#NEITHER of them were even MARGINALLY HOT!!!

[qwantzfeed]

I had it made for just such an occasion!  I could've used this money for anything else, Utahraptor!  And yet.  AND YET

[v6quewrlds]

❝ candy paint, l. norris. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: lando norris is a lot of things: 100% honest is not one of them. good thing you're around to make sure he owns his weaknesses.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: first lando fic everyone cheer!! finding my footing writing lando's personality (dry asf) but I'll get there lmao day three of my no nut november series.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, friends with benefits, the max mentioned is fewtrell not verstappen, oral (male receiving)protected sex, neither reader nor lando can shut the fuck up.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: lando norris x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 2k.

"You're kidding, right?" you said into the phone, your voice laced with a hint of skepticism. The rain pattered against the window of your apartment, matching the rhythm of your thoughts. You had just returned from a week-long work trip and were looking forward to a quiet evening in.

Lando's voice was as persistent as the rain outside. "Come on, mate. It's been too long. You know I can't wait." His tone was a blend of playful and demanding, the kind that usually made your heart flutter. But this time, you had to draw a line.

"Lando, seriously," you said, a smirk playing on your lips. "What about your little bet with Max?" The mention of Max's name brought a mischievous glint to your eye. You knew how much he hated losing, especially to his friends.

Lando chuckled, the sound echoing through the line. "I wasn't sticking to the bet anyway. I've got to see you." His voice grew husky with desire, the kind of voice that made your knees wobble and your resolve waver. "I'll come to you."

You hesitated, your eyes narrowing as you considered his plea. The thought of seeing Lando sent a warm shiver down your spine. You could almost feel his strong hands gripping your hips, his breath hot on your neck. "Fine," you relented. "But if you want to come over, I'm telling Max you caved."

"You wouldn't," Lando said with mock horror, and you could almost hear his grin.

"Oh, I absolutely would," you replied, the challenge in your voice unmistakable. "You're the one begging to see me, remember?"

The line went quiet for a beat, and then Lando sighed dramatically. "Alright, fine, whatever. I'll be there in twenty."

Twenty minutes later, the sound of the door opening and closing was like music to your ears. You felt the heat of Lando's presence before you even saw him. He was soaking wet from the rain outside, his white t-shirt clinging to his muscular chest. You couldn't help but laugh at the sight of him. "You look like a drowned rat," you said, standing up from the couch where you had been scrolling through your phone.

"Charming," Lando shot back with a smirk, shaking his wet hair like a dog and spraying droplets across the floor. He stepped closer to you, and you could smell the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the freshness of rain. "But it's worth it if it means I get to see this gorgeous face." He leaned in to kiss you, but you playfully pushed him away. "What, no greeting for the man who braved the storm to see you?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn't hide your smile. "Take off your clothes before you drench the whole place," you said, stepping aside. You watched as he peeled off his shirt, revealing the defined abdomen and muscular arms that had your knees growing weaker by the second. You made no effort to hide your eyes sweeping over his form as you bit your bottom lip.

He kicked off his shoes and socks, leaving a puddle by the door. "Better?" he asked, a glint in his eye as he moved closer.

"Marginally," you replied, trying to keep your cool. But when Lando's hands reached for your waist, pulling you into his warm embrace, you melted against him. His touch was like a warm blanket on a cold night, comforting and revitalizing all at once.

You kissed with an intensity that spoke of weeks of pent-up longing, your tongues dancing in a familiar rhythm. His hands slid down your back, cupping your ass, and you felt his erection pressing against your thigh. "You're going to be the end of me," he murmured against your lips.

You pulled away just enough to whisper, "You're the one who couldn't wait." You stepped back, taking his hand and leading him to the couch. With a swift motion, you straddled him, your cotton shorts riding up your thighs. Lando's hands roamed up your legs, his thumbs teasing the hem, hinting at what was to come.

Your round brown eyes searched his emerald ones, a silent question lingering between you two. "You sure you're ready to lose?" you asked, your voice low and sultry. The room was filled with the sound of your ragged breaths and the distant patter of rain.

Lando's grin was all the answer you needed. "Love, I'd do anything to taste you right now." His thumbs hooked into the waistband of your shorts, and with a quick pull, they were around your ankles. He groaned as he felt the heat of your bare skin against his.

You giggled, a sound that was music to his ears, and leaned back, placing your hands on his shoulders. "Well, you're in luck," you said, your voice dripping with seduction. "Because I'm feeling quite generous."

Without breaking eye contact, Lando reached for the waistband of his sweats pulling it down with a slow, deliberate movement. His erection sprang free, and you couldn't help but gasp. He was always so beautifully aroused, so ready for you. You slid your hand over it, feeling it pulse beneath your touch.

He groaned, his eyes closing briefly before snapping open again. "Don't tease me," he warned, his voice strained.

"Who's teasing?" you said, your smile wicked. You kneeled off the couch, your soft dark curls brushing against his chest, and took him in your mouth. Lando's grip tightened on the couch cushions, his body arching off the cushions with a hiss.

"Fuck, babe," he groaned, his eyes rolling back. Your mouth was warm and wet, moving over him with the kind of expertise that only came from knowing someone's body intimately. You took him deep, your tongue swirling around the head before pulling back to tease the sensitive underside. You knew every inch of him, every spot that made him squirm, and every spot that made him beg.

You felt a rush of power, your eyes sparkling with amusement as you watched Lando's reaction. You loved the way he lost control around you, the way his cocky exterior crumbled to reveal the desperate need beneath. You bobbed your head faster, taking him deeper each time, until you felt his thighs tense and his hips jerk upwards.

"Goddammit," he breathed, his hands finding their way into your hair, guiding your movements. "I can't wait anymore." He pulled you off him, his eyes dark with need. "Get on top," he said, his voice a gruff command.

Your heart raced as you straddled him, your own desire matching his. You watched as he reached into the pocket of his sweats, retrieving a condom he casually slid over his length. Then you felt him at your entrance, his fingers eagerly pushing your panties to the side, and with a little wiggle, you sank down, enveloping him in your warmth. Lando's eyes rolled back in his head, a silent groan escaping his lips. The sensation of him filling you was overwhelming, a sweet ache that you had missed.

You found your rhythm quickly, your bodies moving together as if you had been practicing this dance your whole life. Lando's hands roamed your body, cupping your breasts and squeezing your hips as you rode him. Your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving little half-moons of pressure as you rose and fell. Each time you took him in, you felt like you were claiming a piece of him, a piece that was yours and yours alone.

The sound of your bodies slapping together filled the room, a testament to your passion. You leaned forward, your breasts brushing against Lando's chest, and whispered, "Couldn't even go two weeks, could you?" Your voice was teasing, but it held an underlying satisfaction. You knew you had the power to make him break his bet.

"Fuck the bet," Lando groaned, his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. "You're all I need." His words were punctuated by his hips bucking upwards, pushing into you with a desperation that sent a shiver down your spine. The room grew hotter, the scent of your desire mixing with the dampness from the rain outside.

Your movements grew more frantic, their breaths mingling in the air. The couch creaked beneath you, a testament to the intensity of your passion. You felt yourself getting closer, your inner muscles tightening around him. Lando's grip on your hips grew firmer, his fingers digging into your skin.

"Come for me," he urged, his eyes burning into yours. "Let go, baby."

You threw your head back, your dark curls bouncing off your shoulders as you picked up your pace. The sensations grew more intense, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge. Lando's hands moved from your hips to your breasts, his hands squeezing at the bouncing flesh before leaning down to bring his mouth to the peaks. You gasped, the pleasure shooting straight to your core.

"Yes, just like that," you moaned, your voice a little raspy. The warmth of his mouth on your breasts sent shockwaves through your body. You felt your orgasm approaching, the familiar coil tightening in your belly. You leaned into him, your movements becoming erratic as you chased the feeling.

Lando could feel you tightening around him, your breath coming in short gasps. He knew you were close, and it was his undoing. He thrust upwards, his own release building. "Fuck," he groaned, his eyes meeting yours, silently pleading for you to let go.

With a cry, you did. Your orgasm washed over you, making your body convulse. You felt him swell inside you, his own climax following closely behind. You held onto each other tightly, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony until the waves of pleasure subsided.

For a moment, you stayed just like that, panting and sweaty, your hearts hammering in your chests. Then, Lando leaned in to kiss you, a gentle brush of his lips that spoke of affection and satisfaction. He pulled out of you with a soft groan, and you felt a twinge of loss. But the warmth of his body remained, his arms still wrapped around your waist.

"You're amazing," he murmured against your neck, his voice a low rumble that made your skin prickle. You leaned into the embrace, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. This was your thing, your little slice of heaven, left uncomplicated despite your close friendship.

You lay there for a while, your bodies entwined and your breaths slowing. The rain outside had turned into a gentle pitter-patter, lulling you into a state of post-coital bliss. It was moments like these that made the world seem to stop spinning, where the only thing that mattered was the warmth of each other's skin and the sound of your hearts beating in unison.

You leaned back and looked into his green eyes, the corners of your mouth curling up in a knowing smile. "So," you began, "Are you going to man up and text Max now, or should I?"

Lando groaned, his head falling back against the couch cushion. "You're enjoying this way too much," he said, a hint of a grin playing on his lips.

"I like seeing you squirm," you replied, your voice light and playful. You reached for your phone on the coffee table, your eyes gleaming with mischief. You knew Lando was competitive to a fault and losing was not something he took kindly to, especially not when it came to something as serious as a bet with Max.

Lando's eyes narrowed playfully as he watched you type away, his arms still around your waist. "Don't be too detailed," he murmured, his grip tightening slightly.

You glanced up at him, your smile widening. "Oh, I won't," you said sweetly, sending the text. "But he's going to know you didn't last five minutes."

Lando's eyes shot open. "You didn't!"

"Oh, I did," you said with a laugh, the sound like a melody in the quiet room. "And you know what?"

He tugged on your hair gently, bringing you closer. "What?"

"It was worth it," you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity. "Every single second."

You kissed him softly, your tongue darting out to trace his bottom lip. Lando's eyes closed, savoring the moment, his arms tightening around you. He knew you were right, that the thrill of being with you was worth any bet.

[zvdvdlvr]

Food for thought: secret relationship with Aaron. Not that you're trying to keep it a secret but neither of you were ready to tell the team and now it's almost a game waiting to see who figures it out. Either way even if your relationship was in the open I don't think hotch would engage in any romantic conversation or pda of any kind in the office or in the field BUT I raise you this the man is a not so secret nerd, he's well read, and certainly a romantic at heart...passing notes. Love notes scribbled on scrap paper tucked away at your desk to find. Little notes left in the books he lends you "this part reminded me of you" or even texts through the day just to say "I love you" plain and simple I could go on about this forever 🤭

HEGEHEHEGEHEHEHEH YES. TRUST AND BELIEVE THAT AARON IS A NERD AND A SAP.

Aaron took note of your favorite authors, songs, poets, and artists. Just a a casual pick-me-up (or rather Aaron hoped it helped lighten your mood), Aaron would use a designated hot pink sticky note to scribble out a little phrase from a poem you had been mentioning consistently. Then when you were off to lunch or just out, Aaron would tuck it neatly onto the bookmarked page of a book or file you were working on.

And you better believe he’d circle phrases (lightly) in pencil and write little notes in the margins of your shared books. If Aaron’s feeling particularly joking during the day, he’ll send you the link to Shakespeare’s sonnet 130 and say ‘Reminds me of you lol’. It makes you laugh every time.

And his texts during the day are so tooth achingly cute im in pain thinking about it/j. 😣😣 Aaron tends to stay away from his phone or most technology on a case, but you were involved- possibly too involved- on a case. Aaron watched your face light up as you read the message: ‘I love you, sweetheart.’

Can’t forget when you’re asleep at night and Aaron’s away for some fucking reason. He doesn’t get too detailed (he doesn’t need too!) but he’ll send you those: ‘You’re sleeping right now, so I wantes to let you know how much I’m in love with you’ texts, sleepily going on about everything about you.

And imagine making a shares playlist between you and Aaron :,). Or not even a shared playlist- you could just send Aaron a song during a boring day of paperwork. He’ll listen to it and think of you, looking at the lyrics and writing the song down for future reference just in case.

Another thing Aaron does is doodle. I know how ridiculous and absurd it sounds, but just little stick figures and a heart or a tiny recreation of a scene from a book you’d recently read. He doesn’t have time most days to actually give them to you, so he just tears them off and tuck the hot pink sticky notes and paper scraps of doodles into your desk and around your home to find for later :)

[tiredofthehumanlife]

You know I'm something of an alt person myself

Barbie dolls: rosekiller x male! Alt! reader

Word: 1.1k

Summary: youre a pain in the ass to your two boyfriends during class

Warnings: my grammarly crashed and fucked like half the fic so it was grammar checked by a people, you're a little pain in the behind, very small amount of he him pronouns for r, it's not specific on what type of alt you are but Barty lightly bullies you, a couple of sex jokes but this is rosekiller so what were you expecting, Evan is kinda herding you and Barty in the right direction, you use Evs and Evie (ev-e) as Nick names for Evan so idk you like them or could just be trying to annoy them thats up to you, bad out of date joke that doesn't match the seventies, suck my big fat cock you absolute dweeb boofuckinghoo, mention of knives

Request: dude seriously I'm being serious stop snooping in my shit you are such a disrespectful roommate

History of Magic was so incredibly boring. Maybe it was something about the weird cold and yet hot temperature that made you feel like you should just roll over and fall asleep. Maybe it was the monotone teacher making your eyes droop. Maybe it was the frequent reading assignments that could not have more words.

Instead of pretending to pay attention, you decided to bother your two boyfriends. Unfortunately for them, they were sitting on either side of you so neither one of them was safe. You started by simply repeating Evan’s name over and over. He eventually stopped responding to you, keeping his eyes on the blackboard. You decided you had to take it up a notch, drawing cartoon penises in the margins of his work. Evan did not appreciate that. He took your pencil away, before stealing your eraser to scrub away your drawings.

You turned away from Evan to the other side. Barty was your next target. He had his arms crossed over his desk, head plopped on top. His face was hidden in his cave of nap-itude. You leaned closer to him, poking his arm over and over again.

“Babe.” you whispered, making sure the teacher couldn’t hear you even if he wanted to. Barty hummed in response.

“Babe.”

“Hm?” You kept poking his arm.

“Babe.”

“Yes?”

“Baby.”

“Yes, my love.”

”Babe.”

“What?”

“Baby.”

“What do you want, dickhead?” Barty lifted his head, shaking it to throw his hair back. You shrugged.

“Who’s hotter; Me or Evs?” You asked. Barty pouted and dropped his head back down.

"You know I can't choose, my dick stands for the both of you.” He muttered, turning his head away from you. You sighed, turning towards Evan instead.

“Evie?” Evan glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

“Are you going to ask me who I think is hotter; you or Barty?” Evan whispered, scribbling down a few notes. You scoffed.

“No.” You were. “How could you think so little of me?” Evan hummed, not giving you the time of day to entertain your ridiculousness. You tried to sneak away your pencil from Evan, earning a slap on the hand. Your hand shot back, deciding to leave it in your lap instead.

“So, my lovely Evan, what’s new with you? How are the kids? Such and Such, please entertain me?” You waved your hand in a circular motion. Evan shrugged, still silent.

“Evs, baby come on. You can’t possibly care about this class that much.” You said, poking Evan’s notebook. Evan sighed and looked up from his notes. He dropped his pencil onto his desk, before turning towards you. He reached towards your lap, taking both your hands into his.

“Please, baby. We have barely ten minutes before this class is over. Then I will entertain you to the fullest, I’ll do a full ballet routine if it means you stop drawing dicks on things. Okay?” Evan said, staring into your eyes. You sighed, rolled your eyes, and puckered your lips out in acceptance. Evan dropped one of your hands, cupping your cheek instead. He gave you a light peck before turning back to his work.

You spent the last few minutes of class annoying Barty. By the time class was dismissed, you were shooting out of your seat. Barty slowly followed after you, wiping the sleep from his eyes. Evan was the last to the door, packing up all his notebooks and pens. When he finally started moving toward you, you skittered out into the hallway. Barty waited for Evan, reaching his hand out for him when Evan got closer. Evan watched you jump up onto the stone bench. Evan's fingers intertwined with Barty’s.

“Don’t! It'll hurt!” Evan yelled after you. Your head snapped around. You waved him off, jumping from the edge of the stone bench. You might have underestimated the drop. Now that you were on the ground you were sure, that it most definitely hurt your leg. You grimaced, pretending like it didn’t hurt so Evan didn’t try to tell you he was right.

“Told you ” Evan whispered, though you still heard it. You grimaced, glancing back at him. You waited by the bench. They finally caught up with you. Barty swung his arm around Evan’s shoulders. You walked next to Evan, even though it was terribly slow at their dragging pace.

As you moved through the courtyard, you spotted a flower a few steps over. You gasped and lunged for it. You were pulled back by a magical force. You glanced behind yourself to see Evan dragging you away by your studded belt. You sighed, staying by his side again. Evan hooked his finger into your belt loop, keeping you close.

Barty slumped onto the common room couch and collapsed into Evan's lap. He didn’t get much sleep last night, he was a tad busy helping Regulus with his homework. You settled in front of the coffee table, accio-ing a stack of cards to keep yourself busy. Evan whispered your name, making you look up. He patted the seat on the couch next to him. You dropped the cards and plopped yourself into the seat next to him. He leaned towards you and kissed your temple.

“Thanks for giving me the last ten minutes of class.” He muttered, pulling you closer by slipping his arm between you and the couch.

“That class is just too boring.” You whispered, trying not to wake Barty in Evan's lap. Evan hummed.

“And yet you decided to pester Barty and not me, which I am grateful for.” You grumbled, not really wanting to say your welcome for not annoying Evan on purpose.

“Blah blah blah, that's what you sound like.” You retorted, ignoring Evan's repeated kisses on your face.

“I love you, my little pain in the ass.” Evan muttered to you, making you push his face away with your palm. Barty sat up and glared at you two.

“It is terribly hard to sleep when you two punks won't shut the fuck up.” Barty said, crossing his arms over his chest. Evan sucked his teeth. You glared back at Barty.

“You're one to talk about punks, Barty.” You pointed at him, pretending to start an argument. Even before you started dating, pretend verbal fights were a favorite pastime between you two.

“Yeah, okay. Mister ‘cut my life into pieces, this is my last resort’.” ; Barty said, holding a hand up to his face in dramatics. You frowned and clasped your hands together. Barty looked up when you didn't retort and pouted.

“No more knives as gifts for you.” You muttered and leaned back into Evan. Evan threw his arm over your shoulders, immediately welcoming you into his side. Barty groaned and flung himself across both of your’s laps. His head landed on your lap.

“I'm sorry, will you take me back? Pretty please, I didn't mean it.” Barty said, batting his lashes up at you. You hummed, scratching his scalp in response. Barty sinks into you, dropping his arm off the side of the couch.

He fell asleep not long after. You and Evan talked about your days in a quiet tone, actually trying not to wake up Barty this time., Eventually Dorcas walked through the common room and fake gagged at the pda on her way to her dorm.

[nb-octopus-writes]

once you’re in the hive, the other bees assume you’re supposed to be there

[Masterpost]

Chapter 3: A Series of Unintended Events

Wordcount: 1.3K

~~~~

The pancakes are delicious, light and fluffy. Virgil only has two, because he did already have cereal and unlike Remus his stomach is not a bottomless pit into which he can pour an unending stream of nutrients. But they're delicious, and he's glad Calico convinced him to try a bit.

After breakfast, Virgil helps with the dishes because Remus still isn't up yet, and neither is Janus—probably still curled around him like a hot water bottle—and he has nothing better to do.

Princey meanders in after him, and despite having just demolished an entire stack of pancakes and a decent amount of scrambled eggs, starts rooting around in the fridge. He emerges with a plastic-wrapped plate of tiny pumpkin pies and leans against the counter to eat them directly off the platter, clearly pleased that the party having ended means he can have the leftovers.

“So you're the reason the chinese buffet has a twenty plate limit,” Virgil teases after Princey eats several in a row without pausing. Virgil had a few of those tiny pies last night, so he knows they're good, but Princey is absolutely chowing down on them.

“Hey, that was not my fault!” Princey protests. “Besides, a place that calls itself ‘all you can eat’ shouldn't even have a limit.”

“It shouldn’t,” Virgil agrees. “But I've never hit the limit myself, so I thought it was reasonably high. I suppose that a buffet operating in the same town as twin black holes would need to be cautious to protect their profit margins though. How much did you two pack away before they asked you to stop?”

“Wouldn't you like to know, weather boy,” Princey says. “Anyway, it really wasn't us.”

“No?”

Princey sighs. “No, Count Woe-laf,” he says. He is just too much fun to tease. “If my father is to be believed, it was actually him and a couple of his college buddies.”

Virgil laughs. “Oh, so it's definitely genetic, then!”

Princey chuckles, popping the last tiny pie into his mouth and setting the plate on the counter. Virgil takes it and rinses it off so he can put it in the dishwasher with the others. “Yeah. Dad says they absolutely cleared out the seafood section, and most of the mac and cheese, and ate a sizable portion of pretty much everything else. If you get him going, he'll give you a very long and probably quite embellished retelling of the many courses they had. They never got kicked out, but the next time they went, they were told that there was now a limit to just how much they could eat.”

“Ah, alas,” Virgil says. “I bet it was a fabulous feast, though.” He finishes loading the dishwasher and checks under the sink for soap. They have pods, which is very convenient for measuring, or rather for not having to do that. He pops one in and turns the machine on.

“So, if I'm Count Olaf antagonizing you, which Baudelaire does that make you?” he asks. “Not bookish Klaus, surely. Maybe Sunny? I think she could demolish a plate as quickly as you, though her small stomach wouldn't have the same capacity.”

Princey's eyes light up and he leans forward. Instead of answering the banter, he says meaningfully, “I have the full series on dvd.”

“I'm not doing anything right now,” Virgil says. Princey beams.

“Great! I'll make popcorn!”

~

They have a dedicated home theater. The tv is large, the seats are comfortable, and the speakers are crisp and clear without being too loud. Princey made a bucket of popcorn for each of them, and Virgil isn't very hungry right now considering he very recently had breakfast, but he munches idly on it as they watch, and comment, and theorize. Princey is fun to watch tv with, and doesn't mind Virgil talking while they watch.

They're in the middle of an episode when Remus appears in the doorway.

“Hey Emo,” says Remus. “I gotta get home and feed my cat before she figures out how to unlock the front door and hunts me down. I was gonna take you home on the way, but it looks like you're in the middle of something.”

Virgil considers. He looks at the screen, where Lemony Snicket is explaining that if you're allergic to something, it's generally best not to put that thing in your mouth, especially if the thing you are allergic to is a cat. He looks back at Remus. “You swear you'll come back for me?”

“On my favorite dildo and Janus's two cocks,” Remus says with feeling, and Virgil can't help the chuckle that escapes him.

“I'll be okay,” he says. “Go get Diesel Fuel her lunch.”

Remus salutes him and disappears.

They finish the episode and Remus hasn't come back yet, so they go on to the next one. During the theme song though, Nerdbot appears to inform them that they too need to eat lunch.

Virgil thought Princey might protest, given how invested he's been, but he pauses the show and gets up. “C’mon, Tall Dark and Stormy,” he says to Virgil. “If we skip lunch to watch tv all day we get a lecture about why proper nutrition is important.”

“You do,” Nerdbot confirms. “Points of note include the necessity of proteins and vegetables in addition to carbohydrates.”

“Is popcorn a vegetable?” Virgil asks.

Nerdbot raises an eyebrow. “It is a carbohydrate, actually. It is also primarily air.”

It seems that all the other guests have gone home, so it's just the four of them now. The table is back to its smaller size, and Princey has Virgil sit at the corner beside him, so they can keep talking. Nerdbot sits on Virgil’s other side, and Calico sits at the head, across from Princey.

Lunch is baked chicken and a vegetable dish that Virgil doesn't really expect to like, but he takes a polite spoonful anyway because he's sure Nerdbot is capable of a very powerful ‘eat your vegetables’ lecture, and he doesn't feel like hearing it right now.

The vegetables do not taste bad. Virgil’s not sure why he's surprised anymore considering everything he's eaten in this house so far—with the possible exception of the cereal, which doesn't count—but the vegetables are the opposite of bad.

“Why are you such a good cook,” Virgil says to Calico, who brightens. “I need to come eat your food more often.”

“He has a magical tongue,” Princey says, making heart eyes across the table at him.

Calico blushes slightly (not nearly as deeply as he had last night) and clarifies, “I'm very good at tasting, and I have a lot of practice combining flavors. I'm also not afraid of fats and salt, and that helps.”

Virgil has two servings.

Remus still isn't back yet when they finish lunch, and Virgil is starting to get concerned.

Don't forget me, he texts, and goes into the room with the couches to wait.

This couch really is comfortable. And Virgil got barely any sleep last night, between staying up late and waking up so fucking early, and also probably never actually falling into a deep sleep at all since there were other people in the room. And his stomach is full and warm. And the couch is so comfortable. 

He barely has time to notice how heavy his eyelids are becoming.

~

Virgil wakes, briefly. The room is dark. Someone has covered him with a blanket. He finds his phone and checks it. There's a message from Remus, about half an hour after Virgil’s last text.

came to get you but you were very asleep, it says. text me when youre awake and wanna go home

Attached is a selfie, with Virgil in the background passed out on the couch.

Virgil groans. fucker, he texts back, and falls back asleep.

~~~~

Chapter 4: The Second Morning

[igotanidea]

Betrayal: Jason Todd x reader (college AU)

warnings: Jason is an absolute piece of shit in this one, swearing, sexual content, vulgarity. MDNI!!!

***

College!Jason Todd with his reputation as playboy, bad boy and heartbreaker.  Cold and distant, obviously carrying some sort of mystery in him. Smoking his cigarettes on campus without giving a damn about the rules and/or no smoking signs.

So many rumours about him, starting from the one where he was a mafia boss, ending on the one in which he was a demon, who only waited to make a blood pact in exchange for one's soul.

And is there something hotter for a girl than a man of legends?

Is there anything more enticing than a guy a woman can fix?

Yeah...

No.

So all the female students are almost offering themselves to him on a silver platter, just waiting to get a piece of that legendary huge ---

Jason couldn't care less about the rumours about himself, but he never did anything to clear them out. If anything - he made sure they stuck with him for a little longer, maintaining the reputation.

And slowly starting to take pride in them. Even boosting a little 

Until he took interest in Y/N. She was neither a mouseburger nor a beauty queen. Just somewhere in the middle.

But her brain--

Her smart remarks and on-point observation during the classes? That was fucking HOT.

So the bad boy Jason Todd was having hots for the average girl. Real hots.

And it was bad, forcing him to take any precaution possible to avoid this feeling spinning out of control.

Obviously, ending up more and more enamoured with her with every other class.

And to make things worse - she noticed that. And clearly did not care about the facade and pose he was putting on in public. Y/N focused on his eyes, absorbing every word of the novel they had been reading during the lecture. On his hands, almost twitching with the need to write annotations on the margins. Of him biting his tongue to not, under any circumstances, answer the question correctly and profoundly.

And every time it made her smile.

And that smile was making him crazy.

And that craziness ended up in some very careless decisions and very accidental meetings. Accidents neither of them regretted after six months of secret dating.

It was hard though.

Hard to pretend like he didn't care about her, when they were passing in the hallway and he was with his buddies.

Hard to act like he didn't want to scream his feelings for the entire college to hear.

Hard to put her through constant pain and heartbreak.

But he couldn't stop. She was like a drug to him, and apparently - he had the same effect on her.

Two people in love, lost in the web woven out of lies and deceit. Unable to just be themselves in the world where everyone seemed to be too focused on false pretences.

But how long could young adults with bursting emotions, yearning for each other last?

And one night, it simply became too hard for him to stop himself from pressing her against the bookshelf in the library on their late night dates, when no one could see them.

Or so they thought.

So the next day, when she stepped into the corridor, immediately welcomed by suggestive stares from people watching some video on their phones and laptops, it was obvious something was wrong.

And then came laughing at her. Followed by not-very-subtle remarks about her body.

Twisting and turning to get even a glimpse of what was on that camera recording everyone seemed to be very acquainted with, Y/N finally had her dream come true.

Someone did see her and Jason in that empty library.

Recorded their encounter.

And published the video.

Y/N's naked body, with her legs wrapped around Jason's waist, with books shaking above her head from the sheer force of thrusts, was on full display to the camera and - subsequently - for everyone to see.

And she could swear that for the longest moment her heart simply stopped beating.

But that was not the worst.

The worst part was seeing Jason with his buddies and with some popular girls, watching the same video at the other end of the hallway.

Laughing at it together, him too, probably the loudest.

He didn't do a single thing to defend her or stop the clip from expanding.

Instead - he was laughing and throwing even worse remarks, publicly posing as the well-known playboy and bad boy who just happened to score another chick.

Their eyes met for a single moment, her own filling with tears at the betrayal, as she turned around and withdrew to her dorm room alone. Without a single soul to comfort her. Humiliated and stripped of dignity and privacy.

He saw her and his heart broke. He wanted nothing more than to chase after her, get her in his arms, hug her, hold her, shield her from everyone and protect her.

But he didn't.

Living up to the persona, while simultaneously tearing up everything he had built with her.

Getting almost vulgar in his comments while wailing from guilt and shame deep inside.

Hating himself for this play pretend, for being someone he wasn't, breaking the only woman he loved.

But he still didn't stop.

His buddies followed him across the campus for the whole day. Girls were all over him like he was some sort of hero,  waiting to be another one to get some. 

After all, if Jason was ready to put his dick in that pathetic, worthless, little fatty Y/N, he sure as hell would do the same for the prettiest, hottest girl on campus right?

And it made him sick to his stomach. Everyone seemed to treat him like a hero, while slandering Nes and calling her a hose. The woman Jason loved, even if only in secret.

Y/N hasn't been seen on campus the entire day.

She didn't show up to her favourite classes and the literature lessons were oddly empty, dull even, without her challenging, intellectual input.

No one heard a word from her and the students were smart enough to keep the leak away from the faculty, so no lecturer took interest in the case. 

The doors to Y/N's room were decorated with the printed print screens from the video, very vulgar drawings of dicks and a lot of offensive words.

And that was the sight Jason saw, when he finally got the guts to come to her door in the middle of the night with face covered tightly by the hood.

There was no way to miss the bright red, fluorescent pain there.

Whore.

And that was the moment he knew. It was over between him and her. She would never forgive him for letting it happen. From watching it happen without even lifting a finger to help her. 

[hannahssimblr]

“Oh,” she says, perturbed, “Jude is here.”

I swipe the heel of my hand under my teary eye, “Yeah, he is. We’re doing maths.”

“Looks like it.”

“Shell, do you want to come in?” Jen says, “We were just taking a break if you wanted to talk about something.”

“Um, no, I’ll talk to you later.”

“No, come on,” she holds out her hands and beckons her over to us, “Come and chill out with us.”

Michelle’s journey to the bed is stilted, like she can’t imagine something more awkward than sharing space on a mattress with me, and I am awkward too, discomfort in my stomach as she occupies the patch of bed to Jen’s right, while I sit on her left, one earphone still dangling from my ear. 

Jen slings arms around us both, “I wish you two would just hang out,” she says, “Wah! It’s so silly, yeah, Michelle you’re, like, doing the emo thing right now and Jude has decided to be a Rugby Wanker, but why does that have to divide us? At the end of the day you’re both immigrants, and I’m gay. We’d be the ideal friend group,” she nudges us with her knees, “outsiders, yeah?” 

“Jude is not an immigrant in the same way. He’s white.”

“His grandmother on his dad’s side is Portuguese,” Jen says diplomatically, and we both roll our eyes, “God, I’m joking, I know it’s not the same,” She snatches hold of my face, “But look at his complexion, hm? Can’t you see it a little bit? That lit-from-within skin? God, he’s so pretty.”

Michelle makes a face, “Um, I think I’m going to go out and hang with Evan.”

“Isn’t that what you and Debra were shouting about just now?”

She goes a bit red, and eyes flit to mine for a moment and make me wish I wasn’t here. “Yeah, mam doesn’t want me to go out but like, she can’t really tell me what to do.”

“Okay, well, suit yourself. You’re missing out here though, Jude was just singing My Chemical Romance to me, and it was gorgeous.”

It’s my turn to feel embarrassed, “Clearly you’re not missing much. Um, have fun with Evan.”

“Yeah, I will,” She stands up and adjusts the hem of her black mini skirt, “Do I look okay, Jen?” Her tights have loads of holes in them, but I assume she wants them to be like that so I don’t give any insight.

“Yeah you’re hot. Go get rode.” She gives her a playful slap in the bum and she’s gone. We listen to her boots thunder down the stairs, then the slam of the front door. Debra screams at her to come back, or at least put on a coat. She does neither.

“You’re so weird around Michelle,” Jen accuses me as we resume our trigonometry lesson, “Why do you do that? You just stop talking.”

“I don’t know. I guess I can sense that she doesn’t like me.”

“She would like you if you talked to her.”

“I don’t know, Jen. If she was going to like me she’d probably have done it already,” I scan the page of equations for something that looks familiar, and can’t even remember what we were working on. “I think I must have done something, or maybe she just doesn’t like the kind of person that I am.”

“But you’re the sweetest, nicest, cutest boy alive,” Jen protests, “That’s not it. I think it’s just a clique thing. She’s just used to hanging out with a certain crowd of people. She doesn’t think that the people who play sport are going to be nice to people like her.”

“Well, I hate that then, because it’s not true. Being on the school rugby team and not having greasy hair doesn’t make me an arsehole by default.”

“What you just said does.”

“What?”

“Saying she has greasy hair doesn’t really help your case.”

“It’s not Michelle who has greasy hair. I was thinking about the other people who hang around the back steps of the lunch room.”

A snort, “You can say Evan.”

“Yeah, Evan’s hair is greasy sometimes. But like, so what, I guess. He doesn’t have to wash it,” I find a doodle I did earlier in margin of the maths book, a little drawing of a guy with lank hair flopped over one eye and a mouth full of sharp, pointed teeth. “He also doesn’t have to be an arsehole, which he is, by the way. Not me.”

“Evan is actually pretty nice.”

“Hm.”

“I think you should make an effort with him. I think he’s just cagey, and I think if you took time to hang out with him and talk to him then you’d see that you actually have a lot in common, you know? He’s got really good taste in music, and he’s funny, and he likes to draw.”

“Yeah, I know, he and Michelle sit down at the back of my art class and scribble pictures of crying eyes and wilting roses and shit for the whole hour.”

“They’re so deep and romantic like that,” She says wistfully, and I can't tell if she’s joking. 

“Right.” 

“I think if you make an effort with him then you and Michelle can get closer and then we’ll all be like a big happy family. The perfect little friend group, hm?”

I snicker, “So I’d be going through this effort for your direct benefit?”

“Of course,” She says, rolling over to her back and shooting me a grin, “Who else would it be for?” 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[slickshoesareyoucrazy]

Stupid Hope

Hey, A. This is what I do at your grave now. I write a Tumblr essay to you because I'm still not going to talk out loud to you in the ground. I guess at least I'm not that crazy. (Yet.)

Your cup of rocks is still on your headstone. I guess I'm happy they're all still there. I added the ones I found for you in Ireland and Paris. J wanted me to bring British pound coins and leave them here. "But I guess you'd have to press those into the ground, which I'd guess you don't wanna do. I don't think people will leave money alone, even if it's not our money and the exchange rate and fees are shitty." 😂

Anyway, life continues to be a scavenger hunt full of your invisible, untouchable presence. Like Randy Newman's I Think It's Gonna Rain Today on my drive to work? Again...neither subtle nor funny. J told me to come today because it would be marginally less hot than yesterday, but I was afraid of rain. It wasn't raining when I left for the library this morning, but it rained the whole drive here to the cemetery. And miraculously (?) it quit when I got out of the car. With your rocks. After fucking Welcome to the Black Parade played as I turned into the cemetery. The Boy has noticed that. I have a Spotify playlist that's a catch all. I keep it on random. It has like 5000 songs in it...hours of music...every genre. There are exactly 3 My Chemical Romance songs on it. One of them plays whenever we're talking about you. Once all three of them played in the same 40 minute car ride. "That's fucking weird, Mom."

Anyway I guess I appreciate the rain. I'm here by myself again because who comes to the cemetery in the rain? Apparently me.

So I gave this piece a title. Stupid Hope. Because man, it's been a while since I've been here because of traveling and a new driver's license and other family stuff. I was really hoping to see that someone else had been here. I perked up a little because the stranger next to you has flowers and I thought they were yours for a second. But of course not. No one else has been here. And that honestly makes grieving harder, man. If someone else was here, it would feel real. And I'm still having a rough time with that. The old social anxiety and insecure attachment I've dragged around my whole life but was never there with you is there with you now. No one else is coming here so Stupid Jen Anxiety Brain says you aren't really dead. This is just an elaborate and complicated ruse to get rid of me. I'm the only one coming because you're not really here. You're still alive and happy somewhere just without me bothering you. Which in itself is Stupid Hope. Denial. That's just a fancier word for Stupid Hope.

I'm still amazed that every book I'm reading is grief related. It's you related. It's us related. I'm trying to accept you're here and that you wouldn't ditch me in such a dastardly complex way. You died. What the fuck, man? Obviously I'm not angry with you for dying but you did keep my Stupid Hope alive because you so consistently killed the Insecure Attachment monster. Shit, man, you were better at it than J, and that's really saying something. I try reaching out to other people. Kind people. People I love. L and D and online friends. People who do come back and show up if I extend myself enough but like...shit dude, you spoiled me. I never was afraid to be too much for you. You didn't ever let me feel that. You reached back. Other people just don't. Except J, but he lives in my actual house with me, so asterisk. I miss you so badly still every day. I'm so fucking lonely. And scared. I had a nightmare about J last night. That one I always have had, but it's the first time I've had it since you died. J said maybe in a way that's good, like I'm getting back to normal...'my old self' (he's got a lot of Stupid Hope too, I guess). But it's just abject terror of just how truly alone I'd be if I lost J now. It's even scarier now than it used to be because now I don't have, "Call A," as a coping option. And now I'm hot because it's not raining and there's just barely enough of a breeze to make the wind chimes go in this tree to my right (your left I guess). At least there's finally some grass here now. I'll come back in a few weeks. Or when you start making all the songs on the random car radio play titles with 'Rock' in them again. (Real rocks not rock n roll...I Am a Rock...We Want a Rock...Loves Me Like a Rock...) Or all the book titles that pop up in the holds lists or book bins to check in at work are about graves and cemeteries in fucking July (not October or Memorial Day).

I'll always come back with my Stupid Hope as long as you keep it alive like that still. You're still my best friend. I love you. But I'm going home for real now because yuck. 🥵🥵🥵

[soupedepates]

I gaze into the grey eyes of my tired lover.

"So you want to know?"

"Yes. Because I want to know you."

I smile and take her on my heart.

"I was born at the margin of a little town. Five kids reached maturity out of seven. I am the second one.

Although it was a city technically speaking, it felt like the countryside. We had hens in the backyard and two pigs.

Well, I met Tekla while playing outside with the neighbourhood's children. She was the daughter of the "weird lady in the woods". She was... odd. She always was.

I said first: "Go away, girls aren't allowed to play with us", you know, like a fool. Look at me now.

She took my younger brother's knife and started chopping her hair. She said then: "Now I am a boy like you, so I can play with you". For all of us, a girl should have long braids, and a boy should have an almost shaved head. To make it easier for mothers to fight against lice. So, of course, I shrugged and accepted her in our games.

If you're more of a hound, strong, fierce, and smarter than you seem, she was a rabbit. Easily frightened, but putting herself in danger all the time, with such eyes holding, in the honey of their irises, the mysteries of the universe. Her eyes were glittering gold in the sun and looked like raw honey otherwise. Big round eyes asking questions at everything. Her hair, once cut, couldn't be disciplined anymore. When it had regrew, it stayed a bushy mess.

I often called her an idiot hare. Because, you know, she knew she would get afraid, but did it anyway. And got paralysed by fear every single time.

When we started becoming more adults, I nicknamed her "bunny" fairly often. She gifted me my first dress. She was the only one who knew. I started to grow my hair because of her.

We got married at eighteen. We moved out quite far away; she wished to get away from her mother, who, for having met her a bunch of time, was a colossal bitch of a woman, and there were no place for me, no job I could pick up, and my older brother wanted me out of the house as soon as possible.

I never got along with him. We often fought. He used to find me too effeminate. Fuck, he was right. He did give me that scar. Don't worry, I broke some of his teeth and burst one of his eyes.

No, don't look at me like that. My father was a drunk and my mother was simple-minded, but we couldn't be called a bad-renowned family. They never laid hands on us. Never ever. And we were five hot-headed youths, always picking up fights. But we were honest people. My father worked at a workshop in the suburb, my mom worked for the same workshop, and we weren't rich by any mean, but neither were we poor. Lech was in an apprenticeship with the wheelwright. He just happened to be a dick. And as the only girl among four boys, even if they didn't know it, I had to be tougher than him. Mostly to piss him off.

So yeah. We got married and out of the town. We went near the ocean, in a small community. I worked on the fields and Tekla was a seamstress.

Oh, Tekla was a witch.

So yeah. I've never seen her sew, really. She cheated the system with her magic. She spent her time building us a home inside the cabin we bought with our savings.

I hunted to get meat on the table. I sold some of my venison, and we were starting to have quite a bit of money when I got her pregnant. We were, like, twenty. She wanted a child. I liked the idea of having a family before fixing my body. We had money for the baby, and we were stashing pieces for me to see a Love priest.

It was nowhere enough money, so I became a Hunter. Now we started to be a bit more comfortable. She carved herself the cradle.

Then... Well. It happened. I don't know how they knew, but they knew. First time I met the Inquisition. Someone had snitched on us - I knew who a bit later. They held me down on our bed and Tekla was crying and trying to escape their grip. There were eight of them.

I am strong. But three men were immobilising me. I struggled but was no match. I could scream at them. Did they even hear me? I don't think so. They forced her to let down her Glamour while threatening to kill our baby in her womb. But... They let me go without a mark. Tekla swore I never knew. She said she tricked me into believing she was a human. She lied to protect me.

They kept her in a cage next to their carriage for three days. With no food nor drink whatsoever. They got other witches in there. Poor girls. Some were barely teens.

Tekla said to me, the night before her death, while the stake was finally ready: "Don't cry, my little dove, I gave you all my love. I need you to be strong because I am so pitiful."

I was holding her feeble hand. She was shaking. My poor little bunny. Trapped in a cage. Famished. Dirty. Terrified. Still, she smiled. She needed me.

And she said: "Don't let go of my hand."

I didn't.

And she said: "You're beautiful. I am so happy to be loved by a beautiful woman."

I felt a weeping in my throat.

And she said: "Say you will save me. I beg you."

I couldn't lie.

And she said: "It's dark here, and I am scared."

Then the sun rose.

They tied her on the stake with the others. And they lit it on fire.

I saw her crying while her flesh was turning into ashes. While her bushy hair was caught in the flame.

And she ultimately stopped crying. She didn't have enough tears. I stayed strong. I stayed strong as she melted. She needed me to be strong.

When sun set, I found the snitch. I drew an arrow between his stupid eyes. He died on the spot. He should have suffered as much as Tekla suffered.

And I destroyed our home. With my bare hands. I shattered the cradle. Broke the toys. Tore all the clothes up. And the quilt too. Everything. It smelt like her and I was hoping to die here with her by the morning.

Early lights hit the threshold after a night of wailing. Pitiful, isn't it? I left forever furious. I wanted to reduce to shambles everything... Nothing mattered anymore, I was on my own now. And I only had to think about myself. I had to survive to spite them all off. I had to be better than them. I had to become egoistic, even if it meant losing the goodness in my heart. I was a dead girl walking, so why would I need a heart? It died while her skin melted...

Why are you crying?"

"It's tragic."

"It's me. I died this day. On the stake, next to her."

She holds me close.

"But with you, I feel like I'm alive again," I smile while stroking her hair.

[luverofralts]

Arkhelios Adventures

Duke Adrian Siew stared at the wall before him. The estate that he'd inherited had needed repairs over the years, some of which had been done by his ex-husband, Roman, while Adrian was trapped in the demonic void. The house that he'd come home to six years ago was still the same in many ways as the house he'd grown up in, though it had also changed noticeably.

Some things had been moved around, and others thrown out entirely. An old vase that was his mother's favourite had been broken when Theo was playing tag with his twin sisters and the cup that his father used religiously for tea had gone missing. What Adrian wouldn't give to find that mug and wrap his fingers around the handle like he'd done when he was small. On long, cold island nights, Duke Luke Siew had made his son hot chocolate in his own favourite mug so they would have something to keep them warm as they gazed at the stars on the beach. Adrian never thought that he could miss such a small, ordinary object as much as he did. It was just one small piece of the family that could never return to him.

The wall he had spent the last twenty minutes staring at was ordinary too. Just some white paint, an old desk and a bookcase that Evren swore each day was going to fall on either them or the children. It was Adrian's job to maintain the estate and put his own mark on it as he did so. The room was long past needing an update, but it was the last thing Adrian had left of his parents' legacy. They had set up the space, and chosen the colours. He could remember his father sitting at the small desk, filling out reports for the queen as his son watched television.

The twins were turning eleven in a few short weeks. Eleven years had passed since Adrian had last seen his parents alive. They had been thrilled to become grandparents, especially since Adrian was an only child. His mother especially had been excited to have two grandchildren to spoil, even if the marriage that had created them was falling apart. One of his few regrets about his marriage to Roman was that they had been too busy fighting to discuss baby names properly. Luciana had been named with Luke Siew in mind, but Roman had overlooked Eliza Siew when choosing names. This was something that Adrian had fixed when Fiolett Eliza Thorne Siew was born. He couldn't bear to not have a piece of his mother represented in his family tree. Adrienne had inherited Eliza's freckled spots, just as her father had, a fact that delighted Adrian. She wasn’t the only child who had inherited them either. Adrienne heavily favoured Roman's side of the family otherwise, but Luciana, Fiolett and the boys also carried a strong resemblance to the Siew family. His parents were gone, but he could still see tiny glimpses of them in his children.

The house was filled with the laughter of those children, something that Adrian cherished. Roman and Abe's house was always busy and Adrian's own home was similar. The house in Arkhelios was busier than the estate in Twikkii Island by a small margin, as security was tighter in the more expensive lot, but with the twins and Fiolett bringing in friends from school recently, it wasn't too far off from the Bellamys'.

Fiolett especially brought home children to play with. Her parents knew most of her class by name, having hosted them several times.

It was good to see Fiolett making friends so easily. Luciana was the same way, just like Theo. It was Adrienne that Adrian worried about. That girl was secretive and quiet and usually had her tarot cards out instead of her homework. She was a Bellamy through and through, a fact that neither of her parents knew how to address. Adrian could remember the many nights he and Roman had laid awake at night when they were married, trying to piece together the messy Bellamy family tree. Even the non-demonic family members seemed intimidating just looking at their pictures.

Theo had had special needs from the moment of his birth, which were well documented and all of his parents had trained for. If Theo collapsed in his presence, Adrian had multiple phone numbers to call, as well as Evren on call if magic was required. Deep down though, Adrian worried about his daughter. She had gifts just like her brother, but the world she seemed to thrive in was a dangerous place. Theo at least had proven that he could take care of himself, or if he couldn't, that he had help nearby. What support system did Adrienne need if a spirit became dangerous or some evil force tried to overpower her? It was a thought that kept her fathers up at night. It wasn't like Adrian could talk about his fear without triggering a breakdown of some kind in his ex-husband. Roman couldn't think rationally about his children, even when they needed him to. If they discussed Adrienne's safety, the next conversation Adrian would be having would be with his daughter as Roman tried to wrap her in bubble wrap and seal the door.

Luckily, Evren had confidence in his ability to protect their family. Though he wasn't a master warlock, Evren knew how to defend himself and his family from magical attack. Evren wouldn't break down because Fiolett scraped her knee, but Roman would. If anything were to happen to Adrienne, Adrian knew that Evren would be right behind her, doing what he could do to help. He was a good, reliable man that Adrian could depend on. He should really propose to him one day and make their family official, but every time Adrian thought about marriage, his mind revisited his first disastrous marriage. Evren was nothing like Roman, but still Adrian hesitated. Luciana was born legitimate and would inherit her father’s estate one day, and that was the only thing that mattered. A second wedding would be a lonely affair now that his parents were long dead and Maura had turned bitter from holding the crown. No, there was no need to rush into anything. He loved Evren and that would have to be enough for now.

"Honey, how good is your memory on magical history?"

Adrian popped into his office to find Evren, Everard and a pile of old photos on his desk.

"Magical history? Uh, vague? I helped Theo with a history paper a while ago, but I was only proofreading it. Why, what have you found?"

Evren shrugged while their son squirmed in his arms.

"I've been looking for Maricourts who either tried or specialized in blood magic," he replied. "I feel like I'm missing some, but I'm only remembering my own universe. There could be a million Maricourts here that I'm missing. I don't want Theo to go to his meeting unprepared. I need to know who appeared to him."

"I know. If this goes badly, I'm really worried about what Roman might do. He's taking this pretty hard and it's starting to impact the kids. He forgot Luci's game yesterday and broke down sobbing when I called him. The kids are worried."

Adrian almost continued his thought, but reconsidered. Evren was focused on magic and helping Theo. He didn't need to get distracted. While he still had his share of parenting mishaps, Adrian prided himself on knowing his children and their fears, wants and hopes. Being the best father that he could was his first priority and all of his paternal instincts were shouting at him to keep an eye on Adrienne. She had been even quieter lately, and he'd seen first hand the way that she watched Roman. It was almost as if she were the parent, and he was her small, naive child in need of protection. She knew something important, Adrian would put money on it, and somehow Theo was also involved. Those two were guarding something related to their father, he could just feel it. Once Theo's upcoming meeting was done and Roman calmed down slightly, Adrian fully intended to have a conversation with those two.

"Well, here are my top contenders," Evren sighed. "Old, powerful warlocks who dealt with blood magic. I'm not sure which of them had a daughter though, I'm still searching the records. It would be a lot easier if Theo had just got the kid's name. Any famous Maricourts from Twikkii Island that I'm missing?"

Adrian laughed, but picked up a picture from the desk just to be sure.

"No, luckily those assholes seem to be allergic to anywhere with a tropical beach. They're all over Pleasantview and Strangetown and even Crystal Cove a little, but not here. They're usually Pleasantview's problem, not ours."

"Yeah, same in my universe," Evren replied. "Though they weren't as deadly in my Strangetown as they are here. That Adam kid has quite the family."

"The Darktides or the Maricourts?" Adrian asked curiously. "I mean, we shouldn't tell Roman anything about either of them, but you and I should know as much as we can in case something happens."

"Both sides of the family have their issues, but my vote is for the Darktides for sure. Bullying, human sacrifice, probable murder and some really dark shit magically. They're pretty fond of demons too."

"Well, maybe Theo's demonic skills will earn some points with them," Adrian commented dryly. "But seriously? Human sacrifice, what the hell? Adam is far too quiet a kid to be involved in all that. He's not the type."

"No, he doesn't seem to be," Evren agreed quickly. "But historically, his ancestors were and we need to be prepared. The first rule of magic is to never disregard information that might be relevant to a future spell or problem. It all gets filed away in case you need it, and we just might need it."

"Do you know any of these warlocks? From your own universe that is. I can't imagine how hard it must be to be away from everyone you once knew, even though I'm incredibly grateful that you ended up here with me. Some of them must overlap with your old coven. That can't be easy."

Evren smiled wistfully and picked up the closest photo.

"Yeah, Blue Hair over here was my coven leader, Reogus. He looks just like I remember...well, I'm pretty sure his hair was brown back home, but still. He was my friend, and he always knew just what to say when things weren't easy. I miss him terribly. Even if Ewan is a competent leader here, I think Reogus was a better one. He had gifts that...that I think might make him Theo's mystery Maricourt."

"Really? Does he have a daughter?"

"Two, just in my universe anyway," Evren remarked. "I'm double checking the archives this afternoon to be sure. But more importantly, he had the ability to interfere with time. For his thesis in college, he successfully brought back the ancestral home of the Maricourts after it had been destroyed. The council couldn't believe it was possible, but there it was. He was working on freezing time, but it wasn't very promising."

Adrian paused for a moment, trying to think of a delicate way to phrase his concern.

"If he was experimenting with time when you somehow got lost in another time and universe, do you think that he might be responsible for sending you here? What if your timeline was what he was experimenting on?"

"It could be," Evren acknowledged. "The more I think about it, the more it starts to make sense. Why else would I be sent here? Why else would Theo be able to see and speak with someone in control of time? Maybe it wasn't an accident that I was sent here. Maybe it was all part of some elaborate plan."

Adrian ignored the rest of the warlock portraits on his desk, unable to process this possibility. What if it hadn't been an accident that Evren arrived in this time and place? If he was a test subject, would this time warlock send for Evren to return someday?

Adrian stared at the photo in his hand, which had rested on his desk since his own miraculous return. His father and aunt's images stared back at him, reminding him that nothing was truly eternal. Both of them were alive a mere eleven years ago. His father had once been in this very house, promising to be there for him, to help him raise his children.

Now most of his family was gone. Without Evren and Roman and Abe and all of their combined children, what did he have left in life? All of the love he felt for Roman was nothing compared to the deep feelings he had for Evren. If some strange warlock suddenly appeared to take Evren away from him, how would he survive that?

"He can't have you back," Adrian swore softly. "I won't let him have you back. You're mine and we have children and a future together. This warlock will die before he takes you from me."

Evren raised a concerned eyebrow at this declaration.

"I'm not going anywhere, my love. There won't be any need for violence. This man is interested in Theo only, it seems, even if he was the one to send me here. As much as I miss my old home, I've grieved and made my peace with being sent here. You and the kids are my home now, and no warlock or spell can ever change that."

"Damn right," Adrian agreed, pulling Evren into a firm embrace. Maybe it was premature for him to write off a second marriage so soon. Doing so would give him a legal claim to Evren should any warlock march through the door and demand him back. It was something to consider at least.

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

ok well as promised here they are. assorted solaris headcanons, none of them really relevant to the plot of the game but i stay silly

solaris lost her eye in the death engine incident, but didn't lose it to impalement or 'physical damage' in the conventional sense. the right side of her was tilted towards the shockwave at the time of the explosion, and the force of the ripple ruptured it. her left eye is in tact, thank god, but it sustained some minor damage too. her eyesight was never as good post the incident

speaking of the incident, it really messed up her hearing, too. if you start talking to her while she's turned away from you, she's probably going to need you to repeat what it is you said. so she can listen again while reading your lips this time around

as a result of these two injuries, she experiences both visual and audio hallucinations. really, the former sort of come with the territory of losing an eye- that happens to just about anyone, at least initially. the latter stem more from her zoraxis-induced paranoia than the injury itself though

the radiation from the explosion also cut down her life expectancy by a good margin but really when you're affiliated with zoraxis you're gonna die early anyways. so it's fine.

she didn't mind most of her coworkers, really. obviously she spent the most amount of time working with the fabricator, but what engagement she got from the others was never intolerable. usually.

anna was probably a second favorite of hers, though their niches never crossed particularly often. her defecting is what properly planted the first few seeds of abandoning zoraxis in her mind

… though, granted, solaris is still under the impression that anna didn't… survive her assassination. so. that really dialed her willingness to quit back by a little bit

she wasn't even on earth at the time. didn't even get a chance to say goodbye proper… she can't regret something that wasn't her fault, but…

despite her intimidating air (which she does on purpose, really), she's of the belief that she gels pretty well with the majority of her coworkers

not zor though. she knows full well zor really does not like her. the feeling is mutual.

solaris eats like a horse. especially when she's in the construction phase of any of her projects. she needs a lot of energy to sustain a body that large, you know how it is

she doesn't have enough of a grasp on the concept of labels to label herself (not to mention neither of these terms were coined within her lifetime), but she's a bicurious demiromantic. she would just be bisexual, but she hasn't actually dated a girl before, so at this point in her life she doesn't fully know that yet

…….. what. what are you looking at her like that for. she hasn't.

she got into a fair bit of fights as a kid, though not for any particular reason related to her popularity or lack thereof. she wasn't even really particularly aggressive, she just wasn't allowed to play sports and needed a way to burn off energy

she likes chocolate. milk chocolate especially

she's kind of a movie nut, though explicitly with horror films. while she finds most other genres a little too unengaging for her to enjoy all the way through, horror strings her along through the suspense- and, occasionally, the unintentional comedy- of it all

she's not great at singing (mainly due to her lack of vocal control), but she's a… deceptively good dancer. not great, mind you- not by a long shot- but it's evident she's been taught. you'd never know, though. because she'd never show you.

she's gotten a little bit obsessed with soaking in hot baths ever since she recovered from the death engine. back then, it soothed all the burn wounds. nowadays it just helps loosen up her muscles and such

[apphiarothowrites]

Modern MAS Musician Au ]

this has been poking my brain, will I ever write it who knows?

Ace Punk Rock; Machine gun Kelly- very mainstream and adored for his music

Sabo alternative punk; YUNGBLUD - less mainstream but very popular in the UK and with lgbt/marginalized groups

Now Ace and Sabo have collaborated and have some.. feelings but that ain't gonna be looked at too closely cause both of them are focused on their careers. Anyway they end up getting contacted by Whitebeard records (a huge deal, Edward newgate was known as the father of rock for a reason)

SO they come in and are met by Newgate himself, Basically the deal is they are to collaborate in a album to re-launch Di-Angels Return.

Now for those who don't Know Di-angel or for those who were fans Marci Diangelo was a HUGE deal back in the day. Like Joan Jett mixed with Lady gaga. The woman was the beginning of the punk rock scene, aggressively making out with both genders for paparazzi and generally being an absolute menace. Ace and Sabo of course say yes, (Sabo was inspired to start his own music career by her and Ace just thinks she's neat.)

Anyway the day comes where they are supposed to meet Her, Di- Angel, Marci and of course Sabo is kinda fanboying and Ace may or may not be very jealous cause come on, she was hot back in the day but she's in her 40s now. Instead of the busty blonde who once screamed into the microphone about flying away. They are met with a blonde man in a leather jacket.

"Uhm, excuse me?" Ace wants to be irritated but damn the guy is smokin hot. "We were supposed to be meeting Di-angel here."

The man blinks sleepy blue eyes, "yeah, I know."

Sabo bites his lip eye twitching, "You- Marci, we are meeting with Marci Diangelo, the singer."

The blonde man sticks a cig in his mouth, the corner quirking up. "Just said, I know. But you obviously are a bit behind the times." The man stands towering over both of them, "I go by Marco now, call me Marci again and I'll send you both through the door got it?"

Oh shit, fuck yeah, this is GOOD SHIT right here raccooon.

Ever since Pops suggested relaunching Di-Angel, Marco's been nothing but a roll of anxiety in human skin. While their family was fairly accepting, and the punk-rock community as a whole generaly was too, the larger scene is...well. Not quite the same. With most of the people of Marco's generation reacting across the entire spectrum from acceptance to hard rejection, Marco honestly didn't think it would be a good idea.

Yes, his voice and range dropped by a few octaves. Yes his old favorite dresses didn't fit the same any more (not that he wanted to put on most of them any more, just the shiny leather number but he had to get it tailored for the new dimension of his chest and hips). Yes, he's different now and that difference is something that he's gotten shit for from people he thought were friends and something that people he thought hated him were supportive of. It's been a roller coaster of strangeness and that was before Pops suggested relaunching his music career.

He left music because he knew the reactions would be. Mixed. once things got off the ground for his transition. Music never left him-Pops has multiple videos of him humming melodies and tapping beats from doctors' offices and one in a hospital bed-but the scene? He assumed the scene left him well behind.

Then Pops came to him with this insane idea and told him that these two young pups, rising stars and rough diamonds the both of them, were jumping and chomping at the bit. Marco didn't know what to think. He told Pops he'd reserve judgement until they met, but even then the hotcold churning in his stomach of anxiety was steadily eating his confidence of this whole thing working.

Then he meets them and despite the fact that neither of them knew who he was now, they were adorably eager just as Pops said. And, just as Pops said, they're talented if a bit raw. Unrefined, somehow. Both have a similar feel-rough voices in a slightly high medium range, but what really grabs Marco's attention is that they both actually play. Something that's fallen out of fashion in newer bands, that their lead vocalists know what to do with a guitar in hand, they both pick up an axe during the experimental jam session and they aren't too bad either. They know classic riffs and stings, whole lead lines from classic and punk rock staples.

Then something of a miracle happens. Ace picks up a bass and smacks out a fairly simple beat on 5, jumping octaves, and Sabo picks up Marco's old stage piece and. Oh.

That's the lead and bass of "I Feel Fine" and Marco's nothing if not a perfectionist for the classics. He grabs the mic they rigged up for his studio, coughs to clear his throat, and-

Ace does something to the bass beat, a lick or two to change things juuuuust a little and Sabo slips a few 16th and 32nd notes here and there, little twangs to change the key down a half step and suddenly its not The Beatles any more, it's something a little rougher, a little less refined, it's something from the back alleys of a queer bar that Marco used to dress butch for where he got called a good man for the first time. It's like being in love, if love were a dirty suckerpunch and a cigarette after-if love was two men who might not always be men-if love was a little less straight.

That ends up being the second song on the album a year later, a fucking Beatles cover that rockets them right to the top of the charts in multiple countries and forces Marco back into the spotlight no matter how much he tries pushing the younger stars forward and blames them for the majority of their sound. Three vocalists who trade off is definitely strange, especially since Marco is....well, not 'Marci' any more.

But it works, somehow Pops' insane idea doesn't explode in their faces, and if there's maybe a little charged something that happens in the limo ride home from their first awards show, something that's been building for months and months over heated eye contact and falling asleep on each other in the studio and appreciative whistling during the set and costume set-up of music videos, well.

That's their business and nobody else's. And if that charged something results in Ace stumbling down into Marco's kitchen in the middle of the night only to scream at Thatch who's in the tradition of making Marco breakfast after award shoes (started before Di-Angel and 'Marci' ever got big), who then screams right back at him which draws both Sabo and Marco down to see what the goddamn noise is about. Well.

That's also their business and nobody else's. (yes Thatch even you, get the fuck out of my kitchen, goddamn-yoi)

[dragonandtiger]

Dreaming To Reality: Oneiromancy Chapter Thirty Two - 03

“We are sorry.” It was the cold male voice again. Neither the Digimon nor the human seemed to hear it, but he could. It rang inside his head, even as his own thoughts grew dim. “This was the best that we could do for you, after everything you did for us.”

“This is goodbye for the final time, even though I doubt you remember us enough at this point to even understand what we mean,” the melodic female voice joined in. “Just the same, we wanted to thank you… and we wish that your next life will be far happier and far more peaceful than the one you sacrificed for our sake.”

He frowned, or at least gave the mental impression of one. His face seemed to be unresponsive, or possibly missing - much like the rest of his body. Yet, in spite of that lack of a body, it didn’t stop a foreign pain from clutching his soul. Something painful, and yet precious, that was beyond his grip and yet still lingered.

“Thank you… and goodbye.”

Slowly, the pain faded, and with it his thoughts. In its place a sense of peace washed over him. Before everything disappeared, his final thoughts were that he hoped to see these precious people again.

 Ryo jerked awake with a start, and a gasp. He stared at the wall as he panted, his eyes blinking blurrily, before he became aware of the fact that he was crying. The Chosen of Miracles paused and reached up to touch his cheek, wiping at the tears he felt there before staring at his fingers.

Elsewhere, at the Temple of Miracles, Zeed had a similar rough awakening. Though, he unfortunately had considerably less margin for error on his bed than Ryo did, and the Dorumon found himself falling onto the floor with a squawk. He grimaced and gave a small shake of his head, then stopped and noticed as tears streamed down his own cheeks, moistening his fur.

Zeed didn’t have much time to dwell on it when suddenly Mimi burst into the room, Palmon hot on her heels.

“Zeed-chama!” Mimi cried out, panic clear on her face. “Zhuqiaomon is attacking!”

“With a massive army!” Palmon chimed in, waving her hands frantically.

Zeed paused to banish the tears from existence so that no one could see them before he narrowed his eyes. Straightening up, he turned to meet Mimi halfway through the room before striding past her, purposely. When the Chosen of Purity stopped to look at him, he did not turn to meet her gaze.

“Call the others,” Zeed growled, his lips curled up in a snarl. “We end this - now.”

---

[slaanxsh]

Vaurogi, Children of Vaurog

Based off the HC/Canon I wrote/discovered rather recently.

The Vaurogi (or simply Vaurs) are a species of craggy-scaled bipeds that haunt the Naggarothi mountains of Black Spine. Occupying the caves and caverns of that frozen landmass, these creatures are not reptilian despite their scales and are set apart from the Snakemen of Ind and the Lizardmen of Lustria by a myriad of things. Namely, the blood of these beasts runs hot and they have neither the stoic brutality of the Children of the Old Ones or the malicious calculation of the Snakemen of Ind. The Vaurogi are more similar in temperament to the Beastmen that haunt the Empire. In fact, that is exactly what they are-- some far flung variant of those furred, brawny creatures of chaos, based from creatures different than, but as intelligent as humans.

However, the Vaurogi do not consider themselves the same or even remotely related to the Beastkin by origin. While beastmen care little for their beginnings, the Vaurogi are a prideful people who claim to come down directly and purposefully from the Chaos Powers, rather than being the result of an accident like the forest-beasts. The Beastmen are bastards and the Chaos Gods pay them little attention; the Vaurogi, meanwhile, claim the Serpent Mother Vaurog as their divine mother and the Chaos God Slaanesh as their divine father, knowing him as Slaatokan. Tz'arkan is their issue, called the Drinker of Worlds, and many powerful Cavelords claim lineage to that powerful daemon.

Twin-headed Vaurog is their primary god, a minor Chaos Power who was said to dwell in the deepest caves below Black Spine in ancient times. She craved souls fiercely and desperately and when her children could not manage her hunger, she returned to the sea of souls where she could consume as she liked. It is claimed that a rift that leads directly to the Chaos Realm was left in her wake, though no Vaurogi who has seriously sought it has come back alive.

While Vaurog is their primary god, some choose to venerate Slaanesh, viewing him as the mate of the Serpent Mother. They are often worshipped together as a pair and appeasements are given to the Pleasure Lord in the form of elf sacrifices, who are killed in a slow and agonizing fashion. Perhaps unexpectantly, Vaurogi are dexterous creatures and actively hunt down metals for personalization and to use in combat.

Physiology

Broadly, Vaurogs stood the height of an elf or taller, though they were broader and heavier by a significant margin. Their scales were thick enough that armor was redundant to most of them and they were known to boast an agility capable of keeping up with the lithe and lethal Dark Elves on which they preyed. They had Gorgonopsian heads and a neural spinal sail on the back. Females had smaller tusks and were somewhat slighter, but otherwise indistinct from the males.

Society

Like most Chaos Societies, Vaurog life was brutal. Due to the clime, weakness was not tolerated, and so the small or misshapen were taken into the deepest caverns to be consumed by Dread Maws, viewed as the manifestation of Vaurog or Slaanesh's endless craving for souls. A Vaurs first rivals were its siblings and it wasn't uncommon for these struggles to survive to end in fatalities. Vaurs who made it to maturity were to undertake the Rite of Offering, where they would strike out into the worlds in bands of six and return with a live catch for the Prince of Pleasure and Serpent Mother both. Sentient creatures were prized, with Elves being the most prized of all.

From there, a Vaur would serve as a warrior of the tribe and as a warrior, its primary jobs were to kill, protect, and multiply. The doing would please both their primary gods. A tribe would be run by a pair of Vaurogis who would be mated, with one often under the worship of Vaurog while the other claimed allegiance to Slaanesh, though some tribes could be ruled by two Slaaneshi and others by two Vaurogi. Vaur were polygynandrous, and this included the tribe leaders, who often sired and mothered children outside of the pair (though customarily the eldest of their children typically belonged to each other, giving them a marked advantage over younger siblings when it came to standing in the tribe. There was usually a strongest of this pair and they were called the Cavernlord or Cavelord.

Vaurs spoke a Variant of Dark Tongue called Spine Tongue (Vaurissh).

Military

Vauri - Young, unproven Vaurogi who have yet to embark on the Rite of Offering. Though untested, Vauri burn with the ferocity of youth and their un-honed battle fervor should not be underestimated.

Vaurog Warrior - Proven and tested, Vaurogs are considered adults with full rights within their respective tribes. Hard of scale and of heart, they are ferocious and unyielding in battle and highlight the inexperience of the Vauri by comparison.

Hard Scale - Hardscales are either born with or acquire through battle a particularly thick hide of scales that allows them to shrug off most wounds and outlast their kin. They are considered blessed by Vaurog, either at birth or for the privilege of a long life.

The Decorated - Hardscales that boast many battles and pillages worth of jewelry and accoutrement, as well as no few amount of scars. They are often the Cavernlord's lieutenants, but often enough, also eye their place in the pecking order.

Rime Scale ( Ice / Slaanesh / Vaurog ) - Pale Scaled Vaur are born with sway over magic, and are considered blessed by one or both of the Vaurogi's gods. Some remain white, their sail scales threaded through with blue, and are able to use the Lore of Ice. Some's sails shot through with red and gold, and go on to wield the Lore of Vaurog. Finally, some have sails colored purple or lavender or lilac and can wield the Lore of Slaanesh.

Dreadwyrm - The smaller 'cousins' to the much fiercer, much larger Dreadmaws, Dreadwyrms are hard to control and if they are hungry, this is all but impossible to achieve with might alone. When battle is anticipated, they are often starved days prior and then released onto the foe. Deadlier than other warbeasts, they burrow into the ground and then attack, allowing them to avoid enemy projectiles.

Mawcaller - Mawcaller are those view Vaurogs who brave the depths of Blackspine and wrestle juvenile Dread Maws into subservience. They then mount these terrible beasts and ride them into battle, but a Dread Maw juvenile can be lethal just like an adult and what is tame today can turn tomorrow.

Mawmaster - Mawmasters are Mawcallers who are old hands at the art of taming Dread Maws. They have outwitted and outmuscled their charges well into adulthood and now ride these terrifying creatures into battle. Mawmasters often share the title of Cavelord.

Tunneller - While Dreadmaws can be taught to enlarge a cavern system, they are fickle beasts and more than one tribe has known doom at one of these creatures deciding to turn on its handler mid-construction. Thus, Tunnellers are given this duty when available. Mutated before or at birth to be large, teams of these creatures can break bones and armor as easily as they can the face of mountain.

Cavernlord - The undisputed masters of a given tribe, Cavernlords dominate the burrows and can be told apart from their lessers by their large, colorful backsail and copious ornamentation. They rule through strength, or magical might, or both.

Lordsmate - The 'official' mate of the Cavernlord, and often the second strongest. Lordsmates have tremendous sway in burrow matters and will rule in lieu of the Cavernlord if they are absent for any reason.

Slaa'kaknoth - 'The Blessed of Slaanesh' Vaurogi who affect a notably serpentine aspect and are some shade of pale purple. Often, they are both male and female, as well. These Vaur are exceptionally smooth of scale and highly intelligent. While they share similar powers, no Slaa Rimescale has the magical might of a Slaa'kaknoth. At maturity, Slaa'kaknoth's make a journey into the Chaos Wastes and must return with the Khornate warrior as an Offering to Slaanesh.

Vaurog'knoth - 'The Blessed of Vaurog' Any Vaurogi born with two heads is considered blessed by the Serpent Mother herself. Powerful and strong, the Vaurog's aethyric might is greater than a Rimescale but lesser than a Slaa'kaknoth; one head is dedicated to the mystical while the other is concerned more with physical might , poison, and intimidations. Vaurog'knoths journey to Lustria at maturity and return with a suitable Saurian as their offering to Vaurog for her blessings.

[cloudninetonine]

I'm sorry Cloud, but you've started me on my Koridai and Courage thing again- If their source material wasn't so goofy, I might even be okay in publicly admitted I got the hots for those two. I feel like I'd be happy consuming content exclusively about them for months on end, like it's not even funny it's like an addiction.

(Also 'fuck the other one' is literally so iconic I can't- Put some respect on my boy Courage lmao)

((Also also, I found Sprite's old design I made and goddamn I forgot how much I love her. Literally such a little skrunkles. All I can imagine is Gilda and Sprite getting in a fight - Sprite is losing but by a hair's margin. Neither Hyrule nor Courage are doing anything bc they definitely had a bet going about who could win. Courage is getting salty he's ab to lose 10 rupees and Hyrule's being a little shit ab it))

PLEASE THE WAY I LITERALLY SCREAMED THE FIRST TIME I READ THAT ASK, HAD ME CACKLING

Also, listen, I absolutely love the concept of Courgae and Koridai, if I were to find out rhey were gonna continue the series or create another CDI game people would be in horror to find out the excitement I would hold- I LOVE EVERYTHING ZELDA AT THIS POINT EVEN THAT SHITTY ARSE THIRS CDI WITH ZELDA (I think its because I expand on them as real characters and thus I grow attached JNDNQMZMSM)

I love Sprite but Gilda's dog walking her I'm sorry.

[whatsabriard]

Another flufftober prompt. 5 double drabbles about freeway.

~ animal shelter ~

It all began with a box. 

Damp and dented, left on the shoulder of the southbound 101. They were on their way to a double header at Dodger Stadium and in a brief but grueling bottleneck, Jennifer spotted the abandoned cardboard that kept swaying.

“Hey!” Max’s gravelly shout followed as she bent down and retrieved the contents, returning to the backseat of the silver Bentley with something cradled in her arms. “Jeez, Mrs H!”

Jonathan hadn’t even had much of a chance to move, too startled by her quick flight and equally quick return. He might have been stunned into silence, but the angry drivers in front of them weren’t as they laid on their horns. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Max wagged his cigar out the window, a gesture of appeasement, and rolled the car forward. The jam, it seemed, had cleared.

“Darling?” Jonathan tapped at his wife’s shoulder, which was hunched over the bundle in her arms. She was cooing sweetly to what looked like a damp wad of dirty hair.

When she finally looked up at him, her amber eyes were dazzling. The lump of hair moved and turned wide, dark eyes on Jonathan.

“Oh, darling, it’s a puppy!”

~*~

“Homer.” 

“Like the philosopher?” Jennifer held the puppy up, still damp from the marginally successful bath they’d given him in the sink. “Seems a bit much for such a little guy.”

“No. Like in baseball…a homer. Home run.” 

“Oh, that’s clever.” Jennifer considered. “Dodger?”

“What about Buckner? Oh! Or Asta!”

“Whatever you do, don’t name him Max.” A gravelly voice piped up behind them. 

“Spot?” Jennifer’s wrinkled nose and quick headshake was echoed by Max’s harumph behind them.

Jonathan carefully took the puppy, still watching them with a docile gaze, from Jennifer and curled the little body against his chest. A wet nose pressed into Jonathan’s throat and he felt his eyes sting just a bit. 

“Who would do such a thing?” Jennifer reached out to pat the little head, which was snuggled against Jonathan’s polo. “Just abandon such a small baby on the freeway.”

The tiny little tail, which had been hanging limply, began to sway tentatively.

“Oh! Freeway?” Jonathan hefted the small body up so they could look eye to eye.

“Freeway? Is that your name baby? Freeway?”  The wag grew in intensity and Freeway’s tiny pink tongue appeared to lap enthusiastically at Jonathan’s cheek.

“Welcome home, Freeway.”

~*~

“But Darling, these are my favorite socks.” Jonathan sat on the bed, the aforementioned dress sock held in his hands. A newly developed hole had appeared right over the big toe, something that had not been there when he’d taken it off the night before. 

Jennifer appeared back in the room, wrapping her hair in a towel, the offending criminal hot on her heels. 

“Freeway…” Jonathan warned and Jennifer balked. 

“He’s just a baby, darling. Don’t be angry with him.”

“I loved these socks.” He shook the sock in Freeway’s direction, and the little scamp bounced and caught it in his razor sharp teeth. “Should have named him Jaws.”

“Next time you’ll need to remember that when you leave your clothes on the floor.”

He caught her as she moved past, his nimble fingers snagging at the terry cloth wrapped around her and dropping it.

“And who’s fault is that?” He asked, pulling her laughing, naked form into his lap. He didn’t wait for an answer, instead allowing his lips to chase their favorite trail from her cheek, to her clavicle and beyond. 

Neither noticed Freeway pushing his way through the slightly ajar down, two socks trailing from his mouth. 

~*~

They bartered with the tiny, talented burglar, exchanging toys for shoes, ties and other items that were stolen and held for ransom around the house.

About once a week, Max would find a cache of stolen goods that Freeway had secreted away to what became a series of hideout locations. 

A Gucci loafer. An Italian silk tie. The racing form. And, an embarrassing number of times, a random pair of underwear. Jonathan and Max had snickered like children at the lacy pair under the couch… until Jennifer reminded them both that it hadn’t actually been Freeway (for once), giving her husband an arch look.  

Nonetheless, the thief was unrepentant and would strike again at his earliest convenience. After the sock incident, he never destroyed anything, just hoarded it all like treasures. 

To the one, Jonathan, Jennifer and Max tried to discipline him. But he would look up at them through the furrow of his eyebrows, his meltingly warm eyes, blink lovingly and bring them a ratty old toy as a peace offering. The the one, they all gave in like marshmallows.

It was his gift, the little grifter, and at the end of the day they loved him for it.

~*~

They hadn’t gone looking for a dog, but Freeway found them anyhow. 

It seemed to happen that way for them. 

The way a grumpy, gravelly man found a scruffy, diamond-in-the-rough boy and helped him grow into a man. The way that same successful man stumbled head over heels for a driven, feisty reporter who’d fallen just as hard, just as fast.

Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was kismet.

They sat in the living room, the fire crackling merrily, the little dog tucked between them. Max puttered behind them, fussing and cleaning before agreeing to sit, too, and taking a sip of the toddies he’d made up for all of them.

Jennifer’s head was nestled against Jonathan’s shoulder and their hands brushed occasionally as they patted the puppy between them, content to have the ones they loved nearby.

“We really are lucky,” Jennifer spoke into the quiet of the evening, her voice languid. ‘To have found each other. You know that?”

“Yeah, Mrs H. We really are.”

“Yes, darling.”

And a happy little wuff from the warm bundle between them.

It was unanimous. 

Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was kismet.

But for Freeway, it all began with a box.

~fin~