#I’m ssso excited about this

[mx-hyperfixation]

LOOOK

ITS ON AMAZON IM SCRREAMING ITS GOOORGEOUS

SAGE YOURE BRILLIANT THIS IS SCRUMPTIOUS IM S

AAAAAAAAAGAGHGAAaAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!/vpos

[alcoris-shiz]

One Hell Of A Love (part 1)

One Hell Of A Love (part 1) Description: (The story was written right after finishing Season 1, so of course due to not following the full storyline of the show, apologies future readers!) Now that Sir Pentious makes it to Heaven, he meets a cute little nonbinary angel who shows him around. Important note: I write fanfiction like this when I get drunk for fun. I kinda go on long drawing/writing sprees and so I figured I would let y'all darlings have some fun with me being an idiot. ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ Part 1 Part 2 ｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ~ Master List~ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

 Sir Pentious’s POV

I glanced around my ssurroundings and gave a ssmall wave, the girl in front of me was grey-toned and had wings. She looked like Vaggie in a way! I looked over mysself and realized I wass sstill a ssnake. Good! I don’t want Cherry to be disappointed when we ssee each other again.

“Welcome to heaven! Oh my, you must be from that awful extermination! But I knew you guys could redeem yourselves! See Sera! I knew it!” the younger girl ssaid jumping up and down excitedly.

“Ssso thiss iss what it’ss like in heaven?” I asked glancing around. “I am in heaven, right?” 

“Yes yes, of course! I have a friend who can show you around! Oh I can’t wait! Maybe they’ll let you have the spare room until we can get you a place!” asss confussed asss I am, I guesss I have no choice but to accept their kind offer.

A knock was heard on the door as the young girl quickly texted on her phone. A ssigh was heard from Ssera, “Come in Y/N!”

“Oh and, I’m Sera as you heard, I’m a Seraphine of course and this is my younger sister.” Sera said as she motioned to the excitable girl.

A door was heard swinging open behind us but I glanced at the excited girl. “I’m Emily! Oh oh! But I do like nicknames!” 

I turned to watch her run to the door and jump on ssomeone. They weren’t very tall and had X (A/N: I’mma use this for leaving colors of your choice) skin and X eyes. Your usual angel look from the sseemss of it. But they were beautiful. I am loyal though! I will be waiting until I ssee Cherry Bomb again!

They glanced up at me and their cheeks went red. “Woah.. you’re pretty! I mean, you look cool. I mean pretty cool uhh. Hey, I’m Y/N!”

Y/N’s POV

Oh wow was he pretty. I’ve never seen someone like him here. Everyone looked very much the same, but he was gorgeous and different!

“Hello, I am Ssir Pentiouss! You are alsso very pretty!” his face went red and he slithered closer to myself. 

“Em, is this really one of the souls from Hell? That’s so amazing! What’s it like there?” Sir Pentious looked around me and smiled. “I have sso many sstories!” Emily came and joined me as we looked at Sir Pentious in awe.

“How about I talk to him about the rules we have and then you show him where he will be staying.”

I paused, oh yeah I was gonna house him. I’ve had temporary roommates staying while I waited for my sister to return. But I feel we’re gonna be good friends and maybe temporary roommates won’t be needed anymore.

 We all sat around the table as we watched Sera think. 

“We have many souls here who will not be thrilled about this turn of events. I have no problem with it, though it is complicated. You, Sir Pentious, do have a place here in heaven now. You will be staying in Y/N’s sister's old bedroom, we have not seen her in many years so do not fear that you will be taking her space. Y/N likes decorating after all and likes for it to meet their guest's standards and style.” I smiled at Sir Pentious, softly placed my hand on his arm, and glanced up at him, who smiled back.

“Though, we have rules. Families are common here in heaven. But due to the circumstances of where you have come from. No children. If you decide to have children, you must marry beforehand. Adoption is an exception to the marriage rule. You will not return to Hell for anything, I’m very sorry. But we keep those two very separate. We have few who go between worlds. There will be no speak of the exterminations either, it will scare our people. You must also know that you must stay on the down low, no speaking of where you are from. You are just a human soul who joined us. For now, that will be it, but remember that we are very strict in our rules.”

Sir Pentious saluted Sera and fell over, “Yes M’am!”

I led him up the steps to my townhouse and handed him a key to the apartment, “If you would like, I can help you decorate the room. It had of course belonged to my sister V, but she hadn’t been home in years. It makes me feel better because she was forever changing the style of the room, so I feel that she would’ve loved it this way.”

Sir Pentious looked at me with almost a frown, “Do you, know what happened? If not! I don’t mean to budge, it’s your life or something after!” I giggled. “No you’re okay, I wanna make you comfortable!” I paused and he put his hand on my shoulder. “I don’t know where she went. She left to work one day, I don’t know what she did for work, I know she worked with-... it doesn’t matter. She never came home and if I know her like I do, it’s because she helped someone.” I smiled at Sir Pentious and hugged him. “It’ll be okay.” Sir Pentious whispered and hugged me after a moment.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

A/N: So yeah, this will have reader pregnancy, and smut, and be quick-paced and messy. But I enjoy my drunk stories, so I hope you do too lol

897-word count I know it's not much for a first chapter but I promise there is so much more and other ships as well 🩷 Also so sorry, this was my first post on here I think ever for tumblr. But I needed a change in scenery.

[illprotectyou-always]

“I’m sure he’ll be excited to see you.” Ben nods softly. “Anakin? What are you doing today.”

Anakin looks up, “Oh we’re asking Anakin about his life? That’s new-”

“Forget it then,” Ben gives him a look. “I don’t care. You know, Anakin, one day when you’re tired of fighting with every single person you know, and you’ve run out of snarky comebacks, you’ll find that you’re all alone. If you don’t grow up and fix that you will end up alone.”

Anakin’s cocky grin fades, having come to life in the first place because he was proud that he got Ben riled. But now… now he realizes Ben is truly angry.

“I’m sorry,” Anakin murmurs. “Uhm- I was just going to study for mechanics today. Have a big test tomorrow.” He nods a little. “Ssso… gonna work on that. Hands-on studying.”

“I don’t know how you do that,” I shake my head, “I could never.”

[thewritewolf]

After the End Chapter 20: Safety

Finally safe for now from the Gentlemen, there are some lingering questions that still need answers.

First | Previous | Next | Last

@marichatmay

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

The trip to Marinette’s house was a quiet one. There were definitely still henchmen out looking for them, but with Chat Noir’s transformation restored, they posed less of a threat to the hero than the city’s many pigeons. Even so, he kept them to the rooftops, helping them across when necessary.

Eventually, Chat Noir closed the balcony door behind him and turned around to face the three people who had saved him that night - Alya, Nino… and Marinette. The last of whom was still refusing to meet his eyes.

Why was that? Was she disappointed that it was him? Or angry that he had lied about where Adrien was? Or did she feel he’d taken advantage of her kindness, despite him knowing her outside the mask this whole time?

Maybe he’d be upset too, if their situations had been reversed.

Nino was the first to collapse onto the couch, and almost on cue the rest of them followed suit - Alya taking up the other spot on the couch, leaning forward, elbows on her knee. Marinette sat in her rocking chair, and Chat Noir sprawled out on the floor.

For a few long minutes, they just sat there and decompressed. In the bright light of Marinette’s apartment, it was hard to believe that not too long ago he’d been in the belly of the beast, held against his will by some sort of shadowy organization. And now here his friends were, saving him again. Masks or not.

He had the urge to drop his transformation then and there. They had definitely earned it at that point. But something stopped him - whether it was fear at their potential anger or concern that it might draw them even further into this fight, he wasn’t sure.

Instead, he asked a question. “How did you guys know where to go? I’m grateful and all but… I doubt you were just happening by.”

Alya shared a brief look with Nino before opening up her heavy winter jacket. His jaw dropped when he saw two kwamis floating there. Sass, he recognized immediately. The other looked like they were based on a fox, so Chat assumed that had to be Trixx.

“These little dudes popped outta nowhere while we were chillin’ out on a jog,” Nino said, jabbing a thumb at them. “Said that Chat Noir and our bro Marinette could use a helpin’ hand.”

“Hello!” Trixx excited zoomed in front of Chat’s face, eyes wide and curious. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Chat Noir. While my chosen has fought alongside you,” he circled Alya’s head, “this is the first time I’ve gotten to meet you face to face.”

Chat frowned as he looked at the kwami. “Shouldn’t you be with Ladybug right now?”

Trixx and Sass exchanged a glance before the latter replied, “You sssee, Ladybug knew that it would be unwissse to go herssself, ssso ssshe sssent us to find aid.”

“And why would it be unwise?” Chat crossed his arms in front of him. Frustration bubbled up inside him - had Ladybug been keeping tabs on him this whole time? Why hadn’t she tried to reach out to him? He would’ve loved to have her input on this mystery. “Clearly she knew that I was going to be in trouble.”

“Well… what if they wanted both your miraculous, like Hawkmoth did?” Alya offered. “And popping up out of the blue after so long off the grid would be very suspicious if they were keeping an eye out for her.”

“Maybe.” Chat Noir pinched the bridge of his nose. “But then we wouldn’t have three civilians getting mixed up in something dangerous like this. We’ve taken risks before - and I’ve certainly put myself on the line for Ladybug.”

“I’m sure Ladybug had her reasons,” Nino said. He reached over to punch Chat’s shoulder encouragingly. “And hey, cat-dude! We won anyway. What’s the big deal?”

Chat clenched his jaw and glanced at Marinette, who quickly looked away. There was a long silence in the room, with Alya and Nino shifting comfortably in their seats as it drew out.

Eventually, Chat couldn’t stand it any longer. He stood up and moved toward the balcony.

He got a few steps before something had snagged his wrist. When he looked down, he saw Marinette looking back up at him. There was an unreadable look in her eyes, but he could almost swear he saw a glimmer of sadness there.

“We’ll talk about this later, okay?”

Chat Noir stared at her for a long moment before nodding.

He didn’t want to do much talking right now anyway. All he really wanted to do was lay down and sleep, dreamlessly.

But he knew he wouldn’t be that lucky.

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

It’s The Avengers (03x09)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 3 Episode 09: I’m Allergic to Bad Memories

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline   Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: *shrugs*

Word Count: I am sick. But I am out of stuff to keep my loud mind busy. So here we are. Be grateful to the Gods of k-dramas

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

The chirps of concern were a train of ramblings coming in between the nudges little orange furry paws were giving you; smushing your lips, your cheeks, booping your nose. The only time they stopped was when that echo that resulted in your unconsciousness announced a little plan. “How about I be of some help, little one?” Lulu stood up on his hind legs while he and his camera saw a pair of pale hands stroke your head ever so gently, whispering something foreign under a sweet breath. The next second, you stirred, perking up the little furball- who smushed your face and head with an endless amount of rubs with his own. You groaned before a yelp found its way out of your throat as you felt the bump at the back of your head thump with piercing pain. “Ow! Ow ow ow ow.” “Ah,” the soothing voice called out from outside the frame, “you hit your head pretty hard, dear.” The realisation of the stranger came a little late- maybe because of the concussion, maybe because of the angelic voice that seemed to make you feel at ease- and once it did, your eyes widened while your legs moved your body away from… “God?” you gasped in question while Lulu’s camera looked at the aged women smiling down at you with a glow unlike any. “More or less, yes,” the glowing woman in a gold dress chuckled before bringing her hand forward. “Come, let me help you, dear.” You tried catching your breath there. “Wh...who…” The smile on that bewitchingly calm face brought this uncalled ease inside your chest. “I’m Frigga.”

. A shrivelled high-pitched scream eroded the den as Javier stood frozen at the expressions similar to that of a spooked out little child on the face of the head of the universe’s deadliest mafia. “No, please do not hurt my face!! That is my one good asset!!! You always hit me where it hurts the most!!!” Taneleer cried. The camera focused from the ball of luxurious fur whispering on the floor to Loki- who stood there with his arms across his chest. “I didn’t even hit you yet. Quit being such a pain in the a-” “Ssso what! You were thinking of hitting me,” Taneleer huffed while he looked up at Loki, “I could see it in those snake eyes of yours. Like you will bite my-my h-head off!” Loki sighed and rolled his eyes.

Loki: *bags under his eyes* I am…*blinks tiredly* surrounded...by the most idiotic scum of this universe *camera pans across his shoulder to show Taneleer calling his henchman* “As long as they are here, make sure that little Terran is safe. Otherwise, I will cut off your limbs and feed it to the street rodents,” he hisses.

“I cannot believe you just thought of hurting me for that Terran,” Taneleer tsked and jumped in annoyance, “she is getting between our friendship.” “You were never my friend,” Loki delivered the blow with a straight face while the boss felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. “And to think I made little marble figures of us both hanging out in Knowhere,” he whispered with the hurt reflecting in his voice. “Who is she to you anyway?” He pouted. “Who is this creature to have you travelling by her side as if you are...she is...you both...what is she to you?!!” “Just get me my fucking grace,” Loki raised his voice while rolling his eyes, “or I swear to all the power in this universe I will personally make you suffer for frying my brain cells with your utter nonsense. What are you trying to do? Buy time till your rotten brain can figure out how to make up an excuse for your incompetence?” Taneleer’s slouching and sad figure straightened up and raised a finger. “More like, trying to buy time before I really tell you who I sold your grace to.” . “Frigga?” The camera took in the glowing pale face smiling in your direction as it nodded in your direction. Your face, on the other hand, was a mess of confusion, surprise and the worst possible daze just sitting on top of your forehead. “Like...Loki’s mom Frigga?” A sparkle went off in Frigga’s eyes as the already glowing face seemed to shine four times brighter. Her eyes widened and her smile seemingly found a reason to grow wider. That was till some uncertain thought crossed her forehead and her smile twitched and transformed into an unsettling concern. “This is…” Frigga trailed off. “Weird?” you tried helping her. “It’s usually Thor that people know me through.” “Huh...makes sense.” “How...do you know Loki?” “Oh, I’m his friend. Y/N Y/L/N. Nice to meet you.” “Ah,” Frigga nodded and mirrored your smile before confusion punched that softness away. “I’m sorry, you are what?!” The Lounge Scott sat on the sofa reading the latest copy of One Piece while the big screen opposite him showed Loki threatening Tivan by his collar. The screen did not seem to take his attention but the figure looking in front of it, going to and fro more times than Scott could count. Actually, Scott stopped counting after six about an hour ago. "Instead of working your legs, it would be better to work that mouth for your friend, don't you think?" Natasha called out from behind the counter, sipping on her kale smoothie. The words stopped Steve short, his whole face a mixture of blushing horror. "W-what." "That's not what she means, you thirsty grandpa!" Scott called his thoughts out without raising his eyes from the latest in Wano arc, "go talk to him." Steve blinked and regained a part of his lost senses, slowly moving towards the dorms. "And kiss him senseless while you're at it," Scott added, stopping the captain midway to give him an irritated glare- one that Natasha was loving.

Natasha: *smirks* I have to say it feels good to have someone else make thirst jokes on Steve too *Camera pans out to show Scott smiling for the lens* Scott: It's me *points to self* she means me. Natasha: I guess there are more coming? Scott: *gushing* you have no idea

The Den “So, if I were to summarise what you just told me, midgardians have no quarrels with Loki, Thanos has been defeated and my son is living with the Avengers now.” Lulu’s camera caught seriousness in Frigga’s brows while you nodded. “And I’m his friend,” you added with a smile before looking at Lulu’s camera.

You: I stressed that for reasons *shrugs nonchalantly*

“Right,” Frigga acknowledged. “So, how is my son? Is he here? My essence is only supposed to be released in his presence or someone he…” Frigga paused and looked back at you, this time with the keen observation that seemed to make you a little uncomfortable. “He is somewhere in the back with the anime-hair guy. They are trying to find a way to get him out of these cuffs my dad made so he couldn’t use magic. Long story. But we got teleported into some galaxy far away and now we are here to help Loki get his powers back so we can go home.” You thought best to blabber than stand there in awkward silence while Loki’s mother was giving you a deep mental once over. “And by we I mean me, Lulu and Javi. We are all friends. Lulu is the little baby we adopted on the way,” you cooed and smiled at the little pile of soft fur purring on receiving scritches from your under his not-so-visible jaw. You looked back up to watch Frigga’s fingers rest on her lips to mask some sort of emotion you were too late to read.

Frigga: This cute little midgardian keeps calling herself Loki’s friend *tilts head* and then tells me they adopted an old beastling’s offspring as their child. *contemplates* So...do marriages not happen on earth lately? Or is this something my son came up with? *raises her brows* no matter the story, *waves her hand* I am not letting him lose this precious one.

“Let’s go meet Loki,” you jumped in controlled excitement taking the first step to lead the way before freezing right there. “Wait,” you interrupted your own buzz with a grim expression, “how do I know you are one of the good ones?” “I beg your pardon, little one?” You sighed, feeling a little heaviness settle in your chest. “How do I know you are not going to hurt him?”

You: Yup *purses lips* reasons *stretches the corners of her mouth in regret*

“Did you just ask me if I was dangerous for my own son?” You could already feel the mother hen judgment even when you didn’t stare into her eyes. “I know,” you sighed, “it’s the space. My nerves are overworked and the only thing I can think of is Loki.” “...” “-’s well being.” Clearing your throat, you nodded at your own words, stealing a glimpse at the camera. “That usually does not happen. I can assure you that.” The surprise at your sheer audacity melted within ten seconds to give place to something soft and glowing; along with something else. You did not expect Frigga to bring forward her hand and cup your cheek with her palm to gaze into your soul while you stood there with disbelief dripping from your skin. “Your hand is so warm,” you commented after flinching a little at her touch, waiting for her to say something. But Frigga took her time, her thumb stroking your cheek while you witnessed the corner of her eyes glistening. “By the Norns, you have been one gentle soul through such wild storms haven’t you, dear,” she whispered, forcing you to grow more confused for a second, “why would someone hurt such a precious soul.” Lulu’s camera moved with Lulu’s body suddenly on alert. He could feel the change in the atmosphere right when the camera caught your crinkled brows release themselves to some invisible realisations that were either too quick- or too heavy- to bring tears to your eyes. All that your face carried was bearings of something that stopped time for you while your tears ran as much as they could; and with them ran your breaths getting shallow by the second till Frigga engulfed you in her warm embrace, her hands soothing your back. “Forgive me, my child,” she whispered, never leaving your cold figure, “forgive me for bringing it all back.” Lulu’s whines and unknown movements from the corridor made Frigga bring herself to face a dazed you. “You are one brave human, my dearest. Trust in yourself. And you are not alone. Take good care of my son till I can see him one last time.” With those words hanging somewhere in the midst of your ears and your brain, she left with a peck on your forehead, dissolving into the same light she was radiating all along.

The Dorms and Their Outer Surroundings The camera zoomed in to focus away from the leaves and into the french window of Bucky’s room where he and Steve sat in their respective love seats five feet apart, trying their best to keep their composure while trying to come up with words. Steve cleared his throat. Bucky moved the bottle of water on the coffee table towards him. “So…” Steve’s throat barely made any noise the first time while Bucky’s red face tried to hide under the shadow of his long unruly hair, “I heard that...ahem...that you…” “I’m gay!” The confession came like a shot of rifle mid-air, taking both Bucky and Steve by surprise. “And that’s o-okay,” Steve stressed, sitting up straight, “it’s okay to love anyone you want.” “So-” Bucky’s fingers wrung each other under the internal pressure to get the words out- “is it...is it okay to love you?” Unknown to them, another camera standing outside in the lawn witnessed an excited Scott perched upon the top of the tree with the headphones on to hear every word they said. And just as the confession came, the poor man caught hold of his chest, muttered, “my heart,” and fell from the branch while his red-headed accomplice waited for more. “Is it okay to love you now?” Steve was on pause, his attention solely taken by Bucky’s words and eyes. “Bucky,” was he was able to get out before standing up, forcing Bucky to mirror him. “I know this may seem out of the blue, Stevie, but I have always...always only had eyes for you. And I know times were different back then, but now I finally have the guts to tell you how I feel and I would completely understand if you don’t-” The words were stopped short right on the lips when Steve took Bucky by the collar and kissed him. “FINALLY!” a victorious cry came from the Black Widow right beside the camera, making the poor thing wobble and fall down lens first onto the ground.

The Weird Den Javier’s camera already caught the shimmer of an orb disappearing from right in front of you as he entered the room but his company was too late to notice any of that golden light that had just illuminated the room. The moment Loki entered the room the camera recorded his senses going off. His eyes ran over every corner of the room, over Lulu rubbing himself on your legs while trying to draw your attention, and then back to your figure standing in the middle with your back to him. “Y/N?” he called out, taking one cautious step at a time. You flinched. That stopped him right in his tracks. “What’s wrong?” Lulu’s camera caught your hands wiping away the tears before turning to face him. That effort was not of much use as both Loki and Taneleer could make out some real tears had been shed. “Nothing. Did you find something for your cuffs?” your nasal voice did not help your case either. Taneleer raised his hands a little as he stepped close to you, bringing forward a dense black fabric. You took without much thought and blew your nose into it, making the boss gag behind you. Loki clearly wanted to ask you about the reason behind those tears but those lines of latent rage in between your brows made him go the other way. “We will have to travel a little further for that, I’m afraid.” You sniffed, finally feeling the air in your nostrils. “Cool. Let’s go,” you muttered nonchalantly and walked out.  Taneleer’s eyes widened and he aggressively gestured his guards to follow you.  Loki’s brows raised themselves in question. “What just happened?” . “Are you sure nothing’s wrong?” Javier’s camera caught the grit of your teeth as you sat down in the transportation vehicle that looked like an exoskeleton of a schoolkids’ van. “I said I’m fine,” you pressed with zero emotions in your eyes. “Then why are you crying,” Loki pressed back while casually leaning on the doorframe and watching you with his intense gaze. You scoffed. “Because I’m allergic to you,” you spewed into the air and shifted to face away from him. Taking full offence of that statement, Loki opened his mouth to say something before shutting it back. Tight. “You know I’m still single right?” Tivan whispered from behind the God with a smirk. The latter did not pay much attention to his words. “I’ve taken some of your inventory. Don’t bother getting it back in one piece.” Loki was about to step into the van when Taneleer decided to open his mouth. “She knows you are here.” Loki paused, his hand resting on the frame and his biceps feeling a tug under his dark shirt. “She knows you are out of hiding, Loki. She will come for you. I know you already know that. And she will come for anything-” his gaze shifted from Loki’s beautiful back to yours- “-that stands between her and you.” No words came from the other side except for the tap of a finger on the frame before Loki got inside the van and came to sit next to you. Tivan’s guards were already putting the vehicle in full throttle to fly towards your ship while Loki waited for you to say something. But you were stubborn in your own way, not letting out a peep but turning to watch where exactly Loki is sitting. “Lulu,” he stressed with a note of caution when he did not let Javier secure him in his seat, leading to the fur-boy slump in his seat and sulk till Javier presented him with candy. At the same time, you scooched closer to Loki- still not facing him- and let your fingers feel his overcoat in them. Your eyes still carried the remnants of the tears along with a hidden hurt that you did not want to show anyone. But the high definition cameras everywhere were quick to catch it all; even the slight break of your heartstrings when you felt the fabric of comfort in your fingers move away. It also captured the shock that followed when you felt his arm come and rest behind your neck to prevent the discomfort of the metal rails on the back of your head on this bumpy ride, giving you full access to take the support of his shoulder and arms in that moment. You didn’t even realise when the waterworks came again. “What,” Loki looked at you expressionless, “I’m just resting my arm.” You blinked and took in the snot rising up in your nose. “I’m still allergic to you,” you muttered while resting your head on his shoulder. A smile born for two seconds was seen by no one except the camera.

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Thrill Me, Chill Me, Fulfill Me

Sir Pentious a.k.a. Telly (@usedhearts​) finishes shedding and goes to show Alastor, who’s been hanging out at his place the last week and a half fretting over him helping him out. Stuff that happens:

💕 MUTUAL CONFESSIONS 💕

Telly’s shed has given him some interesting new mutations! 🐟 

Alastor makes a deal with his own soul on the line! 🔥 

Things Which Are Unsafe For Work 🍆🍆

❤️❤️❤️ AND MORE! ❤️❤️❤️

Look I pulled out the emoji and everything, that’s how exciting this is.

(For y’all that want to keep up with the plot but don’t want to read lewds, I’ll mark where it begins and ends in the chat.)

Sir Pentious

The steam in the room was finally being released, dissipating the fog as the air began to circulate again. Telly felt refreshed, and much, much better, now that all that was over with. He smiled as he grabbed his phone, shooting a text to Alastor.

🎩 I'LL BE OUT MOMENTARILY! IT'S FINALLY ALL DONE!

And then he called the Eggs in to take care of the skin that lay across the floor.

Alastor

And Alastor was a mere room away from the bathroom-turned-sauna, flopped back on Sir Pentious’s bed, waiting—*just in case,* see. The other Sir Pentious had had a hard time with the last day of his shed, Alastor had wanted to be on hand in case this one was struggling too. To sing, to distract, to massage, to hold hands, to offer a few shadows to carefully slide off the shed... Whatever he was needed for.

But so far it hadn’t been necessary, so he’d mainly ended up singing to himself, rewriting a song that Valera had started on during the aforementioned prior shed: “*I’ll peel you, banana... I’ll peel you... I thought that you’d overripened, and I’d make a bread out of you; now my mouth and eyes are opened, banana... I’ll eat you, banana—*“

Alastor sits bolt upright. That’s his phone! He can feel the signal of the incoming text crackle against his hip. He pulls it out, reads the message, and rather than returning the text yells into the sauna, “I’m right where you left me! Need me to grab anything?” Probably not, but maybe Telly needed a fresh change of clothes or something. Alastor had gotten used to grabbing odds and ends for Telly this week.

Sir Pentious

He's moved on to the other area of the bathroom now-- what he liked to call the 'false lead' as there were no baths in here! Just the toilet and the sink and the mirror. Which he was now staring in, his arm held up as he looked at the three lines in his side. Those were new. Edged with black against the yellow, they stood out. He ran a finger over them and gave a soft gasp at the sensitivity. Like touching his fingers to his lips, these new....things were much more sensitive than the rest of him.

Telly lifted his other arm and sure enough, there was a matching pair on the other side-- and that's when it clicked. These were gills. He had _gills_ now. Well. That was something.

He finally broke out of his trance to respond to Alastor. "No! No need, I'll be right there." He slithered quickly toward the door and almost threw it open, beaming at Alastor.

"Ta-da?" He offered, suddenly feeling a bit self conscious, his smile turning a bit shy.

Alastor

He stuffed his phone away before a handful of eggs could toddle by and spot it, and then all but forgot the eggs when Telly himself emerged. “And here’s the top banana himself!” Alastor telling jokes that only he’s gonna get, he’s a riot.

And he immediately regretted the comment, because “banana” did not come close to adequately describing the appearance of Sir Pentious immediately after a shed, scales all shiny and new, colors vivid and bright. He’d thought Telly had looked lovely a couple of weeks ago, with sparkling copper and iridescent green polish painting his scales; it didn’t come close to how he looked now, at his most naturally brilliant. Alastor could only stare a moment; before he managed to choke out, “... And, like a banana, you’re looking very a-peel-ing.” No, Alastor, bad, flirting did *not* make it better.

Sir Pentious

Telly momentarily got distracted by the Eggs as well, watching them toddle into the bathroom to collect the skin. But then his attention was drawn back by Alastor and just how....struck he was. Not speechless, of course, Telly hardly thought anything could strike the Radio Demon speechless, but struck all the same. A small bubble of pride inflated in his chest.

"Yessss, look at thisss!!" He slithered more fully into the room, stretching out his tail behind him. "I think I got a few extra inchesss now! Come here, Alassstor, come feel-- I'm ssso sssmooth now, too!" His excitement was in full force now and he gestured for him to come over.

And as he did, the Eggs reappeared with the skin hoisted over their heads. Look at that skin, that's a nice, nearly whole skin. And there they go, toting it out the door.

Alastor

Feel? *Feel?* He was being invited to *touch* immediately after a shed? He sure hadn’t gotten that honor when his *other* snake friend had shed, and for a moment his immediate wariness—*What’s the catch? Is this a trap? Will Telly be watching Alastor’s reaction?*—was enough to balance out his yearning to do *exactly* what Telly had asked for him to do.

Which let him get distracted by the eggs passing. He watched them go by, with *another* snakeskin he’d love to get his hands on but definitely was afraid to touch. If the eggs were just throwing it out, they’d probably have crumpled it up, wouldn’t they? “What in the world are they doing with that?” Look, a diversion!

Sir Pentious

He looked at the Eggs, tilting his head. "Probably going to dry it and then do....whatever it is they do with them! I don't know and I have never thought to ask. The Egg Bois, you know, they're..." He put his hand at the side of his mouth to stage whisper. "_Weird._"

Telly shrugged, and then reached out his hand again. "Anyway, come here!! Come here, Alastor, feel my ssscalessss!!"

Alastor

Dry it! Alastor’s grin widened with glee as he started playing a crackly song—“*Tan me hide when I’m dead, Fred, tan me hide when I’m dead; so we tanned his hide when he died, Clyde, and that’s it hanging in the shed.*”

Alastor remained convinced that he was, in fact, the funniest person in Hell.

And he was also stalling. He needed to talk to Telly about *them*—as in the *two of them*, and the wildly confusing signals that Telly was sending (THIS ONE already quite solidly ranked among them!), and he’d told himself he’d do it after Telly’s shed was over and he was feeling better, but how do you say “stop everything, I can’t feel you up until we talk about our relationship status to make sure that we’re in agreement on the exact implications of said groping”? You don’t say that. Nobody says that. Every love story Alastor had ever heard, seen, or read had both parties just blunder along until a *moment* presented itself when it had to be said, and those moments didn’t happen by interrupting different moments—

And while Alastor mused on the intricacies of confessing attraction as modeled by Hollywood, he’d run out of goofy music to play and been staring for a bit longer than he should have. “Are you sure? Isn’t it, you know, *tender* right after shedding?” Maybe that was tarantulas.

Sir Pentious

Telly laughed at the song, a hissing giggle, his tongue sticking out between his teeth. His head tilted as he waited for Alastor to speak, or move-- but he just stared. Was this weird? Had he made it weird? Oh, god, he'd made it weird, hadn't he? He was about to speak again when Alastor finally spoke.

"Oh! No, it'sss not. The scales are quite firm." He snickered, and then slithered over to his nightstand. He dug around in it, finding the bottle of scale lotion and slithered back, this time closer to Alastor. "If it helps, I could give you a job? I need to put on lotion to help make sure I stay nice and shiny as long as possible." He smirked and hummed.

Alastor

Alastor watched far more closely than he should have as Telly slithered across the floor—oh God, were those gashes on the side? Alastor had noticed that some of Telly’s deepest wounds hadn’t healed completely with the shed, but he hadn’t noticed the gashes on the side—no, wait, those didn’t look like gashes—were those *gills?* “Do you have *gills?*” Look, another diversion!

Because he was *not* ready to answer a request to lotion up Telly’s body.

Sir Pentious

"What?" He blinked and then grinned, nodding. "Oh! Yes! I _think_ they are, they certainly look it!" He lifted an arm to let Alastor get a better look. "I suppose my body decided I needed them? I don't know, but I'm certainly not going to look _this_ gift horse in the mouth!"

He laughed and lowered his arm. Telly took Alastor's hand and placed it on the back of his arm. "Feel my sssscalesss, already!"

Alastor

“All right, all right.” That was as much procrastinating as Alastor could manage. He was going to touch *extremely lightly*—and oh even with his gloves on he could tell, yes, Telly’s scales *were* smooth, and it was a fight not to touch *more.* No, that was crossing a line.

Sir Pentious

"Feel some of the bigger onessss," He said, guiding his hands again to his hip area. "The big ones feel like a smooth river stone to me. Makes me think of what a dragon woud've felt like, were they real."

He hissed a soft laugh and purred.

Alastor

“Right,” Alastor murmured, hardly registering the comparison—dragons, rivers, yes. He’d felt a jolt shoot up his chest at the feel of Telly’s hands on his hands and Telly’s scales sliding beneath his fingertips, and now all he could think about was the shape of his hips and how Alastor wanted to trace them, wanted to satisfy a half-century-old yearning to learn where the skeleton beneath the snakeskin shifted from human to serpent, wanted—

He pulled his hands back. “Yes, I see what you mean! An astute comparison.” He laughed uncomfortably.

Sir Pentious

Oh. That laugh, he could practically smell the discomfort radiating off of Alastor. Oh, he made it weird again, didn't he. He moved back a little and then spread himself out on the floor, popping open the lotion bottle to start getting some on his hands.

"Did you want to help me with this?" He asked, his voice a bit smaller.

Alastor

Oh, and now Telly was uncomfortable, Alastor made it weird.

They should stop and talk. Alastor had overthought every interaction to the point that he no longer had any idea where he stood with Telly, and if Telly knew where he stood with Alastor he was doing a damn good job of not admitting it, and there was the whole girlfriend deal, and neither of the prior Sir Pentiouses Alastor had known had ever asked him to *lotion their scales* but was that a personality difference between this Sir Pentious and the others or was it a difference in how much he *wanted* out of Alastor, and—

—and right now, Telly’s voice sounded like it ought to be coming out of an anthopomorphic cartoon flower wilting beneath a vicious blizzard, and Alastor couldn’t stand it. He had to fix that first. Not *because* the sight of Telly stretched out so tantalizing across the floor filled Alastor with an *itch* to touch, but *in spite of* it.

Alastor knelt next to Telly, forcing his usual energetic cheer back into his voice. “Of course! I promised I’d help you through this shed start to finish, didn’t I?”

Sir Pentious

The cheer brought his smile back a little, and he offered the bottle of lotion to him. "The sooner I put it on the longer my post-shed glow will last," He said, with a soft chuckle.

"You'll be able to see a sparkly serpent for longer." Another laugh and he started rubbing what he had on his hands onto his arms. Ooooh nice and cool, felt good after being in that sauna for a day.

Alastor

Well, preserving the sparkly serpent was selfless enough, wasn’t it? The fact that Alastor would enjoy the sight didn’t change the fact that Telly would benefit from it. He scooted to sit behind Telly, squeezed some lotion into a hand, rubbed his hands together as he told himself to Not Make This Weird, *Please,* and then started where he figured it would be hardest for Telly to reach by himself—between his shoulder blades.

Sir Pentious

He shivered at the touch, but smiled, and purred. Oh, that felt nice. He continued to rub in what he had onto his arms, and his eyes (on his face) closed a moment, just enjoying the feeling of Alastor's hands on his back. Telly made a soft noise of contentment, letting his head droop forward a bit as he moved his hoot out of Alastor's way.

Alastor

Sure. This was easy. Alastor could do this. And then after this they could discuss—they *really* should have discussed this before—but there had never been a moment when he could. Just do this without doing anything out of line.

His hands slid down Telly’s back, running over the ridge of each vertebra and rib. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen Telly totally naked, but *oh* was it a rush to just revel in him like this. Like painting on the polish had been, but far more so.

Sir Pentious

His eyes are closed and his breath is catching with every little traced of bone. He could feel his heart beating so much faster already and he wondered if Alastor could hear it-- it was so quiet, after all. Had he struck Alastor speechless, now? He didn't know, but his mind was on other things, like the feeling of his hands against his back. A purring rumble cascaded through his chest, a very pleased snake, yes, that was what he was.

Alastor

Alastor had stopped breathing entirely as he listened to each little change in Telly’s breath, ears twitching at every change. The rumble made his hands tingle from fingertips to wrist and ears tingle from tip to base and down the back of his scalp. Oh, if Alastor could get Telly to make that sound every day... His hands worked down to the small of Telly’s back, where they separated and started to creep around his waist, seeking out again the spot Telly had shown Alastor earlier, eager to grip him tight and pull him closer—

*No.* Alastor vanished, a shadow ghosting across the floor, to rematerialize sitting on the far side of Telly’s bed, faced away. “I—sorry.” His voice was far too weak for his tastes.

Sir Pentious

He was reveling in this, soaking in every touch like a sponge to water-- and then the touch was gone, and his eyes flashed open, blinking rapidly at the sudden absence. It made him feel cold.

His head turned to see Alastor all the way across the room and he frowned. Telly slithered over to him slowly, circling around to get in front of him. His head tilted and he moved with even more exaggerated slowness to take Alastor's hands.

"Sorry for what, Alastor?" He asked, holding his hands reverently.

Alastor

Ohhh they were having the conversation *now.* Okay. It wasn’t exactly Hollywood, but what ever was? He reflexively squeezed Telly’s hands, then had to let his grip go slack again.

Voice strained, eyes shut, head tilted back like he was hoping God might take pity just once on a poor damned sinner and telegraph some divine inspiration straight into his brain, he said, “You should know—that—doing this, it... means *quite* a bit more to me than I think you realize. Possibly *far* more than it does to you, but I, uh...” He let out a choked wheeze of a laugh. “I’m having a hard time figuring that out, actually.” Somebody smite him, please.

Sir Pentious

Oh. Oh! _Oh._ Things were starting to click in that brilliant, dumb brain of his, the wheels were definitely turning-- and stalling and catching fire and he was pretty sure smoke was going to start pouring out of his head.

Alastor liked him. Alastor _like liked_ him. More than friends, liked him. His heart began to swell as his brain rapidly repaired the wheels to think of what he should say here. What _should_ he say here? How did you tell someone you liked them, as more than a friend? God, he was awkward.

But Alastor didn't know that _he_ liked him! How was that possible? He thought he'd been....pretty blatant about it. But whatever, that didn't matter. What mattered was this....

"Alastor," He said, releasing one of his hands to cup his cheek, to make Alastor look at him. "I like you. More than would have been proper in my day and age or yours. I've, ah, I've liked you for some time now, but I wasn't sure if _you_ liked _me_ in that way and I--" His jaw snapped shut. Shut up, stupid, don't ramble.

"I have feelings for you, Alastor. Romantic feelings."

Alastor

And what do we find hidden at the bottom of Pandora’s box but small bright little hope! Alastor’s heart let out a single heavy booming *thud,* like a timpanist waiting for his cue had gotten startled and dropped his mallet. His eyes flew open and he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for half a century. Breathless, he whispered, “*Do* you?” That couldn’t be true. That couldn’t.

But by God if Alastor wasn’t good at playing his assigned role in absurd situations, then what *was* he good at? His throat and lips worked for a moment, but he couldn’t say the words back—so instead, he simply... lifted one of Telly’s hands. And kissed the knuckles—a knight swearing fealty to a king. And turned Telly’s hand over to kiss the palm. This couldn’t be real; this was going to end any second. He tried to press his whole face into Telly’s hand.

(Everything tasted like snakeskin lotion.)

Sir Pentious

He'd been about to do that! You beat him to the punch, Alastor. But he smiled, and decided, fuck it, he was going to do it anyway. Telly lifted Alastor's hand and repeated the motions. A kiss to the knuckles and then to the palm. He held it against his cheek after that, and leaned in, giving a little blelele against his cheek.

He felt so light, so relieved, like someone had attached balloons all over him and he was floating.

Alastor

Alastor took the tongue flicking at his cheek as an invitation to return a proper kiss; and so he did. As close to silent as Telly had probably ever heard a Radio Demon—all his white noise trapped in his lungs, no sound but the rare stray distant unintelligible whisper of Alastor’s invisible audience. The kiss was light and tentative, as if he still suspected he might have misinterpreted the words “I have romantic feelings for you.” (He did, in fact, suspect exactly that.)

Sir Pentious

His arm wrapped around Alastor's waist, drawing him closer as he returned the kiss. It was soft and slow, as tentative as Alastor started it, but he certainly was returning it. And then his tongue made another appearance, flicking against Alastor's teeth-- oh, really, right now? Don't worry about that Alastor, it had a mind of its own sometimes.

Alastor

And the kiss was *returned.* White fireworks went off just behind Alastor’s eyes and he laughed, as much from the sensation of a forked tongue flicking at his lips as from relief and from half-hysterical disbelief. He broke the kiss to embrace Telly, bury his face in the crook of Telly’s neck, and murmur, “*Really?*” His voice was a small, muffled thing in the dead silence.

Sir Pentious

Telly's other arm wrapped around him and pulled him up off the bed. No more sitting for you, Alastor! Fully embraced in the snake's arms is how it's going to be now. Telly squeezed him, nuzzling back, and giving a flick of his tongue against Alastor's neck. "_Yes, really._"

Alastor

And up he’s pulled! Enjoy the sound effect of... a startled elephant? A man sneezing into a trumpet? The one lone sound effect was almost out of place in the dead silence.

He tugged off his gloves with trembling hands and pressed his fingertips to Telly’s back again, chasing some half-developed whim to attempt to keep rubbing in the lotion but really just retracing the scales and bones he’d explored earlier, this time without a thin layer of deerskin dulling the sensation. And he kissed, slowly, almost experimentally, along Telly’s collar bone.

Sir Pentious

Oh, the gloveless hands, he's honored. And purring. And reveling in the kisses. This was really happening. It was really happening, Alastor was _kissing him_ and it was better than he'd dreamed it. His arms squeezed him again, and his tail began to coil around his legs. Sorry, Alastor, you belong to the snake now.

Alastor

“I’ve never liked the touch of someone else’s skin. I hate how other people feel—the hair and sweat and oils of human flesh, pores and nipples and bellybuttons...” His voice was almost silent, but it was also entirely human, all distortion gone. He whispered fervently, like this confession was something else that had been trapped in him half a century, waiting for that long exhale before it could come out. “But scales...” Another kiss. “I’ve always thought snakeskin is so smooth and cool and—*perfect.* And even more beautiful now when it’s all new.”

Sir Pentious

Telly's breath hitched at the kiss, and the words. Oh, he was glad that he couldn't blush. He did purr instead, though, and his claws kneaded at Alastor's sides. "You think I'm beautiful?" He asked, his voice soft. "I--" He paused and smiled, letting his tongue flick against his cheek again.

"I love your voice. Being able to hear it all this week, while I couldn't see anything...It was the best thing to hear. You helped keep me grounded, with every word and every song." He leaned in to press a kiss against his clothed neck. "And red is one of my favorite colors."

Alastor

And now Alastor’s breath hitched. *Grounded*? He’d done that? With the rarefied airs he put on, he’d helped keep Telly firmly tethered to the world around him?

When was the last time his voice had helped anybody feel *connected*?

This was real. All of this was really happening. Alastor felt a lump forming in his throat, and he fought through it the best way he knew how: by talking. “You’re beautiful beyond words. Always. When you’re fresh from a swim, scales still *glistening* with with beads of water—or painted up like a temporary work of art—or practically glowing with vivid new colors...” He started slowly kissing up Telly’s neck every few words. “Haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘curves in all the right places’—“ Kiss. “—you’re nothing but curves.” He delivered the punchline with a hiss of his usual static and a polite chortle from his studio audience. He was still absolutely terrified—but if he could make jokes, he’d work through it. “Curves covered in gold and onyx and rubies...” Kiss. And then, awkwardly, haltingly, he said, “...I don’t think anyone’s ever said something nice about my color palette before.” It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but it was what he could get out.

Sir Pentious

Every kiss brings another hitch of his breath, and his eyes slide shut as he listened to Alastor talk. His claws still kneaded against him, and his purring turned up a notch. His tail squeezed Alastor's legs and he laughed softly.

"I like it. Despite everything around us being red most of the time, you make it work for you. It makes you stand out and blend in at the same time. And anywhere that's not swathed in red already, you pop. When I could still barely see, the red and your voice where how I knew where you were." He laughed again. "And if I have curves all over, I suppose that I only _have_ right places to have curves, hm?"

His eyes opened and he looked at Alastor, smiling. "You're handsome, fun, exhilarating...I could go on and on."

Alastor

Hah, of course, this airship was probably the only place in Hell where a pure red getup *would* stand out. “Exhilarating?” He laughed half breathlessly. “You want to talk about exhilarating, talk about—talk about the man who’s conquering Hell! Good God! You don’t get more exhilarating than a laser the size of a Cadillac!” He pulled back suddenly—not far, just enough to make eye contact, to hold Telly’s face in his hands. “Tell me if I’m being too forward, but—I want to see it. Everything Poseidon said to Amphitrite—I meant every word. I want you to raise Hell and raze Heaven—I want you to dethrone the infernal and the celestial with nothing but the mechanical—I want hubris to win. And I want to be there with you. I want to be your personal broadcaster, your royal jester and royal executioner, your herald. I want to eat God’s flesh off of the same plate as you.”

Sir Pentious

Oh, he's nearly panting at that, eyes wide and locked on Alastor's. Every word seeped into his brain and down through his spine to his lungs and his gut. And something unknotted down there, and released, and the doubt that constantly niggled in the back of his brain fell quiet. And was replaced by Alastor's voice, Alastor's encouragement, Alastor's partnership-- Alastor's.....

He surged forward and kissed him, hard, once, twice. His tail coiled up further around him and his hands held Alastor's face. "I meant it all too. Everything I said then, in that moment. I want you with me, every step. I want you by my side. I want your laughing lips on mine as I tear down the Kings and Princes. I want to tear out God's heart and present it to you on a silver platter." And he kissed him again, breathless.

He chuckled softly after and stroked Alastor's cheek with his thumb. "Now, tell me if I'm being too forward, but for someone without ambition, you're being very ambitious with me." He slyly smirked and winked. And then another kiss.

Alastor

His heart fluttered and his eyes slid shut as all his conscious awareness rushed out of the rest of his body and to his mouth, and for a moment that was all that existed, two sets of lips and fangs and the promise of a universe caught in between them.

When Sir Pentious accused him of having actual ambitions, he only managed to get out “Well, I—“ before being pulled into another kiss. During a brief pause for breath, he hissed, “Didn’t I say Poseidon’s only an unfinished demigod without Amphitrite?”

And then he dove back in. He hummed into the kiss, a near-century-old love song caught in the back of his throat, ghostly voices singing as an invisible record skipped and repeated—“*When I’m calling you, will you answer too?—You’ll belong to me, I’ll belong to you—You’ll belong to me, I’ll belong to you—*”

Sir Pentious

There's nothing now but this. This kiss. What a rush it was, kissing him. Telly's hand slid back and his claws tangled into his hair, threading through and scratching at his scalp. Slowly, his body started to move, lowering them back and down, onto the floor, Alastor on top. He didn't want to stop this kiss for anything, never again wanted his lips separated from the Radio Demon's. His tongue flicked into Alastor's mouth, teasing and quick, before he pulled back at last, panting for breath.

"Kissing you....feels very....mm....very right," He said, as he tried his best to gulp down air. Telly held Alastor against him and purred.

Alastor

The tongue flick turned Alastor’s hum into a sound that was half static hiss, half longing groan. He tried to catch the Telly’s tongue between his lips when he drew back.

Alastor shut his eyes, pressing their foreheads together. When did Alastor end up laying on top of Telly? Did Alastor push him down? “It does.” Those claws running through his hair sent a wave of shivering tingles across his scalp, down his neck, halfway down his back. He held himself up with one arm, and with the other traced his hand down Telly’s side, careful around the new gills. “I’ve missed—“ *He missed having this with Sir Pentious, the scheming, the intimacy, the ability to hope for a future.* The words caught in his throat. None of what he missed was with *this* Sir Pentious. This Sir Pentious didn’t know anything about the first one—only that he’d succeeded in life and that Alastor believed in him.

Alastor’s heart sank. Telly needed to know so much more than that. “I need to—I have to say something.”

Sir Pentious

The hand down his side sends more sparks down his spine than it would've used too-- and when Alastor's hands pass over the gills, there's a deeper gasp, and then a low groan. Just how sensitive are those? He'd have to do some tests to figure out...

He refocuses on Alastor, blinking as his brain catches up with the words he's saying. "Oh? All right. Then please, say it."

Alastor

“I’m getting déjà vu.” He tried to take in a deep breath; it was shorter and sharper than he would have liked. “I... tried this before, with another version of you. Not our mutual acquaintance, long before that. It went wrong.” He let out a very small, but very terrified laugh, talking faster, trying to finish his confession before Telly could start drawing conclusions. “We didn’t get much past this when I ruined everything. I won’t again, I won’t, I promise. But...”

Sir Pentious

Things sort of click when Alastor says that and Telly gives a little gasp and a little 'Oh.' He's quiet a moment and he takes a few breaths, before sliding his hand back to hold Alastor's cheek. The gesture is tender, and his thumb strokes over his cheek.

"It wasss your Pentious, yes? The one you told me about, from your universssse? The one who ssssucceeded?" He nodded and gave a hum. "May...May I asssk how? How did you ruin it?"

There's no accusation in his voice, just curiosity, but his hand stays on his cheek, his tail still wrapped around his legs. Everything about Telly was gentle here, in this moment. He didn't want to ruin this either.

Alastor

He owed Sir Pentious this—*some* Sir Pentious somewhere. Someone had to hear his confession, hear him acknowledge his sins. “We got—this far. I spent the night. But I panicked before morning. I’ve never—I’d never wanted somebody before. I didn’t want to become the kind of person who—*wants.* So I... left.” He took a deep, shaky breath, pressing his face into Telly’s hand. “And I... You can be a stubborn, determined man, Sir Pentious. If I wanted to get away, I had to—I *thought* I make sure he wouldn’t want to try to bring me back.” Disembodied sound clips play around Alastor—the distant, dull sounds of multiple explosions; an out-of-context news broadcast: “And it's crashing!—It's burning and bursting into flames—and the frame is crashing to the ground—Oh, the humanity—“ and then a far more familiar voice, choked with rage and disbelief and hurt: “No. We fought ssside by side. You hhelped me—"

The clips are all cut off with a whine of feedback. He didn’t mean to share that last one. He didn’t mean to share *most* of those sounds, the reinterpreted broadcast should have been enough—but some self-destructive part of him had to go too far with it. Sir Pentious who had died in an airship crash so traumatic he couldn’t even put on mascara without remembering spending his last moments blinded—and Alastor who had taken Sir Pentious’s love and trust and in return brought down his airships. How could this one forgive him for his crimes against the other one? “I’m—sorry.” It wasn’t enough.

Sir Pentious

His face falls and his heart breaks-- for both of them. For Alastor's panic induced destruction, and for the other....the other him that was hurt by it. His touch is still gentle, though, thumb stroking Alastor's cheek. Telly's breath hitches a little, and one small tear escaped the corner of his eye-- a tear shed for what Alastor had done, for what Sir Pentious had lost. His hand slides back to the back of his neck again, and brings his head in to press their foreheads together. And then he swallows the lump congealing in his throat to speak.

"It's okay. I....I understand. That panic, that feeling of needing to push someone away. I understand it. I'm sorry it happened, to both of you. I'm sorry that you hurt him, and yourself." He takes another breath, and his arm winds around Alastor's waist, pressing him closer than before.

"I want this. I want us. But there is something I need from you before we go further with this. I need you to promise me, to _swear_ to me there won't be a repeat performance. I--" He feels the tears then, bubbling up in all his eyes. "I don't think I would be able to take the heartbreak, Alastor. If you were to betray me like that, after we begin this, after everything you've done for me, it would be too much. So, please, promise me you won't do that again. Not with me."

A little hiccup and he used a hand to wipe at his eyes. "I want to give you my heart, but I'm not going to hand it over if there's a chance you could turn around and crush it. I need you to swear to me, that we won't end up like that."

Alastor

And there, Telly’s starting to cry already—Alastor’s ruined it. Fifty-four years ago he ruined this before it ever had a chance. His smile starts to wilt, corners threatening to turn down. If Alastor had to break Sir Pentious’s heart again, this was the most responsible way to break it, wasn’t it?

But then Telly starts to speak. And Alastor can’t believe his ears.

Just like that? That’s all it took? Telly *understands?* No, that can’t be. There aren’t second chances in Hell. But— “I—I promise. I promise. I promise.” He slides an arm under Telly’s shoulders, clutching him tight, eyes squeezed shut and face pressed against Telly’s shoulder. Please, let Alastor have this! “I’ll shake on it if you want—my soul and every soul I own if I ever betray you!” There’s only the slightest tremble to his voice, professional that he is—but hot tears are trapped between his cheeks and Telly’s scales.

Sir Pentious

Alastor's crying. Alastor's _crying_ against him and that's all he can focus on for a moment, until he processes the worlds. Then there's a gasp from Telly at that-- all the souls and Alastor's own? Just hearing that fills him with a confidence in this, in them, but there's still that fear. He hates to actually ask for it......

"Will you? Shake on it? Make a deal and make it binding?" His hand is on the back of his head, petting at his hair, and he hiccuped a little, his own tears running free. "I don't-- I don't want to force you into sssomething like that, but....and I'm ssssorry I don't have more trussst in you, but I-- I'm-- My mind, my anxiety, it will alwayssss be whissspering if we don't, I think." He sits up slowly, prying their bodies apart just enough to get his hand between them, offering it in a shake.

"You swear to never betray me like you did the Sir Pentious of your own universe, to not destroy this relationship and my heart, or you forfeit your soul and all those you have to me?"

Alastor

“I *never* want you to worry about trusting me. If this takes that fear away—yes.” Because Alastor is risking nothing. He *knows* he’ll never do that again. He knows he *couldn’t*, even if he wanted to. If it gives Telly something and costs Alastor nothing—well, Alastor is a dealmaker, and that’s a good deal.

He listens carefully to Telly’s terms. They go beyond what Alastor said, with the sort of ambiguous wording that devils and dealmakers could use to run in circles around a victim. Alastor knows Telly doesn’t mean them that way; but he’s not leaving any open loopholes that might see him, for example, trapped in some nightmare marriage a thousand years from now because some judge ruled that Alastor couldn’t file for divorce without “destroying this relationship.” He might have been raised Catholic, but he happens to think divorce is a pretty good option to keep on the table.

He chooses his words carefully. “I... can’t swear that I’ll never end this relationship or never break your heart. As much as I want to vow that—maybe in a hundred years we’ll decide we’re incompatible, or maybe I’ll break your heart through some unforgivable, unpredictable accident—and I won’t risk my soul on things I can’t prevent.”

He pushes himself up again, cheeks still wet, and slides his hand into the scant inches between their chests. “But I swear I will never knowingly and deliberately or callously break your heart; and I swear that if I do ever leave, I’ll leave with kindness and honesty; and I swear I’ll never betray you like I did the Sir Pentious of my universe; or I forfeit my soul and all those I have to you.”

And if that’s good enough for Telly—not a promise to control the uncontrollable but at least a promise to control his own actions—then here’s Alastor’s hand, glowing green, ready to be taken.

Sir Pentious

He listened to Alastor's words, his tears drying on his cheeks. Yes, that made sense. He wouldn't want to be stuck in a relationship with no out if he were in Alastor's shoes, and things did change. But he nodded, face serious.

"I can accept those terms. I'll accept them happily. For you and for us." He smiled softly.

And then Telly took his hand and shook it. He didn't release it, instead using it to pull Alastor back in for a kiss. It's harder than before, but in a happy way, and the hand that's not still clasped in Alastor's tangled into his hair to hold him.

Alastor

He pressed into the kiss immediately, the tips of his fangs and tongue immediately teasing at Telly’s lips—*let me in, please*—as he felt the magic behind the contract shooting up his arm and pooling in his chest, pounding in his heart, hot and electric.

Of all the things he anticipated, he didn’t expect the bargain to make HIM feel safe. But it did. He could be sure he’d never lose his nerve and betray Telly. He *couldn’t* betray him. He felt lighter.

Sir Pentious

Telly's mouth opens to him, and his tongue flicks out to play against Alastor's. Then back it goes to let him smell, and then back out-- like it has a mind of its own. He lays back again, taking Alastor with him, and he finally releases Alastor's hand to instead grip at his jacket.

He pulls back after letting the kiss linger against his lips. "How-- Ah, how far do you--" God, he couldn't even get that question out and he nips at Alastor's lip instead. "I need to know....where I should....stop....with this...."

Alastor

It’s hard to leave that kiss behind, but he lifts himself just enough to let his brain sort itself out. How far—? It’s hard to think about; he still has tears dripping off his cheeks and onto Telly’s. He’s still reveling in this sense of *security.* But the fact that Telly asks makes his heart flutter. Give him a second to try to remember where the Venn diagram circle of what he wants ends and what other people tend to want starts. “Let—let me keep my underwear on. Everything outside that is...”

Good enough, he’s back in the kiss. He wants those fangs on his lip again.

Sir Pentious

He lets Alastor kiss him again, and does give him a few more nips, but then another thought presents itself and he's pulling away again to speak.

"I-- Ah, you should know that my-- my anatomy is-- it's the same as a snake's in, ah, below the belt regards. I have--" He looks away and his hand rubs the back of his neck and then over his face. God, this is embarrassing, but it's something he should say.

"I don't know how comfortable you are with other people's....anatomy. In that way. Please tell me if anything makes you....uncomfortable? I don't want that for you....I want whatever we do to be good for us both."

Alastor

“—two? Were you going to say two?” Because if he was, then Alastor really is gonna have a case of déjà vu—and he’s trying not to start laughing.

He pushes himself up again. “I’ve never wanted to get that close to anybody *else’s* anatomy before. But I want to see every last inch of you.” His smile turns self-conscious after that. “And... we’ll figure out what I’m inclined to do with it from there. Sound fair?”

❤️📻🐍❤️ The Naughty Bits START HERE! ❤️📻🐍❤️

Sir Pentious

Telly laughs, covering his face with a hand again. "Yes. Yes, I was. I take it you're familiar, then?"

He moves the hand and then nods, very seriously, before giggling again. "Yes. That sounds good. But do you know the first place I want you to explore?" His smile turned downright sultry as he took Alastor's hand and lead it back to the gills on the side of his chest.

"Why not start somewhere new for both of us?"

Alastor

Oh, Alastor could listen to that laugh forever. Every single one of Sir Pentious’s laughs, from the self-conscious giggle to the maniacal cackle. "It's come up once before! Under similar circumstances, in fact! Although we were never properly introduced—I'm still only familiar with the twins by reputation." He thinks he's hilarious.

Alastor blinks in surprise as Telly moves Alastor's hand to his gills. "Really? It doesn't feel like I'm trying to stick a finger up your nostril?" He experimentally runs one finger along the outer ridge of a gill.

Sir Pentious

"No--" The rest of his sentence is cut off by a moan and then a full body shiver-- and that's a lot of body for him! How sensitive those gills seem to be, and quite the erogenous zone.

"That-- Um, ah, the gentle touch feels....I can't quite describe it, but it's....very good. I think the closest is probably when you, when you touch something to your lips? But more..." He laughed again, breathless. "And well, you will get to see them tonight, especially if you keep touching me like that..."

Alastor

Oh, Alastor feels that moan in his very bones. He’s not used to that—most sexual noises are the auditory equivalent of someone chewing up their food and then carefully spitting it in his ear. But from Sir Pentious, it’s... well, it’s still pretty goofy-sounding, sure—but it’s a sound *Alastor* elicited on purpose. It’s the positive result of Alastor trying to make Telly feel good. And *that*... He thinks he likes that.

The shiver is like sitting atop a mechanical bull as it powers up, right before it starts bucking. Alastor pauses just a moment to absorb the new sensation, and then continues, tracing lightly along the gills with two fingers, then three. "That sounds like a fine plan to me! Especially if it gets another noise like that out of you."

Alastor focuses on Telly's face and chest as he continues, watching every change in his expression, every twitch of his muscles. And listens intently to every single sound out of him.

Sir Pentious

With each stroke, there's another shiver, another moan, and one of Telly's hands briefly scrambled for something to hold before landing on the tail of Alastor's jack. He scrunches up the material and takes a breath. His brain can hardly keep up with the sparks it sends through his body, he feels punchdrunk from the sensation, hardly registering Alastor's words.

"T-That is something. W-Who knew gills would be so sensitive?" He chuckled. "You're going to get so much out of me tonight, Alastor. Everything you want to pull free from me, I'll give willingly."

Alastor

“Here you are offering to sing opera for me”—a few seconds of Christine Daae’s wailing at the end of the “Phantom of the Opera” theme—“and me without my recording equipment!” Alastor sighs woefully, to laughs from the studio audience. "Who knew! Gills aren’t the place *I'd* choose for an erogenous zone. But then, I wouldn't have merged the entertainment center with the sewage system, either." More studio laughter and a flushing toilet sound effect. Can you tell this man has never done dirty talk in his life. Can you tell it has not occurred to him that he SHOULD be trying dirty talk right now. "It still feels like I'm threatening to stick a finger up your nose."

For a brief moment he wonders what it WOULD be like to try to dig up into Telly’s gills. It wouldn't be hard, he thinks, to reach his ribs. To taste Telly’s blood and lungs. To hold his heart in Alastor's hands...

That, he decides, is a fantasy he probably ought to keep to himself. But when he bends in for another kiss, there's a little more fang behind it.

Sir Pentious

Telly can't help but snort, and roll his eyes (all of them) at the commentary. It seems like Alastor's back in form-- not even emotional confessions and desperate make outs could keep a good radio host down. He kisses back, though, and Telly finally starts in on Alastor's clothes. Jacket unbuttoned, he starts tugging the shirt out from where it's tucked in and then reaching up to remove the bowtie.

"You know," He says when their kiss breaks again. "You really are incorrigible. You have me at your mercy, nude and writhing, and you're making toilet jokes." There's fondness in his voice though, and he laughs. He removes the covering on Alastor's neck and then immediately is attacking it with kisses.

Alastor

"I've got to keep you laughing somehow, don't I?" What kind of a radio host would he be if he couldn't switch stations at a moment's notice? Just don't ask what the other stations are broadcasting right now. There’s a fair amount of emotional turmoil still brewing beneath the surface.

As Telly moves in on Alastor’s neck, he says, "Careful, I've got—ah." The bandage on his shoulder just past the crook of his neck—an unhealed bite wound made by another Sir Pentious in anger. Never mind, it can wait, his undershirt covers the bandage. He awkwardly shrugs off his jacket and starts unbuttoning his shirt, exposing the ancient band t-shirt he's using as an undershirt and offering more of his neck to Telly.

Sir Pentious

Telly makes sure to leave his mark-- a little scrape of teeth and then some sucking has a lovely hickie appearing against Alastor's skin. He smirks as he pulls back, pleased at how it looks-- and then he notices the t-shirt.

He blinks. "What'ssss that?" He points at it. He is perplexed. The Radio Demon wears t-shirts under his suit?

Alastor

Tease. Barely grazing his skin and sucking a little at it without biting down? Telly probably hadn’t even broken the skin. Alastor bites his lip, don’t stop there—

—what was that? “Oh! My undershirt!” He sits up, straddling Telly’s hips (pause to consider how amazing and miraculous that is), and pulls the shirt straight out. “They started printing slogans and artwork on undershirts in the 50’s, I thought it was fun! Adds a bit of entertainment to the most boring part of one’s wardrobe.” (He still considers t-shirts a form of underwear.)

The t-shirt in question looks like it was painted by a fantasy novel cover artist and ostensibly displays the name of a metal band, although the name looks more like a tangle of barbed wire than like actual words—and it’s so old it’s falling apart at the seams. This particular piece of high fantasy heavy metal art features a murderous-looking cobra menacing some sort of tiger person. Alastor glances away, momentarily self-conscious. “The local version of you—he also plays pipe organ, obviously—he started playing organ on rock-and-roll bands’ albums in the eighties.” (He still considers heavy metal a form of rock-and-roll.) “One of the only traditionally trained pipe organists in Pentagram City who’s willing to play modern music, I’m given to understand. I can’t stand the sound of it, but... I... like to listen for his solos.”

Sir Pentious

He's careful as he touches the shirt, tracing a claw along the familiar looking cobra. Well, that's something. A smile touches his lips and he chuckles a bit.

"He plays for rock bands? Hm. Never thought of doing that. But I bet it's a fun time for him, being able to play for others. I'm glad you were able to hold on to something of him, even if it's just organ solos in rock music." Telly laughs again, getting his hands on either side of the hem of the t-shirt.

"Arms up, I'd rather not tear something that is important to you." But before that, Alastor gets another kiss, this one a touch sweeter than the others.

Alastor

Another point of difference between the Sir Pentious that Alastor once knew and this one. He files it away carefully. “I’d tell you how he got into it, but I haven’t the foggiest!” A slight grimace. “We... weren’t on speaking terms by that point.” *Even if it’s JUST organ solos.* Yeah, that just about sums it up. He wrenches himself off of that station and leans into the kiss, trying to let it distract him. “Pity, though—I was kind of hoping you could explain the appeal of that music to me! I just don’t get the sound at all.”

He tilts his head so his antlers don't catch the shirt as Telly lifts it and tries not to think about how exposed he is. And there's Alastor half naked. He has a bandage on his shoulder near his neck. Patches of thick red fur on his chest and trailing down the center of his stomach to his belt line do little to hide how bony he is. Almost as soon as he's uncovered, he automatically crosses his arms.

Sir Pentious

The crossed arms were pretty hard to miss. Alastor was clearly uncomfortable being without his clothes, which was fair enough. Not everyone could be as comfortable being nude as a giant snake, after all.

His eyes were drawn to the bandage however, and he very gingerly touched the edges of it, careful not to press. "What's this? Was this from when you healed me? I thought you would've healed it by now..." He arches his brow, and lets his hand trail down to rest on Alastor's arm. Then an idea strikes, something that might make them both more comfortable.

"Oh! Oh, a moment, I think I have something..." He gently took Alastor by his upper arms, easily and quickly, but still gently, moving him off and setting him on the floor. He slithered quickly to his dresser, throwing open a drawer and digging through his clothes. He returned, beaming and triumphant, holding a soft, very large, grey t-shirt.

"If you're not comfortable without something to cover you, then why not this? I just don't want anything to happen to that shirt that you like so much, and I have many shirts of different kinds." He offered it to Alastor, leaning down to kiss his cheek as he did.

Alastor

An ear twitches at the touch to the bandage. "Oh! No, that was here.” He taps his inner arm, see, the skin’s already smooth and only slightly discolored by what looks like long-faded bite marks. “Nothing to worry about—it's not bad, just pierced a bit deep. It's healing fine, so I elected not to waste any magic on it.”

He willingly moves aside and watches curiously as Telly rummages around. What's he looking for— "Oh! No no, I'm fine! I'm just getting used to the chill, that's all. You don't have—" He looks properly at the shirt. He sees the text on the shirt. He takes the shirt. He puts the shirt on.

He loves this shirt.

Sir Pentious

Yes, Telly thought he might. He smiles and settles back on the ground, taking Alastor's hand to pull him back to his lap.

"That's better, yes? And if I should bite through it, well, it'll give the shirt some character. That's what getting blood and bite holes in a shirt does, correct?" He laughed again, his Pentious™️ laugh. He did still slide his hands under the shirt, though, letting his claws dig into Alastor's sides a bit.

And then he leans in for another kiss, rougher this time, testing the waters as it were. He scrapes his fangs hard enough to draw blood at least, and the points of his claws sharply dig in further. He certainly wants to see if Alastor likes that...

Alastor

“Well, they certainly thought so in the nineties.” The shirt isn’t getting blood and bite holes without Alastor getting bloody bites, though—and the thought of it makes his dead heart pound harder, drumming in his ears.

When Telly’s fangs draw blood, it triggers a searing, white-hot, knife-sharp euphoria right behind his eyes, and he leans in hungrily, desperate for more, shaking hands scrabbling for the back of Telly’s neck and head, fangs digging into Telly’s lip.

Sir Pentious

He wasn't expecting quite that reaction, but it was hardly unwanted. His own hands wound around to Alastor's back to pull him closer, smashing them chest to chest. His claws dug in, scraping down Alastor's back, hard enough to leave bloody red lines behind.

Telly pulled from Alastor's lips to return to his neck, and the hickie he'd already left. His mouth opened and he bit, overcome by the urge-- forgetting for a moment, his venom. The thought struck him like lightning, though, and he pulled away cursing.

"Shit! Fuck, oh no, Alastor, hold on--" He rushed off again, this time to his bedside table, to grab a vial and syringe. "I have the anti-venom, let me give it to you, hold on, just a moment--!"

Alastor

He shudders as he’s clawed, the static background noise that surrounds him jittering between stations, grabbing snatches of disconnected voices and half-words. When Telly pulls away from him, he has just enough time to hiss “Please—” before fangs sink into his throat. His voice cuts off completely with a gasp, replace with distorted song clips—“*I've tasted blood and I want more—*” “*OH~ touch-a touch-a touch-a TOUCH me~—*”

He nearly swoons when Telly disappears to go get the anti-venom. For a moment he sits there, blinking, dazed smile on his face, before he registers what happened and gets to his feet to follow Telly. His knees are like jelly, is that from the venom or is it just him? “Give it to me straight, doc, how long until the venom does me in?” He sits on the bed, bats his eyelashes dramatically, and gives Telly a bloody smile. “Short enough that I’ll die happy?”

Sir Pentious

He's torn between laughing at that reaction and pure panic, but his hands don't shake as he gets the dose of anti-venom into the syringe. He takes Alastor's arm and locates a vein, plunging the needle in and then pressing the plunger. Once that's done, he sighs in relief, sinking down to the floor. He rubs his hands over his face, and his breath is shuddering, but after a few more moments, it settles. And then he laughs, a bit choked and a bit manic, but otherwise calm.

Telly lifted his head and then took Alastor's hands in his. "If you want me to bite more, then we're going to have to figure out what to do about my venom. You'll...ah, you'll become resistant eventually, but I certainly don't want to panic after every love bite. Maybe-- is there some magical way to counteract venom? Or make you immune? I am afraid that is not my area of expertise."

Alastor

So fast. Alastor automatically glances away when the shot goes in. Then he leans forward, pressing their foreheads together as Telly laughs, draping an arm over his shoulder—everything’s fine, no harm done. This certainly isn’t how he expected this visit to go; but then he didn’t expect... any of this. He expected to help Telly flake off some dead skin, congratulate him on a shed well done, and go home.

Alastor slides off the bed and seats himself on Telly’s coils. “Well, I most assuredly want you to bite more, so we’ll just have to figure that out! I’ve got a few tricks that can help draw it out, but they’re only partially effective. I could go to some of the higher demons to buy full immunity, but I don’t like making such large purchases from them unless I have to. Beyond that—if you tell me how you make your anti-venom, maybe I could brew up some potion that does the same thing? Or I could go to your local me, see whether he might be able to give me a blood transfusion to pass on whatever immunity he’s started building up?” If Telly panicked that much, Alastor wonders just how much suffering his alternate was in. (He needs to ask Telly about his relationship with the local Radio Demon some time, now that Telly knows a little bit about Alastor’s local Sir Pentious.) He winks, “Or maybe you just need to keep biting me until I get that natural resistance.”

Sir Pentious

He purrs when Alastor presses their foreheads together, and smiles at the gesture. God, he loves this, he loves touching and being touched, so very much, especially here and now and with him.

"I can give you my formula for the anit-venom, yes. I could also make some larger doses of it, perhaps just have more prepared. I could also come up with a device that could maybe automatically inject you, so we don't have to do the bottle and needle dance every time. Maybe an armband of some kind..." He made a face at the mention of the local variety. "I'm not sure if I've bitten him enough for him to gain one." He sniffed a bit haughtily, and then hummed, cupping Alastor's face to lean in to kiss him.

"Also, I could give you just some bottles of my venom, to try and figure out your own version of the anti-venom. Might even be fun, if you want to help milk it." He grins. "But that dose should counteract any more bites tonight-- but tell me if you feel nauseous, or if you get the chills."

Alastor

Alastor tightens his one-arm embrace when Telly kisses him again—he never thought he’d have a chance at this again, smooth scales under his bare skin. It feels so right.

“Oh, I get the chills just looking at you!” The song’s back—“*Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me—*” “What other symptoms should I watch out for? A racing heart? Lightheadedness? Sudden swoons? It might be too late for me!” He melodramatically presses a hand to his forehead—then laughs. God, it feels so good just to *say* that—without having to filter his words. “*Would* you let me have some of your venom?”

Sir Pentious

"Well, then, just tell me if you start to get nauseous." He laughs, and then slithers up onto the bed, taking Alastor with him. He lays among the pillows, letting his hand snake back under his shirt to start scraping against his skin again.

"Of course, as much as you wanted-- though I'm not sure if the classic 'drop in your drink' method of gaining a tolerance would work." He smiles, leaning in to let his tongue flick over the wound on Alastor's neck.

"Didn't know you liked Rocky Horror, darling. But I will _touch-a, touch-a, touch_ you all you want."

Alastor

He rolls onto his side so he can face Telly; and then, realizing that he’s still fully dressed from the waist down, lifts his feet one at a time so he can unlace his shoes and toss them aside. The flick over his wound stings lightly; it sends tingles up and down his neck.

“So you know it!” His face lights up. “It’s not one of my favorites—but it’s a place to go at midnight when all the other picture houses are either closed or showing porn!”

Sir Pentious

"Yes, I do! Sad to say I've never gone to a midnight showing, only ever watched it on my projector here. But I enjoy it, it's very odd." Telly lets out another laugh, watching Alastor toss his shoes. He presses his lips to the wound, smearing some of Alastor's blood there, before moving down to where his neck and shoulder meet. There, he opens his mouth once more and bites down-- if Alastor likes this so much, well, he's more than happy to give him more now that he's had the anti-venom.

Alastor

“Really!” He beams eagerly. “We ought to fix that sometime. *Oh*—with costumes! *We can wear costumes.*” He could already imagine a beautiful future ahead of them: attending every silly little costume event the Pride Ring has to offer, dramatically playing with each other in character... stumbling home together through dark streets in the wee hours of the morning.

Alastor gasps again at the fresh bite—then lets out a giddy laugh. “All my life I’ve heard ‘he treated me like a piece of meat’ being used as a complaint! Please, if you ever feel the urge to bite a whole chunk out of me, don’t hold back.” He wraps an arm around Telly’s waist, drawing him closer—and then starts exploring his body again, running his fingertips up and down his back and dragging his thumb along the outer edges of his new gills. Every time he moves his arm, he can feel it deep in the shoulder muscle that Telly bit.

Sir Pentious

When he pulls back, mouth bloody, he smiles. "Costumes! Yes, absolutely. We both seem to love them, it seems, what better way for us to have fun." He coos.

The touches to his gills made him gasp, and he licks his blood covered teeth. His claws dug in again, and he kneaded, similarly to a cat. He moves his head, and then uses a hand to shift the collar of the shirt, letting him get at another piece of unmarred flesh. And he's biting again. At the end of this, Alastor would probably be covered in blood, but so would he, and he didn't mind that one bit.

"If I feel the urge, I'll be sure to indulge. Right now, all I want is to mark you up all over."

Alastor

Mark him—he likes the sound of that. He likes the idea of having proof that this really happened—something he can look at in the mirror tomorrow and SEE. Incontrovertible evidence.

He nearly digs his claws in when Telly bites again—without his gloves on, his claws are short and black, but still more than sharp enough to break skin—but he freezes, barely restraining himself. No, not that, not now. Instead, he nuzzles Telly’s face and murmurs, “Wasn’t I lotioning you before we got distracted? I believe I still haven’t gotten to most of you.”

Sir Pentious

He blinks. God, the lotion seemed like an eternity ago, he hardly remembers it. He flops back against the pillows and then nods. "Yes, you were. We got caught up in the euphoria of kissing, and biting, I suppose."

He laughs and his tail shifts, searching on the floor. A few moments later, and the tail fully returns to the bed, the lotion coiled in the very tip. "There it is~ Why not get back to it, and then I'll reward you with more bites. And perhaps it will bring forth the twins, as you called them." He snickers.

Alastor

"More? I'm going to leave here looking like Swiss cheese!" It's not a complaint.

He sits up, squeezes a bit more into his hands, and looks over Telly greedily. Oh, where to start? Every last inch available for him to touch as he sees fit. "Let's see... I think I got your back already... So let's start with..." He leans forward, running his hands along Telly's shoulders and collar bones, feeling the bones and muscles underneath, trying to memorize the shapes of them with his fingertips.

Sir Pentious

"Yes, as many as you can stand." He laughs.

When Alastor picked his spot to start, Telly shifted to allow him to reach whatever he might want. His tail moved as well, flipping to expose the bright yellow underbelly. The bed only fit ten feet, and usually he was coiled on it, so spreading out like this really showed just how long her was.

Alastor

"Oh, you're going to regret saying that! I have an amazing tolerance for pain."

His gaze travels down the length of Telly's body, drinking in the two-tone scales and the many eyes—he'll get down there soon enough. He returns his attention to Telly's upper body, moving down to his chest, carefully tracing around the central eye. Oh yes, this was *much* better than nail polish. Better smelling, for one thing. "You know, I wasn't just flattering you earlier. You truly are the single most beautiful being I've ever seen."

Sir Pentious

"I'll have to test it, then." He laughs, and then he bit his lip. He chewed a moment, forgetting his fangs in the need to chew on something. Compliments had that affect-- either a chewed lip or a tear filled eye.

But he stops after a moment and mutters a soft 'Ow.' as his tongue flicked out to lick at the wounds.

"You say that, but, I--" He makes a soft noise and sighs. "I'm sorry I'm still unused to compliments...I always find them hard to accept. But thank you. I know you mean it, and that means a lot to me."

Alastor

"So sorry!" He leans forward to kiss the wound—and get a taste of it himself while he's there. "Does that mean I should keep the compliments to myself? Or should I make sure you get used to them?"

Sir Pentious

"No, please, keep complimenting. I'd rather get used to hearing them, so that when it comes time for the rest of Hell to join in the flattery, I won't be coy about it." He laughs and winks.

Telly smirks slyly as a thought comes to him, and he wipes some of his blood onto his thumb. Then he leans over to spread it on Alastor's lips.

"Mm, that shade's is quite flattering on you." He laughs again and then reclines once more, pleased with himself.

Alastor

He'd hoped Telly would say that.

Before he resumes exercising his God-given right to ramble endlessly without ever shutting up, he lets Telly paint his lips, presses them together like he's smoothing out a layer of lipstick, and runs the tip of his tongue along the inner edge of his lower lip to taste it. It's going to be difficult resisting the urge to lick it straight off. Maybe he ought to start wearing lipstick regularly.

"In that case, I'll have to tell you all about how utterly mesmerizing you are when I watch you swim! Or how bone-chilling your villainous laugh is, or how spectacularly well megalomania suits you! Or how much you awe me with those brilliant machines you put out—so casually! And so quickly! Why, if you worked in magic rather than machinery you'd already be a god, if only you could build your private menagerie out of molecules and cells rather than clockwork parts. I truly believe you have a mind to rival God's, and if I'm wrong I dare Him to smite me for it!" He pauses to wait. He is not smote. "I guess I must be right!"

Sir Pentious

Telly can't help the nervous and almost embarrassed giggles that erupt from him, but his smile is wide. To think, Alastor thought that highly of him when the one of his own universe could spend hours on espousing the opposite. But he wouldn't let thoughts of his local variety sour any of this. He didn't belong anywhere between them. No, this space was theirs and theirs alone.

A contented purr came next and he wiggles against the pillows. He takes one of Alastor's hands and kisses it, leaving a smear of blood there, though the wounds are already starting to stop bleeding.

"You're truly flattering me, Alastor. Soon my true ego will match my bravado." He laughs again. "But please don't let that stop you!" His laugh turned to a cackle.

Alastor

That cackle is enough to give him goosebumps. "I hope they will match! Egomania would *also* look good on you!" He bends down to lick the blood off his own hand (pff, tastes lotiony), then kisses Telly again—and resumes trailing his hands down Telly's body, caressing his chest, his abdomen, and sliding around to his gills again.

Sir Pentious

He returns the kiss and really is loathe to let Alastor go back to touching him if it meant Telly had to break the kiss. But he did, giving another contented purr-- and then a sharp groan when Alastor got near the gills again.

"If these things are that sensitive, I truly wonder how they'll fair when I'm in my suit," He huffs. "They are interesting, though. I want to try them out soon."

Alastor

Oh, those beautiful sounds. It was almost too easy. "That *would* be distracting. I wonder if there's some avant-garde fashion designer somewhere who makes suits with open sides?" He laughs. "Or maybe it's because they're new! Right after I died, my ears and tail were much more sensitive. Not THIS kind of 'sensitive,' but..."

He continues his caresses throughout his talking, slowly trailing lower down Telly's sides toward his hips, back toward that spot Telly showed him earlier that he could now feel with his own bare skin. Hmm. River stone. Yeah. Maybe he could sneak Telly into the mortal realm—take him somewhere *nice* to try out swimming...

Sir Pentious

His breathing is mostly under control, though he can't help the small, downright needy noises that come out with every touch. He just wants to lay here forever, being touched by Alastor.

"I remember my eyes being extremely sensitive before my first shed, but I think that was more just irritation than anything."

Another gasp and he could start feeling the twins as Alastor so named them, starting to peek their heads out from their hidden spot in Telly's sheath.

Alastor

He wonders if the sensitivity was some sort of aftereffect of the way Telly had died—but he wasn’t about to ask and ruin the mood. "I've always wondered how you stand all those eyes everywhere! I suppose you've got some sort of protective layer over them, don't you—but even so! It can't be comfortable slithering around on them all the—oh, hello." He rests his hands on Telly's hips. Guess what he's just noticed?

He goes still and silent for a moment as he studies the emerging equipment, not with a look of lust or hunger but a sort of excited curiosity—eager to see now that the sheath is opening how it usually keeps itself so well-hidden, eager to see the shape of what it contains.

Sir Pentious

God above, he really truly was happy that he couldn't blush, or he'd be even more embarrassed. With how intently Alastor is staring, he can't help but feel self conscious. But he keeps that to himself, biting his lip again.

But despite the burning embarrassment he's feeling, his dicks still emerge, slowly, as they were wont to do. Compared to the rest of him, they don't look the most impressive, but at a solid nine inches, they were on the large end for any human measurements. Not to mention, well, there were two.

They glistened with the slick self lubricant Telly's sheath produced, and he took a short breath once they fully emerged.

"What do you think?" He asks, and immediately the embarrassment is tenfold. Wow, Telly, that was lame, that was super lame. He pressed one hand to his face to hide himself a bit. This was just....a lot.

Alastor

"... Uh." For a moment, he's at a loss for words—not because he's particularly awed or flustered, but rather because he ISN'T, and he knows full well that under the circumstances he's EXPECTED to be. He thinks they’re kind of strange, in the way that one would expect a rarely-seen human part that’s been partially mutated by an animal part to be before one gets used to it; and he also thinks they’re kind of pretty in the same way that he thinks all of Sir Pentious is kind of pretty. But neither of those seem particularly remarkable.

What's a good partner supposed to say when they see someone else's dick(s) for the first time? That question isn't covered in sex ed. Or maybe it is, Alastor wouldn't know, his school didn't have sex ed.

He's read pulp novels and smutty comics, what do they usually say when the dick comes out? Something about the size, typically. "Well," he says, "you're bigger than me." A beat as he rummages around for something else to say. "Good job!"

Sir Pentious

The hand comes off the face, and he just....blinks at Alastor a moment. Then he laughs, loud, deep laughs. It takes time a few moments to calm enough to speak.

"Oh, Alastor, I'm sorry, that was--" He giggles a few more times. "I've never had someone tell me 'Good job!' for having above average sized penises.....Penii? What's the right plural?"

He snaps himself out of thinking about that little conundrum and reaches to take Alastor's hands.

"I must say, you're adorable. Don't worry about figuring out the  right words-- Penii are awkward to talk about." He leans in to kiss him and then smiles, more shy this time.

"Did you....want to touch them? You can, if you wish..."

Alastor

Alastor laughs too, near voicelessly and shoulders shaking. “I didn’t know what else to say! Bigger is generally considered better, isn’t it? It’s—you know—something most men are proud of? It seemed like something worth congratulating!” He laughs again, yes he knows it’s silly.

Adorable? He smiles self-consciously; he’s not sure about this whole *being adorable* business. “You’re one to talk, which one of us got distracted by grammar?” Kiss. “... I think it’s penes, actually.”

He glances back down at The Twins. “I suppose that’s the direction I was headed, isn’t it?” Yes, he does want to touch—but this is another one of those moments that has a bunch of pressure and expectations piled onto it, a weight granted by society at large’s obsession with things that have never mattered to Alastor. He’s not sure how he can touch without it being a disappointment to Telly.

Then better to get the disappointment over with and recover from there, isn’t it? If he puts it off that’s just going to further build up an inevitably underwhelming moment. “Do you have a preference? Or both at once?”

Sir Pentious

He still laughs a little at the grammar comment and shrugs. "What can I say, I'm a Semantics Snake."

He laughs at his own joke and then settles again, taking a deep breath. Well, here it was, the moment of truth, as it were.

"Oh, ah, whichever you wish. I have no preference, nor do you need to....do both at once. The feelings tend to blend anyway." He gave a slight shrug and settled back to....watch, he supposed?

Alastor

Surprised, he asks, “Blend, really? What, does touching both feel like only touching one? What happens if I try to rub circles on one and pat the other?” He wraps his hand around the nearest one like he definitely knows what he’s doing—sure he can handle a dick, he handles his own all the time—immediately lets go in surprise when it’s a lot wetter than he expected, and quickly grabs on again. “What is that—that’s not pre, is it?” It’s a lot, if so—but really, what does he know about how much other men have? He isn’t a doctor.

Sir Pentious

"Yes, them being so close together on my body makes the feelings sort of...combine? Like if you were to grab both, it would definitely feel more than just one, but--" He gets cut off when Alastor wraps his hand around and he gives a little gasp.

"O-oh, ah, um, no, it's not, it's....a sort of natural lubricant that my body produces. Otherwise it would be very uncomfortable when they...came out and whatnot." He laughed, a little breathlessly. "It certainly saves on buying the stuff in a bottle or what have you."

Alastor

“Oh! Makes sense!” He lets go to lick some of the lubricant off his hand to see what it tastes like, then grabs on again to explore the shape of it with his fingertips. “‘Twins’ wasn’t quite right, was it? More like a two-headed turtle, pulling its heads in and out of its shell.” He grins cheekily as he tugs at the edge of the sheath with his pinky.

Sir Pentious

The taste would be....actually quiet similar to Telly's blood, if a bit blander. He's about to say something else when Alastor grabs him again, and a groan comes out instead.

His breath hitches when he touched the sheath, and Telly starts breathing harder, just in general. "The-The sheath is also sensitive, it's full of nerve endings and the like, v-very sssensssitive."

He whines softly, arms shaking a little as he grabs the sheets. Boy is too sensitive for his own good it seems.

Alastor

“Is it!” Alastor leans across Telly’s tail, propping himself up with his elbow on the bed and his cheek in his hand, grinning sweetly and oh so innocently. “So, you’ll be able to feel it particularly well if I do... this?” He runs one finger around the sheath, tracing it from one side of the double dicks to the other.

Sir Pentious

Telly gasps and shudders, his claws tearing the sheets as he gripped them tighter. "Yes!"

The shout is more involuntary than answering his question, but there's another reaction far more exuberant than that-- Telly's tail, rushing to curl from its stretched out position, to coil around Alastor, around the waist, and then his legs. It gave a squeeze, but luckily, not one too hard.

Alastor

Alastor’s gaze darts to Telly’s face when he shouts, and stays there, watching him. Each little noise makes his ears twitch.

The coil wrapped nearest Alastor’s waist serves to alert him to the fact that he has, in fact, developed a boner himself—which is, as far as he’s concerned, an unsurprising but unwanted physical inconvenience in the middle of what’s been an otherwise good time, not unlike sitting in an odd position too long and standing to find one’s foot has gone numb. When he shifts in Telly’s coils to sit up and lean forward, he absentmindedly adjusts Telly’s coil to keep the pressure off of the party crasher so Alastor can stay focused on Telly’s reactions. “Keep making those beautiful sounds, would you?” With one hand he traces around the bases of Telly’s dicks and runs along the sheath, and with the other he reaches up to play with his gills on one side—and the whole time he watches Telly so intently he might not even be blinking.

Sir Pentious

Telly is too consumed by the pleasure to notice Alastor's boner, fortunately for Alastor. He's also not used to being told to be loud. More often, he's asked to keep it down. He keeps himself from biting his lip again, so as not to stifle the noises. His panting is the first noise, and then, moans and groans pour out of him, with every touch and stroke. And then--

"Alassstor!" Halfway between a whine and shout, he writhes on the sheets.

Alastor

He nearly claws into Telly’s side at the sound of his own name—and again just barely restrains himself. “Yes!” He leans half over Telly, gaze darting like a spotlight between his face and his writhing body, eyes shining bright with hunger and adoration. “Oh, let me hear that again!” Like the Phantom compelling Christine to keep singing, if the Phantom sounded like an overexcited 1920s radio broadcaster.

Sir Pentious

His tongue sticks out and stays out, as he pants, and his eyes meet Alastor's, wide and red-pink.

"Alastor, please, more." He whines. Telly's able to release the sheet with one hand, and reach over to press a claw against one of the bites he left.

"I want more."

Alastor

Alastor shudders as wonderful pain lances his shoulder. “Anything you want, *ma reine*.” As long as Alastor knows that he’s the one giving Sir Pentious that pleasure—as long as it’s his name being panted—Alastor will do whatever it takes to give him more of it.

Both hands move to Telly’s dicks and sheath—he might not have any conventional sexual experience, but he certainly knows how to give hand jobs, he’s been giving himself those for well over a century—and his arms’ shadows peel up and slide up Telly’s waist to wrap around his sides.

Sir Pentious

The shadows are odd, but not any stranger than the fact that Telly was a snake and Alastor a deer. They do, however, feel odder than actual flesh and blood hands, and that pulls his attention for a brief moment. At least, until Alastor's attention focuses on his dicks. A whine catches in his throat and he shifts under him.

"Please, _mon roi_," He murmurs, eyes shifting from Alastor's hands to his face. He didn't think today would be ending with him in bed with Alastor, but well, he certainly wasn't going to complain. Especially not when his hands were doing so much for him.

Alastor

Alastor didn’t think *any* day was going to be ending with him in bed with Sir Pentious. Although, to be fair, he sometimes forgets that “in bed with” is an item in other people’s lists of priorities until someone else reminds him. It’s still remarkable.

“Tell me what else you want.” He’s going to keep stroking, keep caressing, keep repeating the things that get the loudest groaning and most dramatic squirming, and pushing them farther wherever he can.

Sir Pentious

It takes him a good few moments to get his brain together enough to remember things he liked, other than everything Alastor was already doing.

"Bite me. I-I like being bit, too. I want some to match what I left on you." He pants and arches against his hands, moaning softly. "Otherwise, just keep going. It feels so _good_, Alastor."

Alastor

To this point he’s been loathe to spill more than a drop or two of Telly’s blood—but at the explicit invitation, his smile stretches even wider. “We’re going to be quite a pair, aren’t we.” He chuckles, straddling Telly’s waist so he only has to let go with one hand to help him keep his balance. He kisses Telly’s neck and collar bone—and then sinks his teeth in. Oh, *delicious*. He wishes he could take a chunk of muscle with him, he’d commit a thousand murders to find out what Telly’s flesh actually tastes like. The blood will have to be enough.

Sir Pentious

"Yes, we will--" He gasps when Alastor's teeth sink in, and then his eyes squeeze shut and he shouts out Alastor's name again. Now that he was closer, Telly's hands move around to Alastor's back, under the shirt, and rake down again-- a sure sign of approval from the snake.

"If anyone asks you...if you got into a fight... you have to answer 'You should see the other guy.'" He wheezes out a laugh, breathless as he is.

Alastor

He shivers under the claws. He can’t remember the last time he got torn up like this, but whenever it was, it couldn’t have been half this good.

His laugh is muffled—his fangs are still buried in Telly’s shoulder almost up to the gums. He releases his bite, licks up the first blood to seep out, and plants a kiss on Telly’s lips. “And if anyone asks, who won the fight?” He doesn’t wait for an answer before switching over to Telly’s other shoulder and giving it a matching bite.

Sir Pentious

He returns the kiss, hungry for the taste of his own blood on Alastor's lips. The bit he's smeared there earlier was now covered up with a fresh coat, that was nice. He laughs, his head tilting to give Alastor more space for his next bite.

"Hm, I think--" He gets cut off yet again by a moan tearing itself through him. His hips buck a bit underneath Alastor, begging for more attention.

"I think we both win..."

Alastor

“Mm-hmm!” He moves his second hand back down to Telly’s dicks—which means he can’t prop himself up anymore, but he can live with that. He can get up on his knees to give himself enough space to access the dicks; it’s an awkward angle, but it works.

And it means he’s resting on his chest with his head right next to Telly’s, letting Alastor listen to every lovely laugh and moan.

Sir Pentious

And purr, which is the sound that comes next. Telly turned his head to kiss him again, moaning against his lips.

"I think I'm close, Alastor. Go all out, make me climax," He whispers, his claws dragging down his back again.

Alastor

He thought he WAS going all out. He’s new at this, “bite” and “jerk” are the only two tools in his toolkit. He panics for half a second—what does Telly want for the grand finale, a musical number? (he could handle that, actually)—before he realizes he can just pick up the pace, can’t he?

That, and return to kissing, deeply and eagerly.

Sir Pentious

Turning up the pace certainly works, quite well, in fact. As does the kissing. Their mouths are pressed together when Telly is finally pushed over the edge, and he gasps into his mouth, muttering Alastor's name. His entire body shudders, hard, and that is a lot of body to shudder. His hips jerk up, and both of his dicks spurt in time.

"Ah...Alastor...."

Alastor

He keeps on jerking through the length of Telly’s orgasm, reveling in the sound of his own name and the feel of Telly’s entire body moving beneath him. Success! Mission accomplished!

At last he lets go and murmurs back, “Telly.” A light kiss. “Sir Pentious.” Another kiss.

Sir Pentious

"Alastor," He mutters in return, a blissed out smile on his lips. And then. "Torry." A giggle and then a kiss. "Or maybe....Astor? Do you like that?"

❤️📻🐍❤️ The Naughty Bits END HERE! ❤️📻🐍❤️

Sir Pentious

"Alastor," He mutters in return, a blissed out smile on his lips. And then. "Torry." A giggle and then a kiss. "Or maybe....Astor? Do you like that?"

Alastor

He’s silent a moment, trying out the nicknames in his head, listening to the sound of them. “Astor,” he repeats. “Astor, huh. Makes me sound like a star, doesn’t it.”

Sir Pentious

"It does. And it's fitting because you are one." He takes Alastor's chin in his fingers and kisses him again. "I figured that since I have a nickname, you should too. Would certainly help to make things less complicated when referring to you, rather than one of the others."

Alastor

Huff. He returns the kiss, then says ruefully, "Not for a long time, I haven't been a star. But it's a fine sentiment! Maybe again soon, who knows? Maybe as Marquesident Laufeyefferson." He laughs. “If my being in the show doesn’t scare the audiences away from the theater.”

Sir Pentious

"Mm, mm, none of that talk. You are a star, you're my star, and I'll see you shinning again." He smiles and pokes Alastor's nose as he speaks. And then there's another kiss and his arms wrap tight around the Radio Demon. "And you'll have at least," He pauses, mentally tabulating. "Three people there to see you in it."

Alastor

“Why, throw in duplicates and the hotel crew—who I’m *going* to make come—and we might have a dozen! You can fill the rest of the audience with eggs!” HUFF! "So you'll make me a star and I'll make you king of Hell. That's the deal, right?"

For some reason, saying it out loud like that makes him feel strangely emotional. He returns the embrace just as tightly and presses his face into Telly's shoulder, blood and all.

Sir Pentious

"I'll have to get cloning then!" He snickers.

"That is indeed." He laughs softly, his hand going to the back of Alastor's head, to pet his hair. "You're mine, now. I'm yours. We're ours." He's not quite sure what he's actually saying right now, more just rambling in the afterglow.

Alastor

"I'm yours. You're mine. And this is real." That's the hardest part to believe. That the snakeskin under his hands is attached to an actual moving thinking person, not a piece of python-printed leather. That he didn't imagine all the words playing back in his head. That he was given a chance, in spite of everything. *You’ll belong to me, I’ll belong to you.*

Sir Pentious

Telly purrs in contentment, one hand resting on Alastor's back as the other pets over his hair. "Do you want to sleep here? Don't have an other engagements to attend to, _mon roi_?" His tone is light and playful as his fingers massage the base of one of Alastor's ears.

Alastor

"You couldn't pry me off with a crowbar." He pauses. "Except to use the bathroom. We should probably both wash off, shouldn't we?" And Alastor needs to take the opportunity to jerk off. The human body, he's found, is something like a battleship with very poor communication between the sailors: if the men belowdecks peep out their portholes and see other ships nearby firing their cannons, they hasten to ready their own ship's cannon even if the captain above has no interest in using it.

Sir Pentious

"Yes, I think we should. I do not like letting it, uh, dry on my scales." Telly shifted, coils loosening to free Alastor. He got up and moved towards a door on the far side of the room.

"I'm going to fill up the tub to wash, and you may join me or clean up in the sink if you'd rather that." He smiles. "But I absolutely would not mind if you joined me, were you so inclined."

Alastor

"You think that's bad, imagine letting it dry in your hair." He runs his fingers through the fur on his lower stomach.

On the one hand, getting to be with Telly in a tub. On the other hand, being in the tub, totally naked. "I'll take the sink! I need to look for bandages, anyway. And snoop through all your cabinets." Studio audience laughter. (No but he's definitely going to snoop.) "But I'll come bother you once I'm cleaned up."

Sir Pentious

"All right, then, I will be awaiting you in the true bathroom-- that is, the one with the bath in it." He let out a hissing laugh before slithering through the door, and then to the other at the far side. He started his bath, humming as he put his favorite mix of fragrances in.

Alastor

In the false bathroom, Alastor quickly disarms the uncooperative cannon, pulls off his shirt to wash it in the sink, scrubs off the mess that managed to get beneath the shirt hem... and then, in the process of cleaning off his wounds, stops and stares at himself in the mirror. That really happened, didn't it? How does he feel about that?

About a dozen different ways. None of which he has time to examine right now. Mute those stations and save them for when he's by himself—TRULY by himself, not a room away from somebody who's waiting on him. He digs out some first aid supplies, properly cleans and covers up his bites, and magically dries out his new shirt so he can pull it back on.

Then he pulls off his socks and garters so they won't get wet, tosses them at his other discarded clothes in Telly's room as he passes, and ducks into the true bathroom. “Tired of hanging out in here after a week of it?” Studio laughter. "Well? How do the gills work?"

Sir Pentious

Telly isn't even in the water when Alastor comes back-- but he is dripping and, for some reason, sneezing.

"I may have forgotten about them and put scented oil in the water and now it feels like I snorted it up my nose." Another sneeze.

"So I am rerunning the bath, this time without the oils, and hopefully that will clear things out." He smiles over at Alastor and gives him a once over.

"You clean up nice," He jokes.

Alastor

Alastor laughs loudly. "Oh, and to think I missed it! I chose the wrong bathroom!" He flings an arm around Telly's shoulders. "You poor thing. I guess chlorinate pools are out now, aren't they!" Pity, Telly did so love his fragrances—Alastor wonders whether any of his stock of plants, whether culinary or magical, could serve as an adequately fragranced substitute that wouldn’t irritate Telly’s gills.

Sir Pentious

"Most likely, until my body can adjust to having those sorts of things pass through the gills. I'll have to perform some tests."

He turns his head to kiss Alastor's cheek, before smiling as he slid back into the tub. He did love this in ground design-- so much more convenient for a snake.

Alastor

He sits on the floor next to Telly. "I don't know a lot of fish sinners, unfortunately, or else I'd recommend them to you to ask them questions. Learn from other people's mistakes and all that." After a moment of thought, he rolls up his pant legs so he can stick his hooves in the tub.

Sir Pentious

"Oh, I've missed those hooves," He coos, sliding over to where Alastor sat. "They're so cute, you should take off your shoes more." Under the water, his gills flared and then settled, repeating as he breathed the water.

Alastor

Cute, huh? He crosses his legs to lift one hoof up where it's easier for Telly to see them. The red fur that climbs almost to his knees is currently wet and slicked down and probably less cute than when it’s fully fluffy. “I haven’t had much reason to take them off! Just at the beach and in the bathroom. Although I suppose if I’m going to be spending—“ He realizes what he’s saying halfway through, stops himself, then sheepishly continues with his volume lowered, “... nights over here, from time to time...” It still seems too much to assume.

Sir Pentious

He pushed himself further out of the water to kiss Alastor, softly, and with love. "You're welcome to spend as much time here as you want-- You should know that I can't get enough of you." He winked-- and then his brain clicked and reminded him of something that was dreadfully important, especially under current circumstances.

"Oh! I need to tell you about Hel! Oh, I completely forgot to mention it before we started-- well..." He cleared his throat and chuckled. "She's fine with it, with this, with us. I spoke with her when I first was starting to develop feelings for you and we talked about it. Apparently, in her culture, it's actually quite normal and mundane to be polyamourous! But you don't-- you don't mind either, do you?" He suddenly looks QUITE nervous.

Alastor

OH GOD HEL. *OH GOD HEL.* OH GOD **HEL.** Alastor’s heartbeat sounds less like a timpani and more like a drum roll. He entirely forgot, in the excitement of the everything, that Telly is a taken man. What would his mother think of him. Alastor’s a home wrecker. Or—*worse*—Alastor is some rich British noble’s idea of a fun time before going home each night to his far more powerful and important wife—

OH no never mind, God, everything is fine. “Thank *goodness*.” Alastor’s muscles give out and he flops backwards onto the tile. Listen to the chirping of those invisible birds flying around his head. Now the back of his shirt’s wet. “I...”

...*Does* he mind it? He doesn’t know. He’s imagined what it would be like to be with Sir Pentious more times than he could begin to count, but he’s never considered the possibility that Sir Pentious might simultaneously be with someone else. Alastor’s rarely heard anything nice said about polygamous folks, but he’s noticed a high correlation between the kind of people who go out of their way to raise a big fuss about polygamy and the kind of people who raise a big fuss about queers and the mixing of the races, both of which Alastor happens to be heartily in favor of himself, and that makes him disinclined to put too much stock in such people’s criticisms of any *other* amorous arrangements. He’s known a few little trios or quartets that seemed perfectly happy, although he knows very little about their inner workings. But how does Alastor feel about being *part* of one?

He’s deferring that decision until later. “If she’s fine with it, I want to hear it out of her own mouth. No offense, I hold you in the *highest* esteem, but as a general policy I’m not going to take *any* man’s word for it if he says his lady is fine with him bedding random entertainers he happens to fancy.”

Sir Pentious

Telly watches as Alastor processes it and then as he flops back against the tile. He pulled himself up a little more, and a little bit out of the tub, to flop down beside him. "I will happily arrange that. She'll be glad to hear that we've both finally figured things out." He can't help a little snicker.

"I've been talking with her about my feelings for you this whole time almost, and she's been supportive of it. I just....didn't tell you sooner because I didn't know if you liked me in the same way. I think it's obvious now that we both were a bit blind, weren't we?" He slid closer, laying his head next to Alastor's. He took his arm in one hand and squeezed it, his other twining his fingers with Alastor's.

"I mean, how awkward would it have been for me to just blurt out 'my girlfriend is fine if we start dating!' and then it turned out you _weren't_ interested in me like that? I would've been mortified and it might've ruined the friendship we'd been building. I didn't want to do that. But well, now....now is a good time because now we both know, and that needs to be clear. And don't worry, I'm not expecting you to do anything romantic with her and I doubt she'd want to anyway. It'd just be that I'm dating both of you. I find it quite a novel thing, no one ever openly did such things when I was alive."

He hummed, taking a deep breath and letting it out. "I should finish washing up. You....do still want to stay the night, right?"

Alastor

Alastor laughs. “That’s the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard! Granted, it would have worked on me, but...” He trailed off as he processed the rest of what Telly had said.

“Blind, worried about reading too much into things, either or. Sure, I noticed you were... affectionate, but so’s the Sir Pentious I’m friends with, and it’s entirely platonic out of him.” (Either that, or he’s a much better liar than Alastor thinks. Which he refuses to believe is possible.) “What do you mean, ‘this whole time’? How long, exactly?”

Sir Pentious

Oh. He pauses in getting up, and instead of sliding back into the water, sits there on the edge of the tub. He'd hoped Alastor hadn't caught that. "Ah...well, I've....I've had feelings for you since....since the extermination vacation. That's when Hel and I first talked about it-- I talked with her after our swim and talk. And I've just been feeling more and more since then."

He looked sheepish, looking at the far wall as he drew his hood over his shoulder to pet in a self soothing way. "I wanted to tell you sooner, but again, I didn't want to make things awkward...."

Alastor

*That long.* Alastor marvels at that, staring at the ceiling. They could have had this torrid encounter on a beautiful beach... “Wicked Game” on the wind and Chris Isaak’s ghost smiling in approval... a giant alien sea serpent watching...

“You know, I think I’m glad it took this long! I probably would have gone with it then, but I... don’t think I knew you well enough to do this then.” He honestly still isn’t sure he knows Telly well enough to do this *now.* “I’m used to this whole process taking more like... fifteen years.”

Sir Pentious

"I understand. It seems I tend to move a little fast-- Hel and I met at the speed dating and then that grew fast, too. But one thing I know is my own feelings. Most of the time." He shrugged, turning to look at Alastor.

"We can slow things down now, if you want but I can't say that I'm not happy that we're here now. I like....everything being out there, all these feelings I've been holding inside finally where you can see them. I'm glad we don't have to tiptoe around one another, wondering if the other feels the same." He took Alastor's hand and brought it up to kiss.

"There's a lot we still need to learn about each other, but we can do it now without constantly wondering about our feelings."

Alastor

He squeezes Telly’s hand. “And believe you me, that *is* a relief.” He shuts his eyes, sigh. “But I wouldn’t mind slowing down a little now that we’re here.”

Sir Pentious

"Slowing down," He said, nodding and smiling. He leaned in to kiss his cheek. "I'm more than fine with that." He released his hand to slide back into the tub, grabbing a washcloth.

"Just give me a couple minutes and I'll be ready for bed, darling. I think I'll forgo the nightshirt tonight."

Alastor

Alastor cranes his neck to meet the kiss without having to sit up. "Fine by me." What’s *he* going to wear? Same as usual, he figures—boxers and t-shirt.

He props himself up on his elbows to watch while Telly cleans himself—and the way water rolls down his scales, and the way his muscles move and flex... "You know, you're pretty good looking from this angle, too." A disembodied wolf whistle plays.

Sir Pentious

Telly snorts and looks over his shoulder, giving Alastor a half hearted glare. He finishes up and then slithers from the tub and over to the heated towel rack-- freshly replenished by the Eggs when they'd taken away his shed. He started drying himself and then smirked at Alastor.

"Why not make yourself useful and grab a towel, hm? Instead of just oogling me like I'm a steak still dripping blood."

Alastor

He laughs. "Fine, fine!" He pulls his legs out of the tub, stands, and magically dries off the back of his shirt and seat of his pants—and takes two steps on his now-wet hooves, and immediately slips and lands face first on the floor. He lays there for a second, stunned. His shirt is wet again. Then he rolls on his back, lifts a hand into the air, and says, "You know, maybe I should just..." A towel flies across the room and into Alastor's hand. He holds it out to Telly.

Sir Pentious

Telly can't help the laughter that escapes him and his hand flies to his mouth. He slithers over and offers his hand to help him up-- at least to a sitting position.

"Oh darling, I'm sorry, but that was hilariousssss." He giggles more before offering the lower end of his tail for Alastor to dry. "No wonder you don't like walking on those hooves on tile. Hardwood is probably just as bad. Maybe I should get some rugs."

Alastor

"This is why I went into radio instead of musical theater." He accepts the hand, chuckling at himself. “That’s the great thing about shoes: traction!” Studio laughter. “How well does slithering work on rugs?”

Oh, Alastor gets to dry it? He does so almost reverently. They got "distracted" partway into the lotioning, Alastor never got an opportunity to lavish attention on Telly's tail. Time to make up for that.

Sir Pentious

"If it's something like an oriental rug, I should be fine."

Telly hums as he dries, and if Alastor listens closely and knows the tune, he would recognize it as part of your world from the little mermaid.

Every eye that Alastor approaches with the towel doesn't blink, but they did follow his movements, pupils dilating a bit. They watch him intently, almost adoringly, if eyes embedded in Telly's body could look at anyone with adoration.

Alastor

He doesn't see why they shouldn't be able to look at him adoringly. He makes direct eye contact with one and winks to see whether it winks back.

It takes him a moment to recognize the song—Disney musicals usually fall into "I'll watch it once to say I did" territory—but when he does, he cracks up. "You ARE a mermaid now, aren't you! Merman? Not a little one, though!"

Sir Pentious

It unfortunately doesn't. Not having eyelids will do that to an eye. It does, however, dilate a little further.

Telly's humming stopped when Alastor spoke and it took him a moment to understand what he was saying. He laughs after and shrugs a little.

"I suppose so! The Little Mermaid is my favorite of the Disney fare."

Alastor

"Really! I would have pegged you for more of a..." A moment of thought, then he admits, "Actually, I wouldn't have pegged you as a Disney fan at all.” He supposes the mermaid movie makes as much sense as any. What with the taste for sea shanties. And sea monsters. And sea. “Why The Little Mermaid?"

Sir Pentious

Telly gives him an affection, if sort of suffering look and lifts his arm to gesture to the gills.

"Thought that would be obvious by now, darling. What's not to love about a movie revolving around the sea with musical numbers and quite stunning animation?"

Alastor

"Okay, fair! Hah! I just wondered if there was *more* to it than that! Besides, a movie about trying to escape the sea? Why, you're more of a reverse Little Mermaid."

Sir Pentious

"It's more than that, more than even it's connection to the sea, it's a story about love and sacrifice, and it is decidedly queer, both versions of it-- I also loved the written version when I was alive. It resonates with me on many levels than just the surface." His face lights up a moment, and he laughs.

"Like the sea! More under the surface!" He giggles more.

Alastor

He gives Telly a surprised look. "Really? Girl meets boy, girl falls for boy, girl elopes with boy? Where's the queer part?" He pauses. "Besides the fact that the octopus is clearly a drag queen."

Sir Pentious

Telly looked at Alastor, his head tilting. "Have you never read about Hans Christian Anderson or Howard Ashman who wrote the songs for the Disney film? They were both homosexual, Alastor. And both put their own feelings into the character of The Little Mermaid herself. Part of your World is even Ashman lamenting that he wishes to be part of a world that would accept him for who he was and who he loved."

He slithered closer and cupped his face. "_I don't know when, I don't know how, but I know something's starting right now. Watch and you'll see, some day I'll be part of your world._"

Alastor

Alastor probably originally had something intelligent to say, but then Telly took his face and started singing directly to him, and now Alastor is automatically playing the orchestral accompaniment and utterly transfixed.

Sir Pentious

Telly almost loses the song when the orchestra kicks in-- well seems he'd have to get used to music accompaniment when he sang instead of his usual acapella.

"See? When it is sung by a man, doesn't it feel different? It's a song for everyone who ever felt like they didn't belong in the world to which they were born."

Alastor

Alastor probably originally had something intelligent to say, but then Telly took his face and started singing directly to him, and now Alastor is automatically playing the orchestral accompaniment and utterly transfixed.

Sir Pentious

Telly almost loses the song when the orchestra kicks in-- well seems he'd have to get used to music accompaniment when he sang instead of his usual acapella.

"See? When it is sung by a man, doesn't it feel different? It's a song for everyone who ever felt like they didn't belong in the world to which they were born."

Alastor

"Uh." Garbled stations as Alastor clears his throat. "It certainly feels different when *you* sing it." At the moment he's a little too twitterpated to register deeper nuance than that.

Sir Pentious

He laughs and kisses him. "Well, I hope you get used to it, because it's often what my mind latches on to when I am distracted by other things."

Telly strokes Alastor's ear once before shifting his tail towards him. "Now, let's finish getting me dry, and then we can lay down."

Alastor

Kiss! His lips are going to be numb by the time he leaves. “I, for one, hope I never get used to it.”

Right, back to work—hah, work. He continues lovingly drying every inch of Telly’s tail.

Sir Pentious

It doesn't take long with the both of them, to get him dry-- certainly less time than when he's alone. And once they're done, Telly's leaning down to, ayup!, lift Alastor into his arms bridal style.

"Don't want you falling again, dear."

Alastor

He reaches up toward Telly, expecting he’s about to be given a hand to get to his feet. He does NOT expect to be lifted into the air. He flails in surprise, arm flung around Telly’s neck, heart hammering in panic, until he registers what’s happened and stares at Telly. Oh. *Oh.*

A disembodied song clicks on: “*Sha-la-la-la-la-la, music play, do what the music say, you gotta kiss the girl—*”

Sir Pentious

Telly laughs softly, and hums along with the song for a moment. Then he leans down and does as the song says, and kisses the ~~girl~~ deer demon. He lets his lips linger there and then pulls back, slithering towards the door. Through it and then through the next, and they're back in the bedroom. But Telly doesn't set Alastor down, nope, he carries him all the way to the bed and then lays him down with a large amount of gentleness.

"Ready to get out of those pants?" He asks.

Alastor

Telly could toss Alastor down like a sack of potatoes and he’d be happy. He’s not used to all this gentleness. He’s not sure how to register being treated tenderly.

“Oh, very ready!” He reaches to unbuckle his belt, pauses, then laces his hands behind his head. “You know what? I bet you’d enjoy doing the honors a lot more than I would.”

Sir Pentious

Telly's brows raised and his smile took a turn for the salacious. "Oh my, getting to remove the Radio Demon's pants? What an honor~"

His hands moved to Alastor's waist, sliding down slowly to grab at his waistband. Telly tugged them down, and off, tossing them aside. "There we go, the Radio Demon, pantless."

Alastor

He lifts his hips a little to give his tail room to slide out of the slit in the back of his pants, then flops back down. Behold, the Radio Demon’s underwear. He wears red-and-white vertical-striped boxers that are so old-fashioned they’re held up with tiny buttons instead of an elastic waistband.

He removes his monocle and tucks it away... somewhere? “Not half the honor of spending the night in the great Sir Pentious’s bed!”

Sir Pentious

Oh, he hadn't even noticed the monocle had stayed on until Alastor removed it. Interesting. He slithers up onto the bed, coiling around Alastor and then tugging him close to his chest. "The first of many, hopefully."

He laughs, and kisses him again, his hand rising to stroke at Alastor's ears. He sighs softly and then speaks once more. "I could....sing more, if you wish? I don't do it usually around other people, but I will for you. Again."

Alastor

He wraps his arms around Telly and shuts his eyes. “I cannot begin to tell you how much I want to hear you sing more.” He shivers pleasantly and his ears twitch contentedly under the stroking. He really gets to stay here, all night.

Which is as frightening as it is thrilling. He opens one eye a slit. “It won’t bother you if I’m fidgety or wander off during the night, will it? I’m restless at night. I promise I’ll come back, I just need to move around.”

The last time he tried this, he spent the entire night wide awake in bed, unable to distract himself, staring at the sleeping form next to him, going over what had just happened again and again and again until by dawn he felt like he had no choice but to run. He ISN’T going to repeat that mistake this time. Maybe taking a 3 a.m. walk rather than just lying there will help keep himself from panicking again.

Sir Pentious

"That will be find. I'm a light sleeper, so if you need me to move my coils, just wake me. I'll fall back to sleep soon after, too. Feel free to explore, though there's not much you haven't seen already. But you know where I keep the violins, so if you feel like doing something, feel free to play." He smiles and kisses his forehead. "Just make sure to come back to me."

Telly settled back down, holding Alastor against his chest. "All right, any requests? If not, I may just default to some more Disney. They write some earworms for those animated features!"

Alastor

“I will, never you fear.” Violin, would that steady his nerves? Couldn’t hurt. Might take it outside so he doesn’t wake Telly. “If I need to wander around, I’ll go check them out.”

He lets out a slow sigh, static rushing out of him in a gush. “Whatever you want to sing. I want to learn what you like.”

Sir Pentious

Telly nods and settles down on his back, making sure Alastor close as he thinks. He lets out a little ah-ha! as he starts to sing.

"_I know you/I walked with you once upon a dream/I know you/That gleam in your eye is so familiar a gleam/And I know it's true/That visions are seldom what they seem/But if I know you/I know what you'll do/You'll love me at once/The way you did once/Upon a Dream._"

Alastor

He has just enough time to register the lyrics and affectionately think oh, how fitting, and then he’s gone. Bam. Mr. I’m Just Too Restless There’s No Way I’m Going To Fall Asleep And This Entire Night Is Going To Be A Tense Anxious Trial is out like a light one song in.

Which means Telly gets to find out some very interesting trivia: when Alastor falls asleep, his constant passive radio broadcast shuts off. And when it shuts off, Alastor does what every other station in the 1930’s did at the end of the nightly sign-off: play the national anthem.

Which means one second Alastor’s drifting off peacefully, and the next second—without Alastor stirring at all—the air is filled with the song Lucifer picked as Hell’s anthem: a nearly-but-not-quite-dignified marching band cover of a polka song.

Sir Pentious

He's surprised by the anthem, certainly, but then a fond smile comes across his lips. He waits for it to end before he starts humming Once Upon a Dream again, settling down to get himself some shut eye too.

[lady-divine-writes]

Jealousy

Aziraphale is used to people stopping by his shop to flirt with his (sleeping) husband, so he doesn’t let it bother him. But when the shoe is on the other foot, Crowley doesn’t take it as well. (2213 words)

A peculiar thing happens in Aziraphale's shop on August 13th at precisely two in the afternoon.

A man comes in looking for a book.

That’s not the peculiar part.

People attempt to buy books at Aziraphale’s shop all the time. They’re mostly unsuccessful, but the opportunity is theoretically there.

The peculiar part comes when this man - a statuesque, ruggedly-handsome man in a finely tailored, tan suit, aubergine shirt, and silk tie; a man who looked like he would be equally as comfortable touring the Savannah on holiday as he would be making corporate decisions in a board room – flirts with Aziraphale.

Aziraphale can be oblivious to those things, but the only people who seem to have eyes for him anyway are older women, mainly widows and divorcees, not searching for an exciting good-looker for their next relationship, but a reliable, stable, respectful man that they can talk to about books and music; who will take them to fancy restaurants on Friday nights and play Canasta with them on the weekends. A nice, non-threatening man who likes to garden and do crossword puzzles and cuddle, who won’t make too many demands on them physically. And even then, by the time Aziraphale figures them out, the women in question have already gotten bored and gone, leaving Aziraphale secretly grateful that he didn’t have to part with another one of his precious first editions.

Flirting happens to Crowley all the time. That Aziraphale notices. Women and men alike wander in off the streets to gawk at him. He’s a demon. He appeals to the baser instincts of mortals and that draws them to him. But he also happens to be stunning (in Aziraphale’s opinion, at least).

Aziraphale sees himself as having the appeal of an old couch – quaint and comfortable, familiar, convenient when you need a place to rest your bum but not the sort of thing you’d get excited over if the doorbell rang and you saw it sitting on your front stoop.

But the man who comes in, with his Rolex watch and his hundred dollar haircut, doesn’t so much as even make eye contact with Crowley.

He only has eyes for Aziraphale.

“Hello,” he says in a voice so smooth it slips through his lips and into Aziraphale’s ears without him needing to breathe too hard. “My name’s Ryan. I called earlier about purchasing a first edition of The Velveteen Rabbit? You said you had a copy?”

“Oh,” Aziraphale says with a startled gulp, but he doesn’t know why. He’s not sure why the tone of this man’s voice makes him swallow like that. Or why the way he looks at him makes the apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears go pink. “Yes. Yes, I do. Excuse me for not fetching it prior to your arrival. I wasn’t sure you were serious about picking it up.”

“Yes, I am. It’s very important to me. I’ve been looking for one everywhere.”

“Then you’re in luck!” Aziraphale rises off his stool with a hop. “Because I do indeed have one.” He strolls through the rows of shelves, hunting down the copy Adam had so conveniently magicked up for him after the Apoca-no-go. He hums while he walks, suddenly in a chipper mood as he scans the spines in the children’s section.

As happens quite a bit when Aziraphale’s in the stacks, he gets the feeling that he’s not alone. And he’s not. There’s a general presence that seems to haunt his shop, one that he hasn’t sorted out yet. And, of course, there’s his husband, napping on a chair off to one corner that gets neither too much shade nor sun. Aziraphale peeks over his shoulder, curious if his husband may have woken up and decided to slither behind him, but it’s not him.

It’s Ryan.

And Aziraphale smiles bashfully to himself.

“You know, many people would simply download a book like this,” Aziraphale says when he finds what he’s searching for. “I’ve heard you can find it online for free.”

“True, but reading a book online doesn’t compare to holding it in your hands. And a first edition has probably been held by many people, read to many children, and just generally loved to pieces. Kind of like the velveteen rabbit. Wouldn’t you agree?”

From behind the stacks, Aziraphale sees Crowley peek out, glaring over the rims of his Valentino shades. The angel’s eyes brighten at the sight of him. He’s about to summon him over, but he blinks, and his husband disappears in the quarter-second it takes for his eyes to open again.

“Yes, I would definitely agree.”

“Of course, it may not necessarily be that way with every book. You have to make a connection with it.” Ryan takes the book from Aziraphale, two of his fingers brushing the back of Aziraphale’s hand when he does. “They’re kind of like people that way. After a while, you develop a relationship with it. It becomes important to you. And you never want to part with it.”

“Oh, that’s … that’s beautiful,” Aziraphale says. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard it described that way before, but it’s true. I feel that way about all my favorite books. I do hope your little one feels the same way about this one.”

“Oh, I’m not married.” Ryan flashes his vacant ring finger along with a brilliant smile. “Don’t have any children. I’m sorry to say that this book is simply a gift from me to my inner child. It’s the key to something I’ve been missing, something that I’m hoping to get back.”

“That’s charming. I hope whatever it is that you’ve lost, you find it again.”

“I do as well.”

They talk as Aziraphale rings him up – about books, about music, about the trinkets Aziraphale keeps around the shop and the history behind each one. They briefly talk about Ryan’s job as CFO of a brand new startup that’s skyrocketed within the past year, but they mostly talk about Aziraphale’s shop and his passion for the written word. No other customers come in, or if they do, Aziraphale doesn’t notice. He pulls Ryan up a chair and offers him a cup of tea, hoping Crowley will eventually join them, but he doesn’t go looking for him. Crowley seems to relish his eight hour naps in Aziraphale’s shop.

Far be it for Aziraphale to interrupt him.

As the day drips on, Aziraphale starts to notice the change in the quality of the light as shadows lengthen across the floor. He glances over at the clock on the wall to see if his suspicions are correct, and he gasps.

“Oh, my dear! It’s five o’clock! I didn’t notice the time! Oh, I do hope you aren’t late for anything!”

“Not at all. It was my day off. And I can’t imagine a lovelier way to have spent it than sitting here, talking to you.”

“That’s very kind of you to say.”

“I’m just curious,” Ryan says, gathering up his book in the brown paper bag Aziraphale supplies him, “what are your hours? I didn’t see them posted on the door. It would be nice to know, just in case my inner child convinces me to buy another book from my past.”

“This store is mainly a pet project of mine, so my hours are a little, shall we say, erratic ...”

“That’s adorable,” Ryan says.

“B-but …” Aziraphale stutters at the interruption “… I should be here tomorrow. Offhand I can’t think of any reason why I won’t be.”

“Excellent!” Ryan smiles, distinctly pleased as he squirrels his purchase behind him. “Then I’ll be back tomorrow. 2:30. Nice snake, by the way,” he says, pointing to a spot behind Aziraphale’s head. “Is it real?”

“Quite.” Aziraphale peeks over his shoulder, relieved to see that Crowley hadn’t slipped out of the bookshop and driven off without his noticing, but worried since he only transforms into a snake when he’s agitated.

And from the way he flicks his tongue, eyes wide, shifting uneasily in place, Aziraphale can tell he’s highly agitated.

That makes him dangerous.

“Constrictor?”

“Uh, no …” Aziraphale walks Ryan to the door, eager to close up shop and get things with his husband ironed out. “Red-bellied black snake.”

The smile on Ryan’s face drops straight to his knees. “Aren’t those venomous?”

“Only if they bite you. Thank you so much for stopping by. See you tomorrow. Mind how you go.” Aziraphale practically tosses the poor man out onto the sidewalk but he has no way of explaining to him that it’s for his own good. Aziraphale barely has the locks thrown when he feels the snake rise up behind him, transforming into the human form of his demon husband.

“Ssso, isss thisss going to be a thing now?”

Aziraphale sighs. He loves his husband. He truly does. But he can be so temperamental sometimes, even for a demon. “Why whatever do you mean?”

“Men dropping by your ssshop and making eyesss at you? Eating up all your time?”

“One man.” Aziraphale chuckles. “And my dear, people stop by every day simply to throw themselves at you. Do I bat an eye?”

“But I don’t care about them. None of them make my voice go all quivery like that man made yours.”

“I do admit that maybe I got a little carried away,” Aziraphale confesses, putting a hand to his flushed cheek. “See, I’m not use to getting that sort of attention. It was nice for the moment, but I don’t think it’s something I could handle every day.”

“Yeah? And why’s that?”

“Because I’m afraid I’m not very good around people. I prefer the company of my books and my music … and my ill-tempered husband.”

“But that’s the kind of bloke you fancy, right?” Crowley presses. “Someone who talks to you about books and music, and dresses in expensive clothes …”

“You dress in the most expensive clothes I’ve ever seen!” Aziraphale points out with an incredulous laugh.

“You know what I mean!” Crowley says, gesturing with a frustrated hand. “His clothes have … ffffwwwpppp … colors in them!”

“I see. Yes, I guess that does make a difference.”

“I knew it.”

“Ugh! Listen to me, you stupid old snake!” Aziraphale loops his arms around Crowley’s neck, forcing his eyes on him. “The bloke I fancy, as you so eloquently put it, is the one who’s known me my entire existence. Who drinks with me and goes out to lunch with me. Who fights beside me and stays with me, even when I call him ridiculous. Who comes back even when he threatens to run away.” Crowley’s eyes drop to his feet, unable to look at his angel while he’s being reminded of his less-than-stellar attempt to persuade Aziraphale to abandon Earth and join him out in the stars … which ended with his saying he’d go off on his own and never think about him again. “I don’t care if we don’t talk about books. It’s enough that you sit beside me while I read and hold my hand. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Why in the world would you think I’d want someone else when I have the best possible person for me already?”

“’dunno.” Crowley shrugs. “All we do is hang out here lately. I think, maybe, I was afraid you might be getting bored with me. That tying yourself down to a domesssticated demon might not be what you signed up for.”

“Bored with you?” Aziraphale snorts. “After 6000 years, you think I’d get bored with you now? You seem to forget that during the decades we weren’t together, my time was spent here. You were the one jet-setting around the world. By rights, I think you should be getting bored with me. With my life.”

“Oh, no,” Crowley says, sliding closer. “You, my darling, could never get boring.”

Aziraphale raises a skeptical brow. “You forget, I’m much better at detecting sarcasm now than I was 6000 years ago.”

“That wasn’t sarcasm.” Crowley snakes his arms around his husband’s waist. “I can’t think of any place I’d rather be than here, wasting my days with you.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that. But maybe it is time we take a vacation.”

“Yesss,” Crowley hisses happily. “Go to all the old haunts, relive the glory days.”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes. “Otherwise known as last month.”

“You pick first. We’ll go anywhere you want to go. We can pack up my Bentley and leave tonight.”

“Well, tomorrow night.”

Crowley grimaces. “Why tomorrow night?”

“Ryan said he’d be back at 2:30 tomorrow and ...”

Crowley grabs Aziraphale’s collar and (carefully) pushes him up against the nearest wall. He presses him there with his body, tries his hardest to be intimidating, but it doesn’t dim Aziraphale’s grin a single degree.

It never does.

“Not … funny … angel.”

“No?” Aziraphale’s gaze drifts to his husband’s lips the way it always seems to when Crowley has him in this position.

“No,” Crowley says, accepting the invitation of those baby blues and kissing his angel softly. “Not one little bit.”

“You can tell me all about it when we hit the road,” Aziraphale says. “And we’d better make it quick. We’re burning daylight.”

 ***Notes: Let me guys know if you want to see a part 2 where Crowley actually meets our dear Mr. Ryan XD

[rays-animorphs]

Book 5 Part 2: Hell is for Middle Schoolers

You’re relying on a bus and are only giving yourselves ten minutes wiggle room? Yeah that’s a terrible idea.

“Marco doesn’t believe in optimism.” Marco is right.

Lite. Ite.

I am having…some pretty unpleasant feels about how concerned the kids are about Ax, who is acting neurodivergent, looking “weird”. I mean, yes, of course they’re trying to not call attention to themselves, and around that age is the Peak Embarrassed About Everything zone, and also…it is bringing up all the feels.

I pass, or at least I pass as far as going to an electronics store is concerned.

It is bringing up all the feels.

I don’t actually know what the cost of masking has been to me. I remember once being surprised that it was possible for something I was interpreting as a subjective experience to have an effect on physical reality. Because I was so used to the idea that my subjective experiences were completely irrelevant and I should treat them as completely irrelevant. That my feelings and sensations were only real if other people thought they seemed plausible. That “I’m cold” was only meaningful if “it’s cold” was also true, and that any feelings I had weren’t, you know, valid unless they made sense to other people.

And here’s Ax and he doesn’t understand the purpose of clothing, let alone the importance these American humans place on being normal, and he’s not even trying to mask because he’s never been taught that it matters and … I don’t even know what kind of person I would be if I didn’t think that “looking normal” mattered.

(Besides, I'm pretty sure, happier, less anxious, less depressed, and more able to figure out a happy medium of expressing anger appropriately in between extremes of suppressing/isolating and expressing in destructive ways.)

And…we don’t know what the deal is with the kids, even though we’re getting all of their POV’s. This can be really hidden. You do it habitually, second nature, without thinking about it. Inauthenticity is something people learn in the time before memories. What kind of person would Secret Amazon Rachel be if she didn’t know in her bones that she has to perform femininity and niceness up to a certain standard all the time? What kind of person would “the comedian” Marco be if he knew he could fit in no matter how he talked and acted and if he could decide for himself if he thought Ax was “cute” even though he’s a boy? Who would Cassie be if she wasn’t so very careful about being “the peacemaker” and never the one who breaks the peace? Who would Jake be if he didn’t have to try out for the basketball team in order to get close to his brother, if he didn’t have to put himself down for having a messy room because he kept a piece of string in a drawer, if the rest of the kids weren’t forcing him into the role of leader?

Ax has cultural conditioning, obviously — warriors don’t show fear and all — but it’s very different from the humans’ cultural conditioning. And for him, morphing is perhaps an escape from being an Andalite in the same way that for the humans being animals are an escape from being human and having to play by the human rules. Mind your own business. Don’t confront scary guys who are creeping you out. Be small. Be peaceable. Keep yourself under control at all times. Ax hasn’t realized that just as Andalites have social rules, so do humans (maybe more social rules, it’s not clear) and if he’s going to pass as human to other humans he can’t escape, he has to be on guard, like a spy, like a soldier.

I don’t want Ax to be on guard. I want him to enjoy his human body and play with words and fall over a lot and get excited about being able to do somersaults…I want them to take him to a playground so he can go down slides and on the swings and on the monkey bars. I want him to get to enjoy doing things that Andalite bodies can’t do. I don’t want him to have to put on shoes and not act weird.

“So far. So far. Farrrr. Faaar. So. Ssso far so so so good.”

I think I need to take a break from reading.

[crysta-cub]

Crysta’s Lamia Experience: Pop goes the Lamia

We've moved into our new house, things are getting settled. Now who is leaving random Pringles cans around. Seems some trickery is afoot and mysteries to be solved as we welcome 3 new members.

(I figured I'd do my own adoption scenario with this one as I had something very specific imagined for the new members. Plus it gives @vex-bittys a break and a chance to read something fun, with a little sadness, but happy endings.)

AO3

Previous

I’m working on one of the last boxes of knick-knacks that I have collected over the years. Just things that felt to have meaning to me or just appeased my aesthetic. We’ve been in the new home for a few weeks now and definitely had a few misadventures. 

Third day in to living here, while I was starting to teach Munchkin how to swim in the big pool, Hero managed to accidentally fall in. Waves began to form as Hero thrashed about in a panic. I quickly got Munchkin out of the pool before shifting into a crimson red Dragon and helped Hero to right himself in the shallow end. Turns out Hero takes after his King lamia side and never learned how to swim. As a hatchling, Hero had a bad experience in a river, his heritage made swimming difficult for him and he feared drowning. I helped him out of the pool, using my dragon breath to help dry and warm him up. I nuzzled his cheekbone and encouraged him that there was no shame in having a fear of the water and if he was ever ready, I’d be more than happy to help teach him to swim. Maybe watching a few more lessons with Munchkin might help encourage him. 

On the eighth day, Eevee managed to bolt out of the house while I was out grocery shopping. I arrived home to a tale of Hero attempting to chase down the agile pup, who found a rabbit to chase after. Guardian and Moonstone attempted to call her home with treats and squeakers. Unfortunately Eevee’s focus was all on the chase. She nearly followed the rabbit into its hole. Hero managed to catch her, picking up the wiggly pup as she whined to get back to the rabbit hole. Both of them needed a bath that evening. 

On the tenth day, we had to instil a curfew for Guardian’s wandering. He got the whole household worried when he stayed out past midnight. It didn’t sit well with Butterscotch who deemed that the young Chain should go without dessert for the rest of the week. Guardian attempted to smoothe things by offering a shiny rock and a half wilted flower he found.  Butterscotch stood his ground and threatened to add another week. 

Butterscotch finally allowed the twins out of their room on the fourteenth day. Nightwish, the little red Honey-bo rode on Butterscotch’s back while Tempest rode on Alpha’s back. The pair showed their offspring around the house, the twins peeping and chirping in delight. There was a tense moment when it came time for the twins to meet Eevee, Hero having to hold the eager pup back so she didn’t rush at them with her enthusiasm. Once she got her sniffs in, she laid down and gave small gentle licks on the baby lamia’s heads, much to Butterscotch’s approval. 

After all the excitement, Butterscotch and Alpha had Guardian and Moonstone sit on the couch and gave them the opportunity to hold their little siblings. Tempest squirmed wildly in Guardian’s grasp, grabbing his face and the fur that lined his jack and pulling while Nightwish curled up in Moonstone’s arms, giggling at the face’s the Papython made. Munchkin was placed between the two pairs. He glanced from Tempest and Nightwish, eye-lights growing wide with wonder. Munchkin looked up at Hero and proudly declared “I pr-tect bro-ters!” 

Now here we are, the last box to be unpacked. As I’m putting a dragon statue onto one of the shelves, I pause and blink at the random can of Pringles sitting in front of the books. I don’t recall placing a can there, nor snacking on them recently. “Hero, did you have any Pringle recently?” He’s pretty much the only one who would be able to reach that height.

Hero slither’s around the kitchen island, donning his Hiss the Cook apron that I got for him not too long ago. He looked at the cylinder and shook his head. “I didn’t even know we had any.” 

I hummed curiously, putting my statue down before picking up the Pringle can, feeling some weight to it. I glanced from the can to Hero, back to it before raising my other hand and began to open the lid.

“raaaaaaar!” Out sprung out a Bitty-sized Coral, springing out of the canister much like those snakes in a can gag toy. 

I shriek, startled enough to jump backwards, tripping over a pair of my boots that magically appeared right behind me. Swiftly, Hero lunges forward to catch me before I hit the floor. The Coral laughs his fool head off, hanging halfway out of the can. I look at him in surprise until I hear another chuckle, causing Hero and I to look down at my boots. Sprawled out of the fallen boot laid a gently chuckling Bitty-sized Corny, looking very pleased with himself

I looked stunned at the two laughing comedians until a chuckle began to build. “There’s a snake in my boot!” I laughed out as the Corny gave me double finger guns. I hear another chuckle coming from the hallway and turned to revealed Guardian peaking around the corner, watching the show. 

“Guardian, do you know something about this.” I hold up the still laughing Coral in the Pringles can.

Guardian blushed at being caught, slithering forward with a sheepish smile. He was holding a long stick with something round tied up in some cloth at the end. “Maybe.”

I give him a look as Hero pulls me to sit on his coils. 

“don’t keep your momma waitin’ kid” the Corny comment, I never saw him move but he was just chilling on one of Hero’s coils. 

Guardian sighed, scratching the back of his head as he came forward. “Well, I was out in the woodsss when I saw a moussse and thought I could try hunting it. I followed after it asss quietly asss Alpha ssshowed me and when I thought I was clossse enough to ssstrike, I wasssn’t the only one to get him. The Coral sssaid it was hisss mousse while I ssstood firm that it wasss mine. We went back and forth that it was mine and hisss and then he sssaid it was mine and I accidentally sssaid it was hisss and he sssaid,”

“finally youssse sssee it my way” The Coral barked a laugh as I placed him next to the Corny.

Guardian nodded and continued to  “and he took the mousse. I was ssshocked and sssaid that he cheated. He then threatened to fight me for it, sssaid that he and hisss mate hadn’t ssseen prey in about a week.” The Corny waved at the mention of being the mate. “Ssso we ssstarted talking and the Corny came out of the bussshesss with a sssatchel.”

“he told usss all about ya all.” The Coral reached down to grab the satchel on a stick from Guardian. “he invited usss for a meal. maybe a warm place to sssleep for a night.”

“if it’sss ok with ya, i believe the kid called ya Crysssta.” The Corny leaned against the Coral. He peaked into the satchel and seemed satisfied by what he saw before pulling it close and curled his tail around it. 

“After I invited them we kept talking and came up with the prank.” Guardian mentions, swaying innocently. “Wanted to make a grand entrance.”

I looked them over, both lamias looked low on magic, even if they had a mouse meal before coming over. They definitely looked to be in rough shape for wild lamias. “I don’t mind you guys staying for a bit. Will have to talk to the others to make sure they are ok with guests.” I look up at Hero. “How do you feel about it?”

Hero glanced down at the two bitties. “I hasss no problem, ssso long as you don’t make Crysssta trip again. Or bring harm to anyone elssse here.”

“promissse no harm.” Corny crosses over his chest. 

“ssso long asss no harm comesss to usss.” The Coral positioned himself in front of both the Corny and the satchel. 

Hero smiled at that. “You’re sssafe here.”

I noticed the Coral relax a bit, glancing back at the Corny. The Corny returned a thumbs up and a yawn. “Guardian, help them pick out one of the spare rooms. I’ll have Moonstone bring some blankets for them. I need to go speak with Alpha and Butterscotch.” 

Guardian nodded and helped them off of Hero’s coils. Once they had gone down the hall, Hero helps me up and we both head towards Alpha and Butterscotch’s room. “Crysssta, I think they have…”

“Yea, I noticed it too. We’ll talk to Alpha and Butterscotch about it.” I smirked back at Hero, taking his hand as we entered the room. I knocked on the doorframe, letting the occupants know we were there. Alpha’s head peaked out of a nest, hood raised in curiosity before ducking back down to talk to the other adult in the nest. 

Both Butterscotch and Alpha emerged to greet us. Munchkin peaked from the nest, laying protectively around the smaller lamias, in a near perfect mimic of Alpha. Sleepy peeps could be heard from the blankets, warming both Hero’s and my souls, Hero squeezing my hand.

Not wanting to beat around the bush, I sit down in front of the two Lamias and announce. “Well, it looks like we have guests, Guardian found a Corny and Coral pair. They look to be in rough shape so they’ll at least be staying with us for the night.”

Butterscotch held up a hand, “at leassst?” He said suspiciously. 

“We sssussspect that they may have an egg with them. Their magic is low.” Hero informs the pair.

“Low magic isssn’t good for egg development.” Alpha filled in as I nodded. 

“I want to offer them a refuge, at least til the egg hatches.” I inform them. 

“You’ll get attached.” Butterscotch accused. 

“I won’t force them to live here. But an easy supply of food for a while could help them. I want to give them a fighting chance.” I pleaded. “But if they want to make this a home, the house is large enough, or they can continue to live in our woods and stop by for food when needed.” 

Butterscotch sighed. “this family isss just going to keep getting bigger, isssn’t it.”

“It doesn’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable. You two were my first lamias, the ones to begin this here family we have going. I’m not going to do anything that would make you unhappy.” I kneel down, rubbing Butterscotch’s back the way I know he likes. 

Butterscotch nods, leaning into my touch. Alpha takes Butterscotch’s hands in his own, thumbs working to soothe over his carpels. “We’ll check them out, play it by ear. Besssidesss, you alwaysss sssaid you wanted a big family.” He kissed the Honey-bo’s suddenly blushing cheekbones.

“i ment between you and me. back at Vex’sss, before all thisss. I’m ssstill getting ussse to Hero, no offence.”

Hero bows, “None taken.”

“And you can still have your big family,” I assured, “This land is plenty big, we shouldn’t see any crowding, no matter what happens.”

Suddenly there was a frantic rapping at the door. Hero rushes over to open it, seeing Guardian huffing against the frame. “The Coral… he… he collapsed.” 

I’m up on my feet in seconds, going around the room gathering monster candies, a few spare blankets and one of the extra heat pads. “Hero, go to the kitchen, warm up some broth and cut up some chicken for our guests and get the first aid kit.” Hero nods and heads out the door. 

Butterscotch shortcuts onto my shoulder. “i’m coming with. to sssee them myself.” He turns to face his mate. “watch the babiesss.” Alpha looked to want to argue when Butterscotch settles in a look. Alpha agrees and moves back to the nest. 

“Alright, Guardian, take us to them.” I walk briskly to the door.

“Mama Crysssta, don’t tell them, but I peeked into their bag, they have an egg in it.” Guardian wrings his hands together, looking every bit guilty.  

“It’s alright, we’ve guessed that to be the case.” I leaned down to pet his skull. “Which room are they in?”

“They wanted one that was towardsss the back, wanted a private ssspace.” Guardian began to lead me to the lamias. 

We rushed into the room, Moonstone is already in there, attempting to use healing magic on the Coral. The Corny is laid up next to him, trying to share his magic with the unconscious lamia with the satchel held at the base of his tail. I sat down next to them, petting Moonstone’s head to get his attention. “Thank you for trying, Moony, we got this now.” Moonstone nodded, wiping the tears that rolled down his cheekbones. 

Guardian rushed over and hugged Moonstone, using his sleeves to dry his tears before bringing him into a hug. 

The Corny looked up at me, hand rubbing over the Coral’s chest. “I don’t know what happened. he wasss fine one moment and out the next. Sssorry, don’t mean to be trouble.”

“It’s alright, we have everything to help him.” I plugged in the heating pad and placed one of the blankets over it, creating a nest. Carefully I pick up both lamias and their carry-on and place them on the warm nest. The Corny appeared nervous until he noticed I was cradling the satchel securely. “Don’t worry, I won’t drop your egg.”

“How did you…” The Corny sits up and pulls the covered egg closer, a bit of the shell peaked out of the satchel.

“I saw the glow earlier, Hero could tell as well.” I mentioned, noticing Guardian trying to hide his relief. “Before today, how long has it been since you both last ate?”

“just a few weeksss.” the Corny curls against the Coral. 

“it’s been longer than that, hasssn’t it?” Butterscotch slithers off my arm and onto the nest, keeping a respectful distance. “A lamia wouldn’t collapssse like this unlessssss it been a lot longer than that.”

“well, maybe.” The Corny seemed to curl in on himself, appearing lost in memory. “I know for me it’s only been that long, assside from the moussse Coral had given me today. he... he sssaid he ate already, both today and the last time he caught sssome dragonflies. but i’ve been sssuspicious that he hasssn’t, not sssince…” He hugged the egg like a precious teddy bear. 

Me and Butterscotch exchanged a look. “may i?” Butterscotch asked, arms wide in an offering of a hug, surprising me. The Corny looked up and nodded. Butterscotch approached and hugged the Corny. 

“i can’t lossse him too. i can’t lossse him after our Pygmy mate. it’s just too sssoon.” The Corny began to tremble in Butterscotch’s arms, who tightened his hold. 

Hero arrived with a tray and the first aid kit. I take both of them, glad to see that Hero had grabbed a dropper to help the unconscious Coral drink until he could on his own. I place the plate of chicken near the Corny. 

Carefully I lift the Coral up and dripped some broth into his mouth, half of which spills out and onto the blanket, the other half swallowed down, the glow in his soul brightens momentarily from the broth. 

“the egg, was it the Pygmy’sss.” Butterscotch broke the silence. 

“yea,” the Corny nearly choked out, watching as I continued to carefully feed the Coral. “it’sss the only thing that sssurvived when we were attacked by sssome hungry bird. I did my best to protect the nest, Pygmy and Coral were coming back from a hunt and Pygmy zipped over to protect me…” The Corny fell silent, my heart ached to hear the story. 

I felt Hero squeeze my shoulders. I fished out some monster candy and handed it to the Corny and Butterscotch. “This will help, I’m sure you’ll need a bit of a boost.”

The Corny’s sockets widened. “I haven’t had once sssince the collector’s” He takes it and eats it. “it’sss just asss good asss I remember.” 

“Collector’sss?” Hero asked. 

“we weren’t alwaysss wild. honessstly we kinda sssucked at it. Coral hunted better with Pygmy. Pygmy would chassse down the prey while Coral would wait for the prey to come close and dispatch it. we ate better, live better with him.” Corny reached out and grabbed the Coral’s hand. “honessstly, I haven’t heard him laugh sssince we lost Pygmy. it was Coral’sss idea to leave the collector, I think he blamed himssself for Pygmy’s de- death. sssure the collector feed usss and gave us tanksss to live in and kept them clean. but there was no love, no attachment. he even ssstole eggsss from wild bittiesss.”

Corny glanced over at Moonstone and Guardian, giving a lazy smile. “you two actually remind me of the one time, two hatchlingsss essscaped. the collector was ssso happy to have finally gotten a Chain, until the Chain broke out and ssstole a papython hatchling. they both sssqueazed through a crack. Coral got the idea to essscape after that. took sssome time to plan it. they would have been your age by now. ”

Moonstone and Guardian looked at the Corny with wide eyes and then at each other. 

“Guardian, Moonstone?” I nudge questioningly.

“Wasss that the ssscary place we left?” Moonstone asked, almost sounding haunted. 

“I guessssss. All I remember is my sssoul calling for you and telling me to run.” Guardian blinked before looking up at me. “Jussst like my sssoul told me to get you when Moonssstone was ssstuck.” 

I blink at the two, surprised. I remember asking them when they were younger where they came from and they’d either shrugged or said something about a scary place. Never in my imagination would I figure out where they’d come from and how they didn’t have parents. Someone stealing them would make sense. I wonder if Vex knows about this. 

The Corny let out a hollow laugh. “ain’t thisss a sssmall world then.” He sighed, now more being held up by Butterscotch as he watched for any change in the Coral. The Coral’s soul was glowing brighter, the heating pad doing it’s job to warm him up. 

“Corny, we want to offer you two and your egg a home, here, with usss.” Butterscotch began to speak, again surprising me in the best ways. “won’t need to hunt here, unlessssss you want to. you’ll be warm and sssafe and your hatchling can grow up here. already have two little buddiesss for him. what do you sssay?”

The Corny looked up at him, tears brimming in his sockets. “ssseriously?” Butterscotch nodded at him. The Corny looked at his Coral companion. “i... i don’t know if…”

“i’d like to ssstay ‘ere.” The Coral slowly opened his sockets and looked over at the Corny, a weak smile etching his face. “I can be ssso lazy the human will feed me.” 

With energy not known for a Corny, the said bitty launched himself into the Coral’s arms. The Coral gave a few low chuckles, carefully moving the egg so it wasn’t squished between them. After a moment of being hugged, the Coral pushed the Corny to arms reach and gave him a look. “do i sssmell candy on ya?” 

The Corny grinned at the Coral. “are ya sssayin’ i’m too sssweet for ya?”

“no way. i want sssome.” the Coral demanded. 

“Sure, but I think I’ll have to break it up for you.” I begin to dig one out. 

“oh, fu-oof” The Coral glared at the Corny who gestured to the egg. The Coral rolled his eyelights before looking up at me. “i want teh whole thing in my mouth.” 

I chuckle before explaining how with his low magic he should only take a little at a time. I hand the candy to Hero who breaks it into four equal pieces. I give him a questioning look, which he returns with  a dashing smile. I shake my head at him before offering a quarter of the candy. The Coral eats it greedily, belching afterwards. 

“Well, if you’re planning to stay, how about some names? I noticed you haven’t referred to each other by name, so I’m assuming you don’t have any.” Both shook their heads. “Got any ideas of names you’d want?”

The Coral huffed while the Corny patted his head. “nah, give usss your best ssshot kid.”

I give him an indignant look. “I’m not a kid.” I began to think… and think… and… nothing’s coming up. I sigh, flopping against Hero’s coil, leaning against his warm belly. Mmmm warm… noo, I have to come up with names. Soon enough I throw my hands in the air and spouted “Who’s on first, what’s on second, I don’t know is on third.” Butterscotch, Moonstone and Guardian chuckle, knowing that I’ll say that when I haven’t a clue.

Both the Corny’s and Coral’s eye-light widen at that and they proceed to perform the entire skit. They had us chuckling for a good while. 

“That’s perfect. Abbott” I point to the Corny “And Costello” I directed my finger over to the Coral. 

The newly dubbed Costello gave Abbott a cheeky grin, “heeeey Abbott.” He called out, a mirror of the line from Robinhood: Men in tights. Abbott chuckled and leaned in close to Costello before whispering “I hate that guy.” before planting a kiss on the Coral.

‘That was tooo cute.’ I mentally scream, I feel Hero chuckle behind me. Guess he can feel me fawning over the two new lamias. 

Once they broke the kiss, Castello gave Abbott a look then looked up at me. “hey, why’d i do i got ta be the dumb one?” 

Abbott turned Castello to look back at him, “hey, i told ya a million timesss, Cassstello was really the sssmart one of the two.” Castello seemed satisfied with that.

“alright, but i’ll only accept on one condition.” Castello really seemed ready to keep pushing for more things, even if he looked ready to go back to sleep. Abbott gave him a curious look. Castello glanced at the egg, then at me. “Sssure, we’ll be Abbott and Cassstello, but our hatchling getsss an extra ssspecial name. Our Pygmy partner…” He took a deep breath before continuing. Also was he conscious for the whole conversation? “ya sssee, he had thessse odd markingsss, looked like he had bushy brows and a stash. kept callin’ him Groucho fer it, he hated it… kinda. he alwaysss laughed after yellin’ at me. this egg, he’sss gonna be jussst like him. can feel it in mah bonesss. gotta name him Marx.”

I smile warmly at that sentiment. “I can accept that. A little Groucho Marx. I like it.” I lean forward offering my finger for them to shake. “Well, welcome to the family, Abbott, Costello and Marx. Curious, which one of you is the father?” 

Both Abbott and Costello looked at each other and shrugged, “don’t know,” Abbott said, yawning as he leaned into Costello “don’t care.” Costello finished, draping an arm over Abbott and tucking him in close. Costello looked up at me, “can I have more of mah candy?”

I chuckle and hand him the next quarter, the candy going down like the first, swallowed whole and followed with a belch. Abbott’s tail curls around Costello, the egg nestled between the two lamias. “I don’t think I have ever seen such a cuddly Coral before.” I teased, just couldn’t help myself. 

Costello huffed indignantly. “i don’t know what yer talkin’ about. i’m taking care of mah mate.”

Abbott nuzzled his chest. “he makesss a good full body pillow.” 

I smile, offering my hand to let Butterscotch climb aboard. “We’ll let you guys settle in. The chicken is for you guys, just take it slow so you don’t overwhelm your magic. Same with the monster candy. Feel free to ask anyone of us if you need anything.” I motioned for Moonstone and Guardian to follow before I grabbed Hero’s hand to lead him out. 

Hero caught Eevee before she could rush into the room to meet the new members of the household, picking her up as she wiggled and whined. I closed the door and turned towards Moonstone and Guardian, bending down to give them both a big hug. “I’m so glad that I found you two when I did. You two are just so special to me. Why don’t you two take Eevee out to play, she still has a lot of energy to work out.” 

Moonstone and Guardian nodded in unison before they each pecked a kiss on my cheeks. Hero set Eevee down and Guardian challenged the pup to a race. Before we knew it, they were racing down the hall and out to the fenced in backyard. 

As I straightened, I could feel Hero wrap his arms around me. I began to laugh, “Oh mah gawd, you all are just being super snuggly today.” I let him nuzzle against my head, raising a hand to scritch just under his chin. “Alright, as much as I love a good cuddle we still have one more thing to take care of. Let's go back to Butterscotch’s room.”

Hero nods and lifts me up in his arms. I sigh in amusement. I glance over to Butterscotch and rub his back. “Thank you, Scotchy, for inviting them into our family. That was very nice of you.” Butterscotch only nodded, wiggling when I decided to poke his side. “I though Alpha was suppose to be the leader of you guys?”

Butterscotch squirmed before giving me a sly look, crossing his arms. “only if he wantsss to sssleep on the couch.” He says as we enter his room. 

“What did I do?” Alpha perked his head up as he was handing Munchkin some meat from their mini fridge. 

Butterscotch smiled at him as I helped him down. He slithered over to Alpha before wrapping his arms around him. “nothing yet, love. but i’m glad you know when i’m threatening you.” He planted a kiss on Alpha’s cheekbones. “We’ve added three more to the family, I’m not letting them back out there.” Alpha gave Butterscotch a curious look. “i’ll explain later.”

Hero sits me on his coils as I dig out my phone, I dialed up Vex’s number and gave the Lamia Bitty shop keeper a call. “Hey, Vex, It’s Crysta. I wanted to let you know we had come upon a situation here at the new place. Guardian found some bitty sized lamia’s in the woods that were in rough shape. A Corny and Coral couple with their departed Pygmy’s egg. Apparently they were a trio before a hungry bird attacked and the Pygmy sacrificed himself to save them. It looks like they will be here to stay. We’ve named the Corny Abbot, the Coral Costello and their soon to hatch lamia Marx in honor of their third mate. Apparently the Pygmy had some odd markings that made him look like Groucho Marx.” 

I take a deep breath, collecting my thoughts. “They did bring up something concerning, They said they used to belong to a collector of some sort. They mentioned that the collector was somehow stealing eggs from wild lamias. I’m sure you’d want to find out about them. It seems the collector just gives them their base needs but keeps them like display items. I may have an idea of where this person is located. We think that the collector is why Guardian and Moonstone didn’t have parents or owners when I found them. The Corny remembered two hatchlings that matched them escaping before they did. All Guardian and Moonstone remember is a scary place they had to run from when they became soul bonded. I’m not too sure how far those two traveled before I found them, but the collector may live near that beach.” I give Vex directions to the beach and wish her luck. 

After hanging up I lean back against Hero, feeling him wrap his arms around me, Mmmm warm. 

Hero seemed to be in thought, before resting his head against my shoulder. “I wasss thinking about the ssstoriesss you’ve ssshared about Guardian. It ssseemsss he hasss a knack of finding lost sssoulsss.”

I chuckle and nod in agreement. “It does seem to be the case. Guardian, Protector of lost souls. Has a nice ring to it.”

“Oh ssstars don’t give that kid a bigger ego.” Alpha sighs

“Oh I think he’s deserved a little ego boost.” I teased.

Beyond the door, two young lamias have their heads pressed against the door, while Eevee lays nearby watching them, tail giving a slow wag. Guardian has the biggest grin and only stopped wiggling when Moonstone wrapped his tail around his. Moonstone presses a kiss against Guardian’s cheek before pulling him away from the door towards Eevee, decreeing that they did enough eavesdropping. 

It would be later in the night that Marx, a bitty Pygmy, decided to hatch from his shell, according to the proud parents, he’s the spitting image of their departed mate, same markings and all. Obviously I’m sending adorable pictures to Vex. Seems the hatchling was waiting for a safe place to hatch.

[quickspinner]

Second Chance - Ch 8 Epilogue (end)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

Luka grinned broadly at the screen, his guilt at waking up his wife overpowered by the affection he felt seeing her sleepy face peeking out of the blankets.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said tenderly. “Sorry for waking you up.”

“It’s okay,” she muttered, letting her head flop to the side. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, sweetheart. How’d your show go? I wish I could have been there.”

She perked up a little, smiling. “It went great, only minor hiccups and we got a lot of positive feedback on the new line.”

Luka sighed with relief and pride. “That’s great, baby, I’m so glad. I can’t wait to see the pictures.” 

“Yes, you can, but you’re sweet to say so. Now why’d you really call me in the middle of the night?”

He tried to control his smile. “Maybe I just missed you.”

It didn’t work. Even half-asleep, his wife was sharp. “Okay, spill. What’s going on.”

Luka bit his lip, and then let his smile spread over his face. “ Second Chance went platinum.”

“What?” Marinette screeched, launching up out of the bed. “Luka, oh my God!” 

Luka laughed. “Baby, where’d you go?” The screen went dark and the speakers went crackly. “Marinette?”

Luka rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat to wait. After a moment, the screen cleared and spun, and then Marinette’s sweet face was back. “Sorry, I knocked over the phone,” she panted. “It fell under the bed.”

Luka chuckled, propping his chin on his fist. “You don’t say.”

“Shut up, Luka.”

Luka did, smiling at her with soft eyes until she blushed and planted her face in a pillow. “Stooooop,” she whined.

“What? I’m shutting up.” 

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” Marinette complained.

Luka chuckled. “Maybe I do,” he agreed, voice low. 

“Damnit, Luka,” Marinette pouted. Then her expression changed. “So, wait, does this mean—“

“Yeah,” Luka grinned. “The execs approved the hiatus this morning and got the word to me this afternoon. No tour next season.”

He could see Marinette’s excitement, and he could see her struggle to suppress it. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

“I’m more than okay with it,” Luka assured her without hesitation. “You know that, we talked about this. I’ve earned a break and we want to start a family.” He touched her face on the screen. “And honestly, I can’t wait.” 

“I just worry,” Marinette fretted. “About what will happen when you’re ready to go back. You’ll have lost all your momentum.”

“I’m not worried,” he told her. “For one thing, there’s this little thing called a comeback tour that brings a lot of hype, and for another, I'll still be making music. I really don't think a year, or even two, is going to make that big of a difference. Still, Marinette, if my career ended tomorrow I’d have no regrets. I’ve got the awards, I’ve had chart-topping singles and two platinum albums, and if I never got to play on a stage again, I’d miss it, but I wouldn’t regret it. Frankly right now I’m sick of touring and being away from you, and a break sounds like the best idea ever.”

“You’re just saying that because you’ve been on the road so long.”

Luka ignored that. “I’m gonna finish this tour,” he said softly, “And then I’m going to come home to you and we’re going to make the most beautiful baby ever born. And I’m going to be there with you every step of the way.”

Marinette blushed deeply. “These things can take some time, you know. It might not happen right away.”

“That’s okay. I’m a patient guy.” He smiled. “Are you sure it’s me you’re worried about? If you’ve decided you’re not ready, you can tell me. I’m still taking the season off regardless.”

“I’m ready,” she sighed. “It’s just…”

“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t worry about every worst case scenario in excruciating detail?” Luka grinned, and Marinette made a face.

“Yeah, basically.”

“I love you.” Luka told her. “And if...something happens, and it turns out that we're just not meant to be parents, I still won't consider a single second I got to spend with you wasted. Okay? Now stop fretting and get some sleep.”

“I don’t know how you expect me to sleep after that,” Marinette huffed. 

“I have faith,” Luka chuckled. “I can see how tired you are. I’m sorry for waking you, but I didn’t want to wait and risk you hearing it from someone else.”

“That would have been bad,” Marinette agreed. “Although you know I never read the papers while you’re gone.”

Luka rolled his eyes. “I wish the papers were all we had to worry about. I don’t want you finding out because some reporter jumped in your face trying to get the scoop.” 

“Does Rose know?” 

“I think Juleka’s calling her now in the other room, so you guys can have a meltdown together later if you want.” Luka grinned. Marinette put her face in the pillow to hide a yawn. “Go to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll try to call at a more reasonable time tomorrow.”

“All right. You make sure you get some sleep too.” She sighed. “I love you. Be safe.”

“Goodnight, Marinette.”

Luka hung up the phone and walked out to the balcony of his hotel room to lean against the rail and enjoy the breeze. He felt a familiar light weight settle on his shoulder. “She isss right. You should sssleep.” 

“I will,” Luka said as the kwami’s tail curled lightly around his neck. “I just want to stand here and feel it for a moment.” He stared at the lights around him without seeing them. “How’d I get so lucky, Sass?”

“Hmm,” Sass chuckled. “It issss not all luck. There were many momentsss along the way where you could have made a different choice. Ssso it isss part luck, to bring a sssecond chance to you, part wisdom, to let go of the pain of the passst and be willing to move forward, and part courage, to accept the risssk of being hurt again.”

Luka hummed thoughtfully, and then straightened from the rail. “I need my guitar.”

Sass sighed, lifting from his shoulder. “You need to sssleep,” the kwami chided as Luka went inside. 

“I will. I just need to get this down first.”

“That’sss what you alwaysss sssay.”

[chromaji]

I’ve been recently getting into granblue fantasy, cygames’ big moneymaker. I started like a month ago because I was excited for the demon slayer collab they were doing, I thought I would drop it once I did the story stuff and got the characters but it’s really sucked me in. The story and characters are really fun and interesting, the gameplay isn’t crazy complex and is for the most part casual. Apparently anytime they do a collab, the collab units are entirely free and not in the summon pool. (Which is nice but they’ve never done a rerun of a collab so rip me getting the P5 collab units) I recommend it. You can play it in your web browser on your phone so you don’t even have to download anything.

I actually DO play GBF!! it’s just that I only play it once every third blue moon!! 😔🤙🤙

I usually only play when there’s an event that interests me. I of course haven’t played every single event, but yeah! Those are usually short, fun times for me!

One reason I dont play is that no matter what device I play on, the menus always feel so slow to me... So the amount I usually play is a bare minimum hggh

Another reason is that I feel sooo far behind that I never really know what to do when I log in.

I’m glad to hear you’re so into the game!! I always feel overwhelmed whenever I get into a gacha thats been out for a long time & has a bunch of stuff that I dunno about... 😅

And on the topic of story stuff/main story... yyyeah I couldn’t really get into it. And thats once again because I feel so far behind that there’s SSSO MANY CHAPTERS I’D HAVE TO READ... LITERAL HUNDREDS...

It feels weird to just skip all the early stuff because the later stuff probably wont make sense without it!! But I DID end up skipping all the early stuff with their story skip feature so now:

1) I have no idea what happened on the first like 100 chapters now

2) I havent read a single bit of the later stuff so now I’m doubly lost.

Sooo... yeah. I have a strange relationship with GBF. Its a positive one though!! Whenever I play I have a good time!! Its just. Yeah. I feel like there’s so much in that there game. Overwhelming.

[charlottemadison42]

Happy Snek Day!

~It’s still Snek Day for 3 more minutes in my time zone, so I managed a short lil fic!

++++++++++++++

Exile from the Emerald Isle - by CharlotteMadison, rated T, ~2300 words. CW: slightly snexy snake demon, disordered eating / religious fasting. Here on AO3

From Wikipedia: The more familiar version of the legend is given by Jocelyn of Furness, who says that the snakes had all been banished by Patrick chasing them into the sea after they attacked him during a 40-day fast he was undertaking on top of a hill.

"Wonderful work here, Aziraphale," trumpeted Gabriel with an intolerable smile. "Just what we'd hoped for."

"Just following orders," said the principality pleasantly, through gritted teeth.

Gabriel looked up into the misting rain and miracled himself a small canopy. He left Aziraphale outside of it. "We're really looking forward to all the good Patrick will accomplish, as foreseen. With your divine help and guidance, of course. Well!" The archangel clapped his hands together like a game show host and nodded as if to conclude their business.

"Ehm, if I may --" Aziraphale ventured. "Can we -- can he end his fast yet? The poor man can barely move."

They looked together across the stony windswept hilltop to where young Pátraic lay on his side, drenched, laconic and lifeless.

"Anhhhhhhh, he'll be fine," Gabriel said with a dismissive handwave. "Self-discipline is the path to sainthood! And we have very high expectations for this one. They accomplish so much more when they stop worrying about all that food and sleep and comfort and --" here Gabriel shuddered. "...Sex."

"Right, quite right. It's just that...he's not accomplishing much, at the moment, is he?"

"I don't see a problem. Joshua lasted forty days, why shouldn't that be the gold standard? Anyway. I'm off to see the Pope about a few things. This Vulgate project -- very exciting."

"It is indeed." Aziraphale nodded fervently.

"Stay dry now!" Gabriel smiled his brilliant empty smile once more, and vanished at last.

Aziraphale sat heavily on a mossy wet rock and wilted.

It was only day thirty-two and Pátraic could only wake up and move in tiny bursts. He drank water but could no longer get up to relieve himself, so his guardian angel kept him clean and moved between soft mossy spots. The wet and the chill were now clearly getting to the future saint in addition to the hunger, and he coughed when he had the strength to.

It was horrible.

Aziraphale kept fantasizing about taking him to a warm dry inn, tucking him in, spoon-feeding him broth until he was strong enough to take meat. It would happen any day now. Pátraic would make it. He was destined to. But what in Heaven's name was the point of all this --

"Sssss he gone?" whispered a familiar voice.

Aziraphale shut his eyes tight in exasperation. "Yes, Crowley. You can come out now."

Crowley had adopted a mid-sized presentation today, perhaps twelve feet in length. He gleamed black and red with golden eyes, brilliant against the emerald green hills. Raindrops beaded on his scales like stars or sea foam.

"Ssssso. A sssaint, is he? Going to do ever ssso much good?"

"He's a person of exceptional faith and charity," Aziraphale said, rubbing his temples. "I'm to watch over him for now."

"What if I'm sent to make him ssstumble?" Crowley circled the angel's rock slowly, reared up so they were nearly of a height.

"I'm rather more inclined to think you're supposed to be doing something elsewhere and you've come here to play upon my nerves."

"Who, me? Never."

Crowley's tail snuck through the strap of the knapsack lying on the ground and tugged it over. Its contents spilled out onto the ground: apples, jerked mutton, a round of cheese, a skin of wine. The cheese rolled several feet downhill before it settled in a muddy spot.

"Oopssssie," said the demon in a tone that made it clear he was doing exactly what he wanted to.

"Vile worm," grumbled Aziraphale. "What did the cheese ever do to you?"

"Tetchy, aren't we?" observed Crowley. "Is someone's corporation getting hungry too?"

Aziraphale snorted. "Not in the least. We don't need to eat. Why should I be hungry?" And he did a very fine job suppressing the tears of frustration that threatened to spill over at the smell of the poor chese in the mud.

Heaven gave him commendations for converting heathen chieftains who didn't really seem to need converting, especially at swordpoint -- but they should be giving him a commendation for keeping a straight face now.

"Sssso you're not hungry?"

"No."

"Not even a little?"

"As the last man you tempted during a lengthy fast told you: we do not live on bread alone, but on Her Word."

"And this is living, is it? What he's doing?" asked Crowley pointedly, sneaking up to eye level and fixing the angel with his golden gaze.

"What do you want, foul fiend?" Aziraphale summoned all his ferocity and held the demon's gaze unblinking. Crowley undulated hypnotically without looking away.

"Well. If you want the saint to ssstarve for another eight days, I suppose I want him to eat sssomething, don't I? I don't have direct orders but it would follow that I should try to feed him."

Aziraphale wished for a moment that Crowley would stop teasing him and present as a human again, both because he wanted to read his expression and because his lovely hair had been styled in such elaborate braids since he traveled east --

But he stopped his own chain of thought there. "Lovely" was not a word to be thinking about one's adversary's hair, no matter how it shone or flounced when he tossed it. And Crowley tended to take his serpentine form after he'd had a particularly difficult time of things. He did look marvelous as a snake. And he always seemed to fall back into his favorite tricks from way back In The Beginning.

"I know what you're trying to do, tempter of Eden, and it won't work. It is already decided that he will survive this trial."

"But will you? I haven't seen you so grumpy since you stained your favorite cloak in Kiev. You said ssssome rather unangelic things if I recall."

Unfortunately, having-had-a-difficult-time-of-things-recently also usually meant the demon was eager to spread the misery. So Crowley spent much of his time in serpent form poking at Aziraphale like a lamb on a spit. Presumably to forget whatever had lately frustrated and traumatized Crowley.

"That cloak was a gift from Aléxandros ho Mégas three hundred years before! I try to keep my things in good condition. It's another way of being frugal."

"Or vain." Crowley had no eyelids and very little in the way of cheek muscles, but he could still convey a smirk somehow.

"Do you want me to smite you, Serpent?" Aziraphale threatened, but he knew Crowley knew he wouldn't. He was a pathetic angel; all handwringing indignation, not a hint of divine firey rage.

Crowley hissed and backed away, and a moment later he stood there on two legs with copper hair, human (or at least human-shaped) in all his glory.

Glory? No, of course not, he was Fallen; this was the updated version of whatever his glory used to be -- splendor? magnificence? Ah, Aziraphale was spending entirely too much time hunting down the right words to describe his dearest enemy.

Crowley tossed his hair defiantly. Shine. Flounce.

"You understand what I'm proposing, angel?" he said, and his voice sounded different now, throaty, full. "Whatever you may want for the poor sod, you have to keep him starving til head office says when. I am obliged to counter you. I could do the opposite."

Aziraphale swallowed hard. He was thinking of Pátraic but he was thinking harder about Crowley's eyes. "Could you, then?"

"I would do the opposite. If you wanted me to." Crowley stepped a little closer and leaned down to eye level, just where he'd hovered before. Aziraphale's stomach protested nearly four weeks of hunger and the rest of his body resonated with the feeling.

"I'd -- I'd have to -- resist you. Try to thwart you," said Aziraphale.

"Ah yes, you'd put up quite the struggle no doubt," Crowley concurred, nearly purring.

"I'm stronger than you, you know."

"Perhaps. Depends what you...want. What we both want."

Aziraphale blinked rapidly and looked down at his feet. Starvation was muddling his thoughts. Crowley's burning eyes were muddling them more. "How could we want the same thing? We can't possibly. It goes against the order of creation."

"Angel," said Crowley, in a tone dripping with honey and wine. "You can't tell me you agree with Gabriel that self-discipline means eight more days of this?"

He gestured to the starving men before him.

A small whimper escaped Aziraphale's throat. Why was Crowley so close?

"You -- you'd have to...overpower me," murmured Aziraphale, mermerized now by Crowley's eyes.

"Overpower you?"

"I -- yes."

"I could."

"You could not. I'm stronger."

"Oh angel, I could." Crowley's eyes flared, sparked faintly, and shifted, just a bit -- he was a snake again. His tongue wavered up and down just an inch from the angel's nose, and then he retreated down into the heather and moss to gather his powerful coils together.

The next bit happened very fast, which helped Aziraphale forgive himself later for not doing something. Because (Heaven help him) he should have done something. He should have done something --

The Serpent wrapped the finest bit of his tail around Aziraphale's ankle, and then with a dash almost too fast to witness, he dove through the scrubby grass behind the angel's calves and bound his legs together with solid muscle and fluid spine. He circled ever so slowly, drawing his scales in a tight loop around both legs -- and then he darted between the rock and the angel again, redoubling his grip,  sliding slowly and smoothly in and out of a double coil that practically enveloped Aziraphale from the arch of his foot to his knee.

Apparently the angel's advantage when it came to corporeal strength was matched when Crowley took his original earthly form. No matter how Aziraphale flexed and struggled -- and the more he did, the more a strange tightness gathered low in his belly -- the unyielding weight of the black snake held him fast. They never touched. Never. And now he was feeling the demon's entire length beneath his heel, over his crossed shins. Crowley was never quite still, his scales always sliding, sliding slowly around Aziraphale's legs, rubbing in the hollows around his ankle bones and under his knees.

His corporation began to shake, and it didn't feel good but it didn't feel bad, and he wasn't clear on exactly what was happening but he hoped it wouldn't stop until he sorted it out.

Crowley rose to eye level again, still slithering ever so slowly around Aziraphale's legs in an unending lemniscate drag.

"We could cooperate, you know," said the serpent. "Momentssss like thessse."

"Never," gasped Aziraphale, but his voice trembled.

"Nobody would ever know."

"We would."

"But we might want the same thing."

"We -- we can't. Crowley, we can't."

"Sssso I should run away and let the saint lie in agony for eight days, then," whispered the serpent.

Aziraphale flinched. "You know I don't want that. You know I want --"

"What do you want?"

Aziraphale inhaled audibly and closed his eyes against the amber fire of Crowley's. "I want to resist you."

"Well then." Crowley tugged his coils a little tighter and stopped his relentless slide. "Shall I let you go?" he asked. "Or shall we struggle? Or do you yield?"

Aziraphale imagined himself looking up. Imagined struggling. Imagined yielding. What would it mean? What would happen? Hunger twisted his stomach. The muscles in his legs all tightened until he shook even harder.

But before he could answer:

"Palladius!" called Pátraic. "With whom do you speak?"

The poor starving evangelist, the former slave, the true believer, was trying to roll over and look at Aziraphale. But he could only really flail and flop at this point. Crowley released the angel, quick as a thought, when the emaciated young man laid eyes on them.

Pátraic's eyes went wide as saucers. With a surge of adrenaline he pushed himself up on his knees and pointed.

"Dragon! There's a dragon! Palladius, what unholy monster has you in thrall?"

"Oh dear. I don't suppose he's ever seen a snake before," muttered Aziraphale.

Pátraic lurched forward in an unsteady desperate lunge. He reached out toward them and seemed to focus his delirious expression, conjure a kind of energy at his fingertips.

"Jesus fucking Christ," shouted Crowley, backing away. "Can he do that?!"

Aziraphale stood up. "Wait -- wait, Pátraic -- it's all right, this is just a creature you're unfamiliar with, he won't harm us --"

"He spoke in the tongues of men! And he blasphemes! He is a foul demon from the very pit!" screamed the saint.

Aziraphale and Crowley shared a Look.

"I charge ye to leave this place --" Pátraic began, hand shaking, his voice a steady practiced chant.

"Can he -- can he -- can a human --" stammered Crowley, gathering all his length nervously as if tugging at petticoats.

"I don't rightly know," snapped Aziraphale, unaccountably nervous. "He has been communing directly with Her for several weeks now."

The exhausted saint was still reciting his furious exorcism, voice rising to a shout. "-- And go back from whence ye came, returning no more!"

With a small pop and the smell of ozone, Crowley vanished into thin air. Aziraphale jumped.

Pátraic collapsed into the springy heather as if dead. Aziraphale knew he had to tend to the poor man, but he couldn't help stamping his foot irritably with his first step.

It would be ages until he saw Crowley again. Simply ages. And who knew how long before he was a snake again, so much more comfortable tempting, so much more comfortable touching.

And what would they possibly have to say then?

[ultraviolet-phantom]

((this is an excerpt from an RP with NFWC, but it’s important enough to get a transcript here, it’s a bit long so it’s below the cut)) 

Echidna: hey Ritsssu

Ritsu would say "you've been acting a bit odd."

Echidna: how'sss that?

Ritsu would say "you've been talking about leaving, is something wrong?"

Echidna: this plassse is ssso BORING, there'sss nobody here

Ritsu would say "that makes sense, there used to be a lot of people."

Echidna: you want to come with me? work for sssomeone actually worth it?

Ritsu would quietly say to Echidna "sorry, but no. Don't tell anyone this, but I've heard rumours that there's an alternate version of this place where it's a bit lively and it's in the fusion au."

Echidna: that'ssss where I'm going

Ritsu would nod

Echidna: keep an eye on the bossss, sssomething ssseemsss up with her

Ritsu would say "I will."

Echidna: do you think I ssshould take the kid with me or no?

Ritsu would say "maybe get them somewhere safe."

Echidna: I'll keep them sssafe, don't worry, and besssidesss what kid doesssn't like a little exsssitement

Ritsu would nod

Echidna slithers over to where Lemon Drop is to tell them what's happening

Lemon drop would seem excited

Echidna: you want to go on an adventure?

Lemon drop would nod

Echidna: it'sss gonna be ssso much fun! you'll get to fight bad guysss and a bunch of other cool ssstuff

((Echidna is trying to manipulate Lemon Drop into thinking they're the good guys))

Lemon drop would seem happy and excited.

Echidna: oh, I have a quessstion for you, you don't have to anssswer, but isss there a reassson you don't talk?

Lemon drop would than attempt to speak, but it would just come out as bubbles.

Ritsu would say "if I had to guess, they'd need to be in water to talk."

Echidna: oh, well when we get to our new plassse you can have a nice plassse to ssswim around in if you want

Lemon drop would nod excitedly

Echidna: well for now, do you know how to write?

Lemon drop would turn their head

Echidna: if you can, I'll give you a notepad you can write down what you want to sssay in

Lemon drop would seem excited.

Echidna grabs a notebook and pen and gives them to Lemon Drop

Lemon drop would write down the word "hi"

They know a few basics, but that's about it

Echidna: what'ssss your name? I'm Echidna

Lemon drop would write down "Lemon Drop!"

Echidna: that'sss an adorable name for an adorable ssshark

Lemon drop would make some happy noises

Echidna: do you like piratesss? 

Lemon drop would nod excitedly

Echidna: well sssoon you're going to be like a pirate!

Lemon drop would make some excited noises

Echidna: that'sss the sspirit! and I can make you a little pirate outfit if you want

Lemon drop would happily nod

Ritsu would just walk away. She'll just be turning off for a bit due to cuteness overload

Echidna: we ssshould get going, it'sss going to be a long trip

Lemon drop would nod

Echidna picks up Lemon drop and slithers out, Bronze is busy having a mental breakdown, she won't notice for a while

~~~~~~

Bronze: hahaha! everyone's gone, I'm back to nothing!

it's clear Bronze hasn't noticed Ritsu

Ritsu would pat bronze on the back

Bronze: ahh! Ritsu! didn't see you there

Ritsu would say "you okay, boss?"

Bronze: of fucking course I'm not!

Ritsu would say "do you need anything to calm down?"

Bronze: I just need to regret everything I've ever done for a while, just go clean up the Rainbow Room and EXP farm for me, and maybe open the trap door to let in some fresh air, the corpse smell in here is making me nauseous

Ritsu would say "got it." And go to clean up the rainbow Room and exp farm, and once that's done, open up the trap door

Bronze: thank you, Ritsu, just asking, do you think I'm a bad person?

Ritsu would say "everyone has their reasons."

Bronze: well I don't even remember what they are

Ritsu would say "it is okay, boss."

Bronze: I should just break a rule or something, I don't want to deal with this anymore

Ritsu would say "that is a bad idea, boss."

Bronze: why? nobody will ever forgive me, I'm nothing but a monster

Bronze: and I don't want to remember any of what I've done

Ritsu would hug bronze, and say "there, there, it'll be okay." 

She's trying to comfort her

Bronze hugs Ritsu back, she's crying

Bronze: thank you for the reassurance but it really won't

Ritsu would say "we'll find a way, don't worry."

Bronze: I'm just a lost cause...

Ritsu would say "you are not."

Bronze: I've killed thousands and harmed even more, of course I am

Ritsu would say "you can always make a change, a new start."

Bronze: there's no way I could...

Bronze: I'm way past the point of turning things around

Ritsu would say "it is possible!"

Bronze: you think so?

Ritsu would nod

[emotionalsupportmanteau]

Anon, here is my response to your prompt. Sorry, I got a bit carried away.

Prompt: Snake! Crowley sleeping in cozy corners around bookshop and Zira not noticing until customers start screaming.

 After the Apocaneverhappened, the oldest of friends found themselves at the Ritz as was their unabashedly hedonistic wont, sat on the same side (oh the symbolism!), toasted “To the World” with the finest of champagne and then went home. Separately. I know. Sorry to disappoint you. Aziraphale muttered something about “inventory that mustn’t wait” and Crowley mumbled something about having a hot date with a cold bed and then blushing redder than his hair. The angel’s response was to titter and then utter an equally ridiculous “Good Lord.” Good lord, indeed. Wherever She was, She was certainly rolling her many celestial eyes.

 Later that night, an angel picked up books and put them back on the same shelf without even looking at the titles or admiring the beautiful binding and gilt lettering. The books were miffed and ruffled their pages at him but Aziraphale was distracted. You see, the whole thing had been rather anticlimactic as it were. And not just the part about the world not ending. He had thought—he was certain—something was going to happen. With Crowley.

But the dear boy seemed to be ignoring all Aziraphale’s quite overt hints! His lingering gaze should have been the tip off. Wiggling closer at the table so their sleeves touched. Sitting in the car outside his bookshop, sighing pointedly, waiting for something, for anything to happen. The Bentley was silent for once. It was up to them now. Our two conquering heroes had Too Much to Say and So They Said Nothing. Except “See you tomorrow, Angel.” Then Crowley peeled off, treating the streets of London like a video game. Tomorrow. There would be a tomorrow. That was something.

 Crowley had some thinking to do and a fair amount of self-chastising, but first he really needed a long nap. And he slept better in snake form. He was profoundly tired. It was all over and yet it was just beginning. The Alpha and the Omega and all that. Crowley took a breath and transformed into his reptilian self. It always seemed to feel better morphing from his human body to snake form than the other way around. The fancy black suit vanished, as did the sunglasses, and in an instant a handsome black snake wriggled happily across the smooth cool floor. Ahh, that’sss better.

But it wasn’t better. Crowley curled up in his Eden green linen sheets, closed his golden eyes but sleep eluded the poor demon. His creature comforts surrounded him: whiskey, whiskey filled chocolates, chocolate flavored whiskey, his secret plush angel, heat lamp on high, David Bowie’s greatest hits playing on his mint 1970’s turntable, but something important was missing. After an hour of shifting and slithering irritably in his soft, many pillowed nest he realized what was missing

Assiraphale.

He needed his angel. Can you blame him? He thought he was going to lose him three times and Three is a Very Significant Number: when the bookshop burned and Crowley couldn’t find him, when Satan showed up and almost permanently crashed Earth’s Party, and when they weren’t sure if swapping bodies would save them. He’s still a bit worried that he might still lose Aziraphale. Upstairs and Downstairs might be looking for retribution because an angel and a demon and a small boy spoiled their lovely war. Sandalphon, Gabriel, and Beelzebub were incensed. Aziraphale. He needed to see his angel. Right now. He would know what to do and what to say. His Azira was the only creature he had ever met who ever offered him true understanding and real comfort.

 An exhausted Crowley arrived at Aziraphale’s front door. He swayed in indecision. Should he knock or ring the ornate lion shaped bell? He didn’t want to be a bother. He was so tired. And it had taken an effort to change back to his human shape. He just wanted a nap. Crowley pointed his finger at the keyhole and mimed turning a key. The door opened slowly. Crowley and Aziraphale, sometime around 1942 had agreed that in case of an emergency, they could miracle each other’s doors open even if the other wasn’t there. Because really, who has time for keys these days?

Crowley felt dizzy. Where was Aziraphale? Oh well, he’d just sit down on his nice squashy brocade sofa and wait for him. There was a lovely fire crackling in the fireplace. Crowley stretched his weary, old bones and then changed into a snake without a second thought. Ahh, that’ss it. Sssweeet relief.

 Meanwhile, Aziraphale had removed his little gold glasses, put them in their case, and laid his curly sugar sand blond head down on a nice thick volume on Audubon. He was just going to rest his eyes for a moment. Surely, he had earned it after all they had done. Saving the world was hard work. He yawned loudly. As an ethereal entity, he simply didn’t get tired but found he didn’t have the energy to remain upright. A few minutes later, Aziraphale was sound asleep. He slept through Crowley’s quiet break in, slept all the way until morning. The Angel had Gone Native!

 The next morning dawned just like any other. Million of ungrateful Londoners had no idea how close they had come to extinction. Aziraphale woke rather well rested and quite refreshed, miracle the wrinkles off his suit and readied himself to get some freshly baked croissants from his favorite French patisserie. Chef Henri always set aside the choicest breads and pastries for his best customer.  So intent on his breakfast treat, Aziraphale didn’t see the snake curled around the ancient cash register.

Crowley was blissed out. Every spot he found to snooze in was comfy and smelled like his angel: a heady mix of Madagascan Bourbon Vanilla and a few centuries worth of rare book dust. It shouldn’t be the wonderful perfume it was, but it was to the sensitive and let’s face it, besotted snake. He grinned his snake grin (like a human smile, just more fangy and with a slightly indecent hint of forked tongue) and slithered off to nap on top of the Oscar Wilde first editions. Just friendsss, he hissed to himself, not bloody likely, Assiraphale, but supreme exhaustion overcame his righteous indignation and jealousy and he found his eyes closing against his will. He was just going to rest for a little while before he found Aziraphale and gave him…. gave him something.

 Aziraphale was pouring himself a perfect cup of Lady Grey tea to go with his generously buttered and raspberry jam laden croissant when he heard something he had never heard in his or any other bookshop: screaming. Excited screaming he had been forced to endure during the Blessed Harry Potter Years, but this was different. These were fearful screams. Human screams. Aziraphale raced to the front of his shop, worried that someone from Upstairs or Downstairs might be torturing one of his customers. For news of Aziraphale and Crowley, he was certain. They’ve come for us. We will never be free to live together! What? That’s not what I meant. I meant free to live in peace but not celestial harmony until the end of our days.

 There were three humans in the front of the bookshop, and they were indeed screaming. But there weren’t any annoying supernatural emissaries to be seen. An old man in a tattered raincoat was yelling “Snake! Snake! Snake!” and brandishing his umbrella before him. A uni student with half a shaved head and tattooed forearms didn’t look frightened at all, just bemused and continued to browse the occult section. A teenager with headphones slung around their neck, in a striped red and white jumper that was very Where’s Waldo?  stabbed their finger at Aziraphale’s bookcase of treasured gay literature and there He was. Crowley. Lounging atop Oscar’s Collected Works. Cheeky bugger. He would know that snake anywhere. What in heaven’s name was he doing here? And why was he in snake form?

“No need for alarm,” Aziraphale reassured the small group. “That creature is indeed a snake and he is my pet. My store mascot, if you will.”

Crowley opened his eyes and glared at Aziraphale as if to say Really? Really, Aziraphale?

“He won’t hurt you. He’s tame.” Crowley hissed and stuck out his forked tongue.

The old man and teenage Waldo jumped. The uni student said “Wicked.” Crowley bobbed his head as if to say Got it in one.

What do you want me to do? Aziraphale asked his serpent friend desperately with his wide Delft blue eyes.

You figure it out, Angel, Crowley’s amber eyes said and slithered over to Aziraphale, crawled up the shocked angel’s pleasingly plump side and wrapped around his arm. He was always much bolder in snake form. Ssso warm. Somehow I always knew you would be. Warm like ssstarss are warm. Crowley was afraid the angel could hear his thoughts. They were the ones screaming now. In ecstasy. Oh go-Sa- somebody. Help me here.

“I’m going to call Animal Control. You shouldn’t have a snake in here. Its revolting is what it is. That thing belongs in the zoo,” the old man bellowed at Aziraphale.

Crowley tightened his hold on the angel’s arm in fear and Aziraphale stroked his head scales gently. He had never touched Crowley in his snake form before. He felt cool and smooth beneath his trembling fingers.

“I assure you this is all perfectly legal, sir,” Aziraphale said through gritted teeth. “I will completely understand if you no longer want to frequent my bookshop. In fact, it is best for all concerned if you leave immediately. Since my snake is so distasteful to you. Try the Waterstones down the street.” The old man’s jaw dropped, and he sagged, as if all the fight has left him. Aziraphale took hold of his arm politely but firmly and steered him out the front door, closing and locking it for good measure.  

Waldo inched closer to Aziraphale. “If he’s your pet, what’s his name?”

“His name…hmm” Aziraphale leaned close to Crowley’s head and whispered “Puer Carissime,”in Latin, their old language though Love is the oldest language of all. As our two man shaped creatures were finally learning. It had only taken 6,000 years.

Crowley shivered in delight, then slithered up and around his neck, nuzzling Aziraphale’s left shoulder. Aziraphale felt a small bonfire happening in his body and cleared his throat several times before returning his attention to the inquisitive customer. “You may call him Genesis.” You see, Aziraphale had always been just enough a bastard and Crowley loved him for it.

“Genesis? Like the Phil Collins band? Me mum loves his music. I prefer The Arctic Monkeys myself,” said Waldo.

“Yes, my dear. The Phil Collin’s band.”  Crowley snorted which sounded like an adorable little sneeze. Aziraphale hadn’t the faintest idea who Phil Collins or The Arctic Monkeys were.  Bebop, most likely. Crowley would know.

“Wicked,” helpfully added the uni student and started humming the hit song “D is for Dangerous” under their breath. Aziraphale privately had the rather uncharitable thought that the young person must be smoking the devil’s lettuce. Crowley thought the same thing only he followed it up with the entertaining idea of what Aziraphale would be like if he smoked grass. He would just have to tempt him into it! Yes, groovy idea!  Capitol, as his angel would say.

Crowley nipped the angel’s ear gently and Aziraphale turned red as rhubarb pie. “My dearest boy!” he exclaimed. Crowley flicked out his tongue, licked his round cheek and proceeded to move downward and coil himself around Aziraphale like a belt. This is getting a bit inappropriate, he thought. The humans must exeunt. Before we lose all sense of propriety. He quaked in pleasure at that delicious idea.

“Alright then, Cro-Genesis is tired, and I have calls to make to book buyers so I will have to ask you both to leave.”

“Wicked,” said the uni student a bit gloomily and dropped the biography of Aleister Crowley they were holding.

“I wanted to pet him,” sulked Waldo, but they put their head phones back on and headed for the door.

“Maybe next time, dear. If Genesis gives his consent, that is.” Crowley shakes in silent laughter.

“How long is he staying?” Waldo asked, strangely voicing the exact question that the angel had been wondering about since he saw his favorite wily serpent in his bookcase that morning, looking as if he belonged nowhere else.

“That rather depends on him.” Crowley remained still. “I should like him to stay forever,” the angel said it all in one brave whoosh. Crowley loosened his hold on Aziraphale’s waist, slinked up to his chest, nudged aside his immaculate white shirt and pressed his snoot to his rapidly beating heart.

“It looks like he really likes you,” remarked Waldo with a smile. “Aw, I want a pet now.”

“Wicked,” the occult enthusiast agrees.

“Farewell, young folk. Come back another time.”

“Thank you, Mr. Fell. I’m Theodore H. Richards. I’ll be back. I am writing my doctoral thesis on the occult history of England throughout the ages and I have some questions to ask you, if you don’t mind,” the uni student said shyly.

Aziraphale’s jaw dropped. “Of course. What an interesting topic, Theodore. I am here to help,” he said brightly. Crowley thought, hmm, now here’ss an interessting human…Aziraphale won’t mind if we help them get top marks.

“Bye, Mr. Fell. My name’s Taryn. Rhymes with Karen. I can’t wait to tell me mum about Genesis. She’s in love with Phil Collins. It’s gross. He’s so old.”

Azirophale laughed at this and saw both his customers out the door.

 It was quiet. So quiet. It was just the two of them. After all this time. And when was someone going to say something? Do something? Aziraphale started to sweat and felt his heart about to punch through his delicate chest and run off if Crowley didn’t make a move. Then, “Close your eyess, Angel,” Crowley hissed.

Azirophale obeyed at once. He didn’t think it would be hard to take orders from Crowley.

Crowley quickly transformed back into his human shape.

“Open your eyes, Angel,” he said quietly.

Aziraphale opened his eyes and gazed at Crowley with more love than any angel had ever been able to feel. His beautiful Crowley. In a simple black suit that shimmered, reminding him of his snake form. No sunglasses. His gorgeous, expressive eyes of the oldest, richest yellow clay glistened with tears.

“Darling,” Aziraphale threw his arms around his beloved demon, embracing him with everything that he had.

“Did you mean it, Zira? Can I stay forever?” Crowley’s voice shook as he pulled him closer.

“Forever, my love.” Aziraphale cradled Crowley’s face in both hands, learning his friend in a completely new and wonderful way.

“L-love? You love me?” Crowley stuttered.

“I love you. I love you so much, my dearest boy. Puer carissime.” Azirophale stroked Crowley’s soft pomegranate hair.

“Angel, “Crowley kissed the crown of his dear head. “I love you, Angel. Have done since Eden.”

Aziraphale melted. “Since Eden.”

“We’ll make our own garden, Zira.” Crowley ran his arms up and down Aziraphale’s arms, setting off little sparks.

“And you will yell at the plants.”

“And I will yell at the plants,” Crowley laughed. “Zira?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve been waiting to try something for 6,000 years,” he growled.

“That long, my dear? I wonder what it is?”

“Bastard,” Crowley looked at Aziraphale’s rosebud mouth and bit his lip.

“Try it, Crowley. I promise I will like whatever it is,” he said coyly.

“As much as profiteroles?” Crowley said salaciously and licked his lips.

“Hmm, I don’t know. I rather like profiteroles. Let’s try it and find out.” Crowley surged against Aziraphale, his cock hot and hard against the angel’s soft stomach. Aziraphale gasped.

“You are quite naughty, you know, my love.”

“Demon,” he pointed to himself.

“I wouldn’t want you any other way. Though I don’t mind you in snake form. It felt quite nice having you- “

“Angel. Less. Talking.” They closed their eyes in unison. Crowley took a deep breath and pressed his lips once against Aziraphale’s. His lips so soft and tasting of sugar and salt. They rested their warm, damp foreheads against each other, their rabbit fast breathing the only sound in the shop.

“More, please,” Aziraphale drew close and said against Crowley’s lips so it tickled a little.

“Greedy,” Crowley giggled.

“You wouldn’t want me any other way.”

“That’s true. Since you asked so nicely.” Crowley slung his arms around Aziraphale’s neck and kissed him properly this time. Aziraphale’s mouth opened like a flower to admit Crowley’s tongue, stroking his until every cell in his body filled with sunlight.

“Crowley, my dearest boy,” Aziraphale murmured between deep kisses that nourished the parched earth inside him. “I am yours. Everything I was. Everything I am. Everything I will be.”

“Zira,” Crowley groaned into his nectar sweet mouth. “As I am yours. Everything I was. Everything I am. Everything I will be,” he repeated like a mantra. His breathing hummingbird quick. “Zira, angel. I want- I want to touch you. Every part of you. I want to be entwined with you. So I don’t know where you end, and I begin.  As if we were the only two in the world.”

“We are, Crowley. This is Our World now. We create it. And we begin and end together.”

“Yes, my love,” Aziraphale kissed him like he was saying an oath, and perhaps he was. He took Crowley’s lovely, slender hands and pulled him in the direction of the bedroom where he resisted the urge to miracle something better than his 19th century iron sleigh bed with threadbare lace edged sheets. Crowley didn’t want perfection. He just wanted him.

“Let’s go to our garden, darling. Together, I do think we could help it grow.” Crowley bowed his head like it was a willow tree heavy with sudden, life giving rain, kissed Aziraphale’s hand and followed him through the unassuming wooden door with the old-fashioned glass knob and into eternity.

[thewritewolf]

Marinette March Day 12 - Kwami Mom

Marinette has a different style of Guardian-ship than Fu.

@marinettemarch

Enjoy!

Start | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Read on Ao3

Closing the trapdoor behind her, Marinette reached behind her neck and unfastened her necklace. The pendant turned back into its familiar fox tail shape as she placed it back in the miracle box, soon followed by a hair band and a thumb ring. So far, no one at school had noticed her extra accessories. Or at least no one had really commented on them.

She’d been afraid at first that the past holders would recognize them, even if they looked different when she used them. But nope, despite Alya complimenting her fox miraculous, she didn’t seem to recognize it at all.

One thing she had noticed after talking with the kwamis was their endless curiosity with her world. They were amazed by little things like markers and keyboards. The first week of her newfound guardianship had been panic-inducing as she tried to tame their wanderlust. It was only after a passing comment by Roarr that she realized why they were so fascinated with the world.

“It is impressive how far paintbrushes have come!” She had said while opening all of Marinette’s markers. “And these, which require no paint at all!”

Almost all of them hadn’t been back in years. A lot of them hadn’t had a new chosen in decades. And a couple unfortunate kwami hadn’t seen the world in over a century. Of course they were soaking it all in while they could! They had no idea when they would get to see it again!

The deal was pretty simple - so long as they behaved themselves, Marinette would take a few of them out every day so they could go out in the world and see what all had changed. Plus, just like now, she would activate all the miraculous so they could all play in her room at once. Usually, this wasn’t much of a problem - no kwami was more unruly than Plagg and level heads prevailed in her room.

What she didn’t account for was the kwami gossiping.

“That Chloe! I knew she was bad when she kidnapped us, but she is such a brat on top of it,” Stompp, the bull kwami, said. “Its such a casual viciousness as well.”

“Well… yes, but I still believe she has potential,” Pollen replied. “I just don’t know how to break her bad habits.”

“It made my heart soar to see miss Alya again.” Trixx rubbed her hands together. “Ah, the adventures we could have had.” She floated over to Marinette. “Are you sure Rena Rouge can’t make an appearance sometime soon?”

“Sorry, Trixx,” Marinette said sadly. “Not for a while at least. Hawkmoth will be watching her.”

The kwamis who had been paired with her friends in class were the most excited about getting to go to school with Marinette. It was another thing that she had learned about them - they bonded with their chosen incredibly quickly. Marinette narrowed her eyes in determination. All the more reason for her to choose good partners for them.

“I’m jussst happy to see my once-massster is doing ssso well,” Sass chimed in, his arms folded in front of him as he floated cross-legged. “Adrien wasss a good chosssen for the brief time we fought. Though I believe he is better sssuited for another…”

Marinette’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Adrien.

“Now there is someone famous and noteworthy,” Kaalki said. “Max was a dear, of course, but if I had to choose a second chosen…”

“Speaking of people he’s better suited to…” Mullo turned to Marinette. “So when are you going to ask him out, Marinette?”

The other kwami began speaking all at once, wanting to know what her plans were for Adrien.

“If he isss worthy of a miraculousss, then he would be a worthy sssuitor for our guardian, sssurely?”

Her eyes widened as the others murmured in agreement. Thankfully, she was saved from replying when Tikki zipped in front of her.

“Hey! Leave her be.” Tikki’s voice cut through the chatter. “You can’t rush these things. They’re both still young and figuring things out.”

Marinette sighed in relief.

“Besides, she gets all tongue tied around him. It's cute, but it doesn’t help.”

“TIKKI!”

[ours-is-the-fury]

By The Moons I Honour Thee

Contains: SWEARING, VIOLENCE, POSSIBLE NSFW CONTENT

CHAPTER 3...

10 years ago,

Jules had to move faster.

It was only a matter of time before he would be detected. The lack of security cameras was a plus however; he had done harder jobs than this before. Even so, infiltrating a Sycorax ship was not his idea of fun, and he wanted to get this job done as soon as possible. Jules peered around the corner and spied two walking towards him. They were armed only with swords and seemingly engrossed in conversation. Jules fitted a silencer module to his Alpha Meson blaster and strode around the corner. The Sycorax’s masks gave no emotion but the tilt of the head was one of surprise, right before two silent red laser bolts burned holes between their eyes. Jules moved swiftly past the smoking corpses and toward the far door, which according to his holomap was the entrance to the prison cells. The door slid open with a press of the big red button and revealed the mass of slaved being transported. The guards turned towards the opened door but were gunned down by more precise laser bolts before they could draw their swords. Looking out over the sea of prisoners he could see numerous different species: Humans, Raxacoricofallapatorians, the bug-like Uvodni and even an Ice Warrior.

              “Computer, you listening?” Jules asked.

“Always Captain. What do you require?”

              He crouched down, searching the Sycorax bodies for keys. “There are over two hundred prisoners here and we can’t transport that many.”

“I will send out an alert to the Church. Perhaps they can send a cruiser to assist.” Her flat voice was hardly reassuring.

              “Knock yourself out, I’ll do what I can here.”

“Knock myself out…do you mean I should shut down Capt-”

              “No, Computer! It’s a figure of speech.” Jules sighed, and began unlocking the cells.

“Okay Captain…I shall send that alert now.” The far door opened and two Sycorax marched in. They drew their swords, but too late, as they fell under a mass of shouting bodies. The ex-prisoners were spilling out into all the corridors and hallways of the ship. Jules noticed an Ice Warrior still sat at the back of the cell and ran over to her.

              “Come on, we need to get moving before they get the riot under control,” he said to the Ice Warrior. “What’s your name?”

“Rakara…” she said after a few moments pause. “It’ssss too hot in here. And my cooling ssssystem wassss damaged when they captured me.”

              “Hold on one sec.” Jules rummaged around in his coat pockets. After a minute he pulled out a sonic probe, “This should fix the circuitry.” The probe was about fifteen centimetres long with a forked end and the tips of the forks glowed green when activated. Jules had traded it for an old love letter the last time he was at the Rings of Akhaten’s market, although he had to admit it wasn’t his love letter, but one he’d liberated for just that sort of eventuality. The only thing Jules really cared about was his ship and his sword. Two things he could not part with.

              “Is that better?” Jules asked, pocketing the probe.

“Muchssss, thank you.” She stood up, a little unsteady, “What isss your name?”

              “I’m Jules, now please take my hand.”

“Whhhy, I can walk fine.”

              Jules laughed, “It’s not about walking. We need to teleport off this ship onto mine and I’ve only got one relay. So please…” he held out his hand, “trust me.” Rakara stared at him through the deep red lenses on her mask, before reaching out and taking his hand.

              The familiar metallic tang filled his mouth and they were back on the Selene. Rakara was looking around, her head tilted to the right. She’d probably have a confused expression if he could see her face.

              “How…how are we following the Ssssycorax sssship? It’s at warp.” she enquired eventually.

“This ship has a powerful tractor beam, but in this instance, I’m using it as a tow rope, keeping us anchored to the ship. It jumped to warp and we followed.”  She nodded and sat down, looking out the window into the blue streaks of the warp field.

              “Why me?” she queried, “why ressscue me?”

“Because I was asked to. Your mother reported you missing and the Empress usually gets her way. But I won’t take you back if you don’t want me to.” He sighed and sat in the pilot seat, “While I was tracking you down, I realised you wanted to get away. You joined this life of excitement and adventure to escape from the boredom of court life and being the daughter of the Empress. Not that the life of a royal Ice Warrior could be entirely boring. I imagine you’ve seen battle before.”

              Rakara’s head dipped a little. “Not exactly. My mother hassss made usss a pacifissstic race. We no longer ssseek bloodshed, we no longer write poemssss of war.” She made a noise which Jules took to be a sigh. “All I wass able to do assss a Shsurr was sssing and entertain.” She took off her mask, revealing her beetle-like crimson eyes and dreadlocks draped over her shoulders.

“Then I won’t take you back.” Jules said after a moment pause. “You don’t want that life and I can give you a way out that doesn’t involve Sycorax slavers.”  

              “But if you do not return me to my mother, will sssshe not be angry?”

“I imagine so…would she send her own soldiers after us?”

              A nod. “Mossst likely. Do you fancy ssspending the ressst of your life looking over your ssshoulder?”

Jules smirked. “Do you?”

              It was then that he witnessed a smile from her – likely her first true one in a long time. “Sssounds like fun, I will join you. Ssso where ssshall we go firsssst?”

“Woman Wept is nice this time of year...” Jules offered

              Rakara walked over to the controls, “We sssshould probably disssconect the tractor beam.”

Smart. “That switch there.” Jules pointed to a switch above the windows, Rakara smiled again and flicked it.

The Selene dropped out of warp with nothing to latch onto anymore, did a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree flip and leaped straight into a slipstream tunnel…

 *****

 Present day…

The Selene dodged and dived through the laser fire, chased by two Cyberfighters. The Chula Warship skimmed the surface of a Sontaran command ship, flying up through the claw-like arrangement at the top of the ship. The Selene pulled a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree flip and opened fire with its triple cannons, shredding the Cyberfighters.

              “Computer, how isss Julessss’ condition?” Rakara questioned, swinging the Selene round the back of a Sontaran ship, out of the line of fire.

“His condition seems stable; analysis shows he suffered from a severe panic attack.”

              “A panic attack? What causssed it?” Rakara hurried over to her bunk in the cockpit where Jules was lying, muttering and shaking. “Could it be the Cybermen? Ssssome sssort of reawakened memory?”

              The cool, formless voice replied, “It is possible. He may still have a connection to the hive mind. If so, being in this close proximity could have reactivated it. Recommendation: vacate the area immediately.” The Computer shut off. Rakara got back into the pilot seat and flicked the switches to begin the Slipstream engine spooling up sequence.

 *****

 Meanwhile in Jules subconscious…  

              This was a memory, it had to be, Jules thought to himself. He wasn’t back here, he couldn’t be. The shiny silver interior of the spaceship was spotted with blood as the Cybermen rushed to upgrade people captured mid-battle. Jules was trapped in a line of people waiting to be converted. The ship was one big factory for conversion; it would loiter at the edge of a battle and latch onto the damaged ships with a tractor beam before teleporting everyone onto the Cybership to await conversion.

If this is a memory, can’t I just break out?

              “Jules!” he froze, the monotone, lifeless voice of the cyberman stopped him mid thought. “You must re-join the Legions! We do not give up what was ours. Join us. Join us. Join us…”

 *****

 Back in reality…

Jules awoke on the floor of the Selene in the midde of Rakara throwing the ship into all manner of evasive manoeuvres.

              “What is going on, Shsurr?” Jules shouted to be heard over the sound of the engines at full throttle.

“Cyberfighterssss!” She hissed back. “I think they decided we were a better target than the Sontaranssss.”

              Great. “Computer!” Jules yelled.

“Yes Captain?”

              “Remind me to install rear-facing weapons.” Jules walked as best he could over to the cockpit. Out of the window was pure destruction - the wrecked hulks of star ships littered the battlefield and the few remaining ships were trading shots through the thick wreckage. “Rakara, fly past the front of the nearest Sontaran ship. Try and get its flank guns to take out our pest problem.” Rakara nodded and weaved the Selene through the debris field, towards the remaining Sontaran ship. Jules jumped down to the cargo hold, ran over to the cloaking device and began his attempt to fix the system.

The Selene sped through the floating remnants of ship, scattered armour plating and dead crewmembers, all the while dodging the Cyberfighters’ laser bolts. Rakara threw the ship into a dive to port down through the remains of a Cyber Carrier’s hangar bay. The Cyberfighters tried following but one lost control, slamming into a wall and exploding, taking a second with it. The final fighter stuck to the Selene like tar until it followed the Chula warship past the Sontaran ship and a stray laser bolt cut it in two. With a hum, the cloaking device came to life and the Selene faded from view.

              “Rakara, take us above the battlefield.” Jules commanded, ascending back up to the Cockpit.

“Of coursssse. Are we cloaked?”

              “From all sensors and visual receptors, yes. Now let’s see who wins thi-”

“Captain!” The computer’s electronic voice cut over him. “There is a new ship leaving FTL.”

Between the remains of the Sontaran and Cyber fleets a ship emerged from a blinding streak of light. The ship opened fire in both directions and the two fleets exploded.

              “That can’t be.” Jules gasped, turning white.

“What issss it?” asked Rakara, confused.

              “It’s the SS Pentallian…”