#Neither one is too keen on physical contact all that often

[pathogenic]

😚😳🤩 for you and Laios ;)

😚 What kind of kisses does your f/o enjoy giving you the most?

Laios and I are both mildly touch adverse, so kisses and things like that are pretty rare, but when they do happen, due to his height, he likes to kiss on my forehead the most! It's easier on the both of us!

😳 Do you either of you fluster the other often? Is it unintentional, or purposeful? If purposeful, what are surefire ways to fluster the other?

It really isn't that hard to do at first. I read the both of us as rather inexperienced when it comes to any sort of romantic relationships, so we can bumble into each other rather easily. It takes time before we ease into any sort of rhythm there.

Genuine compliments get to me bad, so Laios isn't always doing it on purpose, but sometimes. Sometimes. He has moods as well.

As for me, if we actually want to be physically affectionate, we could be doing our own thing and I'll just lean against him and stay there. I'll derail his thoughts immediately and it'll take him a moment to get back.

🤩 Any little quirks/ habits you notice about your f/o that you think are really cute/ charming?

I answered this in the previous ask, but oh noooo... I get to talk about Laios more...

He's really cute when he's excited. He talks faster and while Chilchuck and Marcille have sometimes called it creepy, especially when it is about monsters in a way they don't necessarily enjoy, I think it's cute. Probably because I also get overexcited with things like these and have repeatedly been told to calm down and slow down growing up. Like - it's nice to see! Go ham my boy!!!

[robbinghisdick]

Slade had rarely ever stayed the night, even before they had a kid. Dick and Slade would get tangled up for a few hours at most and go their separate ways, shame settling heavy in Dick's chest. "It's just sex" never seemed make him feel any better.

Ever since Elani had been born, they saw each other even less. Dick wasn't keen on giving her a sibling, so he often rejected any advances Slade made when he supposedly stopped by to see his daughter.

But last night he had been so tired and drained. They put Elani to bed and Slade's approach was softer than usual. Dick had mostly stopped seeing anyone, sexual or romantic, in fear of how Slade might react. He was weak for some physical contact and attention.

Slade had decided to stay that night, and Dick didn't have it in him to chase the man off.

It was nice to wake up in someone's arms. Slade was warm and stirred not too long after Dick woke up. Neither of them spoke. Faintly he could hear Slade sigh, arms slightly squeezing around Dick and pressing kisses against his shoulder and the back of his neck. Affection like this from Slade was rare, and even rarer that Dick didn't shrug him off.

They laid like that for a long while before Dick could hear the footsteps of a toddler who hadn't quite yet figured out how to walk quietly.

Elani managed to enter the room without slamming the door against the wall, quick to start dragging herself up from the foot of the bed.

She froze when she saw Slade, frowning at him.

She's never seen her parents share a bed.

"Good morning, Dove."

Elani smiled at Dick, quickly toddling across the bed and flopping down on top of the two, earning a small oof! from Slade as she forced her way in between them. She kicked until the man let go of Dick and made room for her.

Rolling over, Dick smiled as Elani quickly settled down between them. One thing he loved is that while she'd always wake him up coming into bed with him, she'd lay down quietly until Dick was ready to get up.

Curiosity over Slade seemed to override her usual quiet morning behavior.

"Why are you here?" she asks with all the bluntness of three year old.

Slade snorts, reaching over and pinching her cheek. "Because I wanna be, brat."

She giggles and reaches over to pinch him back, giggles rising to a shriek as he yanks closer.

"No! Your beard!" She pushes his face away, still laughing as he rubs his face against hers.

They settle a moment later, Slade loosening his grip on her and Elani staying snuggled against his chest.

Dick felt like he was suffocating.

Is this what other people got to wake up to? Was Slade ever like this with Grant and Joey when they were little?

Oftentimes it felt like Slade only ever interacted with Elani to make sure she liked him. He'd bring her toys and treats, idly listen as she babbled, but his attention would always turn towards Dick.

There's an expression Slade's face he's never seen before as the man sighs and kisses the top of Elani's head.

Such a sweet moment of a life Dick would never actually have, nor one he could ever give Elani.

[Prev]

[astarab1aze]

"You vampires aren't all that bad," Griffon, quite comfortable roosting close to he of silver hair and sharp little fangs, noted agreeably. "I met this guy once, a real eccentric—and I guess you gotta be if you're flush with cash—and a charmer, if you're the type—he had V over there glowing a few times"—and here he snickered subtly, clearly wishing to avoid the wrath of his master—"but we got along all right. Never tried to make a meal of me. One of the few people in this crummy world who didn't insult or harass me, either. And you're gettin' to be pretty chummy with V, too, ain'tcha? For once he ain't buddyin' up with some insufferable dirtbag! But, anyway, you seem like a nice enough guy. I'm kinda surprised, considering that grade A moron you hang around with who mouths off like he's trying to get arrested—" Griffon went on and on for a while, but he noticed Vayn was something of a chatterbox, too. That had to have been a good sign, right? That they tolerated one another? Something about vampires, he supposed.

And he most certainly was a chatterbox--

"Oh, do you mean Loux? That dirty little shapeshifter- I think he has something in common with V's beau, Garrett. Neither of them much care for the law, as I understand it - what's that cliche? Ah, yes, bad boys! Quite, Loux often attempts to provoke the sorciers and other nasty sorts that are after him, though he does so 'for fun', as he claims it. After everything that's happened in that man's life, I'm rather shocked he can continue to bear that awful crooked grin of his and trudge on; You'd think he'd have learned a vital lesson or two, but alas... He's part of the reason we move around as often as we do. Can't risk Deadeye or the sorciers actually catching up to us. Mischievous as he is, he's always thinking of me and Sortia, therefore always finding ways to weasel us out of trouble - and, perhaps, thinking twice before getting us into any.

"I must digress, however-- It gladdens me that you and V have had some positive experiences with my kind, though now I'm curious to know who it is you came across. There are many I once knew, plenty more who still hold public office or are otherwise famous for one reason or another... We are vain creatures, of course. You say this vampire was a charming sort? The type to make V blush? I wonder..." He thought for a time; It was but brief, ideas popping in his head, images of a few possibilities crossing his mind. "And this was a man, you say? Hmm... Was he tall? Did he have hair dark as roasted chestnuts fading into spun gold with a few braids dangling on the left side? Bright yellow eyes? Covered from the neck down in black leather? Did he run an art gallery? If any of that's correct, I know such a man! He was once a good friend of mine - awful, his fear of physical contact, though I shouldn't say it's a fear so much as it is a discomfort. He had a keen eye for the arts, built an empire for himself on that alone, becoming completely independent from his family. He gave us younger vampires a lot of hope for positive change; Alas, not all of us got to see our hopes fully realized, but such is the way of things. I wonder what he's doing now... It's been at least thirteen years since I've seen him last."

A somber note to leave off on, so he thought to add a little more.

"I have to say, Griffin, dear, I'm not sure what Garrett complains so much about. You've a mouth on you, no different than he, but I don't think he's stopped to hear you out, has he? Always so boorish, happy to throw his weight around like the big, silly man he is, yes? A familiar tale, but if he won't say it, then I shall! You've been a delight, keeping me company like this-" he interrupted himself if only to gently scratch Griffin's chin, dragging his fingers through bluish raven feathers, "-no hen-pecking required!" He couldn't help but chuckle to himself, grinning warmly. "V hasn't much time for me this visit, I'm afraid, but it's been lovely getting to speak with you properly. Shall we be friends too, darling?"

[flimsy-roost]

Reminiscing with my partner about high school, and we both have a lot of memories of a specific Spanish teacher we both had (she was the only Spanish teacher) who caused us to both stop taking high school Spanish as soon as we possibly could.

I want to clarify up top that this woman was not a bad teacher per se, we both learned Spanish effectively from her. She also wasn't a bad or mean person per se, I think if she was my aunt or a friend's mom I would like her just fine. Instead, she was extremely hit-or-miss with fostering good student-teacher relationships, and she whiffed hard with a lot of us.

She would often take weeks to grade exams and assignments, which isn't the end of the world, but she wasn't nice about it. Her most common refrain, to a classroom of overworked and overtired college prep students, was "sorry I didn't get to those yet, I was too busy having a life." The concept of giving us less gradable work, which could have made both her and our lives easier, did not seem to occur to her. She seemed almost kind of smug about the power imbalance, if that makes any sense.

My partner got to tap out when the classes were still large, lucky me got to advance to her much smaller Spanish 4 class in my Junior year, where things only got sillier.

Day 1, she tells us that she will not be handing out grades in class anymore. Instead, she wanted us to come to her office hours so we could learn how we did and discuss what we could do better next time. For every. single. assignment. I opted to just go the year never knowing how I was doing. I ended up with a B+.

We're doing an oral presentation on a movie of our choice in Spanish. Great! Fun! We need to show movie clips to support our analysis. In this awkward period during the decline of physical media support but before (legal) widespread online media availability, how are we supposed to get those clips? idk kids you figure it out. I got an uncloseable sex bot popup in the middle of my presentation while showing a grainy clip from Anastasia on a sketchy website.

Right before a mid-semester vacation (either thanksgiving or spring break, I can't remember), she assigned us a partner presentation on a topic I don't even remember. Neither me nor my project partner were keen on oral presentations, and were both too busy with our own shit to practice. We did do all the work and research, but made a half-assed written outline for the presentation itself. Presentations were divided across two days (which likely worked in our favor), with a volunteer order (ie, "who wants to go next?"). We both kept delaying and delaying because neither of us wanted to do it. At the end of the second day, she asked if anyone else needed to present. My partner and I make direct eye contact across the room. Neither of us say anything. We're dismissed, go on our merry vacationing way. My partner tells me we got a B+ for a project we never presented or turned in any evidence of. B+ seems to have been kind of her thing. Ted, you're a real one, excellent teamwork, I'd give us an A+ for cooperation.

Senior year I took two science classes so my parents wouldn't make me take Spanish 5, which I probably would have really loved taking from somebody not her.

[steeleidolon]

Kunsel cannot read minds. He never could, and the world is likely a better place for it. At least, this inability to live behind others' eyes has saved his sanity, even if his preternatural senses are often tasked with observing others. Their reactions, their aversions, what they do versus what they say. You can learn a lot about another person if you just watch and listen. People often have a need to be known, even if they themselves do not intend to reveal so much.

It hardly matters if they're human. Not that he himself can even be considered human. That distinction came and went many years ago.

They are both subject to the scientists' whims. To the needles and the tests, to the markers of endurance, to the emotional and physical rigors designed to wring any thoughts of agency or temerity from them, until they are malleable tools for use, or an otherwise interesting footnote on the path to Progress.

Kunsel sees. He has difficulty not seeing the feline's shift. When Maru looks back, he too can see; Kunsel does not disguise his expression, somewhere between determined and apologetic.

Maru is not alone with missing wide-open spaces. Their lives are lived in cages, some larger than others. Unsustainable. Maddeningly cruel.

"Don't be so sure," he answers, low and clear, even if Maru's statement was rhetorical. He's inclined his chin and set his jaw so that his lips cannot be read on camera, so that the sound and blister of a windy and hot desert day carry his voice only so far. He knows the ins and outs of the simulation, what it can and cannot do, and he uses it to his advantage. Earnest, his eye contact and his expression, keen and focused without a whit of hesitation as he imparts advice he wishes someone could have given him. "They'll try to kill your hope. Don't let them."

Just the same, he affords the hand clasped in his a gentle squeeze, tremendous strength tempered down to something mindful, something personal.

Neither of them may be human, but that is all the more reason to share a little humanity. The simulated sun beats down on them like a fist, relentless as anything, and Kunsel basks in it too.

It cannot bring the missing home. It cannot bring home to the missing. But what it can do, what he hopes it has done, is make a connection. Trust is not guaranteed, it is earned, and while Maru is not a SOLDIER, that does not mean he does not count in the survivor's reckoning.

Stopping, though.

Kunsel glances from Maru to the phone screen, pinching a frown and arching a brow.

"As soon as I stop the sim, the doors will unseal and they can enter."

Do you really want that?

He does not say as much, does not ask; it's in his face as he turns the screen in his palm, offering the choice. Maru can click the button to let the scientists collect him, or he can take just a bit more time.

Agency is important, even in the smallest of ways. If Kunsel can offer nothing else, then at least there is this. A concession from one tool of the machine to another, from one person to another.

It might have gone unnoticed, if Kunsel had picked any old wide open space - grasslands, snowfields or the like. The choice of open desert told Maru that his company was listening to him, taking note of the places he wanted to see. Under other, better circumstances he would have thought it harmless, a well-intentioned attempt to make him comfortable, to perhaps find home, however underneath it all, there was still that undercurrent of wrongness.

Perhaps a normal human wouldn’t have noticed but those sharp ears and that keen sense of smell reminded him at all times of where he was and whose company he was keeping.

Still, regardless of his misgivings, he took Kunsel’s hand to ground himself as their scenery shifted once more and felt his stomach do an odd and uncomfortable lurch. His hand clenched around the SOLDIER’s for a moment and then the sands were stretched out before them, the heat was beating down mercilessly upon them and he felt something settle inside him.

He didn’t have to say anything, the evidence was right there on his face and in his posture that those were the conditions that were like home to him.

There was a primal urge to shuck the uniform, to feel the heat of the sun on his skin and seek shelter from its scorching beat until the worst of the midday rays had passed and a mournful little keen sounded somewhere deep in his throat. He didn’t even realise that he’d not let go of Kunsel’s hand until the man spoke up beside him, startling him out of the trance he’d found himself in.

He didn’t recognise the Gold Saucer and neither did the names or places mentioned ring any bells but the dry heat was right, the sand was right and he felt his heart lift at the potential that maybe, just maybe he would recognise home if he saw it.

He daren’t say anything more though. Seeing home and being unable to reach it would be too much to bear and his ears lowered towards his hair as he looked out over the dunes and the heat haze before them. Ahead of him, an artificially created landscape that felt real enough as to almost deceive even him. Behind him, the cold, stark hallways of Shinra’s headquarters and the Science department probably waiting to shove him back in his cage.

His jaw clenched, his gaze dipped down to the sands beneath them.

“I’m never going to see it again, for real, am I.” A statement more than a question and he wasn’t looking at Kunsel either.

“We should stop.”

[mehbzz]

Milk

Got inspired by @weebsinstash posts again.  A/B/O Chocobros. Same pack dynamics as last time. This fic focuses on Noctis. Female reader, mommykink, lactation, breast feeding, NSFW. Never written these kinks before so excuse any clumsiness!

Hints at possessive/controlling behaviour, not sure how obvious they are so warning just in case. No beta reader so ignore all mistakes!

If you weren’t sandwiched between Ignis and Gladio, you were pinned awkwardly between Noctis and Prompto. Often falling asleep alone to wake in the early hours with one or both snuggled up against you. Which was how you found yourself this evening, Noctis with his head on your chest and Prompto awkwardly curled into your side, head resting against your stomach.

Noct shifts, his cheek nuzzling into your breast in a way that has you tensing slightly. It was comforting having them close but you were uncertain about the amount of physical contact between you and the two younger Alphas. Pack dynamics were still new to you, the relationship deepening between you, Ignis and Gladio even more so. Even with Ignis occasionally trying to teach you and Gladio helpfully reprimanding you, without explanation, for things you apparently shouldn’t be doing, it was still a confusing topic. Most of your questions were met with vague explanations or patronising dismissals of ‘they know what’s best’.

Noct moves again, “I can’t sleep” his voice is tired, nuzzling his face against your breast “soft” he mumbles before darting his tongue out to lick tentatively across your clothed nipple.   “Noct!” your tone is sharp, more out of shock than anger but he doesn’t pull away. Nothing had been mentioned or talked about regarding developing your relationship with Noctis and Prompto. The four were often openly affectionate with each other, and the thought that the affection ran a little deeper than purely platonic had crossed your mind more than once. Was this normal for packs? Are you setting yourself up for another reprimand from Gladio or a disappointed talk from Ignis? Your obvious apprehension does nothing to stop Noct from nuzzling against you again.  “S’ ok;” he mumbles sleepily “they don’t mind”. Don’t they? The fact neither Ignis nor Gladio had stirred from their side of the tent made you think he was telling the truth. Normally your every sound, movement or shift in emotion had them honing in on you with intent focus. Maybe this was normal for packs. It did feel good having Noct so close, the attention and the affection, almost soothing. "Noct!" your gasp is a little louder this time as he takes a broad stroke across your nipple before sealing his mouth around it to suck gently. Your cry has Prompto stirring against your side, blue eyes flickering up at you before they drift down to watch Noct suckling against your now hard nipple. “S’not fair,” Prompto half mumbles, half whines against your stomach, still half asleep. “Wanna taste”

“has two” Noct snarks back, fractured sleepy words smothered against your skin as he keeps suckling your nipple though your shirt. At Prompto’s discontented whine you instinctively card your fingers through his hair with a soft purr, trying to sooth him back into sleep. The hitch in your breath as Noct sucks a little harder, has Prompto shifting minutely closer “I can make you feel good too” even in his half asleep state you can hear his sulky tone and you bite back a smile. His hand slipping under your night shirt to brush lightly over your pussy before resting high on your thigh as he seemingly dozes off again.

Wearing panties to bed had become a pointless endeavour. Gladio more often than not tearing them in some way to make wearing them again impossible. The look of disappointment on Ignis face whenever Gladio ruined a pair had started making you feel guilty so you had stopped wearing them all together in the tent. Saving them more for the times you got to spend in hotels or in private with Ignis. The look of reverence on Ignis’ face when he got to see you in intact lingerie had made the awkwardness of sleeping without any easier to bear. And you certainly got no complaints from Gladio about it. Nudity in general was something that was slowly becoming easier to deal with, how comfortable and open about it the boys were didn’t give you, as with most things recently, much of a choice.

The nip of teeth against your nipple draws you attention immediately back to Noctis. “Jus’ me” his words are slurred and a little confused. He’s just as tired as Prompto, it’s easy to tell but he continues to suckle lazily against your breast. He shuffles closer, hand squeezing just a little tighter, and the first spurt of milk surprises you both, your back arching slightly at the sensation. You can feel Noct’s excited hum rumble from his chest as his hand drops to the hem of your shirt. “Please” It's one word, verging on a command more than a plea but you know what he wants and you acquiesce with a gentle nod. It feels right. You’ve never considered yourself particularly maternal but the sudden urge to nurture him is strong.

Noctis tugs your nightshirt up awkwardly over your breast, just enough to give him access to your bare nipple. He immediately wraps his warm mouth around it, licking and suckling on it gently as he starts to rock lazily against your thigh. He’s hard, and a tingle of arousal pulses between your legs as he grinds against you. It wasn’t the burning almost feral desire you felt with Ignis and Gladio, it was a gentle, cosy heat that made you want to be closer to him, to look after him and help him feel good.

“S’good” He groans a little louder as another spurt of milk coats across his tongue, his hand squeezing around your breast in an attempt to coax more milk from you. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, as your body adjusted to the new raging omega hormones lactation had become an occasional nuisance. One Gladio enjoyed immensely. The first time it had happened had been mildly alarming but Ignis had assured you it would cease as your body became accustomed to the hormonal changes.

  Your fingers still combing through Noct’s hair, you look down to watch him. His throat moving as he swallows, eyes closed in contentment as he continues to suckle. The faint press of his teeth and the glide of his tongue have your hips twitching slowly, more out of instinct than any genuine need to cum. Having Prompto resting on your stomach sleeping against your side made it difficult to really move anyway. The contented purr that escapes you has Noct’s hips immediately stuttering against you. He sighs as he cums, quiet little whimpers as he continues to rut lightly against you. “M’sorry, didn’t mean to.” He sounds embarrassed and the urge to comfort him is great. “It’s ok, it’s ok, you did good.” You let your fingers stroke slowly down the nape of his neck, “Good boy” the words slip from your lips in a quiet whisper before you can stop them and despite your tinge of embarrassment Noctis keens at your praise. “mommy” the word is quiet, almost whispered against your breast as his grip tightens in his attempt to snuggle closer. The aftershocks from his lazy orgasm are sending little shivers down his spine, and you slowly stroke your nails down his back in an attempt to sooth him, cooing praise softly into his ear.   After a few minutes Noctis finally releases your nipple and licks the stray trickle of milk that slides down your breast before nuzzling into the side of your neck with a contented huff. He’s scenting you, the behaviour has become second nature to you now and you tilt your head to the side to give him easier access. The awkwardness you expect isn’t there, and as Noct gently pulls your shirt down and lies back down against your chest all you feel is a calming rush of warmth and love. You’re aware Ignis is awake on the other side of Prompto, you can sense the contentment, and what you think is pride, in his scent and it helps relax you further. Noct’s quiet petulant whine against your chest once again draws your attention back to him. He rubs his head into your hand in a quiet demand for pets that has you biting back a quiet laugh. You do as he bids, letting your nails stroke gently across his scalp and down the back of his neck, both of you enjoying the slow, intimate contact. The silence as you started to drift off is warm and soothing, and although it’s still a little uncomfortable with Noct once again asleep on your chest and Prompto having somehow managed to wrap himself around your leg, head now resting on your thigh, the only sound as you drift into sleep is your quiet contented purr.

[comehomeducklings]

Past [Part 3] (Obsession)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Tom Riddle's Moodboard

Main Character's Moodboard

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

1940 - 3rd year

There’s no chance of getting out of this. Our mentor must be out of their mind. No smooth sailing this period, not for me. Nothing at all has prepared me for this point in time.

My heartbeat rises by the second. At the brink of jumping out of my chest. I constantly try to reassure myself as I prepare. Forcing the illusion that I have everything together.

I most definitely don’t have anything, not a crumb, together.

My hands sweat with anticipation, my wand almost slipping off multiple times. The magical stick even wants to run away from this situation. I’ll start running with it soon enough.

The whole room is quiet in expectation. The tension levels in this area are too high for me to even start to comprehend. All I can hear is the sounds of my breathing and the occasional ruffle of robes. The high regard these people hold for me isn’t doing me any favors. I’m about to ruin any confidence anyone holds in my skills.

My friends are holding their thumbs up for encouragement. It does little to calm my panic, but I appreciate the effort anyway. Other acquaintances from the same house nodded their heads in an attempt to console my emotions.

Before the teacher signals to start, he gives us a bit to come up with a plan. Ten seconds at most. Now, this isn’t something possible to win. Not against him, no. My only goal here is to last as long as I can and don’t mess up.

Act smart, seem like you know more than you do.

He looks as easy-going as ever. This may seem like a walk in the gardens to him. No “threat” whatsoever to make him feel uneasy. I’m quite irritated at the thought of being anything but a challenge. He may be a little right, but that doesn’t help my ego.

Easy, I’m nothing easy.

Riddle might be stronger at this, but that doesn’t mean I'm complete garbage. I can hold my own, I will hold my own.

My breathing patterns change into more of a deep inhale and exhale. Focusing on completely dropping my heart rate and keeping my thoughts intact. Madam Rose, the school nurse, hates seeing me walk in there. Frequent visits from dealing with plants has her hair getting pulled out. I don’t think Miss Rose would be too keen on me passing out from the lack of oxygen.

“Only stick with the one basic spell of force. For both offensive and defensive tactics.”

Riddle’s atmosphere surrounding him is focused, deadly. He hasn’t moved his gaze from my lips. Probably on guard for whenever I cast something. I’m slightly unsteady on my feet from nerves. It’s almost suffocating being under all these watchful eyes.

A snake takes their time to strike. They examine all angles where you may be weak. Testing the vulnerability of your actions and thinking process. A few testing snaps of their mouth can tell them how the fight will go. They are well-balanced and focused, masters of intimidation.

Breathing.

Oxygen informs the snake how much you’re able to hold on for. The more you intake, the tighter it gets. Restricting the amount of oxygen the prey respires. Until they are physically unable to anymore, slowly weakening. The fight they were presenting lessens to almost non-distinguishable. The prey’s struggling to get free, dying down. Then it passes away, openly given to the snake without any more thought. A mere temporary meal in its eyes.

“Begin.”

Our eye contact is steady, neither of us moving an inch. Our mouths are closed shut, wands at the ready. I slightly squint my eyes while I focus. If he’s waiting for me to go first he is out of luck. I’m not budging, we will stay in the same position until next period if we have to.

Riddle also slightly squints his eyes. His hand doesn’t shake even if his wand was out in the air for a long time. The arm he holds out is steady and unmoving. Nothing triggers my attention since his movements are of little importance. I search his eyes for any life, no emotion is found swirling in those charcoal black eyes. Absolutely brilliant and fierce when focused or aggravated. The class starts getting rowdy, finally allowed to talk since Riddle just made the first move.

There’s only one spell I need to remember, that makes it a little easier to think of ways to find my opening. I quickly revert the spell away from me and send it right back. A tennis match is played between that one spell. Tom huffs and sends his enchantment straight towards the ground. It bursts into tiny magical specks of green. During that time I sent a spell his way.

After a while, I start to notice right before he casts a spell he moves his mouth like he inhales to take a breath. I’ve noticed him do it quite often. Since he casts fairly quickly there wasn’t much to go off of. Not much to use to my advantage. When he “inhales” he’s most of the time not actually breathing in air. It’s just a simple movement he does. It might be because of his accent, the way he learned to talk. Quite a small little quirk of the lips.

To start testing out this theory I centered most of my attention on his mouth. Waiting to see if my theory was reliable enough to depend on. He’s starting to gain more offensive attacks on me. Most of my spells undecidedly move more defensive by the minute.

Right before he mutters the words, I send a spell of my own. The magic aiming for his knees. Before he could defend himself from that one I prepared another offensive conjuration to his wand. He forwarded an incantation my way and I hurriedly obviated the sorcery as it was also heading to my stifle joint. Some of the force still slightly makes contact with my left knee. My balance is suddenly thrown off.

As I scramble to catch my footing, Riddle with point accuracy parries my wand attack. Then diverts my knee attack towards my right knee. Since I was focused on stabilizing my posture I didn’t notice the spell approaching my other knee

Forthcoming my inevitable demise.

I end up planting both hands on the ground. My knees falling one after the other from the pressure.

Our audience starts yelling complaints and praise. Calls for a rematch and cheats. My loss was bound to happen, but I did get to do that three combo. Two offensive and one defensive, all in the span of 5 seconds. Not too bad if I say so myself.

“Mr. Riddle wins this duel. Excellent job to the both of you. A very good strategy was well thought out for each side.”

I make my way down the steps on my platform’s side. Immediately being greeted by hugs and pats on the back.

At least my feet didn’t get tied together from restlessness causing me to fall and he wins the duel immediately. I would have dropped out right then and there from embarrassment.

There’s barely any feedback for Riddle, his little posse praising him like a king. People either saw no fault in him or were too frightened to actually comment on it publicly.

For me, that’s another case. Quite a bit of suggestions are offered, keep my form ready and my attention on more than one thing. Any and all advice is welcomed. Who knows how it can help me one day.

Amelia hugs my side with the biggest grin on her face, “You did so well! I think he actually had to work a little for that win.”

Everyone is dismissed and we head our way to Herbology. Tom’s face looks as if he’s already forgotten about the duel. His body language remains tranquil as ever.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

Bubotuber pus, one of the grossest things I’ve had the misfortune of learning at home. Now I have to live through it again? How can one endure harvesting the essence?

“All of you are required to wear gloves for today’s class. Does anyone know what effects you would have when touching this substance with your bare skin?”

Quite a number of students raise their hands. I’m guessing they did research on why they needed to buy these gloves when handed the school procurement catalog.

Exactly what I did, curiosity might actually kill the cat.

“Yes, you sweet girl,” she picks, “What’s your name?”

“Merlene,” the student answers, “If you touch this without protection then extremely painful boils will appear in its stead.”

“Correct! 5 points to Hufflepuff,” she claps.

My fingers already lay inside the dragon-hide gloves. Its rough texture rubs against the calluses from dealing with the harsh stems of different plants.

This substance is usually processed to be used for acne treatments. Only touched in its weakened state. Oddly satisfying to some, I am not a part of that group of people

“This is disgusting,” I say as I harvest the pus. My gagging reflexes acting up every time the plant gets squeezed.

A few students chuckle at my remark. They seem to be having a good time, weirdly focused on this substance. It smells of petrol, not a big fan of the scent. Reminds me of the sketchy gas stations my parents and I would take on family road trips.

Its thick goo is finally contained in bottles. Relief washes over me from finishing the collecting process. My gloves are removed and I do a quick spell to clean my area. Nothing really fell on it so it didn’t need scrubbing beforehand.

Amelia seems to just be finishing her plant. A lot of goo splashed all over her table. Luckily it doesn’t seem like any of that touched anyone’s face or uncovered arms.

“I’m just about done, can you help with cleaning please?” Amelia starts collecting all of her bottles into her arms. None of the glass vials touched in green gunk.

“Yeah, I got you, turn those in to the professor.” I immediately started helping her out. In that process, I also cleaned other’s messes too. Why not, there is still time to waste until we can all leave. Cleaning products smell better than whatever chemicals intoxicate the air.

“Pop quiz, shout out the answers. Why not use spells instead of treated bubotuber pus for treatments?”

Easy question, I whisper the answer in Amelia’s ear when she comes back from turning in the assignment so she can shout it.

“Using spells proves to be too risky, like the Eloise Midgen incident,” she answers.

Good, she remembers Eloise's event.

“Yeah, she cursed her nose off, poofed from existence,” a girl from Hufflepuff adds.

“Precisely, everyone has permission to leave now,” the professor exclaims, “don’t head out without cleaning or I’ll reduct points. Last time a student got boils all over their hand from an improperly cleaned station.”

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

“It actually went decently. Nothing blew up, surprisingly.”

At lunch, we are all talking about our first three classes. Potions being our first topic.

“Thought as much, I saw your stupid grin. You looked like you just won the wizarding lottery,” I say with my mouth stuffed with food. Hoping they could understand me between my chews.

“Both of you, slow down. The food ain’t going anywhere damn,” Devyn laughs.

Amelia and I pause, we look at each other, then at Devyn, then back to us. After a silent halt in our actions, we continue to shove down a bunch of food.

“I noticed you kept gagging at the pus. You looked queasy, your face was so pale.”

I audibly shiver at the recollection of said class. My eyes were watering so bad there. That stuff would never stop coming.

“I’m eating, stop mentioning that nasty stuff,” Amelia starts shaking her head. If only I could see the thoughts forcefully being shaken out of her head.

“You should have seen her station. That stuff was everywhere. How bad is your aim, the opening to the bottle wasn’t that small?”

“It wasn’t even that!” she drops her fork, “I squeezed that bloody plant too hard and it squirted everywhere!”

“Poor choice of words,” Devyn snickers. All she gets is a shove from me.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, she’s clearly traumatized.”

Devyn shoves me back, “You’re clearly traumatized from the duel. The one you failed at, the one-”

“I’m aware of the duel you’re talking about,” I interrupt, “I bet you wouldn’t have lasted as long as I did.”

“Oh please, you’re just salty about losing.”

I roll my eyes and subconsciously scan the room for him. There he is, mysteriously talking to his group of buddies. After a little bit, he catches onto my staring. He briefly looked around him to see if I was looking at something else. Finally, he comes to the realization it was in fact him I was blessing with my attention.

During this, he was talking to his friend next to him. He stopped his conversation to completely give me his attention. The guy he was just talking to engaged in another conversation quickly.

The moment was interrupted with hands waving in front of my face, “You gonna eat that?”

“Nah I’m full, go ahead.”

Riddle continued on with his food. Never looking my way again.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

“Hey, uh, Riddle you have a second?”

I stop him by tapping his shoulder a couple of times. His height already makes mountains seem molecular.

He furrowed his eyebrows and glances at the shoulder I just touched. Making it a scene to dust that part off, what an ass.

“No, I really don’t have a second,” he responds.

“Well that, really, sucks for you huh. Can you teach me techniques for dueling?”

“No,” he starts to turn away.

“Please, you will get one favor from me. Whatever you need.”

Tom turns back around, “Anything? Does that favor expire?”

I shake my head no. If he plans to wait a long time he’ll probably forget about it. He seems to be deep in thought for a bit. No rush really since we're on our break. If he agrees I could get ahead of so many competitors.

“Fine, every Friday afternoon starting tomorrow in the Room of Requirement.”

He immediately strides away while I stare back in shock. My brain didn’t expect him to actually accept. Getting this far wasn’t a very possible outcome.

Now I just have to find out where the Room of Requirement is located.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

Taglist:

@empath-bunny

@jinxqsu

[snakeboistan]

Just Out Of Reach

My exams are finally over so have some touch-starved!Nagisa 

Pairing: Nagisa x 3-E

AO3 LINK

Shiota Nagisa was a loner. He always had been for as long as he could remember.

When he was in elementary school, he was the weird kid - the strange girl-boy that hardly talked and no one could understand. His male classmates thought that he was too girly to take part in their games or join their conversations and whilst his female classmates didn’t mind his appearance that much, they knew better than to associate with him lest they too fall victim to the taunts and sneers that followed him everywhere, or the relentless bullying that inconvenienced him every breaktime. However, he didn’t mind - friends were a luxury he couldn’t afford anyway (his mother didn’t approve of him spending time out of the apartment, away from her). He would have his own fun by sitting himself down in his school’s library and bury his head in a book, getting lost in worlds that weren’t mean, or cold, or judgemental. Or he’d sit on a bench in the school playground, homemade lunch in hand, and observe his peers hug and high five and laugh together, whilst ignoring the strange pang of something that would curl in his stomach, wanting more than ever for something he could never have.

 Even during his first year of Junior High, when he met the red haired genius of a delinquent called Karma, he didn’t let himself indulge in what normal friends would do. Sure, he felt comfortable around the first friend he’d ever had (though the unnatural comfort was often overshadowed by the awe and admiration that he was allowed in the company of someone as brilliant as Akabane Karma) but Karma had his own walls, his own issues and lack of trust, so there was always that unspoken distance between them, that slight tenseness that lingered between every (very) rare arm that was slung over his shoulder. Though they walked side by side, it was never hand in hand. Though they spent every free minute together there were never any fist bumps or high fives or hugs (Nagisa wondered if Karma even knew what hugs were). Karma kept to himself and so did he - they both had boundaries that the other respected.

 Until, Karma left. And he was alone again. 

 And as much as he said that he didn’t mind it - as much as he told himself that he was used to it ever since he woke up that one day and his father was nowhere to be found, the shouts and screams of his parents having their nth argument ringing in his ears even though his house was pitch quiet for once - it hurt. So when he was sent to E-Class with his head hung low and the voices of his former classes whispering their disgust trailing after him, he looked at the grenade in his hand and knew that he had nothing left to lose.

  (So why did Koro-Sensei save him? And why did it feel so good? )

  (And why did that mucus-like membrane shrouding him make his chest heat up with a feeling he’s never felt before?)

  It was during their lunch break when it happened.

 Nagisa was sitting by cross-legged at the base of a tree, reading an article about an upcoming superhero flick, whilst a group of his classmates were throwing, hitting and bouncing a ball in a game that Yada had called ‘don’t let the ball touch the ground’ but Kimura dubbed ‘the floor is lava for the ball and not us’ (he’ll let the jury decide which title was better) when he heard some rustling above him followed by groans.

 “Okajima,” Maehara whined, “you hit it too high.”

 “I’m sorry okay,” Okajima said, “I didn’t mean to get it stuck in some branch.”

 “Don’t worry,” Yada smiled at him, “I’m sure that we can get it down if we stand on each others shoulders or something.”

 “I don’t know,” Kataoka frowned. She looked up, making sure to cover her eyes from the sun, at the cursed branch, “it’s pretty high up. It’s safer for us to go and get a ladder.”

 “No need,” Nagisa said. Unbeknownst to them, the moment Nagisa had gotten whiff of what had happened, he jumped up and, as silent as a serpent, leaped nimbly from branch to branch until he reached the one with the ball. He carefully plucked it from where it was nestled in a groove before making his way back down again, all just before Kataoka spoke. He threw it into her hands.

 “What the- how the hell did you even do that?” Maehara’s jaw was dropped, frantically looking between the ball and the branch it was (he swore) a second ago.

 “How did no one even see him?” Okajima whispered.

 “Thank you, Nagisa,” Kurahashi beamed with the intensity of a thousand suns and threw her arms around him in one of her famous bear hugs, laughing in that usual bubbly way she always does. Nagisa freezes mid-flinch, almost petrified at the sudden contact. An unfamiliar warmth starts to spread across his chest. It was nice and almost comforting, drowning him with bright yellows and gentle goldens - making him feel like he was special. It took everything in him to not melt into it, a keening noise stuck at the base of his throat.

 When his mother touches him, he feels the sharp talons of her nails digging into his skin. When she pecks his cheek or forehead, he has to stop himself from wincing at the way cyanide seems to burn him where her lips leave. In all honesty, he’d rather the sharp slaps and objects flying at him, at least those forms of pain where only physical and didn’t leave a confusing sense of dichotomy where his emotions that craved for the positive contact to linger battled where his fight-or-flight survival instincts screamed at him to scrub every single atom of her off of him. Touch was something he could neither afford nor understand. 

 If he wanted warmth, he’d wrap himself up in scarves and throw on soft jumpers; if he wanted to feel safe, he’d make sure to do everything he can to not trigger his mother into another eruption; if he wanted contact then he’d find his old plushies buried deep in the confines of his closet and embrace them in hopes that it would be enough. For him, the closest he’s ever gotten to feeling that void in his chest was when words of affirmation would wash over him (it’s no secret to anyone that compliments can render him unable to function)(but can you blame him when compliments to him are as rare as painite?).

 When Kurahashi let go of him to go regale Yada with stories from a nature documentary she watched the night prior, he’s still stock still, dumbstruck, from that momentary embrace. He wanted her to come back so that he could feel it again. He wanted to feel her arms around his body like a safe little cocoon. He wanted to submit to that sunshine-like comfort and never get out of it. He craved that warmth so much it hurt him - why did it hurt so much?

 It made him feel so wanted . And lov-

 Is this why people hold hands all the time? 

 Later that night, he crushed one of his stuffed animals against his chest as he wrapped his arms around his body. He wondered why his pillowcase had wet stains on it when he woke up the next day.

 (He ignored the answer that gnawed him at the back of his mind)

  The second time he felt it was during a ‘completely necessary class bonding sleepover extravaganza’ (as Fuwa had put it) at the Nakamura household. With the blonde’s parents out of the country to visit her older brother, she had her entire house to herself - a house that was miraculously large enough to house twenty-seven teenage assassins in training (as well the phones that contained ‘Mobile Ritsu’).

“I still don’t understand why we can’t watch anime,” Fuwa pouted from her position on the kitchen island, her One-Piece-themed-socks-clad feet kicking up and down as she took another spoonful from the bowl of snickerdoodle cookie dough she had nicked from Hara and swallowed it, “it’s practically a staple for every good sleepover.”

 “Because, Fuwa,” Nakamura drawled in reply, her own hands busy pouring popcorn into bowls, “none of us want to see you go full otaku during our relaxing evening.”

 “It’s nothing against you Fuwa,” Nagisa had cut in quickly, having had made eye-contact with Isogai and Hara as the three of them were washing and drying the baking equipment they were using (“‘You know we have a dishwasher right?” Nakamura had called in amusement) and their combined parental instincts had deemed it necessary to extinguish anything that could potentially start something (and knowing this class, mountains can be made out of molehills as quickly as Koro-Sensei can fly from continent to continent), “it’s just that we think it might be a good idea to have more variety tonight. Next time we have a class movie night, you can choose anything you want.”

 “I’m holding you to that, Shiota,” Fuwa pointed her spoon at him with narrowed eyes before sliding herself off the table and sauntering off towards the living room.

 “She’s not going to get sick, eating all of that raw cookie dough, is she?” Nakamura asked, staring at the doorway.

 Hara smiled at her, “don’t worry, we made the dough edible.” She gave Nagisa a head pat with a slightly soapy hand, “you can finish with that bowl you’re drying and help me bring these trays to the living room, ‘kay Nagisa?”

 Nagisa nodded bashfully, trying to hide the redness that blossomed over his cheeks in reaction to Hara’s hand making contact with his scalp.

  "What do you mean 'we should watch a horror movie'?" Isogai asked his friend.

 "Exactly that class prez," Maehara grinned at the brunette, "you can't have a sleepover without a few screams."

 "Nor can you have one without anime but here we are," Fuwa grumbled to herself.

 "But what if people get scared?" Isogai asked, as always being the Ikeman he is and thinking about others. Bless him.

 "That's the point," Nakamura chirped, "it's the perfect bonding exercise. Nothing can bring together a group of rag-tag misfits like fear."

 "But-"

 "Don't worry," Nakamura said, "we have Karma and Hazama with us. I can assure that whatever we see on the television will be nowhere nearly as scary as them."

 "True that," the class sighed as the two students in question gave eerie, self-satisfied smirks.

 "Not to mention that we're all assassins in training," Okano said, "no evil spirit or crazy murderer would stand a chance against us."

 "And if they do, we can just sacrifice Terasaka to them," Hazama piped up, not even looking up from her book.

 "HEY! WHAT THE HELL?!"

 "Yeah, Hazama," Karma smirked, "as if they would even want him."

 "OI AKABANE, WHAT'S YOUR DEAL?!"

 "Hey, Nagisa," Kayano turned to her friend as Karma stuck his tongue out at Terasaka, "what kind of horror movies do you like?"

 “I don’t know,” Nagisa replied, idly tracing the outlines of the cartoon sushi pieces that patterned his pyjama bottoms, “I’ve never watched any horror movies so I wouldn’t know what is good.”

 Maehara grinned at them from under the hood of his Pikachu onesie, “Then have no fear, Nagisa. As a movie connoisseur-”

 “I thought that title was reserved for me?” Mimura raised his hand with an arched eyebrow.

 “-I would be more than happy to educate you, my young padawan-”

 “-I’m pretty sure he’s older than you,” Okano pointed out.

 “On the art of Horror Movie Binge-athons,” Maehara declared, ignoring the interruptions and pointing at the blunette in a very Fuwa-esque way.

 So that was how Nagisa found himself on one of the couches, two scream-fests later, sandwiched between Karma and Sugino, watching the end credits of The Ring. From his perch, he watched in interest at the horror-struck faces of his classmates below.

 “Dude,” Kimura breathed out in fear when the screen turned black, a shaky hand attempting to comfort a very visibly distressed Okajima, who had the athlete in a bone-crushing hug from behind as he hid behind him, “I am never going to answer a phone again.”

 After a full ten seconds of silence, the smartphone that was lying in front of him lit up, and the Sonic theme song ‘Gotta Go Fast’ cut through the air like a knife. Kimura jumped about a foot in the air, screaming, whilst the others around him did the same. Muramatsu and Yoshida, clung tighter onto Hazama, yelling about how they were too young to die whilst Okajima and Okano began praying to the gods.

 “Karma, stop it,” Nagisa sighed without even looking at the redhead next to him. When Karma smirked and ended the call on his phone, thus terminating the ringing, he turned and raised an unamused eyebrow at a snickering Nakamura who was filming the entire scene on her own phone. The blonde winked at him and raised a peace sign.

 “I know what we should watch next,” Yoshida said after a while and took the remote. He began to scroll through the movie suggestions on the screen, “Coraline.”

 “Isn’t ‘Coraline’ a kids’ movie?” Kataoka furrowed her eyebrows as she eyed the cartoonish movie poster on the television.

 Coraline was not a kids’ movie. It was a horrific abomination of nightmare fuel dolled up with pretty colours and a talking cat. At least with the other films they had watched that night, he was able to stand - jump scares don’t really work on someone that’s constantly on edge and no CGI generated creature of the supernatural could terrify him as the very real harpy that he shares a roof with. At most he stiffens up or just trains his eyes onto the kernels of popcorn that get sent flying whenever Okajima gets particularly frightened. He usually just tries to deconstruct the story from a logical standpoint, making sure to point out to himself the plot-holes to enhance the fact that it’s nothing more than fiction (instead of making these comments out loud like Sugaya and end up having a brigade of throw pillows assaulted onto him). However watching The Other Mother, who spoke with a honey-sweet tone but had that distinct aura of ‘threat threat threat’ made him feel more chills than watching the disfigured Samara Morgan crawl out of a television and murder people and whilst the revelation of her true colours weren’t completely unpredictable, it didn’t and the fear and acid crawling up his stomach.

  ‘You may come out... when you've learned to be a loving daughter!’

  ‘How dare you disobey your mother!’

 It was after watching that vile woman drag Coraline into that dark chamber and locking her inside it when he couldn’t take it. His frozen facade and almost petrified posture just broke. He lurched, fumbling for the blanket draped over his legs and pulled it up so that he could cover his head and buried himself under it. With his knees drawn up under the covers, he focused on controlling his breathing and trying to steady his shaking hands and starting-to-blur eyes in an attempt to push away the unpleasant flashbacks hissing around in his head like a viper. Suddenly out of nowhere, he felt a hand gently circle his wrist. He tensed, heart rate speeding up in a panic, before his skin registered the familiar feel of polyester - the material of Sugino’s red sweatbands (wait, does he even wear them to sleep? ). When he had physically relaxed, the- Sugino’s hand slowly and carefully - giving him ample time to pull away - moved his own and away from his legs and then interlocked his fingers between his. The skin on skin contact at the base of his fingers had caused the same warmth he had felt with Kurahashi spreading across his entire arm, stopping at his chest and swirling around like a mixture of comfort and elation, like he had just drank a cup of steaming milk tea. He steadily curled his own fingers downwards, letting the tips press down against the baseball-lover’s knuckles. The only response he got was a tight squeeze in return - not hard enough to sting but still grounding in a sense.

 Okay.

 He was okay, he can do this.

 It was during the climax of the film, when Coraline confronts that button-for-eyes-wearing she-devil, when Nagisa abandoned all inhibitions and pulled on the hand intertwined with his own, simultaneously pulling Sugino down and bringing himself up so that he could wrap his arms around the black-haired boy. His uncharacteristic actions even shocked himself but all of his usual anxiety’s of forcing his problems on others were pushed back by the voice in his head saying ‘safe safe safe get closer closer ’. With his eyes squeezed shut so tight they almost hurt, he felt something wet roll down his cheek and so he tightened the hold he had on his best friend. Sugino reciprocated, one of his own hands gently cupping the back of his head, fingers burying past silken blue hair, so that he could very lightly bring the other’s face closer and tuck it underneath his chin. Now normally, Nagisa would have combusted with embarrassment at being so close to another student, especially in such a public setting like this, but right now he felt like nothing more than some primal urge begging him to soak in as much of that embrace as possible. To be selfish for once and just stay as close as he can even if it means he dies there. To let himself be vulnerable for a change. The movie, those memories they all washed away and he felt nothing but safe….

  The next morning he woke up with his head on someone’s shoulder, a fluffy blanket raised upto his chin. He blinked the haziness out of his eyes to find himself in front of inky locks.

 “You alright there, Nagisa?” Sugino looked at him with a smile. Oh he was already up. That’s new.

 Nagisa’s eyes widened, his face erupting with redness as the events of the previous night replayed in his inner-theatre like those epic fail compilations Karma likes to laugh at. He jumped back to the other end of the couch, as far away from Sugino as possible.

 “Oh god, Sugino, I am so sorry,” Nagisa whispered as loudly as he could without waking up his still snoozing classmates, “what happened last night was so weird and I put you in such an awkward position and I’m super sorry I swear that will never happen again and you must’ve been so embarrassed honestly you should've just pushed me off when I fell asleep I really wouldn’t have minded this was so weird and-”

 “Nagisa, chill,” Sugino moved closer and placed a hand on the rambling boy’s shoulder, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards with slight amusement, “it’s cool. It’s normal for people to get scared during horror movies - it’s kind of the reason why they were made, you know. Besides if you looked really distressed and if I couldn’t do anything to help you then why are we even friends.”

 “Yeah but-”

 “No buts,” Sugino cut in, “you’re always ready to help others so don’t be surprised to find otu that others want to help you.”

 Nagisa sighed. He looked up at the other boy with a slight blush, “well, um, thank you. For that. It was really nice of you.”

 Sugino’s hand squeezed on his shoulder and he felt that familiar thrill shoot down his arm as the taller smiled, “no problem, Nagisa.”

 (“Next time we decide to do a bonding activity,” Fuwa says during breakfast as she’s munching through a honey dripping pancake, “we should all go camping.”

 Collectively the class shuddered, their minds being filled with visions of Fuwa holding up a chainsaw on full speed and running around like a mad woman, of fire enveloping a forest and demolishing a once peaceful campsite and dark grey mushroom clouds puffing out like an ashy eruption, “no thank you.”)

  For some reason he finds himself in these sort of situations more and more. Like when he feels himself clinging closer to Okano when she bridal carries him up the mountain after he had injured his leg during a training exercise (which is interesting because normally being in such an unmasculine position would make his insecurities flare up like crazy); or when his arms tighten around Karma so much that it feels like their bodies are going to fuse together when the red head piggy-back carries him during a race; or when he just sighs in contentment when Maehara slings him over his shoulder instead of flailing around like he usually would when the brown-eyed boy declared that he was studying too hard and ‘offered’ to take him karaoke singing with everyone else.

 In the back of his mind, he feels like the amount of affectionate touches he receives have almost quadrupled in size -  there hasn’t been a day where he hasn’t gotten either a head pat, friendly noogie or side hug. There was even a tickling incident that led to his male classmates dogpiling him (because in 3-E the A in PDA can also mean aggression).

 No one comments on it though.

 It’s almost like Irina-Sensei’s comment about the students of 3-E having ‘some creepy hive mind’ is actually true.

 (That comment actually lead to the class planning via group chat to speak in monotonic unison in front of her for an entire half an hour just to mess with her. It worked.)

  “I still don’t understand why you people like drinking this leaf juice,” Fuwa scrunched her nose at the ceramic cup in her hand. Due to the pleasant weather, Kanzaki, Kayano and Okuda decided to have a tea party and Nagisa being the tea lover that he was was more than happy to accept their invitation.

 “Hey,” Kayano glared at her, making a shooing gesture with one of her hands, “Group four only.”

 “Kayano,” Nagisa said firmly, “she can stay if she wants.”

 “But she’s disrespecting the tea.”

 Nagisa shook his head and sighed whilst Kanzaki giggled into her cup.

 “Listen Fuwa,” Kayano rounded on the female otaku, “whilst I stand by the statement that pudding is the closest thing to perfection humanity has ever created and I would sell this entire class for a lifetime supply of pudding cups without a second thought (“Say what now?” Nagisa backtracked), a cup of nice warm tea can truly heal your soul. It’s science.”

 “That is true,” Okuda piped up, gently pushing her glasses up, “a cup of hot anything in your hands mimics human warmth which is said to have calming properties. So it basically means that warm drinks can mimic the need for human care and touch.”

 ‘ Well ,’ Nagisa blinked, thinking back to the mountain of tea bags that reside in his bedroom’s dustbin, ‘ that explains a lot. ’

 “So if you guys ever feel too single,” Fuwa laughed and gave them double finger guns, “you know what to do.”

 Whilst the rest of his company gave responding giggles, Nagisa felt a tug on his elbow and let it go limp to allow the greenette sitting next to him to tug it downwards. When he felt her link her pinky with his he turned to look at her to see a sunny beam directed straight at him.

 And he smiles back.

 Because he’s not alone anymore.

[kindasadwriter]

This turned out to be way longer than I expected so I put a cut in.  Hope you like this anon! 

While he had no clue where you were he knew you were nearby thanks to Hattori’s absence.  The bird who had been loyal to him and only him for years developed a weakness for you at your first meeting, irksome at times but he had no right to judge considering his own feelings.  Though he couldn’t help but wonder if Hattori would be so enamored if you processed a different devil fruit power or none at all.  

He’d never get an absolute answer but he was fairly certain if you were anything other than a bird Hattori would be far less interested.  

Turning a corner to cut through a nearby alley Lucci’s frown deepened when he realized there was still no sign or trace of you.  If he was searching for anybody else he’d have more patience however this was you and it was very likely you were not only already aware of his presence but knew he was searching for you as well.  Which meant you were purposely avoiding him. 

Which was beyond infuriating.

Emotions aside, while the two of you have fought in the past he’d never managed to seriously injure you and during your more recent meetings he made no effort to do so.  If you noticed the change in nature you kept it to yourself, and if that was the case he was thankful for your silence as it kept his pride completely intact.  Regardless of what he told himself or how he looked at it, falling in love with an unaligned informant was embarrassing and dangerous considering his own occupation.  

There was nothing he could do though.  The government could try to send others but you were very particular with those you interacted with and rather than waste resources to find another lesion to work with you, it was easier to just send him.  

 Watching him from the sky you chuckled as Lucci continued to search for you.  You were well aware he knew you were here however revealing yourself like that was no fun.  Well that and it was strategic to remind the house cat that you couldn’t be found that easily, though you would admit thanks to his keen senses and Hattori’s infatuation he was the one that found you with the most ease.  Glancing at the bird that’d was peacefully perched on your shoulder, you could admit to yourself that you’d developed a sort of soft spot for the house cat over the past few years.  You had a hunch he’d developed something similar for you but he was a difficult man to read. 

Wings getting tired you glided down to a nearby building and transformed back to normal.  Wings turned back to arms and talons turned back to legs.  You’d consumed your devil fruit as a child and so your bird like abilities had become second nature.  Wanting to have some fun with him you found a nearby fire escape and stealthy made your way down to the ground.  Arguably you were putting yourself at a disadvantage considering Lucci’s power-both physical and devil fruit ability but the opportunity to sneak up on the man or at the very least surprise him was far too good to pass up. 

Spying on the spy, you followed him around careful not to make a sound.  Every so often Hattori would notice how close you were to Lucci and would try to fly back to the man but you made sure to keep the bird in place by using your left arm to anchor him down onto your shoulder.  If he were to return to Lucci no doubt he’d know just how close you were.  

Hattori really was a peculiar bird.  They had no devil fruit and yet they could find Lucci and yourself as if the two of you had trackers that led the bird to you.  At first you believed the bird to be a very realistic robot but an accident between you and Lucci proved otherwise.  You still felt a little guilty but time had healed the birds wounded wing and neither Lucci or Hattori seemed to hold a grudge over it.

As Lucci stepped out of an alley way and back into the public you let him get a little further before stepping out to continue your stalking.  Humming softly you had to wonder exactly what the man needed this time.  It hadn’t been all that long since you’d last met and it was rare for him to need more information so soon.  Had you unknowingly come across valuable information or had the house cat docked on the same island as you by chance? If it was the latter there was no guarantee he was actually searching for you right now and even if he was it was of his own will rather than orders.  

The possibility brought a small smile to your face.  So distracted by the thought your grip on the pigeon loosened and sensing the opportunity to return to Lucci and alert him to your presence Hattori launched himself off your shoulder and was back with Lucci in moments.  

“..Ah..” You observed as the man eyed the bird before turning his head slightly to look back and scan the area, “Not great.” You added as the two of you made eye contact.  

Well, this was fine too.  

Transforming back into your half bird form you gave the man a wink before taking off into the sky.  Regardless of where you went he’d be able to track you now so you might as well go somewhere more private to talk or fight.  Really you’d prefer the former but every so often he’d ask for information you weren’t willing to give the government and that’d result in a fight between the two of you.  Him trying to force the information out of you without killing you(because let’s face it you were a valuable resource) and you trying to push him back and look for a proper means of escape.  

Spotting a fairly secluded area you landed but didn’t bother transforming back.  It didn’t take much longer for Lucci to arrive.  

“Hey house cat.” You greeted with a smile.

His frown deepened at the nickname but he said nothing regarding it, “How long were you following me?”

Innocently humming you tilted your head to the side, “No idea what you’re talking about.” You replied, “I definitely didn’t follow you all the way from that restaurant, through the alley ways for a good hour or so and then through town for a little bit.”

Trying to keep his brow from twitching Lucci took a deep breath before letting out an exasperated sigh.  How was it one woman could be so irritating? Not wanting risk playing any of her games, both for professional and personal reasons Lucci cut straight to the point, “What do you know about the country of Dressrosa?”

Now that was a..complicated subject.  The country had changed drastically since Doflamingo took it over and getting information about what happened was..difficult if not confusing.  You’d visited it on several occasions but talking to people and some of the strange toys had only made things more confusing.  Stories seemed to contradict or end without reason.  Citizens had blank spaces in their memories, photos they couldn’t explain, and other odd occurrences.  

You’d wanted to go back to investigate more, simply to satisfy your own curiosity but the heavenly demon had sent you a very clear warning that if you returned to that country you wouldn’t leave it.  While you didn’t doubt your own strength you also weren’t foolish enough to put yourself in a situation where an entire island could be easily turned against you and so you’d taken his warning to heart and never returned.  

“Not that I doubt your strength but if you’re planning on taking a trip to Dressrosa I’d advice you to be more cautious than you were today.”

“Care to expand on that?” He questioned.

Not all that protective over Doflamingo or the country of Dressrossa you were happy to tell him a majority of what you knew, which unfortunately wasn’t nearly as much as you’d like.  The underground SMILES, green bit, Doflamingo’s odd rise to power, the human like toys, and the citizens odd behavior at times.  

Lucci wasn’t surprised by a majority of the information you gave as CP0 had already gathered the same though there were some loose ends that were tied up by what you said.  If he thought you were holding out on him he would’ve said something but by the time you finished talking you had an unsatisfied expression, it was the same look you had when he refused to tell you how he loss to straw hat.  Actually it was the same look you wore whenever you didn’t know as much as you wanted to, it was amusing and cute and at times it made him wonder if fate had originally intended for the both of you to consume the others devil fruit.  

“I thought you’d know more.” He finally said, earning himself a warning glare.  Shamefully and painfully aware that you’d probably been stalking him for quite some time before he found you he continued to push your buttons.  His words really weren’t all that insulting if you thought about it, the fact you knew anymore than CP0 was beyond amazing especially considering you worked alone for the most part(your only-ally other than himself to a degree-being the media that protected you and had far too much leverage over the government for anything to be done to you without facing a wave of backlash that), well you really were something else.  

“Well if it’s not good enough you can always go ask some other world class informant.” You snapped.

“I might have to.” He casually agreed.

Fingers involuntarily twitching, you took a step towards Lucci.  Jabbing your index finger directly into his chest you glared daggers as you spoke up, “I know for a fact there isn’t anybody else like me” You paused before adding, “Anywhere, Lucci.”

Were you defending your profession or simply stating a fact?  It was true for both but he wouldn’t admit it to you right now.  If he did your conversation would be over and the two of you would have to go your own ways.  It was impossible to avoid, the two of you really weren’t meant to be close or have any sort of relationship and yet you did.  Lucci still recalled the shocked looks and surprised tones when he returned from his first meeting with you.  He supposed he was lucky you took an interest in him because he’d gotten more information out of you than anybody else had and since then you’d become a part of his job to the government.  And what did you get in return? 

Looking up at the sky, or rather the news coo that had been circling above the two of you for some time he really couldn’t help but wonder.  He’d tried questioning you before but so far it had been the one thing you refused to answer him about.  Never the less, moments like this were more than enough for now.  This kept the two of you alive and allowed you to continue meeting and until he could find out exactly what your relationship to the media was, what you were getting and they had over you and you over them-there really was nothing more you could do.  

[allsassnoclass]

hi hazel!! how about “i got you for secret santa so i got you this really expensive but sentimental gift that you’ve always wanted, hoping you’ll never find out it’s from me - and that i’ve been in love with you 1234567 years” with hmmmm mashton? maybe? feels mashton-y to me but whatever u think works best is good with me <3 love you <3

anything for you Iba <3

Ficmas day 10

Rating: T for language

Read on AO3

Getting Ashton for Secret Santa is both a blessing and a curse: a blessing because Michael already knows what he wants to give him, a curse because he wants to give him the world.  Well, more accurately he wants to give him the entire universe.

Ashton Irwin is arguably the universe’s finest creation, founded on stardust and made up of infinite galaxies.  Michael has been in love with him since around the time they met.  Ashton deserves something as wonderful and celestial as himself, but that would require Michael to suddenly develop the ability to trap the universe in the palm of his hands, cradled close until he could hand it off to someone worthy enough to hold it.  Even if he could, the universe seems like a fragile thing.  He’d probably drop it, knowing him.

Maybe getting Ashton was more of a curse than a blessing.  If he can’t give him some sort of celestial body, he’s out of ideas.  It’s probably for the best, because he’s not exactly keen on letting Ashton know that he’s been in love with him for so long, and you can’t give someone the entire universe without prompting a few questions.

He seeks out Calum for advice, because Calum is great at gifts, but he doesn’t want him to know who he got so he asks what he would give Luke instead.

It turns out Calum is so great at gifts because he knows exactly what each person needs.  Knowing what Luke needs does nothing to help Michael figure out what to get Ashton.

Michael spends a lot of time googling stuff like good gifts for friends and good gifts for crushes and then backtracks, because most of those imply that he would be revealing his crush.  The search for good gifts for someone you’re in love with who is also one of your best friends WITHOUT letting them know you love them but still the best present yields no useful results.  Michael doesn’t want to regurgitate generic “sentimental” gifts suggested in lists on various websites, he wants something that Ashton will truly appreciate.  He wants to get him something that only someone who knows him would give him.

He’s pretty sure buying presents isn’t supposed to make you want to pull out all of your hair, but Michael wants to pull out all of his hair.  The one solace is that they selected their people early, so he still has a lot of time to figure out a suitable present.

-/-

Michael mostly forgets about the stresses of Secret Santa for a while.  He has to get presents for other people, too, so he focuses on that, and decorating the house, and baking some Christmas cookies, and everything except Ashton’s present.  Unfortunately, this means that by the time Ashton hosts his yearly It’s a Wonderful Life watch party, it’s late enough that Michael should start panicking a little.

Each year, Ashton invites as many friends as can fit in his basement over to watch his favorite Christmas movie.  He used to watch it with his mom every year, and even though they live physically far apart he once told Michael that it makes him feel closer to her.  Over the years, the night has turned into an entire event.  Ashton sets up a projector and prepares more snacks than can be eaten.  Michael attends every year, even though the movie seems to get longer every time he watches it.  Last year he kept dozing off, enough so that Ashton had let him curl on the couch with his head in his lap and sleep for most of the second half.  The weight of Ashton’s hand resting on his shoulder and the occasional gentle fingers brushing over his hair are something Michael thinks about often.

This year he ends up in an armchair, Luke between his legs on the floor and Ashton all the way on the other side of the room.  It makes him focus on the movie a bit more, and during the scene where George asks what Mary wants and says he’ll lasso the moon Michael thinks yeah dude, you get it.

Unfortunately he is not George and Ashton is not Mary, and by the time he leaves his house that night, lingering late enough that Ashton offers to let him stay, he is no closer to figuring out his gift.

-/-

Michael can’t lasso the moon, but maybe he was onto something there.

He can’t stop thinking about space.  Ashton has always had an appreciation for it, but since his trip to the desert where he was finally able to see the Milky Way unobstructed he’s developed a new fascination with it.  He’s not going to be an astronomer, but he knows more about constellations than Michael does, and he knows a lot about astrology even if he doesn’t fully believe in it.

Michael has wanted to give him the universe this entire time.  Maybe instead of finding a different present, he should focus on figuring out a way to do that.

Maybe he should just get Ashton one of those model solar system kits that kids assemble for science projects.  That would be giving him the universe in a punny way that he might appreciate, but then he’ll have to explain that give you the universe was his original goal, which will still prompt questions.  Without that sentiment, it’s kind of a crummy gift.

He needs something that isn’t punny but that manages to accomplish his goal without revealing that he’s in love.  He’ll find a way to accomplish that out of sheer stubbornness if he has to.

-/-

Schedules don’t properly align for a full group Secret Santa exchange, so everyone is tasked with contacting their present recipient and setting up a time to give them their gift.  Michael sends Ashton a text that reads hey when do you want your secret santa present and gets a string of emojis in response.  Eventually he manages to wrangle a time from him and loads the present into his car.

It’s a decent gift, in his opinion.  He’s both relieved and nervous about having to give it to Ashton without the full group, because there’s significantly less people who can judge him but there’s significantly more opportunity for Ashton to ask uncomfortable questions.

The drive feels longer than it should.  That doesn’t bode well.

Michael lets himself in once he gets to the house, because there’s no telling where inside Ashton might be.  He calls his name and gets an answer in the direction of the bedroom, toeing off his shoes and getting rid of his coat before setting off towards his destination.  Ashton is sitting on the bed, scribbling something furiously in a journal.  Michael waits until he’s done and tosses the small leather book aside to fully enter the space.

“Hi,” Ashton says, beaming.

“Hi,” Michael says.  “Special delivery.”

The package in his hands is rectangular and flat, covered with shiny red and green paper.  Ashton eyes it curiously, taking it when offered and frowning at the weight.

“There’s a few parts, so be careful,” Michael says.

“I will.”

Ashton tears through the paper inelegantly, strips of it floating down to the floor, and Michael watches him read the framed certificate on top.

“I got you a star,” Michael says.  “That’s the certificate for it, and it’s under your name in a database.  There’s a star map, so you can try to find it the next time you have a clear sky.”

“Michael, this is amazing,” Ashton says, aglow with enthusiasm.  “This is so fucking cool!”

He looks at the star map, eyes tracking over the many tiny dots on it and the one circled that’s his.

“Wow.  My very own star.”

It wasn't quite the whole universe or lassoing the moon, but Michael thinks he did alright given the circumstances.

The next frame is a bit bigger, a blue background with a white star chart and lettering at the bottom that reads July 7, 1994 - a star is born.

“Tell me something, boy,” Ashton croons.  “Which one of us is Lady Gaga and which one of us is Bradley Cooper?”

“Neither of us,” Michael sighs.  He wants to facepalm.  He knew this was a risk when he put that inscription.  “Did you even watch that movie?  You want us to end up like them?”

“No,” Ashton says.

“You’re the star,” Michael says.  “It’s a map of the sky when you were born.  I thought it was a fitting caption.”

“Aw,” Ashton says.  “That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“You don’t have to make fun,” Michael says, embarrassment flaring inside him.  This was a last-minute decision off one of those generic lists, and he’s regretting it.  Getting teased for his crush was not something he anticipated nor wanted today, especially since Ashton should know better.

“I’m not making fun,” Ashton says, tearing his eyes away from the chart to look up at Michael and frown.  “You just compared me to an actual celestial body.  That’s really fucking sweet.  The only thing sweeter would be if someone wrote me a proper love song.”

Michael could try his hand at that.

He shrugs.

“It’s almost romantic,” Ashton says.  Michael’s breath freezes in his chest.  Ashton puts the gifts down on his bed and shifts so he can face Michael fully, eyes assessing.

“Do you have feelings for me?” he asks.

Brush it off, Michael tells himself.  Laugh and call him bro and say you don’t.

There seems to be a communication delay between his mind and his body, because Michael doesn’t do any of those things.  He stands there like a deer in headlights, paralyzed the longer Ashton looks at him.

“It’s okay if you do,” Ashton says.  “I just want to know.”

Well what the fuck is he supposed to say to that?

No!

What comes out sounds more like a choking cat.

“Okay,” Ashton says.  “You want to sit down?”

Again the answer is no, but that word seems to have left his vocabulary, so he sinks onto the bed next to Ashton.  He reaches out a gentle hand and places it on his forearm.

“You know, you not saying anything is making me nervous, but I’m just going to keep going.  You can tell me to stop at any time,” Ashton says.  “I like you, and I’ve been getting the impression that you like me, too.  If that’s wrong, then correct me, but if that’s right then you don’t have to be embarrassed or upset, because it’s mutual.”

Michael turns the words over in his head, giving them a second perusal to ensure he had heard correctly.

“What?”

“Oh, he speaks,” Ashton says dryly.

“I was not picking up any vibes from you,” Michael says.  “Now you expect me to believe you like me?”

“Well it’s not like I wanted you to know,” Ashton says.  “Seriously, do you think I let anyone sleep through It’s a Wonderful Life?  You got lucky last year because I like you.”

Now that he thinks about it, Ashton might have a point.  Other people who doze off get food thrown at them with the excuse that they should have stayed home if they were planning on sleeping.

“Huh,” Michael says.

“So,” Ashton says, “do you like me?  You never actually confirmed it.”

“Oh.  Yeah, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Look, I’m processing a lot right now.  I bought you a fucking star, Ashton.  Use your context clues.”

“Use my context clues?  What are you, my literature teacher?”

“What about your boyfriend?”

Nice.  That was smooth.

Ashton smiles.  Just like that, the bridge Michael was standing on made of their banter melts into a gooey mess, dropping him into a bunch of sappy feelings below.  He could bask in that smile forever, shining brighter than all of the stars in the sky.

“That sounds good to me,” Ashton says.  Michael smiles shyly back, something that makes Ashton’s eyes crinkle at the edges.  He reaches out and squeezes his hand, something he’s going to be able to do freely now, and Ashton tangles their fingers together.

All things considered, Michael thinks he one-upped George Bailey here.  George said he was going to lasso the moon and then didn’t even do that.  Michael bought Ashton a whole fucking star and got his own star in return.  He’s probably the luckiest man in the universe.

[hollenka99]

Whenever and Wherever

This is ridiculously late because I didn’t have much time to work on it thanks to irl stuff so sorry about that but happy (belated) birthday @bupine. Have some bench trio.

1.

2.

The first time their paths cross, it's in the tailor shop run by Tommy's family. Tommy seems to be manning the counter while his brothers and father are supposedly in the back. The customer is clearly an enderman hybrid if his facial features are anything to go off of. He's just here to order a suit for a new job as a stenographer for the mayor apparently. Ranboo lingers longer than he likely expected to when he walked in as the three of them make conversation together. Before their latest acquaintance heads off, they decide to meet up again outside of work hours.

Talking to Ranboo comes easy. Before too long, you could tell Ranboo's work schedule based on where he was found lingering. At the tailor's shop? Well, it was likely one of his days off and he wanted to keep Tommy company for a while as the owner's son worked. At the bakery? That usually meant Ranboo was on his lunch break and hoped to sneak something sweet into his midday meal. He occasionally buys a few flowers for Tommy with the excuse of 'livening up his workspace' and offers Tubbo his attempts at baking. Whenever possible, the three of them either made time during lunch or in the evening to hang out together.

Then Ranboo seems to realise he gets off work around about the same time the bakery owned by Tubbo's family closes for the night. That mixed with the fact he really isn't the best with anything kitchen related... Listen, Tubbo was simply being a good friend by helping him out. Plus, who wouldn't want to take advantage of an excuse to spend more time with one of their best friends? It becomes a... thing, their evening practice sessions. Tommy once comments on it during a lunchtime meet-up, only to tease them but it kind of hits Tubbo how often Ranboo swings by so they can bake together.

It becomes blatantly clear everyone knows what's going on between the two of them when they hang around at the back of the tailor's one afternoon.

"If one of you doesn't ask the other out, I will break into your homes, steal your clothes and alter them so they're unwearable. Then I will make you pay to have them fixed."

"We... We uh, aren't-" Ranboo begins defending.

Tommy glances up from his sewing machine as he switches it off. "Fucking hell, just kiss or something, I don't know. But please stop forcing me to watch the two of you make eyes at each other whenever we hang out. We haven't been 16 for years. Sort yourselves out or whatever."

So they clumsily arrange a 'date' and let things go from there. It goes... well. A second attempt to make sure the first wasn't a fluke wouldn't hurt, nor would a third. It soon gets to the point where this new dynamic feels entirely natural. Tubbo's only worry is that Tommy might feel like a third wheel. Their mutual friend assures them he doesn't care about that. Besides, they know him, if he was actually bothered by it, he would have complained a ton by now.

Getting engaged isn't a big affair. In fact, it is a complete mess that occurs on Ranboo's sofa following a lull in conversation. He trips over his words, segues into various rambley detours and eventually manages to get to the point where he asks the all important question. Tubbo knew his answer the moment he realised where his boyfriend was headed with the conversation.

"So Tommy," Tubbo leans over the counter. The way he very blatantly holds Ranboo's hand only causes his attempt at acting nonchalant to come close to failing. "How much for a couple of wedding suits?"

"You're not getting a friend discount. In fact, I think I'll double the typical asking price purely because you are my friends."

"I hate you, you know that, right?"

"Hmm, might even make it triple."

"I will personally uninvite you."

Tommy and Tubbo maintain straight-faced eye contact for all of five seconds before the taller of the two breaks into a grin. Before the new fiancees can react, Tommy has his arms around both of them, drawing them in closer.

"How could neither of you tell me you were looking at rings? Absolute crime, that, if you ask me. Especially since I'm obviously the bestest man around. Disgraceful, the both of you. How can you sleep at night knowing you left me out of the loop? Gonna have to quadruple the price as punishment."

An elbow to the ribs leads to a slightly pained inhale before the three of them descend into snickers.

3.

Is it bad that he forgot land-dwellers need air?

Tubbo had been watched the two of them from afar. The one with sand-coloured hair makes himself round as he falls a significant distance towards the water. After a few repeats of this odd practice, he decides he will greet the human when he next appears in his domain. Tubbo grabs him by the arms with a friendly smile but it doesn't seem the human is so keen to befriend any merfolk. In the struggle, he gets a weird appendage to the face. Not one to be easily put off, Tubbo swims to the surface in time to see the boy communicating angrily with one whose hair colour resembled those of a beast he's been warned about. He thinks he'll dub them Sand and Orca for simplicity.

Orca spots him watching their conversation and walks over, positioning himself close enough to include Tubbo in any discussions they may want to have with him but far enough that Tubbo couldn't physically reach either of the boys with his arms. Sand greatly disapproves of this supposed fraternising with the enemy. Orca keeps attempting to communicate but their languages are vastly different so all it amounts to are gestures. When they leave, Tubbo finds it funny how the one named after a deadly predator is the most willing to be friendly while the one whose namesake he loves lounging upon occasionally had a tendency to come off as hostile.

The pair of humans don't visit him everyday and even on the days they do, the position of the sun isn't always the same when they arrive. Nevertheless, they continue to come as often as they are able and Tubbo appreciates that. He can't replicate any of their human vocalisations and though they try, neither of the human boys are particularly great at whistling and chirping properly. The constant gesturing seems to be the only way for them to communicate but they somehow manage to become firm friends despite it all.

One thing Tubbo definitely understands is fish. He is perfectly capable of getting his own food and honestly prefers catching it live anyway but if they want to offer him a snack as a sign of friendship, he's hardly going to say no. There's always the option to share the food with his family later. He brings Sand his namesake as a way of thanking them. Even if he knew a good place to observe orcas so he could extend a similar gesture to his other friend, Orca apparently can't swim. At least, that's how Tubbo interpreted it when his friend once pointed to himself, motioned as if he was pulling himself forward in water and shook his head afterwards. So Sand is the only one who sometimes joins him in the shallower water. And Tubbo has learned from his mistakes now, he makes no attempts to keep Sand below the surface longer than the human boy can manage.

One day not long after they meet, Sand tries to tell him something he can sense is important. He gestures between himself and Orca, points to the sun and makes a wide circular motion with his finger, extends his arm so it rises above their heads then ends the message by pointing to the shore. It takes another round of reiterating before Tubbo begins to potentially understand. They will get big with the sun and be here? It sounds odd but he supposes he can't physically stop them from leaving.

The sea grows warmer and cooler then back again over and over. He visits their spot each time the temperature rises. They never come. Or maybe he just keeps missing them when they do show up. He's not sure. Either way, he gets older and grows into young adulthood as the years continue to pass. He hopes the same is happening to them. They did promise to return once they got bigger too, after all. Although, the thought he might have wildly misunderstood Sand's parting message isn't always easy to not dwell on.

His waiting finally pays off and he couldn't be more ecstatic. They've both grown weird shells on their backs that he feels would be ineffective at defending them, their feet are disproportionately longer and their faces are practically unrecognisable with protective shells around their eyes and mouths. They are much larger than the last time they all saw each other too. But it's them, it's really them! Not to mention them seem to have developed the ability to breathe underwater somehow. Unsure how to greet them properly after all this time, he rushes off to the seabed with a grin and presents them with a fish as well as a fistful of sand. They look between themselves before accepting the gifts gratefully.

As the sunlight wanes on the surface, the humans sit on their familiar secluded spot of a caved area while Tubbo lets the water lap around him. The human duo have suddenly lost their strange shells now, both on their backs and faces, as well as returned to having better proportioned feet. Orca offers his own reunion gift. If Tubbo were human, he might have made use of non-existent tear ducts to inadvertently express how moved he was by the object. Because oh wow, he was never able to communicate Orca's

4.

Tubbo knows what it is like to be displaced by war. He'd been born in a time of technical peacetime, though everyone knew this would change sooner rather than later with all the tension.

He's 9 when the war seems to decide it's time to directly come for him as the son of the president, more than the resource shortages or street violence ever could. An attempt to assassinate his father that he'd been too close to lands him in hospital. It's officially too dangerous for him to remain a symbol of how safe their country was. All those not old enough to potentially enlist get evacuated, Tubbo especially.

Snowchester is... alright. It's isolated and out of the way, which is probably for the best in the general scheme of things. But at his age, all he really cares about is making the most of the snow before the novelty wears off and questioning how long it will be before he can go home to his family again. The answer was less than a month and 'we don't know so you'll just have to sit tight. Okay?'. So he reluctantly settles into his new life. He makes an effort to get to know the handful of other kids from the village in the hopes of gaining at least one friend to help him through this, he wanders around the marketplace on Tuesdays to find the sweet highlight of his week and for the hell of it, he challenges himself to become a master snow sculptor. Tubbo also writes to home to let his family know how he's doing but it feels like it has to go through 50 hands just to reach them for the sake of maintaining his secrecy which really sucks. By the time he celebrates his first birthday without them there, he had given up on arguing about the risk of just ringing them.

Then when he's 11, men posing as sea merchants arrive on their frozen shores during the night. Before he's even fully woken up, he's on a horse in his goddamn pyjamas and clutching a pitiful bag filled with whatever he and foster father had managed to stuff into it in 2 seconds. He doesn't get to bid Snowchester a proper goodbye. They're already on a rowboat they'd kind of stolen after racing through the trees when reality finally begins dawning on him. The man who'd looked after him explains they were headed to a new place that would hopefully prove to be safer than his old home.

He's used to the cold of a tundra by now. This place is more landlocked than Snowchester but not everything can be on the coast. He guesses the isolation and lack of enemy reinforcements arriving directly at a village is a good way to decrease the risk of attack. He hates it here. Snowchester might have been a fair distance from other places but at least there had been a bunch of people around. This was literally one guy looking after two kids, now three, in the middle of actual nowhere.

Phil does his best to be accommodating, he will give him that. And the other boys he's living with aren't too bad half the time. But it's too much. He decides he'd rather keep to himself. Ranboo, like Phil, is a bit more patient with him than Tommy is. Ranboo is willing to play a chess game he has no chance of winning or solve the same jigsaw for the 5th time that week. Tommy, on the other hand, will talk at him or encourage him to go outside.

"If nothing dangerous happens, you have to... make me a hot chocolate. Yeah, that seems like a decent payment."

"Payment for what?"

"For getting you to stop sulking and enjoy the snow obviously."

He humours him but he makes sure his reluctance is unmistakeably evident. It turns out Tommy has excellent aim when it comes to throwing snowballs. When Tubbo complains about this, Tommy simply shrugs and reveals his brother is the commander of the army so what did he expect? It doesn't matter whether you're hunting for food or stopping the enemy from getting you first, precision and accuracy are important for survival. That's part of the wisdom Wilbur had bestowed upon him before going off to lead their side to victory anyway. Tommy then ends his speech by standing next to Tubbo in order to cram a previously concealed handful of snow down his back in a surprise attack. Tubbo swears he is going to work out how to dislodge half the roof's worth of snow on Tommy's head tomorrow for that. When they finally head back inside, Tommy lets him know he'd like his drink to include whipped cream and those tiny marshmallows if they still have some lying around.

In time, he learns Tommy had been sent far from home the same as he had. Logsted had been 'a tiny shithole with nothing on offer to do' that eventually fell prey to the same exploitable feature that Snowchester had. Phil had been an old contact of General Soot's so when the initial relocation efforts fell through, Tommy was sent to Phil. No big deal. Well... listen, Tommy can act like a prat at the best of times but he supposes it is nice knowing he's not the only one paranoid this will abruptly end terribly one night.

The days, weeks, months roll by swiftly. The three of them have snowball fights at least onc

5.

Technically, it's Tommy's fault they nearly die. He'd been so insistent on fighting the dragon like his father once had that Tubbo had lost the will to try dissuade him. To be fair, he was all for it. It was only that Tommy was eager to jump right into the challenge while Tubbo… would prefer to actually survive.

They agree it will be an 'in and out' affair. They'll sneak down to the nearby portal at night, kill the dragon and hop back to the Overworld before their absences are noticed. If their families are unaware, they will never get in trouble for this. It can be an epic tale to impress future acquaintances but one to keep to themselves within earshot of those who'd scold them for it.

So that's what they do. With diamond armour and arrows they 'borrowed', the pair of 15 year olds face the dragon. They've already assigned themselves roles with Tubbo being in charge of destroying the crystals and Tommy tackling the dragon as a distraction. The plan is to take on the beast together once Tubbo's initial objective is complete.

It goes to shit when Tubbo barely makes a water clutch after being pushed off a tower by the force of an exploding ender crystal. Tommy had tried to get closer to him to provide support but ended up getting caught in the dragon's toxic breath. And then one of them must have accidentally triggered hostile attention from the surrounding endermen. A perfect example of sod's law, everything that could go wrong seemingly does. They tire themselves out too much by trying to return to more neutral odds. It doesn't happen. The cherry on top was the dragon knocking Tubbo into a pillar with her wing.

He's definitely had enough of this bullshit by the time he lets the developing concussion steal his consciousness. Let them just respawn in the bed they'd set up right outside the stronghold's portal room so they can be done with this. He really doesn't want to lose a life, especially not to a stupid stunt like this. But by this point? Fuck it.

When he wakes, it is not on the ground. It seems to be in a building on some sort. Has someone taken him home to work through his injuries? Tommy couldn't have since the next time Tubbo sees him, he has a haphazardly constructed splint on his leg. They bicker about their disastrous exploits until Tommy grouchily alerts them to the presence of their host, a young looking enderman.

It passes them a written message and Tommy, being the son of someone who is pretty much a jack of all trades when it comes to learning about other cultures, has a go at reading it. It's nothing too elaborate, just a summary of what happened while Tubbo was unconscious. The End native had spotted their plight as Tommy continued to get bombarded by aggressive endermen and toxic fumes courtesy of the dragon. All it had done was bring them home and attempt to give them medical assistance. Now here they were. At the bottom is a word Tommy's never seen before.

"Dunno what the fuck a Ranboo is."

"Maybe it's his name, idiot. Look at where it is, it's a signature."

"Oh, yeah maybe. What kind of stupid name is Ranboo though?"

They can't go back without the dragon dying and neither of them are in a position to make a second attempt, especially at the start when they are still both recovering. With no way home, they resign themselves to their new reality of living permanently in the End. The least they can do, in Tubbo's opinion, is try their best to communicate with their host by learning enderspeak. That goes... very slowly. Even with Ranboo helping out and Tommy's head start, it's not the easiest thing for them to learn. The humans share some of their language with the enderman in return.

Either way, they start living in their new home as Ranboo's guests. Their diet becomes saturated with chorus fruit and the first time either of them accidentally teleports during a meal, it's a shock. Their new friend waits until Tommy's broken leg heals before occasionally showing them around the islands that make up this dimension. They visit an end city that happens to have a ship nearby at some point and Tubbo resists the urge to lightly smack Tommy at the back of the head for acting like he's not impressed. They may possibly never be able to go home but come on. there is a literal massive ship floating in the sky.

Phil comes for them as soon as it feels like they might finally be getting used to their new way of life. They get the scolding of a lifetime mixed in with Phil making his relief and worry painfully obvious. They introduce Phil to Ranboo and of course the guy is conversational in enderspeak. At one point, Tubbo catches Tommy making a jabbing motion towards his father with his thumb incredibly subtly before rolling his eyes. As deeply in trouble as they are, as much as they were settling into what they believed to be a more permanent life change, the promise of home fills Tubbo with anticipation. He can't wait for the four of them to return to the Overworld.

Because you're coming too,

+1.

He's never been so eager to go to an airport in his life. His mum half listens while concentrating on the road as he rambles about all the plans the three of them had started making for the upcoming two weeks. There were so many games on their list for them to try. And yes, he knows they won't be able to get around to them all but they'll be damned if don't make an effort to dent it. Oh and then also all the stuff that got picked on the spinning wheel from Ranboo's stream a while ago.

Tubbo is beside himself as they wait in the arrival meeting area. There's no word of delays so come on, get here already. Then there he is, wearing his signature sunglasses and mask in the midst of the emerging crowd. Once the pair are close enough to do so, Tubbo throws his arms around his friend. And god, he knew Ranboo was much taller but he doesn't feel he'll hear the end of this, especially not once Tommy shows up.

They've already established this in preparatory voice calls but as they head towards the car, Tubbo explains that Tommy isn't due until tomorrow. So maybe they could watch one of those Starkid shows tonight since Ranboo's internal sense of time will be screwed by the long journey and Tubbo's hardly the best at maintaining a circadian rhythm as it is. His parents and sisters will go to bed and that's when the party can really start. Ranboo suggests The Trail to Oregon purely because the scene where Slippery When Wet threatens to murder god lives rent free in his head. But it would ultimately be up to Tubbo when the time came tonight.

Just outside the car with Ranboo's luggage in the boot, he asks his mum to take a picture of the two of them. He dms it to the missing member of their trio with a smirk.

Tubbo: Bet you're so jealous right now

Tommy: No because he's going to hang out with me more after I get there

Tubbo: As if

Tubbo: Can't wait for this week

Tommy: Same

Tubbo: Ranboo says hi btw

Tommy: Wow cringe

Tommy: Can't go on call rn but I say hi too

Tubbo: Whos cringe now?

Tommy: Shut up

He and Ranboo spend the entire journey home chatting about everything and nothing. Oh, these next two weeks were going to be amazing. Tubbo can't wait.

Tubbo wakes slowly. He doesn't tend to be startled by Ranboo's lack of eyelids as often nowadays. They may not share a bed that frequently, separate homes and all that, but he's seen his husband crash on his sofa after an exhausting day enough times to gradually get used to it. Michael had managed to snuggle up between them at some point in the night too. The little zombie piglin boy is fast asleep as well. Tubbo readjusts his arm so it encompasses their adoptive son, drawing him closer slightly.

Distantly, he recalls he's planned to meet up with Tommy later and it makes him think. A husband who cares about him enough to make Tubbo one of people whose side he'd stand by if necessary, a son whom they both love and would defend with their lives and a best friend who still stuck by him despite how much they've changed in the several months since they first met. He'd like to think that regardless of the timeline or universe, he'd always have them or close enough copies.

Content with his situation, he lets his eyes slip close once more and drifts back to sleep.

[lostmarblehornets]

Hello...I'm sorry to bother you, bit would it be ok if I got Brian/Hoodie or Jay/Skully headcannons with a small, really shy, s/o, please?

Don’t worry, you aren’t a bother at all! I enjoyed writing this a lot! I too am small and really shy pshshshs

People who have been tagged per their request!: @ilkayri, @toastingstardust

The Small Moments

Brian

Brian loves it, honestly!

Brian’s personality fits very well with yours

Someone like him is very welcoming to someone who’s shy

Despite being an extrovert, Brian is very soft-spoken

Brian is just one of those people that people naturally feel comfortable around

He also loves to tease you about your height

Brian rarely teases you vocally

The closest is him calling you “smalls” as a reference to the Sandlot

But he WILL use your head as a makeshift armrest

Brian will also place things just out of your reach

Just so he gets to watch you struggle and laugh

After he’s gotten his enjoyment though, he’ll “come to your rescue”

In general, Brian is pretty mischievous with you

He loves making flirtatious comments and watching you get all flustered

The man has a way with words

Another thought:

Brian keeps a keen eye out for you

He always has ever since he picked up on your shyful nature

He knows all too well about situations becoming overwhelming

Always willing and there to be an escape from an engulfing situation

More thoughts!:

Brian is very much willing to be both a big and little spoon

He loves how his entire form can envelope with yours

How lovingly your delicate hands run through his locks as he enfold into your stomach

Also, Brian loves holding hands with you

His hands are REALLY warm and completely envelope yours

Brian also like resting his hand on the small of your back

He also really enjoys resting his head atop of yours

Even while standing and in public

Also cherishes that he has to lean down just a tad so you can kiss him 

And another:

One by one, Brian introduced you to his group of friends

Of course, he had you meet Tim first

Brian was slightly worried about his friend’s overly cold exterior conflicting with your bashful nature

The first time you had met Tim there was a lot of side-way glancing from both of you

But as you two began talking on your own terms, you hit it off quite well!

Your shy nature actually allowed Tim to feel less threatened in a way, allowing him to warm up to you

Soon after followed Jay, Seth, and ultimately Alex

It was a slow process, but Brian knew your limits!

Hoody-Centered Moments

The first time you had come into contact with the hooded figure was abrupt and terrifying to be sure

You had woken up to the sounds of rustling coming from out in the living room

You had crept out quietly, thinking not much of it, but it was better to be safe than sorry

Past the hallway, the warm glow of what you’d guess to be coming from the lamp that sat beside the couch

As you made the turn, you clamped a hand over your mouth to sneak away your gasp

Apparently, it wasn’t hidden well enough

Lingering red sockets landed upon your shaking form, crimson frown ever present

You froze on the spot and before you could even begin to collect yourself, the figured ripped its mask away

Before you, sat a beaten and bruised Brian

His lip trembled, eyes glued to you as a raw drop of blood weeped from his blemished nose

You rushed forward

You caressed and soothed each and every wound

All the while, Brian never spoke a word

That is until you pressed your honeyed lips upon a prominent gash across his cheek

That action was quickly followed by a mumble, “идите на хуй.”

From that moment on, Hoodster always came around your home when injured

It’s quite often for him to call you something by the lines of “кошечка”

After everything, Hoody’s favorite place to find himself at the end of the day is in your arms, in bed and at home

Jay

Small Flustered, meet Tall Flustered

Tall Flustered, meet Small Flustered

When it comes to demeanor, the two of you are incredibly similar

That on its own has its pros and cons

Pro: The two of you understand one another and your anxieties. 

Pro: You are able to read the other like a book and know when to pull them away from a situation before it becomes too much

Pro: The best nights are those spent together, alone, just enjoying the moment and the others company

Con: You two of you couldn’t and wouldn’t interact on your own. Neither of you would initiate anything

It took Alex literally walking over and introducing you two:

You had just been sitting at your seat, minding your own business, but every once in a while, you’d spare a quick glance at Jay

At the very moment, it appeared Jay was arguing with Alex; his teeth gritted, a blue eyed gaze stuck on Kralie. Jay’s voice was kept in a tight hush, a vibrant blush decorating his cheeks.

Alex appeared to be wearing a near opposite expression. Alex was leaning back comfortably, arms crossed over his chest. His signature smug grin coyed with his features, his voice anything but a quiet hush, “Jay, it’s easy. Watch.” Alex unlocked his arms and stood up from his chair. Jay sat there utterly taken aback as his friend marched on over to where you sat.

“Y/N, right?”

You sat much straighter at the sudden intrusion, your gaze locking with Alex’s. You could almost feel his mischief radiate off of him. “Um, yeah, what is it?”

Just as Alex appeared to open his mouth, there was a sudden outburst of noise, the sound of things falling over. You looked past Alex for a moment, he too looked back, to see Jay sprawled out on the ground, trying desperately to pull his leg free from his chair, his gaze jumping from Alex’s to yours in a panicked daze. Alex pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long sigh. “Listen, my friend Jay over there,” Alex jerked a thumb over his shoulder, “wants to take you out somewhere.”

The shuffling behind Alex finally ended as Jay appeared right behind Alex, his cheeks dusted in color, “H-hey.” 

Your eyes widened, “H-hey.” The two of you ogled one another

Alex gave an impish chuckle, “I’ll leave you two to it,” turning on his heel, patting Jay on the back as he walked past

There’s where it all began

Physical Affection!:

Jay absolutely adores intertwining your pinkies as you two do things separately

You may be reading a book while he edits a new project, but guess what??

Your pinkies?? INTERLOCKED

He also loves holding your hand

Jay adores the fact his hand envelopes yours

While holding hands, Jay subconsciously rubs his thumb over your knuckles

His thumb is quite large compared to your small knuckles

Jay loves to nestle his face into the crook of your neck

Skully-Centered Moments

Skully tries to keep himself separate from you almost entirely

He misses you dearly, but couldn’t bring himself to even give the possibility of you becoming mixed up in all of this

By any chance that he does interact with you, he’s very delicate

His touch is very soft and gentle

And he approaches you slowly, VERY much unlike Hoody

Will also leave you gifts!

A lot of the time they are small stones he had found beside a river

Or a bouquet of wildflowers

He thinks and cares for you while he is away but knows his presence while in his masked state may drag you into this mess 

When Jay does come back after a while of radio silence, please welcome him in the open arms. He’s tired and worried, please comfort him through it

[apprenticeofcups]

Heyo! If requests are open, you think you could do the Main 6 with an apprentice that's really affectionate? Not necessarily in a sexual way, but just really cuddly and a fan of physical contact

🐞Main 6 + Cuddlebug MC

Asra

He’s pretty keen on casual and frequent affection - good morning kisses, good night snuggles, holding hands about town

Rarely initiates cuddles, but always welcomes them

Likes to rest his chin on your shoulder or head (or have you do the same to him) while one of you works on a project

He still gets blushy whenever you initiate it

Not that it’s too much - he promises he’d tell you if it were - but he’s so used to keeping a cap on things, because he wants to be sure he’s not overstepping any boundaries with you

And he does get a little overwhelmed (in a good way); frequent PDA makes him feel very loved in a way he can’t quite articulate

Julian

Once he knows how much you appreciate physical affection, he gives it to you as often as he can

He doesn’t just kiss you when he gets home from the clinic; he sweeps you off your feet

He falls into your arms whenever possible (whether you can hold him up or not); he hugs you from behind while you’re working on something and peppers you with kisses

Likes holding hands when you go around town, but he greatly prefers leading you around, with you holding the crook of his elbow

Has a tendency to sprawl, throwing his legs over your lap, or draping his arm over your shoulders at the theater

Malak always waits for him to get up from the couch or the bed, then steals his spot and demand the affection his master relinquished

Nadia

Always surprised, and makes a little “oh!” sound when you come in for a casual hug or a smooch 

Careful about too much public affection; it’s good for people to know the Countess is in love, but there are limits

When it’s just the two of you, though, all bets are off

Starts bringing her work into the parlor, so she can snuggle up to you while she reads proposals or writes to diplomats

She never brings work into the bedroom, though - that’s for unadulterated cuddle time

Promises you she will never get sick of being able to sink into your arms after a long day

Muriel

Feels a little bad that he’s not so used to physical affection

He’s getting better about it, but he still has to be eased in, and when he’s tired or upset, he prefers not to be touched

Does his best to let you know when his spoons are low so you don’t swoop in for a hug, because he feels bad for flinching or telling you no

And even if he can’t handle a full-on snuggle, he’ll put a hand on your arm, or get as close as he can, whatever he can manage in that moment

Makes a conscious effort to initiate cuddles when he’s up for it, so it doesn’t feel one-sided

Promises he sleeps better cuddled up to you, no matter what

Portia

She seems like she’d be all cuddles, all the time, but she’s very time-and-place about it, in fact

Loves cuddling in the blanket fort, but if she’s “in the zone” working, trying to get your arms around her is like nailing water to a tree

She’ll return a quick peck on the cheek, but even if you do catch her, you can tell she wants to keep moving

If you give her a little heads-up, though, she’ll make the time - let her know you’re feeling cuddly, and she’ll wrap up whatever she’s working on ASAP to let you move in

When she’s done for the day, she loves nothing more than letting her hair down and lying on top of you like a freckly little marshmallow (usually while groaning)

Pet her, kiss her, play with her hair however you like while she chatters about her day

Lucio

Someone has thoroughly met his match

He’s a very physical person (affectionate words aren’t exactly his strong suit), but can’t stand to be called clingy

But if you’re not going to hold back, neither is he

From falling asleep in a tangled-up heap to catching you in the hallway for a kiss on the hand (that turns into canoodling against the wall), neither one of you is wanting for cuddle time

Want to sit in his lap during meetings, share a seat at mealtimes, snuggle up together in your box during a night at the theater? He certainly won’t stop you

And the looks you get don’t bother him, either - since when has Lucio not wanted people to look at him?

☕ Ko-Fi | My AO3 ☕ 

[muddyhippy]

Amazing artwork of Ivy and Lily done by @smolghostings​ who is entirely awesome and melted my heart with all her Lily and the Mechs fanart! 

Night Terrors, Chapter 6 : Pageturner

Chapter on AO3 Here

New chapter! Sorry it’s taken a while everyone but the new chapter featuring Ivy is now up! 

                                                  Pageturner

Lily made her way carefully towards the Library. It was very late but she knew Ivy would still be up. Ivy was always up. Except when they had all slept together on her first night. That had been really nice. Lily hoped they’d have another big sleepy cuddle soon, it was where she felt safest. Even safer than when she was in Jonny’s arms, tucked up against his chest, listening to him tick. Which was very, very safe in her opinion.

 She didn’t want to bother Jonny. Not tonight.  This was something she needed to do herself. She was a big girl after all. She was eight whole years old and she had to know the ending of the story. She’d dreamt about it and it had ended very badly so now she needed to know the truth of it.

 She knocked carefully on the side of the open door, “Ivy? Ivy are you there?”

Lily waited a few moments before trying again, “Ivy?” She called, a little louder.

 “Yes?” A familiar voice answered from somewhere out of sight.

 Relief flooded Lily, “Can I come in please?”

 “Yes.”

 Lily stepped in very carefully looking around for the archivist. “Ivy?”

 The archivist appeared from the depths of one of the stacks, assessing the nervous-looking little girl in one glance, “Given the current ship’s time and the fact that you are here unaccompanied you have had a nightmare and you cannot find Jonny?” Ivy tried to keep the mild annoyance from her voice, nightmare duty was very much Jonny’s territory and she had been in the midst of some long overdue re-stacking.

 Lily sniffed, rubbing her sleeve across her face making her look even younger, her other hand clutching something grey and fuzzy Ivy couldn’t quite make out.  

 “Had a nightmare, didn’t look for Jonny, wanted you.”

 That made Ivy pause, brusque response dying on her lips, there was a 74% likelihood that Ivy would be the 8th choice for comfort, only ahead of Ashes given the quartermaster’s well documented dislike of physical contact.

 “Why?”

 “Had a nightmare about the story I’m reading, dreamt it had a very bad ending. Wanted to make sure it wasn’t true.”

 Ivy considered, Lily’s bright liquid eyes were full of unshed tears and felt herself soften in sympathy. She knew that concern, usually the concern of whether the book was going to have a satisfying ending or not rather than the obvious ‘happy’ one Lily was clearly hoping for but it was the same principle. And it was deeply pleasing to see the child so invested in a book Ivy had provided.

 Ivy found she enjoyed offering choices to the child, the archivist had quickly read all the English language books (Ivy was determined to get her confident in English before fully embarking on a new language since that was what Lily currently spoke and understood and she didn’t want to overwhelm her which too much information. Ivy had had several information overloads over the centuries and it had taken several of her crewmates to help calm her down and console her) deemed suitable for a young audience by the authors in her vast collection and had begun a list that detailed all the books that seemed in keeping with the child’s interests, both the emergant ones and the ones she was now getting comfortable enough to voice. Ivy had pulled out as many English language books she had on geology, with a specificity on minerals and gemstones, Lily’s eyes had lit up at the sight of so many crystals, apparently she didn’t know that they could be so many different colours.  

 The interests she was discovering with the crew was a pleasure to source and support, she was one of the few members of the crew who actively sought knowledge and stories out from the library, with a few notable exceptions in recent months. The other’s reading habits not-withstanding, the archivist had added more and more books to Lily’s shelves (that had needed extra levels installing) covering a range of topics, from tea party traditions, recipes from several worlds, horse riding and non-lethal junior science to guns, galaxies and gobstoppers. Ivy liked being able to use her collection for the benefit of the crew and did so to inform them on upcoming planetary visits if she had something that covered them or hunted down more star charts and galaxy guides for the terminally curious but this was something else.

 Ivy had never had the opportunity to nurture a young mind before, one with no prejudice or preconceptions other than her general sense of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ and that if it was a fictional story she wanted there to be a happy ending. Which honestly was reasonable given how painfully aware Lily was that happy-ever-afters were not a common thing.  

 As it was, Ivy knew the ending of the story Lily was reading, she could just tell her and send her back to bed but it seemed hardly fair to rob her of the experience of discovering it herself. These things, reading a story for the first time was a journey, something to be experienced, sometimes endured but always enjoyed in the end if the writing was compelling enough and made you care enough about the outcome.

 Lily certainly cared enough.

 Lily cared.

 It was her default setting.

 It was something Ivy appreciated even if she wasn’t entirely sure how to engage with it. She and Lily often sat together for at least an hour a day reading, Ivy helping her with new words she didn’t understand and having her say them aloud until she got the hang of how the word felt in her mouth, saying it clearly and in context.

 Ivy was rather proud how much Lily’s vocabulary had increased over the past three and a half months, the archivist hadn’t thought much to teaching, leaving the others to come and go in their reading habits without comment or judgement so long as the books were put back exactly where they belonged and in the same condition when they were done. And if she placed a few specific books on specific easy-to-reach shelves where certain adults would know where to look when they came into the library in the middle of the night looking shaken and sleep-ruffled, well that was neither here or there.

 Ivy enjoyed watching Lily enjoy reading her stories, the child had made her way through an impressive chunk of Ivy’s collection so far and the archivist had been actively seeking more child-appropriate content for Lily on each new planet they visited in order to ensure she never ran out of books for Lily to absorb, it was an excellent new strand to her acquisition quest, after all, she’d never made as diligent an effort to collect children’s stories before, there had been no real point. And if she had developed the practice of reading each book before putting it on to Lily’s shelves well, she was just being a responsible librarian.

 Ivy nodded to the little girl, “Alright then, you know where it is, go and get it and find your answer, I’ll be here if you need me.”

 Lily took a step forward towards Ivy then stopped herself, “Thank you Ivy.”

 Lily scurried to fetch her book and settle on her usual cushion.

 That was odd, Lily was often keen for physical affection, she’d developed a specific sign of affection for Ivy which the archivist appreciated since she struggled to acquiesce easily to the exuberant affection Lily asked for and got from the others but Lily’d never paused like that before.

 The archivist considered, allowing a raft of calculations to wash over her, hmm… there was an 83% chance Lily felt uncomfortable about coming to library past her bedtime since that was something that had seemed pretty sacred to her and the ensuing ritual she and Jonny had developed of Lily saying goodnight to everyone she could see, taking his hand and having him tell her a story until she fell asleep, that, for Lily was the end of one day. Ivy had wondered if the distinction between night and day for Lily was important in accepting when she was ‘safe’ and when she had to be on guard from her nightmares. It was also possible with a 61% likelihood that Lily felt that she should not seek comfort when she was clearly trying to manage her reaction to this particular nightmare on her own especially given the lack of Jonny in tow. It was also highly likely (87%) Lily was keen to show her maturity in the face of a nightmare when faced with someone whom she did not interact with often when in this particularly vulnerable state.

 That seemed like a foolish endeavour since the whole crew knew just how tactile Lily was after a nightmare, most of them had seen her being comforted by Jonny as he sang to her whilst he carried her around the corridors at least once, the child clinging to him like an especially sticky octokitten. More often Ivy knew Lily sought out the first mate in his room and climbed into his bunk to settle back down to sleep but there were a few nights she screeched Hell Fire or even more rarely, she was too miserable to settle which had Jonny crooning gently to her instead as he walked the corridors, the motion of his movement coupled with the sounds of his heart reassuring her that she was not alone.

 It was so deeply incongruent to see this gentle side of Jonny appear seemingly out of nowhere though it was becoming a common sight which was possibly even stranger.

 Even more incongruently, for some reason the child very much liked the ‘Alice’ sequence.

 The others including herself challenged him on it one night after bedtime since it was hardly one of their friendlier stories, but then again, they didn’t really go in for that sort of thing full stop and he argued it was the first thing he thought to sing when she didn’t want the Rose and Cinders story again that night, he didn’t know the Cadence tale well enough and Hereward was Tim’s song.

 And, he argued, he couldn’t very well sing their stories to her since they’d not actually talked to her about their Mechanisms yet. He had grudgingly admitted he’d panicked when he remembered the ending of Alice halfway through the last section and impulsively added a ‘and they all lived happily ever after’ in desperation. Thankfully, she’d just accepted it, possibly because she was just exhausted but for whatever reason, she liked it, especially Hatter and Hare.

 Tim and Brian had been rather pleased about that, both thoroughly enjoying surprising her with that one dinner time as she started to set the table, breaking out into the song, dancing with each other and then with Lily waltzing around the mess table as the Toy Soldier poured tea for everyone utterly thrilled that everyone present wanted a cup. All three of them danced with it in turn as well making its smile somehow even wider.

 Aurora had recorded it all and shown the others after Lily had fizzed with excitement telling the rest of the crew when they came to sit down for dinner. It had been one of the honestly most wholesome things Ivy thought she’d ever witnessed. And she’d seen a lot. Both physically and within the myriad of stories she read.

 Ivy considered, she wondered if she was supposed to go and check on the child since she’d shown up obviously upset after a very specific nightmare but Ivy had no idea what she was supposed to do in comforting Lily. Ivy was not a singer, not like most of her crewmates, her music was enough to share but maybe Lily needed more? It was highly likely (68% in fact) that her statement about not wanting Jonny but in fact Ivy, was actually a cover. Not enough of a cover to mask the fact that despite Lily wanting to be seen as an adult that could solve her own problems she was very much a child still, a child who was vulnerable and upset and needed comforting post-nightmare. Something Ivy felt woefully unprepared to tackle.

 She was already reaching for her communicator when a wobbly voice called out,

 “Ivy?”

 “Yes?”

 Little feet pattered through the stacks and appeared looking even blotchier-faced.

 “Are you alright?” enquired a very unsure Archivist.

 Ivy knew the ending, the ending that was most assuredly happy. It was happy and good and satisfying for young readers and adults if they liked satisfying, comfortable endings. If Lily had read the ending already it should not have provoked this response. Also it was highly unlikely Lily could have reached the ending in the time that had elapsed. There were still seven chapters to go and Lily had an average reading speed of a page every 52 seconds (Something Ivy was very proud of, Lily’s reading speed had increased by 14 seconds since joining them and her confidence in reading aloud had doubled).

 With rising panic her fingers inched back for the communicator

 Lily held up her right hand, fingers splayed.

 Ivy responded immediately, stepping forwards carefully, gently pressing each fingertip to Lily’s.

 Ivy was honestly surprised the child had remembered in her upset.

 It was something she did with Ivy and only Ivy when she came to read but that was always when the little girl was happy and excited.

 Lily had asked her if she could give Ivy a ‘finger hug’ the second time she ever came to visit the library, three days after she joined the crew.

 That had taken the archivist by surprise.

 “A finger hug?” Questioned Ivy. She quickly wracked her memory files to pull up some form of record or reference to such a thing and came up empty.

 “Yes.” Lily held up her little hand fingers and thumb splayed wide, “we touch our fingers together and it means we’re hugging.”

 “Why?”

 “Because you don’t really like hugs and I want to hug you because I think you’re really nice and kind to let me come into the library and read real books even though they’re very special but I don’t want to make you feel bad by hugging you because that’s not nice or kind to do so if you like this instead then I can hug you without making you feel, um, icky.” Lily trailed off in the face of Ivy’s intense gaze.

 Lily’s words, if phrased a little childishly, were deeply heart-felt.

 Ivy felt herself bluescreen.

 She hadn’t said a word to Lily about not being overly comfortably or confident with physical affection, Jonny had prompted Lily to ask for permission to hold her hand but that was it. She filed that away for future reference on how perceptive Lily was. The others should be made aware of this since they liked to think they were subtle.

 Then again, it could be entertaining to watch them get caught out by a tiny observer.

 Thing was, it was an observation that was made and then used to inform a kind action.

 That was not a very common activity on board the Aurora. Or at least, not an activity anyone would ever own up to.

 Ivy felt herself melt a little, it was such a simple consideration but a very welcome one. Even in the three days Lily had been on board, Lily had shown an emotional maturity that was far beyond her years, the child listened and watched the crew carefully, obviously trying to pick up on what was acceptable behaviour and responses.

 Partly this seemed to be a survival instinct, Lily could, after all, be classed as prey amongst a den of predators.

 Ivy had shuddered internally at that comparison, it felt wrong, even though her crewmates were epitome of dangerous they’d all made a concerted effort to be gentle with Lily, maybe more like a cub in a den of predators? That felt oddly more appropriate despite the notion of any of the Mechanisms actually having children of their own was not only a statistical impossibility from a physical perspective but one so far-removed from the general outlooks of them all to be deemed laughable.

 And yet.

 The behaviours exhibited so far by Jonny, Marius, Brian and more surprisingly Raphaella and Ashes (albeit from a distance) seemed to hint if not possessing buried parental instincts at least a sense of affinity and empathy. The others had yet to be truly tested however there was at least a 79% chance Tim would also begin to display elder sibling behaviours if not a full paternal instinct. It was fascinating to see.

 The Toy Soldier was very pleased to have a new friend. Lily had already been seen happily playing with it in the three days she’d been on board, they’d raced past the library door the previous, day, a piping little voice shouting ‘Tig!’ triumphantly, also given how much TS loved the crew it was likely that affection would carry over to Lily as well gifting the child with a friendship that would be unbreakable. Nastya had not been around enough to observe but Ivy suspected the engineer was also harbouring an affinity with the child as well, both of them having survived (relatively speaking in Nastya’s case) the murder of her family and the destruction of all she knew.

 And then there was herself.

 Ivy could and was in the process of reading any and all child-rearing health books she had in her library to help out Raphaella’s research. Ivy had no memories of her own childhood, be they wants, needs or behaviours. She was 89% sure she had her passion for reading and acquiring knowledge from an extremely early age but she had not real framework to apply from her own experiences.

 Ivy tried not to think about all the lost memory data of hers, and normally she could and did avoid it but there had been so much chatter surrounding the subject of reminiscence, almost all of them, even Nastya, had offered tidbits of their own long-unthought of childhood. She and Brian had taken silent solace in one another, both listening politely for a while before quietly leaving for the bridge together to enjoy one another’s companionable peace.

 She focused on learning the facts as she always did. It helped to ground her in the here and now and real knowledge of the universe. She knew the vitamins and minerals required for a human child to grow well, the quantities and the various sources they could be obtained from. Ivy knew to the minute the amount of sleep needed for a child Lily’s age and that routine was apparently good for them. It especially seemed it was important to avoid Lily being allowed to become something called ‘overtired’ when small children apparently turn into some sort of armed grenade and the explosions had a myriad of options of being tearful, rage-filled or both.

 Ivy wasn’t sure how the others would handle a small child that detonated like that. Then again, the first night she was with them was enough of a shock when she burst into hysterical tears over Tim and Marius being shot. That, that had been unexpected in how the others had reacted. There was a 47% chance one of them would shoot her on instinct on sheer noise alone since her cries had sounded like some sort of terrible warning siren, however, when she had appeared wailing on Jonny’s hip that chance had dropped to 7%.

 Ivy had actually been surprised at the fury on the first mate’s face, she hadn’t seen him that angry since Tim had been mechanised and Carmilla had had her ‘accident’ shortly thereafter.

 She had been more surprised initially at the child’s distress at Tim and Marius’ deaths, then had to remind herself that the likelihood of the child having significant trauma responses to witnessing violence were 99.9% coupled with the fact that seeing people die in her experience was a decidedly permanent event. Her ship had certainly been an event.

 Ivy was not anywhere near as happy in conflict and gunfire as her crewmates but she was no shrinking violet, more like a knowing foxglove.  She’d seen and perpetrated her share of horrible murder and destruction but there was something about Lily’s ship, something raw, the murder in her ship was gleeful even beyond Jonny’s most manic rampages. And Lily had been surviving in the aftermath for three full weeks.

 It didn’t sit right with Ivy, it was something she was researching into since Jonny had spoken to them all about Lily’s desire for revenge when she was of age. She would find those who had wreaked havoc through Lily’s people.

 So yes, Lily’s upset was more than a little understandable in hindsight. What had caught Ivy completely off guard had been that the child had sought comfort from all of them, she had assumed Jonny would remain the primary form of comfort eschewing all others with Raphaella taking a distant second place due the science officer wrangling the child into the shower. That too had been unexpected, Ivy would have thought that she was purely motivated by opportunity to make closer observations for her research which was 83% correct but the look on her face when she returned with Lily and Jonny to the mess there had been a softness on her face that had repeated after the incident with Tim and Marius.

 Lily had wanted comfort from them all and everyone, everyone had complied. She had calculated the chances being 3% at the most. But everyone, even Nastya, even herself had, at the very least, held the distraught child.

 Raphaella had handed her the child and she hadn’t known what to do with her but it seemed to be enough, Lily did most of the work. It had been strange having a living, breathing creature in her arms that wasn’t an octokitten, not unpleasant per se but something she was not terribly confident or comfortable with.

 And Lily had realised within three days.

 And presented the ‘fingertip hug’ option.

 An option that Ivy took every time the child came to visit.

 Ivy had begun to enjoy the child’s company over the course of the three and half months she had been with them. She came every day without fail, knocking politely and waiting to be invited inside before offering her usual greeting, finding her book and settling down on what rapidly became ‘her’ cushion. She’d beamed when Ivy gave her a bookmark after the archivist ascertained the child tried to remember the page she’d finished on and didn’t always succeed.

 Every so often she would approach Ivy to ask for help with a word and its meaning. Initially Ivy had resented the interruptions to her own reading but she always answered, the child wanted knowledge after all. After a while she began to appreciate the child’s joy at each explanation, thrilled to be learning something new. Ivy realised Lily wasn’t asking to be a bother unlike the rest of her crewmates most of the time, she was asking because she genuinely wanted to learn and appreciated Ivy taking the time to tell her.

 After three weeks of observed behaviour there was an 84% chance Lily had not had overtly positive experiences with adults outside of her own parents. Nothing particularly negative but the way she responded to anyone taking time to tell her anything or answering a question she asked it was clear this did not happen often nor did she expect them to engage with her as often (read: every time she asked) as they did.

 Ivy resolved to be as encouraging as she could be on Lily’s search for stories and knowledge. She found her books, began to listen to the child read aloud and always helped with new or difficult words.

 Lily never cuddled up to her the way she did Jonny, Brian, Marius, TS or Raphaella or the way she started to after the whole hair brushing incident with Tim. But still. She would bring her pillow near to where Ivy was reading to practice her own literacy skills.

 Right now though she was faced with a very distraught looking Lily doing the fingertip hug clearly about to disintegrate.

 “What’s the matter?”

 “I, I want to read the story but I’m scared I’ll get tears on it by accident, because, because they, they keep escaping and I don’t want to ruin your book but I want to know the answer!”

 At this point Lily did dissolve in tears.

 Ivy realised that there was a 37% chance she’d never been quite as consciously terrified as she was presented with a sobbing little girl.

 “Er, would you like a hug?”

 Lily sobbed and tried to swallow, rubbing a sleeve across her streaming eyes, “Are, are you sure?” she wept out.

 “No, but you’re clearly deeply unhappy and there is an 87% chance a hug will make you feel better and I would like to help make you feel better.”

 Lily gave her the wobbliest smile Ivy had ever seen then carefully approached the archivist, waiting for Ivy’s arms to wrap around her before sinking into the safety of warm, living adult.

 Ivy felt the child melt into her.

 There was an unexpected warmth that bloomed in her chest. There was an 92% likelihood she was experiencing a sense of familial bonding, she quickly compared it to how she felt when working in collaboration with Raphaella on an experiment or sitting with Brian in companionable quiet on the bridge or even taking part in a satisfactory music practice with the whole crew. The feeling was remarkably similar.

 That was, surprising but encouraging all the same.

 She felt like she might not end up being too poor a substitute for the first mate.

 She still wasn’t sure how Jonny managed this so easily though.

 It was a common enough if still strange sight to see Lily limpeted to Jonny, clinging on tightly but he held her as if he’d always been doing that, as if his arms were made to hold her, like Lily was made to fit perfectly into his side. There were many, many, many things Ivy could and did criticise Jonny for but he’d taken to this with an aplomb none of them had anticipated. Even within those first few minutes Ivy could not have predicted Jonny taking hold of the child when she ran at him. Ivy had braced to witness a child die due to long-hone instincts wherein, with a chance of less than 1% Jonny hadn’t shot her, too shocked initially it seemed then some sort of buried sense of paternity reared its head from the depths. It has been fascinating to watch from a distance.

 Now Ivy was experiencing something like that without the presence and dare she admit it, safety of her crewmates to take point on the interaction.

 Ivy had never felt overtly comfortable around anyone since she woke up on Aurora head full of facts yet empty of memories. She found she worried often of not having the ‘right’ reactions due to her positronic brain and so limited the factors that would expose her to those situations. Books were safer, she knew what they expected from and in return there was a comforting predictability in learning.  

 There was very little predictable about Lily.

 Well that wasn’t entirely fair. The child was kind and loving and concerned with making sure everyone felt included in whatever was happening (that spoke volumes about the child’s existing experiences with her own shipmates but that was hardly the point at present). She wanted positive attention and was thrilled to get it, she liked to hug and be physically reassured by the others after a scare or when she was being praised.

 Lily, if you broke her down to her fundamentals, was not too hard to comprehend.

 She wanted to be loved.

 The hard part came in that the Mechanisms did not deal readily in love. None would claim to have any real solid experience, maybe Nastya and Tim but it wasn’t the same sort of familial love. Jonny was not-so-secretly a romantic at heart (though he’d shoot you if you pointed it out) but again it wasn’t the same. They were trying their best but none of them really came from loving families, those that could remember at least.  

 They were running of half-forgotten instincts that all adults of a species apparently carried coded into their beings from the earliest dawn of sentience.

 ‘Protect the young.’

 Ivy, now with a sobbing Lily attached to her, felt what must be that same drive begin to stir.

 A hesitant hand raised to rub carefully up and down Lily’s back.

 Lily cuddled closer.

 Well that must be the right approach.

 Ivy continued to run her hand up and down Lily’s small back as the child cried into the archivist’s neck. After a while the tears began to slow.

 “M’sorry.”

 “What for?”

 “For making you hug me and getting your collar all soggy.”

 Well that wouldn’t do at all. Ivy might not be a fan of overt physical contact but no one made her do anything she didn’t want to.

 She pulled Lily off her enough to face her, the child’s huge blue eyes looking like glowing lagoons, swimming with spilling tears.

 “Now listen to me Lily, no one makes me do anything I don’t want to do, not when it comes to something like this. I am comforting you because I want to and you want me to. No one can make you hug or even touch someone if you don’t want to. The other person has to want it too. I am hugging you because you want me to and I want to help you. Understand me?”

 “Y”-she hiccupped-“es.”

 “Good.” Ivy paused, not sure where to go from there. She sent out a desperate burst of data requests trying to grasp any suggestions that might help.

 The image of Lily sitting on Jonny’s lap at the mess table when she first joined them. Lily sat on Brian’s lap on the bridge asking him hundreds of questions about music and stars. Lily perched on Raphaella’s lap frowning in concentration as she practices plaiting her long golden waves. Lily tucked up on Marius’ lap between his violin and bow arm, humming along with the tunes he played. Lily settled on Tim’s lap smiling as the gunner carefully brushed her wild mop of tangles smooth.

 Each time Lily was settled and safe and happy.

 “Would, would you like to sit on my lap and I’ll read the rest of the story to you? That way we won’t risk you getting the book damp.”

 Lily’s face lit up in a blinding smile.

 Clearly that was the right thing to offer.

 “Alright then, let’s go get the book.”

 Ivy took Lily’s hand because that was also clearly the thing to do in this situation, she’d seen Lily hold hands with the others when heading somewhere together and the child had asked to hold her hand the first time she came to the library. That was bound to help comfort her.

 Lily clung to her hand like a lifeline.

 Ivy took in the sight of the neat spot Lily usually occupied, cushions in a tidy pile and her book in its proper place on the shelf.

 Even upset she’d respected the books.

 Ivy felt her chest flood with warmth.

 “Alright then,” she picked up the title in question, settled comfortably in the nest of pillows that had accumulated then gestured to Lily, “come on Liliput, get comfortable.”

 Lily stared at her.

 Ivy stared right back, shocked at the name that had slipped from her so easily.

 “What does that mean?”

 “It’s the name of a town where people live whom Gulliver visits during his travels, they’re very small but kind to him.”

 “Who’s Gulliver?”

 “Lemuel Gulliver is the protagonist of Jonathan Swift’s adventure story ‘Gulliver’s Travels’ he’s an explorer who sails across the Oceans of Earth—”

 “That’s Tim’s home planet isn’t it?”

 “Yes.”

 “Did Tim meet him?”

 Ivy smiled at the question. “No, Gulliver wasn’t a real person, his story is also set roughly 500 years before Tim’s time.”

 Lily considered, Ivy could see the numbers totting up in the child’s mind.

 “That’s a lot.” she offered finally.

 “Yes it is.”

 “So he was a made up adventurer?”

 “And explorer. He sailed to different islands to meet different civilisations.”

 “Ooh. Did he not have a spaceship?”

 “No this story was set before spaceships had been invented.”

 “Oh. A VERY long, long ago then?”

 “Yes.”

 “Can I read it next?”

 “Yes, I can find you a copy.”

 Lily sniffed. “Thank you, you’re the best.” Declared Lily earnestly.

 Ivy smiled again, honestly touched by the sincerity.

 “Thank you. Now do you want to sit down and finish this story?”

 “Yes please!”

 Lily needed no more encouragement, she settled into Ivy’s lap as though she’d always been there, leaning against Ivy’s chest letting out a satisfied sigh. Ivy smelled of paper, of warm leather and the comfort of stories to be told. It was rare she got this close to Ivy, Lily savoured it as much as she could, it was very different to the rest of them, to Jonny or Marius or Raphaella but it was just as nice, just as a part of her sense of safety as every other scent of them was.

 Paper, wood, resin, wild flowers, leather, cordite, oil, wool, resin, tea, smoke, spice and whiskey

 It was home.

 Ivy’s breath caught, she wasn’t sure how she expected it to feel having Lily in her lap, uncomfortable? Awkward? Something that she’d have to endure?

 What she wasn’t expecting was a strange sense of satisfaction. There was a warmth that took root in her, the impression that what she was doing was good and right and helping.

 Ivy decided to calculate the average improvements Lily had made to the crew’s individual well beings later when she could consider all the data she’d observed and listened to. Right now though, she had a story to read.

 Ivy read out the voices of the characters as she heard them in her own head when she’d read the story the first time herself much to Lily’s apparent delight. Encouraged she continued adding the dramatic emphasis drawing thrilled but ever-sleepier responses from Lily until the child fell asleep three chapters from the end.

 Ivy smiled with the contentment of a job well done. She had done it. Lily had come to her wanting help and she’d been able to provide that well enough that the child had gone back to sleep, happy and obviously feeling secure.

Children tended to only sleep on people they trusted. She’d read it in one of the few human child rearing books she’d found.

 The archivist was deeply proud of herself.

 And now Lily was asleep she could take a closer look at the fluffy thing that the little girl was clutching as she listened.

 An emerald or copper oxidised geode of some kind rendered in a fluffy fabric with embroidered eyes.

 Ivy felt another smile slowly bloom across her face as she realised what it was.

 Jonny.

 So that was what he’d been up to.

 She’d caught him trying to sneak out of the library a few times two months, three weeks and five, four and two days ago, only refraining from blowing his head off because of the likelihood if she did it would be a night Lily needed comforting and she did not want to have to deal with the emotional fallout that mess would wrought.

 She’d let him go once he proved he wasn’t trying to smuggle books out with him and upon investigation of her shelves the books he’d been looking at (not quite put back exactly where they belonged but he’d apparently tried) focused minerals and geology, she’d wondered want on earth he’d been up to since seeking knowledge, or reading in general was not his go-to activity.

 This was apparently it.

 Making an accurate depiction of a geode to render in fluff as a comfort toy for an orphaned little girl. Ivy knew Lily was interested in stones, she’d brought back half the lakeshore from their first planet visit. Several of them kept appearing around Aurora with googly or painted on eyes and smiley faces. One of the smaller, lighter, flatter ones had found their way into Brian’s hat band for a while.

 But this? Taking an active interest and trying to make something accordingly? Jonny was apparently full of surprises. It was a side of him Ivy had suspected existed based on her centuries of observation but it was something he guarded fiercely as though having a soft side was some sort of shameful secret. Same went for the rest of the crew. Though, yet again, the rest of the crew also made a point not to be known for their abundance of gentleness or thoughtfulness. Except Brian and TS, (and Marius but 50% of the time he was trying to get a rise of people as well).

 Until recently.

 Until Lily.

 Whose presence apparently was tacit permission to be kinder, not just with her because that was expected, she was a child, an innocent child they’d ended up responsible for and whilst they didn’t really know what they were doing they weren’t actual monsters in this regard, they had at a passing acquaintance with decency sometimes so they were trying to look after her as ‘properly’ as they could.

 And they all did look out for each other too, always undercover of insult or secrecy-no one would ever admit to doing something nice after all but now? Well, their behaviour around Lily was clearly affecting their day-to-day interactions. Murder had been reduced to a minimum especially during ‘daylight’ hours and they’d found other, more constructive ways to harness their energies, non-lethal pranks were happening far more regularly and were being met with amused annoyance rather than murderous rage. Not to mention they’d managed to put the Verdant Hood story cycle together in record time, she was rather looking forward to performing that one. It was amazing how much more practice you could manage when you didn’t have to wait for your lead singer to regrow his bullet-punctured lungs or your string/percussion/piano players to re-grow shot-off fingers.

 Ivy reflected on the status of the crew; there was a contentment that was slowly becoming apparent that had been lacking for several centuries, it was unexpected but pleasant all the same. She was going to enjoy analysing her calculations and collecting more data from the regular interactions she’d been taking part in. Breakfast and Dinner especially as sit down meals weren’t uncommon before Lily but they were now a daily occurrence, Ivy tried to remember to attend at least one meal per day, her crewmates could be intolerably loud a lot of the time but it was pleasant to talk to them sometimes.

 And she enjoyed the growing sense of camaraderie rather than simple tolerance.

 Thinking of.

 She should probably contact Jonny.

 Lily, whilst the weight of her on Ivy’s lap was comforting in a way the archivist had not been expecting it was not fair to allow the child to sleep in this position all night. The books on child growth encouraged lots of sleep but she doubted they meant in laps of immortal space pirates.

 That hadn’t stopped Lily in the slightest but it still wasn’t good for her.

 Ivy typed a message on her communicator, not wanting to risk waking the child.

 ‘Jonny, Lily is in the library with me. Please come and collect.-Ivy’

 There wasn’t much else she could do but wait, idly glancing back through her data files to check her inventory of books suitable for Lily and adding the note that she wanted to read Gulliver’s Travellers next. She wondered if Tim had read the book as a boy since he’d started availing himself of her collection several months ago upon learning she had some of his childhood favourites.

 Twenty-nine minutes later a sleep-drunk, bleary-eyed Jonny came stumbling into the library.

 Ivy had to force herself not to startle.

 She’d never seen him look so thoroughly, relaxedly, rumpled.

 She’d seen him drunk to incoherence and passing out mid-sentence. She’d seen him sleep-deprived, strung-out furious and exhausted to the point he just shut down and dropped where he stood (usually because he’d been refusing to sleep due to the nightmares he definitely didn’t experience) whenever that happened, rare as it was, Brian usually picked him up and carried him off to dump the first mate into bed.

 (Although, knowing Brian it was more like he tucked him in carefully but neither of them would ever admit it)

 She’d seen him nursing the sire of all hangovers across the multiverse, losing the ability to speak any recognised language of which he, like the rest of them, actually knew several.

 But, she realised with a start, she’d never seen him just honestly sleepy, ‘Woken-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night-working-on-about-20%-operating-capacity-I-need-to-do-something-but-I-am-on-autopilot’ sleepy.

 He wasn’t dressed for any kind of engagement either. No gun, nor holster, not even a belt. Make up cleaned off his face wearing just a plain dark t-shirt, fabric greyed and worn with age and black drawstring trousers.

 Pyjamas.

 Jonny D’Ville was wearing honest-to-goodness to pyjamas.

 He made his way over to Lily’s corner apparently instinctively, nodded at Ivy with a grateful half-smile, his face, already unguarded softened even more when he took in the sight of Lily, curled up against Ivy, one hand holding on to her waistcoat the other clinging to Gemini who was smushed up against her own chest.

 Ivy found herself not daring to breathe whilst she watched to retrieval take place.

 He scooped up the sleeping child with a practiced ease, Lily immediately settling against him like she lived there, barely even stirring.

 Jonny’s hand lingered on Ivy’s a moment, squeezing it gently, “’anks f’lookin’after her.” before wrapping his arms more securely around Lily, taking his leave back towards his bunk.

 Ivy’s stare followed the two of them long after they’d left her Library.

 Well.

 That. That was one of the most unexpected sights she had witnessed on board.

She’d never witnessed Jonny appear so utterly vulnerable, without his usual brashness, his loud swaggering and even louder gunshots Jonny was- Jonny was young realised Ivy, probably younger than her when he was mechanised. She did some swift calculations and didn’t like her conclusions.

 Well that made an uncomfortable amount of sense. Trying to seem bigger and badder than everyone else was probably a learned trait now she thought about it, forever twenty? That’s quite difficult to make people listen to you off the bat, even if you’ve got centuries or millennia under your many belts.

 That Jonny was actually comfortable enough to appear like that offered two explanations, one he was starting to actually relax enough around people to allow his softer side more public outings and two, he was just so exhausted by all the nightmare duty he’d been pulling along with having to process actual emotions he was simply spent beyond all care or consideration.

 It was probably a mix of both.

 Ivy allowed herself a pleased smile, partially because she was glad the first mate was clearly getting something positive out of this caretaker role he’d accidentally stepped into three and a half months ago and partially because she had excellent blackmail material to use to get first editions from the next twenty planets they visited.

 She sighed, she was enjoying this mellowing of her crewmates interactions, though not enough to be entirely alienating but just enough to take some of the edges off, it was nice knowing that a request for people to please shut the fuck up for five minutes was less likely to earn you a bullet to the head. There was a rare peace that was becoming a little more common and helped draw her out of the library a little more regularly and that was something she felt she could live with.

 The chances of a child being a uniting factor for group cohesion and to reduce the levels of ship-destructive violence would have been at a 0.001% if you’ve asked Ivy four months ago but now? Whilst she absolutely could not have predicted it she was very glad Jonny had been too shocked to react with violence back on Lily’s ship, the archivist found she quite liked having another bibliophile on board, it might be what it would have been like to have had a younger sibling. Ivy paused, considering. That fit. Having a younger person to encourage and help shape, not a parent, certainly not, but possibly another familial bond?

 Quite possibly.

 92% in fact.

[presumenothing]

FICTOBER 2020 – PROMPTS #01 TO #05 – WTNV/FMA AU – GEN, NO WARNINGS

📻 PREVIOUSLY ON: episode one – pilot

.

“NO, COME BACK, said the spider to the fly, but we all know how the rest of that story goes.

“Welcome to Resembool.”

“TODAY, THERE IS THIS: a story about someone.

“This information is less helpful than you might think. All stories are about someone, in the singular or plural or uncountable. It’s what makes them stories, instead of disparate collections of facts and events loosely coiled about some narrative anchor.”

“HERE, THEN, are the particular someones this story concerns itself with – a man who is not large, and a man who is not small.

“Of course, this is only one way of describing them, and not even the one most people might use. Truth is not often equivalent to relevance, but for the purposes of this story it is close enough anyway.

“The man who is not large sits at a desk with a phone. The scene is not much different to anyone else sitting at a desk with a phone, and indeed not much different from his usual behaviour at all, except that he is frowning.

“This is, in turn, because his calls are not getting through.”

“AT THIS MOMENT, the man who is not small arrives. There is very little in common in the way of physical appearance between these two men, save for the possibility that if you ignore everything else about the situation, you might quite understandably think that both of their faces are made for smiling.

“Neither one is smiling now. The man who is not small crouches a little when entering the room, as some people who are not small are wont to do. No luck, sir? he asks.

“No luck, the man who is not large agrees, but not in a way that is frustrated.

“Or rather – it is true that he is frustrated, but that is not the most relevant thing. He taps his fingers, looks to the ceiling, and thinks.”

-

“WE CUT BRIEFLY AWAY from this story to the community classifieds.

“Item: Curtis Butchers is looking to hire an additional staff. The job requires comfort around cleavers and other large knives, but not butchery experience since you will find yourself learning rapidly on the job, and anyway that’s the easy part. What’s the hard part? Wouldn’t you like to know. To apply, head down to the store and challenge one person to arm wrestling. Who you choose will be the first part of your interview. Good luck!

“Item: Ice-cream truck found in the parking lot of Dark Owl Records, vacant but in good condition. If this is yours, contact Rebecca Catalina, owner of Dark Owl Records. If this is not yours, but you are interested, maybe contact her anyway. She has some interesting ideas about a joint venture of sorts.”

“AND FINALLY – item: Base to Phoenix, town square, ten o’clock. That’s… literally all this last sheet of paper says. No clue what that’s about, but doubtless the recipient must have understood the message anyway.

“This has been the community classifieds.”

-

“AND NOW, WE RETURN TO the story at hand.

“…so I figured it was worth a try, the man who is not large is saying to the man who is not small. I have a theory that– never mind, we’ll know if it’s true or not based on how this pans out.

“The man who is not small does not say anything aloud in response to this statement. The contemplative silence is uncharacteristic of him, or at least how people usually perceive him, but then again everything they are doing now is uncharacteristic of how people usually perceive them.”

“PERCEPTION, AS IT HAPPENS, can often be neither relevant nor true.

“He’s going to kill me if this actually goes through, the man who is not large remarks, in a manner all too cavalier for such a comment. Ringing him up just to talk his ear off.

“That didn’t stop you before, the man who is not small observes.

“The man who is not large laughs. It really hasn’t, yeah. But who wouldn’t be happy to hear my dulcet tones? Or, more importantly… the news of my beloved wife and lovely daughter!”

“THE MAN WHO IS NOT SMALL studies the stack of photographs that have been thrust in his face. She really is growing up well, he says, and this impression at least is true if not particularly relevant.

“Although it is very relevant to the man who is not large, judging by the breadth of his grin. You’re a good man, Major. Ever consider having kids yourself?”

-

“LET’S PAUSE HERE AND TAKE A LOOK at traffic.

“There is a woman. We will call her Emma, and I won’t tell you if that is her real name – or more accurately I can’t, for reasons that will soon become clear.

“Emma came to this town just over two years ago, bringing only her daughter with her. Old Woman Pinako, smoking a pipe on her porch near the car lot, would see her arrival and think privately that it seemed more like a fleeing.

“Then she would extinguish her pipe and come forward to offer assistance anyway. They would not form any kind of instant trust, because Old Woman Pinako had been right in her guess, but both are practical women, in the way that you tended to get when you are adjacent to someone who practices alchemy.”

“BUT THAT WAS THE PAST. This is now.

“Now, Emma listens to the radio, hears about the newcomers to town, and worries. Her daughter is older, now, and I will tell you nothing about her either, besides that she has brown braids and blue eyes and a smile like the sun. Sometimes, she plays happily with the dog that welcomes her at Rockbell Automail, like Den reminds her of a family pet she was too young to remember.

“Sometimes, out the corner of Emma’s eye, her daughter bears a different form, like she is not sure what shape she should have when no one is looking. Sometimes it reminds her of the shadowed shapes she saw in the basement lab, the ones her husband only smiled about when she asked, scared and desperate and furious: you did this? Is this also what you’re planning to do to me, to N–

“And so Emma wonders if she got them away from her husband quickly enough, and worries if the newcomers are looking to bring her back. If they suspect what her husband, the alchemist, had been trying to do.”

“THE GENERAL ANSWER TO ALL OF THESE QUESTIONS is that she did what she had to, and will continue to do so. The specific answers are yes, probably no, and no.

“The real answer is that none of these answers will be enough to reassure her, but at least they might help.

“This has been traffic. And now, the weather.”

-

-

“SO THAT’S THE WEATHER FORECAST FOR this coming week, but perhaps there was something you were more keen to hear about. A phone call, perhaps.

“Alas, listeners, I’m afraid I don’t much news for you on that front. You see, there are municipal regulations requiring enclosed booths around payphones to prevent undue weather damage to the equipment. As such, when the phone in the town square rang at ten, and a man stopped to answer it, there was a door he could pull closed behind him.

“However, the regulations say nothing about making the booth proof against eavesdropping, only rain, and so some parts of his words still drifted out anyway, stolen snatches of half a conversation: why did we let you choose the codenames? and yes, Eagle is fine, just itching to shoot something and I’ll report in as soon as I have something to–

“THIS LAST PART is said with forehead pressed against glass, eyes scanning the darkened streets outside, and presumably this is related to the way he stops suddenly, mid-sentence. A hurried murmur, too low to even guess at, and then he is hanging up and stepping out, pushing the door open.

“Who’s there? the man asks, measured in the way of someone who expects to be answered, and the words do not hang suspended in the night for long before a figure steps out of the shadows, hood drawn down around his shoulders.”

“THE MAN’S STANCE changes completely: he stiffens, and his tone is no longer measured when he says Marcoh? What are you doing here?

“It’s Mauro, the Sheriff replies, pulling his customary hood back up, and I could ask you the same thing, Lieutenant Colonel.

“It’s Colonel, actually, the man corrects, but not in a way that is actually meant to be a correction. I told everyone when we first arrived, it’s just for surveillance.

“The Sheriff says nothing, but the silence is loud enough anyway: that answer was unacceptable, try again.

“They’re planning something, and this town is standing in their way. Either it submits, or– you know what they’ll do. I can’t let that happen again, he finishes with an urgency that makes the words sound true, and relevant, and completely opaque to anyone else.”

“BUT THAT IS ONLY TO BE EXPECTED. This has been a story about someone, after all, none of which are us, and just because something is true and relevant to you does not guarantee that you will understand it at all.

“Stay tuned next for the crackling jingle of a blue truck parked by a records store, and the worried weight of a mother tucking her daughter in while wondering what will come tomorrow.

“Good night, Resembool. Good night.”

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📻 TODAY’S PROVERB:

There are many things in this world worth an arm and a leg. If it’s not your own, at least.

(AO3)

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happy inaugural fma day to me, and yes i’m celebrating it by putting out 100% self-indulgent content that is only borderline recognisable as fma because i can!! this also serves as a somewhat nonstandard fill to the first five fictober prompts, one for each section of the episode. i had to contort pretzels around myself putting some of them in, but it was a fun challenge anyway

this episode’s weather (which is arbitrarily decided by which 80s song is currently stuck in my head) was “eye in the sky” by the alan parsons project

characters introduced this episode, for those keeping score at home: maes as the man who is not large (who codenamed roy and riza as phoenix and eagle respectively for this op), alex as the man who is not small, curtis butchers as big rico’s, rebecca catalina as michelle nguyen, ex-mrs tucker pseudonym emma and nina as alive and well because to hell with shou tucker, and last but not least – marcoh as the sheriff of night vale, just because

[shineonyoucrazyyandere]

Reader’s boyfriend breaks up with her and yandere la squadra members take advantage of reader’s vulnerability& make their move.

Yandere! La Squadra w/ fem! s/o whose vulnerable from being broken up with + kisses

Yandere! Formaggio 

 It takes almost all of his effort to keep a straight face when he approaches you. But he does his best to nonchalantly talk to you and “help” you get over that problematic “boyfriend” of yours.

He initiates a lot of physical contact, it’s just measly hand holding and flicking around your hair. While he assists in getting your mind off that former relationship.

Eventually he teases around you, mentions how cute you are very heavy handedly. Overall Formaggio really tries to pull out any sweet talk he can.

Happens to bump into you on the street and will casually put his arm around your waist or shoulder. 

As for Formaggio’s kissing, it’s a deep kiss that he personally drags out enough to leave you breathless. With a bunch of casual playfulness in between. Though if he’s in a specially good mood, he adds his little feet into the mix to make it more interesting.

Yandere! Illuso

Generally speaking he doesn’t hesitate to diss your former partner one bit. You shouldn’t miss them too much, he’s a much better replacement in his eyes. 

He listens to your broken heart, the anguish, everything you have to let out about that partner. He has no concern for them at all, and honestly will probably get rid of them behind your back.

He steers the conversation often away from that topic after awhile, and generally keeps an eye on how you act to certain things. 

Illuso acts all cuddly and keeps himself close to you very often, he really sells the deeply caring part very convincingly. All to wrap you around his little finger.

Once he knows he can go for a kiss towards you, he generally aims for a soft peck at first before going in for more. He’s obsessed with you of course, but he wants to see you beg for him at least a little bit

Yandere! Pesci

He’s very quick about making you feel better and he makes sure you can cry on his shoulder. He sees himself as the only one able to do that for you, since it seems your former partner was incapable of doing that.

Depending on what reason your former partner broke up with you, Pesci might get rather aggravated at the thought of them. So he follows you around to make sure they never step in your direction again.

Hugs and general cuddling are ensured, he makes sure you know you’re loved by someone. Of course he won’t let you get away from these little sessions.

Pesci isn’t quite experienced with kissing, so he might give you a simple peck on the lips or just the cheek. 

Yandere! Prosciutto 

 Likely knows every little thing that makes you upset from your former date from stalking. Of course he desires for you to move past it.

Knows your vulnerable when you are broken up with, so he’s suave as hell trying to charm you in any way possible. He definitely tells you that you’re in a much better position with him.

Holds your cheeks with his hands so you’re directly looking into his blue eyes. Directly gives you encouragement and talks softly.

Flirts hard and passionately, he seems to be keen in complimenting and drives you to rely on him.

His kissing all depends on how you are, he usually lightly teases at first before going all in. 

Guaranteed to kill the partner whenever he has the free time, they’ll be aged quite painfully before they finally die. 

Yandere! Melone

He’s oh so happy that person is out of your life, and he can make a quick entrance into yours. There sudden disappearance is likely his doing. 

It’s just general chatting when he first “bumps” into you. Just so you can adjust to Melone’s presence.

Appeals to your preferences quickly and acts a little promiscuous here and there. He’s very eager to be near you so it takes a lot of restraint on his part. 

Actively engages in activities you enjoy, he’s enthralled with your whole process. Adores everything you do and let’s you know that every moment he can. 

Somehow gets a hold of any pictures you hadn’t gotten rid of your former partner. He simply replaces them with himself as a better alternative in his mind. 

As much as he’s pretty charged with obsession and desire for you. He seems to know your kissing preferences somehow? If you ask he doesn’t usually give a direct answer other than expressing it was a simple guess. 

Yandere! Ghiaccio

He likely already killed the man that dared stomp all over your heart. He would’ve likely done it already since they decided to be with you. But the breakup gives him a definite reason to end them.

Ghiaccio drags you to other places where it’s just the two of you, he might mention his irritation about the former partner, simply telling you should forget about them completely. 

Leans on your shoulder from time to time to catch your attention. It’s usually white album that makes you scoot closer when around other people. 

He meets you at your favorite places you like to go to constantly. Just so you don’t bump into anyone else. There’s a chance he might drag you away from a conversation so you can get used to him.

His kisses are oddly soft compared to his rampage he has sometimes when he rants. A little French kissing might be involved if he gets into it enough.

Yandere! Risotto Nero

 He shows up as soon as he has any indication you’re hurting emotionally. It’s just him giving you silent company at first.

If he can get you to see him in the same light he does you, he’d be very grateful.

Comforts you immediately, but you can feel the way he holds you is a bit tighter then a what a normal grip should be. If you inquire, he tells you it’s nothing to be concerned about. 

Risotto shows up at odd times, and more often than not purposely scares off those you know well. If they suddenly are bleeding from an unknown cut, he’s the likely reason behind it. 

Super gentle while touching you if you’re relaxed on his body. He only starts to threat a bit if try to go your own way after calming down. 

He only wants you to be vulnerable to him and if he has to convince you a bit to do so, he doesn’t really mind.

Yandere! Sorbet and Yandere! Gelato

Sorbet and Gelato immediately despise this person who broke it off with you. But on the other hand they’re both eager to be your replacement.

Sorbet usually is the one to physically hold you to calm you down. While Gelato sees it as a perfect opportunity to explain why you don’t need anyone else. 

Neither of them will stand for rejection, they’ll help you move on. Just don’t expect to jump to another person. Otherwise they might just end up in a ditch.

Gelato and Sorbet take turns holding you between each other, they make it quite obvious when in public. Just to show off you’re already taken.

Sorbet goes for pecks on the lips but generally deepens them when he’s in that kind of mood

Gelato on the other hand is rough and dominant, he won’t bite or anything similar like he does with Sorbet sometimes. But he loves the trail of saliva that slides from your lips to his.