#i wrote something

[rs-hawk]

Working on my novel and couldn’t figure out why it felt so empty. I didn’t have any filler. It was all 100% plot. The characters only interacted when necessary. I didn’t prattle on about the scenery or how the birds sounded. I had all my fuller stuff that I loved saved in another file because I “didn’t need it”.

Y’all, I knew this existed in TV shows but it didn’t hit me until this that everything is being whittled down. We are so starving for filler that we snap up anything. I unload all mine on Tumblr or keep it in a massive Google Docs. It SUCKS.

Honestly? Death to plot necessity. Revive filler. Revive unnecessary interactions. Revive just vibing with characters sometimes. I don’t want to just consume the plot and I don’t want to just create the plot either.

[bleedingoptimism]

“I’m sorry Steve, I thought we were just having fun! I enjoyed you taking me out and paying for everything that’s all…” Is what Shelley said to him when Steve walked into the bar and saw her flirting with another guy. 

Obviously, he smiled and shook his head, said everything was okay, ‘Just a silly misunderstanding’ and left, ever so graceful. But the second he was outside he cursed, tried not to shed a tear, failed, and then started laughing. 

He probably looks like a mad man, or a drunk. But no, don’t worry people, he’s not drunk or crazy, he’s just really, really stupid. He thought Shelley really liked him, he thought they were dating. And Shelley just assumed he was just another playboy so she played him back. He’s not even mad at her. She didn't mean to hurt him. It’s not her fault Steve is just so easy to hurt. 

Sighing, he gets his phone out to get an uber and hugs himself even though it’s not really that cold outside, waiting for his car, already imagining the big, greasy burger he’s going to order when he gets home. He deserves it, okay?

The car that pulls out has definitely seen better days, but it’s clean and comfortable so Steve doesn’t think twice about getting in. He offers the driver a smile through the rearview mirror, sparing a moment to notice his eyes are big and dark, and they crinkle when he smiles back at him. 

Steve sits stiff and straight for a moment before realizing no one is there to judge him right now and he deflates, sighing again and letting himself collapse against the seat. Still hugging himself to feel any sort of comfort, he bumps his head against the window softly a couple of times. 

“Long night?” The driver asks him in a friendly manner.

Steve meets his eyes in the rearview again and shrugs, smiling back crookedly “Thought I should go home early since I already accomplished making an ass of myself for the night”

He checks the uber app for the driver’s name, doesn’t want to be rude by not remembering. ‘Eddie’ chuckles at Steve's statement.

“You did, huh? Well good job on getting it out of the way then,”

Steve chuckles back, “Yeah, I was actually thinking I deserve a treat”

He notices Eddie looking back at him a couple of times before breathing an interested, “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, “A huge cheesy burger or something” Wondering what Eddie was thinking he’d say.

Eddie laughs again, “Oh! Right of course” and just when he’s about to say something else his phone rings.

“Oh, sorry” Eddie murmurs, immediately hanging up on whoever is calling. 

“No worries,” Steve mumbles back, sitting up a little straighter again. 

“So, what’s your favorite dirty burger place?” Eddie asks him. 

Steve can tell he’s trying to distract him from the mood he entered the car with and he really appreciates it.

He sits forward and leans his forearms against the headrest of the passenger seat, “Oh, there’s so many, but…” from this angle, he can see Eddie’s face better, and he can’t help but think he’s got a really nice looking profile, long lashes, full lips, and the cutest nose he’s ever seen, “I think Benny’s the best one” he finishes.

Eddie pulls at a stop light and turns to look at him with a smile and he’s so much prettier than Steve first thought he involuntarily gasps. But thankfully Eddie is talking excitedly and doesn’t seem to notice.

“No way you know Benny’s?! Benny is my uncle! Well, he’s married to my uncle actually- you know what I mean but yeah, Benny’s is great!” 

It’s such a weird coincidence that it managed to take Steve out of his stupor and he’s suddenly just as excited as Eddie,

“Really? Oh my god, I’m so jealous right now, I wished I could live at Benny’s sometimes” 

Eddie laughs, and just when he opens his mouth to reply his phone rings again. This time he doesn’t immediately hang up and Steve sees the screen light up with the name “you deserve better” 

Ouch, he thinks, and his heartstrings tug for his cute, sweet, uber driver. Who offered him friendly conversation cause he noticed he was feeling down and has the most beautiful laugh. He doesn't really know why he feels so strongly about it, he doesn't even know Eddie… but he still feels the text is right. Whoever hurt him, Eddie deserved better.

“Hey,” He says softly when Eddie hangs up cursing.

Eddie sighs again, “I’m so sorry,” 

“Hey, no. It’s fine,” Steve replies, resisting the urge to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

He figures, after the way his night started, he’s got nothing to lose so he says, “So much talk about Benny’s I feel like I need to go there right now.” 

Eddie let’s out a distracted “Huh?” and Steve soldiers on, “Wanna change the destination and join me? You can take me home after,”

He notices Eddie doing a double take and blushing, “Really? I- Am- I- okay” he stammers but Steve can’t really figure out why.

“Yeah, you know, that way you don’t lose time on the job and have another ride?” He finishes and Eddie laughs,

“Oh, right. Yeah That- makes sense”

They keep talking about their favorite things on the menu on the way there and soon they are sitting face to face in a booth at Benny’s.

What a pair they make, Steve in a three piece suit, jacket off, vest undone and shirt rolled up to his forearms. And Eddie with sweats and a hoodie. 

Eddie is even better looking in the shitty dinner light and the blush that adorns his cheeks ever since they came in makes Steve wanna kiss them to feel their warmth.

Benny himself comes to take their order, and Eddie gets up to hug him and introduces him to Steve. They already know each other, because Steve does come to the dinner often and Benny lets Eddie know that.

Eddie thinks it's hilarious that they both have been here so much and never saw each other before, but Steve can’t help to think it’s a shame.

“I actually would’ve loved to have met you sooner,” he tells Eddie at one point and watches curiously as Eddie’s blush turns a few shades darker.

As they eat, Steve tells Eddie about Shelley, about his hopes, about misreading the situation, about his shame. How he doesn’t even think he liked Shelley that much, but he just wanted to have something real. Eddie gets mad at him for blaming himself, tells him it wasn’t his fault, that he’s being too hard on himself. And it’s not a bad thing to consider but all Steve can think about is how cute Eddie looks when he’s mad on his behalf.

Eventually, Eddie tells Steve about whoever was calling him. 

“I met him at my last job. I thought he was so cool but turns out he was actually just cold,” Eddie shrugs, “We dated for like 6 months or something, not that long but, I was miserable the whole time and I didn’t even realize it was because of him.” 

Eddie’s hand is tearing up a paper napkin between them and Steve tentatively settles his hand over Eddie’s, who stops destroying the napkin and smiles gratefully at Steve, holding his hand back.

“The worst part is I didn’t even break up with him, he broke up with me,” Eddie chuckles self-deprecatingly, “But he still wanted to keep me around I guess… And I… didn’t want to feel lonely” 

They both stay quiet for a moment after that, and Steve stares at their hands joined over the greasy dinner table and thinks about loneliness, about how he doesn't feel it right now, with Eddie.

“So, what happened?” he asks after a bit.

“I did eventually realize he was the one making me feel like shit so I stopped seeing him but he didn’t appreciate my new sense of self-respect,” Eddie says lightly and Steve instinctively squeezes his hand protectively, which makes Eddie smile again, “I’m doing just fine now though, I told him to fuck off and got a new job. And it’s actually pretty good, ya know?”

Steve can’t help but smile back at Eddie’s cute expression, “Yeah?”

“Hell yeah, my own hours? Good money? Plus I’ve always liked driving around, it calms me. And I get to meet really interesting people…” he says, winking at Steve and making him chuckle.

“Well, I’m glad then. Proud of you for getting out of there,”

“Me too,” Eddie says and looks up as Benny walks over to them.

“Sorry to interrupt boys, but we are about to close for the night,” He says, stifling a yawn.

Steve looks surprised at his watch, it’s almost 2 A.M. He can’t believe he’s been sitting here with Eddie for hours when it only felt like a few minutes.

He offers to cover the bill but Benny fights him over it and says it’s his treat. And Eddie offers to take him home no charge. So they get in Eddie’s car again only this time Steve sits next to him instead of in the back and they talk about music on their way to his place while Steve changes the radio stations. Laughing, singing and joking around, it’s such a good time. It feels like they’ve been doing this forever, like they could do this…forever. But eventually they arrive at Steve’s building and suddenly Steve doesn’t want the night to end. 

He’s about to tell Eddie as much, maybe invite him inside, when his phone rings again, the ‘you deserve better’ staring at them. But Eddie immediately grabs his phone and hangs up, blocking the number after. 

“There, he can’t call me again,” he says with a sigh.

“Can I see your phone for a second?” Steve ventures, making a last second decision.

Eddie looks surprised but curious as he hands it over and Steve punches his phone in.

“If you ever feel like unblocking him, or calling him back… Why don’t you try calling me instead?” he says in a rush and then walks out of the car, not lingering to see Eddie’s reaction.

There’s always the positivity that he got things wrong again, got too invested too soon again and he doesn’t want to know tonight. He’ll deal with it later, if Eddie doesn't call.

🚗📱🍔💙

It takes only two days for Steve’s phone to ring, an unknown number flashing on his screen. He picks it up feeling a little out of breath for no reason at all.

“Hello?” 

“Steve?”

“Eddie, I”

“Wait- before you say anything I just want you to know that I didn’t call because I wanted to call him, or I was thinking about him. I called because I can’t stop thinking about you, I wanted to talk to you. Okay?”

“Eddie- yes! It’s more than okay, I- I was hoping you’d call”

fin 💙

☕🥐💕 coffee? oovoo javer?

[void-bitten-ghost]

Modern Mizu hears you like a bit of 'danger and excitement' from one of your friends, so she takes you to an underground fighting ring for like, your fifth date. This is after the gun range fiasco, so you've already seen a side of Mizu that not many have been allowed to see.

When she mentions this idea you're like, so fucking excited but still kinda like??? There's one of these here????? Nearby????? Holy shit yes???? Please?????? That's so cool?????

She specifically avoids answering how she knows it exists. This isn't about her. This is about sharing an experience she loves and you've shown interest in.

She picks you up on her bike (because Of Course she would have a motorbike that's like either this hand-me-down or a fixer-upper she restored) and you go. It's exactly what you thought it would be, off vibes and dodgy people, but being with Mizu somehow makes you feel safe because she's confident. But it's not an arrogant kind of confidence, it's a steady, assured sort of confidence that puts you right at ease as she takes your hand and leads you through the crowd.

Now, something you don't know is this is not Mizu's stomping grounds. Not even close. But she knew it by name and reputation and it was close enough you could both make a night out of it rather than three. Although... she wouldn't mind if that were to happen--

She snaps back to reality when you step forward and holler out encouragement to the scrawnier one of the two currently in the ring. The corner of her mouth quirks at your enthusiasm, a brow lifting and a hip popping as she crosses her arms to just. Watch you. As you lose yourself to the energy of the room.

The match ends with the scrawny one getting his ass handed to him by the dude built like a brick shit-house. She expected as much. It takes a certain amount of skill to be able to take a mountain of a man like that down while having such a slight build. She'd know, after all.

Anyway. Everything is going swimmingly until some prick pushes his luck trying to get your attention. You very bluntly tell him he's barking up the wrong tree and he does not take the rejection well. Mizu tries to not intervene directly with your battles too often. You're a capable person, it's one of the things she lov- likes. Likes about you.

But then the burly fuck reaches for you. You smack his hand away and go to headbutt him. She grabs you by the waist before you could start the climb to reach and if you weren't so riled up you might have short circuited at the feel of her calloused hand on your skin.

"This bitch yours, mutt?" He grunts to Mizu, and you see fucking red.

"You fucking dare call her a mutt you jumped up little cun--"

"Yes," she says over you, calm as a still lake, and you do actually short circuit at Mizu calling you 'hers'. The heat of anger in you switches gears to something far sweeter, but no less scalding.

"And I would appreciate it if you didn't upset her," Mizu says, her fingers trailing to your hip and gripping a belt loop possessively. You can suddenly feel every point of contact. Hip, arm, chest...

That's when the man looks at Mizu. Really looks at her with a lean forward and squinted eyes, looking over her tinted shades.

"Onryo," he breathes, and you feel Mizu tense behind you. She hadn't heard that name for a good long while. It was a name from her troubled youth. One she thought was long behind her since going legit.

"You're a long way from home, demon."

"What of it?"

You could sense something was happening as the two spoke in what you thought was an amicable tone, but then Mizu is pulling you behind her and shedding her jacket. You take hold of it instinctively as she went to drop it on the ground and she finally turns your way.

"Everything is fine," she tells you in that same confident tone, but she must see your confusion and anxiety written on your face because she takes your chin in her hand and gives you a quick peck on the lips. You stand there with a stupid, dumbstruck look she grins at as she--

She's heading to the ring. She's heading to the middle of the ring and she's shedding another layer as she climbs over the freshold oh dear gods you don't know what to do. What to think. Holy fucking shit she's right there in a sports bra and baggy pants while wrapping her knuckles-- where did she get wrappings from?????

You're more than short circuiting at this point. You need a soft reboot. Maybe a full reboot at this rate since she's sliding off those tinted glasses and-- oh.

You see her eyes.

You've seen them before, of course. But not like this. Not with this intensity behind them. Like she's looking right through her opponent to predict every single movement his future self might consider making. That indomitable focus had you flushing with heat from head to toe as you watched, mouth parted, breaths quickening.

She floors a man twice her size and three times the bredth and your knees might give out. Are you swooning? You might just be fucking swooning holy fuck--

But then she gets gut punched and then tackled by a secret second opponent and you snap back into the whole situation.

You scream out encouragement to Mizu until your lungs feel dry, and then you scream some more. You want to be the loudest. You want Mizu to hear you and know you're rooting for her while she wipes the floor with these cheating bastards.

There's four of the fuckers now. Four all dressed in similar... you hesitate to call them uniforms. More like they all shopped at the same tec-wear store at the same time. But shit are they fast. You have the slightest moment of worry when you see the glint of metal fly past in one of their fists--

Mizu breaks thier arm with a sickening twist and a wet 'crack', and you think you might never have been so turned on in your entire fucking life.

(And also you might need to address and analyse some things about yourself later...)

The metal drops to the floor with an audible clang and a loud noise goes off somewhere. You're going to be honest, you're not really paying attention to anything else other than how Mizu moves around her opponents. Even outnumbered she holds her own, muscles coiled and yet her movements are smooth like flowing water. You can't help but think of the type that wears away cliffsides and cracks apart mountains, because that's what she's doing. She's fighting smart where they're fighting with force, and she is kicking their fucking asses--

Others converge on the ring, the crowd flooding in to hold them all down and you can't help but notice it takes five fully stacked men to hold Mizu down. And even then that only lasts about seven seconds before she breaks free, methodically picking them all off one by one before she launches herself into the now turbulent crowd.

That's when you panic, shouting for her while elbows and shoulders send you this way and that. You narrowly dodge a fist to the face before a hand grabs yours. You're ready to swing right back when you lock eyes with those sharp blues you so adore.

You both book it out, avoiding flailing limbs and thrown table legs. You've somehow still got Mizu's jacket in the crook of your arm when you both make it outside and keep running, only stopping when the sound of sirens was long, long off in the distance.

You're both curled over in a dark, dank alleyway, breaths haggard and coming out as clouds in the crisp night air.

You look up from your knees, ass pressed against the brick wall to support your wobbly legs, and you can't help but crack a grin when you see Mizu in a similar state, only just realising what the fuck just happened.

The grin breaks into a laugh when Mizu looks to you with a bright smile of her own, it's a wheezing thing at first, but then it becomes a full belly laugh when she joins you. And oh, is that such a rare sight. Mizu losing herself in a laugh and then looking at you with the most beautiful full face smile you've ever seen in your life.

Your giggles die in the face of that smile, replaced with a quiet awe and probably the dumbest looking lovesick stare--

Steps. Multiple steps approach the alley and Mizu's first and only instinct is to hide and protect you, pressing you back against the wall and covering your mouth with her hand, catching your yelp of surprise before it could really become an external sound.

And ohhhhh, what a predicament you find yourself in. Pinned to a wall by this very strong and capable and, evidentally, dangerous woman who took you out tonight to a place you would only dream of going to and protected you the entire time and then caused a room wide fight to break out that she was, up until that point, winning--

Ohhhh my phone is currently dying a death imma have to post and carry on later because my brain is a bastard that way 🙃

[mulderfiles]

[confusedshades]

inspired by this post by @thekitsunesiren and influenced by the additions of @fantasticstoryteller

[the-ellia-west]

Servant’s Tears

Alkain Short Story 1/3

It's a little long... sorry Lovelies <3

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

Pherea sighed, wiping sweat from her brow as her eyes found the large clock tower, a hundred thoughts swirling in her mind at once. But the crack of a whip snapped her attention back to her work. 

“Mamá, can I help?” A voice beside her startled her into dropping the cart with a loud crash.

“Ey! That’s expensive, slave!”

“Kha’ven, My apologies sir.” Pherea bowed her head as her son dropped to his knees, eyes darting to his mother’s bristling tail as he hung his head, his own tail coiling around his legs.

“Sorry mamá, I didn’t mean anything…”

“It’s fine Kain, you don’t have to help me, your portion is done.” She knelt, lifting the cart with all four arms, trembling under the effort before a sudden shift lifted the weight from her shoulders. Pherea’s eyes widened as she turned to her son, who now shook in her place.

“I can do it mamá.” He forced a smile, and she pressed against it.

“No, we work together.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she shot him a look and he shut up quick.

The two worked together for a few more minutes before the slave master shouted the eight-year-old boy to another job, leaving Pherea alone to do all of the heavy lifting herself. It surprised her how strong he was getting these days. He reminded her of his father, a strong, valiant worker. He would have made a good man if he’d had anyone other than her as a mother. After his father had died in a mining accident, the rest of their split debt had been dumped onto Pherea and her son, doubling their work time from ten years to twenty. Alkain would be almost grown by the time they were let off.  

Perhaps she could get him out. But again, her thoughts cut off at the crack of a whip beside her ear. “If you don’t start workin’ woman, I’ll ‘ave yer ‘ead!” The Elf flinched away from the whip and lifted the cart, stumbling as she dragged it behind her. Ever since the cave-in she’d struggled to breathe while working, and today had done a real number on her. But she continued to work, knowing that the edge of the whip would be worse than anything she could reasonably inflict on herself.

Time passed slowly, until Pherea set down the final cart, and stepped toward the slave master to tell him she was finished, breaths coming slowly and difficult as her chest tightened. But halfway to the slave master, she tripped on a rock and crumpled. A shout pulled her eyes up. “Mamám!” Alkain dropped the boxes he was carrying, the wood splintering on the stones as he rushed to her side. “Mamá, are you okay?” 

“Kain… No!” She pushed herself away from the ground as the Slavemaster marched over to them and wrenched the boy from his mother. Both shouted for one another as the slave master forced Alkain toward the other side of the field. Pherea pulled herself to her feet and ran after them as best as she could. She cried out and ran for her son, just reaching him as the whip whistled through the air and a rip of flesh shot a cry of agony between them as Pherea fell back to the ground. The slave master frowned. “Get out of the way, ya stupid wretch!”

Pherea’s hand flew to her face, blood trickling through her fingers “Ah…Ugh… I… I’ll take his punishment…”

The Slavemaster scowled. “Fine. Be my guest.”

“Mamám! No! No! Don’t! Please! Mamá!” Alkain pulled away from the man holding him, but a hand wrenched him to the slave master’s side, the man holding him turned his mother onto her knees and he watched, trembling as the man ripped the back of her shirt, revealing the binds and the whip slashed into her back, cutting a deep scarlet gouge. He flinched, two arms covering his eyes, the other two held back by the slavemaster's second-in-command, who wrenched his other hands away from his eyes as the second strike from the whip came crashing down on her back. 

A horrified squeak escaped Alkain's lips as his mother screamed, panting as blood ran down her back, dripping down her lower arms in thick streams. Another slash sent Alkain struggling in his captors grip, and three more earned him a slap across the face. “That’ll teach ya, insolent woman. It’ll be more next time if ya don’t leave the boy to ‘is punishment. And you, boy. It’ll be you next time if ya ever pull a stunt like that again, understood?”

Alkain shrank away from the slave master, his terrified agreement drowned out by the tolling of the bell, striking the end of their field shift. “Mamá…” He reached out to her, and Pherea let her son help her to her feet as the slave masters cast then to the side and left. Alkain supported his mother as the slavemaster went to converse with a shady figure. But he shook off his curiosity as he and his mother shuffled toward the house, blood trickling down her face from the first strike she had taken to protect him, every step weaker than the last.

But as they reached the door, the head maid startled. “Pherea! What happened to you?”

“She… she took the whip for me.” Alkain hung his head. 

“Alkain! What is wrong with you? You slack off on work and get extra hours for your poor mamám yesterday, and now this!” The head maid cuffed the boy around the ear, “Go, quickly. Get her into a supportive position, I'll be right there. Now scram!”

“Yes ma’am.” Alkain helped his mother toward the servant’s house, praying with every breath she would be alright, scrambling for any way to help her as the head servant and a medic tore him away from his mother and took him from the room. 

Pherea woke hours later to find her son asleep beside her, tear tracks staining his cheeks. She pushed herself away from the bed, waking him with the movement.

“Mamám?”

“Hey, it’s okay Alkain… go back to sleep.”

“But I don’t want to go to sleep. I like talking to you. I'm scared Mamám, I'm scared I'll lose you… like Papá.” He rested his head against her shoulder, and she ruffled his short sandy golden curls, motioning for him to sit beside her. 

The small Elf smiled and crawled up onto the mattress beside her as she hugged him close. “It's not your fault. You did well. Thank you for helping me Alkain.”

“But I hurt you Mamám-”

“No. It wasn't your fault. You weren't the one holding the whip. I will always protect you, I promise. Listen to me Alkain, I love you, and that will never change.”

The eight-year-old elf nestled his face into her top shoulder, and sniffed softly, tears staining her shirt. “Okay Mamá… I love you too.”

…

Pherea woke the next morning to the bell’s toll, shouting of the slave masters rousing her son. Alkain sat up, rubbing his eyes as he braced himself against the mattress.

“Alright Kain. Come on. It's time to get up.” Pherea ran a hand through her son's curls, and Alkain stood.

“Mamá, we can't! Does it still hurt?” Alkain grabbed onto the side of her skirt.

“No, I'll be okay Alkain.” She rustled his hair again and scooped him into her arms as someone rapped on the door.

“Oi! Get up! Or we're gonna go to the ‘ead of ‘ouse and ‘ave ya executed!”

“Alright Kain, get dressed please. We have to go.” 

“Yes Mamám!” The young elf wrestled on his work clothes and scampered after his mother as she lined up straight in the row of workers, wincing with every movement.

The Slavemaster smirked as he saw her and sent her and Alkain to dig up potatoes near the house. The little elf boy frowned as he saw his mother’s pain, and dug as hard as he could, using all four arms for maximum efficiency so that she wouldn’t have to do so much work. But then, a sharp whistle halted him in the middle of his work and the cracking whip caught his mother’s eyes as sparks flared out of the corner of her eyes and shouts rang across the fields. “RUN! FIRE!”

Pherea’s eyes widened as she spotted theflames consuming the piles of crates and she grabbed Alkain’s closest wrist, pulling him to his feet and flung him in front of her as she slowed, doubling over as red seeped through the bodice of her dress. An unspoken dread filled the air as the crackling of flames drowned out any natural sound and thick black colums of smoke blotted out the sun, raining ash over the servants like snow from hell.

“Mamám?” Alkain skidded to a stop just at the corner as the fire reached the house. He rushed back to help her, dropping to his knees as he tried to pull her up, but just as Pherea stumbled to her feet, the fire consumed a window, and the ground beneath their feet rumbled. The older elf then took the best option she could, knowing she wouldn’t be able to run and flung herself around her son.

  And then the world exploded.

Large chunks of rock, splatters of blood, and bits of flesh crackled and sizzled in the flames as shrapnel flew. Alkain yelped and tugged his mother back, just as a large shard of twisted metal and glass pierced straight through her neck, snapping her jugular vein in two. “Alkain…” She crumpled, and he just managed to catch her as fiery splinters of wood and stone sliced into his skin. Her hand cupped his cheek as blood sprayed from her neck, more of it than he ever would have thought possible as her eyes glazed. “Run… go… hide… you are… everything… I…” She trailed off, her hand slipped from his face, and she died.

“Mamá? Mamám! No! No, no, no! Mamám, please!” Alkain clung to his mother’s corpse, begging it for warmth as the foundations of the buildings cracked and boomed into large pillars of flame. Pherea’s blood dripped from his skin and soaked his shirt as the last of it trickled beneath his fingernails and he buried his face into her body, nuzzling as close as her could get. “Mamám…”

But as he laid there, sobbing into her body, she fulfilled her promise to him one last time, corpse shielding him from the sharp objects and smoke long enough for the what to fade from her and Alkain to get his bearings, remember her final words, and run for his life.

(If you made it to the end of this short story, Please comment. Please, just so I know you read it, and also so I know if you liked it or not? Thank you <3 :])

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@

I Love you guys so much <3

[alchemistuniversum]

Recovering❤️‍🩹 & arising like the phoenix 🐦‍🔥❤️‍🔥✨

[ch10srac00n]

While I am still working on the other critters designs, here’s an confort w a bit of angst story (or whatever you want to see this) about our very shy and depressed captain, Cloudy. This is just a small story that I invented out of nowhere, sorry if my orthography or English is not understandable in some point of the history, I am still learning english and it’s not my first language. Thank you for your understanding.

—————————

Dogpressed was bored, very bored, she has tried everything she has imagine for keeping herself entertained, finish her remain work, cook, clean and literally anything she could think of that unfortunately, it wasn’t much. She felt sad and bored, the need to cry was bigger than before as she couldn’t think about something she could do. Dogpressed wanted to cry very badly but she only does that when she’s alone and unfortunately, she wasn’t.

Dogpressed could hear the sounds of something being punched not to far from her room, that clearly was Groddy who was training in his aggressive way. Her, Groddy and Wipin where alone in the ship, each one minding their own business and the rest of the crew was either doing a mission or other thing that Dogpressed have no idea what could be. She could still hear the conversation of her crew talking about how she couldn’t be left alone in the ship for too long, that conversation was still fresh in her mind and could hear the worry in their words, that conversation was repeating over and over again and it was annoying, she needed to do something.

And that’s what she did. Dogpressed stand up from the chair she was seated in her room and walk out of there, she didn’t care where she was going, she just needed to move and find something to do. Her mind was pure static, not a single thought passed through her mind in that moment, it felt like she didn’t have the control of her limbs in that moment, the only thing that she could actually distinguish from all the static in her head was the feeling of being tired and sad. She didn’t realize how tired her limbs were until she was in the living room, the sofa was some steps away from her but it felt very far away and tired for walk directly to it, then she looked at the ground, there was a grey-ish carpet. It looked comfy.

Right now Dogpressed didn’t care if someone sees her sleeping on the ground, it’s not the first time that happens and it will not be the last time that happens, plus, she was too tired for care about it anymore. Dogpressed didn’t even care about grabbing a pillow or blanket, she just threw herself to the ground, her face hitting the ground and an annoying pain covered all her body but she didn’t care, maybe she got some bruises because of the fall but that’s a problem for her future self.

Dogpressed close her eyes in a try to fall asleep, that of course didn’t work but it was way better than being with her thoughts in her room.

She didn't know how many minutes passed until the static of her head became a simple background sound in her mind, she also didn't know when Wipin was with her until she felt her face being lifted from the ground. Dogpressed opening her eyes in the act, half asleep and all disoriented, the first thing that she saw was Wipin, white as a ghost most probably because she was in the floor with no blanket or pillow, sleeping.

“Captain! Oh god… you look terrible! What happened to you?! Are you hurt? Hungry? When was the last time you have eaten?! Oh god… oh god… my captain!” Wipin said while hugging her head, asking questions that Dogpressed was not listening, the touch of Wipin’s feathers was comfortable, she was clearly taken good care of them, the smell of sweet flowers was in her feathers, Dogpressed didn’t care what Wipin was saying in that moment, she didn’t the only thing she was putting attention was the confortable touch, Dogpressed just melted in her touch.

There was silence for a few minutes, Wipin stopped to ask questions when she realize that her captain was not listening to her, Wipin only felt cuteness for her captain, maybe it wasn’t the right moment, but she tried her best not to care.

“Seriously? Couldn’t you get into the damn sofa instead of fucking sleeping in the shitty floor?” Groddy speak, breaking the confortable silence that was between the captain and Wipin, his voice have a his classical anger with a bit of worry.

Groddy let out a sigh and grab the captain’s hip and throwing her in his shoulder like a bag of potatoes.

“What you were doing in the floor, boss? You didn’t grab a fucking pillow or blanket, have you have eaten already?” Groddy said, his voice filled with affection and worry, completely different from a moment ago.

“Well of course you fucking didn’t… let’s gonna feed you and later will see what we do with you boss”

“I..I’m going to prepare something for her to eat…” Wipin said while running to the kitchen

“Good idea, now… what I’m going to do with you, boss?”

—————

Probably half an hour has passed by, Dogpressed was obligated to eat a sandwich by both Groddy and Wipin, which was a success. Then they try different activities that consisted in various things like making new strategies for battle and other things, which resulted also in success in distracting Dogpressed from any thoughts or other things that were traveling in her mind minutes ago.

Now, the trio was in the sofa, covered in a big blanket that was supposed to be Floppy’s but forgot it in the living room and it was too late for gain it back, basically becoming everyone’s blanket, usually ending in a trap for Dogpressed when she overworking herself and now, Dogpressed looked like a fucking burrito as she was wrapped in the blanket, she couldn’t move and the fact that she had both Wipin and Groddy hugging her, both deeply asleep in a strange pose that remembered Dogpressed to a domino effect. But she wasn’t going to say anything or wake both of them for her to be able to move and go to her room to sleep.

Even if this was kinda strange, she felt comfortable with both of her crew mates by her side, even if she was like a living pillow that looked like a fucking burrito, she didn’t care, actually she was glad she could have this moment with both of them, Dogpressed trusted both and they where almost family for her. She was so glad that she wasn’t alone in the ship, she was glad to have this moment with them.

“Thank you… both, sleep well” she said, knowing well that either both of them heard her talk, this was maybe the first time she spoke in..months? Years?Her voice felt quite out of place, raspy but very quiet and sweet, she couldn’t remember the last time she even heard her own voice. Maybe she should speak more. Or at least not as a whisper. That maybe could help.

—————————

Hello all! Hope you enjoy this silly little story that I written, sorry if it’s not that understandable time to time, I imagine this in my native lenguaje and as I said in the start, I am still learning English. Anyway, hope you enjoy this an maybe I will make another story about the critters being chaotic.

Space riders AU belongs to @onyxonline and Dogpressed, Groddy and Wipin belongs to Eggritos in X.

[aurkitnarulaoge]

But it shouldn't be like that.

Love shouldn't be a curse. It should be a garland— it was made to be adorned.

[rs-hawk]

Fluff only for this one. Woman Reader (sex irrelevant)

Your Godly lover had given you immortality after They nearly lost you. They couldn’t bear the idea of losing you. You hated Them for it even all these centuries later. You had to watch your family grow old and die. Your younger siblings. Their children. Their children’s children. Eventually you couldn’t even be around their descendants. It was too hard. All you could do was set up a trust fund each time you found out another had been born. You still had to take care of them somehow. They were all that was left in this world of your family.

You were a whispered legend in the county you lived in. Some thought you were a Spirit of the Forest that was from the pre-Colonization of the area. Some said you were a monster, lurking and read to eat unsuspecting youth who wandered into your trees. Others said you were stolen by a man who killed you. Very few whispered the truth, because those who had eventually were forced away from the area to allow it to be settled.

It wasn’t until some of your youngest sister’s descendants moved back to the area that you allowed yourself to peek at them. You’d find excuses to go to town, to find them. Your sister had been gorgeous. Maybe the most beautiful woman aside from your mother that you’d ever seen. She was tall, with eyes like clay, hair like midnight and skin so smooth you always wanted to be the one to paint it. Her descendant was none of those things aside from beautiful.

Her eyes shun like the midday sky, with hair that curled and twisted in ways you’d never imagined before the settlers came. Her face was round and childlike despite the life line that aged her face. Her skin burned easily in the sun that your sister loved, but there was ink on that skin. A permanent painting of a bird. You couldn’t help but smile. The more you saw her, the more you wanted to get to know her. You were attached. You did get to know her. You two chatted, and her voice sounding like a melody. You loved her. She was almost like her sister had come back to you.

Then she died.

You felt like your heart was torn out of your chest. You screamed, cried, begged your Godly former lover to let you die, but They didn’t. Then, a few days after, you stood at the edge of her funeral, watching her cold body be lowered into the ground. You saw her husband standing there with their child. A beautiful little girl who reminded you so much of her mother.

It wasn’t long until you saw that same beautiful little girl curled up in a ball in the middle of the woods, sobbing. Her father said he wanted to go camping, then left her. You couldn’t let the search party find her. They would give her back to that man who said she ran off, and she was too young to deny it.

As you sat with her head in your lap and she started to fall asleep, having washed the dirt out of her golden hair, your Godly former lover appeared before you.

“This will hurt. It always does.”

You look at Them, your lower lip trembling. “I know, but I had to save her. He would have just done something else if this didn’t work.”

They look down at the little girl, tilting Their head. “Her heart reminds me of hers. Pure. Soft. She will grow up to be kind, just like her.”

“I miss her,” you whisper, voice cracking as you look down at the sleeping child.

Your Godly former lover lays Their hand on your shoulder, squeezing it softly. “I’m sorry for what I did to you. I love you.”

“I know. I wish you didn’t.”

“I know… me too.”

[bleedingoptimism]

part one -> 📱💞🚙

The first video goes viral. They get a lot of new traffic on their page, and half of it gets curious about their music, and half of the curious ones even become fans. So the series is already a success with only one video out. 

In the second video, Eddie, still blushing but smiling cheekily introduces Steve, who is all smiles and sunshine wrapped up in muscle and tan skin and people eat it up.

Then the actual process begins, and it's genuinely informative and quite good, Steve really knows what he's doing and he seems to have a passion for it that makes his eyes shine whenever he's explaining to Eddie what they are doing and what for.

It’s also fairly comedic, the series. Eddie keeps tripping all over his own feet making funny remarks to make Steve laugh. They both work on the van, because Eddie wants to get his hands dirty too, so Steve stays close behind, whispering instructions and murmuring praises while he works that have Eddie sweating and blushing from things that are completely unrelated to the manual labor and looking at the camera like he’s in the office.

It becomes kind of a thing because Eddie knows Steve doesn't watch the videos and everyone already knows from the first video that Eddie has a little crush on him. So he thinks it is just innocent fun that when Steve is working and Eddie has the phone in his hands instead of the tripod, he sometimes zooms on his back, his arms, the sweat on his neck, and then back to his face, sighing and shaking his head slowly.

TikTokers even start shipping them, saying Eddie has very clear cat energy and Steve is the most golden retriever boyfriend-coded man on the planet.

But something shifts as the videos go on, Eddie’s quips are less jokey and more just pure admiration for Steve’s work. When they film a time-lapse the audience can see them working together, bumping shoulders, Steve looking at Eddie and looking away when Eddie looks at him. And when Eddie is filming there are no more jokes about him pining on camera. It is just scenes of Steve laughing, or just smiling, working while he whistles. Zooms of his eyes, his nose, the highlights on his hair, the way the moles on his cheek move when he smiles crookedly at something dumb Eddie says.

The whole series becomes a documentary about how Eddie fell in love with Steve and then… it's complete. It's done. The van is finished. Eddie films one last video thanking Steve for everything, and making one last flirty joke about taking him for a ride. Steve laughs and runs a hand through his hair, telling Eddie he’s welcome. And that is it. The series is done. 

It drives everyone insane because they love it of course, but also. Because it seems… unfinished. It's kind of a mess, Corroded fans are fighting the shippers and the shippers are accusing Eddie of queer bating, which he thinks it's fuckin hilarious and sad because it's his literal life they are talking about. 

But the truth is, there’s nothing more to tell. They had a real conversation after Eddie stopped filming, a proper thanks and hug goodbye. And then Steve just left. He never made a move. And Eddie tried, he really tried. He insinuated, flirted, complimented. But Steve was either not interested or completely clueless (probably because of how uninterested he was).

And now Eddie has a beautiful van, completely equipped for two people to travel in style. And no one to share it with. So he stays at home, wrapped up in a blanket and watching the comments on his tiktoks, laughing and then crying with the way people describe how palpable their chemistry is. And he misses Steve. He keens, he pins, he craves.

part three ->📱💞🚙

☕🥐💕 coffee? by the side of the road?

[brutal-nemesis]

big question!! dude can we please see a scene in the AU where castys has his tongue cut off and he has to deal with that? like man, the shock and the pain and the fuckin grief? and neteri just being herself ofc

anyway the latest erebus chapter was heartbreaking you’re so good at being awful to these lads (i can’t stop reading)

Thank you I try,,,,,

Okay strap in fellas I think this is banger as hell I had a great time and let me know if you have any other requests for the AU!

Ingredients: shockingly, tongue gets cut off! some suffocation as well

Castys wasn’t great at sitting in chairs normally, something his parents had always reprimanded him for, but, hey, they’d never taken it as far as to fucking tie him to one, and Castys was grateful. This shit was uncomfortable. Like, yeah, the rough ropes around his wrists and ankles were tight and itchy, but also the position just sucked. Not that he’d rather be standing or something-

“You must be Castys!” The door had swung open, and now this little lady with a white coat on was walking up to him. 

“Yes, I’m Castys,” he said flatly as she scurried behind him before coming back without her bag. And then she just…stared at him. Castys wasn’t sure what she was looking at, since there really wasn’t much to see, just, like, him. Eventually her eyes wandered up to his, and she jumped in place a bit.

“Oh, right, I’m Neteri.” She stuck her hand out like she expected him to shake it.

“You know I’m tied up, right?”

“Ah. Yeah.” Her skin was dark enough that it wasn’t immediately obvious that she was blushing, but Castys was pretty sure she was. She ended up awkwardly grabbing his right hand and shaking it a bit. “I, um, I’ll be preparing you for this afternoon. Sorry, I’m just a bit nervous.”

“Well, you’re not tied to a chair so I think you’ll be okay.”

She laughed. “You’re right, you’re right, but I’m just…I think I’m going to do something I’m not supposed to do.”

Castys raised an eyebrow. “Let me go because I’m funny?”

Neteri rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, so clearly she did think he was funny. “No, you’re staying put, sorry bud. But I think I’m going to keep you. You’re kind of perfect.” She tried to cup his cheek in her hand, but Castys leaned away, staring at her with wide eyes.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” His mouth was really dry all of a sudden, he wasn’t perfect, he was a fuck-up, a useless heir, that had been his goal, he wasn’t good at anything he was supposed to be good at, he wasn’t well-mannered or polite, he had a huge fucking scar on his face and a lopsided smile because of it, he was filthy and vulgar and didn’t have any interest in getting married he was absolutely anything but perfect. So why the hell did she want him?

“It’s not important right now. You’ve got a big day ahead of you!” She clapped her hands, dismissing the subject entirely. He wanted to press her further, but after seeing the lovely object she pulled out of her pocket, everything else was forgotten.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Aw, what are you gonna do about it, Castys? I thought you were tied to a chair!” Great, now it was his turn to feel his face grow hot, because, yeah, what the fuck was he gonna do?

Normally, he doubted he’d immediately recognize it for what it was, but today, right now, after just being told this lady wanted to keep him, it was instantly clear. And Neteri was right, he was only able to squirm uselessly and lean away as she wrapped the collar around his neck without much trouble. His first swallow after she’d sealed it shut felt horrible, and he absolutely did not want to get used to it.

“See, it’s not so bad. It looks cute on you!” She ruffled his hair, which only made Castys more uncomfortable.

“I don’t want to be cute. I’m not a fucking dog.” He wasn’t sure whether the collar was part of Neteri’s weird desires or just to humiliate him, but either way he hated it.

“No, you’re not, but you’re also not a prince anymore, and you’re the property of the Xernan Empire, and this is a good reminder of that,” Neteri said as she walked around behind him, probably to her bag. Castys rolled his eyes. He didn’t need to be reminded that he wasn’t a prince, since it was his favorite new development in all of this. Unless…unless it wasn’t just a reminder for him, but for everyone else, too…He really, really hoped there wasn’t going to be some sort of public display, but given how Neteri’d said he had a “big day” ahead…fuck, that was probably the case, huh?

“Now, I’m going to…oh, I might get in so much trouble for this,” Neteri muttered as she stared at the floor, standing in front of him once again. She had leather gloves on, which would have been nice earlier when she was touching him, and she was holding…a pair of shears? He didn’t think she’d put on gloves if she was just going to cut his hair, and given that she thought she might get in trouble for it, it seemed like she was going to…maim him somehow. Castys curled his hands into fists as Neteri slapped her cheeks with her palms, still talking to herself. “No, I’m going to do this. I deserve it. It’s not that far off from what the emperor wants. Okay,” she held the shears up and gave Castys a concerningly bright smile. “Any last words?”

For once, Castys didn’t take the opportunity to speak.

Instead, he locked his jaw shut tight, teeth clenched so hard it hurt, lips pressed together, walls of protection around his tongue. 

That’s what she wanted, wasn’t it?

Neteri cocked her head, watching him. “Nothing to say all of a sudden? No jokes?” Her smile disappeared as her eyes narrowed. “You figured it out, didn’t you, Castys? What I’m going to do to you.”

He didn’t bother nodding.

Neteri stepped up to him, her knee on the chair in between his legs, leaning over him, her face right above his as he craned back to avoid her. “You’re going to have to get used to obeying me, Castys.” The cold metal of the shears rested on his cheek. “So open your mouth.”

If there’s one thing Castys was good at, it was disobeying orders.

After a few moments of neither of them moving, Neteri pinched Castys’s nose shut with her free hand, not saying a word. Fine, he could play that game. Hold on as the pressure in his chest built, as his head started to spin, as his vision started to darken, every fiber of his being screaming at him to just give in to the inevitable and take a breath. He could do it quick, a little gasp, fast enough that she wouldn’t be able to do anything. Okay, three, two…

The exhale was shaky, but it was fine, just a quick inhale as he snapped his mouth shut-

His teeth scraped against metal, the sensation sending shivers down his spine.

Neteri stared at him with a detached coldness as she rotated the shears, forcing his jaw open wide, wide enough for her to stick her hand in and grab his tongue, pulling it out despite his attempts to pull it back, turning the shears to the side now, opening them up, the cold blades-

Snip.

Castys’s mouth was hot it was burning he was choking the smell of blood was so strong he was suffocating on it her hand was still in his mouth her fingers pressed against his wound magic piercing through his jaw he’d scream if he had the air and then that was it her hand was gone he lurched forward coughing and spitting blood and saliva all down the front of the threadbare shirt he’d been given and once he saw the discarded little piece of pink flesh on the floor he couldn’t look at anything else he couldn’t believe that was it it was gone it wasn’t in his mouth his mouth was empty there was only the blood still dripping out and when Neteri laid a hand on his back he wanted to growl at her not to touch him but he couldn’t he couldn’t say anything anymore he was quiet nothing to say no thoughts or opinions of his own just how his parents had wanted him-

“It’s alright, Castys, just breathe. It was a little more difficult than it needed to be, but you did it.” And why did it need to be at all? “Just two more things left today and then you can rest. And then hopefully…” Her hand slid up, resting on the back of his neck, on that awful collar, and Castys wanted to scream. He never, ever wanted to belong to her.

But what he wanted didn’t matter anymore.

Castys was dragged out and whipped and branded and left out on display, brought back and patched up by Neteri and given soup that he couldn’t taste, and when the door slammed shut behind her, he finally allowed himself to cry.

His back and chest hurt, of course, the wounds aggravated no matter how he moved or what position he laid in, but he could deal with it. It was nothing compared to what he’d lost, the little pocket of empty space inside his mouth.

Words were all he’d ever have to really fight back, complaining when he was forced to do things he didn’t want to, scaring off all the suitors his parents picked out, jokes keeping him calm when he was scared or upset, even when he couldn’t do anything he could still say something, make sure everyone knew how he felt, and now he was more helpless than ever before and he couldn’t say a single fucking thing. 

He didn’t even know where he was going to end up, either sold off to some asshole or left in Neteri’s clutches, and no matter what, he wasn’t going to be treated like a person. The collar made it pretty clear. He was less than human now, a pet, a lab rat, property, something that didn’t need to have thoughts or opinions anymore. 

He’d rather be a prince after all.

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump 

@starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words​ @misspelledwitch @suspicious-whumping-egg​ @pumpkin-spice-whump​ 

@painsandconfusion @i-can-even-burn-salad @befuddled-calico-whump​ @whumpinggrounds​ @whump-queen​

@whumpedydump

[mossy123302]

This is going more pissa (romantic, correct?) and might have some...implied nsfw....?

My thoughts is very scrambled, and I have so much to say.

I always think about Origins!Smp Philza meeting Q! Missa...

Missa who probably got lost during his way back in his travels of finding Q! Philza a gift! Missa is determined to find the right one, to show how much Philza means to him and that he deserves something better....

But, uh, Missa wasn't currently sure where he was and now he's upset, not angry, but upset... How is he supposed to find the greatest gift, a treasure when he cannot even find his way back home! How?! He was on the right trail and still got horribly lost...He should have just brought a map and compass with him, but he didn't because he was confident with himself that he would find his way back. He always found his way back one way or another, even if it took much longer...but while he tries to find his way back, he'll just keep looking for a good gift for Philza

....

Missa, who, stops in his track when he sees two large familiar wings. Oh, ohhhh, oh lady death spare him, because apparently he was never lost at all?? Philza is here??? RIGHT HERE AND HE DOESN'T HAVE A GIFT- DIOS MIO

Missa was just ready to cry right there and decided he was just gonna have to make up whatever lie and present he has in his backpack, he lost his backpack

Missa was too distracted, muttering and quietly sobbing to himself that he wasn't aware that Philza already noticed his presence.

Well... O! Philza, to be more exact, who immediately noticed a new presence in his territory..his home.... He was curious to see what this new person was, and what bravery they had to be so willing to enter and well.... He wasn't sure what to make of this strange fella who wore a skeleton mask, and dressed in purple and blue with a few chains that seemed to be connected around his neck to his armor shoulder, with another skeleton over it as decoration...

O! Philza is a little disappointed, but he doesn't think this new stranger would have anything good for him...he looks... pitiful and pathetic like some wet cat.

O! Philza was about to leave until suddenly Missa called out for him and he almost tripped over his own feet, because how does this stranger know his name—

Annndd why is he crying— Oh Lady Death help him-

Missa tried to be brave, help him, he tried but he immediately broke down crying because he honestly didn't know what to say or offer as an apology gift, so all he could do was give a sorry lame apology to Philza for not being around and letting him take care of their two beautiful eggs/children all by himself

It took a minute for O! Philza to process and awkwardly stop Missa that he genuinely has no idea who he is or why he is here and that they don't have no kids and if he's gone insane— (O! Philza has standards, thank you very much- While Missa is very cute in his opinion, he doesn't plan on having anymore children nor does he recall ever adopting. Who the heck is Chayanne and Tallulah)

After some awkward conversation, O! Philza did finally offer Missa to stay at a nearby village until he can figure out how to...get him back to Quesadilla Island, back to his Philza and his kids. Missa is forever grateful to this weird other version of his platonic husband, and decided he'd lighten up the village as a thank you!

....How does one lighten up a village anyways?

..Missa will figure it out.

Missa itches every little instinct in O! Philza, and it's such a curse and blessing. The way Missa screams, and immediately clings to O! Philza without any hesitance, crying for him to save him.

The way Missa found some bravery in him to finally ask if he could preen his wings, because gods, he knows how important wings are to them and he wasn't gonna let O! Philza walk around, with dirty wings, like that any longer. He was so gentle as he tended to every feather and even as an extra bonus, he gave a massage to O! Philza and his wings as well!

Missa, in O! Philza opinion, is a god send...

Missa is super attentive, makes delicious meals that he's never heard of before and most of all, despite being weak, he still tries and is willing to put himself out there if it means his family and friends were safe. O! Philza may have...purposely stopped searching for a way to send Missa back and instead send Missa further and deeper into the forest...deeper where no one can find him.

Further away from civilization. O! Philza wanted to be the one to save him each time, to be the only one he speaks with... But Missa already has a home, his own Philza and kids.

That burned deep in O! Philza brain. Missa wasn't mated, as far as he can tell, there's no bite mark, no scent or anything (Though it could be because Missa has been traveling so the scent must have worn off), and yet he has kids! Literal actual children they take care of and takes after those two...

Now O! Philza loves kids, don't get him wrong, but even he doesn't know where Missa came from and as far as he can tell, someone must have purposely dropped Missa here without telling anyone and now he's just stuck here, so oh well.

But Missa never stops talking about them....He doesn't stop. He talks and talks about them, and O! Philza wonders how red Missa's face will get if he kisses him to shut him up.

Will Missa quiet down if he gave Missa kids?

O! Philza isn't quite sure of what anatomy Missa has, but he knows Missa isn't human at all to some degree, so it's possible...he could....

The idea of Missa being— He's getting distracted. He could just fetch some other fledglings from another nest, but...he knows it won't quiet Missa for long. It's not his biological ones, not the real ones but...

...Hm.

Mm.

O! Philza might not be so against the idea after all of Missa entering his nest. It has been awfully quiet and empty anyways...

[wildlyglittering]

Illyrian Comfort Pie

I shared a post with some Christmas OTP prompts and asked if anyone wanted any for Nessian and @dustjacketmusings chose:

"Every country has different traditions for Christmas when it comes to food: trying something new when they have always eaten the same dishes for the holidays feels wrong at first. But when it’s cooked with love by their favourite person, it can sure taste like new traditions."

I don't know if this entirely fills the prompt and it's a lot rougher than I'd like but please enjoy!

Illyrian Comfort Pie

“Fuck you, Morrigan.” Nesta wiped her bare arm across her brow, spices and herbs transferring straight from her forehead onto her forearm, the little green and orange specks dusting her skin. “And fuck you Rhys come to that.”

The alarm on her phone screamed and Nesta whirled around in her small kitchen space. She’d put the device down earlier, stabbing at the timer with a flour covered fingertip whilst trying to shove her pie into the oven.

Where the hell had she put the damn thing?

On the counter stood an open cookbook entitled ‘Recipes from the Heartland of Illyria,’ a bottle of wine which doubled as a rolling pin and cooking motivation, and Nesta’s pathetic pastry attempts one, two, and three – each one slightly less gloopy than the last - until she finally made semi-successful attempt number four.

No phone.  

Nesta let out a noise halfway between a screech and a yell, her hands reaching either side of her head, ignoring whatever food stuff would end up in her hair.

“Shit!” At least she managed to remember what the phone alarm was for, swivelling behind her and yanking down the oven door, reaching for the mitts as she ducked a plume of smoke.

This one didn’t smell too bad. Nesta grabbed the pie and shoved it onto the trivet on the counter. The crust was a little singed on one side but, if she was careful, she’d be able to scrape that off.

Her movements jostled a reem of paper towels and as they fell to their side, they revealed the object of Nesta’s irritation. One phone.

“Thank you,” she muttered, her eyes drifting upwards to the ceiling as she turned off the alarm. Her thanks was to whatever cookery god was willing to listen and half to the smoke alarm not going off.

Three notifications waited for her. She took a breath in and hit open on the first one.

Hahaha. You agreed to what?! Even *I* run from making that dish. Pretty sure my *grandmother* ran from making that dish and she used to be a baker. Anyway, are you coming Thursday?

Emerie. Not providing the answers Nesta was so desperately hoping for, instead reminding Nesta she had yet to confirm drinks with her and Gwyn. Nesta typed out a quick response.

Yes to Thursday. Any chance your grandmother would attempt making this again if I paid her?

Sent. Nesta moved onto notification number two - Feyre.

Did you want me to see if the Illyrian restaurant down Sidra Street will do a delivery? If you put it in the oven for a bit and burn the edges no one will know.

Nesta raised an eyebrow. The audacity of her sister to assume Nesta would need assistance and that she’d burn the pie. She had burnt the pie but still, the audacity.

She chose not to respond to that one and instead moved to the final notification. Cassian. Nesta took a deep breath and hit open.

Are you having as much fun as I am? Thinking I could do this as a side hustle.

There was a photo attached. Cassian had taken a selfie of himself standing in front of his obnoxiously large quartz kitchen counter. His dark hair was tied in a messy bun and he winked into the camera. He wore an apron Nesta had never seen before, deep red with candy cane striped ties and in Christmas style writing was embroidered ‘Kiss the Chef’ underneath a sprig of mistletoe.

Nesta squinted at the image, zooming past Cassian himself to the dishes behind him slightly out of frame. Was that a bowl of perfectly glazed parsnips? A tray of immaculate shortbreads?

She let out another noise and flung the phone back onto the counter so she could press her palms into her eyes. At this point she was covered in flour, meat juice, and soggy pastry pieces. Sweat gathered under her breasts and trickled down her back from the constant heat of the oven.

Nesta had been baking for over six hours now and though there was a small part of her which wanted to cry, she refused. Although she’d cursed Morrigan and Rhys the biggest ‘fuck you’ should have been delivered to Nesta herself.

She’d agreed to this when she should have declined, and now her pride would cause her to take a fall.

There had been five of them for drinks at Rita’s. Should have been two – only Nesta and Cassian for their quiet post theatre drinks, but Morrigan had been there with other friends who she swiftly abandoned as soon as she saw Cassian arrive.

Within minutes Morrigan had called Feyre and then before Nesta knew it, she was being squished into a booth, Cassian to her left and Feyre to her right, while she sipped her chilled white wine and counted the minutes until it was socially acceptable to say her goodbyes.

“Oh my god,” Morrigan had been saying. “That was the best dish I think I’d ever eaten. Do you remember it Rhys? The caramelised onions and gravy? What was it called again Cass?”

Cassian groaned and lolled his head back. “Illyrian Comfort Pie. My favourite.” He took a sip of his beer. “The Illyrian army did a version with off-cuts, almost ruined a perfect dish.”

“What’s this pie?” Feyre asked.

“Only the best pie in the world,” Cassian replied, his eyes misting over. “Imagine thick tender beef soaked in its own juices for hours, drowned in rich gravy and embedded with caramelised onions all under a cover of hot crust pastry.”

“You need a room, Cass?” Rhys laughed.

Cassian raised his middle finger to Rhys but joined him in the laughter.

“Cassian’s ex made the best version,” Morrigan said, her eyes sliding to Nesta. “Honestly no one would be able to top it. Bri wasn’t even Illyrian but it was spot on.” She took a long sip from her own glass of red wine. “I guess it doesn’t need to be your own tradition if you care enough to put in the effort.”

There was a heavy silence which would have lingered if not for the clearing of Feyre’s throat. “Who’s got who for Secret Santa?”

“Oh, I’m sure if Nesta put in the effort it would be just as good. Right?” Nesta looked up and met Rhys’ eyes as he ignored Feyre’s question. He smirked as he finished speaking, cocking his own beer bottle to his mouth.

Three more pairs of eyes looked her way. Nesta felt the slight, almost imperceptible tensing from Cassian but it was Feyre’s eyes which widened the most. There was a kick against Nesta’s shin under the table.

“I’m sure it would,” Nesta said, “if I had the time.”

“Cassian was telling us at the bar you’re now on vacation. All your gifts already wrapped and under the tree. Sounds like you have time.”

“Rhys...” Feyre began but Morrigan jumped in.

“I think that would be a lovely Christmas present for Cass. You can start your own tradition now you’re official. Illyrian food is so hearty.”

There was a part of Nesta which was too stubborn for her own good. Rhys’ smirk and Morrigan’s too-wide grin opposite her, the meeting of the cousin’s eyes like this was some in-joke they had just started. Feyre kept kicking her under the table, the jostling movement irritating Nesta further.

The flash of irritation was the problem. That, and the second glass of wine she’d drunk on a half empty stomach fuelling it. Her temperature rose and her skin prickled and instead of counting to twenty like she’d been practicing in her apartment Nesta opened her mouth.

“Fine,” she said, “this whole thing sounds great. One Illyrian Comfort Pie it is. When do you want it? Day after next?” Nesta quickly grabbed her glass to take a swig of her drink before she agreed to anything else.

Cassian’s eyebrows shot up but she didn’t want to meet his eyes, he was probably thinking how Nesta wasn’t implementing those ‘take a moment’ techniques. But his hand reached down to clasp her free one under the table, giving it a squeeze.

“You know what?” he said, looking at the group. “I want in on this. New traditions sound great. You’re making mine so how about yours. What’s the Archeron family dish of choice?” He asked this looking at Nesta but she still had the wine glass clamped to her lips. No longer drinking, just holding it there to feel the cold.

“Ooh,” Feyre said, clapping her hands and jiggling a little on her seat. “Roasted venison, but that’s quite tricky. We haven’t eaten that since Elain went vegetarian. We also had roast potatoes and honey glazed parsnips. Green beans. There was a cheesy mash and – oh, oh, the shortbread biscuits with a chocolate drizzle and the Prythian Pavlova. That’s Nesta’s favourite.”

Cassian laughed. “You want to take a breath there, Feyre?”

In response, Feyre’s stomach grumbled. “No, but I think I need some dinner.”

Aside from Nesta, the table laughed. Her wine glass was now empty and back on the table, her fingers toying with the stem, her mind too preoccupied with the thought of this pie and how the hell she’d even find the recipe.

As the chatter resumed, now about where Rhys and Feyre were going for dinner, Cassian’s weight shifted against her, his arm casually slinging around her shoulders.

“You ok?”

She glanced up at him, plastering a smile on her face. “Absolutely fine.”

“Hmm. Is that genuine fine or Nesta fine?”

Cassian was staring at her intently, concern swimming in his dark eyes. She knew if she immediately conceded he’d let it go, their friendship group knew Nesta wasn’t known for her domestic pursuits and Cassian could whip up a mean dish filled with flavour.

If she really wanted to, Nesta could cheat her way out of this. Getting Elain to bake the pie for her would have once been a consideration until Elain and Lucien’s diet change. No meat, no dairy, no sugar.

No flavour, Lucien had added, ignoring Elain’s frown.

Still, there was something else shining in Cassian’s eyes. Excitement. He was pleased she’d agreed, he relished competition in all its forms and he seemed eager to do this with her.

Nesta’s smile melted in a more genuine one and she squeezed his hand back. “Honestly, it’s good. Dare I say I may even find it fun?”

That was two days ago. Two long days.

“Ha!” She now shouted to her cramped kitchen. “Two drink Nesta has no concept of what the fuck fun is.”

Everything was a mess, even the edges of the cookbook were singed and Nesta cringed at the sight. Gwyn had managed to track down the edition on her behalf and Nesta hated to see a book suffer.

She looked at the clock. Two hours to go – plenty of time to shower, dress up and cart the pie to Cassian’s where they would have a grand unveiling in front of their friends. Her phone pinged and Nesta glanced down to see a reply from Emerie.

She says no chance.

“That’s not a problem,” Nesta said, wiping her hands on her thighs and staining her jeans further. “Because I now have a half decent pie.” She picked up the sharp knife. “Just scrape some of the black bits off and we are good to go.”

The knife slid through the crust and Nesta lifted some of the burnt pastry off using the blade. Odd. What was a deep and crispy brown on the surface seemed pale and soft underneath. Almost as though the pastry hadn’t fully cooked all the way through.

“It’s just this bit,” Nesta told herself. “I’m sure the rest is just fine.” But as she gently lifted the pie-top she could see the same pale colour underneath. Worse was the distinct lack of steam rising from the filling. “No, no, no, no. You’ve been in the oven for almost two hours.”

Grabbing a fork, she stuck it into the dish and scooped out a lump of meat. Juice, which looked far too oily for her liking, dripped off the prongs. Nesta placed the meat on the counter and cut through it with a knife.

She was met with resistance. The beef was still cold. A noise left her throat unbidden, something akin to a half sob. Nesta had researched the best meat cuts for the pie, she’d made sure to go to the best butcher and spent no less than forty-five minutes asking the rather exasperated man behind the counter questions from her list.

Her eyes flew up to the clock. Less than two hours to go. The time she’d budgeted to get ready and go to Cassian’s now shrivelled up. Just like my hopes for this pie.

She peered into the dish, the caramelized onions bobbing in the gravy like some apple bobbing contest gone wrong. “You’re mocking me,” she said and then groaned. They wouldn’t be the only ones.  

Nesta sank down onto her floor, ignoring the drip of gravy she sat on and put her head on her knees. She could imagine it all now; Feyre, Rhys, and Morrigan all dressed up, swanning around Cassian’s apartment waiting to be served their multiple courses.

Feyre’s eyes would go wide at Nesta’s attempt but she’d try and make Nesta feel better and yet somehow by trying, she’d only make Nesta feel worse. Cassian would likely tuck the monstrosity – if she even bothered bringing it – behind some extravaganza he’d made and perform an elaborate distraction.

Rhys and Morrigan would probably just snigger behind their drinks and tell her that ‘at least she tried.’ Patronising fuckers.

A tear dripped from the corner of her eye down her chin.

Nesta had tried. Had really tried. She’d memorised the recipe from back to front before she even started, she’d gone out into Velaris Market with a clipboard, she’d called Elain early for pastry tips ignoring Lucien joining the call to ask Nesta if she could describe what real food tasted like because the memory of butter was fading fast.

She wiped her eyes with her fingers, knowing she must look even more of a state than before. But wait – there was an option open to her. Hope flared yet.

Nesta grabbed her phone from the counter. What had Feyre said? The Illyrian restaurant down Sidra Street might be able to deliver. If anyone served an Illyrian Comfort Pie, it would be them. She scrolled through her favourites for the number. Her and Cassian had eaten there so often, she practically had them on speed dial.

The phone answered after the second ring.

“Hello? Hi. I know it’s late notice but I’m in a bit of a bind and hoping you could help.”

She explained the situation, confirming that yes, her pie request was for that Cassian, the one with the tattoos and arms.

“I mean, I don’t know,” Nesta said, eyeing up the clock and tapping her foot against the cupboard. “I’ll ask him. Some kind of protein shake, I think. Yeah, it’s really glossy hair. I’ll ask him that too. Anyway – the pie?”

They were regretful. Truly. Nesta could almost feel their sorrow down the phone. They didn’t have any pies pre-baked and they wouldn’t have one ready for the time she needed it by. They offered Nesta and Cassian a discount on their next visit and Nesta thanked them before hanging up.

“Well. Shit.”

Her eyes itched and she wanted to cry again but this wasn’t the Archeron way. She shook her shoulders and cleared her throat. There would be no pie but Nesta would be damned if she turned up without bringing anything and looking like a chaotic mess.

The kitchen horror show was a problem for future her, but in less than an hour, she had showered, dressed herself in her most confidence boosting little black dress and practiced her affirmations in front of the hallway mirror.

“You are a calm, confident, capable woman. You did not achieve the pie. Others have probably not achieved the pie. You have achieved other things. Like your best friends, two degrees, and this awesome looking pavlova.”

Nesta held the covered bowl to the mirror as though to show her reflection the cream and meringue evidence. Her lipstick red smile shook a little but the taxi driver was calling to say he was downstairs so there was no time for doubt to creep in.

On a usual night it took too long to get to Cassian’s. The drive was less than fifteen minutes from one end of the small city where Nesta lived to Cassian’s address and every second stretched out painfully slow.

Tonight, it was as though all roads had cleared especially for her just to say ‘look, you can get to your ritual humiliation even earlier.’

“It’s not like I’ve ever seen Rhys or Morrigan cook,” she mumbled to herself as she exited the cab and entered Cassian’s building. The porter nodded and buzzed her in and then Nesta was counting the too-quick numbers on the elevator.

Cassian’s apartment was one of two at the top of the building and though the sound-proofing was excellent, which they could attest to personally, Nesta was surprised at the distinct lack of any festivities sounding from behind his door when she approached.

He answered after one knock, hair freshly washed and dried. His white dress shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and the top buttons were undone, swathes of black swirling tattoos on display.

Cassian let out a low whistle and grinned like a wolf when he saw her. “Well, if it isn’t my favourite lady, in my favourite dress of hers, with my favourite dish.”

He leant in to kiss her and Nesta winced at the mention of food. Cassian’s lips met hers in a chaste kiss but he must have noticed her response as he was frowning when he pulled away.

“Come in,” he said with a light tone. “Let me take that.” He held his hands out for the bowl she was carrying but she clutched it tighter to her body.

“That’s ok, let me find a space to put it.”

“Sure.”

Nesta stepped further into the apartment. Everything was chrome, quartz, or wood but Cassian couldn’t help himself when it came to Christmas. What was once an interior designers dream for a ‘bachelor living’ magazine spread was now a grotto fit for the dreams of any eight-year-old girl.

A smile lifted the corner of her lips. She’d never begrudge him this. Foster care and ten endless churn of care homes hadn’t left Cassian with any sense of home and the orphanage tried their best but lacked the funds.

Cassian had told her that his best Christmas eventually came in the Illyrian military and all that involved was eating dry turkey from paper plates and reading stupid jokes from cheap crackers. But he was with people that felt like family and that’s what mattered the most.

Now, garlands hung from the oversized windows, a tree larger than Cassian himself stood by the fireplace decked with shining ornaments. A range of presents piled up under the tree to the point where they spilled across his floor.

Stockings on the mantel, rugs everywhere, gingerbread houses which increased in number each time Nesta was over. Candles on every surface.

“Wine?” Cassian asked as Nesta slid the bowl onto his counter. She nodded while taking a breath in. Ham and apricot, honey, a distinct scent of rich chocolate. All the food laid out but under coverings to keep them fresh.

Her stomach stank. She’d failed him so miserably.

Her face must have painted a picture because Cassian moved beside her. “Hey, what’s up.” His fingers tucked under her chin, tilting her face to his. Those deep eyes of his, again swimming in concern.

She hoped the best Christmas present she could get him was honesty.

“I fucked it.”

He blinked. “Sorry?”

“The pie, I completely fucked it up.”

His confused blank expression immediately melted and he laughed, his head thrown back and the column of his throat on display. His face in laughter was a delight, he was young and happy and in love with life. “Well, that makes a lot more sense.”

“There is no pie. I botched it.”

He looked down at her, his expression softening, his smile gentle. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t. That pie is an art only the devil knows how to get right. Did you know Emerie’s grandmother won’t even make one and she won Illyrian baker of the year for fifteen years?”

Nesta coughed and reached for the wine poured out for her. “No, I didn’t know that.”

Cassian moved round the counter to Nesta’s dish. “So, what did you bring?”

“The only thing that didn’t involve my oven. The meringue isn’t even home-made. I’m such a sellout.”

He peeked under the covering and exhaled. “Oh, thank the Mother.” He stepped back, his hand over his heart. “I fucked it.”

Now, Nesta blinked at him. “Sorry?”

“The meringue for the Prythian Pavlova. It was the one thing I wanted to get perfect but do you know how hard meringue is to make? I couldn’t even make it to the store.”

He shook his head, grabbing his own glass of wine. “I even rang Elain to ask her for tips but Lucien answered and begged me to tell him in great detail how the filo wrapped parcels were smelling. He said, and I quote ‘go low and take your time’. I’m not sure how comfortable I am having them over for New Year.”

Nesta laughed, shaking her own head, glancing around the apartment. It had taken her long enough but something finally dawned on her. “Am I early? When are the others arriving?”

Cassian paused, swirling his glass. “Yeah, about that... I thought ‘fuck ‘em.’”

Nesta’s eyes bulged. “I think I’m missing something.”

Cassian put his glass down and leant back against the far counter.

“You know Bri’s pie wasn’t all that great. Mor was being...” he trailed off, scratching his eyebrow the way he did when he was uncomfortable. “Mor was being difficult and it was unfair. Rhys too. But I liked the idea of you and I doing our own holiday tradition so I guess I thought I’d see where we ended up.”

He gestured to his apartment and the dishes before them. “So, we ended up here. Just you and I, a bottle of wine, lots of delicious food and a very comfy rug we’re fucking on after dinner.”

“Is that right?” Nesta said, putting her glass down. She walked over to him. “Have you seen what you’ve made? We are not fucking after dinner.” She placed her hand on his chest, his heart beating a rhythm against her palm as she ignored his disappointed face. “We’re fucking before dinner.”

That wolf grin was back on his face and he leant forward to kiss her but Nesta stopped him. “I feel bad, everything here is an Archeron dish. You didn’t get your pie.”

“Oh, I’ll get to eat my pie.”

“Cassian!”

He laughed again, his broad arms wrapping around her body. “The fact that you tried means everything. I promise. This is a great start to our forever tradition.”

Nesta looked up at him; the hours of failed baking, the constant smoke alarms, the mess she had to clear up tomorrow. Worth it. All of it. “Forever you say?”

“Forever.”

[thechanglingchronicles]

A lil 1k scarian shipping secret life thing cause they deserve to kiss if they’re not gonna actually team up. I did not edit it really so it might be trash.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wait, Scar! Stop, running! I want to be friends!” Grian says running after him with Scar just out of ear shot.

“Scar!” Grian finally catches up to him “Can you stay still for a second?”

“I’d love to Grian!” Scar says before running up to his shop.

“Scar I just wanted to ask if you wanted to be friends.” Grian says when Scars in front of him again in his shop.

“Yes, that would be great, I’ve had a rough day,” Scar sighs, trying to be quiet.

“What’s happened?”

“I keep having to do things and I’m loosing friends and the yellows are chasing me trying to guess my task or yell at me for wearing a helmet.” Scar sighs exasperated.

“Why are you wearing a helmet?” Grian squints at him.

“People keep telling me to take it off!”

“I think I got what you’re task is but I’m not sure yet,”

“Noooo Grian, wait!” Scar yells.

“Don’t take your helmet off!” Grian says smiling as he watches Scar take his helmet off. “Ooooo, ok don’t follow me,” Grian reaches his hand out for Scar to take.

“Grian, don’t say anything! I’ll give you a diamond,” Scar said following Grian and holding his hand. Grian just giggles at him. “We can be friends! The diamond can be a symbol of our friendship!”

“Ok, Scar.”

“So where are you taking me G?” Scar questions.

“Oh, um,” a light pink color spreads across his cheeks.

“Do you just want to hold my hand? You could just ask! Or not ask uh,” Scar just coughs when he finishes his thought a little embarrassed. Grian laughs at him, Scar thinks it’s worth being embarrassed for.

“Sorry, I was just trying to mess with you. I didn’t have a location in mind.” They stop but neither let go of the other’s hand.

“Well, do you think you could keep me hidden from the yellows?” Scar asks him.

“I could try, they're kinda like bloodhounds.”

“Is that why they call themselves big dogs? thought it was for when they turn red they can be like Clifford.”

“Scar? I thought of something…” Grian stops, suddenly embarrassed.

“What is it, G?”

“Don’t kiss me,”

“Well, how long have you been thinking about that?” Scar giggles at him.

“It was stupid you don’t have to kiss me,” Grian forcefully rolls his eyes.

“I think I do actually, master’s orders.”

“Master? Scar! Shut up!” Grian yells.

“If that’s what you want…, gee Grian I'd really like to kiss you but I’m not sure if that’s what you want or not, could you clarify? I sure would appreciate it if you did-“ Grian cuts him off.

“Scar! Don’t shut up,” Scar looks at him and then his lips in response, then he wiggles his eyebrows. Grian finally notices how close they’ve gotten. Inches away in the middle of the forest all by themselves. Grian sighs and leans in.

Scar smirks before reaching up to Grian’s cheek and tilting his head for his lips to plant on. He lightly pressed his lips on his before sticking his tongue in his mouth. He’s so gentle. Grian grabs on to Scars waist. Grian sucks on the tongue gently feeling around his mouth.

Scar retrieved his tongue before biting the top lip in front of him. He tugs a little before stopping. Grian wines a little. Scar goes back to lightly pressing their lips together. Grian reaches up to the back of Scars head and pushes his head into him. Scar gasps in surprise before moving into Grian’s mouth again and sucking on lips both hands on his face for stability. Scar moves his hands down to Grian’s waist while still moving his mouth around Grian’s mouth.

Scar opens his eyes to look at Grian in his hands for a moment before moving his mouth down to his chin and then his neck slowly rubbing his mouth in circles against him. He stops in the crook of his neck and starts sucking. Grian stares blankly for a second before turning away.

“Scar, you are not giving me a hickie on this server,” Grian scolds him.

“Now I have too!” Scar whines.

“Ah Scar!”

“What!”

“Wait!” Grian hears vague barking noises and laughter in the distance. “Scar look like we didn’t just do that.” Scar just smirks at him, while Grian groans.

“Hey Scar! Is that Grian with you?” Martyn calls as soon as he sees them.

“Oh hey, dogies!” Scar says

“Hey Scar,” Jimmy says

“What’s up?” Grian asks.

“Martyn hasn’t guessed Scar’s task yet,”

“He’s being so obvious, but I’m not sure what it is yet,” Martyn says.

“Well how about we look at what I have in my shop instead!” Scar says sprinting for his shop.

“Wait, Scar!” Jimmy calls after him. They all start running after him.

“Scar, Stop!” Martyn says as he watches Scar turn the other direction.

“Scar, can you run from me?” Scar stops

“Huh?” Jimmy looks confused.

“Scar, don’t move,” Scar looks around but doesn’t move.

“Scar?” Grian questions.

“Wait? What?” Jimmy asks.

“You know what, I have no idea what your task is. I give up.”

“Ahah! Woo!” Scar cheers as they walk away.

“Scar? I think you failed?” Grian asks.

“Wait, what?” Scar stares blankely and turns his head like a confused puppy.

“Martyn told you not to move, and you didn’t move.” Grian says slowly.

“Ah, shoot! I looked around! I don’t want any hall monitors on me guess, I failed.” Scar walks back in his shop house and sits behind the counter head in hands.

“Hey, how many hearts are you on?”

“Not looking, took too many running from yellows just to mess up on a technicality!” Scar complains.

“I can give you a heart?” Grian asks getting Scar to look up at him.

“You would do that? I thought you only give them to somebody special.” Scar drops his hands down on the counter and grian takes the chance to grab his hand.

“We’ll you did give me a diamond of friendship.”

“Friendship…,”

“Scar!”

“Meh,” Scar giggles at his partner.

[confusedshades]

Inspired by this link by @cyrwrites.