaping out of his chair, waving his L-shaped fingers in the air. Calawah University students at nearby tables glanced over with wide, startled eyes, their beloved chicken tenders briefly forgotten. “How’s it feel to not win every round of a game, huh?! Loser!”

I flipped my notebook so Rami could see the extremely unskilled pencil sketch I’d drawn there: a smiling fish. “My condolences.”

“Damn.” Rami pulled a ten-dollar bill out of his wallet and slid it across the table to Joe. Joe snatched it up, tucked it into the waistline of his jeans like a stripper collecting money in her G-string, and slung his arm around my shoulders.

“We are the champions. Bask in our glory.”

Scarlett turned on her iPhone flashlight and waved it in slow arcs over her head. “Youuuuu are the champions, my friendssssss...”

From my usual lunch table, Jessica gazed at my esteemed place among the Lees with palpable envy, resting her chin in her hands. I had worked out a schedule that seemed fairly obvious given my extensive experience as a child of divorce: lunch with Jessica et al. one day, lunch with the Lees the next. I took a bite of the Chipotle veggie bowl that Joe had insisted on ordering for me and tossed Jessica a sympathetic wave. Get Ben’s Snapchat for me! she mouthed back. I harbored serious doubts that Benjamin August Hardy, former professional assassin, born in 1893, had a Snapchat.

Joe’s words from last week rolled around in my head; I could see him all over again, nodding to the enormous painting hung in Gwil’s upstairs office, telling me about those startling, ethereal figures who had initiated Ben into life as a vampire. They call themselves the Draghi. They collect dues from covens, offer protection, keep order, protect our secrets. But they also demand loyalty. They force people they want into service. They might try to make it seem like you have a choice, but you don’t. They destroy anyone who tries to resist them. And they feed on humans.

“This is so awesome,” Lucy sighed, elated. “We could never play Pictionary before, drawing something is way too much of a mental process, Rami always figured it out right away...”

But now they had a built-in blindfold, someone who could draw without Rami getting a peek into their thoughts, a fighting chance at hiding the truth from him...for thirty seconds, at least.

“Okay Benny Boy, you’re up.” Joe darted over to Ben’s side of the table and massaged his tense, muscular shoulders as Ben grimaced. “You got this. I believe in you. Baby Swan is gonna pitch you a home run.”

“I’ll pass,” Ben said.

“You can’t!” Lucy cried. “Ben, please? Rami got Scarlett’s, and then he didn’t get Joe’s...and I know he’s going to see though me immediately. You’re our only chance to tie things up and maybe beat him!”

“Traitor,” Rami told Lucy affectionately.

“Uhh...” Ben hesitated, glimpsing longingly at the doors that led outside to the grove of bigleaf maple trees. He was fidgeting restlessly with his vape pen.

“Come on, Benny!” Joe begged. “I’ll owe you. I’ll do anything.”

Ben perked up a little bit. “You’ll do my Calc 2 homework for a month?”

Joe groaned theatrically, but nodded. He was wearing a grey U Chicago hoodie today. “Fine. Okay. But you’re gonna have to learn that shit eventually, I can’t take the MCAT for you.”

“Deal.” Ben bumped his knuckles against Joe’s.

“Batter up,” Joe heralded in his best mock-umpire voice, grinning at me expectantly, drumming the table with his palms. “Go Baby Swan, go! What will she choose? Will she continue with the nautical theme? Will she change it up, maybe switch to beloved Chicago landmarks? Baseball or food? Will she invent a variety of pizza even more despicable than pineapple?”

“Hm.” I flipped to a fresh notebook page, scratched my temple with the eraser end of the pencil, then quickly sketched a picture for Ben. “Okay, I’m ready.” I showed the drawing to Ben while everyone else covered their eyes.

Ben shook his head, scowling. “You’ll have to try again. I have no idea what that is.”

“Really?!” I checked the picture again. Okay, it definitely didn’t belong in the Louvre or anything, but it was lifelike enough to be decipherable. “You don’t recognize it? At all?”

“No,” Ben replied flatly.

From behind his shielded eyes, Rami scanned through the images in Ben’s mind. He dropped his hands onto the table. “SpongeBob?!”

“Who...?” Ben ventured.

Everyone else looked too. “Oh yeah, that’s definitely SpongeBob,” Joe said, then chuckled. “Aww, Baby Swan, you even remembered his little necktie!”

“It’s so cute!” Lucy trilled.

Ben just stared at the picture, blinking, completely lost, increasingly morose. And now there was a new guest at the table; or maybe not a new one, maybe just a quiet one, something that perched on the ledge of every conversation and field of vision just waiting to tap its claws against the wall and make its presence known: that interminable reminder of Ben’s unconventional past life, of how incomparable his vampiric upbringing was to those of the rest of the Lee kids.

“Benny Boy, you’ve never seen SpongeBob?” Joe inquired gently. “No problem. We’ll have a marathon tonight. I have the entire series on DVD. Also several Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy action figures.”

Scarlett snorted. “This is why you’ve been single since Hoover was president.”

“I wasn’t single the whole time,” Joe corrected.

“Oh, really?” Not that I’m interested, my voice suggested. I was a total liar. I was super interested. Thank the great deity that Rami and Ben couldn’t read me like a restaurant menu. Today’s specials are Being In Love With Someone Wildly Inappropriate for $15.99, and also Lamenting My Own Lack Of Sexual Experience for $11.99. Oh, and clam chowder.

“He had a couple of...what would you call them?” Scarlett combed her elegant fingers through her voluminous blonde hair. “What’s the modern vernacular? Fuck buddies? Booty calls? Netflix and chill partners?”

My stomach lurched; I nonchalantly buried my fork in a mountain of guacamole and left it there. I kept my lips turned up into a smile like a mask. Of course he’s loved other people. Duh. He’s hot and immortal. Get over it. But that didn’t calm my pounding heartbeat at all, didn’t soothe that sudden and irrational melancholy.

“Whoa whoa whoa, okay, you’re making it sound way worse than it was,” Joe protested, glancing at me nervously.

Scarlett continued: “It wasn’t serious, whatever it was. None of them would have cared about your action figure collection or obsession with a city you haven’t lived in for fifty years. It wasn’t your personality they wanted. Thank god.”

Oh this is bad, I thought helplessly. How am I ever going to be able to compete with the memory of countless gorgeous vampire girlfriends?

“Uh, ScarJo, you’re single too.” And Joe’s nickname for her was strangely apt; Scarlett could pass for Scarlett Johansson’s younger, blonder, much hotter sister. And Scarlett Johansson, in case you’re somehow unaware, is already pretty fucking hot.

Scarlett flashed a grin. “Entirely by choice.”

“And much to Mercy’s eternal and profound concern,” Lucy told me. “She stages an intervention at least twice a month. Did I overhear one last week, Scarlett?”

“Oh jesus, yeah. I was like, ‘Mom, what the hell do I need a husband for? I have my own money. I can fix household appliances. I have a vibrator. I’m good to go.’”

Joe rocked back in his chair, howling. “You did not tell Mom that!”

“I did. She was so distraught. She just kind of pinched her eyes shut and shuddered and then went out back to feed the alpacas.”

“Scarlett, babe,” Rami managed between gales of laughter. “A vibrator isn’t going to keep you company for all of eternity. It’s not a suitable substitute for a life partner.”

“You’re right. It’s even better. It’ll never abandon or disappoint me. Assuming I keep the batteries fresh, of course.”

“Oh my god,” Lucy giggled into her hands.

“She’s not wrong,” I said, shrugging, sipping my Diet Coke.  

And Joe peered over at me, surprised, intrigued, slowly raising his thin dark eyebrows. I winked back. Yeah, okay, I’ve never slept with someone. But that doesn’t mean I’ve never had an orgasm.

“Ah, loud thoughts! Loud thoughts! Joe, please!” Rami moaned, pressing his balled fists to his forehead.

Ben smirked. “There’s a color I’ve never seen from you before, Joe.”

“This family is the worst!” Joe exploded.

“I like that girl,” Scarlett decided, signaling to me with glossy maroon fingernails. “She can stay.”

Joe sighed, flustered, then shook it off as he turned to me. “You coming over tonight?”

“I can’t spend every night at your house petting alpacas, mob guy.”

“Yeah?” he asked, smiling, draping his arm around the back of my chair. “Why not?”

“Well, my tonight-specific reason is that I’m visiting a friend.”

“Cool. Your friends are my friends. Can I visit too?”

“You’re aware that you’re a legit stalker, right?” But actually, Archer was dying to meet Joe: the loud Lee, the approachable Lee, the Lee who I definitely liked more than a Tinder swipe could ever convey. This could work. “Offer to buy dinner and you can come.”

“I’m a walking Visa, baby.”

Ben stood, hauled on his backpack, gathered up his trash to throw away. “I need a smoke break before Chem. See you guys later.”

“Don’t forget!” Joe called after him. “SpongeBob marathon starts at 8! I’ll bring the Milk Duds!”

And when Ben disappeared through the doors, a solemn hush descended over the table.

“Poor guy,” Lucy said softly. The other Lees nodded.

And again, I recalled what Joe had told me in Gwil’s office, what he had said when I asked how Ben came to join the Lee family. He was assigned to us, to be the liaison to our coven. And Gwil saw something in him. Potential, suffering, unrealized decency, I don’t know. But Gwil worked on him for years, trying to convince Ben to leave the Draghi when his contract was up and come live with us. To give a peaceful life a try. And to be honest, Ben never seemed interested. But something must have resonated with him, because we opened the front door on October 15th, 2016 and he was sitting on the steps of our porch with a single suitcase, puffing on that fucking vape pen and watching the storm clouds roll in off the Pacific Ocean.

But why would they just let him leave? I had asked, tracing my fingertips over the uncanny and magnificent faces in that painting. Why would they let him live?

Because they know how valuable he is. And because they think they can get him back.

“I think he’s a good person,” I said, breaking the silence. “You know. Underneath the whole being raised to be a killing machine thing.”

“Yeah,” Rami replied, frowning thoughtfully. “Just try not to spend too much time alone with him.”

Car Jacks And Sneak Attacks

“Joe, this is Archer James Foxchild, my first-ever best friend.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you!” Joe said, shaking Archer’s oil-stained hand. “I understand you are really good at making mud pies and poking dead animals with sticks.”

Archer chuckled. “It’s true. We found a shark tooth down at La Push one time and I convinced Baby Swan here that it was from a sea monster. She had nightmares for months. Charlie called my dad over it and I got my Game Boy taken away.”

“No!” Joe gasped in horror. “Were you a Pokémon guy?”

“For sure.”

“Ruby or Sapphire?”

“Emerald.”

Joe grinned. “This dude knows what’s up.”

“And to think, my grandpa tried to tell me that you guys were freaks,” Archer replied.

“Well,” Joe conceded. “Not all of us.”  

“Maybe you two should start dating,” I said. “Don’t mind me. I’ll just sit in my Honda and eat my Taco Bell cheese quesadillas and Cinnamon Twists and try not to interrupt all the sex.”

“Yes, you brought Taco Bell,” Archer sighed euphorically. “Give me five minutes, I just gotta finish rotating these tires real quick.” He jogged to the other end of the garage, knelt beside a Ford Mustang that was propped up on a jack, and starting twisting off lug nuts with a tire iron.

“You have a nice place here,” Joe observed, strolling around the small garage with his hands in the front pocket of his U Chicago hoodie, eyeing the fractures in the concrete floor and the spidering cracks in the windows. “You have any investors?”

“Are you kidding?!” Archer replied from the Mustang. “No, man, it’s just me. I rent for now, but at some point I’ll buy my own shop. Once I’ve saved up enough. A great big one with shiny new equipment and no mice squeaking behind the walls.”

“What’s your cash flow like?”

“I’m netting around three grand a month after taxes.”

“Not bad!” Joe noted admiringly.

“Yeah. It’s a hustle, but I love it.”

“Hey, I don’t know if you’d be interested—and absolutely no pressure if you’re not, really—but I do a lot of work with start-ups and I’d love to help you get into your own shop. By this Christmas, preferably. If we can work out a deal.”

“Really?!” Archer peeked incredulously over the hood of the Mustang.

“Absolutely.”

Archer beamed at me. “This guy is willing to drop serious cash to look good in front of you. You should probably marry him. No prenup though.”

I held my pinky out towards Joe, grinning. “No more sad prenups.”

He laughed and hooked my pinky with his. “Bankrupt me, bitch.”

I heard the metallic clang of a lug nut hitting the concrete floor and rolling under the Mustang. “Come back here, you bastard,” Archer muttered, then dropped to his stomach and crawled beneath the car.

“Hey, kid, be careful,” I fretted, crossing my arms across my chest and taking a step closer.

“Relax, Baby Swan, I am a professional, changing a tire for me is like feeding a fish for you, so just chill and keep fantasizing about those Cinnamon Twists—”

There was a squeal of metal as the car jack collapsed and the Mustang came crashing down. In a fraction of a second—faster than I could see him moving, faster than I could loose a scream—Joe had soared across the garage, yanked Archer out from beneath the falling Mustang, and dragged him to the center of the room.

“Oh fuck,” Archer wheezed, his dark eyes huge and fascinated and horrified. “Grandpa was right.”

I’d Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That)

We rolled up to the Lee house in my 1999 Honda Accord just as I polished off the last of my Cinnamon Twists and Archer chewed, tentatively and dazedly, on a Cheesy Gordita Crunch. The sun was beginning to set in a clouded sky that perpetually threatened rain.

He asked Joe for the fifth time from the back seat: “But wait, seriously, no one is going to eat me, right? Because I’m too young to die. I haven’t taken enough vacations yet. I can’t die without seeing Hawaii. I want to swim with the sea turtles.”

“No, none of us have ever eaten people. Well, almost none of us. Maybe stay away from Ben.”

“I would like a little more exposition,” Archer replied, blanching.

“Hey, if you stay until 8, you guys can join us for the SpongeBob marathon!”

Gwil and Mercy were waiting on the front porch, thanks to Joe’s ‘hey I accidentally exposed myself as a paranormal being and now we have a new friend, plz don’t be mad okay love you see you soon!1!!’ text.

“Welcome, sweetheart!” Mercy fussed, enfolding Archer into her arms as soon as he stepped out of the Honda. “Would you like some hummingbird cake? I just baked it this morning. And maybe some sweet tea too. And some peanut butter cookies. And banana pudding.”

“Sure,” he responded, bewildered. This lady does not seem like a bloodsucking demon, that voice said. And he was absolutely right.

“I’ll fix you up a tray,” Mercy promised, and hurried into the house.

“We’re so very happy to have you, Mr. Foxchild.” Gwil shook Archer’s hand firmly. “We don’t get many visitors around here. I’m sure you understand why.”

“My grandpa always insisted that there was something off about you guys. Especially you, Dr. Lee. Said you shouldn’t still be around.”

“Yes, I imagine that would have been disconcerting for him. He must have remembered us from the 1940s...that’s the last time we settled down in Forks. It’s not often that someone recognizes us after so long, but it happens. It was just Mercy and me and Rami and Joe back then. And look how far we’ve come.” Gwil beamed warmly, then turned to Joe. “But really, son, you’re going to have to stop telling humans about us.”

“Hold up, I was not responsible for her!” Joe exclaimed, waving at me. “Take it up with Ben!”

The garage door rumbled open and Scarlett sauntered out, wiping her filthy hands with a rag. She halted abruptly, stood there in her high-waisted vintage jeans and black crop top and bare feet with maroon-colored toenails, tilted her head and pondered Archer with an innocent sort of curiosity that I hadn’t seen from her before.

“Wait,” Archer said, gaping. “Is that...is that an Aston Martin Vantage in there?!”

“You bet,” Scarlett replied. “You want to learn how to work on it?”

“Uh, hell to the yeah!” He trotted over and they vanished into the garage together.

“Huh,” Joe muttered, watching them. “She was nice to him. Very weird.” He whirled back to me. “Anyway, come on. I promised you an education in classic rock music. And I shall deliver.”

Joe’s bedroom was a chaotic jumble of economics textbooks and Chicago Cubs paraphernalia and U Chicago apparel and action figures and comic books and classic rock posters. There was a massive Italian flag tacked to the wall above his bed. But what caught my attention immediately was a life-sized cardboard cutout of Ben lurking in the corner by a bookshelf full of cassette tapes.

“How is there any possible logical explanation for that?” I asked, pointing.

“Oh, that! That was a joke. When Ben first showed up, he pretty much lived in his room and never came out. Gwil was worried. Mercy was heartbroken. So I made a cardboard cutout of him and would bring it to family activities and do this really deep and seductive Ben voice when I pretended to have conversations with him. It gave the whole situation some levity...and I think Ben secretly liked that we missed him enough to make an artificial version to fill the void.”

“So this bitchy, brooding, blood-craving Ben I met is actually a drastic improvement?”

“Oh, Baby Swan,” Joe confided, almost sadly. “You have no idea what he was like four years ago.”

“I’m glad he has you. All of you. That he has a chance to get better.”

“I think you might be good for him too. Seeing a human as a real person instead of a walking, talking Hi-C juice box. And you care about him, don’t you? Despite everything.”

“Of course. It’s not his fault they taught him to be a monster.”  

Joe just looked at me for a while, and then he cradled my face with one hand and grazed a thumb across my cheek “You’re never going to stop saying things that knock me into next week, are you?”

“Joe...” I hesitated, laying my hand over his. His skin was smooth and yielding yet strong, cool yet not unnaturally so. Refreshing. Safe. Fan-fucking-tastic. Oh noooooo. “Are we a thing?”

“Why? Do you want to be a thing?”

“Oh, uh, no, I was just wondering if we were.”

He stepped away, teasing me with a crooked smirk. “...So you don’t want to be a thing?”

“What would that entail?”

“Well...we’d be an official thing, you and me.” He shot finger guns at me, and then towards himself. “Which means you can’t be a thing with anyone else. And neither can I.”

“Ahhh, I see. So this thing is an exclusive thing.”

“Will you shut up and just admit that you’d totally be thrilled to be a thing with me?”

“Fine. Whatever. We’re a thing.”

“Nice.” He high-fived me.

“This is the most romantic moment of my life.”

“But wait, there’s more.” He went to the bookshelf, browsed through his cassette tape collection, found the one he wanted and popped it into a boombox that was probably older than I was. The frantic opening piano notes of I’d Do Anything For Love poured out.

“Meat Loaf,” I said in disbelief. “Really. This is the product of your superior taste in music. This is the culmination of over a century of musical experience. Meat Loaf.”

“The man is a genius!”

“This is all an elaborate joke about my vegetarianism, isn’t it?”

“No,” Joe mused. “But now that you mention it, I have yet another reason to force you to appreciate this song.” He took my hand in his, spun me around like a ballerina in a slow and careful circle, sang along—with extreme and dramatic enthusiasm—to the music.

“And I would do anything for love

I'd run right into hell and back

I would do anything for love

I'd never lie to you and that's a fact...”

“I don’t dance,” I cautioned him, laying a palm against his chest to catch my balance. That brisk, comforting scent of pine and snow and peppermint was everywhere. It feels like I can’t stand to be away from him. Like I’ll never get close enough. “I am terribly uncoordinated. I will step all over your feet. And I’m really not sure if I can trust you. You didn’t even know the plural form of octopus until like eighteen hours ago. You’re kind of a disaster. A, you know, uh, unexpectedly charming, unconventionally super cute, kind of bizarrely enchanting disaster.”

“Yeah,” Joe whispered, smiling, tilting up my chin, leaning in to kiss me. “I like you too.”

Cato

He came out of the oak trees like a ghost, pushing aside massive chandeliers of Spanish moss that blotted out the dusk sun, his expensive shoes sloshing in the marshy water that flooded the rice field. He was wearing a full suit, but no top hat; his hair was black and chin-length and wild around his face. And at first I thought he was a hallucination, a dream conjured by heat sickness or those first dreaded signs of malaria. He was unnervingly, uncommonly beautiful; beautiful like a hurricane, beautiful like lightning or an eclipse. But he was real. I straightened up as I watched him approach, my back aching in protest, a basket full of seedlings slung over my shoulder.

“Mr. Cato.”

His voice, clear and beckoning and twisted by an accent I’d never heard before, rang in my skull like church bells. He called me mister. This white man called me mister.

“Yes sir?” And I almost added: You want to be careful there, sir. The water moccasins like to hide among the tree roots, especially when the sun starts going down. But I had an inexplicable feeling that this man wasn’t afraid of things like snakes. Maybe the snakes should be afraid of him.

“Mr. Cato,” he said again, this time to himself, very quietly, tasting it.

I kept trying to look away, to disentangle my gaze from him like a hook out of a sturgeon’s mouth, because staring piercingly and astonished at a white man like that in the rice swamps of South Carolina in 1851 could get me beaten or the lash, could get my teeth pried right out of my jaw. But it didn’t seem to bother him. He grinned, hugely, all-knowingly, under prehistoric golden eyes like an alligator’s. He knew exactly what he was doing to me. And he was proud.

“Do you want to be free?” he asked, almost hissed, still grinning from the tree line.

What kind of question was that? Did a sandpiper want to fly? Did a coyote want dirt under its paws and flesh disappearing down its throat? But that wasn’t something you ever confessed aloud, not if you wanted your feet on the ground instead of swinging ten inches above it. But this man wasn’t a master, wasn’t an overseer. He wasn’t from the South. He didn’t carry a whip or a club to remind you of the rules of the world. He stood there tall and radiant in the shadows of the fading daylight like he was the one who wrote the rules to begin with; which meant that maybe he could change them. “Yes sir.”

“I can only take you,” the man warned. “No others. No family. No friends.”

“No trouble, sir,” I told him. “They sold my family. They hanged my friends.”

The man’s grin stretched wider under glinting eyes. His canine teeth were sharp, I realized: like a coyote’s, like a snake’s fangs. He held out his hand. “We are going to get along very well, you and I.”

I let the basket fall from my shoulder. I slogged through the mud and rows of wispy verdant rice plants to meet him in the shade of the oak trees. And there, for the first time in forever, a man with skin the color of bones looked me dead in the eye and shook my scarred hand.

“Welcome, Cato,” he whispered; and I was home.

He took my face in his cool palms, gingerly, reverently, like a lover. He touched his teeth to my throat. And every nerve ending in my body flooded with wildfire as he dragged me, screaming, into the depths of the forest.

[thiswasinevitableid]

This Bites (Indruck)

The prompt for the 24th was: Midnight Ball. This one is NSFW, and a vampire AU, so there are mentions of blood (but nothing graphic).

Technically the ball begins at nine in the evening. Midnight is the highpoint, the turnover from October 30th to the most revered day of the year. 

Indrid and the other residents of Sylvain Manor have spent the day preparing, decorating the halls and ballroom while removing inconvenient items such as mirrors (he’s grown used to not seeing himself in them, but he wishes to offer his guests the courtesy of not giving themselves away).

By nine thirty, the band is playing lively waltzes as couples spin across the floor and friends laugh in small clusters, sipping wine and tasting the various delights Barclay prepared. The cook is nowhere to be seen, but Indrid knows he’s snuck off to his quarters with a certain human, the werewolf unwilling to wait until midnight for his kiss. 

His friend's starry-eyed love is the only reason he will ever permit a monster hunter anywhere on his grounds. Indrid is not a violent man by any means, but he will do whatever is needed to keep himself and the others in his care safe. 

A downside to this approach is that he is warier of some of the townsfolk than he otherwise would be, and they in turn see little of him and think him aloof. Which is why he’s lurking in the corner at his own party. 

An absurd, charming laugh catches his ear, and when he locates the source he’s certain his long-stopped heart restarts.

The man is dressed in a deep brown suit, cut to accentuate muscular arms and pleasingly strong looking thighs. He must be one of the local farmers, or perhaps a tradesman, as his shoulders and slightly weathered face point to work outside and his bearing lacks the self-satisfaction of a member of the aristocracy. He’s talking with Dani and her human girlfriend, Aubrey, smiling a little crooked when Aubrey tells a joke. Then another dance begins, and the two women excuse themselves to the main floor. 

Indrid waits to see if someone else will approach him, not wanting to interfere if the man is here with a partner or a friend. But the man simply sips his wine and steps back into the corner out of the way of the widening crowd of dancers. Indrid inches along the banquet table, terrified of being presumptuous. Then the man adjusts his tie, no doubt from the heat of the large fire in the fireplace, showing a delicious stripe of neck. 

A quick check of the future indicates his approach will be well-received, and he’s at the man’s side in four quick strides. 

“May I have this waltz?”

“Uh” The stranger looks behind himself, then back at Indrid, “sure. Can’t promise I’ll be much good.”

“I am not known for my grace either, so we will make a fine pair. Shall I lead?”

“Only if you promise not to crash me into anyone.”

“I will do my best.”  Indrid places a gloved hand on his hip, enjoys the warmth seeping through when their fingers link.

After two bars of the song, he says over the music, “since an introduction seems only proper, my name is Indrid. What is yours?”

“Duck.”

He grins; hearing that name was just as charming in the moment as it was in his head. 

“It’s a nickname.” Duck steadies him with the  hand on his shoulder as Indrid nearly collides them with another couple, “there, uh, there a reason you asked me to dance?”

Indrid cocks his head, “I wanted to. Cliche though it may be, I spotted you from the across the room and wished to know you better.”

“Oh” red blooms across his cheeks and he looks down, which causes them both to elbow an unfortunate passerby, “fuck, sorry. I, uh, well, just didn’t come here tonight thinkin anyone would be that interested in dancin’.”

“Not even the person who invited you?”

“Aubrey’s awful busy, wouldn’t you say?” He nods towards the two women trading kisses as they dance. 

“Ah, of course. Well, I am certainly glad she brought you.” He hopes his smile comes across dazzling rather than predatory, a fine line he trips over more often than he’d like.

Duck meets his eyes, studies him a beat, then grins right back “Seems to me there’s plenty of arm-candy here already.”

“Yes, but I suspect you are far more than a handsome face.”

That laugh again, making Indrid melt like the candles, “Jesus, you get right to it don’t you?”

“Oh, ah, apologies, I did not mean to be too blunt.”

“I don’t mind, darlin. Like I said, just wasn’t expecting itoof, sorry.” Duck sends a chagrined glance at the man whose foot he just stepped on. 

“Would you like to continue talking somewhere less, ah, perilous for us and everyone else?”

“Lead the way.”

Indrid chooses the gardens as their destination, annoyed when more and more clouds cover the moon, obscuring his view of the plants and--more importantly--of Duck.

“Damn, this is impressive stuff out here. Some of this is real tricky to grow.”

“Really? I must admit my own knowledge of gardening is limited to appreciating its results.”

Duck trails his hand up the trunk of what Indrid is mostly-sure is an Oak tree, “Takes all kinds of things to make a healthy garden. Healthy forest too. Too much light, too little water, the wrong place to try and take root, those kinds of things can make it hard for a plant to grow, same as a human.”

“I take it you have an affinity for helping one of those two categories grow.”

“Try to help both when I can. Love takin care of the forest, but Kepler’s my home; I wanna keep it safe, wanna see it grow rather than crumble away.” He moves to another tree, admiring it, and Indrid follows him through the grove, listening as he talks about the plants, about the town, about his work as an arborist. Duck makes him laugh, draws him into an involved conversation about the merits of different orchards and the manners of cats compared to ravens. 

“You been in Kepler long?” They’re shoulder to shoulder now, strolling through the last, stubborn roses of the year. 

“For a time. I wandered around quite a bit before arriving here. I had a run of, ah, of bad luck. Or maybe it was inevitable that I found my way here.”

“Eh, fate and shit ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.” Bitterness edges around his words, “and some folks give it more credit than it deserves.”

Indrid, futures and timelines churning in his mind, finds this statement perplexing and inspiring in equal measure.

“Fate being what it may, I think we ought to return inside”  He points to the mounting clouds, “I’m certain we are about to be rained on.”

Duck sniffs the air, “Smells like it. Wouldn’t mind all that much except this is the only suit I own.”

“Can’t have such a lovely thing getting ruined.” Indrid purrs, taking Duck’s offered arm. 

They make it to the top of the front stairs just as rain patters on the cobblestones, and two younger vampires vacate their seats by the fire the moment they notice Indrid eyeing them. Someone brings them drinks as they talk, Indrid too focused on Duck to notice who it was or what they gave him until he sips and discovers wine, which he does not like. Well, if nothing else, holding it will give him some way to occupy his hand and keep it from creeping up Duck’s thigh. 

With the exception of occasional glances at the clock or around the room, Duck’s attention is on him the entire time. As the hands of time move closer to midnight, the conversation turns to Indrid’s hobbies and his fondness for art. 

“I draw as well, for pleasure and, ah professional reasons.”

“You got any specialties?”

“A few. Would you like to see them?”

“Hell yeah.” 

It’s a short trip up the stairs, Duck keeping their arms linked until they reach the door of his study, having to separate so Indrid can unlock it. As they enter, Duck spots the commission he’s been working on.

“You do portraits?”

“Indeed.” Indrid looks over his shoulder, “are you offering to model for me, Duck?”

“Depends on the kind of modelin.” Duck grins before turning to shut the door.

Picking up his sketchbook, there’s a click of a lock. Goodness, here he thought he’d need to use the rain as an excuse for why Duck would surely need to stay the night in his bed. 

He’s debating the two sketchbooks, prouder of the plant ones but needing to be sure there are no disaster sketches in the mix, when Duck grips his upper arms, spinning them face to face.

“Indrid, look, we ain’t got much time. We gotta get out of here.”

“I...I do not understand.”

“Look, I don’t know who invited you, but this party ain’t what it seems. And, uh, I ain’t exactly either. This is a fuckin vampire ball.”

“And you are a…?” He’s certain Duck is not vampiric, but why would he tell him if he was human-

Oh no. 

“I’m here on a mission, it’s a long story, but I’m a vampire hunter.”

Oh no

Indrid looks at the future, something he ought to have done much sooner, and steps out of striking range. 

“I’m supposed to take down the vamp who runs this place, but I ain’t been able to spot him, which means he might know I’m here. I’m gonna make a break for town, and I want you to come with me. Indrid I, I can’t stand the idea of you bein where Baron Cold can get you.”

“I” he sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, “I appreciate your concern Duck. But I promise you I’m in no danger from the baron. After all, I have no intention of harming myself.”

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

See, this is why he kept telling Minerva he wasn’t cut out for this. Because not only has he been romancing a vampire all night without knowing, he’s been flirting with the guy he’s supposed to kill.

Indrid must have worn a glamour  to disguise himself the last time he was seen in town. Duck’s been working from the wrong description this entire time.

“You gotta be fuckin kiddin me.”

“I wish I was.” Indrid’s lips twitch into a frown, “just as I wish you were joking about coming into my home to hurt me.”

“It’s gotta be done.” Duck says more to himself than to the vampire.

“No, it really doesn’t. For goodness sake, two minutes ago you didn’t want me to get hurt!”

“Yeah, because you probably put me under a fuckin thrall or some shit!”

“I did no such thing. Believe me, if you were under my thrall, you would know.” Indrid says flatly, only to hiss when Duck removes a stake from his trick pocket. 

“It, it don’t matter. Because I ain’t under now.”

“Duck, you don’t want to do this.”

He doesn’t dare answer, in case the truth comes out. But before he can move, Indrid slides his glasses down his nose, revealing red eyes. 

“You will not move.”

His muscles lock up, his feet turn to lead, and he gets bitter confirmation that how he felt about Indrid all night came from nowhere but himself. 

“As I said, my thrall is very obvious.” Indrid plucks the stake from his hand, tossing it into the fire. Pats down his sides, roots through his pockets and the tops of his boots, muttering all the while.

“Foolish...distracted...should have known....rude human.” He punctuates the last words by hurling Duck’s sword (disguised as his belt) out the window. 

“Hey, I ain’t the one bitin folks.”

Indrid whirls, snarling, “I have not nonconsensually taken anyone’s blood in years.”

“And you were gonna do what once you got me up here?” Duck manages to cross his arms. 

“Show you my drawings! I thought you wanted to see them.” The vampire has the audacity to look hurt.

“I did.” The truth darts out before he can stop it, and so he covers with more annoyance, “But I don’t buy that was really all?”

“Fine, if you must know, I was going to suggest that you spend the night on account of the weather, and perhaps you would like to do so in my bed.”

Yeah, okay, he was definitely  going to bite him. 

“Just” Indrid hugs himself, “just go. I will let the thrall down, and not alert anyone to your presence.”

His body comes under his control once again.

A half-second before Duck moves, Indrid says, “Don’t you dare.”

Duck’s already committed to his attack, figuring he can at least subdue Indrid and get him into town. He doesn’t get the chance. Indrid grabs him and spins him with significant strength, slamming him into the bookcase. He can’t get his right arm free as it’s twisted behind his back,  and the left is pinned, splayed out beneath Indrid’s gloved fingers. Apparently all the Chosen strength in the world can’t help him against a pissed-off vampire. 

“That.” Indrid growls in his ear, “was not polite.”

“Would you knock it off with all that manners bullshit and just get it over with?” He mumbles into the hardcovers.

“Get what over with?”

“The thing you brought me up here for.” He turns his head, glaring at the vampire who, for his part, looks confused. Then he grins, bringing his mouth dangerously close to Ducks neck. 

Cold, but very lively, lips connect with his, Indrid humming when Duck tips his head to deepen the kiss. 

The vampire pulls back to nuzzle his cheek, “That was what I hoped for from you. But since you seem rather, ah, fixated on the biting..”

“AH!”

A chuckle vibrates up his neck as Indrid latches onto it, and Duck clenches his teeth, terrified that if he speaks, he’ll ask for more. 

When Indrid releases the skin, the hunter stares at the bruise. 

“There, there ain't any holes.”

“I told you” Indrid lazily kisses his face, “I only do that with permission.” He gazes at Duck over the rims of his glasses, “is that something you wish to give me?” The hands lift from his wrists, the weight from his back, “or do you wish to depart?”

“I want” he rests his forehead against the books, “I want to, uh, to, know what it’s like. If you, uh, if you want toFUCK, ohgodohfuckAHhnnnn.” His whole body tenses when the fangs sink into the base of his neck, and for a moment he’s worried he’ll pass out in Indrid’s arms. 

Then the steel in his spine melts, pleasure rushing in to replace it, dripping into every vein. His fingers flex and curl helplessly, Indrids hands too busy forcing Ducks chin up and clinging to his waist to hold them. 

He’s never been this turned on in his goddamn life, and wishes he’d learned this about himself any other time but now, with anyone other than a vampire who has three hunters guilds, one assassin network, and two governors hungry for his head. 

Memories bubble up beneath that wish; Indrid in the hours prior, laughing and smiling when Duck told stories or bad jokes. How at ease he felt walking in the gardens with him, as if there was nowhere else he was meant to be. The look on his face when Duck agreed to dance 

He moans, squirming in Indrid’s hold, knowing he’s lost and unable to care that he has. 

The vampire isn’t faring much better, groaning into the bite, the hand on Ducks shirt gripping tighter and tighter. When Duck gasps at a burst of pain the groans and growls turn to a purr, the teeth retracting from his skin and replaced by soft licks and gentle kisses. 

“Is, is it always like that.”

“No. It is neutral to pleasant in most cases.”

“So what the, the fuck was that?”

“At a wild guess, you are discovering some new and interesting things about yourself.” Indrid grins like a fox that’s just been given free reign of a henhouse, “would you like to learn more? Or would you like to go?”

“More, fuck, Indrid please I, I’m-” he’s not certain what he’s trying to say, only that he wants Indrid to understand how badly he wants this. 

Indrid kneels, sets a hand on the small of his back, “Stay.”

The vampire makes quick work of his suspenders and pants, yanking them down to his ankles. Black gloves land near his left toe just as cold fingers caress the back of his thighs. 

“Mmmmmm, has anyone told you these” he squeezes, rubbing his thumb into the inner part of his thighs, “are downright sinful?”

“N-not for awhile.”

“A shame.” Indrid nips the left side of his ass, snickering when he swears. His right hand slips between Duck’s legs, rubbing his dick once before teasing up and down his folds.

“My, my, that is flattering. A handsome hunter, wet just for me.”

“Indrid, I swear, if you don’t stop teasin I'm gonna get my cross from wherever you tossed it.”

“I don’t think you are” Indrid rubs more roughly, neither touching his dick or sliding inside, “I think you are going to stay right here and let me sample this” he slaps Duck’s ass lightly, “for as long as I like.”

Duck giggles, “sample? It ain’t a whiskeyEEh, fuck, oh fuck me.” He thunks his head into his forearm as Indrid scatters bite marks across the sensitive skin. He’s not taking blood with them, seems content to watch the purple and red bruises as they bloom. 

Three fingers push up into him and he yelps, surprised.

“You did ask me to fuck you.” Indrid’s tone is level even as the slick sound of his fingers fucking him fill up the room. 

“It, it was, AHHnnn, a figure of, of speech, you, you fuckin-”

“Choose your words carefully, my sweet.”

“--unfairly good lookin, menace of a vampire.”

He’s spun fast enough to get dizzy, still trapped against the shelves by Indrid’s hands on his hips.

“I’ll show you a menace.” Is all he says before closing his lips around Duck’s dick, fingers still curving and thrusting inside him.

“You, y-you, fuck, and I got real different definitions of menaceOhhhhhh yeah, fuck yes, Indrid, that’s so good,” He cuts off into whimper when Indrid’s head dips down to bite his inner thigh. Threading his fingers into silvery hair gets him another bite and a moan of approval, Indrid continuing to rove his mouth between his dick and his thighs, sounding all the while like he’s enjoying a gourmet meal. 

“Sh-shit, Indrid, I’m close, keep doin that, pleaseplease” just as the orgasm starts building, Indrid pulls away, sitting on his heels with his hands in his lap.

“Is somethin wrong?”

The vampire stands, hands caressing Duck’s hips, cock hard beneath his dress pants,“There are rules, sweet one. Humans who break into my home to kill me do not get to cum.”

Duck whines, only to have Indrid shush him like he’s a fussing dog before kissing him.

“I, however, do get to cum” He undoes his fly, “using whatever method I see fit.”

There’s a tremendous ripping noise as he grabs Duck’s left thigh, pulling it up to hook precariously around his hip, as Duck’s still-booted foot tears out the cuff of his pants. 

“And you, dearest hunter, are the method I prefer.”

With that, he shoves his cock into him, dropping his head to kiss his neck as a Duck moans without caring who hears him. 

“Goodness, it’s been so long since I had my way with a human, I, I forgot how warm it is.”

“Warm you up whenever you want darlin. Fuck, fuck” He tries to hold his own weight but it’s getting harder, as all he wants to do is go limp and let Indrid take whatever he wants. His head is swimming with the slap of connecting skin and the protests of the bookcase, with Indrid’s moans as the vampire noses his neck. 

“Ah, this will do nicely.”

That same moment of complete tension, his body reacting to the teeth piercing his skin. He tightens around Indrid, weakly bucks his hips in search of release as the vampire switches to furious, sharp thrusts, releasing Duck’s neck with a messy gasp. 

“Nmmm, I hate to stop, but I hate even more for you to grow weak and faint. After all, I need you awake until I am finished.” He presses Ducks thigh up, the angle borderline painful, as his hips stutter. Duck’s nails dig into the wooden shelf as Indrid’s words sink deeper and deeper into his core. He moans at the thought of letting the vampire fuck and feed from him until he passes out, of being helpless in a bed somewhere, his world starting and ending with-

“Indrid” he whimpers as the vampire cums, slamming all the way in and grinding with high gasps as he finishes in him. 

Slowly, his foot finds the ground and Indrid holds him closer, both of them panting. Duck wraps his arms around his waist, rubbing his cheek against the soft fabric of his jacket. 

“You really ain’t lettin me cum?”

“I believe my rules were quite clear.”

He sighs happily, the denial somehow just as pleasant to his mind as the completion would be. Indrid smiles as he presses a kiss to his temple, laughs softly when Duck gives one to his shoulder in response. He feels so safe here, Indrid draped around him, that reality’s return is akin to a knife in the gut.

“What happens now?”

“Well” Indrid pets Ducks hair, “as of this moment, there are two futures; you depart, are scolded by your fellow hunters and assassins, and return next week with the same goal that brought you here tonight. Or, you prove just as stubborn as you were earlier tonight, and come back to me tomorrow evening, heedless of your mission.”

“Seems to me there’s one of those you'd like me to do.”

Indrid steps back, still holding him but able to more easily meet his eyes, “There is one I would prefer, yes. But ultimately it is not up to me to tell you which path to take. Your destiny is yours to decide, even if you decide something that does not work in my favor.”

This is too heavy a conversation to get into with his pants down. Not when he’s not sure what the right thing for his town, his friends, himself is. Not when Indrid is still so close, smile blood-tinted but so tender Duck wants to tuck it away and keep it safe.

He knows what he wants, just not what he should do.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll think about it.”

Indrid nods,guides him in for one final kiss, soft and sweet as a sunrise, “That is all I ask.”

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

He watches Duck from the bedroom window, his figure growing fainter the further he gets down the road.

Then the human turns, pausing long enough for Indrid to realize he sees him. Not knowing what else to do, he waves.

Even from this distance, his night vision lets him catch the flash of that smile. The hunter blows him a kiss, which he pretends to catch.

And the futures of Duck coming back to him tomorrow night jump another twenty percent.

[patrickstargang]

A Date With Destiny (Owl House fic)

Chapter 1: A Big Confession

Chapter 2: Dating Advice from the Owl Lady

Chapter 3: A Little Help From My Friends

Chapter 4: What I Really Wanted

Final Chapter: Goodnight

A feeling came over Luz as she closed the door, a feeling she remembered having before going to Grom. What was uneasiness quickly turned into panic. This kind of fear was more reserved for life-threatening situations, but it still showed itself here. She began to pace around the room.

The door opened again as Eda walked in, carrying a bag filled with loot. She brought it to the table in front of the couch, not noticing Luz pacing. She sifted through loose pieces of gold and random bits of magical gadgets.

“Alright, let's see if there's any good finds in he-” Eda stopped when she noticed Luz pacing, seeming a bit more out of her element than she usually is. “You good over there Luz?”

Luz snapped out of her trance, darting her vision in Eda’s direction. She started nervously twiddling her thumbs.

“What, no I’m fine! Everything’s great, why do you ask?”

Eda narrowed her eyes. She took a good look at her, giving off a mostly unconvinced expression.

“Don’t play dumb with me kid,” said Eda. “Don’t think I don’t know when somethings bothering you. So what is it? Need me to terrorize some bullies?”

“What?! No, it's nothing like that…”

Luz sighed as her anxiety seemed to grow. Eda realized that joking around wasn’t going to help the situation. She patted the spot next to her on the couch and Luz took a seat. As she sat down, Eda roughed up her hair a little.

“So then what's on your mind?”

Luz pouted a little as she continued to fidget, trying to find the right words.

“So… I may or may not be going on a date with someone….”

“Is it Amity?”

“Yeah, it's Ami-” a look of confusion came across Luz’s face. “Wait, how did you know that?”

Eda nonchalantly pulled out a crumpled, torn up piece of paper and handed it to Luz. The paper was pink and it read “Luz, will you go to Grom with me? -Amity”. After reading it, her mouth was agape.

“WHERE DID YOU FIND THIS!?!”

“.....On the ground.”

Luz hid her face in her hands, trying to contain her embarrassment.

“I would have said something earlier, but I felt it would be better for her to tell you how she feels rather than me. Also its hilarious to see how bad she is at dropping hints.”

Luz pouted again while giving Eda an annoyed glare.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself.”

Luz let out a long sigh as she leaned back on the couch, looking up to the ceiling.

“I can’t believe how clueless I am,” Luz whispered to herself. “I’ve never been on a date, what do people even do on them?”

“I think it's not so much as what you do but more how you do it that matters.”

A ponderous look came over Luz’s face.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, being a somewhat old witch I’ve been on my fair share of dates. Most of them were terrible, but one thing I found that always helps is that regardless of what you have planned for the date. Try to be considerate of the other person. I mean, you are going on a date for a reason.”

Luz nodded inquisitively, taking in Eda’s supposedly experienced advice. While it didn’t help her come up with an idea for the date, it gave her a better idea of how to approach it. She slumped her head back in exhaustion.

“But what if I mess something up, or just act weird?”

“Luz,” said Eda with a bit more comforting tone. “You like this girl right?”

Luz replied with a confident nod.

“And this girl likes you, right?”

She nodded again.

“Then you don’t need to worry. As long as she likes you for the way you are, you’ve got nothing to worry about. You’ll be fine. I promise.”

Luz composed herself, taking a deep breath. She smiled again, with a tinge of uncertainty still behind it.

“Thanks, Eda.”

She hugged her in her usual surprise hug technique. Eda smiled, patting her back.

“I know you’ll do great. Heck, with the moves you pulled on Grom Night I’m practically certain of it.”

Luz’s confidence seemed to slowly return. Her initial fear began to slowly turn into excitement. Rather than fearing what could go wrong, she started to think of how much fun tomorrow night was going to be. Now ideas started to flow through her mind, what could be a fun way to have a first date. Then she had an idea.

“I have an idea!”

Luz darted over to a pile of paper on the floor. She grabbed a nearby pencil and started sketching.

Just then, Lilith and King walked into the room. Lilith noticed Luz sketching and looked confused while King joined alongside her, sketching stick figures.

“I thought spell practice was over for today,” said Lilith with a yawn.

“It is, Luz is just making some plans for a date.”

“Wait!” yelled King as he stopped drawing. “For real!? Who is it with?  Actually no, that doesn’t matter. Whoever it is, their gonna have an awesome time. I just know it!”

Luz tilted her head to the side playfully.

“Aw shucks.”

“Tell me one thing,” said King. “Does your date involve demon summoning by any chance? If it doesn’t, it really should.”

Eda came over and poked King on the nose. He scrambled on the floor as he started to slip on the paper.

“I think that's enough questions for today,” said Eda crossing her arms.

“Well, I can definitely say I’m surprised,” said Lilith, attempting to be caring.

Eda gave her an unimpressed glare as Lilith shrugged off the whole thing. As Lilith made her way back up the stairs, Eda decided to sit with King and Luz.

“Alright kid, let's see what you’ve got.”

“Yeah, let's see it!”

Another feeling of comfort came to Luz, knowing she has friends and family who have her back. Even if it's for something small like preparing for a first date. She started to lay out her papers.

“Alright, here's my idea…..”

[marzeline]

So i heard y’all like religious symbolism in She Ra, so i decided to offer my own knowledge from 17 years spent in a very strict Orthodox household.

I’m gonna talk particularly about one specific moment in “Save the Cat” because I haven’t seen anyone pointing it out before.

When I was first watching this episode, devastated and overwhelmed by emotions, I still felt a bit of a... déjà vu? I have definitely seen these images before, but where? And then it hit me.

Everywhere. I have seen these scenes all my life. Glorified them even. Let me give you a little bit of context...

My family (and my country predominantly) is part of the Christian Eastern-Orthodox Church. The western world is not that familiar with this specific part of the church, but it’s basically presented as Christianity as it was preached in the beginning. In 1054, the East-West Schism happened, when the institution of the Church and Religion as a whole split into the Catholic Church and the Eastern Orthodox Churches. It happened from various reasons like changes in the doctrine and political reasons but I will not go into details here.

Since their departure, the Catholic and Orthodox Church developed even more differences - one of them being the decoration of the church.

While Catholics use mainly statues and mosaic, Orthodox practice allows the use of only icons (there is no exact term in English from what I have found, but think Icoană in Romanian or Икона in Russian), which are basically pictures.

And you have probably seen pictures or icoane as well - here is an widely used image in the western world of Jesus Christ

The images that you’re used to seeing have realistic details, but this isn’t what I’m used to seeing. Because in the Eastern Church, we use the byzantine style of art (Greek), the one used in the old times. The artist’s goal isn’t to portray the characters and scenes realistically, but to have a symbolic sketch that dehumanizes them (ig you won’t look at an icon and fall in love with the face, you won’t be distracted by earthly things).

With this out of the way, let me show you what I meant when I said I have seen those scenes before. There are 3 of them, the last one being the most important, and while you can find so many other icons, these are the few that I have selected:

Now here me out: Jesus is Great. My views on religion have changed a lot, but I still think Jesus was the greatest man to ever live. His lessons were revolutionary at the time, and his teachings are still passed on.

In Orthodox traditions, we believe God has three personas that are different and independent, but one in God: The Father, The Son and The Holy Spirit. The Church is raising you as a family, with the priest addressing the community as “brothers and sisters (in Christ)” and we pray to our divine Father.

Now let me tell you why I have selected these specific icons: The Baptize of Christ, Jesus saving Adam from Eternal Damnation, The Apostle and Jesus AND the last one that I’m gonna talk about a little bit later.

In scene one, we see Catra coming with the clones. Her hair is wet and later we find out that she has been “purified”. When undergoing this same process, Horde Prime told Hordak that his fault was his pride: how dare he think he is worthy to stand besides Horde Prime, Hordak was a mere clone created “in his image”

“So God created man in His own image” Genesis 1:27

Hordak forgotten who he is. He shall be reminded.

The Orthodox Church has 7 great rituals, but the most important ones are considered the Baptize, the Eucharist and The Ceremony that you undergo at Death.

Let’s talk about the Baptize because they look wildly similar to me. We believe that everyone is born carrying the original sin - that’s why it doesn’t matter how good of the person you were during your life, you go to Hell. But when Jesus came to Earth, He taught us how to be baptized in the name of the Lord. The process of The Baptize reclaims you as one of Lord’s sheeps and saves your soul (doesn’t guarantee you’re going to Heaven either; just opens the possibility). It purifies you of the original sin and makes you reborn, ready to join the big family that is the Church. Sounds familiar?

The Symbol of the Baptize is easy to spot, definetly out there for a reason, a scary, twisting interpretation of a ritual that is viewed as sacred by the community.

Catra kneels 2 times in front of Horde Prime. The second time she does it in Adoration at HP’s altar, when she is brought for Adora to see (see the first image), but the first time she does it when she is brought defiant after helping Glimmer escape. That’s the moment of her Judgement.

In the second image, Prime is holding her hand and Catra lovingly accepts it while being raised from the ground. It’s sickening to see because you know the character, you know her desires and history and holding HP’s hand while being embraced by him doesn’t really hit her persona.

Now let’s look at this in detail again

Here is the moment when Jesus, dead, is lowering to Hell (like I said, before Jesus, no one could go to Heaven) to save the worthy ones (like Abraham and David and Adam - the first man, the one that lived almost 1000 years). Yes, Adam sinned in the Eden, but in the Bible we’re being told that he had lived a righteous life overall. Adam was a good man and he deserved to go to Heaven after he died. But he didn’t, so Jesus could come and free him. He raises him from Hell and saves him. Heaven is now opened for Adam. HP is doing the same for Catra here.

And last, but certainly not least, we have the third image. I have rewatched this episode so many times since its release and I always, always stop at that scene with my blood frozen in my veins. The resemblance it’s terrifying. That frame alone, shows you every Christian’s biggest dream. Jesus and the Apostle. You being saved. God accepting you. Loving you even. It doesn’t matter how much you love God, He always loves you more. How could you not stare in adoration? All your adoration will never be enough for He is just That Great.

Catra does it, the clones do it, and we do it as well - we’re content being in His Graces. I don’t think I will ever be able to explain how much that scene scares me. Because we, as the audience, know that is wrong. That is not Catra. She’s so many people’s favorite character for a reason! She’s obnoxious and loud and mischievous and disrespectful and cunning and fast and mean but caring and she loves Adora! We know that and we expect to see that every time she’s on the screen. Seeing the complete opposite of her... is wrong.

“Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” Matthew 19:14

The last icon: the one where Jesus greets the kids into his arms and promises them heaven and peace. That is how the clones and the ones being chipped are looking at HP. This is what they think they will find under his protection. Spinerella always mentions how happy they are under his rule and Catra?

“My place is with Horde Prime, I don’t want to leave”

“Prime has given me peace. Something you could never do.”

“Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have access by faith into his grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God.” Romans 5:1-2

I’m gonna tell you from my own experience: I came out as bisexual to my mother (who is definitely the most religious person you’re ever gonna meet) at 13. She wasn’t mad. She tried to deny it but I stopped her cold. You know what she said? I will pray for you. Everyone has their own stuggles and the devil tempts us in many ways. You’ll have to fight these urges all your life and never act on them, but you’ll be rewarded. You will find peace in God.

For my mother, God is the giver of peace and my attraction to the same gender is what actually troubles me. My struggle is because of my sins.

I’m sure that conversation remained forgotten in her memory, but I will never be able to forget it. For the Church (Horde Prime here representing organized religion) homosexuals are sad, confused and unhappy - because they don’t know the peace of the Lord. No one can be happy, if not in the light of Horde Prime God.

I don’t know if there is ever gonna be a time in my life when that scene won’t terrify me. It’s reminding me of everything that I was for others, for everything that I thought I wanted for myself. At 14 I would wake up praying to be killed just so I can die in God’s light before sinning. Catra is also a victim of abuse, and you could never never never understand what is that about unless you have experienced it first hand. In the episode she is being mind-controlled, not far from others have experienced due to indoctrination. But to be so codependent, to Adora first (and probably always - that’s just how childhood trauma works) Shadow Weaver and then to HP?

This breaks my heart in so many places, but it also gives me hope. You can still get the chip out. You can still open your eyes. And you can still love! There is no fear in love.

[hellas-himself]

More Than Enough

Remember that self indulgent crack ship holiday fic I was writing about Cassian and Feyre? And how I couldn’t seem to mix the past with the present? 

It’s a fic now. Still in the same AU just like... the year before. Leading up to the cheesy ass nonsense it is now. Originally it was going to be angsty at first but I think we have enough of that in our real life. If you haven’t read the crackship holidays featuring these two dumbasses, start here or on AO3.

Also. I promise all my other fics are not being abandoned. 

I’ve had a playlist to listen to when writing them but it is so incredibly inappropriate if you understand spanish. and i haven’t made it onto spotify yet. But this song reminded me of them and that’s where the title comes from. Which is funny because Alina is who i put beside Toni Mafud as Rhys and Feyre whenever fan casts come up. ANYWAY. 

Let’s follow Feyre as she thirsts after her best friend. 

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I blame it on the music.

Cassian lost his shirt about half an hour ago and is doing pull ups. The garage door is open, letting in the cold winter air. My fingers are cold but I don’t like wearing gloves when sketching. I had been working on hands and eyes but once he tossed his shirt… It’s not like I’ve never seen Cassian without a shirt on before. Between him and his brothers, they seem to always find an excuse to not wear one. But the difference is I don’t find myself daydreaming about what it would be like to run my fingers down their backs.

It’s definitely the music.

Even if I didn’t understand the words, the beat itself is way too sensual to not be about anything else but sex. But the lyrics and Cassian’s sweaty, half naked body mixed with the fact that I haven’t had sex in months is probably the worst mix. I am not supposed to be imagining sleeping with my best friend.

I clear my throat, startling Valo who was falling asleep at my feet.

“Sorry, baby, I need a drink.”

I set my sketch book and pencil down on the crate beside my chair.

“Would you get me a drink, bunny?” Cas breathes out and my face flushes all the more. I didn’t need another detail to this stupid daydream.

“Yeah,” I squeak and head into the house. I already know his post workout drink recipe by heart. I drink ice cold water while the blender is going.

Cassian is suspended in the air, holding his entire body parallel to the floor with his hands. Goddamn him. He drops his head back so that he’s looking at me upside down and he smiles.

“I love you,” he says and I roll my eyes.

“I’ll love you more if you don’t bust your ass.”

He chuckles and just to drive the nail in the coffin that is my desire to be the reason he’s making noises like that, he slowly lowers his body and resumes his pull ups. I set his cup on the table where he has his tools and go back to sit down.

Cassian drops down and walks over to his mat to do his cool down stretches. A new song comes on and the words are so filthy that I find myself staring at him. His tattoos. My ex-boyfriend had always believed I was into Cassian- and I wasn’t. But I wasn’t blind and I’ve been at his house almost every single day since Thanksgiving- he is always without a shirt.

It’s just the music.

“Plan on drawing me?” Cassian asks and I blink. I look away from his tattooed chest and to his face. He is smirking. Shit.

“Uh. Yeah. What better way to do anatomy studies than with a living reference?”

“Anatomy, huh?”

He flashes me a grin before he walks over to the table for his drink.

“Hey, what do you want for dinner?”

His question distracts me from looking at his ass.

“Uh, whatever you want… I’m not really craving anything.” Except you. I sigh and cover my face with my hands and lean over. I need a cold shower.

“Hey… You alright?” he asks softly.

I nod and slowly sit upright.

“I’m just… I’m fine. I promise.”

He doesn’t believe me but he walks over to grab his speaker.

“I love this song,” he says and starts to sing along to it as he gratefully goes back into the house.  

Cassian meets me in the living room now dressed in a white tee and grey sweatpants. He lifts both my legs up so that he can sit down. This is normal. I always use his lap to rest my legs.

“I ordered Greek, I hope you don’t mind.”

“I told you, I’m not craving anything except-”

Fuck my entire life. Cassian raises a brow and I toss him the remote.

“Why don’t we finish your show so then we can watch my movie?”

This pacifies him and thankfully, his stupid show is so violent and bloody that all thoughts of fucking my best friend fade from my mind.

*

Our annual Christmas party is tonight and I’ve found an outfit. It is the kind of outfit Tamlin would have told me not to wear. It’s blood red and insanely inappropriate for winter with its spaghetti straps and super low neckline. Mor says it’s the perfect thing to wear after a break up and just the thought of all the pictures we’ll take with me and Cassian together makes me believe it.

I hang the dress up in the closet of Cassian’s bedroom. The heels are set beside his dress shoes and I can’t help but think about his reaction. Of dancing with him all night and coming back here and-

“Bunny!” 

“I’m in the closet!”

I hear him chuckle. 

“Shut up,” I call out and walk into the bedroom to find him pulling off his shirt. I feel my face go hot.

“I’m going to shower… do you want me to use the other bathroom?” 

“What? No, this is your house,” I say far more casually than I feel. “Besides, we’ve got time, we can share.” 

I want to punch myself in the face. Cassian starts to grin. 

“The shower might be a little too small for the both of us but I’m sure we could find a way to-”

Cassian laughs when I smack his arm. 

“Not exactly where I like being spanked but I’ll take it.”

“Oh my god, Cassian.”

He laughs and disappears into the bathroom. I force myself to leave the room when I hear the water.  

*

Cassian walks into the kitchen in nothing but a towel, his hair wet, water dripping down his chest. He walks over and takes the sandwich from my hands.

“Fuck, we’re out of beer,” he mutters as he opens the fridge. I grab the second sandwich I made, expecting him to steal from my plate and force my gaze up. On his stupidly gorgeous face.

“I can go get some,” I say but he shakes his head and walks over to take my cup of iced tea.

“Are you cool with us taking a cab tonight?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess.” 

Cassian drinks from my cup and sets it down before pinching my cheek. 

“It’ll just be you and me,” he says softly. “So don’t worry about it.”

I blush at this and Cassian kisses my forehead. 

“I’m gonna go get dressed. Thanks for the snack,” he says with a wink and walks away.

*

I keep my makeup rather muted; lip gloss and the usual winged liner. Nude eyeshadow. Cassian picked out the highlight and I have to admit, he chose well. My hair isn’t going to get any better, so I leave it in loose waves rather than the curls I’d wanted. I’ll leave that to Mor. I feel nervous, this is the first time since the breakup that I’m going out with all of our friends but Cassian will be there, and that’s enough to ease my nerves. Almost.  

“Our ride is here,” Cas says as he walks into his bedroom. He stops and just stares. I approach him and hold out my ID card and debit card, needing to ignore the way his attention has me feeling.

“I don’t have pockets.”

“What?” He blinks and looks down at my hand. He laughs and pulls his wallet out. “You only need your ID.”

“Maybe so,” I say and reach out to smooth down the collar of his shirt while he puts my cards away. I remember my lip gloss and put it in his back pocket, giving him a wink.

Cassian holds my hand when we go outside, helping me down the steps and the driveway. It’s a regular occurrence, but I blush when he opens the door for me. And when he slides an arm around my shoulders when he sits down beside me. We take a bunch of pictures and call Cassian’s parents to check on Val- as if we hadn’t seen him an hour ago. 

When we get to the club, Cassian holds my hand as we walk inside. Cassian and the boys are all friends with the owner, so we get to skip the line.

“Where are we going?” I ask as Cassian leads us up to the VIP lounge.

“Meeting up with Rhys.”

“What’s he doing up here?”

Cassian chuckles. “You know Rhys never passes a chance to be extra as fuck.”

I can’t argue with that.

Upstairs, Cassian helps me out of my coat. His fingers brush my skin and my mind takes a swan dive into the gutter.

“What do you say to a few drinks before we go downstairs?” he asks as he takes my hand. The bouncer outside the lounge acknowledges us with a nod.

“Yeah, I could use it.”

Cassian flashes me a grin and then opens the door.

“SURPRISE!” Everyone shouts and I find all of our friends standing under a Happy Birthday banner.

I am at a loss for words and Cassian laughs, bringing me further into the room. I’d completely forgotten about my birthday, I hadn’t cared enough to even think that anyone else would. But Elain is here with Az. So is Rhys and Lucien, Amren, Varian. Viv and Kallias, too. I’m separated from Cassian as I’m hugged and kissed by everyone. I realize Tarquin and Cresseida are here as well. Rhys is the one who breaks open the first bottle and we all stand around the little table to take shots.

“There is a cake,” Elain says as she hands me another shot. “But that’s later.”

“Later?”

She winks at me and shouts for Azriel.

“That’s my favorite song!” she exclaims and her husband happily ditches his brothers to go out and dance with his wife.

Lucien and Rhys pull me in for another hug as the others begin to trail down to the dance floor.

“You look good enough to eat,” Lucien mumbles and I laugh.

“Don’t tell me you’re already drunk, Luce.”

“We may have pregamed at the house,” Rhys admits. “But we took an uber! It’s okay.”

I roll my eyes.

“You both suck. I’m going to go find me two other cute boys to dance with. Boys who would have invited me to pregame with them and no amount of flirting is going to fix that.”

They begin to whine and I laugh, holding onto Rhysand’s forearms as they keep me caged between them.

“Alright! You win!” I say with a laugh and look over to find Cassian looking my way. He smiles.

I want to ask him to dance but Mor pulls him away before I can open my mouth.

We drink and dance and drink and dance and drink some more. I feel light headed and everything makes me laugh. But I haven’t danced with Cassian yet and that’s enough to dampen the mood. I push my way through the crowd until I find Cassian at the bar. I take the empty barstool beside him and sit down. I order myself a margarita before turning to face him.

“And where have you been all night?” I ask and Cassian smirks.

“Enjoying the night,” he says and takes a sip of his drink.

“Without me?”

I don’t understand the look in his eyes as he takes a sip of his drink. He sets the glass down and leans forward. I didn’t really understand just how short this dress was until he lays his hand on my thigh. If I turn my chair completely, if he moves his hand just an inch more…

“Yes,” he says and kisses me cheek. “But I think I’m about to enjoy it more now.”

“Why?” I manage to say. Cassian’s hand brushes my thigh as he sits upright.

“I’m about to go dance with my best friend.”

“Are you now?”

My drink is set before me and I grab it, chugging it down as Cassian slides off his chair. He turns mine so that I’m facing him completely and puts his hands on my hips.

“If she says yes, of course.”

I finish the last of my drink and set down the glass.

“When have I ever said no to you?”

Cassian grins.

I have danced with Cassian many times. At parties, at the beach, at clubs and bars and festivals. At his parents’ house. I should be used to the feeling of his body against mine, of his hands on me while we dance but not like this. I want nothing more than to take him back up to the lounge and push him down on the sofa or go find an empty bathroom stall.

But I don’t.

Birthday cake and alcohol isn’t the best mix, but I haven’t felt this alive in months. My face hurts from laughing, from smiling. My vision is spotty from all the pictures we’ve taken but I don’t care. Everything is right in the world.

“My feet hurt,” I complain and sit on Cassian’s lap.

“Want me to rub your feet?”

I shake my head and lean into him.

“No. Not until I’m showered.”

He laughs. “Okay.”

I sigh when he wraps his arms around me. He is so warm and smells so good, I want to stay this way forever.

“I think the birthday girl is done for the night,” Rhys says teasingly and I realize I was dozing off. I look up to see Rhys standing there with a stupid smirk on his face.

“Fuck you,” I say and curl up in Cassian’s arms. I feel his hand holding my dress down from showing everyone else my ass.

“Tempting,” Rhys says and then shoves his hands in his pockets. “But I think I’ll pass.”

I don’t think much of the look Rhys gives Cassian in favor of playing with his hair. I take way too much satisfaction in the knowledge that not everyone gets to do this, and that he enjoys it. Cassian seems to win whatever silent staring contest he and Rhys were having and Rhys rolls his eyes and goes after his boyfriend.

“You’re making me sleepy, bunny.”

“Good thing we’re going home together then,” I say before my mind catches up. But Cassian only chuckles and hugs me a little closer.

*

Cassian and I are a laughing mess as we stumble into the house. I lean on him to step out of my heels and he laughs as I shrug off my coat and toss it at him. We’re both trying to catch our breath, and I swat his hand away when he tries to tickle me again.

“I’m taking a shower,” I breathe out and walk off but he stops me.

“Wait,” he says and I turn to find him smiling.

“What?”

“Happy birthday,” he says softly and pulls me in for a hug. “I promise I’ll make you breakfast in the morning.”

“Hm… you really know the way to a girl’s heart, Cas.”

He pinches my side and I yelp.

“Go shower,” he says and kisses the top of my head.

“I won’t be long.”

My shower is clumsy and not at all relaxing. My feet hurt. So I put lotion on my body and grab the bottle of perfume that is on the dresser, except it’s not perfume but cologne. I shrug and put on Cassian’s Nirvana tee shirt and double check I actually have underwear on before I go looking for him.

“Cas?” The house is dark save for the light coming from his room. “My feet fucking hurt.”

He says something but I don’t understand it. His room is open and I step inside, finding him lying on his bed. He’s got basketball shorts on and his hair is loose.

“Bunny!” he says as if he hadn’t seen me all day. “I almost busted my ass in the shower.”

“Me, too.” I say with a laugh. “Maybe we should’ve showered together. It would’ve been safer that way.”

“I like the way you think, Archeron.”

He holds his hand out to me and when I’m close enough, he pulls me into bed with him. “You smell good.”

I snort. “I smell like you.”

“Exactly.”

I swat his arm but he ignores it, putting his arms around me.

“My feet hurt,” I complain, hoping he’ll make good on his promise.

“Just stay here,” he says simply.

My heart stops and starts too fast.

“Like… sleep here?” I ask too quietly.

“Mhm.” He goes quiet for a moment and then groans. “I forgot to turn the light off.”

“I can do it,” I say.

“No… Stay here.”

He goes quiet once more, and I let myself relax. We haven’t shared a bed since we were kids, playing video games until Adela would force us to go to bed. I smile at the thought and rest my head against his chest.

“Goodnight, Cas,” I say quietly, my eyes getting heavy.

“Goodnight, bunny,” he says and lets me go to stretch. Then he wraps his arms around me again and moves us so that we’re on our sides. He presses a kiss to my forehead and I close my eyes, letting the warmth of him lull me to sleep.

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@mythicaitt @bookloveaffair @nalgenewhore @candid-confetti 

[okamigekidoo]

Review under “keep reading” section. 

Guess what everyone? Sam (my custom suit of my fursona) is DONE!!!! I originally didn’t plan on there being whiskers buttt....the maker said it would look super cute on her, and finish them off. So...I said yes! I also love seeing peoples interpretations of my characters, and I love seeing the implementations of my style the maker used, to give my fursona yet another touch of myself in the creation process. 

(The shape of the ears, the big teeth, and the snout spots where the whiskers are. Lets not even talk about how much I ADORE the seperate, round eyebrows on the suit!!!)

The work they did is absolutely phenomenal, and I cant WAIT to get em in the mail. I feel like I could talk all day long, about how much I LOVE the outcome, and how kind the maker was. 

I’ll leave a little review under the cut here, as it’s more simple to read, than watching my video on it!

Who is the fursuit maker? The fursuit maker is @/frouzon ! His commissions are currently closed, but I believe he’s opening back up sometime in early 2021 for more commissions, but don’t hold me to it!

Waiting times? I was originally given a wait period for roughly 4 to 5 months, but due to covid, and personal life occurrences, I waited for 9 months or so (and still counting as of this minute! Sam has still gotta have a finishing touch done and to be shipped < 3

Durability? Frouzon sent me a video of him holding the suit by its teeth, and then it’s ears, and slung Sam around. The suit didn’t seem to be bothered one bit, and most of his sowing on the head, is done by hand, I believe. (I also believe he not only sows, but glues the head to the base, and the sows part of the fur, to the base itself.) I also watched him pick it up, as if there was no worry in the world of how he picked it up. It shows he has no doubt about the quality and durability behind hs work, and that in itself is a very comforting thing to see (as, many of you may know, a custom suit is NOT cheap)

Communication and customer service? Oh my GOD where do I even begin? This makers utmost best quality, is their communication. Something came up, that may halt fursuit making? Cool! He tells us what's going on, and roughly how long the wait will be. You want to add something, or change something? Awesome! He responds fast, and answers all the questions you’ve got. He even compensated for the waiting time, by throwing in some free eyelids, that I was gonna purchase from him to make! This may sound strange but-it’s almost like talking to a close friend, weirdly enough! I’ve never felt as comfortable with someone I was commissioning, than when working with Frouzon. Maybe it’s just his vibe, I’m really not sure-but what I AM sure of, is that when it comes to finishing a full body suit? I know EXACTLY who I’m going to. My mom might even be getting a suit from him, isn’t that cool?

Style? I really believe the suit matches the style of the prototype sketch I was given. Of course you cant expect it to look exactly the same, but I was definitely given the gist of what this sketch represented when I initially commissioned him. I adore the way he emphasized on the big ears, toony eyes, and big maws-it’s the main features of my fursona so I’m glad to see them represented so perfectly!

Price? Dude, I’m gonna be real-you get MORE than what you pay for. His prices are rather cheap for the quality, look, and finish for these suits. One of the reasons I was attracted to said suit maker’s, style-was because of the “affordability” that came along with it. (Also, can you please go look at their bird suits? If I had an avian sona I promise you he is the first person I would book it after, I’m not even kidding) You can check out his prices here, and take a look for yourself! Fursuit commissioners will get why I say he’s on the more afforable side of the spectrum. His kindness is proven through a statement I believe he said, where his prices were lower to make suits more affordable to those who really want one. Which that is the SWEETEST shit I’ve ever read. Not only is it considerate of those less fortunate in the fandom, but it makes the pure kindness of this maker more apparent than you could even fathom. 

Security, and Quoting? Quoting was very simple to do. I DM’ed him, we went through a few ideas, and he continued to give me prices for what I asked for (and lemme just say he was very patient with me, and I was very indecisive). In the final decision, I was sent a legal document which we both signed, stating his TOS, and everything to expect. It had a few other things on it, but I don’t think it’s quite my place to share such a document. I believe things like that are more personal! 

Links:

Frouzon//TWS Telegram channel: https://web.telegram.org/#/im?p=@FrouzonUpdates

Trello List: https://trello.com/b/6StKU6R0/threads-workshop-queue

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Frouzon’s Twitter:https://twitter.com/frouzon?ref_src=twsrc%5Egoogle%7Ctwcamp%5Eserp%7Ctwgr%5Eauthor

TWS Twitter: https://twitter.com/TWS_Fursuits

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (paul/gene, nc-17) (part 19 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29

Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic.  In this chapter:  Paul has a nightmare and finally starts to confess to Gene. (Yes, there’s finally some smut again.) (Author’s note 6/24/2020: Smut has been revised! Thighsex imminent.)

           In his dreams Paul was always himself. Sometimes he was eight years old, in the school playground, hearing his classmates singsong "Stanley the one-eared monster" to the tune of Rudolph, and sometimes the classmates would turn into a whole stadium full of people, thousands, cackling and pointing, while he stood onstage and couldn't say a word. Sometimes he was his own age, walking off a plane, or at a photoshoot, stripped down and bare-faced and afraid as soon as the cameras started.

           That night he was seventeen again. He knew because the T.V. was on in the living room, Neil Armstrong on the screen in all his astronaut garb, sticking the flag up on the Moon's rocky soil. Julia was there, for once, sitting beside him on the couch.

           "Do you think it's real?" she said, and he looked at her, disgusted.

           (of course it's real)

           "Do you think it's real?" she repeated, and he thought she must not have heard him. He put his hand to his face, touching the start of his sideburns—something new he was trying, something he'd need to shave before school started back up, but for now, it was cool. He'd seen them on rockstars, but rarely in person, and never on someone he knew, until that guy he'd met a month back. Gene. But Gene was too fat in the face to pull the look off. They would look better on him, once they grew out.

           (it's got to be real. why would they waste all that time and money on something that wasn't real? why would they be so stupid?)

           "You tell me," Julia said, and her face and build shifted, dark hair bleaching out to light brown, pockmarks and freckles sketching across her face, Carol's face, Carol's voice now, Carol's hand reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Why don't you tell me, Stan?"

         (i don't—)

        Another shift. Carol's face melted down, skull pushing outward, hair going shaggy and wild. Her nose forced out and flattened all at once, muzzle emerging. A lion's face on a man's body, a man's voice coming through its throat.

           "Are you going to tell me?"

         (please)

          (please, take it off, i'm sorry—i'm so sorry—)

           "Is it real?"

          (please)

        (what're you saying, i don't understand)

           "Is love real, Stan?" Marbas' voice was oddly soft as he curled his hand around Paul's suddenly much more narrow shoulder. Tapped it, then Marbas' still-human fingers moved to trace the sides of his smooth, bare face. "Or—let's put it differently. What she felt for you, was that love?"

           (i)

            (i don't think you can love someone you don't know)

           But you've made your fortune pretending." Marbas' lips pulled back, revealing teeth as long as his thumbs. "And so has he."

          (he?)

           "The man in your bed." The demon pushed Paul's hair behind his left ear. "I've cursed greater men than you. Byron. Shelley. More. Watching you was hardly entertaining in comparison, until he came along."

         (don't hurt him)

          (please don't—)

           "Do you really love him, Stan?" Marbas didn't give him time to answer, tugging at a curl, longer now than it had been minutes before. Paul couldn't feel a centimeter of what was happening to him, could barely do more than watch and breathe as his body warped before him. "Why? Because he was kind to you?"

          (i don't know)

           "Because he had the qualities you lacked? Or because you didn't believe he'd want you?"

          (i don't know!)

           The demon wasn't letting the point go. Neil Armstrong still in the background, the sound of the T.V. tinny. His shoes off to the side on the dirty carpet. The plugged-in fan on the coffee table. Everything, everything the same in that little apartment but him.

           "You won't tell me. You won't tell him. What I wrought on you really makes no difference." Marbas touched the center of chest, full and heavy before the demon even moved his finger towards it, and Paul realized, just from what he could see of his body, that he was still seventeen after all. The weight he'd had back then was there, the stomach flab, the too-thick thighs. Every bit of him dumpy and unattractive, no definition, nothing worth wanting. "Even if you'd always had this form, you'd have kept your silence. You'd never have given yourself up."

          (i can't, i just can't—)

           "Then you want to remain as you are?" The demon's mouth twitched again; he seemed almost to smile, fingers toying with Paul's shirt.

          (of course not!)

          (you don't understand!)

           "Paul? Paul, wake up."

           He opened his eyes. Gene was there, leaning over him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a book and a newspaper on the other side of the bed. Gene had stayed with him.

           "What time is it?"

           "Noon. Are you okay?"

           Paul nodded, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. Looking down, he realized he was still in last night's dress. The nightie's straps beneath it, amazingly, had stayed in place, though the sleeves of the dress had slid a bit. He swallowed, the memories of the night prior trickling in like a drizzle before a thunderstorm, replacing the fragments of his dream, and tugged the sleeves back up to his shoulder.

           "Did I say anything strange?"

           "You were getting kind of twitchy."

           A glance at the kicked-askew bedsheets told Paul that was an understatement.

           "I'm sorry."

           "No, I'm sorry. I should have stopped you."

           "From kicking in my sleep?"

           "From leaving last night."

           Paul looked over at him.

           "What could you have done? Chased down my car?"

           "I could've grabbed you when you were going out the door." Gene grabbed the book—it was one of his old self-help numbers from high school—and set it on the nightstand, possibly the only attempt at putting something away that Paul had ever seen out of him. "Or I could've done what you wanted. It's my fault."

           "It's not your fault at all. You got me out of there." Paul shifted until he was on his side. "If it hadn't been for you, I…"

           "Mary-Anne was taking care of you."

           "She… she was, wasn't she? She must've thought I was so stupid." He shook his head. "I don't know how you knew where to look for me."

           "I didn't. It was just a guess."

           "I shouldn't have gone off. I guess I wanted to… I don't know what I wanted." Paul paused. "I'm okay. I promise."

           "Are you sure nothing—"

           "Nothing happened." Paul tried to smile, weakly. "I wouldn't still be in this shape if something had."

           "If anybody touched you, then—"

           "It's fine. I'm fine."

           "Paul, you're not fine." Gene swallowed. "Somebody spiked your drink."

           Paul didn't answer for a long moment.

           "Nobody spiked my drink."

           "What?"

           "I said nobody spiked my drink. I took the 'ludes myself."

           He didn't want to look Gene in the face. He didn't want to see the disappointment and disgust there, now that he knew that Paul had drugged himself when he was already in danger. That he hadn't been innocent. That had to have done it for Gene. Wrecked any chance of leftover fondness or want.

           "Why?"

           "Because I couldn't stand the thought of fucking some random guy sober." Paul exhaled. "I didn't realize I couldn't stand the thought of fucking him trashed, either."

           "Paul—"

           "It's okay, all right?"

           He was surprised when Gene gathered him up in his arms. His breaths hitched, all of him just tightening, tightening up at first. Gene almost let go then, but then Paul grabbed him, burying his face against Gene's neck.

           He didn't deserve that kind of comfort out of Gene after what he'd done. Worrying Gene. Risking his own safety. He knew it, but that didn't make him any less greedy for it. He remembered, in blurred-out fragments, Gene's hold on him in CBGB last night, Gene's arm around him in the limo. Gene wiping his face off with the towel. He remembered leaning into all that warmth, too 'luded out to even quite understand it, only recognize that it was there for him, despite everything.

           Hopeless. So hopeless. But he kept holding on anyway, grateful, pathetically grateful, holding on longer than he should have, breathing in the scent of Gene's skin. Closer than he'd ever let himself get before. Closer, maybe, than he'd ever get again. Gene hadn't even gotten dressed yet, was still in his boxers, and his bare arms around him felt so good, so reassuring, it almost hurt. Paul shut his eyes and peeled himself away, not wanting to wait for Gene to let go first.

           "It's really… it's okay."

           And then he got up. He felt more clearheaded than he'd expected. Peter had told him 'ludes kept him from waking up with a hangover after a night of partying, but he'd never really believed him until now. Except for the acrid taste of vomit and morning breath still in his mouth, he felt… bizarrely enough, he almost felt refreshed, physically. He crossed over to the master bathroom, brushing his teeth and gargling with mouthwash before returning to the bedroom. He walked over to the closet door, where the other blouse and dress that he'd bought still hung from coathangers. "I… I'm gonna get dressed. Which one do you want?"

           "Paul, they're your clothes."

           Paul chewed on his lip and took the dress off its hanger, lining it up level against him. The hem fell two or three inches above his knee. He turned around, dress in hand, and started to head back to the bathroom, but Gene spoke again before he got there.

           "Don't wear things just because you think I'll like them."

           "I'm not."

           "Paul." Gene got up from the bed. "I gave it a lot of thought last night. I haven't helped you out like I needed to."

           "Gene, all you've done is help me out."

           "I've hurt your self-respect. I told you what to do. I made you dependent on me."

           "I was depending on you way before this. You just didn't realize it."

           "Not that way." Gene walked up to him. Paul draped the dress over one arm like a waiter's napkin. "I made you feel like you had to—to wear things, to do things, to keep my attention. I never should've—"

           "That's not true."

           "Yeah, it is. Last night, before you left…" Gene's gaze lowered to the floor before lifting back to meet Paul's. "I didn't know why you were acting like that. I'd thought you wanted me."

           There it was. There it was, closer than Paul had ever dared to put it himself. There was his chance. He could shut it all down right now, seal off any hope of Gene ever getting close enough to hurt again, do what last night had, somehow, failed to manage. Drive Gene away with an assurance that what he'd done, he'd done out of practicality. Tell Gene he'd used him all the way around, that every flirt, every kiss, had just been a means to an end. Lie to him the way he couldn't lie to himself.

           He had to struggle to keep looking Gene in the eye. The nerves that the Quaaludes and drinks had destroyed were all back again; he was keenly, so keenly aware of what he stood to lose. Gene's expression was guilty, almost penitent, and that hurt, too, but—maybe there was something past that. Maybe there was still some desire left in him. Maybe, even, if it wasn't the same as what Paul felt, it would still be okay. Paul wanted to believe that. He took a breath, and said three words.

           "You weren't wrong."

           "What?"

           "I did want you."

           "C'mon, Paul. You know my ego could use a little knocking down."

           "I did want you. I do want you."

           "Paul—"

           It felt like he was walking through water, every movement artificially slowed down. Two steps to close in on Gene. The reach of his hand to touch Gene's face, the morning stubble he hadn't yet shaved, tugging his chin down to kiss him. Just once, quickly, softly. Gene didn't stiffen up, didn't draw back, but he didn't answer immediately, either. As he broke the kiss, looking at Gene, trying to gauge his expression, Paul realized, offhand, that he'd had to raise up on the balls of his feet just to reach him. He hadn't even noticed.

           "You're not gonna want me after. I know that."

           "I don't know that I'd say that."

           "I would." Paul's mouth crooked upward, only a little wobbly. The words seemed to spill out of him like the water from a burst dam. "That's why I acted like that. That's why I left, because I knew."

           "Paul, listen—" Gene started, but Paul cut him off.

           "It's okay. I… I haven't treated you right. You've been real good to me and I—" Paul shook his head. "Let's try, all right? If you still want to—I wanna try."

           "I—"

           "I don't think I could go all the way yet. But I wanna be with you."

           "Don't push yourself. Especially not after last night."

           "I'm not pushing myself."

           "Paul, I'm serious."

           "I'm serious, too."

           Gene didn't answer for awhile. Paul felt frozen in front of him, biting back a thousand more words, swallowing every impulse to spill his guts even further. He wouldn't hold eight years of want over Gene's head like a ransom that needed to be paid. He wouldn't beg Gene again. He wouldn't yell at him, or throw a fit. And he wouldn't—he wouldn't give himself up, any more than he had already. He couldn't.

           Gene's hand touched his cheek. He seemed to be thinking. Gene always seemed to be thinking. Paul took a few quick breaths, until Gene bent his head and met Paul's lips with his own. Warm lips he'd already half-given up on touching again. Paul kissed back hard, suddenly desperate, arms looping around the back of Gene's neck. Beyond eager, beyond grateful, wanting to erase the memory of last night on the bed. Touching him the way he'd wanted to before. Kissing him the way he'd wanted to before, the way he'd done when they were dancing. Gene's tongue was in his mouth, one hand tangling against in his hair while the other tugged him tight against him.

           Paul was getting wet, like before, trying to grind against Gene like he still had a dick, like any movement of his hips right now, standing up, was granting him half the friction it was giving Gene. Gene was tugging him backwards before long, back towards the bed. Paul let him. His whole body felt hot and just on the verge, already unraveled over so little. Gene eased him into sitting on the bed and he scooted backwards, swinging his legs across the bed.

           Gene didn't go for the zipper of his dress this time. He seemed almost cautious, only kissing him on the mouth and neck, not yet even groping his chest. Paul reached behind him, sliding the zipper down, down, sliding the dress off. More purposely exposed than Gene had seen him until now, nothing remaining but the thin, purple nightie and panties. He was trying not to squirm as he felt Gene's gaze on him, but he couldn't seem to help himself, fingers curling around the nightie's hem. When he'd put it on late yesterday afternoon, he'd realized how short it was, the hem only barely skirting the upper part of his thighs, and how the silky material strained against his breasts. It had sort of warmed him, then, made him feel a little hopeful, a little desirable. Now, he wasn't so sure.

           "Do you like it?"

           "Yeah. It looks good on you."

           "I got it for you."

           Gene hesitated.

           "That's what I mean, you don't need to wear things to—"

           "I'm not—"

           "What… what I mean is, you had my attention already."

           Paul felt the heat rise in his cheeks. He didn't know how to answer that. Gene didn't seem to be waiting on an answer, anyway, one hand sliding up his thigh, beneath the nightie, tracing the soft skin there and the spreading wetness on his panties. His other hand went for one breast, squeezing it, sending another surge of need through Paul's body. He'd tried groping his own breasts a few times, before Gene came, never getting anywhere with it. It had been about as pleasurable as rubbing a hand against his knee. But now that Gene was touching them, tweaking one already-hard nipple and then the other, Paul found himself groaning, back arching. On some level it was almost humiliating, to be crying out over so little. Gene's other hand had only barely started rubbing him through the damp fabric.

           Gene tugged Paul up on his lap before long, Paul's legs splayed on either side of him, the nightie bunched up above his hips. Gene's erection was rubbing up against him, too tantalizingly close to be avoidable now, and Paul held his breath, half-expecting Gene's slow strokes to stop entirely, but they didn't. Paul grunted a bit, tugging the elastic of Gene's boxers down just enough to free his dick.

           "Lemme suck you off," he urged, starting to scoot back, although the twitch of Gene's fingers, finally sliding beneath his panties, made it almost impossible to want to get off of him for that long. "You haven't gotten a damn thing out of this yet."

           "I don't know about that." Gene was smiling, running his fingers against his slick folds, Paul pushing his hips forward to meet them. "Just give me a hand here. I've got a great view."

           "C'mon, you… you can't just want a handjob." It had to be disappointing enough just keeping it to fooling around in the first place with him. Paul hadn't even been brave enough to take off the nightgown. Paul grasped Gene's dick anyway, almost unprompted, his own strokes firmer and more assured than he'd expected. He watched Gene take a deep breath, his cock already twitching a bit in his hand. "I've blown guys before, I'm not a virgin there—"

           "Maybe later." Gene grinned, pressed a kiss to his throat. "You know, I never actually got to see you relax the other night." His finger ran lightly across the edge of his clit, too lightly.

           "You felt it," Paul protested, distracted. It was already getting hard to concentrate. He didn't want to halfass it, especially when part of him could still barely believe it was happening at all. Especially when he knew, from rare, scattered conversations early on when they'd toured, that Gene tried to avoid masturbating much—which had always struck Paul as weird. Gene's selective orthodoxy and hang-ups were so baffling. He shifted, rolling his hips harder against Gene's fingers and hand.

           "Let me see it."

           Oh. Oh. Paul was crying out again, cursing as he tried to focus, keep a rhythm going despite his own arousal. The precome already dripping from the tip was gratifying, Gene's breaths getting ragged, but he didn't know if it was enough. Gene kept watching him, watching his face. Every high-pitched sound that came out of Paul's throat was hotly embarrassing, not in the least because Gene was quieter in comparison, while Paul's moaning was only ever covered up when his lips met Gene's. But Gene was getting less cautious now, groping his breasts beneath the nightie instead of just through it, the skin-on-skin sensation almost overwhelming. His other hand, caught between Paul's thighs, was certain, slipping along his folds, finger running small strokes against the hood and clit.

          Gene was already closer than he was. Paul could tell that by the feel of his dick in his hand, and the expressions crossing his face, making him redouble his efforts. Paul’s vision swam, his own concentration faltering far before Gene came, groaning lowly, spurting mostly in his hand and on his dick, a bit of come ending up on Paul’s bare thigh. Paul let go, bracing his damp hand on the bed, leaning forward. Gene’s own hand had gone almost still between his legs. The blissed-out look on Gene’s face almost made up for it.

          “Hey, Paul, you haven’t—” Gene started, fingers moving again, not quite as intently as before. Paul grabbed his wrist, tugging it back.

          “Wait. Let’s try something else.”

          Gene looked a little confused but moved his hand away, starting to rest it on his leg. Paul shook his head.

          “Not there. I need that.”

          “You need that?” Gene furrowing his brows post-coital would’ve been funny, if Paul wasn’t battling his own arousal. The heat was starting to rise in his cheeks as he took Gene by the wrist again, setting it on the sheets. He wasn’t quite able to look Gene in the eye again yet, so he ran his fingers against the warm, soft fabric of his boxers, rolling up the hem of one leg slightly, mouth pursed.

          “You’ll see.”

          Paul closed his eyes briefly, breaths heavy, and scooted in closer, shifting until he was straddling one of Gene’s thighs. He made only a token effort at wiping his right hand off on the sheet before clasping both hands around the back of Gene’s neck, as he started to rub himself against Gene’s leg.

          Gene’s lips parted in surprise. Unbelievably, he actually looked like he didn’t know what to do at first, hands taking awhile to find their way back to Paul, one resting on his shoulder while the other slipped back under the nightie to rove over his stomach and back up to his breasts. Pairing that with Paul’s own grinding made it all the more intense, stimulation almost overwhelming. His damp panties were barely a barrier, exactly the extra friction he needed as he rocked his hips in short, quick bursts. Every so often, his leg would brush up against Gene’s dick—still soft for now, but still its own sharp thrill. Warm. As long as he was this close, this wet, he wasn’t nearly so worried about how letting him, about how actually fucking, would end it. It was just something else spurring on his arousal, a promise of something to come.

          “You’re killing me, Paul.”

          “Yeah?” Paul’s mouth twitched into a small smile as Gene tugged him into a kiss.His legs were clamping tight around Gene’s thigh nearly of their own accord, amping up the pressure, concentrating it. Paul was panting and groaning again before long. His clit was throbbing, the wetness that had already soaked through his underwear going past it, making Gene’s bare skin and the edge of his boxers slightly slick.  Easy to push and rub up against, find the exact right rhythm to leave him breathless.

          But it wasn’t quite enough until Gene pulled him forward just a bit, just until Paul found himself panting against his neck. Paul sped up a little, hips rocking, moans and curses all he seemed able to manage as the pleasure built up, closer, closer. He realized, dimly, that he was starting to finally get used to this body, figure out what he liked now, how to get off. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, not that it mattered right now. Gene was still watching, his gaze, the unfettered, needy want there making Paul feel heady. Looking him right in the eye was better than before, better than it had been in the dark. He cried out again, sharply, as he finally came, clutching Gene hard as he rode out his orgasm. It was a few seconds before he let go, Gene’s grip on his shoulder not loosening up until Paul relaxed his legs again.

          “Gene,” he said. “That… that was good.”

          “Yeah? Good.” Gene grinned. “You look cute when you come.”

          Paul glanced down reflexively at the comment, shaking his head. The spunk on his hand and on the sheets was long since clotted up. He started to get up from Gene’s thigh, a little shakily, straightening his underwear and pushing down the nightie with his clean hand. He felt a little like apologizing—it couldn’t have been that good for Gene, who probably hadn’t had a chick stop at a handjob with him in ten years, and Paul knew he couldn’t have been that fun to watch get off, either, if only because of what it wasn’t—but Gene didn’t look unhappy with the way things had gone at all. He looked pleased, maybe almost sated, running his hand almost possessively down the wet spot Paul had left behind on his thigh and boxers, rubbing the fluid between his fingertips. Paul’s face felt hot as Gene brought his fingers to his lips.

          “You taste pretty good, too.”

           “Aw, c’mon, Gene--”

          “You do.”

          Paul shook his head, but his heart was beating a hard, hopeful cadence at the words. He didn't quite feel sated. There was a weird leftover warmth in him, a deep-down feeling that he could probably go again without much trouble, but he felt like he'd asked too much of Gene already. It'd probably be another ten minutes at least before Gene could get hard again.

           "Uh. Lemme get you a towel or something, then we can… I don't know, I can fix some toast…" Paul trailed, awkward as all hell, starting to scoot off the bed. He'd forgotten how to handle anyone in the after. Gene, especially. Gene looked at him as if he were about to laugh.

           "You'll really leave it at that?"

           "I'm not leaving it at anything." Paul tried to rearrange his face into as bland an expression as he could, too keenly aware of how tightly he was still pressing his thighs together. Gene laughed, tugging him back up by the arm, back nearly into place on his lap. He wasn't facing him head-on this time, at first, but he turned his head, a vague sort of hope making his pulse flit. "C'mon, Gene, I know you can't—"

           "You have a hard time enjoying anything, don't you?"

           Oh, God. Just like last time, Gene was picking the worst point possible to start asking questions. Paul hesitated.

           "I enjoy plenty."

           "You're still soaking." Gene had gone for the hem of the nightie, tugging it up and pressing a finger against his panties, making Paul twitch anew. "I bet you could go again. Maybe more than once."

           "I don't know— "

           "You wanna try?" Gene leaned in, kissing the top of his head. Just as easy and thoughtless as if they really were together. As if this wasn't going to evaporate the second Paul gathered up enough nerve to give in entirely.  Why shouldn't he be thoughtless about it? I want you was all Paul had managed to own up to.

           Paul shoved those thoughts aside as hard as he could, and turned around entirely, tracing his hand down Gene's chest. Gene, to his credit, barely winced at the cold, not nearly inadvertent smear of come from Paul's hand.

           "Depends. Would you go down on me for it?"

           The glint in Gene's eye gave him away long before he even licked his lips.

[xoruffitup]

Adam Driver on SNL: 1/25 Dress Rehearsal Recap

I’m having dejavu of the best kind. I’m sitting here on the bus on my way back from NYC in hungover euphoria and overjoyed disbelief at everything I just experienced, texting new friends and old, recounting everything in my head and smiling so hard. The September 2018 weekend of Adam’s last SNL show lives in my memory in unmatched infamy, so my excitement was off the charts to do it all again. And because this show was absolutely fucking INCREDIBLE, this weekend delivered in every way all over again!! Seriously, my face aches from how I can’t stop smiling aksnksj HELP :’)

My friends and I were in the Dress Rehearsal, so below the cut are retellings of ALLLL the skits including those cut from the Live show - and no small amount of helpless emotional flailing.

I had an idea of what to expect after attending Adam’s 2018 show, but I nevertheless felt sky-high levels of anxiety when Sarah and we arrived at the NBC shop at 6:30. I knew rationally that our chances of getting into Dress were good with numbers #12 - 14, but every now and then there’s the occasional oddity of only a handful of Standby people getting in. Though even without any uncertainty in the equation, my entire being goes on Hyped/Anxious Overdrive anyway whenever I’m about to be in the same space as Adam sO really there’s nothing for it. :’)

They lined us up by numbers, I did a lot of emotional wobbling like “I can’t believe we’re here again together guys waaaah” (have I mentioned I met these girls at Adam’s last show? Full circle moment of the highest and most beautiful caliber and it had me hella verklempt), and thennnn - drumroll and hushed silence please - the main security guy comes up to the giant line and asks the first 20 people to come with him.

As they constantly remind you throughout this thoroughly nerve-wracking process, there is no guarantee you’ll actually get into the show until you’re physically in the seat. It’s a long, harrowing trip from the NBC store where the line gathers, up stairs, elevators, and through hallways to reach the studio, and you can still be cut even as far as the very last checkpoint if all seats fill up with the people ahead of you. So as you get closer, the excitement spikes higher and higher but so does the worry! We went through security, and then I clung to our new Standby line friend Catherine’s arm as they lined us up two-by-two on the first staircase, with Sarah and @reylonly right behind. I was likely extremely annoying as I couldn’t help being rambly and weird in my nerves and compulsively hugging my girls’ arms. @reylonly did her very best to calm my hot mess down, bless her.

About 45 minutes later (Maybe? I had no idea what time was, lbr) we reached the final point of the elevator and last hallway, and were held just outside the studio. THEN - the woman there instructed the next 4 to follow her in (thank GOD because we were terrified of being split up), WE WENT INTO THE STUDIO WHEW YAYAY OMFG WE WERE THERE!!! - but then oh no it happened so fast that she pointed @reylonly down to a single seat in the center and then the other 3 of us to seats towards the left side of the stage. They were all single seats, but thank GOSH they were all end seats of rows right next to each other. So Sarah was right in front of me and I could grab her shoulder (which I would do a lot in increasingly desperate excitement over the next 2 hours), and Catherine and I could reach across the aisle to cling to each other’s hands! @reylonly was on her own but in an incredible seat, and during commercial breaks we would lean forward to wave and blow kisses to each other and mime flailing or crying as one incredible sketch after another played out in front of us. I made sure to be friendly and talk to the people sitting next to me so they wouldn’t be too annoyed with me and Sarah always grabbing at each other, but LOL they probably thought I was at least a little insane. I mean, maybe for the moment alone when I saw a girl I’d made friends with in line but then lost track of in a seat not too far from me, and we started waving and dabbing at each other. Once we were seated there in the studio, all the anxiety gave way to surging excitement and I was practically bouncing in my seat, so overjoyed to be there and see my dear fandom friends there with me!

Michael Che warmed up the audience with some standup, the House band jammed, and Sarah and I momentarily got Extremely Excited when we saw them setting up the hell backdrop set for the cold open and thought at the time it was supposed to be Tattooine for a Star Wars skit, lolol. But then the actual show started, and with our Adam-eagle eyes Catherine reached out to whisper “there he is! In the blonde wig!” And, heart in my throat no matter how many times I see this man in person, I frantically squinted at all the people waiting just off to the side of the set until I saw that unmistakably Tol Broad back, and then he stepped onto the set and into the lighted camera’s view and I was cheering and clapping so hard for his first appearance that I couldn’t hear who he was supposed to be playing. xD I was just tapping Sarah’s shoulder in front of me, bouncing in my seat a little, and trying not to start levitating with the sheer force of my excitement and joy to be there.

OKAY from here I’ll break this up by skit! Anything that was different or missing from the Live show I put in bold font if you want to skip to that! Starting with...

Intro Monologue

WHAT A GOOD MONOLOGUE, ITS LIKE THEY JUST LET ADAM RUN WITH IT AND WRITE IT HIMSELF IT WAS SO HIM AND HILARIOUS AND WEIRD AND YET CHARMING IDEK I WILL NEVER COMPREHEND THE WONDER OF THIS MAN??

So when he dropped the bomb of “I’m a husband and a FATHER” I clapped Sarah’s shoulder SO HARD, then he made he joke “I’ve made it very clear to my son that he’s second in everything” and I could not bELIEVE the wonder of what I was hearing omfg. I heard the words “my son” come out of his mouth with my own ears WHO COULD HAVE PREDICTED, SURE AS HELL NOT ME????

Then he went into the audience to demonstrate how “approachable” he is and was so awk/weird/hilarious I was just losing it, then took his time meandering around the stage and making weird faces into the camera and I was just LOSING IT. And AKSKSJA after that he wandered over to another camera that was lower and kind of hummed as he lifted his shirt and put it over the camera so we got a full on belly button view for 2 unbelievable glorious seconds!! He looked up at the monitors as he was doing it and went “oh you can’t see anything” so that’s probably why he sadly didn’t flash his belly in the Live show.

“Cheer” with Adam as one of the team coaches

I’m going by the skit order in Dress, and this one was first after the monologue. Best part for me was the accent reminiscent of Clyde Logan. :3 But tbh, of the 6 skits they did for the Live show, I kind of wish this one had been swapped for the one performed last in Dress that was sO Wild and would have made fandom absolutely lose its shit aksnksal more to come on that.

UNDERCOVER BOSS AKA RANDY THE INTERN

THE BEST GIFT WE COULD HAVE RECEIVED!! BLESS YOU SNL AND ADAM FOR GIVING US KYLO CONTENT TO BE HAPPY OVER AND LOVE WHOLE HEARTEDLY. T___T

Honestly, I cannot even properly describe my reaction when the Undercover Boss intro logo appeared on all the monitors oHMYLoRDDD. I nearly leapt out of my seat, like my heart nearly jumped clear out of my chest oh my fuck and I was legit holding onto Sarah so much I almost slid out of my seat - I just couldn’t believe it and I cheered SO LOUD. The entire audience erupted with this “HOLY SHIT” vibe outburst and I was SO happy to be there in that moment - knowing that our entire fandom was only hours away from this!! I honestly didn’t expect it at all - after they didn’t do one of these the second time Adam was on, I thought there was no chance. But IT HAPPENED AND IT WAS SO QUALITY HILARIOUS WE ARE SO BLESSED - THANK YOU TO RANDY’S LIL BEANIE AND VEST AND HIPSTER PANTS.

Pretty sure I like half curled up on myself laughing so hard my feet left the floor at OK BOOMER. And at the part with “will Rey take his hand?” I swear MY SOUL NEAR LEFT MY BODY I MEAN IS THIS THE REAL LIFE IS THIS JUST FANTASYYYY

..... Can someone come promise me we really didn’t just collectively hallucinate that??

SAG Awards Fashion Red Carpet

I’m not too disappointed this one was cut. Of all the amazing skits performed, I would have ranked this one lower. Adam and Kenan Thompson were fashion critics talking about celebs’ looks on the SAG red carpet. A minute in Adam says, “We should be paying more attention to the kids!” Kenan: *nervous laugh* “uh, should we??” Adam starts talking about/admiring the outfits for like Finn Wolfhard etc, with hilarious but bordering creepy descriptions like “masculine but not quite fully grown,” until Kenan is like “umm maybe we shouldn’t be talking about kids this much?”

They interview a girl who’s supposed to be Jojo Siwa and Adam’s like “you should know I think you’re beautiful. Kids need to hear more often that they’re beautiful.” Kenan panics, going “alRIGHT we’re gonna cut back to the studio now!” The skit ended with Adam: “I got a ticket to the Nickelodeon afterparty and I’m gonna swipe one of those kids in my pocket!”

“Slow” Digital Short

HONESTLY, this competes with Undercover Boss for my favorite skit of the night. I can’t even tell you - I had literal tears running down my face I was laughing SO fucking hard during this entire thing. From the first moment we heard Adam’s deep-ass voice I absolutely and entirely lost my shit oh my GOD. We’d been so pumped for Adam in some kind of rap sketch when we saw the photos of him and Kenan filming the day before, but it was SO FUCKING GOOD. I will never ever in all my days not bust out laughing at “Bring that ass here” and “In a 65 hour lane going 2” aksnskns I’m on the bus struggling to fight back laughter just thinking about it SEND HELP!!!

It’s just brilliant. The turtle next to his expensive loafers. His cheesy sunglasses. That shot of his glorious bare arms. His deep voice “Baby” when they’re at the door and “But I brought ice cream” oh my god I love it so much BLESS YOU SNL BLESS YOU. I never in all my days thought I’d get Adam rapping but it’s every single thing I never knew I needed.

Del Taco Commercial / “Aw Man I’m All Outta Cash!”

ADAM’S SLEAZY LOOKING LONG WIG LMAO. This one was a wild and funny time once you got into it and just let it go. Once Kyle, Beck, and Adam were all yelling the line and Adam went “You don’t want to kill yourself, you just want a taco, Jesus” everyone was ROLLING. I think the only difference (is this even worth color coding lol) was that after Kyle took his pants off Adam kept slapping his thigh during Dress bahaha.

“Hot Dad” Adam dealing with a clogged toilet at a teenaged girls’ sleepover

Adam and Kate McKinnon comedy together YES PLEASE. This one was all the same as far as I can remember, but I will say that a woop/cheer rose from the people sitting near the set for this one at the line about Adam being a “hot Dad.” Yep sounds about right.

(Halsey’s first song, Weekend Update)

Medieval Renaissance Fair

You can’t have Adam host SNL without giving him some ridiculous character skit ala Oil Baron Parnassus. I absolutely loved how intense and deep he was for this kind of nonsense xD We can thank this skit for giving us footage of Adam yelling “Whore!” and spitting, lmao. Also.... I’ll just say in that outfit and wig he looked even Extra Big in comparison to everyone around him.

Courtroom Trial / Sinbad on Cameo

I’m also okay with this one being cut, but I was biased to enjoy the hell out of it live because the set was right in front of where I was sitting and I had such a perfect view of him. <3

Adam was supposed to be the defendant in a case where a female coworker claims he harassed her by sending “threatening” videos. Adam goes up on the stand and the prosecutor asks “are you familiar with these videos?” Cut over to Kenan Thompson, who’s pretending to be Sinbad on the app Cameo, making videos for the woman that are like “Hey you better give Mark a chance! Otherwise he might come after you!” Adam responds with disbelief: “I have no idea who this Sinbad person is and frankly, your honor, this is pissing me off.” Kenan acts a few more videos which keep getting funnier because he keeps eating things or being in crowded public places while filming them. But in the final video he references Adam’s character’s name so it’s clear he was the one requesting the videos. Adam gets all sad on the stand: “It doesn’t matter. No one likes me anyway!” It ends with Kenan as Sinbad crashing into the courtroom in person.

This was more Kenan’s skit as he really was hilarious, but someone had to explain to me afterwards who Sinbad is and how the Cameo app works so I didn’t quite ~get it while watching. BUT more importantly - Adam looked great despite the weird brown wig he had on. During the second of Kenan’s videos when the cameras were on Kenan instead, Adam’s face definitely started quivering with suppressed laughter until he visibly locked it down like NO FOCUS ADAM. Most of my attention stayed fixed on the buttons of his shirt because hOOo boy were they straining! Without me even saying anything, Catherine reached across the aisle for me immediately afterwards and whispered, “That shirt did /not/ fit well.” OH YES I NOTICED >:33

PBS Science Show

Another one which was performed right directly in front of us!! I already knew this was going to be a good one because Adam went right over to the skeleton mannequin when he came on set and started playing with it, like making the arm and wrist wiggle around. The biggest dork cutie you’ll ever see.

He was standing right under me, which meant once he started handling the balloon I got mighty distracted watching his MASSIVE hands around that tiny-looking balloon. >:)) Then I cracked up so hard when he got exasperated and threw something back against the window. WE GOT TO SEE HIM SMASH SOMETHING IN PERSON YESSSS

Ketchup bottles

Oh my GOD EVERYTHING WAS AMAZING ABOUT THIS ONE FROM START TO FINISH. The best part though might have been the prep beforehand. Someone carried the giant Ketchup and hot sauce bottles onto the set before the actors came on and we were like wtf? (For a minute I was triggered remembering Kanye coming on in his Perrier bottle during the 2018 show) But THEN Adam and Cecily Strong came on in big red shirts and people started lifting the giant plastic bottles over them and LOL we realized where this was going. They definitely struggled for a minute getting Adam’s bottle up over his head because of his height xD People in the audience were already laughing just watching this costume set up, and once Adam got the bottle on a WOOT cheer rose which I later learned was none other than @reylonly aka my hero. It was followed by someone yelling “THATS HOT”, which akndosjan made Adam laugh and raise his arms with a hilarious little shimmy in the bottle. He really seemed to be enjoying himself during the whole show, but during this ridiculous and incredibly hilarious skit especially so.

Game Night / Movie Quote Competition

OKAY this is the skit it’s a real tragedy didn’t make it on air! There were lines in this I couldn’t beLiEvE my ears were hearing, and if we ever get a recording I’m pretty sure the fandom would basically implode. 

Three couples are sitting around a living room having a game night. Adam is sitting with Kate McKinnon with his arm around her. After they finish playing Settlers of Catan, Heidi Gardner suggests they play a movie quote game where one of them says a line from a movie and the rest have to guess the movie. She is clearly very into it, and the others reluctantly agree. It quickly becomes clear that Adam is just as good at the game as she is, and they immediately start becoming competitive. They reach the point where they quote three lines from Captain Phillips in a row, trying to trick each other. As the game gets more heated, they exchange aggressive flirty banter such as:

Heidi: You really know your movie quotes, huh? Adam: Yeah I do. Heidi: And with some BDE over there. Adam: Yeah, I got that too.

AND !!!!!!!!!!

Heidi: You’re quite the movie flick daddy. Adam: I’m the world’s biggest flick daddy.

!!!!!!!!! HE CALLED HIMSELF A DADDY HELP CALL 911 EMERGENCY !!!!!!!!!!

The game keeps escalating until Kate tries to calm Adam down and he brushes her off. Everyone else tries to tell Heidi to relax, and she responds “What?! I’m supposed to lie back and let (Kate’s character’s name)’s hot husband rail me??”

I WAS FLOATING ON THE CEILING BY THIS POINT, I literally couldn’t believe what my ears were hearing alsdfjsldafjlsdkfj!

It gets to the point where they’re both standing, shouting completely vague snippets of lines at each other while the other continues to guess correctly. Until finally Adam exclaims, “I got a good one!” He grabs her and fULL ON kisses her. 

(Pictures from The Adam Driver Files twitter.)

Immediately afterwards she goes, “I know! That was the kiss from (Movie X - I can’t remember the exact title).” Adam: “HOW DID YOU KNOW?!” Heidi: “From how you moved your tongue!”

I’m still reeling from this one. Adam calling himself a daddy, talk of “getting railed” by him, and intense kissing?! Oh my lORDDDD. I’m still trying to keep it playing on a loop in my ears. I’m not sure if we as a fandom could collectively survive a full video of this, but GOD I hope we get the chance to test ourselves. RELEASE THE UNAIRED VIDEO, YOU NBC COWARDS!!!

FLICK DADDY INDEED

...Aaaaaaand that was a wrap! After 10 skits and nearly 2.5 hours, it literally felt like I had run a marathon at a full sprint. I was just trying to process everything I’d just witnessed, while trying to focus on committing every single thing to memory. I just couldn’t believe the range of amazing and hilarious things I’d just seen Adam doing: Play a talking ketchup bottle, call himself a daddy, awkwardly talk about feminine products clogging his toilet, yell “WHORE” then spit and swing a medieval mace around, rap hilariously, and yell about umami?? It was all almost TOO MUCH. 

For full-circle and emotional fulfillment reasons, I wore my Save Ben Solo shirt to the show just like I did at the 2018 show. I had debated beforehand whether it would be too bittersweet to wear it after TROS, but now I’m so glad I did. All these hilarious and zany skits were just what we all needed to continue the cycle of fandom excitement and positivity despite the last month. I’m so incredibly grateful to SNL for such great material for Adam to work with and us to laugh at, and for giving us the perfect reminder that there’s still so much to whole-heartedly appreciate and love. Most of all, Adam himself. <3

THANK YOU SNL AND ADAM FOR ANOTHER LIFE-HIGHLIGHT WEEKEND! <3

[cadreformed]

Things Ive said at work: Meme Addition

In this world its YEET or be yeeted

Bears are corgis of the woods Nah nah hear me out! Hear me out!

It is possible i have acquired a vast knowledge of information on weed without actually consuming it myself

I remember one time i interrupted a neighbor harvesting road kill. That was awkward.

Yes by proxy experience is still experience.

How much weed is a normal amount?

Hey boss do you know how much weed is like an average amount? For a person?

Amoung us was sent by aliens as our first test. We must prove we are ready for space mutiny.

What is 'consumes weed recreationally and in the evenings'?? Is that like a joint a night? How do joints work?

You are currently the cow in the tornado. Im sorry its a mooving experience i know.

Yeah i lose an eyebrow sometimes.

What would you say is your average standard for performance?

Oh this ones my favorite: 'family history of mental illness, answer: Yes'

I mean technically if you believe in ghosts we can just write that off.

Can i buy an adjective for 500$?

Would you consider say a giant monty python gaping gash- comically large- to be enough to call off work??

If you forget what an animal is called it is perfectly acceptable to call them old lady names

Wait how much did you pay for weed? That sounds like a lot for weed.

Find the broken basement toilet in your life and plunge it!

I promise to come in so you dont loom in the windows like a victorian widow

Listen,dude,when you have to buy your own potatoes you're gonna take this seriously.

Smashed potatoes are a big kid problem, okay!!

Are you old enough to remember Myspace?

Homohabilus vs homophobia FIGHT

Dysphoria cannot find you if youre wearing a tiger face mask and hydrating your skin.

You know what i smell? Capitalism.

Oh god i know exactly what type of Catholic youre talking about.

I get into yelling matches with soap box preachers, its my character flaw.

Youre on the create a sim menu right now, what do you choose?

Put on a shirt BAM youre wearing a girl shirt!

Youve entered Stealth Femme style.

Bears and humans: both love mcdonalds, repurposing old furniture, and sleeping.

Your homework is to play an hour of video games a night.

*talking at length in outrageously bad German accent*

That sucks, lets take a moment to acknowledge and validate this shit.

Whats the flavor of the day?

Who washes baseboards?? I didnt know what a baseboard was until like last year!

Lets listen to this suggested laundromat sound track.

Hey kid, you want a plant?

I have a licensure exam to study for but instead im hyperfocused on learning *language 1* and * language 2* at the same time.

New growth craves old roots.

Listen everyone can appreciate a marker that smells like fake fruits.

Hey you can smell it through the mask

* sits smelling mr sketch markers for 15 minutes*

You pay me 25$ to set up your wifi AND program your thermostat??

How did we have ANOTHER toilet seat crack in half?

Whoa whoa whoa whoaaaaa did i hear the sound of FUN happening?!

A moltov cocktail solves everything in fiction otherwise you gotta plan that shit out you need like the fucking rag and the bottle and-

Guaranteed everyone has coping skills and communication as goals like its literally everyone.

Im so glad your husband is continuing to turn into a sitcom character

* saying 'no' in progressively longer and more dramatic ways*

You are correct, llamas are NOT cats.

Im hiding my girlfriends present in the attic so dont steal it.

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

Halloween au

Favours

(Yuki otoko Ghiaccio X female reader)

This winter was the coldest you had ever experienced. Blizzards were almost a daily occurrence. Many believed this may have been caused by a Yuki otoko that had appeared in legends, one that your village had given yearly offerings for centuries but had now slowly been fading due to many wars that had occurred.

You were the only remaining tailor in the village. The others had either passed away or joined the military leaving you with the  task of making and mending clothes for the entire village, which had been hard to begin with but over time your skills had improved to the point where your work was highly sort after.

You walked though the deep layers of snow while carrying the large quantities of fabric. Your knee grew weaker with each step and the stinging of small shards of ice in the harsh wind hitting your body. Through the thick clouds you could see the sun slowly settling, you needed to find shelter soon or else you would surely perish.

You looked around the cold tundra that the land had become and to your luck you had found a cave not to far away, hopefully you could make it before the sun completely vanished.

🎃🎃🎃

You had arrived with only a few minutes to spare. You grabbed out a lantern, oil and a match from you satchel and lit it. Now with a source of light you made your way deep into the cave before setting everything down and slumped down on the wall, despite the cold, harsh weather outside the cave had a certain warmth to it that made you doze of with no problem. However your peaceful sleep only lasted a few hours.

Your eyes slowly opened as you heard footsteps. You quickly grabbed your knife and slowly approached the source of the noise. You tried to hold back gasp as you saw the white fur covered back of an unfamiliar creature, however despite your attempts it noticed you.

Your body paled as the creature turned to face you. It was only just taller and had a human like posture, fur covered most of its body except for it's face which was like that of a baboon except for a pair of cut horns.

You screamed as it grabbed your free arm. You threw yourself around in a blind fit of terror, accidentally slashing it's face with your knife. It let out a hiss in pain as it let go of you and held it's face.

"Ahh that fucking hurts!" It said with strain in it's masculine voice. You were stuck in awe by the profanity it spoke, little more the fact that it spoke at all.

The creature moved it's hands away from it's face to reveal the large cut down it's face revealing that it was in fact a mask.

"You... You!" It yelled as it took the mask off and threw it at you, revealing it's true features. He looked almost human, except for a few features. Those being his light blue hair, his awfully pale skin, a pair of cut horns and a pair of abnormal canines that grazed his lower lips.

"Do you know how long it took me to make this!" He hissed.

"I... I'm sorry, I didn't mean it" you apologized to him but he wasn't going to take it.

"'I'm sorry I'm so sorry'. That ain't gonna cut it!" He said as he mimicked your voice.

"Unless you can do something about it sweetie, I'll rip you to shreads!" He yelled as he pointed one of his sharp nails at you.

"I... I could try and fix it..." You stuttered.

"Really?" he said with sarcasm laced in his voice.

"Give me a day and I will fix it, I promise" you said. He gave you a critical look.

"Fine, but if you don't get it done when the sun sets tomorrow" he said before giving you the cut throat signal.

"Until then, your staying where I know you can't leave" he said as he pulled you deeper into the cave by the arm, until you both ended up in a place that was unlike any you had seen before.

A opening in the celling of the cave revealed the bright moon that made the area nearly blinding to be in, a area where thick layers of ice cascaded over crystal formations.

You looked to the sky in awe as the snow seemed like stars falling from the sky.

"What are you looking at he said as he pulled you into a corner before taking off his coat of fur and put it on you, revealing his body draped in multiple yukata some of which you recognised as your own work.

"Are you the Yuki otoko?" You asked him.

"Just go to sleep already, I don't want you falling asleep on the job" he said.

🎃🎃🎃

You woke up to feel something cold against your face however it wasn't an unpleasant coldness, it was actually quite comforting. You opened your eyes to see that creature from last night, cuddled up right beside you.

You sat up to see the area glowing with the morning sun, fragments of light bouncing off the ice in every direction. All of you belonging were placed on the other side of you.

You reached out for your bag and grabbed out a needle and thread and picked up the mask. You inspected it for a few minutes before trying to push the needle into the bottom of the mask, you groaned as you tried so desperately to get the needle through the flesh only to help as you felt it stab into you finger.

"Ugh, what are you making such a fuss about" the blue haired creature groaned. Before looking at the blood that slowly surfaced from your flesh. It would be only a matter of time before you gave up.

While he watched you slowly stitch up his mask he decided to put in the effort to at least talk to you.

"What's your name?" He asked you as he sat right beside you.

"It's (Y/n) you responded as you continued to look at the mask you were still stitching.

"What's yours?" You asked, just trying to keep the conversation flowing.

"Ghiaccio..." he mumbled.

"It's a different name..." You commented. He responded in a groan.

"It's a nice name in my opinion" you clarified.

Your conversation went on and on but Ghiaccio didn't mind it in the slightest, despite the fact that you had hurt him last night you were actually a nice person to talk to. It was a relief to finally have some company rather then the usual isolation that he had been in.

He watched you throughout the day as you painfully sewed up the mask, blister formed on your soft finger as you continued the painful task. His eyes inspected you stitching.

"You're the tailor lady from the village north west of here, aren't you?" He asked.

"I'm flattered that you know of my work" you replied.

"But then again... I always make you clothes as an offering" you continued as you finished the stitching.

"Done" you beamed as you knotted the end of the thread before giving him the mask.

"I've kept my end of the deal, now you keep yours and let me go" you said as you stood up and picked up your things.

"Ummm..." He began as a light blush appeared on his face.

"I have one last request..." He mumbled.

"What?" You asked. He then pointed to one of the textiles you had, a particular one that had apparently come from overseas. The black and white striped pattern on silk was entrancing.

"Next October, please make me a yukata with that fabric" he asked before walking.

"Of course" you replied as you followed

🎃🎃🎃

As the next winter approached you had made the yukata that Ghiaccio had requested. Many patrons tried to buy it from you but you refused.

You sat down with one of the Emperor's advisors who requested a garment for princes coronation. He constantly talked about how he heard about your work and how people claimed that you were the best tailor in the country while showing you the design sketches.

"I'll have it done in a week" you said as you pulled down the requested fabrics.

"I trust that you'll do a fine job, I'll bring him then to try it" he replied before shaking your hand and giving you the first half of your payment.

You had expected that to be all but once he returned to the palace he couldn't help but tell the prince of the young tailors unrivaled beauty. He went into lengthy detail about every part of you.

"If she really is as beautiful as you say then I will consider marriage" the prince declared.

🎃🎃🎃

When the prince arrived you hadn't expected much, just a pay and go situation but he didn't he had ordered his advisor and guards to leave before taking your hand.

"So my advisors words were true, your by far the most beautiful woman I've meet" he said in a soft tone.

"I'm surprised your parents didn't send you off to become a geisha" he continued as he tried to pull you closer. You didn't like where this was going, you tried to push him away but to no advil.

"Please let go of me" you said which caused his soft expression to turn sour.

"Are you trying to turn me down" he asked with irritation.

"I do not wish for you to be looked down upon for marrying a commoner such as I" you explained which made him angered.

"I don't care about what other will say" he argued.

"But we don't even know anything about one another!" You retorted. He glared down at you with a devious look as he grabbed out a dagger.

"Then I'll stab myself and tell everyone that you did it, I'll convict you of treason and have you executed" he said. You looked at him with shock.

"Your crazy" you muttered.

"Yes I'm crazy... for you that is" he replied.

"Fine, I'll marry you" you sighed in defeat.

"Then it's settled, you will come with me back to the palace where we will start the arrangements" he said.

"No! Please let me stay just for awhile longer!" You yelled.

"And why is that?" He hissed.

"In two weeks we give offerings to the Yuki otoko, I'd like to place down my offering before I leave" you explained.

"If you must but I will come down to this village every day, so don't try to make any escapes" he replied.

"I won't..."

🎃🎃🎃

The night of offering arrived and the town had become a lot crowded due to the soon to be king's presence. You snarled at the fire works and stalls that had been set up around the town, they had turned a peaceful ceremony into a big light show and Ghiaccio hadn't appreciated it much either.

He looked at the fireworks the lit up the sky. He was outraged. Nothing like this had happened before, and he hated it.

He approached the village, maybe scare a few people and ruin gardens but as he stomped through the forest he heard your voice.

"I'll really miss this town" you sighed.

He saw amongst the shrubs you along with an unfamiliar male.

"Why are you so attached to such a small run down village, once you an I are married well live a palace twice the size of this!" He exclaimed, partially in amusement.

Ghiaccio let out a low growl under his breath. Since he had met you he had wanted to take you for himself but just couldn't find an opportunity.

Cause a mess and ruin the only night he had to enjoy was one thing but stealing what he saw was his was another. He began to approach you two.

"What is that thing?!" The prince exclaimed as he pointed to Ghiaccio.

"Gh...Ghiaccio, what are you doing here?" You asked him, he gave you response.

"You named this foul beast!" He looked at you in horror as he grabbed your arm and tried to run away but Ghiaccio quickly snatched you up and threw you over his shoulder. You let let out a small yelp.

"Ghiaccio answer me!" You yelled only for him to hit you in the back of the head, causing you to fall unconscious.

"Let go of my bride!" The prince screamed as he lunged at him with his dagger in hand, the blade cutting the mask completely off. Exposing his true face with a small amount of blood trickling down his face. Rage predominant on his features.

"You think you can just take waltz in here and decide that you going to take and ruin what's mine!" Ghiaccio yelled as he grabbed the prince by the throat and pinned him to a tree.

"Well I'm not taking any bullshit from fuckers like you!" He continued before throwing him to the ground.

"You have no right call (Y/n) your bride!" He screamed as he began to kick as stomp his head in. The fresh white snow turning a dark red.

"You think she'd ever like a stuck up bastard like you! No! You're nothing more then a piece of fucking shit!" He continued until he was sure that man would regret ever trying to take you away.

"The Yuki otoko! It's killed the prince!" A voice screamed, causing him to flinch before trying to run away

"And it has (Y/n)!" Another added

"What does it intend to do?!"

"It's not pleased with the change of festivities!"

"It's probably going to eat her!"

"Then we must give chase, we can't afford to have her eaten!"All the many voices continued as they tried to chase him but after an hour they lost him, only to assume the worst.

🎃🎃🎃

You woke up in the familiar clearing in the cave that Ghiaccio had taken you to nearly a year ago, but this time it felt more ominous then before. You sat up and rubbed your eyes and looked in shock at the large icicles that confineded you in the corner like a cage.

"Ghiaccio! What is the meaning of this!?" You yelled at the lump of fur a couple of metres away from you.

"What are you talking about?" He  grumbled as he stood up. Your eyes widened at the site of blood on his coat.

"What... What did you do?" You gasped.

"I saved you from living the rest of your life with a asshole that thought he could pass of as a suitable husband for you" he explained.

"But why... Bring me back here and confined me like this?" You asked.

"Because you are the only person that I trust" he responded.

"And..." He was about to say something but quickly cut himself off.

"What?" You asked.

"Do you want me to show you?"

[nadezhda-wexler]

Lie With Me (And Forget the World)

Hi @ofbuttsandbombs, I am your writer for Fall Exchange (I really hope I am saying this right). You gave me so many awesome prompts that I really had to struggle to just pick one and stick with it. But I finally settled on “snuggling closer for warmth”. I really hope you like it because otherwise, *in Charles Boyle’s voice* I’m gonna kill myself. Just kidding, but I hope you enjoy it. 

Also shoutout to @amydancepants-peralta for being as awesome as she is and reading through this mess and helping me troubleshoot. she really is so amazing and kind helpful. Thank you so much. Also to @meepmorpperaltiago because whenever I need to talk, she was always there. 

And to @b99fandomevents thank you so much for making this happen. You guys are awesome and I really hope this keeps on going. 

  The morning light spilt into the room and with it brings the cold that Amy so desperately tries to keep out. The light prescribes a path for the tiny dust particles, dancing and swirling, almost like they too are revelling in the joy from yesterday. It’s a combination of both, with their feather-light touches, that wakes Amy up. Her consciousness returns to her gradually, and when she rubs her face, something that held the full cold of the night brushes against her cheeks. The thoughts of cold and dust and morning chores suddenly disappear and memories from yesterday- Ames, I love you, sex tape jokes, Will you marry me- explodes in her heart like those Fourth of July fireworks and she is almost knocked out of breath (again). Love and warmth fill her and she’s smiling, her eyes still shut, when she brings her thumb to run along her cold ring. It’s all real, she thinks, and her heart’s dancing again. She never thought something so cold could ever bring her such joy. But she supposes when Jake Peralta is involved, she should have checked her expectations at the door.

   She knows she needs to get up. Their competitive streak forcing them to tear through the house making a mess, laundry bins overflowing and dishes waiting to be cleaned. She knows she should start on that coffee, go through her planner and start making appointments and start calling relatives (because she’s engaged). But there’s a warm hand in her right hand and she just can’t.

  Jake is on his stomach, hair messy and rumpled (partly her fault), his right leg crossing hers at the ankles, his face turned towards her, right hand firmly in hers. His side is messy, less than before, but messy still. Both their clothes are haphazardly thrown around their room (they were drunk and deliriously happy, so sue them), and she knows if she went to the kitchen now, remnants of the omelette will still be there. This is her forever. The Fourth of July fireworks has nothing on her.

  (They had only been to the fireworks once. Jake had insisted they go see the Coney Island fireworks, as a couple about a year into their relationship. She had just closed a very gruelling case two days ago and was not interested in more exerting activities, but then he gave her his patented puppy-eyes and promises of massages (before, after and during, Ames. Whenever you want) and well, it had been too long since they had done something like this and what the hell, she too wanted to see the fireworks. Jake’s face as they sat on the sand, Amy tucked to his side, wrapped in a blanket he had remembered to bring, as the first illumination went up and exploded was worth the long and tiring walks, the crowd and the general restlessness. A photo of them, the colour of pyrotechnics reflecting off their faces with smiles that could light up the sky themselves hangs on their refrigerator). 

  A breeze comes knocking and a shiver responds and she is very rudely reminded of the cold. It seems Jake is too, as he hums and tightens his grip on her. So she moves towards him, her face finding its wonted place between his neck and shoulders and her lips lining his shoulders with floaty kisses.

  He sighs and pulls her closer, his smile etching into her hair. He mumbles good morning, voice thick, sleep lowering every note, breaking the silence. She mumbles it back, voice almost as airy as breath. She smiles again and she can’t believe that this, this right here is her tomorrow, her forever and she’s sure that if not for the hand around her waist, she would have floated away like a hot-air balloon, her happiness making her so much lighter.

  (She had booked them both a hot-air balloon ride, last year, during peak fall. A family friend owned it and was happy to oblige her request. But as soon as they got in, ready to take off, rain poured in from nowhere and drenched her big romantic gesture. The weather stayed the same pretty much all day and they couldn’t ride at all. But as they found a shelter, Jake said it didn't matter because all the best romances have at least one grand scene in rain and they ended up recounting and reciting all their favourite rain scenes. And as they were about to leave, he kissed her, long and languid under the shower. He still has that photo of her, staring at the sky in challenge, fall colours splashed behind her and the autumn leaves around her with a lone leaf somehow finding its way into her hair.)

  She wants to stay here forever, so she forgets the mess, the laundry and the dishes. She snuggles impossibly closer to him and breaths him in. He smells like his cologne, the precinct, like Shaw’s and a little bit like her. He smells like their awkward first date, the whirlwind second and fresh mattresses. He smells like yesterday, today and tomorrow. And the next day and the next day and the next day. He smells like home- as cliché as it sounds- smells like hers, always and forever.   

  He’s sketching patterns onto her spine, whorls achingly familiar, which her tangled thoughts are yet to figure out. Her brain slowly catches up and she feels him write love, love, love on her. She’s bursting at the seams again, so she kisses up his neck, tracing his jaw, settling on his lips.

  Their kiss is slow, without yesterday’s fire and passion, but with love and warmth abundant nonetheless. His hands are everywhere. Dragging across her spine, plunging into her hair, lacing with her fingers. They break for air and he brings their laced hands up. He looks like he can’t believe that the finger on her hand is real. He looks at her and whispers in a daze, we’re getting married. The joy, marvel, disbelief is reflected in her as she echoes him. He kisses each knuckle, lingering on her ring.

  She laces their hands together, again. She is about to capture his lips again when his phone started buzzing off the hook. He sighs and grabs his phone and says congratulations are pouring in, Santiago, the world is looking at us.

  She takes his phone and puts it away and kisses him long and hard and whispers onto his lips, the world can wait. 

[mycopingmechanisms012]

What does ‘gay’ mean?

El arrived home to find Will sketching on the room they both shared. They lived in a small 2-bedroom apartment in Chicago. Jonathan was renting a flat a few blocks away. “Hi.”

Will looked up form his sketchbook, “Hey. Where have you been? I was going to call mom in the next ten minutes if you didn’t show up.”

“I was with Lily at the school’s library. And it’s 7-5-6 so I’m still on time for curfew.”

“El, remember it’s said 7:56, not 7-5-6. And it’s fine, I just got worried. Mom called, she’s gonna be late, again,” he looked sad, “We have pizza left overs. Hungry?”

“Sure! And, Will?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you help me with my physics home please? I was only able to finish English at the library.”

“No problem. Let’s do it while eat.”

“Perfect.”

El put the table and brought her homework. Meanwhile, Will microwaved the pizza and tuned in the radio. Once the pizza was done, and Under Pressure played on the radio, Will sat next to El, and started to explain physics.

They took a few snacks with them when they went back to their room. El took some chips and started to read a magazine. Will had some cookies with him, but pretty much ignore them since he was sketching. “Will?”

“Yes,” he said without looking up from his sketchbook.

“Do you think Jo-mom,” El was still not used at calling Joyce mom, it was a new feeling for her, having a mother, “would let me stay at Lily’s this Friday?”

“Uh, I guess so,” he wasn’t paying that much attention. All of it was concentrated on trying to draw Eddie’s D&D next to the Party’s characters. Eddie had become Will’s best friend on Chicago. Eddie had clear that he was only the ‘Best Friend’ there, and that Mike would always be Will’s best friend. Well, sometimes Will doubt that. Mike was barely calling lately. And most of the time he would stay talking to El. The tension after their fight in the summer hadn’t really left.

“Will?”

“Yes?”

He was getting kinda annoyed. Not because of El asking that much questions, that was as common as school homework, but because he really wanted to focus. Eddie’s character was standing next to Will’s, and to his other side stood Mike’s. From left to right the characters would go: Eddie, Will, Mike, Dustin, Lucas, Max, and El. Will hoped that if the rest of the Party met Eddie they would like him and it wouldn’t be like Max all over again. Eddie had the bonus point that he also liked D&D. Maybe that was why he was getting frustrated over the drawing, he really wanted to make Eddie fit in.

“Lily likes you.”

“Uh, nice.”

“She likes you like, boyfriend like you,” she was now sitting looking at Will’s bed.

“Good to now.”

“Would you be her boyfriend?”

“El, if she likes me then she should ask me.”

“But would you?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Cause, no.”

“You never go out.”

“I just- don’t want to,” Will was getting, not mad, but sad. There was one clear motive for him not wanting to go out with her.

“What about Max?”

“No.”

“Princes Leia?”

Will throw his sketchbook to the floor and faced El. “No, El! I wouldn’t go out with any of them.”

“Why?”

“BECAUSE IM FUCKING GAY! I WOULDN’T DATE LEIA, I WOULD DATE HAN SOLO! I WOULDN’T DATE LILY, I WOULD DATE EDDIE! I WOULDN’T DATE MAX, I WOULD DATE MIKE!” Will stopped there, tears running down his cheeks.

He threw himself onto his bed and covered his face with a pillow. That was the first time he had admitted that truth aloud.

El looked curious, she stood from her bed and sat on Will’s. “What does ‘gay’ mean?”

Will sniffed and took the pillow of his face. “You- you don’t know what gay means?”

“I think I’ve heard it. I remember a guy at Hawkins called you that when you were missing. Mike pushed him.”

He laughed. “Of course he did,” not knowing whether he referred to Mike or, the Hawkins guy, most likely, Troy. “Gay is when, a guy likes another guy in a dating way. Like me, I don’t wanna have a girlfriend, I want to have a boyfriend.”

“Oh, well, then why are you crying?”

“Because, people tell me its wrong, sin, even a sickness. We are call ‘fags’, ‘fairies’. And I- I honestly don’t know what to believe anymore. My dad used to say I was a mistake. That he wouldn’t raise a gay son. And so he didn’t. I just, hate myself so much. I just wonder if I would do better to the world if I weren’t in it at all.”

El grabbed Will by the shoulders and made him look at her in the eye. “Will, there’s nothing wrong with you. You are not sick, you are not a mistake. I know what’s it like not fitting in,” she hugged her adoptive brother as he broke into her shoulder, “you just need to find people to help you. And I may not be an expert on what ‘common’ people do, but I’m there for you. You’re my friend and my brother.”

Will continued to cry, saying stuff like ‘thank you’ and ‘I’m sorry’. El didn’t know what he could be sorry about, but decided that that wasn’t a moment for questions.

“I just feel like all of this is so stupid, you know?” Will said after a pause.

“I don’t think so. We can talk about boys together now!”

They laughed let the hug lose. Involuntarily Will looked over a photo pasted on his wall he had with Mike and said, “Love makes you so dam stupid.”

El didn’t notice Will staring at the picture. “It also makes you crazy,” she said. A voice inside Will said Well, if we are going crazy, then we are going crazy together, right? He smiled and dried the last tears that had fallen. “Yeah, I guess it does,” and after a pause he added, “El, please don’t tell anyone. I think mom and Jonathan have guessed it but still...”

“Sure, promise.”

Will stand up, took a stretch and while yawning said “I think I’m going to sleep, I’m sleepy.”

“It’s 1-0-4-,” she stopped to correct herself, “10:43. I think I’ll sleep too.”

They washed their teeth and put their pijamas on. Once each one was on their bed Will whispered “Thanks for being a good sister El.”

“No problem.” She smiled for herself.

“Good night.”

“Night.”