#I did read the first volume ages ago

[seirxi]

orb is threatening me to actually read/watch the series with this anime commemoration collectors edition manga set….wtf why’s it so pretty

[shellshocklove]

moanin' & groanin' | logan howlett

pairing/AU: lumberjack!logan howlett/wolverine x inexperienced!female!reader

summery: working for your father's timber business isn't what you saw yourself doing, but when the wolverine comes looking for work it's suddenly not so bad – especially when he can teach you a thing or two.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap (in the way that his mutant abilities prolongs his life), swearing, use of pet names, smut, car sex, praise, a little dacryphilia, logan's got a dirty mouth, soft dom!logan, a little size kink (basically logan has a big dick), handjob, fingering, a little manhandling, unprotected sex (don't do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: um hi! this is my first ever logan fic. i really hope i got him right! not beta read, and barely edited so any mistakes are my own. happy reading! <3

main masterlist / ao3

The pages crinkled under your fingertips as you turned another page. Over the top of your book you could see your father's men milling about, getting the timber ready for another outgoing truck. Day in and day out they worked like flannel-covered ants. 

He wasn't here, your father, leaving you to hold down the fort, or office to be precise, as he  ran errands. "I'll be back before lunch," he'd told you, a hand passing through the sleeve of his tan Carhartt.

The office felt bigger when he wasn't here, like his neuroticism took up twice as much space as he did himself. You looked around the room. It was small, more like a hut than anything else, raised up on cinderblocks. A tiny kitchen lined the front wall, the refrigerator had given out once this month already and something smelled like it had died in there, the white florescent light under the wall cabinets gave you a headache, and the tap drip drip dripped. The table and the mismatched chairs, your father had found at a fleamarked years ago, before you were born most likely, and they wore the wear and tear of years of use. 

Every available surface was covered in papers, and the wooden shelves on the wall dipped in the middle from the weight of the binders. When you were little you'd been afraid the wood would break in two, but they were still standing (hanging?) – maybe they'd stay like that for the rest of eternity for all you knew. Your father's office had only one desk, which made your job as occasional office manager and full-time problem solver, problematic. 

Your father would sit in his chair on one side, while you'd steal one of the mismatched chairs and occupy the other end. If you'd had your way, you wouldn't be working here. The timber business interested you just as much as your father was interested in the disco they played on the radio. "If it ain't the king of rock I don't want to hear it," he usually said and switched the channel. 

But the town was small, and no one was hiring. The summer after you'd finished high school you'd dreamt of moving to the city, but the money had been tight and your father needed you. At least the work, if your father didn't meddle, was relatively easy: answer the phone, type out the invoices and salaries, keep an eye on logistics, and make sure whatever breaks gets fixed. 

The radio hummed at a low volume, one of the singles from Tapestry, as you turned another page of your book. Leaning back in your father's office chair, you glanced at the clock over the door. He should be back by now. Just as the thought crossed your mind, the door swung open.

"Did you need something?" you asked, your book dipping down in your lap. 

Logan raised an eyebrow at you as he walked into the office on heavy steps, that damn cigar hanging out the side of his mouth. "Nice to see you too, princess," he poked jokingly, tugging at his gloves, one finger at a time, and tucking them into his leather belt. 

He sported the same outfit he usually wore; bootcut jeans, a white t-shirt under his flannel and a thicker wool-lined jacket. He must've been sweating in here with that on.

Autumn had claimed the trees and ground months ago, but this morning the frost had covered the ground and bit at the apples of your cheeks. Your breath had come out in swirling plumes when you'd locked yourself in this morning; the first glints of the sun peeking through the windows as it rose over the mountains. The first thing you'd done was crank the heater, and now as you approached midday, you'd shed your sweater long ago while the windows had fogged with condensation. 

The smallest of frowns tugged at your brows, as a heat prickled up your neck to your cheeks. Logan made you a little nervous– not in a bad way, but in a way where your thoughts would wander in his presence, conjuring up scenarios of him and yourself in… comprising positions. Okay, maybe it was in a bad way. But who could blame you when he walked around like that?

He'd arrived only a few months ago, at the tail end of the summer, looking for work. He was strong, stronger than any of the other men working for your father, and although the work was hard, it seemed like he never tired. You didn't know much about him and he kept mostly to himself, hidden away in a cabin up in the mountain, but sometimes you'd see him down at the local bar, nursing a glass of whiskey in one hand and a lit cigar in the other. More than once you'd seen him chatting up Kayla Silverfox, and more than once you'd wished it was you in her place.

"Oof," Logan groaned as he opened the fridge, grabbing his packed lunch and closing it as fast as he could. You appreciated him for that; whatever had died in there should stay in there.

"Yeah," you said, "I'm not cleaning that again, not even for a million bucks."

"Can't blame ya." 

He looked to the table for a second where the guys usually ate their lunches, before he decided to take your usual chair at your father's desk. As he sat down, you pushed the ash tray to his side of the desk, earning you a short smile in thanks as he rested his cigar. It wasn't unusual for him to talk to you on his breaks. 

So, why did you heart beat so fast in your chest?

Because it was the first time you'd been alone.

"So, where's your old man?" he asked and bit into the sandwich he'd packed in an old newspaper.

"Running errands– he should be back soon…" you trailed off.

Logan hummed non-committedly. "So, you're in here sittin' pretty readin' your book while we're out in the cold slavin' away– maybe I should become the boss' daughter."

"Well, it's not easy," you sighed, feigning confidence, "and you gotta be pretty first of all," you front teeth dug into your bottom lip as you tried to hide your nervousness.

"That's true," he grinned, "I ain't got nothin' on you, princess."

Logan held your gaze with intent, and it was like something in the air shifted. It happened sometimes with Logan, like he had this power beaming from him that sucked you in. Erratic wings fluttered in your stomach, and you had to drop your gaze.

"So, how's the book?" he asked, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Eh," you shrugged, dog-earing the page your were on, before throwing the beat-up paperback on the table. "Too many plot twists– first they're on earth, then there's this virus spreading– so they have to move all of humanity to the moon, but then there's this species that lives under the surface of the moon who they start a war with, but one of the main characters are in love with a moonie– that's what they call them– so, now they're in love and trying to stop the war and…" you shrugged again.

Logan chewed slowly as he nodded his head. "Sounds complicated," he decided, making you let out a small laugh.

"I guess so."

A grin washed over Logan's face at your small laugh, and you felt his gaze roll over you, over your exposed skin. When he looked at you like that, like a predator drooling for a meal, you felt a small damp spot stick to your panties. You watched as his nostrils widened, his jaw clenching shut as a pulsing vein protruded from his neck.

"So, science fiction," he started, clearing his throat, "Didn't know you liked that," he continued between the last bites of his sandwich

"Some kid at the library recommended it," you shrugged, "so I thought I'd try it out. And it's not like it's that far from the truth– we've got mutants."

Logan crumbled the newspaper hard and quick, the sharp sound making you jump. "Yeah," he said, and stood to his feet, "That's true."

He grabbed his burnt out cigar, and threw the ball of newspaper in the trash. You started to wonder if you'd said something wrong, but then he said, "Your father's back," and not even a second later you could see your dad's old truck pull up outside the window.

How did he even know that? 

"Logan– wait," the words just fell out of your mouth before you could even think them through. He hovered by the door, raising a questioning eyebrow at you. 

You could be brave– Just say it! 

"Come by later would you? Before you leave for the day– I have something for you."

A gush of cold air blew in with the arrival of your father. He almost crashed right into Logan on his way out, nearly knocking him down the wooden steps. You thought you could glimpse a small nod from Logan, but he was out the door so fast you couldn't be sure. 

The rest of the day went by slowly as a growing anxiety gnawed at your neck. With your dad back you slipped out to borrow the car, driving into town to pick up some lunch at the local diner. It was routine at this point, something you did without thinking, but today your thoughts couldn't stay still. You were pulling up outside the office when you realized you'd driven the whole way with the radio off.

What was even your plan? 

You wished you were better at this. You could pretend, sure, put on a brave face to hide the nerves from surfacing, but how do you get a man like that to go for a girl like you?

You felt non the wiser when the sun had dipped below the mountains and he finally knocked on the office door. Your dad had left thirty-minutes earlier, stranding you at work with no way to get home. 

If this didn't go well, you didn't look forward to walking home.

"What 's it you wanted, princess," Logan asked, leaning against the frame of the door with one knee popped. Your eyes couldn't help but run down the length of him – his broad shoulders, the bulge hidden below his big belt buckle, and the veins of his exposed arms as he slung his jacket over his shoulder.

"Oh, um," you tried to shake your thoughts, and you rummaged the desk for the envelope. "Here," you said as you found it, stretching your hand out for him to take it.

He pushed off the door frame with a raised eyebrow, the cold air from the open door taking with it the warmth of the office. "What's this?" he questioned, taking the envelope from your hand. 

"It's your check– for this month's work," you explained.

His raised eyebrow pulled into a frown, "This is a week early," he questioned, "and I usually get these sent in the mail."

"Oh, I-I just thought I'd give it to you personally this time," you lied, fitting a shrug at the end for good measure, trying to sell how completely normal and nonchalant you were.

Logan raised a skeptic eyebrow at you, and you suddenly felt really really stupid. In your chest your heart could compete with a hummingbird's.

"Really?" he said with a smile before he dropped his chin, "Can I appreciate a little extra something in here, or…?" he trailed off, waving the envelope.

Letting out a shaky inaudible breath, you tried in your flirtiest voice, "Maybe if you give me a ride home…"

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

The lights from the town below looked like stars scattered over the night sky, the yellow light of the roads connected them like on a string. You knew that Logan knew where you lived; the town was small, and even with the short time he'd spent here, it wasn't hard to get familiar. He'd stopped at the lookout point, about half-way up the mountain road. It was nice in the daytime, with a nice view of the town, the mountain and rivers, but at night it attracted a different kind of crowd: lovers. It was cheesy, and cliché, but clichés were clichés for a reason. 

The Led Zeppelin tape whirled, and the music stopped. 

Suddenly you felt nervous, fingers picking at a loose tread on your sweater. Logan leaned forward to flip the cassette, and his truck filled with a sound of organ, like you were back in church. When he leaned back he slung his arm over your seat. You watched how he spread his legs, getting comfortable, as his eyes found your face.

Under the wool, your heart picked up its beat.

In a brave move you shifted closer, the leather seat moaning under you, as a pleased smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His big palm snaked around your shoulder, curling you closer to him until his lips caught your own. You only hesitated for a second before your hand found his neck, where your fingers tugged lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck. 

A low growl huffed against your lips, and he deepened the kiss, pressing himself roughly against you as he licked into your mouth. You couldn't help the small whimper escaping you. His touch was rough, almost impatient, but tender all at the same time, and you felt yourself fall apart.

The air stuck to your skin, clammy and sticky with arousal and now you started to get impatient. With a loud smack you broke apart, your lips raw and spent from use as you caught your breath. A rough hand cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb skated gently over your skin as he tilted your head towards him.

"Such a pretty little thing," he mused. His eyes had gone dark, pupils huge and filled with lust; yours must've looked about the same as they rolled down his body. He shifted closer to you, pushing you closer to the door, and you got a better view of the bulge hidden behind his jeans.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, clogging up the sounds around you like you were underwater, pushing at your thoughts at the back of your mind. Logan moved with such ease, each touch natural and easy, like he'd done them a thousand times. Not like you, with only your short-lived high school boyfriend under your belt. 

"Hey," he shook your head gently, "Where you goin', bub?"

"I'm sorry," you whispered, a heat coating the apples of your cheeks. 

He shook his head, his face surprisingly tender for someone so rough, "Tell me, baby."

"I'm just…" you trailed of, trying to find your words, "I'm a little nervous– I haven't done this much," you said, avoiding his gaze.

"That's sweet, bub." The pad of his thumb rubbed the pet name into your skin as he leaned forward to catch your lips in a soft kiss, "But I wouldn't worry that pretty little head of yours 'bout it."

His breath was hot against your own, and an ache started to spread between your legs. The hand on your cheek travelled downwards to tug at your jacket, and you parted only for a second to rid yourself of it, but before you could lock your lips with his again he grabbed at your hands.

"I'll teach ya," he told you and guided your hands to his broad form. 

He let you touch him as he shucked off his jacket, your fingers dancing over the soft flannel. He was solid beneath your fingers, hard muscles from hard work. A patch of dark hair curled at his chest, peeking out beneath his white shirt, and you found yourself wondering where it lead.

Curling his hand around your wrist, he guided your hand lower; down over his chest where you could feel the solid form of him. His bronze belt buckle burned you like ice, but the heat of him as he pressed your hand to the hard bulge beneath the buckle burned even brighter.

"You feel that?" He looked you straight in the eyes. He pressed your hand down harder and you could feel the shape of him against your hand, hard and thick, and big. You barely managed a nod through the wave of heat coating your cheeks. 

"That's because of you, princess." His voice was low, almost like a growl, as he started to guide your hand to rub over the thick length.

"Me?" you questioned, breathless. 

"Yes, you," he chuckled, a heavy hand petting at your head. "D'you want to take it out? Stroke it f'me?"

"Please," you begged, looking at him with moony eyes through your lashes.

"So polite f'me," he mused, his hands tugging at his belt before he popped the button on his jeans. Slipping off your shoes, you crawled up into the seat, sitting back on your knees as you watched him pull at his jeans. Peeking out from under the denim, you could see a dark patch of hair.

Logan was in no rush, revealing only an inch at a time of the base of his cock, making a show of it as the tension rose. A wave of tickling arousal washed over you, and it made you brave, reaching a trembling hand forward, you helped him tug at the fabric.

At last his cock sprung free.

You felt your eyes widen at the sight, as you involuntarily squeezed your thighs together. Even with your limited experience, you knew he was bigger than most. The thick length of his cock bobbed from the weight, hanging heavy between his legs. At the tip of his fat head, a drop of precum pearled, almost invisible in the dark truck. 

"Come here, bub." He widened his legs as he reached out a strong arm for you, curling you into his shoulder. 

"Put your hand on it," he ordered, "like this," he grabbed at your wrist and guided you hand towards his mouth. You let him move you around, eyes blown out and wide as you couldn't take your eyes off his impressive cock. 

A wet blob of spit pulled you from your thoughts, it drew the slightest frown over your face until he guided your palm, now coated in his spit, to his cock.

Under your palm his skin was silky soft, but hard and firm at the same time. You found yourself mesmerized at the sight of your hand around him as you familiarized yourself with the heaviness of him in your hand. 

"There ya go–" he cut himself off with a groan as you formed a fist around the head of him. Your fingers struggled to reach around him, but it didn't seem like Logan minded much when you moved downwards smearing his spit over his shaft in an experimental tug. 

"That's it, good girl, just like that."

A warmth bloomed in your chest at the praise, wrapping itself around your heart. You wanted him to say it again– to be good for him. So, you reached forward with your other hand, wrapping it around the base as the other formed a fist around the head. Another pearl of precum beaded at the tip, and you took the opportunity to skate your thumb over it, massaging it into his spit.

A growl seemed to get caught in Logan's throat, and still riding off your high that the praise had sown in you, you started to pump his cock in slow strokes. A slick sound escaped under your fists with each stroke, and you watched how his head fell back in pleasure.

"Am-am I doing it right?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

At the sound of your voice, Logan sat up straighter, a heavy hand falling over your back to pull you closer. "You're a natural, princess."  

You couldn't contain the smile from coating your lips as he brought you in for another searing kiss. It was hot, and suffocating, and all-consuming, all at the same time. It clouded your mind, and you forgot what your hands were supposed to be doing. 

Logan's hand travelled down your body, his big palm grabbing at your ass. "Take of your pants," he ordered against your lips, "Panties too," underlining his order with a couple of light slaps to the flesh.

Shuffling out of his hold, you fingered at the button of your pants, pulling at them and your panties as quickly as you could. Goosebumps prickled over your exposed skin, the air suddenly frosty without Logan's touch – but that didn't last long.

The calloused pads of his fingers trailed up your thighs, pressing down into the flesh as he pulled you closer to him. "Come sit in my lap, princess."

He didn't wait for you to move, instead he manhandled you how he wanted. Spreading his legs wide apart he fit you between his legs, your back pressed against his hot chest with his hard and leaking cock caged against your ass. 

"I'm gonna touch you now, baby, okay?" his deep voice whispered in your ear.

"Okay," you peeped, heart pounding in your ears at this new proximity. 

He spread your legs, putting your wet and neglected cunt on display, hooking them over his knees. When his palms danced over your inner thighs, you felt yourself sink deeper into his chest, deeper into the safe scent of pine and man. 

"Need to get you ready f'me, bub– stretch this tight cunt out for my big cock," he cooed.

You ached for him, a sticky wet feeling between your legs as you wished so badly for him to finally touch you. His touch was light, but teasing, drawing circles along the thin flesh, circling closer and closer to where you needed his touch the most, before he pulled away. 

"Please," you whined, grabbing at his arm.

His breath felt hot against your neck, and you could feel the grin he pressed against your skin. He let you guide him upwards to hover his large palm over your mound, but he wouldn't let you have it. Instead, he pushed at your sweater. His hand spread across the skin beneath your belly button as prickled goosebumps followed the rough pads as they ran across your skin.

"Y'gonna feel me right here, bub?" he teased, "So deep inside your tummy?"

A whine caught in your throat and you felt like an exposed nerve. Arousal pulsated throughout your body, threatening to pull you apart unless he did something soon. Your neglected cunt dripped with an ache only he could sooth. 

"Yes, please, Logan," you whined, tears threatening to spill.

His thick beard scraped against your cheek, and you almost trembled from anticipation as he slid his hands downwards. He raked his fingers through the curls of your mound, and a gasp fell from your lips when he finally pushed at your clit.

A wide smile reached across your face when he started to circle his fingers, tight with the perfect amount of pressure. Your hips bucked to meet his touch, your cunt eager and dripping for more of him. His other arm clasped around your middle, keeping your still and steady in his lap as he had his way with you.

A bold finger dipped lower, running through your folds and teasing at you entrance. A slick sound filled the car as he played with your cunt, circling his fingers around your hole, dipping a teasing finger inside you just to the first knuckle, before withdrawing it just as quickly. 

"Such a messy pussy," Logan murmured in your ear, the deep bass of his voice vibrating into your skin. "Listen."

The sound as he played with your pussy was obscene, lewd, and so dirty you felt a heat crawl up your chest. A breathy gasp escaped you when he finally split you on his finger, and a satisfied smile coated your lips as he started to move it inside in a steady rhythm, prodding every so often at that spongy spot inside, the spot your own finger couldn't reach.

"F-feels s-so good," you managed to stutter out. 

The heel of his palm pressed against your clit with every thrust, teasing at your insides and conjuring moan after breathy moan from your lips. He guided you closer and closer to the edge, and you wanted so badly to fall. When he pulled out to slide another finger inside you, you felt a tear roll down your cheek with satisfaction.

"I can feel that pussy clenching me– you close, bub?" he poked, never stopping his fingers.

Your head rolled back, resting heavy on his shoulder as you nodded franticly, mouth parted slightly, humming out small breathy whines. You were so close, the tension in your stomach twisting and aching for release.

But then he pulled his fingers, dragging them up over your mound leaving a wet trail in your curls. You couldn't help the disappointed sigh as more tears pressed their way down your cheeks.

"Shh," he hushed you, "you're okay, bub." 

Under you, you felt him move, his strong muscles flexing as he shifted you on his lap. When you felt the blunt head of his cock slide between your folds, an eagerness came upon you. You grinded against him, making a small chuckle rumble from his chest. Logan slapped his heavy cock against your folds, coating his big cock in your slick arousal. 

The first stretch of him knocked the breath right out of you, the fat tip of him splitting you in half as he helped you guide yourself down on him. You had to remember to breathe, your hand fumbling for something to hold on to. 

"Fuck," you whimpered, eyes wide, "I-it's so big– it's t-too big."

His hand wrapped around your middle held you in place, keeping you still on his cock as you adjusted to the first inches of him inside you. 

"It's not too big, princess, you're doing so well f'me," he praised, "just a little more, bub– you can do it."

With a wet whimper you lowered yourself, taking a couple more inches of him, as Logan pressed more fluttering praise into your skin. He let you take your time, easing yourself down on him at your own pace. When your thighs were finally flushed with his, he was so deep inside you, you jolted, trying to move back up, but Logan's hands held you down. You felt him in your tummy, like he'd said, his cock reaching so deep you were shaking.

"Sit still, get used to it," he told you, as you tried to catch your breath, "You're being so good f'me."

And somehow the burning stretch of him soothed away into a pleasurable pressure, one you couldn't help but chase. With an experimental rock of your hips, you felt the fat head of him prod at your spot, making you mewl. And when you started to swivel your hips, Logan groaned in satisfaction, meeting your movement with small thrusts.

Slowly, he picked up his rhythm, strong hands shifted to dig into your hips, holding you in place for him to move you as he wished. In your ear, you heard him growl, deep and animalistic as he fucked up into you.

It didn't take long until your breath came out fast between moans as the pressure built, and built, and built. 

"Logan," you moaned, tethering right on the edge.

Another growl escaped his chest, as his strong arms hooked under your legs. He pressed them tightly to your body as he picked up his pace, bucking wildly into your eager cunt. You could feel him throb inside of you, and you couldn't help but clench at the thought of feeling him spill inside you, claiming you.

"Don't stop, please, don't stop," you begged, tears streaming down your face like two winding rivers, "I-I'm gonna come."

A hand slid between your legs to rub at your puffy clit, coaxing you closer and closer with winding circles. 

"Come on my cock, baby, come all over that big cock."

It was hot, and blinding. Euphoric shocks pulsed through your body, as you fluttered and gushed around his cock. Logan's grip on your legs tightened as you shook violently with your orgasm – a million stars exploded behind your eyes.

"Oh, that's it, bub, such a good girl," he praised between heavy wet pants against your ear.    

Fucking you through your ecstasy, Logan chased his own high at a relentless pace, and all you could do was take it, reduced to a ragdoll in his hands. In your ear he muttered nonsense interlaced with praise, telling you how good you felt, and how perfect you were for him.

With a deep groan he pulled out quickly, tugging at himself until he spilled his thick spend on the truck floor. With bleary eyes you watched how it pumped in quick spurts, dripping down his hand and soiled the knuckles in his own sticky cum. 

Behind you, Logan breathed hard, nudging his nose against the column of your neck to press soft kisses to the hot skin. 

A pair of bright headlights beamed down the road, pulling you from the moment with its blinding light. Logan helped you shift off his lap, reaching to hand you your discarded clothes before he tucked himself back into his jeans. 

The cassette whirled in the car radio, and you couldn't remember when the music had stopped. Logan shifted back behind the wheel and an eerie silence grew in the distance between you.

"How 'bout I take you somewhere to eat?" he posed.

You smiled, "I could eat."

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

hopefully this was okay? a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[ikroah]

It Keeps Right On A-Hurtin’ — Volume 3

Left My Heart in the Sierra Madre

Variant Cover Guest Art by @memepipboy

Archive Links

«« First | « Previous || Next » | Last »»

Read IKROAH on Archive of Our Own

Notes / Original Pencils:

NOVEMBER 2022. ALMOST EXACTLY TWO YEARS AGO. THAT WAS WHEN I @memepipboy DREW THE VOLUME 3 VARIANT COVER FOR ME. AT THAT TIME, THE LAST PUBLISHED ISSUE OF IKROAH WAS #23. "SURELY," I THOUGHT THEN, "IT'S GOOD TO GIVE MY GUEST ARTISTS A HEAD START, BUT I'LL GET TO VOLUME THREE IN NO TIME!"

It is no exaggeration to say that I have been sitting on this commission for so long that it outlived not only my marriage, but the beginning and end of several other entire relationships since. I changed house. I got a cat. My life is completely different now than it was when I commissioned this variant cover from Pip (hell, so is her's: she gained a marriage!) but that's just how the cookie crumbles when you dare to invest yourself in a hobby that stretches itself over so much time. And in my defense, I have a very good excuse. I did get divorced, after all, and nowadays I'm enjoying my life a little too much to sit hunched at my desk like I used to.

Still! Despite the age of the commission, Pip did incredible work. Like my own cover for Volume 2, Pip's variant is an homage to a specific comic book cover. I wanted a parody of those melodramatic old romance comics, since it's such a stark contrast to the tone of my own cover this time around.

And according to my computer, the "Last Modified" date on the thumbnails I made for all of IKROAH's planned covers is June 11, 2021. Christ alive. I don't want to think about this single cover piece technically taking even longer.

Volume 3, "the Dead Money arc," is something that I have very specifically been looking forward too since I started making this comic in 2020. As it creeps toward half a decade of life, if any of you have any worries about how much gas I have left in the tank, know this: I basically wrote the first two volumes of this comic just to get to this one.

Here's hoping I can haul ass on it and stop falling in love or shipping across the country or having any other lifechanging events happening to me between the rest of these issues.

[meluiloth]

For @silmarillionepistolary day 7, Remembrance and New Beginnings! Artwork at the bottom.

Night has fallen. The lamps have been turned low, the house cleaned, the bedtime routine completed; all Maglor and Maedhros have left to do is tuck the twins and read them their customary story.

They look so small wrapped in the red wool blankets, like two little birds in a crimson nest. They are quiet, too, waiting patiently for Maglor to ask his routine question: “Now, what story would you like tonight? Or would you rather hear a song?”

“I want the one about the Sun and the Moon!” Elros pipes up, scrunching the blanket in his hands eagerly.

Maglor smiles. “Is that what you want as well, Elrond?”

Elrond, the quieter twin, looks bashfully down before murmuring, “I’d like to see the picture book…”

Maglor shares a confused look with Maedhros. They did not own any picture books. “What do you mean?” Maedhros asks.

Elrond tips his head. “The one in your study,” he says. “It’s got gold string around it and lots of pictures on every page.”

Maedhros frowns. “You know you are forbidden from entering my study,” he reproaches.

Elrond bites his lip. “Yes, I know … I just saw the pictures and thought they were pretty.”

Maglor sees the telltale signs of a lecture in Maedhros’s expression, so he swiftly says, “Perhaps we can excuse it this once, if you promise to ask before you touch our things.”

Both Elrond and Elros nod emphatically, and Maglor leaves the room to search for the ‘picture book’ in his brother’s study, which is packed with volumes, scrolls, and papers. Maglor thinks it will take him forever to find the book Elrond described, if it exists at all, but surprisingly he easily locates it in the first bookshelf: a worn book of red leather, tied with a fading gold ribbon. It is familiar to him, but he cannot recollect why until he brings it back into the twins’ room. Maedhros’s eyes widen when he sees it. “Grandfather’s sketchbook? I thought that was lost ages ago!”

“It was in a box in the back,” Elrond supplies.

Maglor looks down at it, a stab of nostalgia and old grief passing through him. “I thought we never even brought it,” he murmurs.

“Can we read it?” Elros asks, leaning forward curiously.

Maedhros frowns, his reluctance clear. There are many memories neither of them want to relive, the life and death of their grandfather among the most heartbreaking. But many of the memories Finwë recorded in his beloved sketchbook were his happiest, from both his life and the rest of his family’s. And the two young children looking up at Maglor are also Finwë’s family … and he wants to share something of his life that is not just the blood on his hands.

The spine of the book cracks softly as he opens it, and the yellowed paper releases a small puff of dust, but the artwork on the inside is still as lovely and life-filled as the day he penned them.

Maglor explains each piece as he showed it to the twins, and lets them look as long as they like. Even Maedhros sometimes asks him to wait a little longer on certain pages, the heavy, dark look in his eyes brightening when he remembers his childhood in Valinor.

It is well past midnight by the time they reach the last pages, and all of them are surprised to see that they are all in full color, when all the previous pages have been only graphite sketches.

“Who are they?” Elros breathes, tracing his finger delicately over the meticulously painted faces.

Maglor swallows, his throat and his eyes clogged with tears. His brother, too, is at a loss for words.

“It’s them,” Elrond says, looking up at the Fëanorians and then back down at thd drawings. “Maglor and Maedhros are right there … but Maedhros looks different …”

It was true. Maglor and Maedhros, along with all of their brothers - still alive and smiling radiantly - and their parents. On the other pages, their cousins and uncles and aunts, before any of them had suffered the horrors of Morgoth.

“That is us,” Maedhros murmurs. “That was us then. We were so happy..."

“What was it like … then?” Elros ventures.

Maglor smiles. “I will tell you.”

“Tomorrow night,” Maedhros interrupts. “It is very late, and if you are to understand a word we say, you must be well-rested.”

[user2772636]

Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

××《☆》××

Looking back at the day you first met, you realise how far you've gone. You appreciate the little things in life and some little people, too.

===

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warnings: This is literally just plain fluff, LAST CHAPTER OF DOUZIÈME FILLE!!!

===

===

Chapter ten: I love you

===

You had six best days of your life.

Paris, France. 1973.

The wedding was one of the best days of your life. You had a beautiful gown, a beautiful cathedral, a beautiful ceremony, and a beautiful husband.

Everything was perdect from the venue, to the food, to the gifts, and to the guests.

You saw old friends. Callum, of course, came and was pronounced man of honour by Joseph. Simone and Jean Pierre had gotten locked in about two years ago, right after they finished college. Michèle and Laubrac came back after profuse apologies of leaving. They haven't married each other yet, but you have a feeling it's soon. Also because Joseph told you that Laubrac told him that he'll propose soon.

Europe Trip, 1973

The second best day of your life was your honeymoon. You and your now husband went around Europe. Going to places you've already been and places you haven't gone to.

A side note, you left that celebrity profile ages ago. It was too toxic anyway, with all the drama you didn't want to get into. Callum did the opposite of this. You're happy for him. And his fiancé, or as he likes to call him, his husband.

Bordeux, 1974

Moving was hard, but it was the third best day of your life. And carrying Briseis was a part of it.

Briseis, your first born. She was named after a character from the Iliad, the same Iliad you had presented in that project with Joseph back in high school.

She was as bright as her father, always laughing and wanting to have fun. Joseph loves her so much to the point that he will always be the one to put her back to sleep when she wakes in the early morning. He does that because he loves you, too.

Bordeux, 1976

The fourth best day of your life was when you gave birth to George.

George was named after your late cat you had in high school. He was taken care of both you and Joseph, which held a special place in your heart. Truly, George, your cat was your first child. But, let's not forget Briseis.

Briseis was two now, gaining the ability to speak, walk, run, whatever drained her unsifting energy. You were most proud, as well as your loving husband.

One of these nights, you'd catch him talking to both of them, talking about whatever they wanted to talk about, telling them stories, showing them fun. They fall sound asleep after, and you, for one, are grateful for him.

Also, you adopted two cats. One Achilles, one Patroclus. What? You couldn't help it.

Bordeux, 1980

Only a few months ago, your beautiful Callum was born. He was obviously named after your best friend. Callum cried when he found out. That was the fifth best day of your life.

He flew all the way to where you lived, seeing as now he lived with his lover in Sicily. He gave him countless amounts of gifts, even the ones month old babies couldn't use.

The house was fully packed. Your three children, two pets, and a mother and a father. Their very beautiful father.

You were in your 30s now, and you're so glad you're in this age with him by your side.

You sit in your husbands office, reading a book in the corner of the room. He was finishing up some papers, cigarettes between his lips, and sometime later blowing out the smoke.

You were halfway through a stanza when you heard a record break. Music started playing, the volume going up slowly. You look up from your hardcover to Joseph standing there, hands in his pockets and an eye on you. You raise your eyebrows. He does so, too.

"Dance with me, honey." He says, walking towards you slowly after he butted his cigarette out. You roll your eyes, putting your book down.

"You'll wake the kids up with that music." Even after saying that, you get up anyways, grabbing the hands he offered you a while ago.

He shrugs simply, sliding a hand on your hip and raising his other. "We'll take them back to sleep then. Dance with me." He presses his forehead to yours, kissing the tip of your nose.

You can't help but close your eyes, relaxation hitting your body like a truck. It's been a while since you felt like this. You both had been so busy with work or with the kids. You needed this. He did, too.

He starts to hum along the song. "I can see it in your eyes that you despise the same old lies you heard the night before."

Your mind flashes back to your high school days. The weeks of ignoring each other was wasting time that could've been used for loving instead.

"And though it's just a line to you, for me, it's true and never seemed so right before."

You look back at the first day of school. You thought you hated him. You thought he hated you. But in trutg it was the opposite, he confessed. He loved you the second he laid eyes on you, and you had been too blind to see, trying to distract yourself from the fact you did actually love him, too.

"I practice every day to find some clever lines to say to make the meaning come true. But then I think I'll wait until the evening gets late and I'm alone with you."

Seven years you were away from each other. He told you how much he missed you that night after the gala. He told you he prepared, he practised, because he didn't want to mess anything up. You told him nothing could because even after convincing yourself in high school that you didn't love him, you still did.

"The time is right. Your perfume fills my head. The stars get red, and, oh, the night's so blue." He turns you to spin, and you get back to your place in front of him, swaying with a hand on his chest.

"And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like, "I love you. "" He looks deep into your eyes, now staying still. He takes your lifted hand to his lips, pressing his pretty pink lips on it.

"I love you." He says, the instruments in the background adding to the moment. You smile, and he mirrors you. You place a kiss on those lips, tilting your head a bit. You part away.

"I love you." You say, caressing his cheeks. You're so glad you ended up here. With him. This was your sixth favourite day of your life.

"Mommy? Daddy?" A tiny voice asks. You both turn your head to Briseis, eyes droopy and hair a mess. She walks closer to the two of you, and Joseph does the task of lifting her up to your level.

"Yes, sweetheart? Why aren't you asleep?" Joseph said gently, and you can't help but show a smile.

"I can't. I wanna hear a story." You two nod at each other before carrying on to turn the record player off and heading to Briseis' room.

Once you tuck her in well, leaving the bedside lamp on, you question. "Alright, which story do you want for tonight." Joseph sits on the other side, brushing your daughter's hair with his fingers.

"How did you two meet?" She asks, fluffing her blanket up. You and Joseph look at each other, smiling knowingly, before you continue.

"Well, this is where it started. It was 1963. They mixed boys and girls in the same school. I was the twelfth girl."

××《☆》××

End - Chapter ten: I love you/Douzième Fille Series

××《☆》××

The series has officially ended. I'm so sad and so happy at the same time. I can't believe it. It's been so long with this series, and it's over. Our babies have grown up and have their own babies.

To all the people who read this, thank you so much for keeping up with it. This was my first ever series, and its amazing how many people have come and followed the journey.

This is a memory that'll be embedded in me for the rest of my fuckign life, no matter how cringe that sounds, but it's true. I made a lot of memories with an online fanfic series. it's crazy

I love you all so much and want to thank you guys for the support. I will continue writing for joseph it just depends on my mood. I will now start to write for other ppl, like u guys saw me post abt hamzah.

ANWWW, it's been a journey. Thank you again, and I hope you all enjoyed it.

[heartfullofleeches]

Yandere Fae King + G.N Huntsman Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Drugging, Kidnapping, Angst

-

What’s your favorite fairytale?

You hardly remember it now. It's been so long since you've been able to kick back and think back on all those old tales you once loved. Been a while since you've been able to do anything, really. The days drain away by the second with each life you take, and the nights in wait for the next cull. Your equipment receives better care than you’ve had in years. 

If you were another person, maybe you'd seek for a change. Scrounge up every coin you earn and never looked back on this world, living free and without needless bloodshed. If only such a life was meant for a person like you. The person deserving of that dream died ages ago, on the day they learned to block out the screams. 

He..lp me…

At least… The ones that no longer mattered. 

You shift towards the source of the plea, equipping your trusty steel from the fire in which it brewed. It damaged the durability, but was the only way you could properly snuff the weakened voice. Its frightened face reflects in the flat blade of your axe; the bloodstains you weren’t able to remove marking its place as another victim to the flame. You've lost track of how many have fallen before it. At one time, you carved a mark into the handle of your weapon, but you lost the original piece for which you did so. You can’t recall if you stopped keeping track before or after that happened. 

You stalk towards your captive like the cautious hero sneaking up to the wicked wolf to save the damsel in red, yet the only one who needs saving is one of you. Your feet grow colder the closer you approach, but lost in determination is not the cause. The snowy flesh and frozen tears of your prey chills the very air to a still. It's your first run in with such a creature, but far from the last. You raise your axe high.

“Please… Have you no heart?” 

You would’ve gagged it if you had more rope. There's no reason to reply, for your eyes speak volumes. Silence rains as you bring down the axe.

-

A wet thud sounds as you toss the spoils from your kill on the ground. 

“Found this in your barn. It's what's been freezing your crops.”

The farmer's face contorts in disgust, but they keep silent as they shove your payment in your hands and slam the door shut. You hear shouting over whether who will clean up the mess you made, but that's all behind you. With their miscalculation in pay, you should be able to get a decent meal in your system along with the supplies you need. The thought was a little too hopeful as the very second you allow yourself to rest, the ghost of your past comes knocking once more. 

“Hunter.” 

A note slides across the table you sit at, sealed with crimson wax. 

“Your majesty requests your immediate attention.”

You take small bites of your food. The messenger sighs.

“Need I remind you that it's mandatory?”

“Do I have to remind you that I no longer work for that man?”

“This isn't about you or your issues with our king. It's about another.”

Their seldom glance towards the window is all you need to know. You settle your rumbling stomach with a drink of water and pour the remaining contents over the letter.

“Let's go.”

The messenger looks confused, and slightly worried. “I really think you should read-"

You quickly place your axe on the table, blueish blood embedded into the metal. “I said we're leaving. Take me to him, now.” 

-

The messenger returns to the castle pale as a sheet and with you in tow. They hand you off to a younger hire to avoid the backlash of your arrival themselves; the servant leading you directly to the king's throne with the same tactic you used on the other party. The king sits in his chair, chatting away to anyone who'll listen to his personal retellings of the past. His general expression shows fearlessness and glee, but the trained eye could see the anxiety practically dripping from this shell of a man. A fear that unsheathes itself as he turns his head towards you. Not a thing has changed since you left.

“Hunter!” The king masks his faulty start with a well placed cough as he rises to his feet, arms raised. “It's been a while, hasn’t it, old friend? I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow. We had a feast planned and everything.”

“I'm not here for pleasantries. Are you finally putting an end to this petty war or not.”

The king struggles to maintain his smile. “Ah, right. Never were one to allow yourself a break were you? Well once this task is complete, you'll have all the time in the world. We believe we've found something that will put an end to everything once and for all.”

He calls a servant to bring the item in question. It's a map. Hand drawn from what you can see. You drew one similar in your youth. 

“With the noble sacrifice of our men, we've successfully navigated a path through the cursed part of the forest and straight to the fae king’s castle. There's theory that a hidden passage exists along its walls, but we have yet to figure it out. If anyone is able to, let alone kill that creature, it would be you. We'll prepare you a steed and armor by morning-"

“I'll leave before dawn.”

The king's eyes bulge out of their sockets like you just threatened his life. “Aha, surely you jest. There's the preparations, plus wouldn't it be better to leave on a full stomach and the support of your people.”

“No.”

Your flat, direct tone cancels any further argument. “If that is what you wish… old friend. Allow my staff to escort you to your room.”

-

You settle down for the evening in a room of the king's choosing. The bed is softer than you're used to, but too foreign to provide you with any actual comfort. You don't sleep that night, thinking of the life you'll have after you bring an end to the opposing forces' rule. A happy ending isn’t in the cards for someone like you, but maybe, just maybe- you'll be able to return home.

You refuse the servant's billionth attempt at offering you a warm meal, wolf down the dinner roll you snuck in, and tried to get some sleep with the remaining time you had.

-

You're up once again before the sun can peak over the horizon. The king, reluctantly giving in to your demands, greets you at the front gates with all the equipment his guard had prepared. You pick through it, only taking a water canteen, lantern, and the shiny new axe. The king appears uneasy with your hall.

“I do not doubt your skill, but is that really all you'll take? The journey may take less than a day, but you'll need to eat and walking yourself will only lengthen that time.”

“I know the beginning of the forest like the back of my hand. I'll be fine until I reach the creek. What happens after isn’t any of your concern. There's bigger fools than me ready to play hero if I don't come back.”

“I suppose you're correct…” He holds out his hand. “For luck? …and old times?”

You toss your bag onto your shoulder as you turn your back to the man.

“Suit yourself. Goodbye, Hunter.”

-

Word of your travel reached the village due to the drunken ramblings of an unnamed, yet frightened individual. The folk that shunned you lest they need your aid all watch as you set out towards the forest. Some try to give you words of encouragement or extra support, but you’re long past the need of their help. Taking your first step into the forest you feel the first thing you’ve felt in ages. Grief. It quickly passes once you cross the threshold of burnt wood laid out along the ground.

The start of the journey is as easy as you expected and remembered. Just a pleasant stroll through the woodlands, if you ignore the warning signs and nail marks in the tree bark. Some are faded and thin, but the majority are far larger and much fresher. They’re getting bolder. Best to hurry.

You make it to the creek with a few hours of daylight to spare. The bridge across it broke when you were a child, but now you were old enough to cross straight through without the fear of being swept away. The water barely reaches mid calf when you roll up your sleeves and step in. You hear splashing from nearby, but they quickly disburse with the squeak of a small gasp. The wise ones knew to steer clear of anyone who matched your general profile. 

Crossing into the forbidden area of the forest, you expect more danger than you're met with. In this business, it's more worrying to go without danger than to be right in the middle of it. The only sounds you hear are the crunch of leaves beneath your boots – and the rumble from your stomach. 

You stop to take a break at an overturned stump. The weight of the situation is really getting to you. Normally you’re about to go at least a day or two without something to eat, but now your body was fighting just to keep upright. You check your bag to see if you had anything left over from the last time you packed. It's empty, besides a single snack cake at the bottom of the sack. And a note.

“Dearest Hunter,

I know things between us have soured over the years. Your home was taken from you in the crossfires and that is truly one of my deepest regrets. I wish the fates could have turned out differently for you, but all I can do now is offer you my prayers and this final gift in hope that you'll forgive me in another life. Know that I do not even forgive myself. In the future, I pray you are cared for well.” 

You crumble the letter and toss it back in your bag. Could be used for a fire if need be on your way back. You take careful bites of the cake. It's sweet and a bit tart, filled with some sort of jam which taste you can't put your finger on. It gets caught in your throat after you swallow the rest in one mouthful, but you dislodge it with a sip of water and continue on your way.

-

It's night by the time you make it to the castle. The snack gave you some of your energy back, but your legs still felt heavy. You bite through the fatigue and lift them high as you cross over to the unfamiliar land. You were warned of the king's carefree attitude, but you never expected it to be this lax. Not one guard manned the front gates nor the road to doors from what your blurring vision could see. The wiser choice would have been to round the back of the castle like the original plan, but the prospect of freedom and the growing headache lead you down the riskier path. 

The heaviness of your legs travels upwards with each step you take. It isn’t long before you can barely keep a grip on your axe. You want to turn back, but something keeps you moving forward. The races through the trees. Cutting firewood in the fall. You want to be the person that loved those things so dearly in the past. You wanted to be you again.

Opening the gate with a shaky palm, you fall limp in the arms of the one person who could fulfill that dream.

Welcome home, my heartless spouse.

-

When you wake you find yourself in shackles. They're loose enough to give you a taste of freedom, yet they fit around your wrists just right to condemn you to the bed you lie in. You look around the room. It's impossible to move your body. Everything is so heavy and your throat is dry. A cool towel wipes away the sweat beading down your forehead. 

“Are you finally awake? I’m so sorry for the confusion you’re likely experiencing. This was the only way we could be together with our people coming for your head.”

His hands creep up your neck. Soft, cloud-like skin more inviting than the pillow your head rests upon, but twice as cool. His eyes meet with yours, too beautiful pools of love and adoration, and so, so much sadness. Almost enough to drown out your own. You know this man. You’ve never seen his face, but you know.

“They'll come around someday. Maybe not a month. Maybe not a year, but they will. I know they will come to love this version of you just as I.”

His fingers sap the warmth from your skin. “What ever did happen to that sweet human I promised myself to ages ago? Worry not for any attempt at change, for my love for you counters any tide.” 

You close your eyes. You don't want to hear another word of what he says. His lips ghost by your ear.

“Trust is a two way street. I should start our rekindling by informing you that it wasn’t just I who willed this fate upon you, but the king of the people you gave your years to.” 

Your eyes snap open. The realization brewing gifts you the will to speak. “You're lying.”

“I wish I was. I know this hurts for now, but in the future you'll see it's the best for us all.”

Your breathing grows ragged. “You're a liar.” 

“You and I both know that what I say is true. Deep down you know that the fire that broke out that day was not an accident. It was not by coincidence that the former king came across your weakened form. He was in need of a new tool, and you were in the prime condition to become his blade.”

You grit your teeth; nails sinking into the flesh of your palms. Precious memories break from the chains you had locked them in since that day. Your peaceful upbringing in the forest, the kind man who carried you away from the flames. The same man who made you kill those who you once called friends.

“You don't belong anywhere, my love. Raised right in the middle of the battlefield, neither side has use for you besides the things you can do. We are alike in that aspect. It's probably the reason you imprinted on me when we met for that brief moment he took you away. From that very second I knew – you were my everything.”

“Stop. Talking.”

“Don't be so cruel, my dear. There surely must've been a time when even you had a heart. I know that better than anyone. I will do my best to pick up those pieces and make you whole."

You can't keep it in. The floodgates you tried so desperately to keep up burst, and the decades of misery resurface. You thrash against your binds, kicking and spitting at the man who only draws his spit covered fingers into his mouth, and smiles so warmly at you. 

“I'll kill you! I'll slaughter the people this land protects, and then I'll go after that bastard and his! I’ll kill you all and I won’t stop until I make sure every single one of you is dead. Don't fucking touch me!”

The fae king hushes you as he hooks his arms around your flailing form. He does his best to comfort you, even when one of your hits finally connects, and long after your screams turn into hoarse cries. He brushes your tears away just as he'll do someday when he takes away all your pain permanently. 

“Worry not, my broken heart. You'll get your revenge when I bring you the broken body of that man to serve as the centerpiece for our wedding. We'll rebuild your cabin and live out the remainder of our days in nothing but happiness and pure devotion. Grief will only be a bad dream by then, but for now, just rest.”

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Edwin flipped the page in yet another thick, obscure volume, the title near faded from the cover with age. Charles and Crystal had retired hours ago with the promise to pick up again in the morning; the human claiming a need for sleep (understandable, considering it was the early hours) and Charles had gone with her in the event of any more unpleasant flashbacks (a common occurrence since she'd recovered her memories), leaving Edwin to search for any possible leads alone. There had to be something relevant in this one! After the fuss he'd kicked up to the Night Nurse about acquiring these particular books for this case in the first place he absolutely could not go back to her admitting that for all of his bargaining (or 'tantrums' as she'd called it. Honestly, that woman could be so patronising at times) it had indeed been all for nothing in the end.

"Anything interesting?"

Edwin did not startle at the sound of his lovers voice behind him. He whipped his head around to see Thomas, arms behind his back and perfectly straight faced even as the shaking of his shoulders betrayed his amusement at having made the other jump.

"Thomas, when exactly did you get here?"

"Here being my room? And you got here about ten minutes ago."

Edwin blinked. No...he was at the office in London. Finally taking in his surroundings, his eyes landed on a familiar circular bed and neon sign.

Thomas moved closer, wrapping the other in a one armed hug, "If I can bring you here without you even noticing, I think that's a sign you need to take a break."

"That's not necessary. Ghosts don't feel physical exhaustion, as you well know by now."

"Who said anything about physical? You might not need to sleep, but you still need to give that big brain of yours a rest before you overlook something incredibly obvious and important."

"I can't right now. I assure you, I'm perfectly fine."

"Yeah? Ok then, tell me all the basic weaknesses of a shape shifter."

"Child's play."

Edwin was confident in his answer until he saw the fond smirk on his lover's face, "What is it?"

"The fact you're mixing up shape shifters and vampires."

"An easy mistake to make."

"Sweetie, you listed sunlight. Twice."

He had? "Hmmm....perhaps a brief respite would be beneficial at this point."

"Perhaps." Thomas laughed, "Your research will still be there in a couple of hours Bookworm, come cuddle with me for a while. I'm feeling generous so I'll even read to you."

Edwin got to his feet, opening his mouth to protest when Thomas plucked the book from his hands, "Ah, ah. Nothing work related though. That's cheating."

He gave the end of Edwin's nose a tap before, with a flick of his wrist, the thick volume was gone. In its place a first edition of The Hobbit, a scrap of paper poking out from the pages (a source of playful bickering between the two. For all that Thomas was capable of conjuring books, he could never be bothered to do the same with bookmarks, instead using whatever was to hand. Thomas argued that at least he didn't dog-ear the pages like some heathen).

Thomas reclined on the bed, giving the mattress next to him an inviting (expectant) pat. Edwin rolled his eyes before climbing on and curing into the others side, closing his eyes and drifting along with the feeling of his lovers fingers running through his hair to the sound of Bilbo Baggins engaging in a game of riddles.

[s-4pphics]

let the rain sing. prologue. (a.a.)

wc;cw: 2k, dadsbestfriend!abby, lawstudent!oc, large age gap(oc is 25, abby is mid 40s), abby is bi <3, mentions of insomnia and prescriptions, brief mentions of familial death, brief mentions of weed, alcohol, smut l8r y’all know wassup

You were exhausted. 

You haven’t gotten one second of decent shut eye for the last three days, and you could slowly feel yourself slipping into insanity every second that passed. 

Strumming my pain with his fingers, singing my life with his words—

You’d been silently gnawing through your now rubbery everything bagel when your mother’s speaker rang through the kitchen. You jumped slightly, glancing over to your parents as they eyed each other with bright smiles across their faces. Despite the pounding of your head from the volume of the Fugees, you couldn’t help the softness you felt whenever you saw them in each other's company. They were still so in love after all this time. 

When they heard that you passed the LSAT two years ago, they were ecstatic, even more so than you’d been. You were glad to know that your restless hours of studying had paid off, but you couldn’t help the anxiety that washed over you when you thought about finances, employment, living arrangements. All of the things you didn’t have to worry about at university because your parents were that giving. These responsibilities started to hit you the closer the start of your first semester got, but you thanked god every day for blessing your parents with their intuition. 

They’d been quick to ease any tension that you’d developed over the summer, inviting you to live with them as you finished your schooling. You lived on campus when you were in university, and even though you were disappointed by not having another full experience like you did previously, you refused to pass up the opportunity of free… everything. 

You knew law school would be difficult—your first year rocked you like no other, and although your peers had gotten accustomed to the rigor, you were struggling just as badly as you were back then. 

And it mainly had to do with your inability to fucking sleep. 

You… could not stay sleep for longer than twenty minutes at a time, and it was killing you. Literally. Your friends had been making comments about how worn out you seemed. 

You tried everything: upping the milligrams of your prescription, indica, giving yourself lack-luster, unfulfilling orgasms, and none of it worked. 

Your parents knew about your insomnia since you were a teenager, but you never fully expressed to them how bad it’d gotten since this semester started. Your prescribed sleeping aids were not helping you in the slightest anymore, and you spent most of your nights staring at the ceiling of your childhood bedroom, counting the little glow-in-the-dark, star-shaped stickers that your dad had stuck to your ceiling when you were little. The longer you stared at them, the brighter they seemed to glow, even though you knew that they’d lost their shine a decade ago. 

You had another day of diligent notetaking and highlighting ahead of you, but all you could think about was fucking sleep. 

Hi baby .Some friends from work will be over today when you return from class .Sorry for the last minute warning .I love you & be safe .🥰❤️

You sighed heavily as you read your father’s text, your instructor's voice sounding like nails on a chalkboard as you sent your dad okay. love you too. 

You always loved your father’s vibrancy: you’ve never known someone as social as him. He loved to speak, to make friends, to learn the inner makings of their mind with genuine curiosity. He had such a comforting and attentive aura, and it lured people to him like they were on strings, and he was a puppeteer. 

But having company over tonight was the last thing you wanted right now. 

And your favorite pen was running out of fucking ink. 

Dammit. 

You pulled your front door open and was instantly met with the sound of laughter and glasses clinking. It was almost nine, and they were still here. 

… Great. 

You stepped in and shut the door behind you, immediately kicking your shoes off and walking towards the steps. 

“And where’re you going, young lady?” 

Your mother’s voice made you halt, and your head dropped in surrender. 

You turned towards the group spread out across the living room, and you smiled as widely as you could manage, adjusting the heavy bag on your shoulder. 

“…Hey, y’all,” you said awkwardly, raising your hand up in a stiff wave, earning some chuckles and warm greetings. 

You inspected the room as they all greeted you. You recognized most of the faces from small gatherings that your parents had in the past, but your eyes were drawn to the unfamiliar woman sitting on the love seat near the television, glass of wine in hand. 

Her cheeks were tinted pink, her blonde locks draping over her… broad shoulders and back. She was dressed in a white, floral sundress with strappy sandals, and you couldn’t stop the flutter in your chest when she wiggled her fingers at you in a wave, gently saying Hi, I’m Abigail. I don’t think we’ve met.  

“… No, we haven’t. Nice t’meet you.”

“You, too,” she said, her smile brightening. 

Your father cut in, “Baby, tell her about your law student endeavors! Abby used to attend!” He turned to her to continue his boasting, “She’s almost done with her schooling, I can’t even believe it!”

Abby nodded as she sipped her wine, her eyes darting to yours in curiosity, encouraging you to tell her about your education. You shrugged, “Uh, yeah. I’m almost done. Trying to be done… I’m dying inside.” 

The room rang with laughter, Abby's soft giggles filling your ears. You squeezed the strap of your bag tighter at the sound. 

“I know the feeling. You’re better than I was, for sure. I was two seconds away from becoming a gravestone.” More laughter shook the room as she shook her head as she reminisced, taking another sip of wine. 

You nodded, urgent to get upstairs and shower, “Yeah, it’s rough. But, uh… I’m exhausted. I’ll leave y’all to it.” 

You turned to rush upstairs, only trekking one before your mom’s voice stopped you again. Your legs were this close to giving out. 

“Wait, honey! Can you help Abby make the charcuterie board before you go? Maybe she can give you some advice about getting your Master’s!” 

… What advice would she give? She didn’t even finish school!

Your body was begging for you to lay down, but you spun towards the guests, “Can I change first?” 

“Sure, hon!” 

You caught Abby’s eyes one last time before you left, her gaze… hard to read. It made your hand grab the rail of the stairs tighter before you bolted up the steps as their chatter picked up again.

Abby was… very nice. 

You’d only been working on the charcuterie for about ten minutes, but you felt comfortable talking to her. 

You’d been curious as to why you’d never met her before, and you were eager to know more about her: how she met your dad, what her role was at the office, her… failed master’s program. She went into detail about her short-lived adventure at Harvard Law, and you couldn’t eliminate the shock on your face as she retold the story.

She’d received almost a full ride in scholarship fund due to her remarkable academia, but even with her suffocating schedule, she found time to fall in love with somebody. 

Then fell—

“—pregnant. Perfect timing,” she said with light sarcasm, and she neatly placed the crackers on a China dish. You shook your head at the mention of children, grabbing a plate from the cabinet above you, “Couldn't handle school’n and being pregnant, so I dropped out.” 

“… I don’t know if I should say congrats or sorry,” you huffed a laugh, suddenly feeling guilty about your judgment of her earlier. She shook her head with a grin. 

“Don’t say either. I’ve gotten both responses and I hate them equally,” she said with a playful glare, her mouth raised slyly. You chuckled gently, placing grapes on the plate. 

“I get that, at least you had time for a partner n’all that. Don’t tell my parents but… I haven’t talked to anyone since I started,” you said with slight embarrassment. 

“Shit…” you saw her eyes widen from the corner of your eye as she crunched on a cracker. “Yeah… you’re superhuman. I don’t know what the hell I woulda done if I didn’t get… yeah. Sorry.”  

Your cheeks ran hot as you huffed awkwardly, “It’s, uh, fine. I’ve just been really busy’n I’m sooo tired. I’m just… not thinking about that right now…” 

“I can tell…” she turned to look at you softly before continuing, “I can tell you’re working really hard. You looked like you were gonna hit the floor when you walked in.” 

Because you were. 

“I’ll be fine,” you stared into her soft eyes, studying her face. You couldn’t help but memorize the curve of her nose, the soft dots and small scars on her face, her rosy lips. You saw her eyes flicker down your face before looking down at the tray. You quickly changed the subject.

“So, how old's your kid?” you asked curiously, reaching for and opening the new pack of fresh mozzarella. You heard her breath catch in her throat. 

“She, um… she would’ve been around your age,” she barely whispered, and you nearly shot yourself in the foot.

You whipped your head to look at her, immediately setting the food down on the tray, your heart saddening at the implication.

“Abby, oh my god, I’m so sor— “

She shook her head at you with a sad smile, “Don’t worry about it, you didn’t know. I’m good.” 

“Still, I’m so sorry, that’s awfu— “

She placed a light hand on your shoulder, “Hey, you didn’t know. I’m fine… I’ve been fine since it happened.” 

You could feel her thumb rubbing into the fabric of your t-shirt, your bra-strap moving with her caress. You could feel a chill building at the base of your spine, slowly creeping up your neck. 

“Not to brag,” her voice got surprisingly low, a teasing grin creeping onto her face. You almost shuddered. “But I think I’m doing pretty well given the circumstances. I’m making a fucking charcuterie board like some rich auntie. If that isn’t proof, I dunno what is.” 

You gasped out a laugh. You hadn’t realized how good she smelt, like a fucking rose garden and Cabernet. You noticed her slightly leaning into your space, just barely, and your heart pounded against your chest. You averted your gaze down to the floor.

“You’re so tense,” she whispered out between you two with furrowed brows, evident concern in her voice. “And you look exhausted. Are you doing okay?” 

You felt the hand still planted on your shoulder massage into it, her thumb gently pressing into the skin above your collarbone, and you sighed at her touch.  

“… No— “

“Giiirls, what’s the hold up! We’re feelin’ peckish!” 

You heard your father’s mischievous voice call out from the living room, and you pulled away from the woman who’d gotten way too close to you. You skittishly returned your attention to the loaded food tray, finishing the last bit of plating before grabbing the handles and rushing out to the crowded area, leaving Abby in the kitchen to grab another bottle of wine from the fridge. 

Your parents’ friends hooted at the sight of the tray as you set it down on the coffee table. You hurriedly turned to say goodnight to your parents, but you accidentally bumped into a flushed Abby with an unopened wine bottle and cork in hand. 

You brainlessly grabbed the bottle from her, your fingertips brushing against hers. You could’ve sworn you felt her grip tighten around the neck. 

You took it from her grasp, setting it down on the table before pushing past her, your arms brushing. You bent down to peck your parents on the forehead with a shaky call of goodnight to everyone. 

You quickly raced up the stairs trying to convince yourself that eyes were not burning holes in your back, rushing into your room and shutting the door softly. 

What the fuck was that! 

those pics r not eating omg

im mad late my bad yall lol

taglist? :0

mwah bye

part one. part two. part three. interlude. part four.

[song-witch]

Want Doesn't Equal Need

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

Word Count: 4,854

Warnings: Unspecified age gap (Nat is older), heavy makeout session.

Summary: Nat and Wanda have been going on strong for over a month, but will a little secret ruin what they have?

Part One Part Three

A/N: i wrote this all within the last 30 hours :)

Wanda groaned at the sound of her alarm, eyes slitting open as she blearily tried to turn it off before it woke the twins. The chances of it waking them was slim: the phone was maybe half a foot away from her and on the third lowest volume. If motherhood had taught her one thing, it was that you could never be too quiet.

She lifted her head just enough to see her babies, making sure they were still asleep and breathing before rolling onto her back. They had been changed fed just over half an hour ago, so they wouldn’t need to be fed for a while, but it never hurt to check. If one look was enough to soothe at least a little of her anxiety, so be it.

The sound of sharp cries pulled her out of sleep, reaching for her phone. She did a double take as she realized it wasn’t her alarm and instead was the twins, nearly shooting out of bed to attend to them.

“Good morning.” Wanda mumbled through a yawn, flashing a tired smile at the oldest of the twins as she leaned over to pick him up. It hadn’t taken long to learn which cry was who’s and what it meant, easily being able to tell the twins apart at three months old. She gave the same greeting to the younger as she picked him up, easily falling into their morning routine.

While it was out of the norm for either of them to be crying before she was awake, it wasn't impossible and she merely shrugged it off. She had read somewhere babies had an internal clock, though it wouldn’t develop fully for a few more months. Whatever it may be, she was glad the three of them had fallen into a schedule, well, whatever you could consider a schedule for newborns.

“Just give me a second here, Tommy.” The brunette spoke tiredly, sitting against her mountain of pillows with her feet planted on the mattress, knees in the air. Billy was laid on her thighs as he was the calmer of the two at the moment, needing her free hand to take her shirt and bra off. While feeding them simultaneously had proven to be a hassle multiple times, it had also proven to be the most effective method of handling twins as a single mother.

"I know you’re hungry, bud.” Wanda rocked him as best as she could, transferring him to her left arm. Neither of the boys needed help latching, hadn’t for upwards of two months, but it was still easier to hold whoever needed to start nursing first in her non-dominant arm and then hold the second with her dominant arm.

“See? You’re okay, bubs.” The student murmured softly, splitting her attention between the two as she picked up Billy, situating him on her right side with a soft sigh. She leaned her head back, letting her eyes flutter shut while the twins ate. She didn’t know why she was so tired all of a sudden. While she hadn’t gotten a full night of sleep in months, the twins had been sleeping exceptionally well the last few nights, meaning she too had been actually sleeping.

Obviously she knew she would be playing catch up with her sleep; the twins had just turned three months just over a week ago, though she knew she was far from any of them sleeping through the night anytime soon. Still, she had easily slept over six hours last night, the most she had gotten on a school night since starting fall semester. Whatever it may be, she was tempted to fall back asleep and wait for her second alarm, even though it wouldn’t be more than five minutes at the most.

“Wanda. Are you up?” The pounding on her bedroom door had her wincing, begrudgingly opening her eyes. She had all of ten seconds to pull her comforter over herself, well as much as she could, before her door was shoved open, Pietro standing in her doorway. He was dressed in shorts and a muscle tank, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe of her room. She was sure he’d never learn how to wait before barging in. It was a brother thing, she supposed.

“I am now.” Wanda met his eyes with a straight face, clearly unamused. It wasn’t because she was feeding the twins: she’d be more concerned if he asked her to cover herself up because he was uncomfortable, with how many times he had walked into her room without so much as knocking. He, at the very least, had learned to do that much.

“Am I watching them today or not?” Pietro huffed, rolling his eyes. Sassy man apocalypse. It was unfortunate, really. He was such a good brother, she didn’t know why he had to be an asshole sometimes. It was a brother thing she supposed.

“You said you would?” Wanda fixed him with a stare, shaking her head just slightly. School had started a month and a half ago; why was he questioning the schedule they had made? Granted, she had to remind him everyday he watched them. Whatever. He was the only one she truly trusted watching the twins and was beyond grateful, even if he could be the most annoying human. She’s sure he cries more than the twins combined.

“You weren’t responding to my texts.” He shrugged, biting out of an apple that seemed to appear out of thin air in his hand. He did that a lot. Which was weird considering how Wanda notices just about everything. Like how both of his socks had holes and he wouldn’t buy another pair because they were ‘still good’. His words, not hers.

“What time is it?” Wanda couldn’t exactly look at her phones, the twins still in her arms. That was weird, though. Wanda was almost always up earlier than him, especially after having the twins. She liked to joke that they were her own personal alarm clock; waking her up at hours that Pietro considered bedtime. Pietro just said she was getting old and her jokes were getting lame.

“Like… nine.” He looked at his phone, turning it towards her. It was two minutes before nine. Fuck. She was supposed to be up by eight and leaving by nine thirty. She was so fucked. Her alarm went off. But that was the first alarm, not her second one.

“Fuck. Are you- you’re joking.” Wanda sat up, wincing slightly as the twins didn’t appreciate the sudden change in position. She mumbled a soft sorry to them, her comforter pooling around her stomach. She hated her stomach. Didn’t want to think about how disgusting it had become after giving birth. She’d do it again if it meant having her babies. “Why would I-”

“Get out! I- oh my god.” Wanda was vaguely aware of the fact that she had gone to bed without shorts on. It had become more common since she started seeing Nat, a side effect of falling asleep after a single orgasm, she was sure. That and she didn’t anticipate her brother waking her up. “I don’t have clothes on!”

Pietro made some sort of barfing sound before turning, closing the door behind her. Realistically, there was nothing she could do until the twins were done eating. She still stood up, using her foot to find the pair of leggings she had worn the day before. Nat had said they made her ass look fat, that she needed to buy more flair leggings because there was just something about them. She had also said her tits looked good in a nursing bra. Wanda wasn’t so sure about that.

It took longer than she would’ve like to find them, flinging them onto her bed before searching for some kind of top. Tommy had stopped eating and had started fussing. She couldn’t do much but rock and shush him. She caught herself in the mirror, stopping almost immediately. She had no time to do her hair or makeup.

“C’mon Billy. I need you to hurry up.” Wanda glanced at the younger of the twins, her eyes flitting between the two. It was a habit of hers. Making sure they were both here. That they were actually hers.

As soon as he finished she was burping them, standing topless in the middle of her room. It didn’t take long before they were both situated in their bassinets, both fed and happy. Wanda was neither of those things. She felt like one of those old shows where they ran around like a madman trying to find something. She was running around like a madman trying to figure out what she was doing. She pulled on her pants and a sweatshirt, hair tie held in her mouth as she roughly brushed her hair back into a snarly ponytail. She’d fix it later.

“I didn't have time to pump, so this will have to do.” Wanda was laying the twins in Pietro’s arms before taking two frozen baggies out of the freezer, running the faucet while she got her backpack ready. She was throwing random things in there; notebooks, her laptop, a random bar sitting on the island. A bowl was filled with warm water, the two baggies tossed in there before she put them in the fridge. “You know where all their stuff is. Milk is in the fridge.”

Wanda shrugged her jacket on, pulling her backpack on after and her hair out of them, walking towards the living room. She kissed both of the babies foreheads, telling them both she loved them before she was pulling on her shoes and out the door. It was 9:38. She’d make it on time. Hopefully.

*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*\/*

Wanda knocked lightly at the door, a nervous smile pulling at her lips caught between her teeth. She had an hour before her next class and while she’d normally eat lunch, she had an appetite for something other than eating. She wasn’t sure what she was doing. Apologizing, maybe. Begging if called for. She wouldn’t be against it if it was asked.

“Come in.” The professor’s voice flitted through the door, a familiar coolness she had become accustomed to. The brunette took a deep breath before pushing the door open, gauging the reaction of the teacher. The woman’s face morphed into something between surprise and happiness. That was a good sign. Wanda shut the door behind her, slowly approaching the desk. Cautiously.

Wanda smiled as the woman pushed her chair out from the desk, all but pouncing on her. She wasn’t even fully straddling the woman before she was kissing her, attempting to thread her fingers through red hair. Of course this was the one day the redhead wore her hair in a bun.

“Good afternoon to you too.” Natasha spoke slowly, a certain rasp accompanying her tone. It only made Wanda want her more, fully settling into her lap and attaching her lips to the others once again. She didn’t know why she was so needy all of a sudden, wanting nothing more than to have hot office sex with the woman, no cares about the outside world.

“Less talking, more kissing.” Wanda mumbled as she trailed her lips down the redhead’s neck. It was a mix between kissing, biting and sucking, beyond sure she would leave bruises. She smirked smugly, knowing Nat would have to fumble with foundation before the meeting or walk out of it with a bruised neck. Both options sounded amazing to her.

“I saw you two days ago-” Nat was cut off by Wanda kissing her hard, their lips smacking. The brunette ground against her pelvis, tugging the redhead’s hands onto her waist. For as touchy as she was when they were at her house, she was lacking greatly all of a sudden.

“Two days too many.” The student pulled back just slightly, fixing the woman with a stare. She wanted Nat to get the hint and, at the very least, touch her. A quickie would be even better. That made her stomach drop, barely able to hold back a whine at the thought.

“What happened to no sex in the office?” Natasha questioned with that damn eyebrow raised. That alone had Wanda nearly begging for more. She ground against the redhead again, delighted when the woman met her. Nat’s hands slowly crawled to the bottom of her bra, sending a chill down her spine. This was going to be good.

“Don’t care.” Wanda muttered, surging forward to kiss the woman again. She moaned into her mouth, Nat’s lips beginning to move against hers. Her hands returned to her bun, whining as she tugged just slightly.

“Or,” Natasha dragged the word out as she grabbed the hair at the back of the brunette’s head, pulling Wanda with little difficulty off of her neck, “You’re trying to distract me so that I wouldn't notice that you were late this morning?” Wanda’s face blushed a bright red, her swollen lips and dazed look only adding to Nat’s delight. Wanda was easy to fluster. A touch here, a glance there, a sneaky text during class when Wanda wasn’t even supposed to be on her phone. It was probably a kink with how much pride she took in seeing the girl blush. She was too busy to care.

“Oh.” And somehow her blush deepened, her lips pulling up in that small embarrassed smile she did, her teeth tugging her bottom lip into her mouth. While making out had been her tactic to make Nat forget about it, she was beyond hopeful Nat wouldn’t have remembered this morning at all. Clearly though, much like everything else in her life, that didn’t work. “No?”

“Is that an answer or a question?” Nat had long ago let go of her hair, her hands settling back onto the girl's thighs with an eyebrow raised. Wanda pouted, whining slightly as the redhead’s fingers began to dance against the skin. It felt pathetic; whimpering on some woman’s lap because they weren’t actively making out, but she hadn’t exactly made out with someone other than Nat in months. It wasn’t her fault she was high and dry.

“Baby.” Wanda whined, moving her hands up the woman’s shoulders and neck to cup her cheeks, the tips of her fingers digging softly into her hairline. She knew Nat held a lot of tension in her temples, having seen her hold her head during class damn near daily and especially after anything loud. Nat had mentioned something about migraines in passing and Wanda had encouraged she get it checked, but Nat only brushed her off, stating it was her ‘old age’ getting to her. “I didn’t mean to, okay?”

“That doesn’t excuse the fact that you were late.” Nat’s tone softened, her eyes shifting between the brunette’s as sympathy washed over her features. Wanda looked genuinely sorry, like she had some reason as to why she walked in over twenty minutes late.

“I know. I just-” Wanda sighed, looking past the redhead as her vision became blurry. Her hands returned to the woman’s hair, running the tips of her fingers down the back of her head, something she did with the twins. At lot of her coping mechanisms had stemmed from things she did with them. It was funny, how they were what saved her and continue to do so.

“Hey, why the tears, love?” And like that, she had ruined the mood. She was good at that. She only shook her head, not able to look at the redhead with the way her eyes were filled with sympathy. Nat treated her too well. She didn’t deserve how well Nat treated her.

“I overslept and then my brother, and the twins, and I still left early enough to get here but there wasn’t any parking and I had to park a block away even though I pay how much for a parking pass and-” Wanda cut herself off with a gasp, roughly shoving the palms into her eyes to try and stop her tears. It of course didn’t work, no matter how much she wishes it did. She could hardly look at Nat, too caught up in her flustered morning recap. “And people walk so fucking slow and take up thr entire goddamn hallway and I can’t pass them so of course I walk in and everybody has to look at me like I’m some kind of terrible person and they’re not wrong bu-”

“Wanda, Wanda, calm down, baby.” Natasha was wiping her tears, when had she started crying, gently shaking both of their heads. She pressed their lips together just barely, watching as the brunette’s eyes fluttered shut. The redhead was so gentle. It was a stark contrast to how she was in class; mean and cold turning into gentle and warm. Wanda practically melted into her, her forehead tipping forward until it was touching the older woman’s.

“You need to take a deep breath, Wanda. It’s okay, okay? We all have our days and yes, it’s frustrating and beyond irritating, but we need to not get so worked up over it, yeah? It’s a pain in the ass. Besides, it’s better than missionary.” Nat rubbed her thumbs over the pads of her cheeks, talking slowly and without judgment. Wanda knew this wasn’t the first time the woman had calmed down someone from spiraling, having been in the same situation at least once a week. And yet, the redhead stayed. “But you-” Wanda’s chuckle was watery, the brunette pulling back and shaking her head as she dragged the heel of her hand against her cheeks.

“I was only teasing.” Natasha chuckled back as she reached for a tissue, handing it to the younger. Wanda turned away as she blew her nose, the professor’s hand almost immediately rubbing up and down her back. The brunette dropped the kleenex in the trash under the woman’s desk, a pout on her face. She wiggled in the redhead’s arms until she was under her chin, pushing out a breath of hot air against her chest. “Fuck you.”

“Oh, I intend to.” Nat’s hands crawled up her back, easily unhooking her bra. Wanda gasped quietly, pressing a kiss against the woman’s collarbone before pulling her head back. Nat had that damn eyebrow raised, almost as if she were challenging Wanda. And Wanda was not about to back down. She dropped her hands onto the woman’s shoulders, meeting her halfway with open mouthed kisses. It was all teeth, pure adrenaline coursing through their bodies.

“And I like missionary.” Wanda used her thumbs to turn her professor’s face up, her own smirk pulling at her lips as she forced them apart. It was all she said before her thumbs vanished under the woman’s shirt, pulling the straps of her bra up and letting go at the same time as she nipped at the woman’s chin.

“You little shit.” Natasha pushed them on the chair until the brunette’s back was against the desk, her mouth opening with a slightly pained gasp. The redhead countered the brunette’s action by sliding her hands around to cup her breasts, leaning forward to kiss her again. Their tongues easily slid across each other’s, matching sounds of want echoing between them. It was fast and sloppy, their bodies moving together in sync as they ground against each other, all wanton and needy.

The door rattling against a heavy knocking had them stopping, each woman panting. “What the fuck?” Wanda pulled away from Nat, staring at her with wide and accusatory eyes. She had checked Nat’s schedule prior to showing up unannounced, knowing for a fact the woman had nothing going on for another hour, when Wanda’s final class of the day started. God, she hated how much that made her sound like a stalker. And obsessive. She wasn’t sure which was worse. Either way, no one should’ve been knocking like they had some sort of appointment because as far as she was concerned, they didn’t.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Nat hissed, removing her hands from under the girls shirt. She didn’t move more than that, keeping Wanda on her lap as they both waited in silence. There was a chance it was some student that, like Wanda, had showed up without an appointment, but Nat knew that if they didn’t say anything, the chances of them leaving were higher than not.

“Knock knock!” A clearly feminine voice fluttered through the door with another light knock, a familiar warmth that both women knew. It forced them into action; Wanda stumbling off of Nat’s lap while pulling her shirt down, awkwardly shoving her bra to cup her breasts instead of Nat’s hands, while Nat rubbed the lipstick off of her skin, fixing her own clothes and posture from where she was sat. “One moment!”

Wanda had just enough of a mind to drag her backpack from where it was dropped next to her, pulling her laptop from her bag. “Are you fucking kidding me?!” Wanda muttered while logging in, attempting to brush her hair out. It was a lost mess, her soft waves turning snarly.

“You think I knew someone was going to show up?” Nat muttered back, reaching across her desk to rub at Wanda’s own lipstick. She’s sure it was as smudged as hers, though she was hoping that the low light of the lamps in her office would somehow hide that. Wanda shook her hand away, dragging the wrist of her sweatshirt across her mouth, wiping away any leftover makeup. The door was opening in all but two seconds, a tall brunette woman impatiently pushing through the doorway.

“Oh! I didn’t know you were meeting with someone! I’ll only be a few.” The brunette returned the woman’s smile, though how genuine it was was up for debate. Wanda could vaguely place the woman’s voice. She definitely knew it, from where though, she was unsure.

“What can I do for you, Harkness?” Natasha gave the woman a faux smile, not catching the slight flinch the youngest of the three made at the mention of her name, her attention fully on the older woman. Agatha Harkness was the last person she wanted to see after making out with girlfriend. Fuck that, she didn’t want to see her at all.

“I was just looking to go over the meeting outline, in private.” Wanda was unsure of whether or not Agatha knew it was her. If she did, the weird sappiness in her tone was definitely meant to be some kind of retaliation for withdrawing from her class a month and a half before finals, itf it wasn’t… If it wasn’t, then she didn’t know. Either way, she was not about to deal with her. Not here and not now.

“Of course, let me just finish up with Wanda he-” Nat cleared her throat, gesturing to the younger before clasping her hands. They made eye contact for what felt like the first time in hours, Nat’s nonchalant demeanor a stark contrast to Wanda’s panicked state. The redhead almost looked like she didn’t know what to say, her mouth open once as Wanda shook her head.

“That’s okay, I’m just gonna-” Wanda closed her laptop with a slam, shoving it into her backpack as fast as she could. She needed to be out of that classroom as soon as possible, no questions asked. She had no idea how long until her class started, nor did she care, focused on getting out.

“Are you sure you don’t want to-” Nat cut her off with, what seemed to be, a genuine question, standing just slightly with a hand held out, but Wanda only shook her head as she stood, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. She was cut off by the eldest, though, an overdramatic shocked gasp pulling both of their eyes to her.

“Wanda! It’s so good to see you again!” And that sickeningly sweet tone was back, some twisted grin shining on her face. It made Wanda’s stomach churn. The woman practically rushed up to her, taking her into her arms like a mother who had lost and then found their child. It makes her heart hurt for her own babies. Her face was all but shoved between the woman’s tits, a move she was sure Agatha was doing on purpose. She had always been like that. She waited until Nat spoke to pull away as the eldests arms held her in place, though she didn’t get far as Agatha wrapped an arm around her, her fingers curling into the bottom of her ponytail.

“You two know each other?” Natasha sounded shocked, like she didn’t know of the rumors flying around the department about Wanda. More specifically, about Wanda and Agatha. It was unlikely, though the confused look shining through her nonchalant stance had Wanda questioning her. If anything, she was praying Nat didn’t know what had happened. And from their many, many chats, she didn’t.

“Know?! Honey, Wanda was only my best student last semester before she dropped out for personal reasons.” Wanda felt like some kind of doll; Agatha’s hand petting the nape of her neck and down her back, a fake look of despair thrown on her face. She felt like a trophy, like Agatha was flaunting her for her own sick fantasy. It’s not like that was far off: Agatha had told her she had been her most willing student in years.

“It was a shame, really. Not getting to teach your star pupil anymore. She is looking quite better now, though, wouldn’t you say, superstar?” And now both of the women’s attention was on her, a look filled with expectation mirrored on each other’s faces. They each were expecting something different, though. Nat looked like she wanted to know what had happened, like she needed to protect Wanda from… whatever. No protection now, Wanda thought bitterly. Agatha… Agatha was expecting a reason. A reason for dropping out, for giving up, for acting like nothing had happened between them.

"Totally.” Wanda mumbled, pinching the insides of her wrists. She couldn’t handle this. Not today, at least. Maybe not ever. She needed Agatha to stop touching her hair, for Nat to stop looking at her like she was some kind of victim, for herself to stop believing she could keep running and not be dragged back down. The chances of any of the three happening were close to zero.

“You know, we could always use more students in Art History in the United States. I don’t mean to be a brag, but I hear the unit on the 1600’s tends to be a favorite.” She was lying. Wanda knew. Nat chuckled with the woman, but Wanda knew what joining her class entailed. Knew she’d be cornered with no way out. She wasn’t letting that happen again.

“I’ll think about it, but I gotta g-” So she lied back, taking a step forward to finally get away from the woman’s claws. And they were claws, with how sharp she liked to keep her nails, there was no way she hadn’t accidentally purposefully drawn blood with them. She was looking at Nat for any way out, though the redhead looked like she was enjoying Wanda's struggle, like she and Agatha had planned this.

“Why so soon? We’re only just catching up, toots!” Strike three for that damn sugary sweetness that Wanda knew was fake. She shakes her head, her vision slowly becoming wet. Why was she going to start crying? Couldn’t she have control over something? It didn’t help that her chest felt like it was going to rip apart if she took a breath that was too big.

“You can stay, Wanda. I’m sure Agatha only needs a few things cleared up.” Natasha smiled at her, rounding her desk to place a hand on her shoulder. Wanda all but shrugged away from it. There were too many things touching her. She was wet and sticky and hot. Why was it so hot all of a sudden?

“I-” Wanda stuttered, her mind blanking completely. She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t breathe. If she moved to far forward, she’d run into Nat. Too far back, Agatha. Why couldn’t she just leave? She needed to leave. She couldn’t breathe. She can’t fucking breathe and everyone’s watching her and she’s going to explode and-

“I need to pee.” And with that Wanda pushed past the older woman, all but booking it into the nearest bathroom. What the fuck had just happened? One second she's making out with, quite frankly, one of the hottest people she's ever met and the next she's being shown off like a consolation prize. And on top of it all, she desperately needed a change of panties. Of course, she hadn’t exactly planned to have a hot steamy makeout session on a rolling desk chair, but it happened and now she was left very uncomfortable and very unsatisfied. She was never starting a makeout session in that god forsaken office again.

[hellcheeriest]

i bet he's never had a backstreet guy

Twitch Streamer!Eddie x Single Father!Steve

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: We begin to learn of Chrissy's struggle with her sexuality, Eddie makes a big decision in his career, Steve is a sick, sick man (only for eddie munson), platonic!Hellcheer my beloved!! Robin struggles with close proximity to the girl she likes.

Content warnings: Slight age gap (Steve is 31, Eddie is 26) Steve feels as though he's too old to be acting like he is (I know 31 isn't old! Steve just grew up too fast as a teen dad, so he feels like his mind is beyond his years.)

A/N: Second Chapter yay! I dont really have much to say other than the fact that i spent like 6 hours straight writing this while getting distracted, and i havent read through this so i apologize for any mistakes or innacuracies you may find. Anyway, hope you all enjoy!

w/c: 4,850+

January, 2023

CHRISSY CUNNINGHAM

Chrissy shivered as the cool, mid-winter air infiltrated her room. She’d forgotten to shut her window last night while she was cooking, and the goosebumps on her skin had her shivering with regret. Her radio whispered beside her, the volume purposefully low as to lul her to sleep, an unknown host forecasting the weather.

Chrissy pulled off her sleeping mask, her eyes still closed as she tried to wake fully, letting thoughts of last night's stream come to her. She smiled at the memories from just last night. Gareth and Robin’s banter, Austin’s quiet but witty remarks, Eddie and herself teaming up to embarrass an easily flustered Jeff.

Robin’s raspy laugh filled her foggy brain. The girl had been complaining, again, about how she lacked a girlfriend. It wasn't uncommon, their friend group was her only safe space as a queer person, the area she lived in being a prominently homophobic area.

It made Chrissy feel different, though. She’d known she had always admired the girl, from the top of her brown bob, to the bottom of her cherry red converse, there was nothing about Robin that Chrissy didn’t find she was unable to admire. She was funny, and she was pretty in a way Chrissy hadn’t ever seen or could even describe. She didn’t really know what that meant.

The couple times they’d been able to meet in person were the times when Chrissy admired Robin the most. Seeing her through her eyes first hand instead of through the lens of a camera. They were also the only times she could experience their height difference, Chrissy having to look up just to make eye contact.

Chrissy sighed heavily, bringing her sleep heavy arms up to rub at her eyes. Her alarm clock had gone off minutes ago now, luckily her online classes wouldn’t be disrupted if she slept in, but for her own sake she decided to get up. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and startling when her phone began to ring from her bedside table. She groaned, grabbing it and sighing when she sees the caller ID.

“What do you want?” Chrissy grumbled.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” Eddie laughed on the other line.

“You always catch me at a bad time.” She smiled despite her light hearted annoyance. “Back to my first question, what do you want?”

“Can you meet me at the diner today, or are you busy?” Eddie asked, breathless, and Chrissy could tell he was getting dressed as they spoke.

“I’m free. Nine o’clock?”

“Nine-thirty?”

“Even better.” Chrissy hummed. “See you then.”

“Bye, Chrissy.” Eddie replied, dragging out the words. Chrissy laughed and hung up, putting her phone back down on her night stand, spending another moment on her bed stretching before getting up.

She padded along the hardwood floor of her apartment to her bathroom. She did her skin care, brushed her teeth and hair, and pulled her russet hair into a ponytail with a white scrunchie. She used her finger to press on her signature blue eyeshadow, a few quick strokes of blush and mascara, and a dab of a pink lipstick covered with a cherry lip gloss.

Back in her bedroom, she stalked over to her closet to find her outfit. She went with an oversized and chunky white turtleneck sweater over a green satin skirt that reached the middle of her shin. She grabbed her black, shiny Mary Jane’s and put them on over her frilly, white socks.

Finally she topped off the outfit with her gold ‘16’ necklace, a graduation gift from her parents, before doing a one over of her outfit in the mirror. After confirming with herself that it was good, Chrissy turned around to look at her clock.

9:04AM.

Just enough time to drive to the diner Eddie wanted to meet at. It was across the city they both lived in, but it was Eddie’s favourite and he was paying, so she wouldn’t complain.

Chrissy picked up her phone again to see two new messages. One from Eddie and one from Robin.

Ed

ready when u r :)

Rob <3

morning chris!  Hope you have a good day <3

Chrissy felt her stomach turn as she read the second message, and she bit her lip as she sent a quick reply. She shoved down the warm feeling in her gut, and typed out a response to Eddie. After it was sent, she put her phone in the sleek pocket of her skirt, and grabbed her purse before she left her apartment. She took the elevator down to the first floor, waving “Hi,” to her neighbours before leaving the building. 

Chrissy got to her car and felt her phone buzz against her thigh, the custom notification sound letting her know it was Eddie, and she got in the driver's seat to begin the drive to the diner. 

EDDIE MUNSON

Eddie stood outside of the diner, his hands in his pockets as the Chicago wind blew through his hair. His nerves made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and his fingers fiddled with his rings. It only took minutes for Chrissy’s car to park in the spot in front of Eddie. She got out, and rushed over to Eddie to pull him down into a hug. Eddie laughed as her arms reached up and around his neck, letting his own wrap around her waist. They swayed back and forth for a moment before pulling away enough to press their cheeks together, making an audible “Mwah.”

“It feels like it’s been so long since I saw you in person last.” Chrissy whined as they pulled away completely, grabbing hands and walking into the diner.

“I know,” Eddie smiled down at her. “I missed you, too.”

They waited for a hostess to seat them, and as soon as they were led to a booth and finished ordering their drinks, they burst into conversation. They talked about anything they could, and Eddie found himself purposefully procrastinating the one thing he had partially asked Chrissy to come meet him for. Soon, after their waitress came by and took their order, they ran out of things to talk about, and Eddie knew it was time.

“So,” He started. “How do you think I’d go about… face revealing?” Eddie asked, almost timidly. Chrissy on the other hand was ecstatic.

“You want to face reveal?” She shrieked with a huge smile. Her joy was contagious, and Eddie could feel his own face break into a grin. 

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t make a big deal about it.” Eddie hid his smile with a piece of hair.

“But it is a big deal! You finally want to show off that gorgeous face of yours!” Chrissy leant over the table to pinch Eddie’s cheeks to emphasise her words, sitting back down as the waitress returned with their food. Chrissy grabbed a hashbrown off of Eddie’s plate as he took one of her pieces of french toast. “It’s exciting!” She whispered.

“Okay, okay!” Eddie laughed as he cut into his pancakes. “I just… want it to be casual, I think, and I want you to be there.” He stabbed the piece he cut apart with his fork, and shovelled it into his mouth. Chrissy “Awe’d” and smiled with soft eyes at Eddie’s words.

“Well,” Chrissy started. “I guess we’ve got an important stream to plan.”

ROBIN BUCKLEY

Music blasted from the bathroom of Robin’s home. Chappell Roan’s Pink Pony Club could be heard all through the house. Inside, she was singing along as she pulled her eye down to put eyeliner on her waterline.

“Robin! Turn that down!” Her mother shouted and hit her fists against the bathroom door.

“God, Mom, Okay!” She shouted back, rolling her eyes as she grabbed her phone. She turned the volume down, and stared at her home screen. It was a picture of her and Chrissy they had gotten the week their whole friend group decided to meet up for the first time. Her hair was longer, being cut into a short bob now, and Chrissy’s hair was the opposite: shorter than her current length. They looked happy. 

Robin sighed as she pulled up her messenger, sending a quick good morning text to Chrissy before putting her phone back down on the counter.

Perhaps she’d been harbouring a crush on the blonde for a long time. Can you blame her? Chrissy was perfect in every way. She was beautiful, funny and devastatingly kind. She hadn't even changed how she acted around her when Robin came out! Which should be the bare minimum, Robin knows this. She just wasn’t used to the amount of acceptance her friends showed.

Only problem? Chrissy was definitely straight. She’d only ever talked about past boyfriends, and never expressed any romantic interest in women. Eddie would tell her not to lose hope, though that was often hard. Plus, she lived like a thousand miles away from each other. They’ve seen each other in person twice since they met four years ago, and long distance relationships almost never work out.

She shook her head to dispel any thought about the girl. She would be going shopping today after getting her paycheck. Working at an old, shitty, video rental store may suck, but it did pay well and she needed to feed her vinyl collection. Hopefully it would be enough to distract her.

STEVE HARRINGTON

“You, your sex is on fire.” Steve heard being sung from the TV. He recognized the voice as the streamer Dustin had taken such a liking to. Steve left his office and walked towards the living room and he could see the stream on the large screen. This time, it was live camera footage that showed a young blonde woman instead of the gameplay he was used to seeing. The man’s, Eddie’s, voice was actually really nice. It was husky and raspy, the clear tenor tone sending shivers down Steve’s spine. Steve leaned on the door frame as he watched and listened.

“The dark of the alley, the breaking of day.” Eddie continued.The girl in the camera seemed to be having a good time, swaying back and forth with the music. Occasionally, she would lay her head on the T-shirt clad shoulder next to her, and a heavily ringed hand would raise up and hold the side of her head.

“Are they dating?” Steve found himself asking. He mentally kicked himself. Why did he care if some random internet personalities were dating?

“Crap! Dad, you startled me!” Dustin clutched at his chest dramatically and Steve shook his head. “No, they’re just really good friends.” He turned down the volume of the TV and Steve came and sat on the couch next to his son.

“Oh, so like you and this Suzie I'm always hearing about?” Steve poked Dustin’s shoulder repeatedly until his son grabbed his wrist.

“Dad!” The boy exclaimed as he flushed red. He turned away and covered his face, and Steve smiled as he rubbed Dustin’s back. The light sound of the blonde girl laughing brought their attention back to the TV.

“Wow, Chris. I can’t believe you’d spread this propaganda about me.” The girl threw her head back and cackled. Steve remembered a ‘Chrissy’ that Dustin was talking about, this must be her. “She just referred to me as a ladies man as if I got any play in high school. I was a theatre kid, Cunningham, try again.”

“You wouldn’t believe the things I heard about you during lunch at the cheerleader’s table, Ed.” She reached over, past the camera's view and Steve guessed she was grabbing at Eddie’s head. “If they weren’t waiting for you to ask them out, you would’ve been drowning in bitches.”

“Hardy har har. Yeah, okay.” Two larger hands pushed smaller ones back into frame. “Anyways, guys. We have some big news!” The facecam turned off, and Steve felt Dustin tense next to him. “As some of you might’ve heard, they’re holding a convention in a smaller town in Indiana called Hawkins.

“So, we just wanted to let you all know that me, Chrissy, Robin and the guys are going to be there. So since you’re going to have to see me there, I figured I should…” Eddie’s voice got tense as he spoke, and then the camera turned back on. This time, though, it wasn’t the blonde girl. It was a man.

A man with dark, shoulder-length curls that were frizzy, but nevertheless striking. His skin was pale, and contrasted against the pink of his lips. His eyes were big, and a deep brown, dark enough to where Steve couldn't see a pupil. They were surrounded by long eyelashes and it seemed as though he was wearing eyeliner. The neckline of his shirt was cut and jagged, and exposed his prominent collar bones and the tattoo that lay inked into his skin. He was devastatingly pretty. He smiled, and turned to read the chat that was going a million miles a minute, all messages sharing feelings of shock and awe.

“Thanks, guys. Hoo-kay, I’m shaking. We’re okay, we’re okay.” Eddie pulled his hair behind his shoulders, revealing the plethora of piercings on both ears. “But, yeah. Next month from February twenty-sixth to March 2nd. I’ll be putting more information on my twitter, along with prices.” Chrissy came back into view. Behind Eddie, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rested her chin on the top of his head.

“Can’t wait to see you guys!” Chrissy exclaimed, and Eddie laughed as he reached up to grab her arms. Steve noticed they had matching bracelets.

“Keep a look out on instagram and twitter, photo dump coming soon.” The two waved at the camera, and sang out a long “Bye,” before they were gone and the stream was over. Steve and Dustin stayed frozen, and Steve knew Dustin was also in shock after seeing Eddie. 

Though they were in shock for two different reasons.

“Dad, they’re coming here for a convention! We have to go. Can we? Please?” Dustin pleaded and Steve thought for a moment.

“I’ll see what I can do, bud.” Steve answered and Dustin grinned before running to his room. Steve pulled out his phone and looked for Eddie’s twitter. When he clicked on the account, he found the link in his bio that led to the convention information, and when he scrolled down he found pictures already posted.

Most of them were group photos, with Chrissy, another girl almost the same height as Eddie, as well as three more guys Steve assumed were his other friends. He scrolled down further, and found a post-concert photo with Chrissy. They were both obviously worn out, and Steve found the drastic difference in the way they dressed funny. 

Eddie was all leather, and sharp edges, while Chrissy was pink and bubbly.

Steve internally scolded himself for the way his stomach churned when he found a particular photo of Eddie by himself. He was kneeling on a stage, a microphone in one hand, and the other holding the fingers of whoever took the photo. He wore a loose, black fishnet top over a black tank with torn up, black skinny jeans. His hair was messier than he’d seen in the other photos, and his face was slightly flushed in a way that suggested he was probably drunk. He smirked in a smug way that had Steve feeling as if he were a high schooler seeing his hallway crush. At the realisation, he quickly scrolled back to the top of profile and clicked the link, his face red. 

He shouldn't be feeling this way about some guy on a screen, much less a twenty-something year old. Steve should know better at his grown age.

He filled out his information, and when looking at the full price he sighed. He could already hear his wallet begging for mercy.

—

TIME SKIP

—

February 2023

EDDIE MUNSON

This was crazy.

Just a month ago did he live stream his face to the internet which sparked creativity in the artistic part of his group of fans. He was tagged in a bunch of drawing’s of him, as well as video edits to quite suggestive audios. It was strange, Eddie thought, to be praised like this for your appearance. But, if he was honest, he wasn't complaining.

Now, he was mentally preparing for the convention. Eddie wasn’t entirely a social person, he’d much rather be with his circle of friends and maybe a few others. This was an entirely different level. He sat on the bed in the hotel room he and Austin would be sharing. Jeff and Gareth were in the room across from them and Robin and Chrissy’s room were down the hall. The last pair excited Eddie.

Robin often confided in him when she was especially upset about her situation, and Eddie could sympathise. Falling for straight people was never fun. But, Eddie wasn’t entirely sure that Chrissy was straight. He never pressed her on the issue though. Poor girl. She’ll never know what hit her.

 Robin had been accidentally flirting with the girl since they arrived in Hawkins, and Eddie had to stifle laughter when it backfired. Robin would shoot him a glare and a lighthearted middle-finger.

Chrissy didn’t seem to catch on despite her array of ex-boyfriends that probably acted the same way around her before they dated. Though, Eddie guessed he couldn’t blame her. Robin’s attempts at flirting could be compared to the sight of a dumpster fire.

Eddie sighed and laid back on his bed, bored and left without anything to do. Not like he really wanted to do anything. Flying sucked, he hated aeroplanes and he was always left exhausted after taking one. 

But he was also insanely hungry. He could probably order in but he did not feel like talking over the phone and Hawkins seemed like a pretty old-fashioned town so god knows if any of the restaurants here have any apps he could use. Whatever. Eddie sighed before he walked over to the door and pulled on his converse and tucked the laces into the sides of his shoes. He grabbed his room key and left to try and find some damn lunch

CHRISSY CUNNINGHAM

She couldn’t do it.

Chrissy sat on the edge of the single bed that was in her and Robin’s shared room. She hadn’t seen Robin for a year and a half, and so far everything has been great! But Robin makes her nervous in ways she can’t explain. She didn’t have much more time to think as the door burst open to reveal the taller girl holding all of her bags in her arms and her phone in her mouth. She quickly dropped the bags and took her phone out of her mouth. She was completely out of breath as she reached into her pockets to pull out her inhaler.

“Oh my god, Robin!” Chrissy rushed over, picking up a couple of Robin's bags and bringing them further into the room.

“Hey, Chris.” Robin said, still exasperated, and her wispy tone made Chrissy shiver. She reached up and pulled Robin into a hug. “Missed you.” Robin whispered into Chrissy’s hair as she returned the embrace.

“You just saw me like, ten minutes ago!” Chrissy laughed, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach.

“I know.” Robin replied as she pulled away, still slightly out of breath.

“Did you run up here? What happened?”

“Apparently the elevator shut down after you guys got up here, so I had to take the stairwell with all my bags.” Robin whined as she walked over to the bed and flopped down onto the mattress. She hadn’t seemed to have noticed the fact there was only one bed, yet.

“Um, so,” Chrissy started. “We only have one bed in here.” Robin lifted her head and looked to the other side of the room, then back to Chrissy.

“O-oh.” Robin bit her lip nervously. “I could sleep on the couch if it would make you more comfortable.”

“No!” Chrissy almost yelped. “I mean, no. That’s fine! It’s big enough for us to share.” She was sure her cheeks were bright pink. She got on the bed next to Robin, the other girl sitting up.

“Yeah, that sounds fine.” Robin rubbed the back of her neck.

“I’m perfectly comfortable sleeping next to you Robbie, I promise.” Chrissy said sincerely, grabbing Robin’s hand and holding it softly. She looked up at Robin, and took this time to admire her the same way she had so many times before.

Robin didn’t often stream with her camera on, and she didn’t facetime the group so Chrissy didn’t get to see her face much. She’d almost forgotten how much she loved Robin's features.

Her soft skin that was splattered with light brown freckles she wanted to count, her soft jawline and the thin dark circles underneath her gorgeous eyes. Then there was her hair. Her soft, wavy locks that Chrissy constantly wanted to run her fingers through if the other would let her. 

"Hey, did you think we could see if one of the guys would pay for our lunches?" Robin said, a grin on her face. Chrissy giggled and squeezed Robin's hand. 

"Abso-fucking-lutely." Chrissy smiled deviously and the two left Robin's belongings to be unpacked later. Right now, they had some boys to mooch off of.

STEVE HARRINGTON

Oh boy.

It was one day away from the first day of the convention Steve hesitantly bought tickets for. He and Dustin were all set to see the panel Eddie and his friends would be at and Steve’s bank account was about to kick the bucket. Dustin was excited, though, and that was all Steve needed to know that this was worth it.

He couldn’t lie, this was slightly for him too. Ever since he’d laid eyes on the man Dustin called his idol, he couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Steve’s known for a while that he liked guys. Before Dustin was born, he’d even dated a few, but he’s not sure he’s felt this way in a long time just based on someone's looks. The critical part of his mind scolded him.

'This is your son's favourite streamer you're thinking about!'

'His looks might deceive him. He could be a total douche.'

'Is he really all that?'

Yes. Eddie really was 'all that.' His personality was large and he was really, really attractive. 

'He probably has a girlfriend. You don't even know if he likes guys.'

Steve sighed and rubbed his eyes. He would have to start on dinner soon for Dustin, Dustin's "friend" Suzie, and himself soon. He could contemplate this all later. Maybe tomorrow at the convention, but hopefully not ever again. He stood up from his chair in his office and closed his computer. He walked down the hallway and all that could be heard was the tv in Dustin's room. 

Suspicious. 

He walked further and leaned closer to Dustin's door that sat open by three inches. After another moment Steve pushed the door open fully to see Suzie tucked into Dustin's side as they lay on his bed, seemingly watching a movie. 

"Dad! What the hell!" The two jumped and Suzie gripped onto Dustin's shirt. 

"Calm down Dustin, I'm just asking what you guys want for dinner." Dustin was red with embarrassment and Suzie just snickered. 

"Whatever's fine, dad." He answered. "And learn to knock!" He shouted on Steve's way out. Steve snorted and made his way to the kitchen now with three things on his mind. 

Whatever was going on between his son and this girl. (Which he totally predicted, by the way.) 

What he was making for dinner. 

An insanely pretty streamer he was probably too old to be gawking over.

Dinner was only going a little awkwardly. Suzie sat quietly, eating the quiche Steve had made. Dustin glared at his father from across the circular table and Steve tried his hardest not to make a face back. 

"So, Suzie. How's school been for you?" Steve asked as he fiddled with his fork. 

"Dad." Dustin groaned. 

"What?" Steve drew out the 'a.' "I'm just asking how her classes are." 

"Well, my grades are just fine. I enjoy my academics a lot actually! I only wish I could say the same for Dusty." She smiled at the boy whose face dropped. 

"Snitch!" Dustin accused and Suzie laughed, Dustin's scowl softened at the sight before it hardened and he turned to his father. "Don't listen to a word she says," Dustin pointed a fork at Steve who threw his hands up. 

"Alright, alright. Finish your dinner so you can have time to wind down before you go to bed. You've got a big day tomorrow." Dustin smiled before starting to scarf down his food as if he hadn't eaten in days. 

"Slow down, Dusty!" Suzie squealed. She was a good match for him, Steve thought. 

At least Dustin had Suzie.

ROBIN BUCKLEY

Lord have mercy.

The girls had come back from a nice lunch, courtesy of Austin who was the only one willing to do them a solid and pay for their food, and things were calm until the sun went down. They’d found a pizza place and called for delivery. It was good, Robin found, but she’d had better back in Miami.

After that, they’d flipped through the few channels the hotel TV offered and Chrissy began her nightly routine of a simple skin care routine and brading of her hair. Then, she would join Robin under the covers. She wore a mint green silk pyjama set, a spaghetti strapped tank top and shorts that ended before her mid thigh, and Robin felt under dressed in her wife beater and Archie sweatpants.

The only light spared was from the lamp that sat on Robin's side of the bed she was almost scared to turn it off. If she did, it would really seem like it was just her and Chrissy. 

"Are you totally sure you're comfortable with me? I mean, I've been told I'm a pretty clingy sleeper. I wouldn't want you to wake up with me-" Robin started rambling before Chrissy stepped in. 

"Rob! I already promised." Chrissy's eyes were drooping and Robin could tell she was really to pass the fuck out. Robin smiled fondly, brushing Chrissy's bangs from her face and pulling the blankets up further. "You know, you're really pretty." Chrissy sleepily admitted. Robin stared in shock for a moment. 

"Y-you think?" 

"Uh huh," She pulled a hand out of the covers and laid it on Robin's cheek. "Super pretty." Chrissy smiled and brought her hand back to her chest before swiftly falling asleep. 

‘Are you there god? It’s me, Margaret.’ Robin thought. She brought her palm to the same cheek Chrissy had just touched and she felt how much her face had heated up. God, she probably looked like a lovesick fool, but she couldn't even judge herself for that when she laid her eyes upon Chrissy's sleeping figure. She looked so at peace. Quite often she was riddled with anxiety or happiness, both that made her constantly fidgeting or moving around. Now, she was still and sound. Robin fought herself to take a mental photo, wanting to remember this sight forever. Wanting to wake up to this sight forever. 

Reluctantly, Robin rolled to lay on her back. She never slept well on her side. She turned the lamp out finally and soon enough her own eyes became heavy with sleep, and she herself would also succumb to sleep.

The next sound Robin would hear would be the screech of her ringtone and Chrissy's groan from next to her. Robin reached to the nightstand and grabbed her phone. It was Eddie, that bastard. 

"Eddie?" 

"Woah, morning Robin." Eddie seemed pretty awake for... Ten in the morning. "Just wanted to make sure you two were awake. I'm guessing you weren't until just now." 

"Yeah, asshole. I had an alarm set for eleven." Robin whined and Chrissy yawned from beside her. 

"Okay, well I wanted us to all meet up for brunch before the panel. So get ready and meet us in the lobby by eleven-thirty. Okay? Okay." Eddie hung up before Robin could intervene. 

"He is such a prick," Robin groaned and set her phone back down. Chrissy giggles as she rubs her eyes. 

"That's Eddie, alright." Chrissy sighed. She sat up and stretched out her arms. Robin had to stop herself from staring at the slight muscle the former cheerleader still had. She sat up as well, much to her dismay. "I," Chrissy swung her legs over the side of the bed before standing up. "Am going to have a shower. You want me to be quick so you can have one too?" 

"If you wouldn't mind. I could always wait until after we hang out with the guys too." Robin said as she walked over to the small vanity and started to brush her hair. 

"Oh, Robin. You are a gift from god." Chrissy responded as she approached the taller and left a kiss on her cheek before scurrying away to the small bathroom of the hotel room. Robin simply froze. This girl had no idea what she was doing to her.

tags:

@marklee-blackmore

[queenpiranhadon]

A/N:Yayyy first time writing Stardew fics AND an x reader, so this should be interesting lmao. If you liked this lemme know so I can do more like this in the future! This one was written a long time ago ngl, found this in the plethora of my notes app 0-0 banner art isn't mine!! The one on the left belongs to the amazing @cat-terpillar Here's my masterlist!

Warning(s): A little angst I guess, it has a fluffy ending, one sided love (for now), reader and Robin are besties lmao, strangers(?) to sorta friends, Sebastian’s kinda mean, Reader is a s i m p, reader is referred to with feminine attributes.

Pairing(s): Sebastian x F!Reader

•────•°•❀•°•──── ᴘᴜᴍᴘᴋɪɴ ꜱᴏᴜᴘ ────•°•☁︎•°•───•

You were finally moving to Stardew Valley! Your late grandpa had given his farm to you, in hopes you’d carry on the legacy. He knew you were always fascinated by the farm life. But there was something that intrigued you more than that. After settling in, you decided to walk around the town and introduce yourself to the villagers. There were daffodils growing around your farm, and you prepared them, a gift for your new community members. There were many of them, and they all seemed to love you. There was Pierre, and Emily, and Alex, and so many others. But one caught your attention the most. Robin’s son, Sebastian. He was around your age, but unlike the other villagers, he rejected every single gift you gave him. Daffodils, summer spangles, fairy roses, everything. He just gave you that same bone chilling look of distaste and annoyance. And it made your heart feel heavy. You didn’t know why you were trying so hard to win his affection. He was just another villager. Right? But there was something in his raven hair, and glittering eyes that drew you to him. You chided yourself constantly, knowing it was just a small crush, and that it would go away. At least, that’s what you told yourself. Deep down, you knew you loved him, and that you wanted to give him the world, even though he didn’t feel like he deserved it. But it was hopeless. He hated you, and thought you were a nuisance. But your heart still yearned and fantasized about the gloomy boy reciprocating your love. 

It was pointless. His beautiful dark eyes always glinted with annoyance whenever you approached him and eventually you resigned to your farm work, and tried to focus on your crops and livestock. But Sebastian was always on your mind. 

One day, when you had gathered enough gold and acquired enough supplies, you went to the mountains, to purchase a house upgrade. You were anxious, half hoping to run into Sebastian, and half not. The boy in question also wanted to see you. No matter how much you annoyed him, your abrupt disappearance left him disgruntled and confused. He felt… empty without your constant nagging. It was strange and the feeling was foreign to him. But he brushed it off, and trudged upstairs to grab a slice of pizza from the fridge. But he froze when he saw you, at his mom’s desk, where she offered upgrades and additions to houses or farm buildings. Startled, he wondered if some supernatural being was reading his thoughts, considering you were previously on his mind.

“Wha-what are you doing here?” He spluttered, embarrassed and a bit angry, due to your withdrawal.

You stand there, speechless, not only because he actually initiated conversation with you for once, but because he seemed hurt. His beautiful eyes spoke volumes. Did he… miss you? No, of course not.

“I was uh…” You didn’t know what to say.

Robin cut in. “She’s just buying a house upgrade, leave her alone Sebby.” She rolls her eyes.

Sebastian scoffs, and grabs his pizza slice, disappearing into the basement where he practically hibernated.

Turning back to Robin, you flush, noticing the smirk on her face.

“You want to impress Sebastian? Here. It’s a recipe for Pumpkin Soup.” She takes out a scrap piece of paper, writing a neat and detailed recipe for you. “He loves this stuff. I can tell you’ve taken a liking to him. And thank Yoba you do. That boy needs to get a girlfriend. Sitting around in the basement all day…” sighing, Robin hands the paper to you. 

Your eyes widen, in shock. “How did you- I can’t-“ 

Robin chuckles. “Just say thank you. Fall’s around the corner. Grow some pumpkins in time for his birthday.” her sly grin fades into a wistful smile. “Sebby‘s been taking my marriage with Demetrius harshly… he’s a good kid, I just wish he’d explore the world a little more. After he lost his father… he just wasn’t the same.”

You stand there, your heart heavy. You never knew he had suffered this much… It made you feel even worse.

“I-I’m so sorry…” you murmur.

Robin rubs the back of her neck sheepishly. “Sorry to ruin the mood… I’m just saying, you’re an amazing girl. And I just want the best for my son.” She smiles and takes your hands. “Now go get your man!”

Your grin matches hers and you dash out of the Carpenter’s shop and down into town square. Luckily, it was early enough that Pierre’s hadn’t closed, and you purchased a batch of pumpkin seeds. Rushing home, you till the soil around your home and tenderly plant your seeds, watering the soon to be pumpkins, and ensuring your scarecrow would guard them with its life. 

You were determined to give Sebastian everything he wanted and more. You wanted to give him the world. It broke your heart that he suffered so much, and you hated the fact that he was still suffering to this day, his dysfunctional family a reminder of what he had lost.

But you had to start slow. And this pumpkin soup was the answer. With Robin’s words giving you a boost, you powered through the painstakingly slow growth of your crops, trying to keep your impatience at bay. And finally, after days and days of waiting, watering, and teasing from Robin, a healthy patch of pumpkins was grown in front of your eyes. 

Your heart swelled with pride, as you ran your fingertips over the smooth and bumpy surface of the bright orange pumpkin you brought inside. It was perfect, the shape, the size. Fall was almost over, winter only a week away. You updated Robin that day, dropping off a package of goat cheese for her birthday. You both had grown close as well, as she had always looked out for you, ever since day one.

That night, you heated up your stovetop, your pan bubbling with water. You cut up your fresh pumpkin, the scent of spices and the feeling of home wafted through the air. 

It made you miss you family, and the fun you’d have in the kitchen with them. When was the last time you cooked, two years ago? Packing the soup in an insulated container, you kept it in your fridge, and awaited the day you’d finally give it to the boy that stole your heart.

Winter rolled around, your farm barren with no crops to grow and all your livestock contained in their homes. Munching on a crystal fruit you foraged, you sat on the couch, watching re-runs of the Queen of Sauce. After making pumpkin soup for the first time, the world of cuisine seemed much more interesting to you.

You really had nothing to do, with no crops to grow, no livestock to feed because of the new auto-feeder Robin installed, and no fruits to forage because you already has chests full of them. Clint had your pickaxe for an upgrade, so no mining either. Leaving you with one last option. 

You trudged outside, feeling the crunch of snow under your boots and reach at clumps of trees that infested your farm. Sure, having a large supply of trees was good, but you hadn’t tended to it for a while, so it spread to every corner of your farm. You hefted your axe and sighed. Better to keep yourself busy than let your mind fantasize more than you already had. 

You really were obsessed, huh?

Your heart was giddy with excitement, thumping precariously as you went to bed that night. Soon, the boy you loved might actually not hate you after all. Still, it hurt that you had to try so hard. You made it your mission to get him to at least befriend you, but the fact that you dedicated an entire season to make a simple pumpkin soup to make him warm up to you seemed pathetic. But Robin wanted to best for him and frankly, so did you. So you were going to befriend him, and make sure he would never be sad again. Or you’d try, at least.

You woke up that morning, your mind hazy but still as excited as ever. It was 6:30, way too early to visit Sebastian, so you ambled around the farm, checking on your animals and collecting their products, and visiting the little cave where Demetrius had set up a mini farm to occasionally get some products as well. 

You walk back home, and open your fridge, careful to go as slow as possible to the best of your ability to avoid awkward waiting. Grabbing the pumpkin soup, you place it carefully in your backpack. It was 8:10. You made your way through the back woods, where a path to the Carpenter’s Shop was, and you entered the home. Sebastian was in his room, and you decided to wait outside, knowing that you were overstepping your boundaries enough.

You made some light conversation with Robin who was tending to the shop that day, and eventually Sebastian exited his room, extremely surprised to see you standing there, your face beet red. He seemed equally embarrassed, and Robin shooed you both outside, sending a wink your way.

Sitting on the porch, you look at him, drinking in his features when you notice he was already doing the same.

You clear your throat. “I uh… here.” 

Sliding the soup you worked on for so long, over to him, you felt your heart flutter as his pale hands brush yours to take the dish.

“Is this… pumpkin soup?” Sebastian asks in disbelief. “I-I really love this. How did you know?”

You chuckle sheepishly, not wanting to admit all the digging you had to do. 

“I figured I should try something new haha…” You chuckle awkwardly. “I…” your sentence trailing off, your voice caught in your throat.

“Hm?” Sebastian looks over, perplexed. He was opening the container to sniff the smell of pumpkin and spices waft through the chilly winter air. Snowflakes coated his eyelashes and his hair, making him seem even more beautiful, if that was even possible.

“I-I’m sorry… for annoying you so much.” You murmur, a weight of worry, heartsickness, and guilt finally being lifted off your chest.

Sebastian stares at you for a minute, taken aback by your confession.

“I'm sorry too.” His deep voice fills the awkward silence.

“What…?” You whisper, shocked. Why was he apologizing?

“I'm sorry for making you think I hated you." He restates, his voice louder but still embarrassed. "I just...don't do well with new people. I'm sorry, I know you were just trying to be nice."

You stare at your hands, soaking up his words. Sebastian…didn’t hate you?

Silence fills the snowy front yard and you both sit there, with no tension or boundaries between you two. Maybe not friends, not yet. But you weren’t enemies either. Just…acquaintances. 

Sebastian gingerly reaches over to squeeze your hand, and you reciprocate, your heart involuntarily thumping against your ribcage. 

The gesture itself wasn’t intimate, or romantic. It was just a small reassurance to show that he was there. 

And you were fine with that.

In fact, you couldn’t be happier.

[e-b-reads]

Some things about The Chronicles of Chrestomanci: Volume I

If you are familiar with my posts on books you probably know that Diana Wynne Jones is my favorite author, and you may even know that this series is the first thing by her I read (at age ~10), which is what led to my lifelong adoration. So this isn't like an objective post or anything, I just was rereading and thought of some thoughts to share. (This was definitely written for those who have read these books, as it contains spoilers and references to plot points with little explanation, but feel free to read it if you haven't! I can't stop you and wouldn't want to!)

I have read Charmed Life so many times that there truly is nothing left for me to discover in it. You know how you reread things and go "Oh I never noticed x!" or "I had forgotten y detail!"? I already did that so many times that there are no new y details for me to remember. It's a little bittersweet: it's because of how much I love the book, but there's no discovery there anymore.

I haven't read The Lives of Christopher Chant as often, so I am able to rediscover things a little more. I reblogged a post a bit ago about how there's a sort of shift between "Christopher is a little boy having adventures" and then "surprise! his uncle killed the mermaids and he's been helping traffic them," but on rereading the book, I was struck by the way it literally starts with tiny Christopher worried he wouldn't recognize his own father, because he basically never sees him, and sees his mother mostly from a distance. Christopher doesn't realize that there's anything sort of tragic about this, and child me didn't remark on it particularly, but reading it as an adult, it's honestly impressive Christopher ends up as arguably well-adjusted as he does.

I like the parts in both bits where we hit the climax and the main characters get to come into their own. Cat gets less of this relative to the length of Charmed Life, and he is not the type to take advantage of it as much as Christopher, but I do like the garden scene. (Particularly when Millie arrives and Chrestomanci looks like a strong light has fallen across his face. I love them.) Meanwhile, the bit where Christopher gets to take control to try to trap his uncle is so fun. By far my favorite part of The Lives of Christopher Chant.

DWJ is very good at writing books with reveals that make you go "oh hang on" and go back through to find all the hints. I have found that there is at least one reveal that does this per each of the first four books of this series. In Charmed Life, of course, it's the reveal that Chrestomanci is summoned when you call, which prompted a long ago reread where I kept track of every time people called him - and indeed, there he was, just coming through a door or around a corner. In The Lives of Christopher Chant, the reveal is the way silver stops Christopher's magic and binds him to truth, which is particularly impressive since it's technically revealed in Charmed Life already - but I still had moments, this reread, of going "oh, that's why he deals with annoying teachers by telling them the truth sideways - he's used to not being able to lie."

Finally! I don't know if these books had a developmental impact on me or I would have turned out this way anyway, but I am the sort of person who (sometimes annoyingly, I believe) deals with stressful things by often going "well, it will turn out all right." I mean, I'm more complex than that, but I am able to see that things can't last forever and I've made it through every crisis so far, so... In both of these books, crises apparently pile up: poor Cat has the worst of it with Janet being a secret imposter, and being challenged to a duel, and owing money for something his sister bought, etc. Christopher does have to deal with trying to avoid his uncle, not being caught as a smuggler, and hiding the Goddess all at once though. And for both of them, the climax of the story twists around everything going on and everything important (and reveals the adults actually knew about and could help with some of the issues anyway), and somehow everything shakes out and is OK in the end. I think this is also what life is like for children sometimes because you can't always see the end of things as well when you're a child as you can when you have a little more experience of life.

[balrogballs]

Coming from Cast in Stone, I would love to read the part you said you cut out, about Maedhros musing about history. These insights are the best part of the fic imo, so if you're happy to share on Tumblr like you said, I'd love to read

Of course! Just a note to literally anyone else seeing this, this references my Silm fanfic Cast in Stone which has MaeMags in TA 2900s realising that Elrond has built a massive, rather fuck ugly, statue glorifying their redemption, but have fully omitted all their (less redeemable) deeds from the histories he wrote as loremaster. Basically I mentioned in the chapter that I cut some sections out because it made it too 'academic' but had said people could ask to read them here, hence...

_________

Maedhros didn't think that 'chopping wood in the Shire' was necessarily the task most suited to a re-embodied prince with one hand, but he had to admit that the dull thunk-thunk cutting across the Tooks' barking sheepdog brought to him a sense of stability that he had missed for - well - most of his life. Like the thunk-bark-thunk-bark was a heartbeat, like it was saying he was integral, important, and constant. 

He thought again about what the boy, Legolas, had asked: what would a history written by the Fëanorians look like? What silenced stories would be spoken, what unknown truths would be brought to light, and what explanations would he be allowed? And the implied, though not directly asked, what branches would be chopped off and what stories would he silence?

Maedhros was impressed that the boy even implied it, that he had looked Maedhros in the face and insinuated that if Elrond would bury histories he could not bear to face, then what would he, Maedhros, have buried? As if silencing and burial came hand in hand with the writing of history, like it was a knack that the Eldar had, for brushing over and cleaning up their worst memories - a sort of survival weapon, like a waterskein in the depths of Rhun. 

What would he write about his father? What would he write about the boys? 

(Not his boys, but the blonde boys in the woods - the ones he remembered only some weeks ago).

The two volumes of Histories of the First Age written by Elrond did not make a single reference to those boys, and Maedhros had spent two weeks furious about the arms-length whitewashing. But as he stood here in the Shire, detached from who he was and will be, with sweat soaking into his tunic from his inexpert wielding of a woodcutter's axe, the question turns on its head. 

If Maedhros had written the Histories of the First Age, would he have written of it? He, who could barely think of their names without shaking? 

History was, at the end of the day, a kind of junglecraft — survival of the fittest. Version after version of the past contending for survival; new hybrids of truth and lies taking root as ancient violence faded, buried in obscurity. Only the strongest, most palatable narratives were allowed to live. The quiet, the defeated, the nameless left behind only fragments —  scattered pages, forgotten heroes, traces of lives lived under boots. History remembered only those who wrote it; the relationship between history and historian both a bond of power and a shared captivity.

Could he blame Elrond then, for not putting such violence on the page? Was Elrond, when asked to write the Histories of the First Age, not then being shackled to the book and told to pen down his greatest traumas, the unbearable truths of what his fathers — who loved him, whom he loved, loved, loved — were and had done? 

What would Maedhros have written of Fëanor? What would he have written of Aqualonde, or the moment stone touched flesh? Here, now, even the memory of it made him shake, brought tears to his eyes. But at the time, he had felt nothing whatsoever. 

[scotianostra]

On October 10th 1802 writer and geologist Hugh Miller was born on the Black Isle.

I'm no scientist but I do know a wee bit about geology and how it shaped our country, Miller is mainly associated with the Devonian epoch. Indeed, his work on fossils found in Devonian strata gave the era its other name of the "age of fishes".

Back then though many scientist still had to grapple with the belief that god created the world and he opposed the theory of evolution, arguing that the complexity of ancient fish fossils was evidence that God created them fully formed. We can forgive Miller for this though as he was largely a self taught man.

Born in Cromarty, Miller was orphaned when his father was lost at sea. He was educated in a parish school where he reportedly showed a love of reading. At 17 he was apprenticed to a stonemason, and his work in quarries, together with walks along the local shoreline, led him to the study of geology. In 1829 he published a volume of poems, and soon afterwards became involved in political and religious controversies, first connected to the Reform Bill, and then with the division in the Church of Scotland which led to the Disruption of 1843.

After early literary ventures and a six-year period as a bank accountant in Cromarty, Miller went to Edinburgh in 1840 as editor of the newly founded newspaper The Witness. The newspaper, which opposed patronage in the Church of Scotland, gained a wide reputation through Miller’s leading articles. He also wrote a brilliant geological series for it, part of which was published in book form as The Old Red Sandstone . In this work he described his discoveries, in Cromarty, of fossils found in formations of the Devonian strata (approximately 416 million to 359 million years ago).

Of his remaining works on geology, Footprints of the Creator was the most nearly original. The book recorded Miller’s reconstruction of the extinct fishes he had discovered in the Old Red Sandstone and contended, on theological grounds, that their perfection of development disproved the theory of evolution. He also discovered the fish species subsequently known as Pterichthyodes milleri. It was largely from Miller’s writings that the Devonian Period became known as the Age of Fishes.

For most of 1856, Miller suffered severe headaches and mental distress, and the most probable diagnosis is of psychotic depression. Victorian medicine did not help. He feared that he might harm his wife or children because of persecutory delusions.

Miller committed suicide, shooting himself in the chest with a revolver in his house on Tower Street, Portobello, on the night of 23/24 December 1856. That night he had finished checking printers' proofs for his book on Scottish fossil plants and vertebrates, The Testimony of the Rocks.

Before his death, he wrote a poem called Strange but True.

I think some of you will recognise the phot s are by the pioneering Scottish photographers Hill & Adamson, the bust is by the noted Scottish sculptor William Brodie and is on display at the National Portrait Gallery in Edinburgh.

[percyaugod]

I absolutely love turtle in the belfry, Bat librarian has a lot of wasted potential

By any chance do you have more information about the au?

Thank you! ^ ^ Agree completely. At least give her a name. Put a nice little nameplate on the desk.

I definitely have more. ^ ^ Even more besides this.

Also, @malwine4 since you showed interest.

Based on an idea @the-lavender-clown gave when first talked about the AU concept months ago. So credit where credit is due. ^ ^

Splinter had dropped Donnie while running through the hidden city. Which he didn't realize until he was nearly collapsing from exhaustion in a New York alley.

Donnie, tired, scared, and confused, tried to find a place to hide and rest. He hid himself among some plants outside the library where his green would help him blend in. It was cold, but it was safe.

When the librarian arrived to open up the next morning, it was only his warning hiss that revealed his location. Scooping up the little creature he weakly bites at her finger, it barely feels more than a pinch, before curling into her warm hands.

Up close it almost looks like some type of young turtle yokai, except it's far too small. Putting them with other Yokai children when so fragile could have disastrous results. The things they've done to her poor kiddie room. Maybe when he gets older, and hopefully bigger, that will be an option. Just not now.

So Agatha does what she does best. Research. Books on child care, raising turtles, and anything that might help in this endeavor.

Luckily, Donnie is the perfect child for her. Quiet and constantly curious, always wanting to read and learn. These things she can definitely do. When he starts branching off into science and building things there's less she can help with besides pointing him to some reference books, but she'll support his interests as long as they don't damage him, the books, or the library.

Though when he first started speaking, she'll admit, it was a bit of a challenge. From being basically silent to no volume control was quite the shift. On multiple occasions daily he was dragged to the kiddie room by hush bats. How did he even keep sneaking out of there?

He never did learn to control that.

Then there's the sleeping in odd places problem. On top of bookcases, on the shelves, in cabinets, under tables. If he could fit he would sleep there. She was so glad he outgrew that one at least.

By the time Donnie was big enough she could put him in the system, she had grown rather attached. She instead formally adopted him so she could put him in school to learn and grow in a proper environment and make friends with kids his own age.

She couldn't stop a quirk in her mouth as Donnie excitedly pointed out a bookbag with bat wings while they were shopping for school supplies.

[ecargmura]

Tadaima, Okaeri Episode 8 Review - Hikari With A Dog And Relatives

Just a heads up, both the A-part and the B-part of this episode aren’t from the main story. The story with Hikari and Ran is from a doujinshi that the author wrote years ago. The story with the Fujiyoshi family meeting up with Kazuhiko and his father again is from a special booklet that came with the second drama CD. It’s nice that they decided to adapt obscure material that even normal manga readers have a hard time finding and reading.

As a manga reader, I actually read the doujinshi with Hikari and Ran and I do admit that it’s my favorite and I’m so glad they adapted it. The author has a way to make Hikari upgrade in cuteness. First, he got a sibling, and now, he’s interacting with a dog. As a lover of cute anime babies and dogs, this was REALLY bad for my heart. I think the best part about this part was seeing Hikari and Hiromu interact. It’s really nice to see Hiromu being a gentle and wise father and giving advice to Hikari without berating him for being afraid. He’s really such a great dad. I also liked the part where he was explaining to Hikari about the things that scared him like Hikari not wanting to take a bath with Hiromu anymore, Hinata getting married and his kids finding him annoying—he’s afraid of them growing up; the way Hikari was patting his head was so adorable. I’m glad that Hikari managed to overcome his fear of large dogs. I have to say, Ran is rather well-behaved. I know Golden Retrievers are gentle dogs, but all dogs can be a bit overwhelming towards kids if not well-trained. Iwata did a great job raising him to not be scary towards kids. It’s also nice to see more neighbors and not just Yuuki and his mom all the time.

The second part of the story is rather peaceful in a way? Like, Kazuhiko shows up, but it does feel like it’s giving closure to the issues from the previous episodes and from their past. Since the previous episode was Kazuhiko mending with Masaki, this episode was Hiromu and Kazuhiko making peace with each other. I’m glad that Kazuhiko is seen in a more positive light now. He’s not a bad person, but someone with a biased outlook about Masaki. I can say that like Kouji, he’s just flawed and it makes him rather human for it. I’m glad that this family reunion of sorts is more focused on Hiromu and Kazuhiko because it’s like a parallel of Masaki getting along with his in-laws in a way.  I liked the part where a childhood picture of Masaki is shown and Hiromu points out how much Hinata looks like Masaki as a kid, to which Kazuhiko agrees. Hiromu doesn’t hate Kazuhiko; he just likes to tease him a lot and is just a jealous dad whenever Hikari talks about someone other than his family. Masaki’s uncle who also happens to be Kazuhiko’s father, was really cute. He’s super chill and loves his grandnephew a lot. It’s still unknown which side of the family he belongs to as we don’t even know if Masaki has two moms or if he has a mom or a dad; I do think that he has two moms. Besides, the mom that’s always appearing in his flashback has dark hair which is what the uncle has.

There’s a nice Matsuo and Yuuki segment in the middle of the second part of the episode. Yuuki contemplates about marriage. He thinks it’s a complicated process after witnessing the tension between Hiromu and Masaki’s in-laws and relatives. Despite that, he wants to get close to Matsuo’s family because he thinks it’d be beneficial to learn and get to know about the family of someone he cares about. Oh ho ho, Yuuki, you’re going to meet your future in-laws unknowingly. A glimpse of Matsuo’s family is shown. He has parents and younger twin brothers. The Matsuo family is an all-male Alpha family with the parents having a ten-year age gap with each other; his ‘mom’ is the older one. The author originally wanted them to appear in Volume 3, the next part of the story that will start next week, but they scrapped the idea. The younger brothers will appear soon. Judging from the pacing, they should appear in Episode 10. The parents and the brothers apparently have the same personality, hence why Matsuo is the way he is.

The ending shows a new baby and I’m super excited because that kid, Michiru, is super adorable—as cute as Hikari and Hinata. If you were waiting to see if Hikari would make a friend his age, you just have to wait next week for the upcoming cuteness. I’m going to prepare myself. What are your thoughts about this episode?