#WHY DID THIS MAKE ME SO DARN HAPPY

[let-him-perish]

Hey.

Daily positive reminder to drink water, and remember that I love you platonically.

We’ve only known each other for a while, but we’ve grown rather close. You’re very funny and fun to talk to and I wish we talked more often :>

I’m glad we met, even if it was on the internet, I still had the pleasure of meeting you <3

Take care of yourself.

Love ya! /p

-Kye

[starsanddragonflies]

WHAT

[withahappyrefrain]

Ruin the Friendship- Bob Floyd

Warnings: Best friends to lovers trope, it’s so obvious they love each other they’re stupid, language, filth, some angst (why not?), unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), Bob being pussy drunk.

Summary: The night before Bob leaves for Boot Camp, he's learned no one has gone down on his best friend. He's determined to fix that.

Words: 4.8K

This is for @attapullman's Bob Fucks celebration!

When you've been friends with someone since preschool, you get to know them like the back of your hand. Certain quirks and sayings that no longer surprise you. 

“God, I wish that were me.”

It wasn't the first time Bob heard you say that. Usually there was a cute dog around, or a sushi boat being delivered at a restaurant when you said it. 

But saying it during an oral sex scene in a movie was new. 

It also brought up many questions. 

Questions Bob shouldn't ask, considering he's known you since preschool. Questions Bob couldn't ask right now, because he was too preoccupied looking at you. 

Your eyes were fixated on the screen, focused on the actress withering. Occasionally, they would dart to the other actor who was between the actress’ thighs. Bob noticed the increased rise and fall of your chest, how your front teeth dug into your bottom lip, how when you lean forward, the v-line cut of your shirt showed off the tops of your breasts. The soft glow of the lamps highlighted the beautiful features on your face. 

All things he shouldn’t be noticing about his best friend. But then again, best friends shouldn’t be watching a French film together whose plot line focused on sexual liberation before he went off to Navy boot camp. 

Granted, you and Bob haven’t had a conventional best friend relationship in a while, if at all, considering both sets of parents claimed you two promised to marry each other at the age of four. 

Promises or not, best friends shouldn’t be one another’s first kiss. Or make out practice partners. Or each other’s New Year's kiss when y'all were single. Or spend Valentine's Day together at the local dinner. 

The line between friends and something more was blurry, saved by a comment that ensured the other to think that the feelings that had been brewing weren't reciprocated. 

“You’re a good kisser. Kelsey McCoy is going to think so too.”

“If Tommy Delaine doesn't like you, he's a dumbass.” 

“I’m sure next year you’ll have someone.”

“If I had to spend it with anyone, I want it to be with my best friend.”

“You’re an amazing friend, you know that?”

Why say that if you harbor romantic feelings? Surely, all those kisses and talk of marriage meant nothing to them. 

At least that's what the other thought. 

It's because of this blurry line that Bob doesn't bite his tongue, doesn't throw away the comment to be forgotten. Instead, he speaks up. 

“Been awhile?” 

And because it's Bob, the guy you've known your whole life, the guy you tell everything to, your response rolls off your tongue without a second thought. 

“Try never.” 

It takes Bob a moment to process your words as the way your lips wrap around the beer bottle is far too distracting. But just like processing a car accident, once it registers, your words bring his brain to a screeching halt. 

“Wait, never?” The shrug you give isn’t satisfactory. He grabs the remote to pause the movie, ignoring your cries of protest. 

“Real talk; are you saying that no one has ever gone down on you?” 

You sigh, regretting saying anything in the first place. One would think that after years of friendship, you’d know well enough that once Bob set his mind to something, he wouldn't relent until satisfied. 

You down the remnants of your beer, mentally preparing for this conversation. 

“No Robby. I've never had someone eat me out. Happy now?” Reaching for the remote was all in vain, as he just held it further away from you. 

Darn those long limbs. 

“But you've been with people…..so what did they do?” When you looked at him, there was no malice, just Bob looking genuinely baffled. His gentle blue eyes put you at ease, giving you the comfort to explain. 

“They would touch me,” you motioned to the lower half of your body, “And like finger me. Enough to get me ready, I guess.” 

Bob raised an eyebrow, “You guess?” 

College was supposed to be a time for you to explore, to figure yourself out, to interact with new people. 

And yet, when it came to the relationship aspect, everything had fizzled. You were now going into your junior year having yet to experience a meaningful romantic relationship. 

Did you just have shit luck? Or was it because your mind would wander back to a bespectacled best friend when you were in bed with someone else? 

“So instead of eating you out, which would actually be enjoyable on your end, you're telling me they just stuck their hand down there and hoped they were rubbing your clit? You didn't ever ask them to do something else?” 

Bob didn't have the pristine mouth that parents thought he possessed. You knew, and had known for a while. And yet, hearing him say the phrase your clit in his deep, slightly twangy voice felt different. 

You rubbed your thighs together. 

“Are you shaming the people I've been with or me?” 

Bob closed the difference between you and him on the couch, placing a hand on your bare knee. 

Have his hands always been so big and veiny? 

Fuck, did you have a thing for hands? 

“I'm not shaming you. I’m shaming the people you've been with because well,” he ran a hand up and down the back of his neck, “Well, I enjoy giving….I like doing it. So I guess I'm surprised other people don't?” 

His statement was shocking because everyone else you had been with viewed it as a chore, as something to use every excuse in the book to avoid doing. 

Too tired. Takes too long. Wet enough so what's the point? 

“You…like doing it?” 

The tops of his cheeks reddened, despite a smirk beginning to form, “Yeah. I like giving and I like making them feel good. It's also a confidence booster, being able to make someone fall apart with your mouth.” 

It shouldn't come as a surprise, it was Bob after all. The same Bob who always brought an extra pencil with him to algebra, in case you forgot yours. The same Bob who shared his Dunkaroos because your mom refused to buy them. The same Bob who made his dream of serving his country finally come true after years of hard work. 

He was selfless. But this didn't feel like selflessness. Hearing him talk about giving pleasure, making someone fall apart with his mouth, was different. Even his voice when he said it was different, raspier than usual. 

“Well,” you scooted closer to the edge of the couch, trying to widen the gap so he couldn't feel how hot your body was, “I can't wait ‘til I meet someone who feels the same way.” 

“You don't have to wait.” 

The grip on your beer bottle tightened, the alcohol getting caught in your throat. There's no way he could have just said that, no way he could be implying what you're thinking. 

But when you look at Bob, he was staring back with raised eyebrows and thin lips curled into a little smirk. The same look he’s given you countless times before when he mumbles a smartass comment only your ears were privy to hear. 

You heard me. 

“What-are you…” You stared at him, mouth agape. Bob appeared unphase by it, like he had just offered something totally normal and rational. 

Perhaps it was the three beers he had downed. Perhaps it was the rush of adrenaline kicking in after realizing this was his last chance at making a move before he left. 

“Wouldn't that be like crossing a line?” Your head was racing, alternating between flashbacks of when you kissed Bob and imagining what it would be like to have his mouth on your body. 

“Wouldn't be much different from what we’ve already done.” 

All the air was sucked out of the room by his comment. Because of course he wasn't doing this because he wanted to, because he wanted you. This would be meaningless, just like everything else. If you went through with this, you’d wake up the next day to Bob leaving with nothing changed, still in this seemingly endless limbo. 

Long, nimble fingers hooked themselves under your chin, gently forcing you to look up. 

The look he gave you was unfamiliar. His eyes remained focused on your face, though it seemed like they were searching. 

For what, you couldn't tell. 

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Do you want it to be different?” 

What good was telling him if he didn’t feel the same way, thus ruining a great friendship?

“Do you want it to be different Robby?” You countered back. 

He leaned in, his breath hot on your face, “I asked you first.”

He thought he had the upper hand. But you were like a lightning bug, faster.  

“I asked you second, Robby.”

Like a rubber band, the tension snapped as Bob was unable to hold back a snort of laughter. The tension left your shoulders, the sight of him laughing familiar and safe. 

“I’m going to really miss your resounding maturity,” Bob deadpanned after gaining the ability to compose himself, though a sweet crooked smile remained. 

It was now your turn to roll your eyes, though it didn’t stop the smile currently forming on your face. Seeing this side of Bob was always fun; most folks thought he was quiet and meek. The truth was that he liked to observe and didn’t find value in speaking when it wasn’t necessary. He didn’t hold back with you, didn’t feel the need to sit and observe. He truly conversed with you and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel special. 

He was never that way with the other girls he dated. 

“You love me,” you teased back. It was a comment you've said countless times, always with that sweet, albeit mischievous smile that made Bob's heart flutter. 

But this time instead of shaking his head or rolling his eyes, he leaned forward until your foreheads were touching. 

Seeing him up close took your breath away. You could see how his roots were beginning to darken, the blonde fading as he got older. The little scar on his chin from a BB Gun incident when he was ten. Eyes bluer than the ocean. The ends of his hair were beginning to curl, something you'd greatly miss when he'd get the military mandated buzz cut. 

“Yeah, I do.” There was no teasing in his voice. No mischief in his eyes. Instead of playfully shaking your shoulder, his hand found its way to the back of your neck, fingers cupping your warm skin. He was moving quickly, making you unable to truly process what he had just said. 

Despite it being new territory, he was handling it beautifully. You, on the other hand, were torn between wondering if your increased heart beat was medically concerning and how large Bob’s hands were. 

“You gotta….if you want to stop, tell me,” His breathing had increased, like it did when he had finished his part in the marching band. But this wasn’t marching band practice and y’all weren’t on the high school field. You were in your parents’ basement, with Bob’s lips quickly closing the gap between yours and his. 

It wasn’t your first time kissing Bob, but it might as well have been. Years of experience had given him more confidence. He knew where to put his hands now, one still on your neck to guide you, the other gripping the soft flesh of your hip. He didn’t hesitate to slide his tongue across your bottom lip, successfully driving you wild. 

When the rounded tip of his nose brushed against yours, a soft laugh escaped your lips. Bob didn’t mind, using the chance to let his tongue explore your mouth. Your body leaned towards him, hands gripping the soft fabric of his old Warped Tour T-shirt. 

“I thought you,” your words were slurred, a weak moan interrupting your speech due to his lips moving down to your neck, “Thought you were gonna eat me out.” 

Bob’s moan vibrated against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His hands traveled to your breasts, gripping them through your T-shirt. It wasn't a hard squeeze, which is what you were used to. 

It was pleasurable. Bob was pleasurable. 

“Did none of the guys you were with do foreplay?” He asked, his hands continuing their ministrations. 

“I-fuck- yes they did, it just never took this long,” you grunted against his lips. 

“God, you have terrible taste in men.”

You wanted to let Bob know that he was now included in that group. But then his fingers hooked themselves around the band of your shorts, pulling them down. Had you known what tonight would entail, you would have opted for underwear that wasn't so worn. The long hairs on his arms tickled your sensitive skin as he moved to kneel on the floor, the cool basement air making you realize just how wet you were. 

How could he do that so quickly? 

He pinned your hips against the soft couch cushions. With anyone else, you would complain with how hard he was gripping your soft skin. But with Bob, you’d love it. It meant hand-shaped bruises that would stay after he left, reminding you of tonight. 

When his sharp nose nudged your clothed slit, a loud gasp erupted from your mouth. 

Thank god your parents were on vacation. 

His tongue was so wide as it stroked the quickly dampening fabric. How was he able to find your clit so quickly? Most struggled to find it even after your panties had been taken off. 

Bob couldn’t help but chuckle upon hearing your strained whimpers. You were practically squirming, hips erratically jerking with every touch. 

“Wha-why did you stop?” You whined, looking down to find him staring up to you. 

“Are you-I just need to know, do you still want this?” God, he was so fucking considerate. In any other moment, you’d find it endearingly sweet. 

But if his tongue felt that good against your covered cunt, you were dying to feel it without the barrier. 

“Robby, I swear to god, if you don’t eat me out, I’m going upstairs and using my vibrator,” Your voice was strained, your knuckles turning white from gripping the couch cushions.  

He laughed.  Bob knew you were bluffing. He had just gotten started and you were already so wet. 

Slowly, he took his glasses off, placing them on the coffee table behind him, making a show of it. 

“Won’t need those. I’m nearsighted after all.”

“You little-” The insult remained unsaid, as Bob pushed your underwear to the side, his mouth instantly latching onto your swollen clit. 

His mouth was warm. The pressure wasn’t too much, just enough to make you wither in pleasure. It felt so good, so fucking good. When Bob looked up, he found your mouth open, despite no sounds coming out. 

Good. 

You deserved to know what it was like, to have someone care about your pleasure, to focus solely on making you feel incredible. 

God, he could feel his cock throbbed. You looked so pretty with your eyes glazed over, mouth agape as you watched him, completely enthralled. 

And he had just gotten started. 

He wanted to do more than make you come, he wanted to blow your mind. Call it selfish, but Bob wanted to ruin you for anyone else. He had always held back his tongue when it came to the people you dated, knowing sooner or later you'd realized they weren't worth your time. 

But now he had his chance and Bob sure as hell wasn't going to let it slip away. 

The loud sound of fabric ripping broke you out of the pleasure filled haze you were in. Before you could make a sound about your now ripped underwear, your knees were pinned to your chest, giving Bob complete access to your soaked core.

“So fucking sweet,” He groaned against your cunt, sending vibrations all through your body, “Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” 

“Robby.” 

To say Bob dreamed of hearing you moan his name would be the understatement of the fucking century. 

Your whole body was on fire, unable to do anything else but take everything Bob was giving. 

A resounding moan fell from your lips as Bob thrusted two fingers inside you, your walls struggling to accommodate the unexpected stretch. 

Was he this thick elsewhere?

You wanted to find out. Wanted to feel it inside you, in your mouth. You shamelessly wanted it all. But you couldn’t even voice that because Bob was tracing figure eights on your clit, his fingers brushing against a spot you thought Cosmo had made up. 

Fuck, he was doing a number on you. His soft hair threaded through your fingers as you gripped the strands. Your hips involuntarily jerked upwards, desperate to get as much of Bob as possible. 

You kept expecting him to stop, considering you were wet enough for him to fuck you. That's what everyone else did. 

But Bob Floyd wasn't like everyone else. Far from it. 

He was fucking delighted to hear all the cute, strained noises coming from you as he continued.  Each time you tugged on his hair, a groan would fall from his lips. It was the prettiest sound you had ever heard. 

Why did either of you wait this long? 

You tried to communicate, to let him know you were close, tugging on his hair, trying to move away from his mouth. 

But Bob was deceivingly strong, using his free hand to pin your hip back to the couch, his mouth firmly on your pussy. 

When you looked down, you were in awe of how blissed Bob looked. His eyes were closed as his mouth remained latched to your clit. The sounds of your own wetness were obscene, but barely audible over the moans Bob was letting out. 

He really did enjoy it.

“Come. Wanna taste ya,” His voice was muffled as he added a third finger inside you. 

Worried thoughts of coming on his face left your brain as pleasure coursed through your veins. Without any warning, the band that had been tightening came undone.

Bob used both hands to hold your hips firmly in place, his tongue lapping up your release. 

You don't recall coming this hard or this long before. It wasn't a small wave, it felt like the whole damn ocean was taking you under. 

His fingers continued to stretch you open, prolonging your high. The Navy was the perfect fit for him, considering he could apparently hold his breath for an impressive amount of time. 

The soft fabric of the couch cushions brushed as the back of your head, your eyes half closed. You couldn't even voice an acknowledge when Bob’s mouth and fingers withdrew from your abused cunt. 

“You're so pretty when you come,” Bob murmured, his lips brushing against yours. 

Your hands tugged on the soft fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. 

“M-my turn,” you whined, hips jerking up towards his. 

Bob shook his head, “Wanna be inside ya.” 

How was this the same guy who feared clowns as a kid? 

Before you could even question it, Bob had sat down on the couch, gripping your hips to help you straddle his lap. When had he taken off his jeans? How was he so quick- 

Jesus Christ, he was huge. 

“Fuck, she was right.” 

Bob looked up from where you two were about to connect, a very confused look on his face, “Excuse me?” 

“Betsey Thomas said you had a huge dick,” you confessed, wishing that you'd think before speaking for once. 

Bob’s brows knitted together in confusion, “Betsey Thomas has never seen my dick, the fuck are you talking about?” 

“Said she could tell you were packing because of the gym shorts you'd wear for PE class.” Bob signed, shaking his head as he muttered something about the required uniform. 

“I….we can unpack this later-” 

You snorted, “Why? Too busy packing here?” 

Your laughter was cut short by Bob rubbing his cock against your soaked cunt. Memories of high school escaped your brain, the only thing you could focus on now was Bob and his huge dick. 

Curious wasn't accurate. Frankly, you were desperate for him. Had been since middle school, if you were being truthful. 

“Woah, hey. Easy baby, easy,” his voice made your thighs clench, made you whine into his shoulder as you tried to line your aching hole with his cock. 

Finally, you felt him at your entrance. Slowly, he filled you up inch by inch. Every time you tried to urge him to go faster, Bob would simply shake his head before pressing a kiss against your cheek. 

“Don't want to hurt ya darlin’.” 

Darlin. You were his darlin. 

He made you feel so full, and you didn't even have it all inside of you yet. All you could do was cling to him as he whispered praises in your ears. 

Once you reached the base, it felt like you and Bob were the only ones in the world. At least, that’s what you pretended. It was better than thinking about how he would be gone for who knows how long after tonight. After boot camp was done, he would be off to train for the Navy. 

Even he didn't know when he would return home. 

It wasn't fair, finally expressing your feelings for one another just to be separated immediately after. You wanted him to stay, to go on dates with him, to visit him on the weekends when school started, just like everyone else in a long distance relationship. 

“Hey, what's wrong? Do you- we can stop if you want, it's okay.” Bob’s voice was soft, full of concern. 

His hand lifted your chin up from his shoulder, revealing your watery eyes. 

“I don't want you to go.” 

“I know,” his voice was barely a whisper, matching your volume. Long fingers gently traced over your face, as if he was trying to memorize them. 

“I know it's horrible timing, but we'll figure it out, okay? I want to figure it out with you, I promise,” He peppered your face with soft kisses, earning a small smile out of you. 

“But for now, can I make ya feel good? Because I'm willing to bet no guy has made you come while fucking ya.” 

Unlike in the past, where Bob’s smartass comments earned him a shove, you pressed your lips against his. 

“I'm gonna start moving now, okay?” Even though he warned you, nothing could have prepared you for how full Bob made you when his hips thrusted upwards. 

“You're-fuck- you feel so good, oh my God.” 

Your fingers tangled into Bob’s hair, trying to commit the feeling to memory. 

Bob was trying to do the same, his hands roaming over your body as he took in your scent. Maybe if he asked nicely, you'd let him take a bottle of your perfume with him. 

He was going to need it for the next few months. 

Your mouth clashed against his, tongue desperate to taste him. Wandering hands desperate to feel everything everywhere. 

“When-fuck- when I come back, wanna take you out. W-we can go to that Italian place by your school. The one where you have to wear a tie.” How Bob was able to talk coherently while fucking you was beyond comprehension. 

The Navy will be lucky to have his great ability to multitask. 

“Gonna bring ya flowers too. Sunflowers ‘cause they're-oh my god- you're favorite.” You didn't think you could recall your full name with the way Bob is thrusting into you, much less favorite things. 

Your walls clench around Bob’s thick cock, eliciting a desperate groan from him, rather than the instant ejaculation you were used to. 

“If you keep doing that, I'm gonna come,” Bob whined into the crook of your neck.

“That’s-shit- the point,” you grunted, your hips picking up speed. 

Bob shook his head, “Need you to come first.” 

Confusion caused you to still your hips, “Bob, I already-” 

“Don't finish that sentence, don't you dare,” Bob ended his command with a strong thrust that made you feel as if he was splitting you open on his cock. 

Your head dropped down to the crook of his neck. His skin was so warm and the smell of sage was nearly overwhelming. You knew exactly what body wash he had used, as it was the same one he wore ever since junior year, when you commented on how nice it was. 

In hindsight, it was painfully obvious. 

His lips found yours, capturing them in a desperate kiss. When you felt his fingers draw circles on your clit, you saw stars. 

You didn't know it could feel this good with someone. This was more than a quick fuck, as you actually felt cared for. It was intense, the sensitivity of your first orgasm still echoing every time the thick head of his cock brushed against your walls. 

It's audible how wet you are for Bob. He can feel it at the base of his cock, which makes him wonder what it would be like to have you on your knees, or better, your back, all spread out for him. 

“C’mon sweet girl,” he’s panting, voice desperate and raspy, “Wanna-fuck! Wanna feel you come s’bad, please, please baby.” 

Each circle drawn on your clit causes the band in your stomach to tighten. Combined with Bob’s words, you knew you wouldn't last much longer. 

“You're incredible, shit, I-fuck. All yours. Wanna be all yours. Fuck fuck fuck, clenching me so hard, fuck, don't stop.” Obscene was not a word many, if any, would use to describe Bob Floyd. 

Up until thirty minutes ago, you would have considered yourself part of that group. 

But now? Now you were falling apart on his cock. The rush of pleasure had hit like a brick, coursing through your veins. It hit harder than anything else, harder than the now banned alcohol caffeine combo drink, or any controlled substance doctors had prescribed to help you focus. 

His finger-fuck, usually you had to use two of your own- didn’t stop rubbing your clit, nor does he stop thrusting in and out of your pulsing cunt. It's almost as if-no, you know Bob’s enjoying making you feel euphoria. 

That's what blows your mind. His laser focus on your pleasure, rather than his own. Truthfully, he could have come already and you wouldn't have thought twice about it. 

But now it was all you could think about. How much he cared, how good he felt. How incredible it was for him to pull your hips flushed against his, filling you to the brim with his cock. 

“Holy shit you're so tight-I, sh-should I pull out?” 

Instead of answering, you used all your strength to rock your hips against him. Considering he made you come twice, the least you could do was help him find his release. 

Your fingers gripped his hair, tugging on the strands as your mouth clashed against his. 

The downright guttural groan he releases against your mouth has you clamping down on his cock. The motion finally leads to Bob’s undoing, causing him to come deep inside you, warmth flooding your body. 

His arms are wrapped around your body, clinging onto you as if he thinks you'll disappear if he lets go. 

You’d be a damn fool to. 

The basement is now quiet, apart from the heavy breathing coming from both you and Bob. 

After several minutes pass by, you gather the courage to break the silence, “Did you mean all that? Taking me out on a date and being mine?” 

Bob’s cheek burned a bright red as he timidly nodded his head, “I….yeah. I didn't mean to say it when we were, you know. I'm sorry.” 

You pressed a reassuring kiss to his warm cheek, “Robby, what do you feel the need to apologize for?” 

He looked up to you, those earnest blue eyes sparkling, “Shit timing?” 

“You're not wrong about that, but like you said earlier, I want to work it out with you.” Your words brought comfort, giving Bob the confidence to place a sweet kiss right on your lips. His smile was burning into yours, causing your stomach to flutter. 

“I know it's not that Italian restaurant, but can I take you out to breakfast tomorrow?” 

The local diner had been a go-to since y'all were thirteen. But this time would be different. This time you wouldn't feel the urge to look away when he caught you staring. This time neither one would correct the waitress when she'd make a comment about y'all being a cute couple. 

The soft call of your name pulled you out of your thoughts. 

“Uh can I….eat you out again? Tomorrow obviously! Like before we go to the diner?” 

Good Lord this man was going to be the death of you.

---------------------------------------------------------

@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @attapullman @ryebecca @sio-ina-bottle @rhettabbotts @callsignspark @roosterforme @lewmagoo @hangmanapologist @justabovewater20 @theharddeck @cumholland @bobfloydsbabe @sometimesanalice @heartfairy @auroralightsthesky

[tired-and-ticklish]

Employee Training

Disclaimer: This is a tickle fic, so if that isn’t your thing, then just ignore this. 

Summary: Jax isn’t taking his job seriously, so Gangle decides he needs some extra… training.

TW: Tickling (maybe a bit intense?), Restraints, Jax Being Jax, Spoilers for Episode 4: Fast Food Masquerade.

(Let’s face it, a lot of us saw that scene and were all thinking the same thing.)

Working a normal fast food job wasn’t at the top of Jax’s list of adventures. He’d rather be back at the circus, putting more centipedes in Ragatha’s room or stealing Zooble’s parts. But instead, he and the others were forced to work a terrible minimum wage job with an annoying Gangle as their shift manager.  Hell, it was the crybaby’s idea in the first place!

“Ooooh Jaaaaax~!” Speaking of the pain in his tail, Gangle called out from behind the rabbit, that stupid smile from the mask Zooble gave her still plastered across her face.

“The bathroom looks like a biohazard and needs a good scrubbin’!” Gangle told him.

“Shouldn’t like, a biohazard crew take care of that?” Jax asked, not wanting to put in anymore effort than the job was already requiring.

Gangle laughed. “Ohoh, Jaxy boy, don’t you want to be a model employee?”

“No, I don’t care about any of this.” Jax responded, crossing his arms.

“Well, that doesn’t sound like a can-do attitude to me!”

God, was she getting more annoying? “It’s not.”

Another laugh, simply followed by one word. “Bad.”

“I like you better when you’re sad.”

There was a sound, like glass cracking, but Jax ignored it. Honestly, the whole ‘chipper, happy-go-lucky’ attitude Gangle had at the current moment was making him wish they had stuck to the butcher adventure Caine suggested in the first place. Darn Pomni, darn suggestion box, darn not being able to actually swear in this Hell hole called a circus.

“Well..” Gangle replied, Jax either not noticing, or more likely, not caring, how close she sounded to strangling him. “Maybe you need some more…”

She paused, like Caine did sometimes, it was a bit uncanny to see. “More-”

“Training!” Gangle interrupted before he could finish.

Suddenly, two hands grabbed Jax, squishing him like a squeaky toy before dragging him into the back of the restaurant. Once they let go of him, Jax was shocked to find himself in a completely empty, dark room, save for the TV that suddenly turned on. On it was an employee training video, complete with the ‘motivational music, staring and made by Gangle, explaining how it would teach him how to be a good team member and asset to the cooperation.

Jax questioned when Gangle even made the video. Or maybe it was Caine’s doing? The adventures made no sense, so why did he expect a ‘normal’ one to make sense? The way the Gangle in the video spoke made Jax uncomfortable, talking about how dreams were unrealistic, and to stop trying. It was like she was losing it.

“But before we get into all that, first things first!” The Video-Gangle asked, smiling. “Are you smiling?”

“Uh, no…?” 

The music stopped. “Why not…?” Gangle wasn’t smiling anymore, just staring right at him.

Faster than Jax could respond, he was suddenly in a chair, four mechanical arms coming out and grabbing his limbs. They twisted him a few different ways, before shoving his face right into the TV. “Wait- Wait wait! N-Nobody can see this… right?” Jax asked nervously, suddenly regretting any and all decisions in his life that had led to this moment.

“Time for your employee reevaluation!”

With that, the robotic limbs pulled Jax back into the chair, his arms pulled up as far as they would go, his legs pinned down to the leg rest. Jax’s eyes darted around the room, trying to see anything he could use to try to free himself. He couldn’t move, couldn’t escape, couldn’t stop whatever Gangle had planned for him. 

“As an employee, you have to remember to smile!” The video continued, Gangle sounding more and more manic. “Don’t worry, we can help you with that!”

More arms popped out of the chair, Jax feeling his heart skip a few beats when he saw what the hands were doing, wiggling their fingers at him teasingly. Gangle couldn’t be serious, right?! His dread only grew as two of the hands removed his shoes, another unbuttoning his work shirt.

“G-Gangle wait wait wait! I-I-I’m smiling! I’m smiling!” Jax cried in a panic, trying to pull his arms down. “Y-You don’t have to do this!”

The Video-Gangle tsked lightly “Silly, we have to make sure our employees know that we serve with a smile~!” A sinister giggle came from her as she said that.

Jax swore he was going to find a way to break that plastic mask Zooble gave her! However, his thoughts of revenge were put on hold as one of the hands made a few test pokes to his stomach, causing him to jolt. This was bad, the way Jax’s body had been designed in this digital world physically made him unable to bite his lip, so that strategy was out the window. Seems like the jolts he made were all the hands needed, descending upon him.

“W-Wahahahit wahhait nohhohohoho!” Jax snorted, trying to twist and turn away from the devilish hands.

“See, isn’t that better~?” Video-Gangle asked, her ribbons wiggling as well “I’ll check on you in a while!”

A while?! How long was a while?! The darn clock seemed busted, what if he was in there for hours?! Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like Gangle, or the robotic arms cared, the TV turning off as a pair of hands attacked his armpits.

“N-Nohohohoh nohohoho come bahahahack!” Jax pleaded. “I-Ihihihih’m smihihihihihling!”

The robotic hands continued their assault, gently tracing around his armpits, while the ones on his stomach dug right in, causing him to attempt to kick his legs. They hadn’t exactly gotten to his absolute worst spots yet, but Jax had a feeling it was only a matter of time. His paws were exposed, and he could swear he could sense two hands just behind his ears, waiting for the go-ahead to strike.

“Cohohohohome ohohohohon!”

He really hated how much they could actually feel in the circus sometimes. Sure, it was funny to see the others in pain, or watch their panic as he attacked their own worst spots, but having the tables turned on him? It also didn’t help that, thanks to Gangle, the arms knew exactly where his worst spots were, and how harshly or softly to tickle them to drive him up the wall. 

Case in point, one hand swirling a finger right on his navel, threatening to tickle the inside, while also cruelly never actually doing it. The ones on his armpits spidered up and down, even attacking his ribs at a few points. Jax wasn’t sure how long the tickling had gone on for, before the TV turned back on, Gangle’s face smiling at him. The hands stopped, allowing the rabbit to catch his breath. The relief Jax felt was short-lived, however, as the Video-Gangle spoke again. “Step one of your employee reevaluation is complete!” Gangle told him, sounding proud. “Now that you’re smiling, we’ve got to work on your attitude! Being rude to customers, or other coworkers, especially by throwing them in the deep fryer, is strictly forbidden at Spudsy’s!”

“Come on, it’s not like Rags was hurt all that badly.” Jax tried to argue, before immediately regretting it as he noticed the arms were grabbing something just out of his field of vision, making him dread whatever would be next.

“That’s the kind of attitude I’m talking about!” Video-Gangle huffed, before smiling again. “So, I thought you could use some extra motivation!”

Jax’s heart, or, what he supposed he could call a heart in this digital body, nearly stopped as the mechanical hands came back with paint brushes.

“Oh… [trumpet honk]...” The rabbit responded in disbelief. “Y-You’re not actually [quack]ing serious, r-right?!”

Unfortunately for him, Gangle was dead serious, as the paintbrushes glided up and down his paws, making him snort. The pair of hands by his head also got in on the action, softly, slowly, and tortuously rubbing up and down the insides of ears, making him scream out in ticklish agony.

“GA-GAHAHAHANGLE NOHOHOHOHO!”

“Aww don’t worry, I’ll check on you in a while again!” More random noises came from Jax’s mouth, trying to swear, but instead there were a few more musical instrument noises, a car honk, and even a cow moo at one point. That only seemed to encourage the hands to be even harsher toward him, one of the paintbrushes going in between his toes. Jax howled with laughter, trying to twist and turn away from his fate.

“IIHIHIHIHIHIH HAHAHAHAHATE THIHIHIHIHIHIS STUHUHUHUHUHPID AHAHAHAHAHAVEHEHEHENTURE!”

Jax then let out an uncharacteristic squeal as he felt feathers brushing up and down his ears. This was maddening! As the paintbrushes picked up their pace, Jax felt a horrible thought enter his mind. Would Gangle actually let him out of here? Or would she just keep him there until the end of the adventure, making sure he couldn’t destroy anything or cause problems for anyone else? “P-PLEHEHEHEASE PLHEHEHEHEASE IIHIHIHIHI’LL BEHEHEHEHEHAVE!” Jax cried out desperately.

It seemed to work, as the tickling suddenly stopped, the arms releasing him. Jax caught his breath, feeling a few phantom tickles linger. He brought his hands up to his ears, trying to rub the tingling sensation away as the TV turned back on.

“Thank you, valued employee, for deciding to be a team player!” Video-Gangle told him, looking happy, proud, and… relieved? Maybe Jax was imagining things. “Of course, here at Spudsy’s, we respect our employees needing time for themselves, so you may take a few moments to get yourself together before heading back out there!”

Small mercies, Jax supposed. “You’re uh… not going to tell anyone about this, right?”

Video-Gangle simply giggled, before the TV turned off once again, leaving Jax alone with his thoughts. Well, he supposed this made both of them even, in a way. Jax knew about the figurine thing, and Gangle managed to make him beg for mercy. He shook his head, getting his dumb uniform back in order. Once he was more composed, one of the large hands from before gently pushed him out of the room and back into the work area, patting his head before disappearing to God knows where.

Back to work, Jax supposed.

[revelboo]

this right here is your ask to write a character you have wanted to write but haven’t gotten around to yet!!!

How about a shit-post scenario? I need more of the extra tiny Blokees… give me a teeny Star, Sounders, and Shocky

Mass Displacement Mayhem

Wheeljack x Reader

• Sitting crosslegged and sorting odds and ends into piles for Wheeljack, your head snaps up at the ‘oops.’ Eyes widening when he lunges for you, a hand outstretched and doesn’t quite make it. Whatever he was working on blowing up. Throwing your arms over your head as Wheeljack slams into the counter you’re on and curls himself over you, you hear shrapnel pinging off his back. And the blast of energy released knocks you flat as Wheeljack makes a funny noise. Then mass shifts, his optics widening as he scrambles to climb up with you. Hooking your arms around him, you pull and fall backwards with him sprawled on you. But when you lift your head, your mouth just falls open.

• “Ow,” he groans, before panicking that maybe he’s crushing you and trying to get up. Only to look up at you. “Oh.” Because you’re bigger than him somehow. He’d mass displaced past his limit and he’s about knee high on you now. Flexing his servos as he sits up, his vocal indicators flash pink when you touch them. “That wasn’t supposed to do that.”

• He’s toddler sized. Still Jackie, but so little. And you know darn well he’s an adult bot, but you still grin like an idiot and examine his little hands. Because he’s so adorable this size. When he doesn’t protest, you drag him into your lap, hooking your arms around him like a teddy bear. “I didn’t know you could go this small.”

• “I can’t.” Vocal indicators fully red now as you wrap yourself around him fussing over how tiny he is- and why are you talking to him like that? Voice cooing like he’s a sparkling. “I uh, really need to mass shift back?” That earns him an unhappy sounding ‘aww’ and he grimaces. “I guess i don’t have to right this second,” he mutters, venting when you hug him even tighter. Because being cuddled definitely isn’t awful. Hears you murmur he’s ‘toddler sized’ and has no idea what that means, but at least you’re happy? And as far as explosions go, this one wasn’t that bad, really. Comm pinging, he acknowledges it and hears Ratchet’s furious voice yell at him. “What the Pit did you do? I know this was somehow you!” Oops. Maybe it was isolated and not that- optics shuttering as pings start coming in from all over the Ark.

• Making a noise, Wheeljack just slumps, face pressed against you as his hands fist in your shirt. “I did it to everyone,” he groans as you bite back a laugh knowing he won’t appreciate it. But he’s so cute this way. It can’t be all that bad, they can just mass shift back, right?

[empress-simps]

Uncle Padfoot’s Motorcycle

Pairing: Dad! Remus x Mom! Reader CW: Language and Remus who’s gonna face the wrath of his wife. Summary: Uncle Sirius takes baby Moony out for a ride on his motorcycle and you aren't happy about it.

Note: I’ve literally enjoyed writing this, and dad! Marauders literally make me hdiskskssjska ALSO THANK YOU FOR 500 FOLLOWERS YOU GUYS🫨🥹 I LOVE Y’ALL

"Sirius Orion Black and Remus John Lupin!"

Sirius could feel his soul practically leave his body as he saw you, in your ever angry form, march to where he is handing your year old daughter to Remus' awaiting arms.

This is it, this is how Sirius thinks he’s going to leave the face of the Earth.

"Erm, I have to go! See you next week yeah?" Sirius clambers onto his motorcycle, praying to any deity that he would fly faster than you hexing him with your wandless magic.

"Bye pah foo!" Lyra grins, her four teeth in clear display as Sirius looked back and waved, "See you soon, baby moony! Have to go before mummy hexes me to no end!"

Remus watched his friend blankly, deep down wishing he too was in the back of the motorcycle with Lyra so he could escape the imminent wrath his wife that was to rain down on him.

“Remus. John. Lupin.”

Each word you uttered was like a nail on his coffin. He tried his best not to wince as he heard how utterly cold and sharp you spat his name out. So, gathering up his remaining courage, he faced you with a smile- and he definitely didn’t place your squealing baby girl in front of him, making her somewhat his shield. He hoped the cuteness of Lyra would soften the blow quite a bit.

“Hi, darling! You’re back early- “

“Tell me I did just not see our one-year-old baby land in front of our house riding Sirius’ flying motorcycle or so merlin help me I will strangle you.” You warned, taking Lyra from his hands, who happily snuggled in your arms.

Well, shit.

There goes his only chance of living.

He offered a wry smile, ignoring how sweaty his hands had become. “Alrighty, I won’t tell you- “

“Remus! You seriously thought it was a good idea to let our child ride a flying motorcycle? She just turned a year-old last week for Merlin’s sake!” You scolded, poor Remus. Call him a seer because he can already see himself sleeping on the couch for the entire week, a few days if he’s lucky.

“Darling, Sirius and I made sure it was completely safe.” He tried to explain, “Lyra doesn’t even have a helmet! What were you guys thinking?!” You hugged your baby closer to your chest.

“Well, Padfoot said it’s unnecessary since they’re technically flying.” You scoffed in disbelief as you comforted Lyra who started to fuss. “Remind me to make Sirius fall next time I set his eyes on him on that darn vehicle of his.”

Remus could only let out a nervous chuckle. "Erm, I will."

“Why was Padfoot even here the first place?” You raised an eyebrow, going back inside the house to place Lyra in her playpen as Remus followed you like a servant who’s trying to regain your favor. “He also took Harry out for a ride. After that, he went here and told me Lyra should also experience it.”

You turned around and faced him, a hand on your hips. “I’m guessing Lily isn’t aware- because there is no way in her right mind that she would let her two-year-old son ride a flying motorcycle.”

His silence was the only thing you needed to hear from him.

“Where even were you when he took Lyra out for a ride?”

He blinks stupidly, “Outside, watching them.”

“You better choose your next words carefully Lupin.”

“I was supposed to ride with them, darling! But Sirius already took off when I was about to get onto the motorcycle!” He explains, hoping it’ll be enough to save him as he recalled the events from earlier.

“Pah foo!” Lyra grinned as she clapped her hands excitedly, her sandy brown hair that was tied in pigtails was swaying with every move she made. Sirius returned her excitement, bypassing Remus who answered the door and made a beeline to the squealing baby.

“There’s my baby Moony!” He lifts Lyra up from her playpen and peppers her face with kisses while Remus smiled, rolling his eyes playfully. “I’m starting to think you’re just visiting so you can hang out with my daughter, Padfoot.”

Sirius turned to look at him, smiling playfully as Lyra tugged on his curls. “I’m afraid so, Moony.” He then turned his attention to the child. “Now, who wants to go on an adventure with uncle Padfoot?”

Sirius’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he held Lyra aloft, her giggles filling the room. “We’ll soar over the treetops, chase the clouds, and maybe even race a few owls, eh?” He bounced her gently, eliciting more delighted squeals.

Remus watched them, a fond smile on his face, thinking that his best mate wouldn’t seriously do it. “Just make sure you keep her within sight, Padfoot. No loops or dives,” he added with a mock sternness that fooled neither Sirius nor Lyra.

Sirius mock saluted. “Aye, aye, Captain Moony!” He turned to Lyra, whispering conspiratorially, “Your dad’s just worried we’ll have too much fun without him.”

Remus didn’t even know how it happened, he just suddenly became aware of the situation when Sirius and Lyra were off, the flying motorcycle roaring to life as they took to the skies, leaving a trail of laughter, the faint smell of engine oil in their wake, and a faint ‘I fly, dada!’ from Lyra.

You sighed, effectively pulling him out of his thoughts. “At least Lyra’s safe, I know Sirius wouldn’t endanger his god daughter.”

You watched as Remus’s eyes softened; the worry lines smoothed out from his forehead. “Yes, Lyra is safe, and Sirius might be reckless, but he’s also fiercely protective,” he agreed, his voice carrying a note of gratitude. You hummed in agreement.

Remus tested the waters, “So… I won’t be sleeping in the couch, right?”

You couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle, the tension from earlier dissipating like morning fog in the sunlight. “No, Remmy, you won’t be sleeping on the couch,” you said, your voice laced with a hint of amusement. “But let’s agree that any future flights require both parents’ approval, alright?”

Remus let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing. “Agreed, and I promise, no more surprises,” he said earnestly, reaching out to take your hand.

Just then, Lyra’s babbling caught your attention, and you both turned to see her playing with a small, plush fox, looking eerily similar to your animagus form that Sirius must have sneaked into her playpen.

“Maybe we can’t protect her from everything, but we can make sure she knows she’s loved and safe,” you mused aloud, watching Lyra.

Remus nodded, his eyes reflecting the same sentiment. “That’s all we can do,” he agreed. “And maybe teach her a few tricks so she can outfly Sirius one day,” he added with a wink.

You glared at him playfully, then laughed, imagining a future where Lyra, with her inherited Marauder’s cunning, would indeed give Sirius a run for his money. “Now that’s a plan I can get behind,” you said with a smile.

As the night drew on, the house filled with the soft sounds of a family at peace. The day’s adventures were recounted with laughter and gentle teasing, and plans for a grounded tomorrow were made. And in that moment, all was well in the world of magic and mischief.

[yanderelionwrites]

I'm Not Sad, Just Tired - Yandere!Leona x Reader

Content Warning: (soft) yandere, implied kidnapping/captivity, Stockholm Syndrome slowly setting in perhaps? 👀

Word Count: 1.1k

(Kind of a part 2 to this but I think this can be read on its own)

It’s another banquet you couldn’t care less about.

You had been strongly encouraged (read: guilt tripped) to accompany Leona to the event by his sister-in-law. And who were you to deny the Queen’s request? You sucked it up and let Leona escort you around, maintaining as far of a distance you could get away with while having your hand placed on his arm.

It’s obvious why Leona was so intent on ditching. This party blows. 

You can’t recall what the celebration is even for. It was most likely for some diplomatic reason, though you’re pretty sure the king just likes throwing parties at this point. Either way, it has only been an hour and you are already tired of it.

The guests had finished eating and were now dancing the night away. You manage to lose Leona in the crowd, taking this chance to be alone and heading out of the venue. You can’t take another minute rubbing elbows with these people.

The palace’s hallway is silent, save for the muffled music coming from the party and the clicking of your shoes against the tiled floor. You stroll down the corridor, not heading anywhere in particular. You just need to clear your head and get some fresh air.

Stumbling upon the palace’s courtyard, you find a bench to rest at. There’s a sense of tranquility here; it’s the perfect place to take a break from faking a smile for all of the Afterglow Savanna. It also gives a nice view of the night sky up above.

You’re enjoying the peace until you hear footsteps approaching you from behind. At first you think it’s Leona, the man who is persistent in keeping you next to him, but the steps sound too light.

Turning around, you see little prince Cheka trying to creep up on you. His big, brown eyes widen in astonishment when you take notice of him and he slightly pouts.

“Awww! I wanted to surprise you! I thought I was being so quiet too…” Cheka whines, hopping up onto the bench to sit beside you.

“Wha- Cheka? What are you doing out here by yourself? You should have been put to bed by now,” you say, swiveling your head left and right to look for any of his attendants.

“I’m not sleepy yet, so I snuck out!” he admitted happily.

You sigh and shake your head, ruffling his hair. “Of course you did. If you don’t go back to your room, Kifaji or your retainers won’t be very happy with you.”

“But I wanna stay with youuu.” Cheka hugs your arm and presses his cheek against your shoulder, nuzzling it. “And with Unca! How come he’s not here with you?”

Grimacing, you shrug and try to brush off the subject. “He’s still at the banquet. Now you should really go back to bed, Cheka-”

The cub ignores your request and plops his head on your lap. Curling up so he can still see your face, he asks, “Do you like Unca Leona?”

Where did that come from? You tense and avoid his curious stare, opting to gaze up at the stars. “Why do you ask?”

“You always look sad near him.” Cheka yawns and turns the other way. “Are you sad?”

Darn this perceptive kid. You don’t want to tell him the truth. You can’t tell him the truth. He wouldn’t understand. How would you even explain to him that his uncle and everyone else in this palace are basically holding you here against your will? That his uncle, his idol, is a selfish, irritating, possessive, clingy, and manipulative prick?

Okay, well, he wasn’t that bad. He makes sure you’re as comfortable as you can be here. And he’s been fairly patient with you even after all the crap you have spewed at him. But still. Not the point.

“I’m not sad, sweetheart,” you lie. “It’s just…complicated.”

“Unca really loves you. And me, Mama, and Papa love you too! So don’t be sad, okay?”

Easier said than done.

You remain silent, petting his hair to try and lull him to sleep. It works like a charm, with Cheka’s soft snores being heard not too long after.

“So this is where you ran off to. You know, it kind of hurts when you decide to up and ditch me like that.”

You don’t have to look up to know who it is. Your small reprieve from Leona is cut short as he stalks into your field of vision. His neutral expression turns into one of slight annoyance at seeing Cheka curled up on your lap.

“Great. I see the little furball has escaped his room once again. Kid never fails to give me a headache.” His voice is just above a whisper so as not to arouse the sleeping child. He knows that if Cheka did wake up now, he’d never fall back asleep.

“We should take him to his room before anyone freaks out about him missing,” you sigh. You move to pick up the young prince, but Leona stops you.

 “I’ll carry him,” he resigns, taking him from your lap.

Trailing after Leona down the hall, you can’t help but think the scene before you is endearing. As much as he denies it, he truly cares for his nephew’s wellbeing.

You two reach Cheka’s bedroom, and Leona sets him down against the massive amounts of pillows and stuffed animals that are strewn across his bed. After unceremoniously draping the blanket over his small frame, Leona leaves just as quickly as he entered. You stay behind, however, taking the time to properly tuck Cheka in and making sure he’s nice and settled. You hesitate for a minute, before leaning down and pressing a light kiss to the young prince’s head, whispering goodnight to him.

Leona watches from the doorway, a hint of jealousy swirling in his eyes. He feels a pang in his heart as he wishes he was the one you’d treat so gently and affectionately. That you’d kiss him goodnight, maybe even cuddle up next to him in his bed before drifting to sleep together. That you’d actually care about him like he does about you.

Your smile drops after you leave Cheka’s room, turning back to that look of disinterest you wear these days. You don’t meet his eyes when you point in the direction of where the banquet was being held.

“Well, I guess break time’s over. Should we head back over now?” you ask.

Leona stuffs his hands in his pockets and walks past you. “Nah. It’s not like we’re needed there. I’m turning in for the night.”

“Oh, ok… Well, goodnight then.”

That’s rare. You’re actually saying that to him this time.

“Yeah… ‘Night.”

And with that, you both go your separate ways towards your rooms. It would be another cold night without you or your love, but Leona will just have to endure.

He’s used to it by now.

~~~

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

[mourningsbane]

Hi hello, just find out your blog IM SO NOT WELL ABOUT IT'S IT'S SOOOOO GOOD. Love the artstyle, love the story, love how ghoulish it is!

That being said, little theory time.

Oh Honeyspirng, Love, I might not know what killed you, but it seems like you are so so deep under the soil. You are the dirty little secret, a curse, a literal skeleton in the non-existent closet. You and your missing kittens, taken away from you (by the order of your love [the deputy, Frail was the name?] who hoped they were alive), so you rot somewhere beneath the dirt. You are alone, with no warmth to call your own. They buried you with no proper care, tossed aside, without zero concern of you. So StarClan won't claim you, they cannot. So you linger a constant reminder of the terrible negligence the clan put you though, don't you.

From Pretty words to simple words, I just found this blog and i am pretty darn sure that Honeyspirng can't know peace and hunts the clan cuz they fuged the burial. No respect to the dead as in desecration of the dead in hope to safe kittens who would never be born but also no proper grave to call thier own made them this way. Perhaps they were stuffed into a burrow? That would explain the first bit with "can't breath". StarClan nor DarkForest can claim them, so she lingers. Looking for her kits and hoping for connection they loved so so much in life.

And why would they do that? Well my only bet is on a little bit of prevention, Honeyspirng was sick so a quick burial would be safer - the sickness would not spread, and a little bit of superstition - Honeyspirng's kits weren't looking like regular kittens so the clan might have took it as a bad omen, and not burring them properly would be an act to try and shield the clan of any negative consecration the kits and Honey could bring after death, which frankly resulted in them being hunted. Which could be considered a great mistake, error in judgement that lead them here👀

-🐰

Oooh! I love reading theories like this! It makes me happy to know that people find my little story interesting enough to theorize, and I love seeing people's different ideas! I especially love your word choice!

That being said, you're certainly on the right track. A LOT of things were fudged regarding Honeyspring's everything, and it's certainly going to come back to bite.

In life, Honeyspring was responsible for expanding the burrows, and when she passed, the clan buried her in a burrow she was working on before she became so gravely ill; it was supposed to be a nursery. The kits did not come out of Honeyspring's womb dead, but they didn't (couldn't) live long. When her kits passed shortly after, they were taken by Tanglefern to be buried separately.

If it helps, ALL of the main cats (Tanglefern, Flaildrizzle, Rootstar, Bearface, even Sweetkit) have a fatal flaw. Tanglefern's is cowardice, he'd never admit to his mistake.

[duskrosecreatesstuff]

Wooden You Like to Know?

Written originally as part of a frenzy of ideas bounced around with friends over the potential for the inappropriate use of Sussur tree pieces and by-products, and submitted for #HalsinTavWeek Day 6 - Aphrodisiacs

Summary: Halsin acquires a piece of Sussur wood, and uses it to create a special toy for his lover.

Read on AO3 here

Pairing: Halsin / F!Reader

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: Explicit smut, Aphrodisiac use, Sex toys, PiV sex, very slight bondage (if you squint), kinda Soft Dom Halsin (again, if you squint).

“Is that Sussur bark in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” you jokingly said, as he strode across the camp towards you, a conspicuous lump in the front of his trousers.

“Well, actually …” his face split in a wide grin as he pulled his hand from his pocket and withdrew a chunk of faintly glowing wood.

“Awww, darn.” you laughed, returning the grin.

Your feelings were mixed.  A touch of disappointment, a hint of smugness that you’d been right, and a whole lot of interest in what he actually planned to do with that piece of wood.  

“Besides, my heart.  I am always happy to see you.”  He leaned down to kiss the top of your head, before taking a seat on the log next to you.  He thoughtfully turned the piece over in his hands.

“So, why the interest in a piece of bark?  What do you intend to do with that?”

He continued to rotate the piece around, studying it.  “It isn’t bark, it’s a piece from the end of a branch.  And I’m curious.  I’ve never tried my hand at working with this type of wood before.  So I’m interested to see what my tools can do.”

So he intended to whittle something from it.  You were reluctant to touch the magical timber, although you were also curious about it.  Standing in the aura of the tree had drained your magic completely, surely it had to be affecting him too.

“How are you able to hold it?  Doesn’t it feel wrong?  And what about your magic?”

“It’s only a piece, so it doesn’t drain my magic.  Perhaps it can’t anymore, being separate from the living tree.  And it may be because I draw on Nature for my magic, not the Weave, as you do.  As for how I can hold it, well …”  He considered for a moment.  “It tingles a little, for sure.  Like a prickle on my skin. The sensation is  … interesting.”   There was something about the way he put emphasis on the word ‘interesting’, the way he caught your eye as he said it, that sent a pleasurable shiver down your spine.

*****

Days passed and you didn’t even think about the Sussur piece until one evening, as you were eating dinner.  He sat next to you, leaned in to kiss your cheek, and then whispered softly in your ear.

“I have a gift for you.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“A surprise.  For later.” You could feel his lips curl as he smiled against your neck. “But I ‘Suss-pect’ you might guess what it could be.”

Your eyes went wide.  Was that … did he just make a pun?  And was he referring to that piece of Sussur wood?  He’d made that into a gift for you?  

Your interest was thoroughly piqued and you tried to hurry him along by eating quickly, but he ignored your efforts.  You were positively vibrating with curiosity by the time he got up to head to his tent.  The speed with which you followed him was practically indecent.

He sat on his bedroll as you closed the flap behind you, his shirt already discarded for the night.  In one hand, he held an object wrapped in a piece of silken fabric, with the other, he patted the spot next to him, in an invitation to sit down.  You did so, looking from his face, to his lap and back again.  He smiled at you.

He offered the wrapped bundle to you, and you took it in both hands, your eyes getting big with realisation as you felt the vaguely cylindrical shape beneath the fabric.  He hadn’t …

You laid the item in your lap, and peeled back the fabric, to reveal the thing inside. Your mouth fell open.  He had.  In your lap you cradled a perfectly carved replica of his own erect self.  No wonder it had taken days, the detail was exceptional, and he had clearly taken the time to polish the surface to a fine finish.  A very necessary step, given the intended use.  Somehow, the piece of wood still managed to maintain its unearthly silver-blue glow.

You stroked your fingers along it, feeling how smooth the finish on the wood was. But more importantly feeling how the magical timber felt against your skin. How had he described it all those days ago?  LIke a tingle?  A prickle, that was it.  And that was on your fingers.  How would it feel when it was pressed against … other parts of you.  You didn’t realise he was staring at you, taking in every detail of your reaction, until he spoke.

“Is it to your liking?”

“It’s beautiful.” You grinned, leaning over to give him a brief kiss.  “Thank you.”

You moved to wrap it back up.  He placed a hand over yours, pausing you.

“Don’t you want to try it out?”

“Here? Now?” Your eyes were wide, and you suddenly felt rather shy.   “You want me to …?”

“I’d like us to.  To enjoy it. Together.”

You felt the heat rising to your cheeks.  You had plenty experience with toys, but you’d always kept that private.  You’d never used one with him before.  Not with anyone.  You hesitated.

“It’s … I … “ you struggled to find the right words.  You exhaled, hard, steeling yourself.  “Sharing a toy … it’s a bit new to me.  I’ve never-”

“Then we start slow,” He reached for the toy and placed it carefully to one side, “and see where things lead us.”

He reached for you, pulling you into his lap, your thighs spreading to straddle his.  He leaned in to kiss you softly, hands caressing up your back, feeling the tension in your shoulders.  He rubbed gently, as your own hands explored over his broad, warm chest.  You relaxed into him and his hands dipped to the hem of your shirt, tugging it up.  He pulled away from your lips to lift the shirt over your head, but quickly met with you again as he tossed it to the side.

His hands drifted to cup your breasts, as his tongue licked at your lips, requesting entry.  You parted them for him, your tongues meeting, as you arched your back to press your chest into his hands.  He stroked his fingers over your nipples, felt them stiffen beneath his practised touch.  When he heard you moan softly against his mouth, he pinched them gently, rolling them between his fingertips.  Your breathing quickened, and you moved your hips to grind against his, feeling the real version of him stirring beneath you.

He leaned forward into you, a gentle pressure to lay back, his hands sliding down your sides, to slide your hips off him.  He pulled away from the kiss as he lowered you onto the soft furs of his bed, reaching for the waistband of your legwear, tugging it and your underwear down your thighs, as you wriggled your legs to help him get them completely off you.

He stared down, drinking in the view of you bared completely to him, and he glanced to the side at the toy, glowing gently like a phallic nightlight.  You watched him, lips parted slightly.

“May I try something?”

“Such as?” You felt a little nervous, but you trusted him.  Completely.

“I want you to close your eyes, and let me touch you with it. I want you to describe to me how it feels. And please, I need you to tell me if it gets to be too much.”

You took a deep breath, and nodded.  “Yes.”

You exhaled that breath as you closed your eyes, forcing yourself to relax back into the furs.  You became acutely aware of the cool air on your skin, the warmth emanating from him between your knees, the rustle as he moved.  You gasped as you felt something cool and smooth touch your breastbone, your eyes fluttering open at the tingling sensation against your skin.

“Now, now.” You heard his voice, deep and soft.  “No cheating.”

“It surprised me.”

“I could always blindfold you, if that would be easier.”

You gave it a thought, and agreed.  He quickly took the soft fabric that had wrapped the toy, and folded into a strip.  You sat up so he could wrap it over your eyes, and tied it carefully behind your head.  When he was sure you could no longer see him, he took the opportunity to steal another kiss, before pressing his hands to your shoulders, signalling for you to lay back again.

He didn’t keep you waiting long as he brought the toy to touch your chest in the same spot as before, and slowly dragged it down to your navel.  You shivered at the sensation.

“How does it feel?” he asked curiously.

“It’s like you said, it tingles.  And it’s not fading very quickly.”

You felt him repeat the motion with a warm fingertip.  You shivered again.

“And that?”

“It’s … more intense.  It's more sensitive there now.”

You felt him drawing a few more stripes over your body, his fingers trailing in the wake of sensitised skin, and you raised your hand, fingers searching, wanting, needing to touch something, preferably his warm skin.  You felt his hand encircle your wrist, and press it back down at your side.

“Behave.  Or I might just have to use the vines on you again.”

Usually, you loved that playful threat.  Another time, you would have enjoyed being just defiant enough to push him to use it.  But tonight, you were already feeling close to overwhelmed, so instead, you gripped handfuls of the furs beneath you.

He watched as you clasped the fur, and, satisfied with your token of submission, he released your wrist.  He drifted his fingertips over your ribs, moving his hand to cup your breast, and a moment later, you felt the touch of the Sussur magic brushing against your nipple, making you gasp.  The prickling sensation lingered as he moved the toy to your other nipple, and dipped his head to take your sensitised little bud between his lips.  You gasped and arched your back as he suckled gently, the sensation so much more intense than usual.

He used his knee to press your thighs a little wider as he trailed the toy lazily down over your stomach, across your mound, and down lower, to dip the tip in your dripping slick, then slid it back up along your slit to the apex. He positioned the toy against your clit, and then let it rest against your thigh, taking that moment to shed the rest of his own clothing.  You felt your clit swelling in response to the touch, a throbbing ache between your thighs.  You wiggled your hips, tilting them slightly, trying to rub against the toy, desperate for some friction.

He noticed what you were doing, and smirked, as he tossed his clothing aside.

“It seems that is to your liking.”  You could only huff in response.  He removed the toy from its position, and you whined at the loss of contact.  You were rewarded as he dipped his head to lap gently at your aching bud.

“Please.” you moaned, desperately pressing your hips up to him.

“Not yet, my heart.  I want to see how you look with this inside you.  Do you think you can take it?.”

“Yes,” you gasped. “I … I want to try.”

He slid the toy along your slit, bathing it in your slick, listening to your breath stutter as the magical wood touched your sensitive skin.  He lined it up carefully with your entrance.

“My love.  You will tell me to stop if this is too much, or you feel any discomfort?”

“I will. Yes.” you promised.

“Good.”  He smiled down at you, and slowly began to press the thick toy inside you.  You gasped, the muscles in your thighs twitching at the sensation.  You breathed hard, working to relax around the toy.  He paused, giving you a moment to adjust to the feel of it, listening to your breathing, watching for any signs of discomfort from you.

“More?”

“Please.” You panted. “Gods, please, yes”

He pulled the toy back, and started thrusting it slowly, working it deeper and deeper with each push, watching the way your back arched up to meet his movements, the quiver in your thighs.  

“Oh my heart.  You’re taking it so well.  Just a little more.”

You whimpered at the praise, all sensation focused on the throbbing in your core, as he rocked the toy deeper into you.  The muscles in your thighs trembled, and you realised he had stopped moving the toy. He looked down at you, admiring the way you were stretched wide around it, your slick skin shining in the soft glow of the wood.  With one hand holding it gently in place, he leaned down again to put his lips to your clit, licking and sucking on it.

Between the shiver of magic running through your stuffed and full core, and the movement of his lips and tongue, you couldn’t help but lose control, crying out his name as your hips bucked up to meet his mouth, your sensitive walls clenching against the unyielding hardness of the toy.

You couldn’t see the grin on his face, you could only let out a stuttering gasp as you felt the toy being carefully slid out of you, followed by the soft rumble of his voice.

“Are you still alright, my love?”

“Yes.” Your voice was the barest of whispers, between panting breaths.  You felt the warmth of his body against yours, as he leant over you to tug on the silken fabric covering your eyes and toss it aside.  You blinked up at him, eyes dark, and he dipped down to kiss you, the taste of your own juices on his lips.  You raised your hands to thread your fingers through his hair, and this time, he didn’t correct your little act of defiance.

He pulled away from the kiss as he shifted his hips and you felt pressure against your dripping entrance again, every bit as rigid as the toy had been, only warmer.  Your gaze met his as you lifted your thighs to wrap them around his waist, and he reached a hand down to guide himself into you.  Thanks to the toy, you were more than ready to take him and with one strong thrust, he sank deep inside you, as you gasped out his name at the welcome intrusion, the prickle of the Sussur magic like an itch that you desperately wanted scratched.  He settled into a steady rhythm, massaging against your tingling walls, listening to the sounds of you whimpering beneath him, as your pleasure built again.  He moved to kiss his way down your neck, to your chest, the places he’d touched with the wood still more responsive.  You arched your back up to him as he took a nipple in his mouth, your hands gripping his shoulders, your thighs gripping his sides.  He felt your wet heat quivering around him.

“I want to feel you shatter over me, my love.”  he whispered breathlessly.  He deftly slipped a hand between your bodies, positioning his thumb to rub tight circles on your clit.  You moaned as he increased his pace, pounding into you, eyes closed in pleasure as he brought you to that edge, and tipped you over, your walls clenching hard around him.

His lips crashed against yours again, muffling the way you were about to scream his name; his tent might have been farthest away from the campfire, but you still didn’t need everyone else hearing you.  A few last deep thrusts and you felt him tense and pulse within you, following you in ecstasy.

He lay there on top of you for a few moments, as your hearts both slowed and your breathing became less ragged.  He wrapped you in his arms to roll you both to your sides, and you felt him slip out of you as he softened, a rush of warm liquid over your thighs.

“I wouldn’t want to crush you, my heart.”

“Would be one hell of a way to go.” you grinned, tilting your chin to kiss him gently.

He reached to the side for a cloth and some water, and carefully wiped the mess of your combined fluids gently off the both of you, also taking a moment to clean the carved wooden toy.  Once he was satisfied, he laid himself alongside you, and pulled a blanket up to cover you both.  Warm, strong arms wrapped around you to pull you in close, and you closed your eyes as he nuzzled against your neck.

“Sweet dreams, my heart.” he murmured.

[myownwholewildworld]

13. DEATHROW

chapter 12 | ao3 | series masterlist | chapter 14

pairing: post-outbreak!joel x f!reader. summary: tommy's ill-placed trust brings you to an impasse. a/n: uhmmm... hi... the only thing i'm going to say is that i'm really sorry. please know that writing this chapter took an emotional toll on me and was crying towards the end. if you're sensitive to certain topics, please heed the warnings. i will tell you though that there will be a happy ending, i promise. as always, i appreciate comments, reblogs and likes, and if you do all three, i'll treasure you forever. take care, lovelies <3 x warnings (spoilers!!): 18+, mdni. some fluff until it isn't. explicit gore, violence, murder. miscarriage. angst and grief. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 37. no use of y/n.  joel’s and reader’s pov. dividers by @\saradika-graphics w/c: ~5.2k. taglist aka the drama wagon at the end of the chapter (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!)

“Fuck, no,” you grunted, turning the keys in the ignition while your other hand tightly gripped the steering wheel.

The Jeep’s motor spluttered, wheezing as you tried to bring it back to life. Pressing on the gas pedal, you spun the key around again to no avail.

Last night you should have checked on the battery. Having thought about it and then not doing it was infuriating, but at the same time you couldn’t blame either Joel or yourself for it.

You both had been so focused on the conversation, your fears being washed away, that preserving the life of the car battery had dropped several spots in your list of things to worry about. It wasn’t every day that Joel opened up to you, so when he did, you hadn’t dared stop him.

Despite the simmering fear under the surface of your skin, the excitement outweighed everything else. A much-needed ray of happiness among the darkness. Even though it was still too early, you couldn’t wait to welcome this baby into the world. To introduce them to Joel. Imagining him holding your baby, nestled in his arms, him pressing a soft kiss on their forehead…

Your chest swelled with emotion, a wave of warmth overwhelming you, filling your core. You definitely couldn’t wait.

And yes, there were infinite threats out there, but you and Joel would keep them all at more than arm’s length. This baby would be loved, protected. Joel would not let anything happen to any of you, but neither would you ― you would do absolutely anything and everything for them. Whatever the cost.

A big part of you was sure that Tommy would do nothing with the information he had unearthed about you. After all, he was your friend and Joel’s brother. You liked to think that, despite how he ditched you both when you were bit back in Chicago, he still cared about the both of you. Having spent months with him in the wilderness, he had been like the big brother you never had. Always the older sister, you never had someone looking out for you when you were younger. Tommy had filled that part in a sense, albeit briefly.

Joel, on the other hand, was keen on leaving, hence why you were trying to resuscitate the Jeep. Blamed how his brother had changed solely on Laney. And although you agreed that Laney had been an extremely bad influence on Tommy, she could not be the only culprit here. Tommy had decided, of his own free will at first, to get involved with that group, to drown his sorrows in alcohol and harder drugs.

But he would do nothing that would put Joel or you in harm’s way. Despite it all, he was a good person, just a tad lost. Tommy would eventually find his way back to his brother, to family. You were darn sure he would make an amazing uncle.

Grunting, you jumped out of the car, keys dangling from your gloved fingers. Trudging towards the cabin, Joel came down the steps to meet you halfway through in the overgrown path.

“Any luck?”

“Nope, sorry,” you apologised although were not sure why. You handed over the keys. “I should’ve checked the battery last night.”

You unintentionally pursed your lips in frustration, but Joel’s thumb brushed over your bottom lip to soften the gesture. Your eyes flickered to his as his fingers splayed across your jawline.

“I could’ve checked too and didn’t. This ain’t on you, baby,” Joel reassured you. “We’ll find an alternative, don’t worry.”

You pecked the fingertip of his thumb, which earned you one of his lopsided smiles, tiny dimples sinking in his cheeks. Joel was always a sight to see, handsome as he was, but when he grinned, his whole expression shifted. The worry would ease its grip on him, the crow’s feet around his eyes accentuating and the skin on his lips tensing into a boyish smirk.

No wonder he had such an effect on you. Couldn’t be any other way. Because Joel Miller was gorgeous on the outside, but it was his heart what you treasured most about him. His passion, his predisposition to help those who needed him, his good intentions, his kind nature towards you was what stole your heart.

Yes, he could be a huge prick sometimes, but it was out of fear, of love. Not that it was a good excuse for some of his behaviour, but you knew he was trying his best.

“What’s crossing your mind?” he probed, sensing your absent-mindedness.

You shrugged, a half-smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Nothing, just mentally listing the reasons why I love you,” you whispered as he bowed down, replacing his thumb with his mouth.

“Oh, yeah? I bet it’s a long list. Care to share?” Joel taunted you, lips moving against your as he spoke.

You chuckled, slapping his shoulder playfully as you stepped back.

“Stop being a flirtatious tease, Miller. You’ve already knocked me up, you don’t need to impress me anymore,” you joked.

His hand slipped to yours and pulled you into his hard, broad chest. You couldn’t help but titter when his arms wrapped around you in a bear hug. Joel kissed the crown of your head, his palms sliding down your back until both cupped your ass to press you on him.

His mouth made its way to yours lazily, his lips prying yours open with ease. The tease of his tongue swirling around yours pulled all air out of your lungs, his wet warmth pouring into your thirsty mouth. His tongue retreated and you whimpered lowly, for him to lick back in your mouth with ravenous need.

Joel broke the kiss a minute later, gasping for oxygen. You panted as well, slightly flustered.

“I may not need to, but I definitely want to impress you every single fucking day of our lives together until death do us part,” his tone grew darker, more intense, as he mumbled such words against the soft skin of your lips.

Your heart jolted, the bare intensity of his promise making you shiver with raw love. Warmth settled in your core, his pledge a reassuring blanket that nothing would break you apart. You knew he meant every single word, which made it even more significant to you. You didn’t think you could ever love someone else the same way you loved Joel ― it would be simply impossible.

Your eyes got glassy, a finger brushing your waterline as you laughed it off, taking a step back.

“Stop it, you’re gonna make me cry,” you said, a chortle loosening the emotion in your voice. “I don’t think I can even blame the pregnancy hormones for that.”

Joel cradled your face, his thumbs stroking your cold, wet cheeks. His brown eyes softened as he leaned in for a chaste kiss this time. Then his forehead rested against yours intimately.

“I do mean it. I love you. And this baby too,” he hummed, one hand drifting down and then up the hem of your padded coat until it landed on the bare skin of your belly. His thumb trailed an invisible line below your belly button. “I don’t think you understand how much, sweetheart.”

You swooned. How could you not when Joel was talking like that? You liked him being so vocal about his love for you, for this baby, because you knew it was rare.

Hugging his neck, fingers laced at the nape of it, you pushed him down for another kiss, his warm palm still stroking the skin over your womb.

“I do understand, because I feel exactly the same. Now stop this before I lose my mind and lock you up,” you laughed against his lips.

“As tempting as that is, you’re right. We need a vehicle,” he sighed loudly, almost exasperatedly, while he stepped back from you. “We’ll go into town, see what we can find.”

“I can stay here with our supplies, so we don’t have to carry everything with us,” you offered.

“No, you’re coming with me. Tommy knows we are here, it isn’t safe anymore. We go together,” his steely tone told you he would not be convinced otherwise.

“Do you really think Tommy would come back and do something rash? I highly doubt it, Joel. He’s your brother, he wouldn’t harm either of us,” you reasoned with him, knowing it was a lost battle.

“It’s not him I’m worried about, but the others he’s with if he opens his goddamn mouth.” He had a point, so you didn’t argue anymore. “We’ll hide some things in those bushes over there, so you don’t have to carry that much weight, and then if it’s safe, we’ll come back to retrieve everything else.”

You nodded, sliding your hand in his and squeezing it.

“Let’s go then, it’s freezing out here.”

Joel’s senses flared the whole time, even the twigs breaking under his heavy boots made the hairs on the nape of his neck stand up. The nagging feeling stalking the back of his mind kept him on edge, checking his surroundings at all times.

Oswego felt alien, otherworldly even. Joel had not set foot on this town for years―decades―and nothing had really changed. But the atmosphere had, the mist adding a layer of mystique to how he perceived it. Being here felt… wrong. His skin bristled at the thought, instantly turning around to check on you. Again.

“Yes, I’m still right behind you, just like the last twenty times you’ve checked, Joel,” you mocked him with a gentle smile in an attempt to ease his uneasiness.

Joel pursed his lips, swallowing the snappy retort. His mood had soured with every step closer to the dam on West River Road. With no cars to be seen, you had to venture further in than what he had anticipated.

“I know, just making sure no one is following,” he said instead.

You did not deserve his spoilt temper.

Slowly coming down the hill, you both got to the asphalt. The dam was on your right, fenced off and in big disrepair. The water was pouring over, the winter almost forcing the river to overflow.

Joel quickly moved to your side, keeping you close to him, as you both walked northwards.

“See that red-bricked building? Tommy once got inside and almost didn’t make it out. He tripped over some bare cables, and they came in contact with water… It was a shitshow,” Joel recalled, trying to get his mind off that nagging feeling that made his skin crawl. “He almost electrocuted, got a nasty burn on his hands.”

“And let me guess, you went after him to try and stop him from being even more reckless,” you added, intertwining your gloved fingers with his.

Joel cocked his head, looking at you askance with a subtle grin. You knew him too well by now.

“Damn right I did. That kid could never be left unsupervised,” he tutted at the memory. “I had to break him out while the guard was chasing us. When our old man found us, he was not impressed.”

You chuckled, a melody to his ears in this decrepit world. Joel loved the sound of your laughter, how easy going you were when worry was not gripping you tight. He gently yanked at your laced hands to push you into his side, his arm quickly draping over your shoulders as you trudged forward through the thick layer of snow.

The light screech of distant tyres made him stop right away, his alertness going through the roof as he turned around to discern where the noise was coming from.

His heart jostled against his chest, blood rushing through his eardrums with anticipation. Danger was nearby, Joel could sense it.

He pushed you towards the trees on your left.

“Go, hide in the woods, but don’t strand too far,” his voice was unusually calm, especially considering how his heart pounded, threatening to break a rib.

“What?” you asked, confused.

“Someone’s coming. Trust me,” he pushed you again, this time with more urgency. “Please.”

Your eyes widened when you heard the car approaching too.

“It can be anyone. Doesn’t have to be―”

“I said go.”

“But you―”

“I’ll keep ‘em busy. I’ll be fine. Go,” he insisted, keeping calm even though the fear bubbling inside him was asking him to yell.

Finally, you nodded, a last squeeze on his hand before you ran towards the cover of the woods.

Drawing a deep breath in, with the coolest demeanour he could muster, Joel faced northwards and kept on walking, pretending he didn’t know you were being followed.

Soon enough, a vehicle approached him from behind, his whole body stiffening in preparation for what was to come. His left hand gripped the leather strap hooked to his shoulder, while the right tested the weight of his riffle’s stock. Blood pumped thick through his veins, mind rushing at lightspeed.

Joel dared to shoot a sideways glance to the trees, checking you were nowhere to be seen. His relief was short-lived when he noticed the trail of imprinted footprints on the snowy, frozen ground, a clear path leading to where you were hiding.

If he could throw up his heart, Joel would have done so there and there. But he couldn’t fix that, not now, so could only pray that whoever was following would not spot them.

Not whoever ― Joel knew who they were, as sure as the sun would rise over the horizon tomorrow morning. You were adamant that Tommy would not give you up, that his little brother would smarter than that. But Joel knew better than that ― knew Tommy too damn well. Although he probably meant no harm, his need to belong, to find his people, was far greater than anything else. A fucking irony, if you asked him ― Tommy had him, had you, but apparently neither of you had been enough to satiate his longing.

It had always been like that though, so why was he surprised? Even as a kid, Tommy would find the shittiest people he could to hang out with, and then it was up to Joel to get him out of dire situations.

A loud honk coming from the car derailed his train of thought. Halting suddenly, the riffle’s strap came off his shoulder, the barrel weighting heavy on his left hand while his right pawed the grip.

Joel slowly turned around to face four people coming out of the Jeep. He recognised Laney straight away, the woman who had gotten Tommy’s head up his own ass. A baseball bat rested on her shoulder. The three man that accompanied her were strangers to him ― all of them had drawn their guns.

Fucking outnumbered, but his coward of a brother was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey there, Joel. Long time no see,” Laney greeted him, a wide smile showing her crooked, yellowed teeth. “Going somewhere?”

Joel eyed his opponents, pondering how to get out of this unscathed. His hand tightened around the riffle’s grip, but he kept it steady. Didn’t want to force a situation he wasn’t sure he could win.

“No, just aimlessly walking around,” he barked back, snappy.

He had no time for pleasantries.

Laney laughed, closing the distance with the three man right on her back.

“I see. Tommy was telling us all about how you have forgotten about Sarah already and decided to replace her with another shot at parenthood. Is that right?” She stopped six feet away from him, her grin spanning across her mouth like a fucking clown.

Her words hit him like a motherfucking lorry. The most primal anger flared his nerves, his vision reddening at the thought of Tommy airing his personal life to fucking strangers. Could he not trust his own fucking blood anymore? Why the fuck would Tommy tell her anything about Sarah?

He wasn’t replacing her. Never could, would never even try ― Sarah was irreplaceable. This baby could never supplant Sarah. He’d love them to death―already did―just as he had Sarah. Tommy should fucking know that.

Displaying the highest forms of control for the sake of you both, Joel stood there, white knuckles under the fingerless gloves. He petted the trigger, wanting to give in to this urge ― the urge to right a wrong. But he had you and the baby to worry about, couldn’t be so reckless.

“Did that clicker you call your girlfriend eat your tongue or what?” one of the men chipped in, snickering at his own tasteless joke.

Of course Tommy told them that too. When would the younger Miller ever learn to shut his fucking mouth up?

“What do you want, Laney?”

“Ah, well, you see…” she shrugged, folding arms. Joel wanted to wipe her smile off her stupid face with the blow of his shotgun. “This is our town now. And we don’t like having fucking pregnant clickers around here, Joel. Have you considered the kind of monster that is gonna come out of her?”

Fury crawled up his throat, closer now to losing his goddamn composure. Joel had to blink a couple of times to clear his vision from the tinge of red buffering around his eyes.

You’re the fucking monster, leave my family alone, you bitch, was what he wanted to yell, but instead forced himself to try and diffuse the situation.

“We’ll leave. There’s nothing here that would keep us in this place,” and by nothing, he truly meant no one.

Tommy’s betrayal stung like a swarm of raging wasps.

“Ditching your brother already? Wow,” Laney cackled like a parrot. Then tutted, her head cocking to one side. “Bit late for that, I’m afraid.”

“Let go of me, you bastard!”

Your high-pitched shriek froze the hot blood running wild in his veins. His head snapped to his right, just in time to see a fourth man dragging you out of the woods, grabbing you by your hair as you kicked like a madwoman to break free.

His heart literally stopped, brain trying to catch up with what was happening. He had missed the moment the fourth guy had diverted from the group to track you down through the snow. And Joel was afraid you would pay for his inattentiveness.

A dense knot swelled in his throat, his lungs straining to get some oxygen in. He couldn’t afford to panic now, nor to lose his goddamn mind, but the urge to give in to desperation was overwhelming.

You were everything he had left in this godforsaken world. Joel couldn’t lose you too, not to his brother’s stupidity.

So he persevered, forcing himself to remain calm. The seconds dragged on like a thread being pulled off a blanket, time standing still the moment that vile man threw you to the floor.

On your fours, you fought for a gasp of air before the same man yanked at your hair again, another painful scream as he forced you on your knees.

“You son of a bitch,” you spat, feeling your scalp pinching with the pull.

For a moment you avoided Joel’s gaze, because you knew what you would find there: helplessness. The same you were feeling right now. But his eyes were burning a hole right through your face ― and you finally met his glare.

Even if he had a tight grip on his composure, you could feel his anger, his guilt, his rage. To someone else Joel might look eerily calm and steadfast, but to you, who had learnt everything there was to know about Joel Miller, he looked like a man in penance.

Your captor slapped you, the blow pushing you onto the frozen ground again. Your skin prickled at the contact, a grunt slipping through your lips ― but that was all you would show them.

Joel moved towards you suddenly, a reaction he could not have suppressed even if he wanted to. But the moment the other three men pointed their guns at him, you regretted him doing it. Luckily, the sound of the firearms being cocked stopped him before he could reach you.

“Look, it doesn’t really need to be this dramatic, Joel. You get in the car, we take care of her, and we drive you to your brother,” Laney spoke as if you were not there.

Why did people had developed the ability to talk about you as if you were an object, as if you were not even present? What the fuck was wrong with people? Had they stopped seeing your humanity because of a fucking bite?

“No, you get in the car and leave, before I kill y’all,” Joel muttered under his breath.

Only when you saw the feral look in his eyes, did your heart start racing. This could only go down one way, because Joel would not let them do anything to you. For his own preservation, you wished he did, so one of you could make it out alive.

Launey laughed, followed by the four men.

“You reckon you can take on the five of us?” she taunted, her teeth becoming yellower with the white background. “You are delusional.”

Joel was not someone who took being challenged graciously. You had seen him unleash his temper before, and how that had turned out for the men who tried to rape you. He had not only killed them both, but then spent hours hunting down every single member of their group on his own.

This, though, was different. Joel had already three guns pointed at him.

You felt the shift in the atmosphere before the rest, the twitch in his jaw alerting you that Joel was at his wit’s end. His pose stiffened almost unperceptively, one finger slowly sliding towards the trigger. He didn’t need to communicate with you ― you knew what was about to happen.

Joel lifted the riffle, turned around promptly, and shot the man who had dragged you out of the woods. His body fell to your side with a muffled thud.

Then hell broke loose, the three men coking their guns at him in an instant, stepping in front of Laney to protect her.

“Don’t kill him, Tommy wouldn’t forgive me,” was her only order.

Two of the men holstered their guns, one of them still keeping Joel at gun point, and lunged forwards towards him. A second shot knocked the second man down, while the other two grabbed at Joel’s shotgun’s barrel. A fight ensued while they struggled to get hold of the firearm.

Your pulse accelerated, forcing you out of your state of shock as you raised to your feet, hand slithering to your back to grab your own gun. You would fight besides Joel even if this was the last thing you did.

Then Laney’s body blocked your vision, the baseball bat swinging in front of your face.

“Where do you think you’re going, you fuckin’ clicker?” were her only words before the bat swayed again, hitting you harshly on the sternum.

Your lungs evacuated all air, leaving you mouthing for a gulp of oxygen. Your knees quivered and you managed to stop the fall, your nails digging in the dirty snow underneath. A second shot of pain ran down your spine when Laney hit your back with all the strength she could muster, and both your arms and legs gave way, your gun falling and dropping a few feet away from you.

Your face kissed the white blanket beneath as you crawled onto your side, still trying to catch a breath, wincing and panting, clutching at your chest. This much pain could only be caused by a broken rib, the stabbing feeling worsening with every breath you tried to get in.

“You’re disgustin’,” Launey snarled before she started kicking you, her boot and the bat taking turns.

She hit you everywhere, but most of the blows landed on your stomach. You crouched down, protecting your head as best you could, while searing pain cursed through your body, sharp and dull at the same time.

You could still hear the struggle between Joel and the two men, and you hoped he would prevail. But you couldn’t wait for him to help you, not with the burning cramps taking hold of your whole body. Another minute of this beating and Laney would end up smashing your skull open ― it was only a matter of time.

Through the agony, the worst pain you had ever endured, you rolled onto your back as the woman kept on hitting you with boots and bat. Not the best idea, but it was your only chance to reach for your gun on the ground.

Laney was so focused on you, she didn’t even notice the moment your fingers wrapped around the grip of your forgotten gun. With no hesitation, your finger slid to the trigger, and pressed it.

The bullet lodged right between Laney’s brows ― a millisecond later, she fell on her back.

You drew in a breath, then a trembling sigh escaped your lips, trying to slow down your heartbeat. A cloud of mist lingered in front of your mouth. Closed your eyes for a minute, trying to reign in the pain coursing through your being.

Tilting your head to one side, you saw the last two men on the floor. Joel was on top of one, fisting and punching his face until his head cracked open. A pool of blood tinted the white snow, and only when his brains were spilling over onto the ground, did Joel sit back and look in your direction.

You saw the fog lifting off his mind, his rage forgotten the moment he landed eyes on you. Those brown orbs you loved suddenly widened with fear and his face expression completely transformed into anguish.

“Baby, no,” he whispered with despair, crawling his way to you.

“It’s okay,” you mumbled the moment he reached you, helping you sit up and hugging you so tight you feared he might break the last of your ribs. “Joel, I’m fine,” you reassured him.

All your body ached just as if you had been put through hell, but you were alive.

“No, no, no, no,” was everything he could murmur, his lips pressed onto your temple. His breath so warm it was soothing. “No, no… can’t be… I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Oh God, please forgive me. I’m sorry…”

Joel started to rock back and forth still holding you, his eyes so broad and glassy you knew you were missing something.

That was when you looked down and saw the blood staining your jeans where your inner thighs met, leaking through the fabric onto the snow underneath.

For a second you didn’t―couldn’t―understand what was happening, why you were bleeding so profusely.

And the moment it hit you, your lungs tore apart with the loudest scream you had ever let go of.

Joel saw realisation dawning on you, your eyes a window to your instantly broken soul. He cradled your face so you would only look at him. You almost wrestled with him, trying to get up, but his arms kept you bound to him.

The void in his chest grew bigger and bigger with every screech and cry you emitted, breaking him down until tears spilt over his waterlines. This couldn’t be happening ― losing another child. One he had only started to love; one he had let himself wish and hope for. One he promised he would protect at whatever cost. The idea of a family with you, snatched away in the blink of an eye.

He had tried getting to you the moment he saw Laney approaching you, tried to attack her, but the two men had tackled him to the ground and beat him almost to death. Only got a tiny reprieve when he saw you kill Laney before one of the attackers struck him in the head. Then Joel’s instincts kicked in and didn’t simmer down until they were both dead.

Joel had been so focused on eliminating the last two threats, he hadn’t stopped to check on you ― his survival instinct too strong to ignore. Now hated himself for it, for letting Laney get to you, do this to you.

Because of his ineptitude and tunnel vision, you had miscarried. He had not been able to protect you, this baby of yours. Just as he had not been able to protect Sarah almost two years ago. He was a motherfucking failure.

But he couldn’t break, not now when you needed him the most. He had to be strong for the both of you, because your pain was much, much greater than his.

“Baby, don’t look,” he begged you, palms framing your face while his thumbs swept away your tears. “Please, don’t look.”

“J-Joel!” you wailed, your arms draping around his trunk and burying your face in his coat. “No… our baby…”

His hand landed on your crown, pressing you gently onto his chest, his dead heart breaking a tad more.

Joel pressed a kiss on your forehead.

There were no words to describe the loss, the grief for someone none of you would ever meet. Would they be a baby boy or a baby girl? What would they look like? Would have they taken after you or him? Would have they grown to be a happy, chirpy toddler? Their first steps, their first words ― so many firsts gone, firsts neither of you would ever witness.

You both remained there for what felt like hours, Joel hugging you tight, rocking you in an attempt to calm you down, calm himself down too.

Only when the bitter cold started to filter through your clothing, making you shiver, did Joel help you stand up. His arms slipped under your body, and he carried you to the car while you cried your loss in the crook of his neck. Made sure you were comfortable on the seat, put your seatbelt on, and jumped into the driver’s side.

Joel was a man on a mission. Not on a hunting mission―Tommy was dead to him―but on a mission to get you to safety so he could tend to you.

Little did it matter how much he was hurting. Your sobs had quietened down, your face tilted towards the window. On the reflection he could see the dried tears on your soulless eyes, but the moment they drifted down to your lap, you started quietly crying again.

He felt so damn helpless, the only thing he could do was to remove his coat and place it on your lap. He tugged at you again, embracing you without speaking a word. You hugged him back, silence lingering between the both of you, grieving together.

Time was a funny thing, because neither of you realised that darkness had begun to win over the light. With the night approaching, he needed to find somewhere safe to bunker down. After what felt like hours, he kissed your forehead and sat back up on the driver’s seat.

The vehicle roared alive, and Joel pressed the gas pedal like a man on death row.

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981 @fancyyoouu

@smolbeanzzz @guelyury @bishtrouille @harriedandharassed

@thepalaceofmelanie @eternallyvenus @theoraekenslover @vickie5446

@hiroikegawa

[tusswrites]

Some Nights (h.j)

🫢pairing: hong joshua x reader

🫢synopsis: when laundry day takes a turn for the worse—fast

🫢genre: fluff, crack; rating: 16+

🫢word count: 1.7k+ (supposed drabble whoops)

🫢warnings: mentions of death, but it's not that serious (sorry to whoever died in the fic, you were there just for the plot) T.W: self-harm mentions, but reader misread the situation okay? nothin happened fr.

🫢a.n. : I was upset I didn't have a Joshua fic, but apparently a small dig into my trove and I had an old fic I never thought would see the light of the day, because it was a private fic to shu @welcometomyoasis . Anyway it does see the light on his birthday so HAPPY BIRTHDAY Joshua. See you down south for more notes.

check out the masterlist here!

Pedal to the metal, your mind whirs out the last few days of conversation, pulling out each molecule of the word that you’ve exchanged with him, trying to come up with some memory to nail his soon-to-be fatal. action. What could drive him to the ledge on this starry night you think? A leviathan of worry has blossomed from deep within, your mind cannot rest till you reach him right this instant. 

“Pick up. Pick up. Why are you not picking up, Hong Joshua?” It’s unlike him to avoid your calls. You were his priority; there’s never been a moment you’ve doubted that. His phone could only be unlocked with your face—much like parts of him were hidden away, only you were able to fathom what he truly felt. When his hums turned noncommittal, when the nods lost fervor, and when the smile ceased to reach his eyes, you knew it was time for lockdowns in the apartment. You and he, paired out in couple pajamas, matching each other's quirks in absurd face masks and cucumbers, binging reruns of The Real Housewives.

“I wish that this all would end” What would end? Is this what it’ll trickle down to? Were your movie nights pointless? Did prancing around in matching oversized tees and going pantless, holding concerts in the kitchen with spatulas as microphones mean nothing to him at all? Where did this even start for it to end like this?

 “I could use some friends for a change”

Is that what this is? Has he gotten into a kerfuffle with his bandmates? Did the recent rumors and blatant lies spread by the press cause rifts between his friends? And what about you? Did his random middle-of-the-night calls from a foreign country because he couldn’t fall asleep without hearing your sweet voice, (never mind the fact that you were time zones away) mean nothing to him? 

“I'm scared you'll forget me again” For that, you wanna smack right across his face hopefully slapping the stupid away in a blatant show of violence. How could anyone ever forget him? How could he ever think you would forget him? Doesn’t he know he’s etched in your heart forever? No man’s ever plowed this deep within the minefield of your heart, bringing to light parts of you that you feared would be a bother. Time and time again, he’s made you understand that you were never a bother to him, that he truly loves you, why else would he entertain your silly dissections at the ass crack of dawn?

 “I still see your ghost”

Now this is the part at which you had rattled, thinking no further to read more of the darned note, instead choosing to grab your keys and run to Pledis this very second, Hybe’s tight security be damned. The past few weeks were not easy on your boyfriend. A crazed fan had started a fabricated lie about Joshua and his ‘alleged’ girlfriend, and in no time he was under the scrutiny of the public eye. Protest trucks were sent to Hybe, stalkers greeted him at every corner during the late-night walks he took to cool off from the craziness he had to encounter in the day, the press was merciless and his fans betrayed his trust with malicious posts. You watch as the man you love becomes a shell of himself, doubting his every move, not even able to withstand making a silly joke or sparing some couple-times. You were every bit the understanding girlfriend

To top it all off with the scandal, he had lost his childhood best friend too. A tragic death that could have been avoided. Joshua blamed himself and his aloofness for his best friend's untimely decease even though you had reassured him that was not the case. Odd hours during the night he’d wake up crying, consoled only by you.He needed intimate proximity and tight hugs, you could get by that. When the outside world was tumultuous and the mind offered no peace to his turmoil, you’d crawl under his sweatshirt, greedily hogging up his body heat, comforting him, your head over his heart- another soul to listen to the racing beats reverberating the ones in his crazed mind. “I still see him and feel him, you know? It’s like he never left. His ghost follows me around wherever I go.” He’d confessed one night after waking up in a cold sweat jerking you violently awake. No amount of soothing words could dulcify him that night. You’d listened to him sob the night away gasping for deep breaths, curled up around your stomach.

 But that was a month back. You had forced him to go for grief counseling and slowly he was opening up, and getting better. The mirth in his eyes was slowly returning and you had hope that your boyfriend was feeling more of himself.

Except for today. You had caught onto a piece of paper that had flown out when you were whisking through his pant pockets while doing laundry. Words that had frozen you in place before kickstarting your flight response. Which is why you were here, pulled up in front of his dorms after a quick call with Jeonghan, owing to which you didn’t have to show up to Hybe. Without any words you barged into his room, thanking Hannie silently for the foresight to clear out the dorms letting you have your moment with Joshie. You are a little surprised to see him snoring on his bed as if he hadn’t just caused you a cardiac arrest. Unsure how to express your feelings—let alone with love instead of violence—you leap onto the bed and land on his stomach, knocking the breath right out of him. “Umph-” His eyes have widened into huge boba balls staring into your brown orbs as if you were a lunatic. Which, in hindsight you were. You did attack a sleeping person but you can explain yourself okay? With punches probably. “Y/N can you please- What is happe- Why am I- Is this a-” His words were slurred, sleep still hanging onto his droopy eyes but all the more befuddled at your crazy actions. Slowly you see his brain catching up to him trying to thwart your steady influx of punches.

“What the hell is going on” “I’ll tell you what the hell is going on Joshua Hong. It’s you and my poor heart. What am I going to do when you leave me to take care of my shattered heart. Didn’t you promise me forever? And now you choose to leave me? “When did I-?” “You think this is funny. Writing a suicide note and shocking-” “Suicide note?”

“Don’t try to act like you didn’t, making me look like a fool here.-” “Literally what the fu-” ‘You said to be ready for an engagement ring soon, we mapped the stars and painted out our children-” “Y/N love, would you please calm down?” His hand was placed over your palm effectively shutting you up and forcing you to stop yourself mid-rant. But your eyes worked just fine and so you sent out beams of anger waves at him “Alright let’s go one by one."

“What note?”

You thrust the creased-up tidbit to his awaiting hands, indignance written all over your face. You gaze inquisitively at your boyfriend of five years poring over his handwriting, reading whatever the hell he had written. Way too quick for you to catch up, you see his wrinkled brow straightening, only to furrow and deepen as he escaped into a cacophony of laughter. Was he laughing? At your misery? After what he had just done? Does he think this is a joke?

“Hong Joshua you better have an explanation for this or help me go-” “Baby, these are song lyrics” WHAT?? “Seriously, do these words not ring a bell to you?”

Snatching back the paper from his hand you read over the words one more time except this time from some part of your brain, music played and you held your breath as the lyrics of ‘Some Nights’ by Fun began to play in your head.

Well, some nights, I wish that this all would end

'Cause I could use some friends for a change

And some nights, I'm scared you'll forget me again

Some nights, I always win (I always win)

But I still wake up, I still see your ghost

Oh Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for, oh-ohYou peer back up at your boyfriend who was trying his hardest to hide his grin. But he wasn’t the stronger soldier today because very quickly he began to guffaw, head thrown back- an arm around his chest clutching his pecs. You hate this cocky bastard.

“Aww baby, were you worried about me? “ “Asshole”

“Come on now, why are you lying? You came into this man cave you had sworn to never step foot into just because you were worried about me. Oh my God wait till Hannie finds out about this.” “Please don’t tell him. He’s never gonna stop teasing me.” You grumbled.

“Wow please? Means you are that mortified.” You say nothing. He is true. Once Jeonghan finds out the whole reason you had bribed him and the rest of the band with free dinner to hold an intervention was over a song lyric, you are never going to hear the end of it. “No baby, don’t look embarrassed. It’s cute that you care about me. I am truly touched. Come, we have some time to ourselves, what do you propose we do?” “Movie Night?” you ask softly. ‘Is that all you want?” “I am okay with anything as long as it’s with you.” You supply back to him.

“Aww I worried you quite a lot huh? You are never this nice.”

“You seem to be unsatisfied with the movie night proposition. Do you have any plans in mind?”

“Oh wow, she remembers her manners. Thank you for asking, baby. I was thinking, let’s do our skin care. I got some sample masks. And while our eyes are closed, let’s, I don’t know, listen to some music by Fun- Ahh I was kidding please stop attacking me. l take that back.”

Too late for that. He’s dying in your hands tonight.

-*-*-*-*-*-finished-*-*-*-*-*

A.N: Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me. Based on an irl story. Hehehe.

Comment below/ Send an ask to be added to the taglist.

@skzbangchanniee @ariananotgrandeee

Also, please listen to 'Some Nights' by Fun! Aju nice song it is 🫢!

[howlingday]

I freaking love alabastards so much! Its like vol 1 Weiss and Jaune who got tired of taking shit for being too nice!

I so need more!

Would it be too much to ask for Alabastards on winter break or something?

"Hello, Arc."

"Weiss."

"How is your winter break?"

"Good. Yours?"

"My winter break is also going well." Weiss turned away. "Not that you'd know anything about proper grammar anyways."

"Oh, really? Is that because I'm too poor to talk good, or is it because you're so bad at being a good person you have to make up for it?"

"Bite me, Arc."

"Make me, Schnee."

The two sneered at each other until they noticed they were getting looks from their teams. Reeling back, the two parted. How and why the two were always found at odds, no one was truly certain. Maybe one had said something to offend the other, or perhaps there was a meeting they had before Beacon that soured their relationship long before it could begin? It was difficult to say.

Regardless, today was Non-Descript Winter Holiday and the two had promised to bury the hatchet, if only for the day. Weiss had bought gifts for each of her friends on Team JNPR, and Jaune, while Jaune used his skills to craft personal gifts for his friends on Team RWBY, and Weiss. As the two sat down with their friends, gifts were exchanged between each of them.

Weiss gifted Pyrrha jacket with a liner, both skillfully embroidered with her name. Nora got a quirky device that allowed her poor syrup through a glass tube onto her pancakes, like some kind of breakfast alchemist. Ren received a new apron to wear should his other need to be washed, this one featuring the words "I'm Not On The Menu". Jaune didn't open his gift.

"And why not?"

"Because I don't want to."

"Excuse me?"

"Knowing you, you probably put a cheap gag gift in here to spite me."

"Do you really think so low of me?"

"Do you?"

"...Fine. Then I refuse to open mine."

"Fine by me."

The rest of the party sighed, choosing to move on to other gifts. Jaune's gifts were hand-crafted with love... or friendship, if love was too much of a stretch. Yang got a bag for her boxing gloves that had "Chorld Wamp" stitched into them, making her giggle. Blake was given a couple sheets of paper with personal poems written front and back, some in haiku. Ruby got a coffee mug cozy, yarned and darned with black and red. Weiss, much like Jaune, refused to open hers.

"I don't care."

"Neither do I."

"I'll just open mine later."

"Or never." She scowled at her gift in disgust. "Knowing you, you probably put something disgusting in here, like a photo of yourself."

"Ha ha." Jaune groaned, standing up. "I'm going to call it a night."

"Oh, did I hurt your feelings by not opening your shitty gift?"

"No, I'm just tired. Not everything is about you, Weiss." Before Weiss could retort, Jaune had already left out of the room, gift in hand.

"Weiss, that was really mean." Ruby whined.

"Very mean." Pyrrha added. "You were both supposed to not be hostile this evening."

"Why am I the bad guy?" Weiss gestured to where her foe made his exit. "He was ruder than I ever was!"

"You were both rude." Yang answered, pointing a finger at the heiress. "You both promised to play nice during winter break, and you both broke that promise on the most important day of the entire break. You ruined it for everyone."

"I did not ruin Non-Decript Winter Holiday." Weiss rolled her eyes. "He ruined it."

"I'm gonna hit her." Nora said.

"Please don't." Ren replied.

"The least you could do is open his gift." Blake offered.

"It it'll make you guys feel better, then fine!" Weiss opened her present. "But do you really think anything he got me will make me say... Oh my god..."

--------------------------------------------------

Jaune held his present in his hand, fully unwrapped and, begrudgingly, impressed. Inside the box was a camera. High quality, too. He fiddled with the buttons, the zoom, the lighting, the timer. Everything was so smooth and easy to play with. He didn't want to admit, but this was probably the best gift he'd ever.

"Jaune, open up." Jaune looked up to the knocking at his door. Opening it, he found Weiss holding his gift to her. "What the hell is this?"

"Your present." Jaune answered, making Weiss scowl.

"You know what I meant." She shoved past him and set the binder on his desk, pushing the gift box to the side. The binder was pure white and decorated with a single sticker of Beacon Tower, something purchased in the school store as a memento. Opening the binder and flipping through the pages, each of which were decorated with printed photos from Jaune's scroll. "You have every single person we've known in this binder."

"Yeah?" Jaune said with a raised brow. "That's how photo albums work, don't they?"

"Everyone we've known EXCEPT for the two of us! Why?"

Jaune blinked, looking at her like she'd suddenly turned into a creature of Grimm. "Because you hate me?"

"I don't- I never-" She groaned. "Just because I don't like you doesn't mean I hate you."

"No," Jaune agreed, "but you insulting me at every turn and being an overall bitch to me does."

"Only because you're an asshole to me." Weiss growled before sighing. "Look. Here's what's going to happen. We are going to fix this. You are going to take a picture of us and put it in this binder."

"Why should I listen to you?"

"Because if you don't, I'm going to kick your ass before the others do."

"The others?" Jaune blinked. "Why are they going to kick my ass?"

"Because they think we ruined the winter break for them."

Jaune was quiet for a moment. "I mean, we did."

"Yes, we did, and exactly the point. So take that fancy camera I got you and take my pic-" CLICK! Weiss blinked a couple of times as her vision was still blurred from the sudden flash. "Argh! You asshole!"

"What? I took your picture." Jaune showed off the photo on his camera with a shit-eating grin. "See?"

"Delete that." Weiss ordered.

"No." Jaune refused without dropping his smile.

Weiss opened her mouth to say something, then heaved a sigh. "Fine. Just... don't do anything weird with it. That's all I ask."

"Okay?" Jaune looked to his camera and pressed a button. "There, I deleted it."

"Oh." Weiss then watched Jaune turn on the light and pulled the chair to the center of the room. "What are you doing?"

"Setting up the shot." Jaune said off-handedly. "You want our picture taken, right?"

"Yeah, but-"

"No buts, except yours in this chair." Jaune chuckled.

"Ugh, you're worse than Xiao Long." She seated herself in the chair.

"I doubt it." Jaune lifted and lowered the camera repeatedly while crouched next to the desk before he grabbed a textbook and set the camera on top of it. "Okay..." He ran up to Weiss, taking place behind her. "Smile."

"Why?"

"It's your picture."

"Are you smiling?"

"Yeah."

"Bull."

"I am."

"...Fine." Weiss smiled and the camera flashed as she did. Jaune ran up to the camera and looked it over. He grinned. "What?"

"Nothing. I just look really good in this."

"Let me see." Weiss looked at the photo and immediately frowned. "You made a stupid face."

"I was smiling."

"You were making a stupid face while smiling."

"Well, do you want to take another one?"

Weiss thought for a moment, then nodded. "No stupid pictures this time."

--------------------------------------------------

Weiss opened her photo album, much time had passed since she'd opened it. Many more memories were captured in time and held in place right there inside her book. Her favorite page was the one with all of her favorite photos. The ones filled with her making goofy faces with her husband, Jaune Arc.

Happy Non-Descript Winter Holiday

[aramynx]

ALL IS FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR

KATSUKI BAKUGO X READER

You and Katsuki have known each other since middle school, and have always notoriously been at each others' throats as naturally gifted students. Things take a frustrating turn when you both end up at UA, as those darned teenage hormones begin to run high…

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

previous • part 5 • part 6 [in the works!]

You started your school day as you did any other- by changing your shoes in front of your locker. Today, however, was different since a folded piece of paper fell to the ground when you took out your shoes. Curiously, you crouched down and picked up the small white rectangle, closing your outdoor shoes into your locker before unfolding it. The page was covered is countless scribbled-over half-written words, eventually leading to the intended message.

“Meet me on the roof after school. Urgent.”

You’d recognise that scrappy handwriting as Katsuki’s any day. You were glad he wanted to talk to you- finally- but it was… kind of ominous. Especially after last night’s encounter. Either way, you looked forward to finally getting some answers from Katsuki.

Your head turned as the locker beside yours closed loudly, Izuku's scared hands locking it up before speaking to you.

"Good morning, Y/N!" He spoke cheerfully, greeting you with his smile, "How are you?"

"I'm doing okay, what about you?" You responded, folding the note back up and putting it into your pocket, "Have you figured out anything new about your quirk yet?"

You and Izuku began to walk towards the 1-A homeroom among the busy hallways. Izuku chattering away about what he knew about his quirk, detailing every last bit to you, which you made sure to take note of mentally. The air was slightly chilly this morning, a draft from the large windows breezed past your ear as a reminder of the cold winter that was quickly approaching. The day dragged on, each minute feeling agonisingly long until the final bell rang, followed by Aizawa's usual dismissal speech. It was around 5pm now, the sun beginning it's descent into the horizon as you trudged up the stairs, ready to meet Katsuki just as he had asked you to.

You opened the doors to the roof, turning the corner to meet a slouching figure, slightly taller than you even with his terrible posture, hands in his pockets as he glared towards you with determination, or maybe he was angry? It was a look that you weren't familiar with, but you weren't worried- Katsuki wasn't just going to beat the crap out of you without saying anything.

"So... You're ready to talk?" You started, rocking back and forth on your feet awkwardly as Katsuki remained silent for a moment before a shaky exhale left his lips.

"I'm pissed off." Katsuki sighed, hands trembling inside his pockets.

"No shit, Sherlock, wanna tell me why?" You retorted, crossing your arms and leaning against the wall beside you. Despite being happy to finally speak to Katsuki, it didn't negate your feelings of frustration towards him, which you were glad to express to him.

"You piss me off." Katsuki said, looking you directly in the eye.

"So you just wanted to rub it in my-"

"Y/N. Just shut your damn mouth and let me talk." Katsuki said, raising his voice ever so slightly as he cut you off.

He sighed again, this time his lip quivered slightly. Once again he thought his heart was going to explode, and his words were getting balled up in his throat so much that it was beginning to hurt. You stood up straight, dropping your arms to your sides as you faced him, waiting in quiet anticipation.

"Being around you... makes me weak." He managed to spit out, averting his eyes to the ground.

"Whenever you talk to me, it feels like I'm on edge. You being near me makes my palms sweat and my stomach feels like it's turning inside out. It pissed me off, so I stopped talking to you, hoping it would stop."

As you were about to ask what he meant, he caught your attention with his eyes, red and piercing as ever as a slight scowl perked up on his lips.

"But I just can't get your damn smile out of my head." He said, hands clenching harder in his pockets, so distracted by his newly expressed feelings that he didn't notice that you had stepped closer. "Seeing you with that Half'n'Half bastard really pissed me off! I can't fuckin' stand you hanging around Deku instead of me! I can't fuckin' stand not talking to you any more, even if you do try and piss me off on purpose!"

"Katsuki." You said softly, understanding what he was trying to tell you. You were standing close in front of him, enough to hear his shaky breaths.

"I'm... an idiot for thinking that ignoring you would make my feelings for you disappear. I get it if you don't want to talk after this." He said quietly.

There was no way in hell you'd still want to be friends with him after everything he had said, everything he had done. He knew he couldn't sit on these feelings any longer. He was glad he told you, but unsure of what the outcome would be.

What he didn't expect was the feeling of your soft lips pressed against his cheek, a slight blush spread across his cheeks. He skipped a breath, forgetting to exhale until the warmth of your lips was drawn away from his skin.

"I like you too, you know." You said, confidently sporting a teasing smile, "You should take me on a date as compensation for being an asshole about it though. Maybe you can be my boyfriend afterwards."

Katsuki sighed, a small smile tugging at his lips as he put a hand firmly on your head, pushing you back slightly as he began to walk past you, knowing you'd catch up to walk next to him. As his hand dipped back into his pocket, you weaved your arm through the gap, locking arms to walk alongside him, causing him to flinch slightly.

"You're such a pain in my ass." He smirked, "I'm gonna take you somewhere nicer than that damn hovel Half'N'Half took you to."

"Oh yeah?" You teased, "I dunno, it was pretty great."

"Shut the hell up, I'll prove that I'll be a better boyfriend than he could ever be!" He yelled, earning a small giggle from you.

You smiled as you walked beside him, Katsuki putting on a scowl as you walked through the hallways to keep up his big scary tough guy act despite knowing that he was going to spend the evening blushing into his pillow, knowing that you returned his feelings. You glanced over at Katsuki, snickering at his 'tough guy' face as he grumbled about how he was better than Shoto.

Ah, how you had missed his competitive spirit...

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

taglist: @sikuthealien @bitchyfestivalbouquet @marsoverthestars

[queenburd]

it's not going to let me rest until i write about it, so tonight I want to talk about the TSP2 Expo in Ultra Deluxe, and why it's a thing at all, and what it means about the Narrator, and how deeply self-conscious he is.

The Expo is, and I say this without exaggeration, the Narrator's deep, desperate need to respond to the audience and the reviews from the Skip button ending. They say he's not funny; he makes "a whole lot of gags". He's still reactionary, he makes all of this in response to (and in my mind, in the downtime during) the Skip button, and it's the first thing you can find right after the game resets from the Skip button.

He's not over it.

TSPUD in general is in a big way about the relationship between an artist and their audience. (i swear on my life i've written those words before...) it's about how a creator can and does create for themself but does, on a real level, yearn for an audience to understand and appreciate, while also being scared that people wont get it, and also being scared about "needing" a reaction to begin with.

Create for oneself, sure, but you still want people to like the thing you made. You want them to experience it, this thing you put so much time into. You want them to laugh at the jokes, that's why the jokes are there, and you hope they hit right.

Elements of that have always been in TSP but they're at the forefront of TSPUD and especially all the Expo stuff. Even while the Narrator, in Skip button rants, berates the audience for wanting jokes and gags and bits to distract them, he immediately wants to please. He's yearning to be understood, and he thinks if he can just give the people what they want, then surely they'll find the meaning in his work.

And then there's that darn Bucket. And while the Bucket feels like, at times, a stand-in for the Narrator or a way for him to project, it's easier for me to see him trying to frame Stanley's bond to the Bucket as a parallel to his bond to Stanley, instead of the other way around.

Stanley is the thing that is here in this world and story to comfort the Narrator. But Stanley is also the thing that can crush the Narrator's spirit.

In the Press Conference Ending, Stanley's bold new approach to story-telling gets him lauded, gets him praise. In the Bucket version, he tries to make the Bucket understand him through other people understanding him, and it fails. It scans as the Narrator desperately trying to reach out to Stanley, even as he tries to get adoration from an audience. Stanley only has eyes for the Bucket in the Apartment ending; in the end, the Narrator only has Stanley for company, and he on some level wants Stanley to appreciate him. He asks for feedback in the Games ending. And while nothing will ever really make him happy, there, he still asks.

In the end, Stanley's the only audience that really matters. He wants Stanley to like the things he makes.

"Why did I create Stanley? Was I lonely?"

He was. And the audience he's looking for isn't one he can interact with.

TSPUD is about a creator's relationship with an audience, hoping they will play the game, and like the game, and understand the game, so that they'll keep playing. And the game "ends" when the creator says "okay. I think I'm ready to try something new. for real this time!"

And then he gets pulled right back, because the audience response is just so uproarious. How can you move on from a thing that did, on some level, garner you success? Shouldn't you just stick with the thing that made you successful? But how do you make it better, when it felt like a complete work?

When do you get to move on? When do you make that choice? Will the audience understand? Will they follow you? Or do they just want more of the same?

The answer isn't simple.

[respectthepetty]

The Loyal Pin - Finale

I've waited two weeks for this finale, so I'm jumping straight in because I need three things out of it: a happy ending, Anin wearing pink, and Patricia apologizing to Pin, WHICH IT THE FIRST THING TO HAPPEN!

Pat, who finally gets her name back, is wearing Pink Person Pin's color and giving the best apologizing to Pin who still doesn't fully have her color back.

And now Anin's mom is pawning off the jewelry in case the girls have to go to England, and I have never appreciated fictional color-coded women more in my life.

OUR ALLY! OUR KING! OUR BEST BOY!

As much as Pin was upsetting me with that marriage business, she always shows up for her girl, and no man would EVER get on the floor and beg for mercy like this! THIS IS THE MOMENT!

One thing about Anin is she is always going to be a Blue Beauty regardless of what is happening.

WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?! NO!!!! WE AIN'T GOING OUT LIKE THIS! PIN FINALLY GOT HER COLOR BACK AND HER AUNT/MOM/WHATEVS IS ON HER SIDE NOW! NOOOO!

Wait, a damn minute! What the hell is this all about?

What did this Blue Bitc--Beauty do? Annette, ANSWER ME?!

It's a prank?! What in the MTV's Jackass is this bullshit about?!

AND EVERYONE WAS IN ON IT?!

Anan, on God, you are the only royal I respect in this house because you have been PFLAG's Ally of the Year, and I appreciate you trying to convince your father, but what in the Sam Hill was your sister thinking?!

Pin, beat her! At least slap Annette once. She hasn't worn pink yet, and now this?! I know she is a princess, but if this was French Revolution, Annette would be on thin ice. I'm not saying kill her, but she needs to be scared the same way she keeps scaring you BY KIDNAPPING YOU!

Or give her a ring for her birthday because you love her special brand of crazy. Sure! That works too!

And the whole group is in blue for the Blue Beauty with some pops of pink. Everyone supports her special brand of crazy. Got it!

This feels like a baby shower, so it being a rich lesbian's birthday is making this so pleasurable!

Now, Pat! You just got your name back, and now I want to snatch it away again! What is this, mama? Desserts are your specialty, not decorations. Stick to your strengths, girl, cause this ain't it! AND WHY IS ANIN IN GREEN?! This green has haunted me the entire second half of the show! And now the green AND that little figurine will haunt me forever.

I know I should be happy homegirl is pregnant, but since Anan dropped the fact that he didn't get to marry who he loved, I feel bad for both of them.

They will make this work, but as Anin's mom would say, I'm being really western about this marriage of conventionality.

Alin, were you the Green Girl I was waiting for all along to take this darn color that has haunted me?!

Everyone's cute and in their colors. Alin looks more like Anin and Pin's daughter, and I love that for us.

Pat, I'm still salty toward you, but I'm glad I don't want to fight you anymore because you look so good in your color, and I hate being attracted to people who piss me off. I was never not attracted to you, but it's nice to know I actually like you again too.

Annette, just because you have incorporated more florals and dots into your outfits as a sign that you love Pin doesn't mean you are off the hook for not wearing pink, but I'm going to ignore it right now because MY BABYGIRL IS FREE!!! She can live her life as the bright and beautiful Yellow Yal she was meant to be without a man tying her down! I actually hope Aon is well too.

I don't know how Kuea's wife made the same mistake twice, but more power to that woman for giving that triflin' man two kids.

They are adorable wives, and Pin giving Anin lunch in a pink gingham checkered cloth is adorable, BUT WHERE IS YOUR PINK, ANNETTE?!

Prik, you and Pia were the real ones putting up with these lesbians over DECADES ACROSS CONTINENTS! I hope Annette taught you how to play tennis and drive, so you can run her errands in style.

SHE IS WEARING PINK! ANNETTE IS WEARING PINK! IT'S HAPPENING AND I'M SCREAMING!!!!!

Leave it up to Idol Factory to wait until the last possible minute, literally, to give me the color exchange! Congratulations, everyone got their name back this episode. Good job, Anin!

Pushing the horrible prank aside, the finale was worth the wait and the hour and half runtime. I enjoyed every single episode, and the colors were coloring until the very end (damn you, Idol Factory!), so I do hope it gets the credit it deserves for being the most each episode and doing most of it amazingly well.

Everyone got the ended they needed including our color-coded girls in love.

And I love that.

[tartppola]

Stranded in another world, with no hope of going back or any magic to defend themselves with, this is the anecdote of the Ramshackle Prefect Yuulis Crowley's first week in another world called Twisted Wonderland.

warning : mentions of blood & dissection, didn't beta this so :P a/n : happy april fools :D

It was a chilly morning on the Night Raven College campus, and Sam’s first day coming back to the mystery shop. Oh, how he missed the purple overlay of the wallpaper; the diamond skulls and taxonomy and other knick-knacks that seamlessly blend together to form something quite avant-garde. Speaking of knick-knacks, he remembered that his new stock of goods his ‘friends’ salvaged from who knows where should be arriving today, how exciting!

His feet skipped up and about, the keys he spun around his finger chiming as he hummed a happy tune from the Port of Jubilee. Sam wonders what kind of faces the new first years would make the first time they step into the shop, or when they meet his ‘friends’ for the first time. 

Just as he was about to make a turn from Main Street, he stopped dead in his tracks. There was a pile of huge boxes at the doorstep, that must be his new goods, but there was something else, or rather, someone else. That someone–young enough to be a first year, but not wearing the school uniform–was waiting by the boxes. No student has ever been to the shop this early, and the school hasn’t allowed any of the local townsfolk to visit, so why?

“Excuse me!” Sam called out, making his way towards them, “I’m flattered that a line is already forming, but opening hours aren’t until lunch time!”

They stared blankly at him the moment he stood right in front of them. They held out a clipboard with a delivery receipt that listed the names of various magical supplies 

“I’m here to on behalf of the Headmaster,” Sam barely understood them through their thick accent, “Please double check the receipt and make sure to tell of any errors.”

Since when did the Headmaster hire any couriers.....and one so young at that. Oh well, as long as Crowley’s not breaking any child labor laws, it should be alright, shouldn’t it? The shopkeep noticed that his back grew colder and colder as he went through the new inventory. He stole a small glance at the youth, turning back immediately when he saw how intently their gaze bore through his soul.

“Phew! It’s getting pretty darn cold out here!” The hand that held his keys trembled a bit, “How about we go inside to warm ourselves up a bit?”

He took back his thoughts. This was far from alright.

“--and where do these charms go, Mr.Sam?” 

“By the aisle near the grimoires, next to the paper talismans,”

It’s been nearly half an hour of restocking, yet they haven’t left the store. Sam tried his best to breathe through the awkward atmosphere, but the tension was so thick he could harvest it, bottle it up and sell each for 500 madol. If only such a thing was possible, if only.

“Mr.Sam,” 

He felt his shadow jump to the ceiling at the sound of their voice. 

“What kind of store is this, exactly?” 

“Well, since you’ve seen my wares firsthand, should you be able to tell right away?” He put on an air of faux confidence, hoping they wouldn’t notice. 

“At first, I thought this was a magic supplies store, but none of them back at home sell dangerous herbs like oleander and wolf’s bane. How did you get a hold of this amount of them anyway?”

“Well, what can I say? There’s only so much exotic ingredients you can grow in the botanical gardens,” 

“But, there are also basic necessities like toothpaste and clothes,” They pondered, “Come to think of it, one of the new deliveries was a box of snacks, wasn’t it?”

“That’s what happens when you’re the only tuck shop in one of the most prestigious schools in the world!” He winked, “It wasn’t easy getting ahold of most of the inventory, but you gotta do what you gotta do, don’t you agree?”

A small chuckle escaped their lips, “That’s not a bad mindset for a businessman.”

In the end, no matter how eccentric they initially seemed, a child is still a child. He felt foolish for being so afraid, what could they do when he had his friends by his side?

“By the way,” it was hard to notice how much time passed by, “Shouldn’t you go back to your dorm and change into your uniform? It’s almost time for morning classes.”

“Ah, was Mr.Sam not present during the entrance ceremony? No wonder you didn’t recognize me,” 

There was some word on the street about a fiasco happening during this year’s entrance ceremony, something about the halls being lit on fire by a beast? He couldn’t believe it when  one of the friends that stayed to guard the shop told him about it.

“I was deemed unworthy to be sorted into a dorm, because I possess no magical capabilities whatsoever. It seems that there was an error during the student selection process,”

“Is that even possible?” his suave expression morphed into worry, “Then, why didn’t the Headmaster send you back home?”

“He tried, but the Mirror of Darkness said something along the lines of ‘The place from whence they came from can’t be found in this world’. 

“And so here I am, doing odd jobs and tasks on behalf of the Headmaster, the students and the staff of NRC,” Sam could hear a small sense of pride at their introduction, “I'm more capable than I look, please don’t hesitate to call upon me if you need any assistance.”

Of all the strange things to make their way into his shop, never in a million years would Sam expect an estranged secretary to be one of them, and one that possibly came from another world to boot. He had a feeling that this year was going to be much, much more eventful than any of the years to have come, and he couldn’t wait to see it all unfold.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, little demon,” The shopkeep tipped his hat in a fine, gentlemanly manner, “Make sure to drop by again, ‘till next time!”

The gap of knowledge between the first and second year was indeed a big leap to overcome, Crewel knew how unprepared his puppies were going to be.

But by the Great Seven, oh how much he overestimated them.

The likes of Riddle Rosehearts and Azul Ashengrotto couldn’t possibly make up for the utter incompetence these mutts have, even the students with subpar scores like Savanaclaw’s Ruggie Bucchi and Diasomnia’s Silver looked like geniuses. At best, there are students like Kalim al-Asim, who actually tries, yet their efforts seem to seep out through their ears the moment they leave class, then there’s the unpredictable ones like Floyd Leech.

He remembers how the eel turned in blank test papers, or how he mixes whatever ingredients he finds interesting together, bleeding the chemical supply. 2 days ago, he used up an entire month’s worth of imp spinal fluid during potions class. It’s not as if they were hard to get, but their effects are most potent when freshly harvested. The thought of harvesting it himself made him shudder; sure, he’s seen some grotesque imagery as an alchemy professor, but who knows how long it will take to restock if he made a report to Crowley?

Sigh. Looks like he’ll have to put practical sessions on hold for a while and haggle with Sam.

“Excuse me, is Professor Crewel here?” 

The door to the alchemy lab opened, bringing the professor back to reality. Someone he has never seen before let themself in, a plastic bag in hand. 

“Stay! I don’t recall allowing anyone without a lab coat to enter….!” Realization kicked in once he got a clearer look, “Huh--so it’s you, the magicless stray that caused a riot in the entrance ceremony.”

The sound of a whip resonated through the room, followed by faint chattering and murmurs from nearby students scrambling away from the alchemy lab. 

“Only authorized students and staff are allowed in the lab during school hours, didn’t the Headmaster tell you?” 

Most of his students would cower just by hearing his tone grow stern, yet they remained unfazed. Playing bold now are we? Looks like he’ll have to teach them a lesson. 

“The Headmaster,” they brought the plastic bag to his chest, “said that the lab’s storage room needed restocking.” 

Ah, was that it? Making a child do his job; how much of a slave driver was Crowley? Knowing Crowley’s tardiness, it was probably something he had already spent his paycheck on, although the bottom of the bag was unusually cold. 

Curiosity getting the better of the professor, he untied the knot and opened the bag. His face recoiled, from the shock of seeing the contents. Aurora moth’s scales--he had only requested these a few days ago! Not to mention all of that translucent mucus coating the scales, how long ago were these harvested?

“Is there something wrong, Professor?”

Crewel almost forgot about the intruder standing in front of him, “No, it’s just--this is the first time I've seen them so...fresh. The ones Crowley buys usually come preserved in bottles.”

“That may be because I just harvested them this afternoon,” they said nonchalantly.

“You--You what?!” the professor didn’t even try to mask his disgust, “You did this yourself?”

Their head tilted sideways, akin to a confused child.

“The Headmaster said that the locals needed help with pest control, so I’d thought I’d lend a hand, and they let me do whatever I wanted with the moths as payment, ” Despite having experience with that sort, Crewel’s stomach began to swirl, “The Headmaster gave me permission too,”

A scowl grew on his face. Typically a moth would've been killed humanely before their wings were plucked to relax their ligaments, but seeing the mess clinging to the wing's ends, it's clear that they didn't consider such option. He couldn't decide if they had a strong stomach to withstand seeing large bugs squirm underneath them, or an uneducated fool.

“Professor, are you alright? You look exhausted,” 

He snapped back to reality that instant, rubbing circles around his temple. Pull yourself together, Crewel, he edged himself, you’ve lost your composure twice already. Maybe he just needed a good serving of raisin butter with wine on the side, or a joyride on his prized car. He glanced back at the dismembered wings, at least he got what he wanted. Still, this has never happened before, perhaps if he could take advantage of this situation….

“Tell me, pup. Since you have...the appropriate experience to harvest wings, how good are you at dissecting imps?”

They pondered for a while. It’s the most animated he’s seen of them, “I suppose I do how to extract fluids, their lymph is a versatile ingredient in many types of salves after all. Although it has been a while since I’ve ever needed to.” 

Bingo

“Then, how about spinal fluid?”

It was their turn to be surprised, “I-I’ve never done that on an imp before. Just think of the amount of imps needed to fill a single bottle.”

“Tell you what, pup. Are you interested in a side-job?” 

Without giving them a chance to respond, Crewel tossed a few madol and a map of the campus in their direction, “There are some common imps causing trouble in the college lately coming from who knows where. If you can deal with them, I’ll give you the other half of the payment, and of course--.”

He shoved them a basket full of empty test tubes, slinging it over their shoulder, “Fill every single test tube here to the brim before tomorrow's Science Club activity, I won't take no for an answer.” 

And with that, they were pushed out of the alchemy lab. Spending their first sleepless night in another world catching imps wasn’t on their bucket list. Sighing heavily, they picked up their feet and staggered.

‘I wanted to creep him out a little,’ they thought, ‘but I ended up being the one getting creeped out.’

For such an important place, why did Crowley’s office have to be in a place so out of reach? For all his years in Night Raven College, Crewel always dreaded sending weekly reports to the Headmaster’s office, he could feel his leg muscles ache as he knocked against the two large gates. He peeked inside the office to look for the Headmaster. 

“There you are, professor! What took you so long?” 

There he was, sitting cross-legged on his desk as the portraits of the Great Seven floated up and about. Trein was there as well, as cold as usual and showing no sign of fatigue, peering at him as if he could see through everything. Maybe it was because he had a 20 year head start, either way, it was irritating how he was the only disheveled one.

“I don’t know, maybe it was the countless stairs I have to climb every week to submit a report when you can simply hire a secretary to fetch them for you?” 

The crow simply smiled, already figuring out a solution to Crewel’s ire, “How has the first week of teaching been for you, professors?”

“I don’t know which is greener, the topiary maze in the Heartslabyul dorm, or the new puppies I’m in charge of,” Crewel shook his head. 

“For once, I agree,” the history professor nodded indefinitely, Lucius yawning in his arms, “But that could be said for every first year in the history of NRC.” 

Dire nodded, “Seems like everything’s going smoothly then! I shall leave the future of our students in your capable hands!”

Both professors nodded in response, “As you wish, Headmaster.”

“Although, I’d like to inquire about something,” Crewel spoke up before raising his index finger to the large window. From above, the view of the setting sun looming over the campus could be seen, but his finger specifically pointed to Main Street, or rather;the magicless stray walking to the direction of the alchemy lab, with the basket in hand and the direbeast from before by their side.

“What are we going to do about that?”

Without needing to look, Trein simply closed his eyes, “If what the mirror spoke was true, then that child quite literally has no place to go back to. It comes to question how they even ended up here in the first place."

Crowley rubbed his chin. The ultimate decision lies with him, and honestly, there was nothing stopping him from just shirking them off his feathers and leaving them to fend for themselves, along with the cat-beast that terrorized the entrance ceremony.

"It would undoubtedly stain the reputation of our esteemed college if we just kicked them out," the Headmaster groaned, "Oh, why must I be plagued with such problems!"

"Best of luck to you then, Headmaster Crowley," The two professors turned their heels and left Crowley's office with not a care in the world, leaving him with his worries.

The Headmaster leaned against his chair and sighed against the beak of is mask. Dealing with the child was the last thing he wanted to do at this moment, with their odd mannerisms and such, however...

Being unable to return home wasn't an unfamiliar conundrum to the Headmaster.

Perhaps it's his boundless generosity speaking to him, but there was a pang of heavy emotion in his chest that told him he couldn't simply leave that child, Yuulis, alone. Was it guilt? or maybe atonement? Whatever it was, it overrode the rational side of his brain

Dire Crowley was the type of person to judge a book by it's cover, which is why he was surprised how his new errand runner, or rather, the new Ramshackle Prefect was able to hold up better than he expected. The reports he received from the staff members he had tasked them with helping have been amicable, and his workflow was much smoother now that he had divided the more menial tasks to someone else. He had thought he had envoked the wrath of the Great Seven with the mess that was thrown his way, but surely they were more pliant than they initially seemed, and now Crowley had a reliable aide at his beck and call.

That would've been the end of the story if Crowley's worries ended there.

Perhaps it's his intuition as a mage, one that's been sharpened by many years of experience, but there was something off about the Prefect. It was subtle enough for none of the other professors to pick up on it, perhaps not even the prefect the▅self were aware of it, but Crowley co▅ld fe▅▅ it.

The lingering mi▅▅ma ▅▅ p▅rmea▅▅ from ▅▅em, it ▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅ ▅ ▅▅▅ M▅▅▅l▅ ▅▅ ▅no▅▅ ▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅ , ▅n▅▅d f▅rom the loo▅▅ ▅, if Crowley doesn't get it under control, it might spell disaster for the mages in his beloved college.

They'd succeeded his expectations as a prefect, so why not bestow upon them another act of kindness?

A knock resounded from the door to the Headmaster's office, before creaking open. Under the candles that lit the office dimly, the prefect looked like one of the many ghosts that toiled in the campus.

"Apologies for the delay," they nodded, curtly greeting the Headmaster, "It took a while to convince Professor Trein to let me into the library archives, but I got what you asked for."

"It can't be helped, I suppose. The lecture he gave me that time still rings in my ears," Crowley picked the bundle of files off of Yuulis' hands.

"Rightfully so," the monotone in their voice wavered, "With all due respect, I don't see why what you did was necessary, nor will it benefit you or your reputation, Headmaster."

His fingers intertwined and rested over his mouth, obscuring what's left of his face. A part of him thought that Yuulis wouldn't question his actions, but it seems they had not let their guard down completely. Not that he blamed them--in a world of villains, it's wiser to play your cards right.

"I've made it quite clear that it was a mutual agreement, yes?" he says, "One day, you'll understand, once you've proven that you're worthy of carrying my secrets."

He sauntered towards them, slow and heavy footsteps circling around the prefect, "Besides, don't you want my help? You won't have to isolate yourself anymore, drifting around from place to place, worrying about hurting other people. You'll be able to live a normal life. It'd be easier for me to help you with your more personal matters like this, wouldn't you agree, my dearest nephew?"

It was probably underhanded of him to take advantage of their ignorance, but it's too late for them. The pact has been made, Crowley isn't sure whether Yuulis could feel the invisible link that binds them together as well, but the matching blue vest he gave them, their new surname, was enough to send them the message.

"It's getting late, come now, I'll walk you back to that rickety old--err, Ramshackle dorm," says the headmaster, waiting for Yuulis to trail behind him, like they usually do.

With bated breath, they come to accept their new circumstances. They step closer to the Headmaster.

"As you wish, uncle,"