#I'm fic anon btw

[toxintouch]

hii!! I just read cold spots and it was AMAZING!!! Im not sure if you wanted to continue the fic, but if you don’t mind could you continue with Veres part? I don’t know what you would write about but I just feel like that fic has so much potential to be a little 3 part series or something 🙏

<- Cold Spots TYSM ANON!! I put the Vere End at the beginning for ease of reading. For the sake of folks who would like to read this as a stand-alone... I think u can? With the knowledge that the premise of Cold Spots is that Mhin and MC/Sparrow went ghost hunting. Vere is said to have been responsible for a handful of local ghost stories, so…of course he makes some mischief.🦊 Also MC needs some Winter wear, stat.  A very light Possessive Vere warning in this btw, though perhaps in a roundabout way.  Plausible deniability is so important to him.

You putter around in your room at the Wet Wick as you go about your nightly routine. The occasional cheer or thud from below only accentuates your nervous energy, punctuating your reluctance to settle down and get into bed. You smooth the covers with your bandaged hands and fluff the pillow before extinguishing the lamplight. You tug the bedding up above your shoulders, fighting to get comfortable. As your eyelids finally start to droop, the flicker of a shadow catches your attention.   It dances and sways and bends and grows until suddenly it is right in front of you.  On top of you. Silken, blood red drips down onto your face, a knife gleam smile too close for comfort.  You breathe in a gasp, wondering if you should scream. “Vere, what–” “Shhh,” he coos, pressing a finger lightly to your lips.  His breath is hot against your skin. “I only came to keep you warm, pet.”

Heat Signature

“Poor thing.” Vere purrs.  “Your lips are so cold.”  He leans ever closer, his mouth hot over yours–hovering.  His other hand reaches for your face as well, nails trailing against your cheek in a teasing caress.

You feel even the thought of being cold leave your body, replaced instead by the unusual thrill he commands, that strange enthralling sway.

That heat you’ve come to associate with Vere; sweet tendrils of want that nestle in your bloodstream.

You squirm a little, though you can’t move much with him looming over you.

(You should probably do more to protest his intrusion into your room, you think to yourself, though, the majority of you is–curious, daresay even far too eager to–)

“Whatever trouble did you get up to that left you in such a state?”

At this you scoff, tilting your head back into the pillow and effectively knocking Vere’s finger from your lips.  

“As if you don’t know,” you accuse.

Vere looks entirely unperturbed by you shaking him off, his lithe fingers traveling freely along the newly displayed skin of your throat, making your pulse jump.

Vere chuckles at that, dark and silky.

“Being tight lipped about your adventures, hm?”  He angles your face just so, ensuring you meet his sharp eyes, his nose brushing up against yours.  “Not that it matters.  It so happens I do know what you’ve been up to.  Trespassing in places that don’t belong to you.”

“...It was an abandoned building.  I don’t think it really belonged to anyone.”

“And that’s where you’d be wrong,” Vere says, “everything in this city belongs to someone, darling.  You just don’t know what belongs to who yet.”  He peers down at you with laughter in his expression, though there's a distinct edge to it that you can't quite place.

“So, you're here because that building belongs to you...?”

“Hmm, amongst other things.  However shall I make you apologize to me for this most egregious offense?”  He asks airily, shifting until he’s beside you rather than perched over you, resting his cheek in his hand and letting his eyes slip closed. He's the absolute picture of unbothered leisure.  

(You’re not fooled–he’s simply waiting for you to let your guard down before he pounces.)

You open your mouth to deny any debts on your part (though, if your ghost hunting spot was indeed Vere’s hideout, you really do feel guilty) but Vere cuts you off before you can speak.

“Alas, I suppose it’s not mine anymore.  Within a week it will reek of wet dogs and cheap booze. It's a lost cause now that those drooling reprobates know it's inhabitable.  A pity.  By Eridia's standards it really was divine in its heyday.  Good wine, music, dancing.  There was this portrait artist who would paint the performances…”

His tone remains light as he reminisces.  But the look he pins you with is dangerous: his eyes gleaming bright, his canines bared in an irreverent grin.

“I had such hopes and dreams of reviving the place myself.  Some of the dances were very scandalous.  You never did share with me your stance on dancing, did you?”

You stumble out an approximate answer.  It’s…harmless information to give, isn’t it?

Though, judging by how pleased Vere looks, you wonder if you should have refused to say.  He looks positively wicked as he ponders your answer aloud.  “Oh, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of talents to share.  In another life, perhaps I'd have put you on stage.  Though, I admit.  I find myself partial to a private show.”

And–as expected–the moment you let your guard down, he's in your space again, crowding you.  Heat and proximity and the softest brush of his lips against yours, light enough to send a thrill down your spine, curiosity and a want so deep it surprises you.

“Well?”  He purrs.  “Care to audition?”

You can't hide behind the excuse of supernatural sway or charm or the thrall of hypnotic sunglo eyes.  It's not Vere's power that controls you. It's your own gnawing desire; starvation and longing that draws you to him despite all sense.

Kissing Vere is heady.  Dizzying.  

Kissing Vere is like being in conversation with Vere–a constant of giving and taking, being chased after and running to keep up.  It’s enticing and alluring and decadent and never quite enough, over too soon even as you feel yourself losing air, the rush of blood and sensation threatening to overwhelm you.

He gives a parting nip to your bottom lip as he pulls away.

Then another one, playful, to your jaw.

When he presses his face into the side of your neck, you expect him to bite again.

What you don’t expect is for him to nuzzle into you, inhaling deeply before heaving a great sigh, his tail flopping lazily to land across you with a thump.

He’s officious as he rearranges the covers, ensuring your arms are tucked carefully away from him before he’s willing to fully settle into the bedding, pulling the blankets up around the both of you like a den.  He hums something low in his chest as he tucks himself up alongside you, long tail curled around your waist. 

It’s rhythmic–

purring.

And it’s…soothing, actually.

The weight of him, the warmth.  The incessant lamplight of the Amaryllis District, shining ever present through your window, is dim–tolerable, even, courtesy of Vere's magnificent shadow manipulations and the blankets sheltering you. 

The constant noise seems to fade away as well, obscured by the sound of purring. “Falling asleep when you have me in your bed, pet?  You really do try your luck…”

[necrotic-nephilim]

in lieu of having posted any writing/headcanons/asks in the past few days because i have been *so* busy and unable to do anything fandom-related which is terrible and evil, i have a poll out of morbid curiosity and self-indulgence. i've been meaning to ramble here about how i feel about DC's lack fo Deaf representation and which Batfam members i would personally make Deaf, but i am mildly curious about the larger opinion and now i will subject you all to the question, i would love to hear thoughts/opinions/headcanons on any specific choices. (would love d/Deaf/HoH opinions esp but i'm mostly expecting this to reach the hearing crowd, so opinions from hearing ppl are ones i'm very curious about. if you've never given it thought before you are going to now or else /lh)

[tachimichishrine]

ppssps..hey bae 😍😍😍❤️❤️🙈🙈🙈

cute and sexy request!!! IF YOU COULD WRITE A MISTLETOE CONFESSION FOR TACHI x READER THANKS U I LOVE UR WRITING KEEP GOING AND FEED ME ALL THIS TACHI CONTENT AS ALWAYS🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

heyyy babygorl 🤪😳🥵🥵😻🙉🙉 oh my god this is indeed extremely cute and sexy, just imagine...

tachihara around the holidays, a sense of nostalgia for something that never existed as he watches families with shopping bags in their arms. they look happy in the way he'd never felt with his own, and it's got him looking down for most of the season.

tachihara catching himself staring at you for too long, watching you give small gifts to the other members of the black lizard, even speaking with the nameless suits about their plans with their families like you really were a goddamn angel.

tachihara daydreaming about you in the middle of missions, distracting himself with the thought of you to the point where he accidentally bumps into santa cosplayers and has to threaten to beat them within an inch of their lives as soon as they start singing carols merrily at him.

tachihara who is stupid in love, head over heels even before you started asking him about his holiday plans and he begrudgingly admits that he doesn't talk to his family; you pouted sadly and promised that you'd try to make up for it, whatever that was supposed to mean.

tachihara strolling into his office, finding a small box of chocolates wrapped in a red ribbon with a note saying "from santa", even though it was obvious who it was from. it took him a while to stop blushing before he could stash the box in his pocket and pretend like he didn't just get shot by cupid's arrow all over again.

tachihara trying (miserably) to return the favour, having no clue what you like and needing hirotsu's advice. he made the old man swear not to tell anyone about this because if word spread through the black lizard that he was buying gifts for someone, he'd look weak and mushy and he didn't want you to know that this was what you did to him.

tachihara not knowing how to ask you out, painfully terrified that you were just being nice to him because that's who you are and not because you had any interest in him. he thought the mistletoe maneuver was cliché and stupid and soft and perfect for you.

tachihara using his ability to carry the mistletoe around with him, feeling dumb as he waits for you to stumble across him all the while trying to psych himself up to actually kiss you.

tachihara who turns around for one second to yell at an underling, leaving the mistletoe in the air as you, hirotsu and gin stroll in.

tachihara watching in agony as you point out the mistletoe above your heads and kiss hirotsu right in front of his eyes (you said that you would've kissed gin but she had her mask on).

tachihara giving up and heading home after a long day, the stupid thing in his pocket serving as a reminder that he's a coward and can't even do this one simple thing right.

tachihara hearing you call out "wait up!" while he walks home, hands in his pockets and about to throw the world's biggest tantrum at the sight of lovers holding hands and laughing at all the christmas lights put up around the neighborhood.

tachihara slowing down his pace but not stopping as you talk to him, saying things that he barely processes because your smile is so beautiful and you look so excited.

tachihara following you on your little detour, taking him to decorated squares and clinging onto his arm when night fell and it got too cold. he would've suggested buying you a hot chocolate but he didn't want you leaving his arm anytime in the foreseeable future.

tachihara's confidence slightly restored, taking a deep breath and looking around while you babbled about loving the spirit of the season, his eyes locking in on the mistletoe in front of a small shop.

tachihara suggesting to you that go in and explore the shop, then trying (awfully) to smoothly point out the mistletoe on the sign above. he swore that he was a spy, a trained, high-level spy that could infiltrate even the most dangerous of organizations, but you made him nervous and it came out wrong.

tachihara listening to you giggle, pointing out what a coincidence it was that this was the second time today that you found yourself under the mistletoe.

tachihara not believing it when you grabbed him by the front of his jacket and kissed him like it was nothing, not giving him any time to say how he really felt or process the feeling of your lips on his.

tachihara trying to kiss you back but the kiss was short and you were already giggling and ushering him into the shop.

tachihara yelling out "stop! just... wait. just wait," with a lot more desperation than he wanted.

tachihara unable to say anything coherent, describing his appreciation for your gifts and thoughtful words and time you spent with him spontaneously like right now and how gorgeous you looked and how your smile made him feel and just about a thousand other things he never thought he'd say out loud, to your face.

tachihara breathing heavily after his rant, face hot enough to warm up half the city and unable to look you in the eye.

tachihara growing hotter once you grabbed his chin, tilting it so he would look at you, then you said "you know, we're still under the mistletoe... dontcha think we should kiss again?"

tachihara not believing his senses when you did just that, this time pulling him in deeply, hands on his shoulders and body twisting the slightest amount as you kissed him like he'd never imagined before.

tachihara feeling drunk on your lips once you told him that you followed him on his way home not just because you didn't want him to be alone during the holidays, but because you barely saw him today and missed his company, because you missed him.

tachihara getting himself dragged to your home that evening, condemned to plans of baking, house decorating and cuddling whether or not he wanted it. but you both knew that he did, more than anything.

tachihara walking with you like he was in a fever dream, your fingers intertwined while you occasionally kissed his cheek and watched him blush when you got closer to him or asked if he was the one who planted that mistletoe in the port mafia hq this morning.

tachihara making sure he discreetly tossed the mistletoe in his pocket in a garbage on the way there because he denied this morning's "accident".

and most importantly, tachihara getting spoiled the entire holiday season, especially since you made sure to hang dozens of mistletoes across your home and agreed that he would have to comply with each and every one of them, not that he was complaining.

[amee-racle-ofmyown]

Hey, Amee!! I hope you’re doing well <3

If by any chance you’re up to it, could you please write a fic about Heist Mark being super jealous of Yancy because he and Y/N clearly seem to be into each other?? I LOVE your art and writings and I couldn’t get this idea out of my head <3 (Obviously no pressure, though!)

I'm so happy to hear you enjoy my work, thank you🥺💖 and thank you for your request! it got me out of a terrible writer's block. on that note, sorry this took quite some time, I've been in a bit of a funk of on and off general creative block, and unable to finish any writing at all for even longer. this was a pretty fun challenge! I myself view Yancy platonically so I wasn't quite sure where to go with this initially, and I had to fight every urge to just make this heist mark x y/n dfsjsjsv. that said, it did end up being more heist mark-centric than maybe you intended? in which case, I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself😔 yancy is there but very briefly haha

Don't you tell me that you never even thought, 'maybe we could run'

2,603 words | Read on AO3

‘We're all gonna be rehearsing tomorrow so youse best get some sleep.’

You nod as you close the gate to yours and Mark's shared cell, stifling a yawn.

‘Goodnight, Yancy.’

You hold each other's gaze for a moment, before he turns and heads off, a tattooed hand over the back of his neck and a sweet smile still on his face. You watch as he disappears into the outer hallway and a guard appears to lock up your cell for the evening.

Your long-time accomplice and friend stands at the edge of your vision, arms folded.

‘Having fun with your new boyfriend, buddy?’ he asks, sounding unimpressed and slightly strained.

‘Oh, shush, Mark,’ you chide, but your stomach flips at the notion.

‘Yeah… Well, while you were busy playing Broadway,’ he glances to either side of the cell outside and continues in a lowered voice, ‘I've been hard at work hatching our escape. And I'm telling you, it's foolproof.’

‘Uh huh. As foolproof as your other three failed plans? I really don't wanna get thrown in solitary again.’

‘Please, that was one time! — and I don't see you bothering to come up with any ideas. Even though you pretty much got us into this mess.’

That accusation ticks you off, but you're quick to retaliate.

‘Are you seriously still hung up on that? How is this my fault? You couldn't fly a helicopter, why would you assume I can? You shouldn't have even presented it as an option!’

Your exclamation earns you a couple looks from other inmates slowly filing into their cells for the night.

‘Nevermind that now,’ Mark says, infuriatingly placatingly, ‘do you wanna hear the plan or not?’

The thread of uncertainty that you've been avoiding coils tight in your chest and you pause, wondering how to bring up what's been nagging at you for days.

‘Um, so, I've been thinking. What if… what if we don't try to escape?’

‘Ha ha. Funny joke, pal.’

‘I'm serious, Mark. We could just… stay here and wait out our sentence, if we play it safe we might even get our time reduced on good behaviour. We could be gone in like a decade. Or a few years! Maybe. Probably. Maybe.’ Wishful thinking, perhaps.

He scoffs, as if the idea isn't even worth considering.

‘There is no way you're genuinely telling me to just wait it out. Maybe you haven't noticed since you've been in la-la land lately, but we're not on vacation, we're in prison,’ Mark spouts, voice growing thick with agitation. ‘What was supposed to be the heist of a lifetime, would've set us up for decades to come, is still on the line! And we're on a bit of a time crunch here — I don't trust that warden guy one bit with the Box, or in general,’ he sneers. ‘I mean what kind of name is Murder-Slaughter? Ugh, do we even know for sure if he still has it?’

‘Yancy mentioned seeing it in his office the last time he was there, which was earlier today, so yeah, probably.’

‘Ugh, there you go again about Yancy. It's always Yancy this, Yancy that, blah blah blah, Yancy!’

‘Wh– I was just answering your question!’

‘Y'know what? I'm sick and tired of being the only one taking this seriously while you act like it's all a big party.’

He places a hand on his hip, the other poking a finger towards you as he speaks. It would be comical, if he wasn't acting like a jerk.

‘What's up with you?’

‘What's up with me? What's up with you? You seriously wanna stay in this— this shithole, ‘cause of what? Some pretty face you've known for all of like, less than two weeks??’

‘Oh my God, Mark, it's not that terrible, and Yancy is actually my friend, he's been nothing but welcoming and kind since we got here, and—’

‘Oh, did you forget that he tried to beat you up when you first met? Real interesting, how you let that little detail slip.’

‘We just got off on the wrong foot, he's really—’

It's then that you see it — something in the slight hunch in his gait, the furrow of his brow, his pursed lips and tense jaw — and you wonder why you hadn't noticed before. It's not just anger and frustration, it's something bitter and personal.

‘Mark… are you jealous?’

Bingo. His eyes only widen a sliver, for a fraction of a second, but you're so used to reading him that even the most imperceptible of reactions on his usually very expressive face have become familiar to you.

‘Psh. I'm not jealous.’

‘You so are jealous! Oh my god, you're super duper jealous,’ you say with a grin, revelling in this new information.

‘Shut up, why would I be jealous?’ he protests, trying to sound nonchalant. But it's too late. You've already seen through it.

‘Is that what this is about?’ you say with a laugh. ‘You just want my attention back or something?’

He stares blankly for a moment.

‘Are you serious right now? You actually think the only reason I'm mad is because some random dude just waltzes in and starts acting all buddy buddy with you and you fall head-over-heels,’ he jeers with his hands either side of his face, fluttering his eyelashes mockingly. ‘Hook, line and sinker.’

‘Mark—’

‘I mean, never mind your partner, right? You know, your best friend who you've known and worked with for years? Who cares what he thinks?!’

‘Mark, I—’

‘In fact, he can get punched through a wall for all you care! You won't even bat an eye, as long as there's a random spontaneous musical number immediately afterwards, it's all in good fun!’

‘Ok, that's not fair,’ you push back. ‘Of course I was worried! But I was also surrounded by violent criminals at the time, we've been over this!’

‘Oh, so they're “violent criminals” now? But they're simply “hurt, misunderstood souls” when it suits you?!’ he shoots back, making air quotes to emphasise his point.

‘They're people, Mark! They're allowed to be… multi-faceted!’

‘Lights out, everybody,’ comes a guard's voice, ringing through the hallway as it suddenly becomes dark, save for the glow of dim lamplight emanating from one or two of the other cells.

‘Whatever, let's just get some sleep,’ Mark grumbles under his breath.

‘You always do this!’ you whisper harshly, but inadvertently let the volume slip back into your voice as you feel your blood boil. ‘You try to cut things off and act like the “bigger person” just to get out of an argument that, newsflash, YOU'RE LOSING.’

‘Oh, whatever, what-f*cking-ever!’

‘You're being so damn overdramatic, Mark! It's not like I'm trying to break up our team.’

‘Yeah, well– well maybe we should!’

You don't know why it jolts you like a gunshot when he says it, but it does. His words, the force and resentment behind them, pierce you to your core. It stops any quick-fire response you had at the ready in its tracks.

Regret immediately flashes across his face, but he quickly attempts to cover it with a steely, hardened gaze. ‘Clearly, we want different things. So maybe it's for the best.’

‘Hey!’ one of the guards calls out from across the hall. ‘Lights out means quiet, you two. Don't make us separate you into different cells.’

With a frustrated huff, you reluctantly traipse off to bed, yours being the lower half of the bunk while Mark settles above you.

It really is a rather decent bed. The mattress is nothing special, but comfortable, and the soft blanket is accompanied by an oddly luxurious, fluffy pillow. Definitely above what you'd expect is probably average prison standards. Frankly, you don't know what Mark's problem is with this place. It's honestly not half bad. As far as you expect jails go, it surely could be a lot worse.

You lay back and let your breathing even out, trying your best to allow some of the bubbling anger to die down. Eventually, you hear the guards leave.

Time passes, it could be minutes or hours; it's not like the passage of time has felt right at all to you since that last heist.

It's silent, save for the sound of your breaths and Mark's above you. You're still upset with him, but the sound of him breathing nearby has always been oddly comforting. The two of you have had plenty of close calls as a pair — even times when you had to patch each other up after jobs that went particularly badly. If you got injured on a heist, you couldn't simply call an ambulance or show up at a hospital in an emergency and risk having your whole operation blown. That was simply the nature of your line of work.

At the worst of times, as long as you could hear those steady, even breaths, you could tell yourself he would pull through, and things would be fine.

You idly watch the mattress above you, letting the rhythm of your friend's breathing become a gentle white noise, and think.

You think about that heist and the Box. Ancient, coveted, mysterious. Sitting atop its perch in the museum vault, in all its glory and allure, practically asking to be stolen. The gleam of the gem encrusted in its surface. You wonder if the prize held within would be worth all of this, if you managed to get it back.

You think about Yancy, a little rough and a little troubled and not seeing much point in trying to kick old habits; but fun and soft and sensitive and full of remorse. You think about the feeling of your hand in his when you practise a routine with him, how his whole face lights up when he's excited or falls when he's sad or pensive. You think about how he has made this penitentiary into a home, and these inmates into a family.

You think about Mark. Silly, stupid, steadfast Mark, snarky and thoughtful and loyal. Who isn't actually as dumb as he lets on. Who is resourceful and quick-thinking when a plan needs to be formed. Who makes bad puns and trusts you whole-heartedly, and who always lets you decide which course of action to take, no matter how much he disagrees, simply due to his unwavering faith in you. Mark, your co-worker, your friend, your partner in crime. Who is maybe a little enamoured with you, despite you trying to ignore it. Who you half-heartedly agreed to go on a date with, not having it in you to turn him down, nor prepared for the guilt that would be eating away at you now.

You think about one of the first things he told you when you landed yourselves at Happy Trails: About how he doesn't belong here, but maybe you do. What if he were to leave and you were to stay? The thought breaks your heart a little.

Then, a whisper from above into the quiet, gently interrupting your thoughts.

‘Hey, you still awake?’

‘...Yeah.’

You hear his voice, soft-spoken, but clear enough that you can hear the sincerity laced into it.

‘I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get so worked up.’

‘Yeah, I'm sorry too,’ you reply, matching his volume.

‘And I didn't mean it,’ he says, and you think you hear the slightest tremble in the statement, almost as if he's fighting tears, and for a second you wish you could see his face, ‘what I said before, about uh, splitting up. I know I joke about that kind of thing all the time, and not coming back for you… But you know I don't really mean it, right?’

You've certainly had your doubts in the past, but those moments seem so far away now; footnotes in a slowly unfolding tale, stepping stones on the journey the pair of you have taken together as you worked your way from theft to theft to get to this point. As much as you'd butt heads over the years, you could always count on each other and you always stuck together.

‘Right?’

‘Yeah, I know…’

‘...And, alright, your lack of interest in breaking out aside, maybe I am kinda jealous.’

‘Ha! I knew it.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ He sighs. ‘It's just… it took us a while to be like we are now and yet, you're suddenly so close to him when it hasn't even been that long, it just doesn't feel fair. I dunno, it's stupid.’

‘Nah, I get it. I'm sorry if I made you feel left behind.

‘And I'm sorry if I ever made you feel pressured into something you're actually just not all that into.’

You feel a bit of tension leave your chest as a small smile appears on your face. ‘I appreciate that.’

In some ways you're grateful for the small bed separating you and preventing you from being face to face. You think it makes this easier for both of you.

‘I don't want to lose you, y'know? I mean, we're supposed to be partners. Ride or die, remember?’

‘Oh, Mark… You know I still trust you with my life…’ You pause, considering your words. ‘For the first time in ages, things feel a little more complicated than just being about us.’

A beat, then you hear him inhale, and he says your name, foregoing any of his usual nicknames.

‘...Are you… happy here? Does he make you happy?’

‘There's things I miss about freedom, sure, but it's not so bad here. And let's face it, our crimes were probably gonna catch up to us eventually, one way or another, right? And Yancy…’ You let out the smallest huff of laughter, smiling to yourself once again. ‘You're right, it hasn't been very long… There's just something about him, I guess. I know he might be a little much at times but I enjoy being around him, and he honestly seems like he wants to make up for things he's done in the past by being here. Maybe nothing will come of this but even so, in a weird way, he kind of makes me want to do better?’

Mark breathes a good-natured huff of laughter as well, and the two of you take a moment to muse on the irony of that sentiment.

‘I just– I can't handle being stuck here,’ he finally says. ‘But you're right, nothing I've tried so far has worked, anyway.’

‘Y'know… Yancy knows all the ins and outs of this place. He could probably help us if we wanted it.’

‘Do you want it?’

Do you want to leave or stay? The real question beneath it all.

You're quiet again, and it feels as if every possibility is laid out before you, only obscured.

‘I don't know,’ you say eventually. ‘I need more time to think. I just don't want you to think I'm making a choice between you or him, there's so many other things I need to consider. That we need to consider.’

‘That's fair… Just don't take too long, ok? Not like we can pause or rewind time, haha.’

‘Right… In the meantime, could you at least try to get along with Yancy and the others? You might like them if you give them a chance.’

‘... Fine, I'll try,’ he acquiesces.

You raise a hand to your mouth to cover a yawn. A far more comfortable silence falls over the room, and you start to feel sleep overtake you.

‘... Hey, Mark?’

‘Yeah?’

‘We're still partners.’

If nothing else, you hope this will reassure him.

‘...Ok. Sweet dreams, partner.’

[piningpercussionist]

transfem scott getting lots of support from ramona and kim in the early 2000's when shit's very taboo but they all 3 have a fire forged bond and lord if they aren't going to make sure they're all as happy as they can be because they've come this far and I dunno it just makes me happy all three of them

YES YES YES

It makes me very happy as well,,

Like I've said before. General Trans Scott enthusiast here- I love the idea of their little support network *violent coughing* I (we?) mean polycule *violent coughing* so fucking much.

Ramona I think has a bit of a more gentle hand with reassuring Scott with gender issues, but sometimes she just can't help herself from some pointed banter or teasing- how could you with someone so dense? (Said w affection)

And then Kim I think is more blunt. But like, in a good way mostly, you know? The kinda blunt that makes you snap to attention and go "Oh. Yeah that was silly of me." And if Ramona's started some sort of banter? Kim is SO piling on. Maybe sometimes she's a bit TOO blunt with it- but it's only because she's so firm in her support. She wants Scott to Get It Together- and be happier for it. So if some ribbing now and again is in order, then goddamnit she will do so! Anything to crack that shell.

And ohhh can you imagine how they would react to some transphobic bullshit?? Unholy terror would be driven into the offender before they walk off with an absurd amount of coins between them. I can feel it in my bones. Scott doesn't even have to lift a finger (if the transphobe is even noticed/processed at all, bc I honestly can see Scott just. Not realizing someone's being transphobic.) Kim giving someone a lashing with her tongue as distraction and then Ramona coming in with the hammer- BAM! Free Money! Paying literally with your life for your transphobia. A Better And Just World.

And of course (transfem Scott more specifically, here,) the way Scott would start to flourish under their support... cagey and maybe a little (perhaps a lot-) resistant to start- but Kim's blunt affirmations and no nonsense attitude for bullshit (which is what Scott insisting on "being cis" would be, c'mon now,) and Ramona's also low bullshit tolerance but less Stabby (bc I won't lie, that's probably how Kim's comments would feel,) assurances? Ough... My Heart... Be Still-

I would Kill for them, Your Honor-

(Ran out of tags so putting this in the body of the post- I am SO tired someone pls sound off if this isn't as coherent as I am hoping this is. I WAS trying to nap and get the extra sleep I desperately needed but the writing bug... it Bit Me.... only a little but enough to stop that process-)

[kyouka-supremacy]

that happened to me 😭 had like fifteen bullet points i was gonna expand on, then when it hit 2k, i just answered with "sskk is the focus"

RIGHT????? LIKE, SAME.

Reasons why I like Beast: the compelling alternative universe concept, the intriguing story, the fantastic characters writing, the siblings relationships, the beautiful designs and gorgeus manga art style, the thought stimulating subjects,

Equally real and valid reasons why I like Beast: it's a sskk story.

[macfrog]

hello pal im here to let you know my rendezvous with a forty something single dad has just ended, so im ready for allll the angst sof has to offer 💘

hi, babyyy. hope you're good. you were way too hot and too feisty for that old man, anyways. go find another. let me slip you some numbers.

so much angst on its way, promise, but...since your rendezvous just ended, i figured maybe you might like one last fling? perhaps in the form of a 2k sex on fire one shot set a few weeks ago in the timeline, way before anything went wrong? lots of sex, lots of daddy, zero pain and suffering (except the good kind)?

dunno. you guys can let me know. my finger is hovering over the big red button. xx

[skibasyndrome]

i'm literally so excited for your kinktober fics, you have no idea 🥹💜

ANON! I'm kissing you on the mouth!!! 🥺😭💜💜💜

But waaaah, seriously, I'm glad to hear you're excited, I'm excited, too, to see how it goes! And I hope the fics will land even though I'm trying out new things 😊💜

[jtl07]

You’re such a hero👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 Thank you! Lilith being so annoyed is so accurate! Not a fic prompt or anything, but what is your headcanon for season 3? Does Ava come back? How? When? And Bea? What does she do when she leaves cat’s cradle?

ooh well for s3 i've had various ideas - many i've written (see these fics) - and the longer piece i'm working on now is technically a take on s3 as well.

i'll share this idea though - it's a recent one i kept banging my head against the wall over but eventually let go. i'mma write it out here but anyone who comes across this, feel free to take this idea and write it out more fully if you want!

(note: the plan was to have this be from Camila's pov and essentially wanted it to be a similar vibe to leave it all behind)

anyway, so we open with: Ava’s back and nothing is wrong. the reunion had been everything Camila had dreamed of - for Bea, for Ava, for everyone - and it's been a few days and nothing's wrong per se, but something is odd. Beatrice still looks at Ava like she's hung the stars in the sky, like a mystery - glorious, wondrous, and Ava still hangs on to Beatrice's every word, hangs on to her. and Camila gets it, not wanting to let go, not now when Ava's back and here and everything is blessedly calm.

in the world at large, that is. there is much to do in the OCS, rebuilding and healing, as much as they can in the time they have. Camila gives them as much space and support as she can between all of her responsibilities, dealing with the here and now and preparing for the future.

a future that is still as uncertain as it is worrisome. Ava doesn't remember much from her time on the other side but she can confirm that there is a war coming, and she and Beatrice have taken up a near permanent residence in the archives. Camila has found them many a late night, looking up stories of all sorts: of sacrifice, of mythical items, of gold and halos and light.

and here is where things fall apart for me - jt, the author - because this was meant to be a mystery but i couldn't for the life of me figure out the clues and shit so: fast forward to Camila getting weirder and weirder vibes - not from Ava - maybe a little bit but she's just come from who knows how long from another realm - but from Bea. until it culminates a week or so later to Camila arriving at their shared quarters to find it in complete disarray. as if ransacked; as if kidnapped.

Camila stills. belatedly thinks of running down the hall to sound an alarm; then remembers her training. questions herself first: why haven't you run yet? answers her own self: because something's off. and then a voice that reminds Cam of Beatrice: wait. be patient; let your mind catch up to what you're seeing.

she lets her eyes roam first, sees now the premeditation in the supposed mess - patterns in the chaos. it points her towards a notebook, extensive notes written in Beatrice's careful hand but Camila knows she doesn't have time to go through everything. finds a clue - finds the page - finds the truth.

she leaves immediately with a delayed message queued up to send to Mother Superion well after she's left - hopes that when Mother arrives on scene, it won't be a repeat of the ark (that she won't have to bury or worry about yet another child).

the location isn't that far and Cam sets herself up as Beatrice had instructed, in an alcove with a clear shot of a raised dias. there's an energy in the air that makes her wary, that edges her towards scared. she tamps down the anxiety, hopes she got the message right; calms her impatience and breathes. listens. waits.

it's not long before Ava and Beatrice come into view. Camila's somewhat hidden and she notices how Beatrice subtly keeps Ava's attention occupied away from Camila's location. Camila wills her hands to steady.

they've not come empty-handed. Ava and Beatrice set up an array of items, beginning a ritual that Camila faintly remembers flipping through in Beatrice's notebook. a sacrificial ritual, she realizes horrifyingly as Ava unsheathes a sword - the Cruciform sword, though it's not glowing - and Beatrice kneels down in front of her.

Beatrice's back is to Camila and over her bowed shoulders, Camila can see an unfamiliar intensity in Ava's gaze. Camila's watched them watch each other for a while now, but has never seen this look on Ava's face. a look that means harm, a look that spells out the end.

then Camila sees it: behind Beatrice's back, her hand has eased a knife out of its hiding place. Camila has her orders, feels her fingers ready to pull the trigger. waits. waits.

but Beatrice's hand falters - she makes the mistake of looking up at Ava and Camila can see her grip already slackening around the knife.

she's waited long enough.

the shot is true. Ava jerks back, blood between her eyes and Camila shoots again, straight through the heart. Ava staggers once; falls.

Beatrice doesn't catch her. she's still kneeling when Camila reaches her side, blood spattered and wide-eyed, murmuring softly in a monotone: "it's not her. it's not her."

it breaks Camila's heart all over again, wishes almost for the silence of the first time over this. "Bea," she tries, again, her hands shaking instead of Beatrice's because this time, even though Beatrice had technically let her go with the order, it had been Camila's finger on the trigger. but they could deal with blame and loss and penance later. first things first: get back to safety.

she manages to tug Beatrice up off her knees and onto unsteady feet, tries to hush the repeated round of murmuring. gets her off the dias.

hears a laugh from behind them.

before Camila can turn around, they're both blasted off their feet, sent tumbling, skidding over each other and over stone. Camila coughs wetly, raises her head in time to see their weapons thrown against a far wall.

she crawls over to an unmoving Beatrice and shields her as best she can. the being with Ava's face laughs again, the sword's glow sharpening the lines around Ava's eyes and mouth in a way that would never be true if it were really her. 'it's not her,' Camila wills herself to believe as the being steps closer, as warmth seeps through the hand she's pressed into her side.

it's taking all of Camila's energy to stay upright, barely able to make out what the being is saying - something about sacrifice, something about a new order and being chosen. she feels Beatrice stir behind her, feels more than hears the shared gasp of fear as she tracks the sword as it's raised above Ava's - not Ava - head. distantly understands that its target is her own. feels Beatrice trying to move her but Camila wills herself to be as still as stone.

she closes her eyes -

- for a blow that never comes.

something fast and strong and enraged crashes into the being they thought was Ava. something in Camila inexplicably relaxes and she falls back into Beatrice. even as Beatrice dresses her wound, they both watch the battle - or at least try to through the blinding light and explosions. then, there's a yell - singular, triumphant; one they both know - and in the dust of one last explosion, one of the two shadows fall.

Beatrice immediately starts forward but Camila holds fast, somehow finding strength, for both of them. "wait," Camila rasps, "Bea, we have to wait."

both of them keep their eyes trained on the slowly dissipating cloud of dust and energy - waiting, for who will arise. for who’s left alive. 

the shadows shift and settle atop the shoulders of a single form. Beatrice lets out a whimper and drags Camila forward but Camila keeps them from getting any closer, locks her arms, her legs, her heart. 'please,' she prays, pleads with Beatrice thrashing in her hold. 'Ava, please.' 

as if listening, the figure turns. eyes bright with simmering gold find them, settles on Beatrice.

softens. "hey, Bea."

and Camila knows: it's her. 

she lets Beatrice go and before Camila can even blink it seems Beatrice is in front of Ava, their arms wrapped around each other. the scene in front of her blurs with tears, relief and joy overflowing as the space is bathed in reunion gold.

Ava's back and everything is fine.

[ladyanidala]

Surprise self-rec time! Pick 3 of your favorite things you’ve written and share them here, then put this in the inbox (anonymously or not) of your fellow writers to spread the positivity and help celebrate already written fics 💞

ANON YOU CAUGHT ME AT A GREAT TIME I RARELY GET TO ASKS IN A TIMELY FASHION

Alright alright.

NUMBER ONE PICK - IF YOU MUST READ ANYTHING FROM MY PROFILE ON AO3, READ THIS: We're Not Needed Here. This is my beloved crack fic that's currently on hiatus bc I'm getting married n stuff, and planning takes up so much of my energy :') But definitely read it!! Obi-Wan decides that he's had enough of the CIS/Republic war and makes the executive decision to take him, his family, and some clone battalions to his secret wife on Mandalore. Shenanakins ( ;) ) ensue.

NUMBER TWO PICK: Don't Come Any Closer (But Don't Move Away). This is my novella that I spent two whole months writing, and tbh, it was only supposed to be a 5k fic that ended up at 26k words. Whoopsies. Anyways, this follows Jesse and Doc as she's assigned to the 501st. Wild times, my dudes, wild and romantic times. If only they could stop hating each other for two seconds, smh...

AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST, NUMBER THREE PICK: What Once Was Lost, I Have Found Again. This is my Thornidala fic. It follows Padme and Commander Thorn after the rise of the Empire. Padme's trying to survive for the sake of her children, and Thorn's suffered enough from both the war and the activation of the chips. Padme is asked by Bail to take him in, and she agrees. Slow burn romance ensues (tho since it's a WIP, and again, I'm getting married, it's currently on hold).

Go read them, hoorah!!

Anon, thank you for your ask!! <3

[bellysoupset]

I’m sorry I’m inpatient but will max meet Wendy soon 🫣🫣🫣 and like will it be a cute fix will someone be hurt or sick I just I need to know 🥲

Like I had a dark thought if she like was visiting Vince and ends up with like a migraine or anxiety or something while waiting for him at the school and max tries to help out and Vince gets all protective of her 😍-💡

Aw man, I already wrote Max and Wendy's first meeting! I'm just waiting to post 🙈 It doesn't involve neither Max nor Wendy sick, but its a frisky emeto fic with Vince, does it count?

I'd love to write your prompt, but it wouldn't be their first time meeting, what do you think?

[hide-in-imagination]

You know what? I see a lot of people praising your dominant Simón, and I love him too, but I haven't seen anyone point out that he is... I don't know if ashamed is the right word, but it's funny reading things like "Ambar melted under his touch and he threw decorum out the window" or "in the nights where the excitement and haze of arousal shredded all shame and sense" like, you'd think he's thinking about the kinkiest kink of the kinks, but he's just talking about doggy 🤣🤣. I don't know, it's cute. His romantic side can't fathom the thought of not being face to face or going to a love hotel, but he's dominant side wins sometimes. I wonder how far he could take it before he's romantic side intervenes and be like... What are you doing, you dirty dog? 🤣🤣

HAHAHAH Exactly! You get it! 😂

Anything beyond missionary and romantically staring into each other's eyes seems like too much for him 😂😂 At least at first; he's been relaxing a bit with time. But he definitely had this idea, prior to Ámbar, of like, you know, soft loving, 'making love', so whenever it gets rougher and it's more about the pleasure than the feelings he's like "Is this okay? Am I using Ámbar? Am I objectifying her too much? I should be more respectful than this. But she seems to enjoy it. And goddd, it feels good." 🤣🤣

Basically, as always, he's trying very hard to be good. You know, a good person, a good boyfriend-- respectful, kind, caring-- and he's still figuring out what classifies as 'good' in the sexual aspect of their relationship skdjfn. Which, you know, it's perfectly okay! It's about two people, after all, and about getting to know each other, so let's not bully him too much for feeling 'ashamed'-- They just started this relationship and it's their first time being with someone that they love, so they'll learn each other's limits together❤️

(I mean, if he had just straight up bent her over, pulled her hair, and spit in her mouth like 'yeah bitch, take it', I don't know about you, but I wouldn't believe it, like, that's not Simón skdjn. IT HAS TO BE IN CHARACTHER, GUYS!!)

'I wonder how far he could take it before his romantic side intervenes', yeah, I wonder too🤔 Because it also comes down to personal preference, and I'm pretty sure he's not into BDSM, so he would never go that far skjdfn. Then again, everyone's got a different definition of 'far'-- Some people like being slapped and choked, others would call that violence, some people like to be humiliated or called a 'whore' or a 'slut', others would walk away immediately if that happened. So yeah, I don't know, what do you consider far? Pet play? Blood play? Piss kink?

(Simón would do neither of those btw ksjdfn)

I don't think Ámbar would like getting slapped or choked. Maybe spanking? Maybe Simón could tie her to the bed, play with the control that would give him, add some toys into the mix like a vibrator-- I feel like that's as far as they would get 😂 But again, not immediately, I think they'd have to date for at least a year sdjkfn.

[dootznbootz]

Eh, have some Odyssey headcanons

This is nowhere NEAR all of them as I like "revealing" headcanons while writing. I'm also just a very "fluffy" person so heads up! :D

Mentioned it in a different post but Odysseus is very affectionate with his loved ones (overtly so. almost demanding in how he'll just kind of drape himself across you) Even as a kid he was like this. Often just hugging them and/or climbing up them to cuddle. It skyrockets with Penelope, as he was overwhelmed with emotions for her when they first met and that hasn't stopped. Lots of little kisses and nuzzles and cuddling. Almost always clinging to her in some way. He's strange about being touched with basically everyone else though. While he's still caring for his friends, you never know if he's fine with a hug or not. Often times he'll just give you a look of "Don't even think about it" mostly at poor Menelaus as I headcanon him as the most physically affectionate. Lots of slaps on the back and big hugs He's a little hot and cold like that

Adding to that, with Penelope, with said little kisses that he gives a lot of, he's fine with "losing" or "yielding" to her with everything but that. He's always trying to "have the last laugh" or you know, the last affection. He's perfectly fine admitting defeat to her with everything else but this. It's probably something he doesn't even realize that he does. He loves being doted on and pampered by her but also unconsciously thinks "you're getting smothered. As soon as you stop moving your hands through my hair. I'M gonna smother you" Get adored, Penelope. (●♡∀♡) I am living vicariously through these dummies.

Laertes always had a "green thumb" even before he left the palace to work in the fields. He always liked plants. If you know how J.R.R. Tolkein writes, basically nonstop about ferns and undergrowth and such, that's Laertes. If you go on a walk/hunt with him, he'll often just look at plants and be happy and likes to study them. He was very picky about how plants are arranged on the property. He's a bit more quiet and "gruff".

Odysseus definitely mostly takes after his mother in almost everything. Her humor and mischief, her looks, even learned to woodcarve from her. She and Penelope get along great and she's definitely the "life of the party". (it's MY headcanon and I can do what I want!!!) While Laertes loves his trees and plants, it's even better when he can share that knowledge and passion with his wife who creates something entirely new with that plant (aka wood). "That's walnut you know. Did you know it blahblahblahblah".

Ctimine actually takes a lot after Laertes but mostly in the "kind of quiet" way but she's the type to make one-liners that make everyone in the room laugh. (that she gets from her Mother. I actually want Laertes to be kind of awkward lol) It's a "she doesn't talk much but when she does. You should listen because she's fucking funny." She actually likes plants as well. (as a child she would find out what stuff tasted horrible and then dare Odysseus to eat it. And ofc he did it basically every time. "Eat a raw Olive, idiot. >:) " ) and probably was more into herbology and its uses. When Odysseus comes back, she and Laertes want to know every detail of the Lotus and the Moli Root.

Penelope has a sweet tooth! Also, I have her quite short despite being a Naiad as I have a headcanon that like a lot of fish, water nymphs grow to the size of the body of water they're in. Or in this specific case, BORN in. Penelope was born in a creek/stream🥲 Her mom dove into the nearest source of water and that was it. (kind of goes along with her duck myth) She also canonically says the most out-of-pocket shit (remember the sneeze of death???) she's a "weird girl". She has been "weird" since the beginning. Weird girls are hot as fuck, you cowards!

Penelope: One time, I fell asleep at the bottom of the river and I woke up to a catfish trying to eat my arm. Mom and I killed it and ate it afterward. Odysseus, twirling his hair and giggling: You showed that catfish who's boss. You're so hot. Please be my wife

(That's all you're getting on her. The Wife of all time will be getting her own headcanon post all to herself because she deserves it. I am doodling lil hearts around her face. *I am shot by Odysseus*)

This'll probably be my most unpopular one but yeah. Odysseus isn't the shortest of the Achaean kings. He's actually taller than average (great grandchild of Hermes genes and his mom is tall. Laertes is shorter.) and while shorter than the other kings. The title of the shortest goes to Diomedes. I love the thought of this absolute killing machine being the shortest in a "He's small? What can he do?" and then he just fucks everything and everyone up. He's a chihuahua. Small, full of rage, "loud of warcry", and always wanting to fight. >:)

That's all for now. Honestly, thank y'all so much for being so sweet. It really means so so much. I was kind of afraid I was too "fluffy and soft" to make content for the Odyssey fandom as while yes, they've all done monstrous actions and I definitely still plan to have them steal, lie, barter, fight, etc. I kept getting worried if I was just making shit too soft you know? Too fluffy. Too "romantic". I have him sneak into a garden and cut someone's flowers for his wife but would he even do that?? Is that too nice of him?

I wear my heart on my sleeve and in my writing, I'm the same way. :D Just how I am! And I'm having fun!

[cboffshore]

we’ve only had a tiny lil teaser of OSSAS and i’m already excited ( and terrified ) !! so, to prepare us….

with the WIP so far, which i’m sure is subject to change later on, what’s three words you’d use to describe the next chapter of witness?

Sure! I've been spitballing and sharing little chunks in the writer's server I'm in, so I think for fun I'll pull words from fellow server members and their responses to what little I've shared so far. They aren't even tone descriptors or anything. These are literally just very apt words from feedback and questions I've gotten in there.

They are: trespasser, simping, and fantastic.

Right about here is where the channel talk turned into me trying and failing to find an emo Nadakhan edit that has haunted me for years, so that's where we're stopping!!

[amee-racle-ofmyown]

the heist!mark brainrot is consuming me…, just imagine mark n the viewer meeting for the first time as little kids to shoplift candy or smth together ╥﹏╥

the (brain)rot consumes!! I can relate

my dear anon... LISTEN. I am a big advocate for childhood friends captaineer, it's one of my favourite headcanons, but a childhood friends AU for the heist partners? that's something I hadn't considered until now. and it's adorable. I had to write something for it asap because I was INSPIRED. I hope you enjoy💖 thanks for sparking the idea!

Heist!Mark x reader (not explicitly romantic at all it's more about the friendship in this one) | Words: 1,317

You are in the kitchen of your shared home base, unloading the groceries your heist partner has just bought, when you pick up a bag of sour candies, smiling quietly to yourself. He's always been a fan of them.

Turning the packet in your hands, an old memory drifts to the surface of your mind:

You don't remember exactly how long ago it was, but you couldn't have been much older than maybe ten.

Your father was busy working, and had reluctantly sent you to the store with a small list after you insisted you could handle it on your own.

You slipped the folded piece of paper out of your school bag and scanned the list of items. At the bottom was a note that read, ‘Remember to stay hydrated, kiddo! :)’

You walked around the supermarket collecting the few things on your list and placed them in your trolley. On your way to the checkout, you passed through the candy aisle and slowed to eye the products on display.

‘Aren't you going to get anything?’

Your head perked up, shocked at the sudden voice addressing you.

There was a boy next to you with dark hair, looking at you inquisitively. He seemed to be about your age. He might have even been slightly shorter than you.

You must have been standing here for longer than you realised if it had prompted him to ask you about it.

You shook your head.

‘Why not?’

‘Oh, um. My dad only gave me enough money for what we need,’ you said timidly, showing him the list.

‘Ohh, that's too bad.’ Then, a small yet undeniably mischievous smile appeared on his face. He glanced discreetly up and down the aisle. ‘You know you can just — ’ and he took one of the small packets of candy off the shelf and slipped it swiftly into his pocket.

Your eyes went wide, stunned. Both from the fact that he was suggesting you steal, and at the speed and subtly with which he'd enacted the crime, as if he'd done it dozens of times before, if not more.

‘What are you doing?’ you spoke in a harsh whisper.

‘It's no big deal,’ he said in a lower voice than before, but one that still felt entirely too loud. He slipped another bag into his pocket.

You did not want to associate with this boy any longer.

You pushed your trolley away and towards the checkout, handing your items to the cashier.

You were unhappy to find the boy waiting for you when you exited the store, shopping bag in your hand.

‘What do you want?’ you asked, a little standoffishly, frowning at him.

‘There's no need to be rude,’ he said with a small pout. ‘Y'know, I think I might have seen you at school a few times.’

To your dismay, he followed along as you started walking home. When you pressed him, he simply said, ‘Hey, I'm not following you! I live down this way too, I promise!’

As the two of you walked, he chatted annoyingly by your side. What was more annoying was that you found you didn't mind his presence. You were a quiet kid and you didn't have many friends. Having someone to walk home with you was kind of a nice change of pace.

Just as you thought this, though, you immediately chided yourself mentally. You and him were not friends. You weren't going to be friends. This boy was a criminal and he wasn't even sorry about it.

You frowned in thought.

Oh no, what if he got caught? What if you went to juvenile jail for being an accomplice to theft? What would Dad say? What would Mom say? What if—’

‘Hey, are you listening to me? You haven't responded to anything I'm saying.’

You simply sighed as he pulled you out of your thoughts.

‘Are you still mad about the candy? I told you it's not a big deal.’

You stopped as you realised you were approaching your front door. The journey seemed to have gone a little faster than usual.

‘Really?’ you finally replied in an exasperated tone. ‘That was no big deal for you? That was stealing. Stealing is wrong.’ You couldn't believe you had to spell it out to him.

‘They won't notice a couple tiny bags of candy are gone. My mom says big companies that own supermarkets are greedy. They make loads of money anyway and don't pay enough taxes.’

‘Does your mom know you're a thief?’

‘W- well, no, but-’

‘That’s what I thought.’

He looked a little disheartened.

‘Please don't tell anyone. I'm sorry if I upset you,’ he said quietly, looking down.

You hadn't really expected an apology from someone like him. You sighed again.

‘I won't tell, but don't expect me to just go along with it. And don't act like we're best buds all of a sudden. We don't know each other. You don't even know my name!’

‘Well, what's your name?’

You gave him a slightly surprised look before telling him your name, albeit hesitantly.

‘Look, I have to get going now…’

You fumbled with the shopping bag as you reached into your coat pocket, feeling for the house key, when you suddenly felt something that wasn't there before. It made a crinkling sound beneath your touch.

‘You didn't.’ You pulled the candy out of your pocket. ‘When did you—?’

The boy grinned at you.

‘I thought you could have one of mine.’

‘I don't want your stolen candy!’

‘Judging by how you looked at it earlier, I think you do. And besides, stolen treats taste better!’ he called out, already walking away.

‘Wh- SHH!’ You hoped none of your neighbours had heard.

‘I'm Mark by the way! See ya, buddy!’

You stood outside the front door, dumbfounded.

Finally you let yourself in. Your dad wouldn't be home yet for a while.

You put the shopping away and sat down at your kitchen table, staring at the stolen goods in front of you.

You could try to put it back but… that would be more suspicious.

You figured, the deed had been done. There was nothing you could do now, so you may as well make the most of it.

You tore the edge of the packet and popped one of the candies in your mouth, savouring the sweet and sour combination on your tongue.

Maybe Mark was right. It did taste extra good. But maybe it was just because you'd been craving it.

What a weird kid.

‘Stealing is wrong, huh…?’ you mumble under your breath. You look down at the candy in your hands. It's not the same brand as the one from back then, but you imagine it tastes more or less the same, from what you remember.

Present day Mark is the one to pull you out of your musings.

‘Hey, what's with that face you're making? I know that look, buddy. Are you contemplating your life choices??’

You chuckle softly.

‘Just… got reminded of something. I suppose I got lost in nostalgia for a moment.’

‘Oh yeah? Penny for your thoughts?’

You turn and smile at him.

‘This just made me think of an annoying little boy stealing candy from a supermarket. And his reluctant acquaintance who ended up getting dragged into his antics for the foreseeable future.’

It takes a second for it to click.

‘Ohhhhh.’ You watch as realisation turns to him smiling fondly at the memories, which turns to him snapping his attention to you with a fake-offended look.

You laugh at his expression.

‘Wait, hey! Annoying?!’

‘Mhm.’

‘Excuse you, I was a wonderful, sweet and positively charming child.’

Your laughter rings out in the kitchen, full of mirth, and he shakes his head at you with a familiar lopsided grin, and you are so grateful for the cheeky little boy who approached you that day.

[pe0ple3ater]

🌹 ~ Sugar

OKAY HEHEHEH (send a rose and I'll post a sentence from my wips)

Mike breathes the smoke into Pac's mouth and Pac groans softly. His hands slide down from Mike's shoulders, nails dragging against his skin lightly and coming to rest on Mike's waist. They make out sloppily when all of the smoke is inhaled between them, and Pac is grinding down against Mike's thick thigh.