#anyway you could clip a leash right on there--

[wild-moss-art]

my fesona pre and post timeskip! some info under the cut

Moss is a half nabatean who performs with a traveling circus. When Rhea sees one of their performances, she senses that there is something familiar about them. Moss takes more after their human mother than their nabatean father, so Rhea can't quite place who they remind her of. Moss is not forthcoming with any useful information on the matter, feigning complete ignorance. In order to watch them more closely, Rhea extends an invitation to the officer's academy. Moss accepts this invitation, albeit with suspicion, because it may offer better career options than the circus.

At the academy, Moss is a bit hard to pin down. They are friendly enough, generally cheerful, and happy to engage in conversation with anyone. They enjoy getting to know people, but are reluctant to reciprocate; rather, they tend to mirror others. Most people don't really notice this behavior, and those who do tend to find Moss mercurial and manipulative. Moss owns very few things, and they have very little regard for morality and attachment.

Due to the difficulties other characters may have getting to know Moss, support points are difficult to build. They get no support points from gifts, and negative support points from returning lost items. Supports can be built through battle, teatime, and sparring together(assuming that is a mechanic I also add to the game). If people try to pry too much, they lose support points unless they are at b support.

Moss can be recruited to any route, but will defect at the timeskip if they have no a supports unlocked for the house they are in. If they have an a support unlocked in a different house, they join that army after the timeskip. If they have no a supports unlocked, they never return to fodlan when they leave during the timeskip. Moss's heritage is only revealed in the silver snow and verdant wind routes.

[charliemwrites]

Woof, grrr, woof

No content warnings

Your trip to the vet turns up nothing. No microchips, and none of the staff recognize the wolf-dog. They’re the only vet in town too, and he looks too pristine to have come from another…

“You’re a weird little guy, huh?” you muse on the car ride to the pet store.

The vet office was kind enough to make a file for him, standing name “Buddy”. If you get to keep him, you’re definitely changing it. They also gave you a spare leash so that you wouldn’t have to leave him in the car while you shop.

It’s a pitifully flimsy thing, but the dog seems leashed trained and does tug. Could probably let him off it and he’d stay glued to your side.

The shopping is even weirder. He doesn’t seem very distracted by treats or food, only snaps at other dogs when they get into his personal space. Otherwise, he just stays right next to you, tongue occasionally lapping at your hanging fingers.

“Beautiful dog,” a man says to you. An older guy, rugged, looking at toys.

You shift. “Thank you.”

“Should really be feeding a beast like that a raw diet.”

“Raw diet?”

“What they get in the wild. All that processed shite ain’t good for ‘em.”

You thank him for the advice over the dog’s grumbling. A quick internet search on your phone reveals it’s not a bad idea, actually. Not too expensive either.

“Raw it is,” you muse.

He tilts his head, make a low “woof”. You scratch absently at his ears as you continue shopping. Let him pick toys - his favorite a squeaky grenade of all things that he refuses to put down. You get a big matching set of food and water bowls, a cushy dog bed, a parasite repellent. Even some dog pads in case he’s not house trained.

You stall in the leash aisle, a bit overwhelmed by the choices of leashes and collars and harnesses.

“How do you feel about pink…?”

Snort.

“Yeah didn’t think so. I didn’t like the rhinestones anyway. You’d probably end up eating one and shitting glitter.”

A long whine.

“Oh, sorry, is that embarrassing? Poor love.”

The gentlest scrape of big teeth at your knuckles. You chuckle and tap two fingers on his sandpaper tongue. His head jerks back, tongue flicking in offense.

“S’what you get, dummy.”

Shaking your head, turn back to the selection. The pup huffs, shakes his head, and noses at something lower. It’s a deep green - army, you think the shade is called - collar with a silver buckle instead of a snap clip.

“Not bad,” you muse. “Matches the whole woodsy vibe we’ve got going.”

You find the matching leash and harness set, dropping it in your cart. You receive several more compliments on your big gorgeous dog, though he refuses to let anyone pet him. You awkwardly make excuses that he’s a recent rescue and try to avoid further conversation.

The last stop is at the kiosk for a tag. You can’t just let him go without one, but you despise officially naming him “Buddy.”

You end up just putting your name, number, and address on there. A matte black heart engraved with silver.

“What do you think?” you ask, offering it for a sniff.

The dog doesn’t even pretend to be interested, just takes the opportunity to drag his tongue over your wrist again. You huff and wipe off on your pants.

“Gonna have to take another bath at this rate.”

You ignore his grumble - it’s uncanny at this point, how quick he is to respond - and guide him out to the car. He hops into the passenger seat, flops over into your lap first chance he gets. You have to nudge his snout away from your crotch again, but he seems satisfied with a hand smoothing over his head.

Home is warm when you arrive. You set up your new dog’s things, buckle him into his new collar, tag and all.

“There,” you coo, dropping smooches all over his head. “Look at how handsome you are, sweet boy! Can I have a kiss?”

You yelp as he barrels you over onto your back, well over 100 pounds of wolf-dog stretching over you. You turn your face away as he licks at your mouth, trying to get inside. You remember reading somewhere that that’s a wolf thing; just another tick in the “hybrid” box.

“Gross, gross! Nooooo,” you laugh, covering his snout. You squeal as his tongue flickers between two fingers. “Nasty boy! You’re so rude!!”

He finally lets you up with much coaxing, looking far too pleased with himself.

You make yourself dinner, providing your dog with scraps of chicken and unseasoned veggies based on your online reading. He seems happy with the offering, eats it all up with gusto.

As the evening comes, you stretch out on the couch. Finally feel brave enough to put on a scary movie now that you’ve got a big-ass deterrent.

Your dog even climbs up to cuddle, head on your chest while you hug him through scary parts. The really interesting part comes at the end, during the climax.

“Heeeeeere’s Johnny!”

Your new companion perks up, eyes on the screen.

“Oh? Is… is that your name? Is your name Johnny?”

His head snaps around to you, ears straight up and eyes bright.

“Johnny…” you croon, trying it out.

He makes a little “boof” noise and wriggles closer.

“Johnny baby,” you continue, grinning. “Johnny boy. John John the bon bon.”

It’s utter nonsense, but it makes his tail thump against the cushions, leaving slobbery kisses of excitement all over your neck and jaw.

“Alright alright!” you laugh, dropping a kiss on the top of his nose. “Johnny it is. Thank fuck I don’t have to come up with a name. Was thinking of calling you Philip or Simon or something.”

You yelp as he starts to make gagging sounds, nearly kicking him off the couch before it seems to subside.

“Good lord, bud,” you breathe as he grumbles and settles his head on your thigh, puffing out a big breath through his nose. “You’re gonna be a handful.”

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Masterlist

[teaboot]

I love your post about being a security guard. Would you please tell us about some of the cool people you meet at work?

Ooooh I can do that!

One time on foot patrol I got called to talk to a guy who had his pet off-leash, right? And there's a pretty big road nearby, and some restaurants, so I head over to see if I can convince him to leash what I believe to be his dog before it runs into a diner or humps the wrong leg or gets clipped or whatever

But I get there. And I see the guy, he's exactly as described, but there's no dog nearby so I'm kinda confused

But then I see his parrot

And I'm trying to keep a straight face when I get there but I'm in uniform and he sees me and stops and the three of us (me, him, parrot) kind of just stare at each other

And I dont know what to say, I have not been trained for this, and I'm trying to figure out if this is even a problem or not, so I just tell the guy, "I'm gonna be real with you man, this is a new one for me".

And to his credit the dude was actually very kind and polite, introduced me to the bird and all. Little fella made some *frighteningly intelligent* eye contact with me the whole time, of course.

Anyways it turns out the bird was about sixteen years old and smarter than me, so I told them they were both above my pay grade and were good to go as long as they didn't go into any eating establishments, since technically it'd be a contamination risk.

VERY cool afternoon.

Also another time a very cheerful woman claimed she could read auras and told me mine was yellow, and I got to tell her that yellow was my favourite colour, which was cool!

And one night I was on mall duty and I found six teenagers all crammed into one of those 25-cent kiddie rides shaped like a school bus, which was hilarious, but I had to tell 'em "I am so sorry, this is the best thing I've seen all day, but I do need yall outta there, I love you all" (the ride things have weight limits and break down constantly, it's a pain in the ass.)

Aw shit, this other time I found two teen boys pushing each other in a shopping cart- and they were having such a great time, I felt so bad, it's exactly the kind of shit my brothers would do- and I think that one was like "sorry guys, liabilities, do it where I can't see you".

And this one probably shouldn't be funny but there was this guy with a bike, right? Belligerent, abusive towards staff, falling-down drunk, you know? And I was supposed to get him out of the building, but instead when I asked him to make his way out he jumped onto the bike and started riding around me in circles shouting "WHORE! WHORE! WHOOOOOOOORE!"

Same guy, the day that I first met him, he was peeing at a payphone- I asked him for his name and he straightened up, put his shoulders back, and said with all confidence, "My name is Donald Finkley and I take it up the butt!"

His name was not Donald Finkley. The real Donald Finkley was someone he just didn't like very much

[jasperyourmutt]

Before we leave the house, he asks me to sit, and I do, of course. He clips on my collar and leash, rewarding me with an edible, and we leave-

We’re meeting with his friends, I know that much. The whole drive there his hand is on my thigh, squeezing it, telling me that we’re going to have so much fun. By the time we pull up to the house, I’m pleasantly high, my anxious nerves somewhat receding. He ruffles my hair, pulls me in by the collar and kisses me; a deep, passionate, possessive kiss. Without a word, we head inside. I know better than to ask questions- I trust him, and I wouldn’t get any answers anyways.

He holds the leash and I follow him, shyly sticking to his side as we enter. There’s several people about, laughing, talking, drinking. Some stop as we enter, cheering, coming up to greet him, and then me. My face burns hot, my puppy ears going back shyly as they begin to study and admire me. Some come up and pat my head, one grabs my ass and tugs on my tail, another putting a hand under my shirt and feeling the bare skin of my chest. I’m still clinging to his arm, unable to form words.

“He’s my very good boy, I’ve trained him well. He’s such an eager pup, isn’t that right?” He smiles to me, petting my head. I’m comforted by this, and I nod, letting out a small woof.

“So timid- he’s not usually like this, c’mon pup, let’s show them how smart you are,” he steps away from me and tugs off my shirt, then my trousers, leaving my in my briefs. A small circle has formed around us now, calling me handsome, cute, pretty boy, as he tugs on my leash. I’m nervous being so exposed around all these strangers, but I keep my eyes on him. I’m already aroused, as I know what he has in store for me, and I can feel the wetness forming between my legs.

“Sit, puppy,” and I do, eagerly getting to my knees, looking up at him with obedience. Any word he says is law to me- I could never disobey. Would never disobey. I wait for the next command, focused completely on him.

“Good dog. Now, open wide.”

[vampcubus]

Not me thinking about Muzan and the Upper Moons being put in collars and leashes, nope. Nooooo, siree, nope. Definitely not. I'm a very bad liar-

LATE ANSWER BUT I AM FINALLY READY TO DIVE INTO THIS. just short headcanons for now cus i'm not tryna get too carried away jbdajhsd.

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 : muzan, akaza, kokushibo, douma, and gyokko.

𝐌𝐔𝐙𝐀𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐉𝐈

— Muzan thinks the collar is degrading so naturally, he is not too thrilled or receptive to your begging at first. But he's a slave to his own curiosity, so after giving it some thought, he'll let you collar him.

— It is as immensely humiliating as he suspected, hearing the dangly loop where the lead would attach to jingle as he moved. You don't use a leash yet, wanting him to get comfortable with his collar first. He doesn't understand the appeal until you start tugging him around by it, hooking your finger through it to drag him where you want him, whether that be between your legs or otherwise, he's suddenly very pliant.

— You finally take that leap and attach a lead to his sleek black collar, bedazzled with red crystals to match his eyes- the same eyes that bore into you so intensely as you wrap the lead around your wrist several times, drawing him close.

"Such a pretty pet you make," you purr, and something in him purrs back, dark lashes fluttering.

— It's definitely a bedroom-only thing for him though. He has a reputation to uphold afterall. That also means he's getting hard the moment you go to fasten it around his neck ❤︎

𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐀

— Akaza takes to his collar so easily, smitten with how it feels around his pretty neck the moment you clip it on. He finds it comforting and likes to wear it as often as possible, as a reminder that he is irrevocably yours even when you're apart.

— He'd probably get so attached to it that he'd get anxious if you tried to remove it, instantly rushing to apologize, thinking he's done something wrong and you're punishing him. He gets a little sick to his stomach at the thought of being a bad pet, or bad in general.

— And he'd love to be leashed! it puts less pressure on him not to suddenly jerk away or disobey you on accident, because the lead is there to stop him from going too far.

— Just imagine being on your back with him rutting into you desperately, and then using the leash to pull him down to your lips, smothering his moans against your lips. Purrr.

𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐌𝐀

—Douma will try just about anything, and won't bat an eye if you confess you want to put a collar on him. He is a bit picky though, so make sure it's a nice one, perhaps with pretty dangly things or gems to compliment his eyes.

— I have this vivid image in my mind of him lifting his hair out of the way as you attach the collar around his neck, those rainbow-colored eyes fixated on your facial expressions, searching for your approval. And when he finds it, he's already purring. He'll gladly show it off too, posing and admiring himself in the mirror.

— He likes it even more when you tug him around by it, whether that be by a lead or just hooking your finger through it and yanking him forward. He's a brat sometimes so at times you'll have to be rough with him, and he likes it, so don't worry about hurting him (that turns him on anyway ❤︎)

𝐊𝐎𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐎

— NOW HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUT PLS!! Kokushibo likes to be collared but won't admit it. In fact, he'll pretend he's completely indifferent to it. Beneath the surface though, it feels more right than he ever imagined, to be marked as yours in such a way.

— He's another one I could see having a hard time parting with his collar, which is the biggest clue you'll get from him that he likes it. Just imagining reaching for the clasp when he's being particularly stubborn and his hand slaps over it, all six pairs of eyes wide with panic.

"Don't take it off, please..." he'd mumble, the slightest of blushes gracing his usually stoic face.

— As for leashes... he might be a little offended that you think he'd need one, he has impeccible control of his body and only moves it when you say afterall.

— He will, however, entertain it. Though you hardly need to yank him around at all, it's still very hot to see it moving along with him, especially if you get a chain, cus you hear it jingle with every thrust.

𝐆𝐘𝐎𝐊𝐊𝐎

— Gyokko will let you put a collar on him, but he's very picky about the appearance of it. Seriously you'll have to take him with you when you get one so he can pick one out, or let him ramble on about what he wants and get it custom made.

— I think he'd like to have multiple ones, so he can switch them out as he pleases. As for fucking him with it on, he's more easily-flustered than usual, getting red in the face when you boss him around and tug on it.

— Insists on getting matching leashes for each of his collars because he's painfully particular about the small details, but at least he's letting you leash him in the first place right?

[puppyslutposting]

Hope you had a good night's sleep, puppy! You deserve it. Taking a knot's no joke :3

-🐻

Oh yeah, I slept like a rock!! X3 I'm a little sore today but it was soooo worth it.. I just wish I didn't have to take a break today because, surprise surprise, I've been crazy horny allll day

Anyways, I'll use this ask to talk about how it went! :3

At first, my owner started out with some good foreplay. Leading me to the bed and kissing/biting all over my neck and shoulders, gripping at my inner thighs, and clipping on my collar and leash. Once I was nice and aroused, she hopped out of bed and told me she'd be right back. I was confused, but waited patiently for her. She came back into bed holding an edible in her teeth, and instructed me to take it. I took it obediently, kissing her in the process. Then, the real fun began.

She slipped my boxers off and started teasing my wet boycunt with the tip of the toy, saying, "You want to be bred so badly, don't you? Are you a good little knotslut?~" She kept dirty talking and teasing me, until I got so desperate I started bucking my hips and begging her for it. She chuckled at me and got up, slipping on the strap panties and positioning the toy in them. Seeing her stand so confidently with the knotted dildo on made me moan "oh, fuck" out loud, which was really embarrassing >////////>

She then got back on top of me and teased me with it more, fucking me with only the tip. I think she just wanted to watch me squirm and buck, trying to get more of it into me. She slowly gave me more and more, until she was eventually fucking me ruthlessly with the whole shaft. At this point, I was so needy for it that I had my legs wrapped around her back, trying to pull the big knot into me. Realizing how needy I was for it, she asked me, "Are you ready for your first knotting now, pup?~" Of course, I nodded like crazy. I was more than ready, i felt like I NEEDED it. My hungry cunt had been milking hard and trying to pull it in this entire time...

Suddenly, she gave one rough thrust into me. I gasped and yelped a little. I wasn't expecting it, but the toy was big enough for the thin tip to penetrate my cervix a bit. She of course checked on me to make sure I was ok, but to be honest I loved it. Surprisingly, I ended up loving that sensation so much I didn't even feel the knot that much. After a sec of just feeling my pussy pulse and milk around the dildo, she started fucking the whole thing, knot and all, in and out of me. I could definitely feel the knot now as my entrance stretched around it with every in-and-out motion.

It was around this point that the edible started to kick in and I was feeling a pure, euphoric high. Between my stoned state and the intense pleasure, my mind was completely slipping away from me. I don't remember much of what I actually said, but i do remember rambling about how it felt like this is what I was made for, and begging her to cum in me. (forgetting that it was just a hunk of silicone)

By the end of it, my insides were radiating dull pain around my entrance and my cervix from the pounding and stretching. But it felt so good. The pain made me feel so accomplished and proud, serving as a constant reminder of how good i took it... >//W//> AND she called me a good boy for taking it so well!! Woof!!

Anyways, if I wasn't so sore today, I'd definitely be masturbating right now while thinking about it. Typing it all out got me so wet it isn't even funny... >~< ruff...

As always, thanks for the ask!!~ :3

[marigold-hills]

Dunes & Waters, part 28

PART 1 • PREVIOUS PART • NEXT PART

(I’ve been gone, I’m back, have an extra long chapter) (missed me?)

It’s huge, the dog is, fur the colour of Sirius’ hair and fluffy and everywhere. Clever eyes. Pads the size of dinner plates. It’s adorable, the kind of a dog Remus wants to cuddle up to on a cold evening.

If it growled at him in a dark alleyway? He’d probably cry and run.

The dog goes up to the security guard like it’s his mission, struts down the tiled museum floor. Remus, frozen, watches.

When the guard notices, he doesn’t try to grab it as Remus feared but calls on his headset. Remus makes out dog and help and very very large. Wastes precious time given to him by Sirius, because the dog sits in front of the guard and thumps its heavy tail on the floor. The sound ricochets against the glass encasings. It moves so much how Sirius moves it creates the most disconcerting split in Remus’ thoughts.

The dog barks, the guard takes a shuddering step back, and Remus wrenches away from his thoughts. Has to be quick about it because if he’s caught they’ll have the both of them for doing magic in front of Muggles. It’s more than just his research on the line.

(He can’t decide if Sirius is to be admired in this moment or condemned for his brashness, because terrorising a Muggle while in his animagus form is bad enough, even if it weren’t coming from a convict on probation).

Remus crouches behind the encasing holding the scroll. There is a napkin in his pocket which he transfigures into a replica. His concentration wavers, wanes, each time he hears the dog bark or whine. It can’t be long until the backup comes for the guard and Remus is in direct line of vision of the door.

Hieroglyphics appear on his remade parchment, line by line. He’s not going to have the time to double check they are correct. Wishes he could just take a photo, but there are “no photography” signs everywhere and anyway he left his camera at the hotel.

There is a harsh, sudden sound of a crack. The dog whines. It sounds like pain. Remus feels the anger at it in his teeth and rushes through the last line of the symbols. He’s already walking towards the guard as he takes off his belt and transfigures it into a collar and leash.

The guard raises a heavy black baton above his head and the dog just sits there, not doing anything to retaliate, belly to the ground.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

The guard halts, but sneers at Remus like he’s vermin. (It’s a look he’s accustomed to – the Registry office, the full moon facilities, some of his colleagues who don’t fancy him much.)

“Stray dog. They’re a problem. Wondering in like this. They piss on the displays.”

“Does that look like a stray to you? He’s mine.”

The dogs tail wags faintly against the floor. He’s still lying down.

“Heel,” Remus says, not taking his eyes of the guard.

They could be in big trouble here. He’s got what looks like a stolen exhibit in his pocket, and has apparently let his dog run loose around a public space. The way the guard looks between him and the dog is putting Remus on edge, but he can’t show it – if the guard thinks he’s in the right they might get out of this unscathed.

The dog gets up and, limping ever so slightly, crosses to sit at Remus’ feet. The limp, the glint of the baton – it unlocks something in Remus.

“Have to keep dog leashed,” the guard says, “don’t see you with it.”

Remus puts the collar around the dogs neck. Its fur is the same as Sirius’ hair, coarse where it should be smooth, thick and lovely. “You see me with it now,” he clips on the lead, “there. No more problem.”

The dog nuzzles into Remus’ palm. He runs it over its head, soothing, gentle. Thinks of the limp.

“You really shouldn’t hit dogs, you know,” he says with the approaching full moon pushing the words. “Strays bite. Just a friendly warning.”

There’s nothing friendly, and they both know it. The guard swallows, visibly, sheathes his baton. Looks at the dog like it could pounce but looks at Remus like he is the threat.

The dog is in step with him all the way out of the Museum. He really walks very well on a leash.

***

“Did you get it?” Sirius asks the moment he’s himself again, over Remus’ statement-question “you’re an animagus?”

It’s exhilarating, now they’re out of the Museum and away from the danger of getting caught. Sirius laughs, head thrown back, and its as bark-like as always and Remus thinks I see.

It makes sense really, with Sirius’ puppy dog eyes and his unrelenting love for his family. With the way animals flock to him like they recognise on of their own. With the way he is, playful and rash – and impatient, reactionary, impulsive.

And so achingly lovely in his unguarded happiness.

It’s not apparent that even transformed, he’s still limping, not until they get to their hotel room.

Remus is exhausted – from the moon encroaching onto him, from the stress. The stint in the Museum was the more reckless thing he’s done since he can remember. That’s not what he’s like. Remus has spent his life cultivating who he is, a person fit for society – deserving to be part of society. Obeying the laws an authority figures. Not threatening guards.

There’s a large, comfortable looking bed in the middle of the sunlit room. Remus aches to spread his bones out and let them sink into the mattress.

“I’d say I’ll take the sofa but there doesn’t seem to be one,” Sirius sounds playful about it, and Remus didn’t even notice there was only one bed (of course there is only one bed.)

“It’s big enough. We can share.”

“Don’t want me to check with the reception?”

“He said it was the only room they had left. There’s no point. And to be honest,” Remus sits on the edge of the bed, and it sinks underneath him, moulds into him, and it’s already so comfortable he might cry, “I just want to sleep.”

“As you wish, Professor.”

Their things had been sent up to the room already. They both change. Sirius takes a long, steamy shower. Even through the closed door, Remus can smell the body potions Sirius uses, the hot water as it hits overheated skin.

The images come the way they do to the wolf, in the scant things he remembers. They’re built upon the smell and the sounds, extrapolated from what he knows and what he feels. An instinct to understand.

He hears the water rushing, wild like a waterfall, and it’s simple: it would roll down skin, down the black of tattoos and the unlined paleness. Catch on edges, fill out divots of collarbones and hips. The smell of lavender rises above the heat. Sirius must lather it into himself, hands on calves and thighs. He doesn’t strike Remus as someone who’d be perfunctory with it; Sirius is many things (so many, many things), but not economical. Remus thinks he’d be leisurely, take his time, make it into something that feels good.

He deserves nothing but to feel good.

The way the baton flashed makes it through the images. The way the dog whimpered. The way Sirius limped. Remus has to sit on his hands to stop himself getting into the bathroom to check and to soothe and to help Sirius with the hurt.

Sirius comes out in just a towel, water still dripping off his hair and onto his shoulders. Remus thinks don’t do this to me, not today, not when my control is barely mine anymore.

“Oh, sorry, were you waiting on me?” Sirius asks, completely misinterpreting the way Remus sits on the bed where he left him, staring.

“Sure,” Remus responds because it’s easier than the alternative.

It’s not much later when they get into bed, side-by-side, and there is no awkwardness and no silence. It’s so natural it makes Remus’ anxiety peak because nothing ever comes easily and everything is always a convoluted mess, so why would this be different? Why should this be the first time he feels truly content?

And, if it is, then how is it fair that it’s here, by the side of this man that’s more a hurricane than a human, and not in the spaces where Remus worked and struggled to carve a slice of real life for himself? Instead, he gets this – a one night’s respite, fleeting a temporary and not at all his to have.

Sirius turns to him. They lay face to face. The near-full moon illuminates him. Remus wants to reach out and touch.

“How’s your leg?”

“It’ll be fine.”

“I can’t believe the bastard hit you,” Remus pauses, thinks, “actually, I can’t believe you’re an animagus.”

“Unregistered. Illegal.”

“Why?”

Sirius shrugs like it’s no big deal, “we were fifteen, James and I and Pete, when we learnt. Never gotten around to registering.”

Fifteen. Magic like that, at fifteen. “That’s amazing.”

“It’s pretty cool,” Sirius confidently misunderstands the meaning, “James calls the dog Padfoot. He’s a stag, and Wormy – Wormtail, that’s Peter – is a rat.”

“And James? He doesn’t have a silly nickname?”

“They’re not silly!” Sirius smacks him playfully on a shoulder and keeps his fingers there, tracing patterns into the duvet that’s over the both of them. “James is Prongs. Because of the antlers.”

They talk into the night, Sirius’ voice becoming low and raspy as sleep touches him. His hand, fingers, stay on Remus’ arm. At some point, over hours that feel like minutes, they slide down his bicep, across his elbow, to his wrist and they settle there, fingerprints against a pulse point.

NEXT PART

@tealeavesandtrash

@moon-girl88

@hoje--aqui

@cocoabutterandbooks

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@procrastinatingstuff

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(let me know if you do/don’t want to be tagged!)

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Your stories are so good OMG 🥹🥹

I have an idea, I’m so obsessed nis with 98-99 James, he’s just soooo fine… anyway, maybe he and reader got married a year before that and she’s super calm and always chilled so she’s good for his anger, emotions, and he loves coming home to her waiting with a meal; basically he really enjoys being the husband, the drinking went down, no strippers, etc. but the guys in band start joking that she put him on a leash, and he kinda used to be a “wolf” type, but she turned him into a domesticated puppy? And he’s pissed off, so typically he tries to prove that he’s still “got it” : he starts to come home late, getting drunk, strip clubs, etc. She can’t understand the sudden change in attitude, so she wants answers. But James goes like “that’s the real me, you don’t like it - door is that way, I can get another wife easy”. She moves out, as she’s done tolerating this behavior, but in a couple of weeks he’s begging her for forgiveness? He hates coming to an empty house, it reminds him of how lonely he is outside the band, he can’t confine in anyone and he basically had a fight with Lars because she’s not there anymore to calm him down????

Thank you, I hope you like this❤

Come back

I always waited for him after a concert. It was our little ritual—me, the quiet of our home, and  dinner warming on the stove. When James walked through the door tonight, looking exhausted but satisfied, I felt that familiar warmth in my chest. His concerts always took so much out of him, but he seemed at peace once he was home. With me.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice hoarse as he wrapped his arms around me from behind, his lips brushing my neck. “Missed you.”

“I missed you too,” I replied softly, leaning back into him. "Dinner’s ready."

Instead of eating right away, we ended up on the couch. His body relaxed as he held me close, his fingers trailing lazily across my skin. He didn’t need to say much—his silence spoke of the comfort he found in moments like these, just the two of us.

But that peace didn’t last.

James Hetfield pov

The concert had just ended, and the crowd's cheers still echoed in my ears as I made my way backstage. I was buzzing from the adrenaline, ready to go home to the warmth of my girlfriend.

Before I could reach my dressing room, Lars intercepted me, leaning against the wall with that casual grin.

“Hey, man, you want to hit the bar tonight?” he asked.

“No, I’m not feeling it,” I replied, trying to brush past him.

“Come on! You’ve changed since you got with her. It’s like she put you on a leash and you became a domesticated puppy.”

“That's not true!” I snapped, irritation flaring. “I didn’t change for her.”

“Really? You used to be wild. Now you act like you have some kind of responsibility,” he shot back.

“I’m still me! Just because I don’t want to go out every night doesn’t mean I’ve changed,” I argued.

“Fine. But it feels like you’ve lost yourself. Just think about it, okay?” he said, frustration evident in his tone.

I sighed, knowing he had a point, but I wasn’t ready to admit it. I pushed past him and stepped out into the night, his words lingering in my mind.

---

A few days later, he started coming home late. The first time, I didn’t think much of it. He was out with the guys after the show, I guessed. But it became a pattern, and the dinners I made were left cold on the stove. The quiet of our home stretched on, longer and emptier each night. He hardly said a word about it, and when I tried to ask, his responses were clipped and distant.

"Something wrong, James?" I asked one night as he walked through the door, later than ever, reeking of alcohol.

"Nothin’," he muttered, brushing past me.

I could feel it—the distance growing, the warmth fading. The man who once rushed home to me after every show now barely seemed to notice I was there. 

But I couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed.

---

It all came crashing down one night when I confronted him. I couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine when it so clearly wasn’t.

“James,” I started, my voice shaking as he came home late again, looking like a stranger. “What’s going on? You’ve been different for weeks now. You don’t talk to me anymore. You come home drunk, and I’m left here wondering what I did wrong.”

He didn’t even look at me. “Nothin’s going on.”

“Don’t lie to me, James,” I said, my frustration boiling over. “This isn’t you. I don’t understand why you’re acting like this—why won’t you talk to me?”

Suddenly, he snapped. His eyes, cold and angry, finally met mine. “This is the real me. The guy who used to go out, drink, live his life. You don’t like it? There’s the door.”

I felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t need you telling me what to do,” he growled, his voice low and harsh. “I can get another wife if this one doesn’t like who I am.”

Tears burned in my eyes. I couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. The man who once couldn’t wait to come home to me was now telling me I could leave. “If that’s how you really feel,” I whispered, my heart breaking, “then I’ll go.”

I packed my things that night, my hands trembling as I gathered the life we had built together into a couple of bags. It hurt like hell, but I wasn’t going to stay where I wasn’t wanted.

---

Weeks passed, and the silence in my new apartment was heavy, but it felt better than the cold indifference I had left behind. I was trying to move on, trying to piece myself back together. But the hole in my chest—the one shaped like him—was still there, no matter how hard I tried to ignore it.

One night, there was a knock on the door. When I opened it, there he was.

James.

He looked like a wreck, his eyes hollow, his face unshaven, and his body tense. I hadn’t seen him like this before—so vulnerable, so broken.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, his voice shaking. “I messed up. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking, but I can’t do this without you. The house is empty, and I hate coming home to it. I hate not holding you, not hearing your voice. I’ve been miserable without you.”

 He stepped closer, and I felt my heart race. “I’ve been so damn lonely,” he continued, his voice raw with emotion. “I hated waking up in that house without you. Every time I walked in, it felt like a punch to the gut. I even got into a fight with Lars ‘cause I couldn’t calm down. You’re the only one who ever knew how to do that.”

His eyes were red, and I reached out, cradling his face in my hands, brushing away the tears that had pooled in his eyes. “You don’t have to feel this way,” I whispered, my heart aching for him. “You’re not alone.”

He leaned into my touch, his breathing shaky. “I miss you. I miss us. I need you. I was an idiot, and I don’t expect you to forgive me right away, but please… please come home.”

My heart ached at the sight of him, but the pain he’d caused still lingered. I missed him. I missed the life we had together. But I couldn’t just forget everything.

“I’ll come home,” I finally said, watching the relief wash over his face. “But things have to change, James. You can’t shut me out like that again.”

He nodded, his eyes glistening. “I know I messed up, and I can’t tell you how much I regret it. But I need you to understand that being without you feels like an emptiness I can’t bear.”

I stepped aside, letting him in, and as his arms wrapped around me once more, I felt the familiar warmth return. The healing would take time, but in that moment, I knew we’d find our way back.

[echoingbirdsofprey]

Delicate (Jake's Version)

4 - Rough On The Surface

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OFC Samantha Kazansky

Rating: Explicit (MDNI!)

Warnings: flirting and exactly one kiss on the lips between Jake and Sam, alcohol consumption, mention of Jake's dad's death

WC: 2.3k

A/N: Jake mentions his brother, surprise!

Playlist

This asshole, she thought as she stood on the front step, leaning against the side railing that they'd installed a few years ago for her father. Rocco was at the end of his leash, sniffing the chilled salt brimmed morning air. Sam was waiting for Jake at six in the fucking morning, which was normally fine because she got up at six to take a walk anyway, but it was six oh five and he was just pulling up now. So much for those impeccable time management skills they taught him in the Navy. He stepped out, sunglasses on, in his khaki pants, and a black t-shirt that hugged his upper body in all the right ways, and were those cowboy boots? Why was he wearing cowboy boots underneath nice khaki pants? An interesting choice , she thought.

Rocco greeted him first, jumping at his legs and Jake bent down to pet the little traitor. There was obviously something about Jake she wasn't seeing because Rocco was super territorial of new people around Sam, but he wasn't with Jake. Not even a little bit. His eyes locked on hers as he pulled his aviators off, and he smirked as he stood back up. 

“Trying to win me over by saying hi to my dog first. That's one I haven't seen.” she said and he looked away with a smile as he clipped his sunglasses to the front of his shirt. His dog tags were hanging over the fabric and she took a quick peek. Seresin, Jacob A. She wondered what the A stood for. It also had his Naval Identification number, his blood type, and his religious preference. In the event of a crash or an emergency situation, he could be identified and his family could be notified. He noticed her looking though, and tucked them into his shirt. Odd, as if he didn’t want me to see? 

“Lead the way.” He said and she glanced down at Rocco, who took that as his signal to rocket off the steps and pull her along until they got to the end of the walkway. Once they got onto the normal sidewalk he chilled out. He did this every morning so she never let it bother her. She knew he was excited to go for his walk.

“Someone’s excited.” Jake said as he walked beside Sam. “He always like this?”

“Unless he’s asleep, yeah. He’s gotta keep his slim figure.” she joked, making Jake smirk and let out a small laugh. He was walking close enough that his arms brushed hers a time or two and it made her blush. Sam decided questioning him was the best course of action, to distract from her obvious zeal. “So...where are you from?”

“Really? That’s the best you can come up with? And here you are sayin’ I’m the boring one.” He mused and she shot him a glare. He smirked and shook his head as he blew raspberries from his pursed lips. His very pretty pursed lips. “Believe it or not, I’m from Arkansas.” 

“Hmm...I can see it. You’re wild enough.” She said and he took it as a complement. “Is your family there?

“Dardanelle, Arkansas is home to Kenneth Seresin and Jeanie Owens-Seresin.” He said and her brows furrowed.

“Your mom’s got two last names?” She asked and he nodded.

“Yes ma’am. My actual Dad died driving a tractor trailer cross country when we were little kids. Like four or five. He was comin’ home on I-30 through Little Rock and someone popped in front of him in a truck with farm equipment on it, slammed on their brakes cause of a car in front of them and he hit ‘em goin’ eighty, got crushed in the cab and died before they could get a Helo to the nearest hospital. Momma met Kenny years later when we were in middle school and remarried. My brother kept dad’s last name and I took Kenny’s because it has a little weight in the Navy and on me. He’s a retired fighter pilot and the only father figure I’ve ever had.” Jake explained and she kept one eye on his face while he explained and one on the sidewalk. His brows furrowed and knitted as he talked about his dad, and then his expression became softer when he mentioned his step-dad. 

“You have a brother?” She asked and he nodded as they got closer to the little cafe that she went to for breakfast sometimes. 

“Yup. Tyler. Older by a few hours...technically older by a day I guess cause he was born at eleven somethin’ pm and I was...” He stopped speaking for a moment as his gaze locked on hers. “Sorry...I don’t ever talk this much...about...”

“No it’s okay. It’s nice to see you have some humanity and you’re not just a giant asshole.” she said with a laugh and he smirked and laughed too. 

They headed into the little cafe, and the barista gave Rocco a treat. Sam ordered what she normally ordered, and then Jake ordered and he paid for everything. As they left, Jake’s arm brushed against Sam's, his skin warm against hers.

“Y'know, I’m not always an asshole. There’s a whole other side of me that I don’t show people. I think I’d wanna show you though...” He said as they walked and she sucked in a sharp breath. Hearing him basically say he wanted to be vulnerable with her? Hot as fuck, she thought. And, it didn’t sound fake coming from him. There was a way that his expression softened and his eyes filled with a warmth that made it believable, and so different from any other guy she’d ever been with. Most of them put on a facade anyway like he did, but all of them never let their guard down. Jake seemed like he wanted to. But with his friends, the pilots he flew with, he wouldn't. With her he'd be willing to. 

She stepped in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. He cleared his throat and tipped his sunglasses down so that she could see the pretty sage green of his eyes. 

“So show me who you really are, Jake Seresin.” She said and he tentatively reached up. He pushed his sunglasses back into place and his fingers ghosted over her cheek bone, and then hooked around the base of her skull, still gentle, much more than she ever expected with all the hard and tight muscle he was comprised of. He tilted her head up and leaned in, his other hand holding his coffee and the bag with both of their breakfast sandwiches in it going around to her lower back. His dexterity was apparent as she felt a single finger at her back, the other four holding onto everything else. This close, she could see his eyes studying her from underneath his aviators and as if by magic or some otherworldly force he lured her into closing the distance between them. His lips were soft and warm against hers, his tongue begging for a taste of her. She obliged and closed her eyes, letting him control the duration and intensity of their first kiss. What felt like minutes gone by was really only seconds, as they parted and he licked his lips and smiled down at her. 

“That tell you anything?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper, with a rasp to die for. Sam felt a shiver run down her spine, and she had to look away, her composure failing. There was an electricity, a spark that now set fire to an inferno in Sam's chest. Her heart beat rapidly as she stared up into a sea of green. 

“Not what I was expecting...” She said, glancing down, almost nervously he noticed. Jake's fingers were still at her neck and he pushed some of her pretty dark mahogany brown hair from in front of her eyes and behind her ear. His thumb pressed lightly to her cheek and she noticed his eyes soften even more underneath the sunglasses. There was a gentle and kind man behind the rough and tumble fighter pilot that Sam wanted nothing more than to see more of. He let his hand drop down to her waist and pressed slightly to move her along. They walked as slow as they could back to her house, stealing glances back and forth in the morning sunlight. 

🛩🛩🛩

Sam opted for a pretty cocktail dress that stopped just above her knees, a light blue color with thin straps. It was very simple and very plain and she wore silver heels with it. She always thought less is more and when she saw Nat in a similar style of dress but black in color, she knew she’d been right. She hugged her friend and they headed into a club. Nat wanted to dance and Sam wanted to get a little drunk. The girls headed to the bar first, grabbing shots of top shelf whiskey and chasing it with cocktails that they took to the dance floor with them. Sam put her phone in her bra and with a hand on her drink and the other on Nat's waist, they moved in unison to the bass heavy beats that the dj spun. This was their play every time they went out together, because normally guys left them alone. They danced for what felt like hours and nursed their drinks before they walked to a table in the back and sat down. Catching their breath they both checked their phones.

Jake: hey

Jake: was just wondering what you were up to?

Jake: didn't know if you wanted to come to the hard deck tonight?

Jake: nevermind Bob said you and Phoenix were out together

Jake: have fun 😏

She typed a response back.

Sam: hi cowboy

He was quick to respond.

Jake: lol that's my brother not me

Sam: i can't call you cowboy?

Jake: rather you call me Jake...or Hangman

Jake: or maybe something else

Sam: something else Hmm?

Jake: ya 😏

Sam: well like what?

Jake: boyfriend?????

Sam: let's not get too excited

Jake: but we kissed

Sam: oh Jakey you're gonna have to do more than that to get me to call you my boyfriend 

Jake: fuck i thought I could stop trying so hard 

Jake: jk

Sam: tomorrow 

Jake: ???

Sam: what are you doing

Jake: work...then nothing

Sam: okay...

Jake: may I take you to dinner?

Sam: so polite when he wants something

Jake: youre killing me

Sam: yes we can go to dinner...nothing fancy though. Show me small town Arkansas Jake

Jake: yes ma'am 

Sam felt eyes on her.

“Who are you furiously texting?” Nat asked, her eyes widened and a huge grin across her lips.

“Jake...” Sam said sheepishly. Nat shook her head

“Yeah. How'd that go? You never texted me that night.” Nat said and Sam smiled.

“Surprisingly well. He's actually nice.” Sam said and Nat held a look of astonishment.

“I didn't think it was possible.” She said and Sam nodded.

“It is. What's the issue everyone has with him?” She asked.

“He's just super cocky. He actually is a really fucking good pilot, but he's bad at being a team player. He wants to be a leader with none of the responsibility for his team. That's a problem when you're up there with a wingman. You have to watch out for each other and he's always out for himself.” Nat explained and Sam pursed her lips. 

“Maybe he just needs someone to show him how.” She said and Nat laughed.

“Great. Glad you've applied for the job and accepted it. Fix him, Sammy. If you can fix Hangman's bullshit attitude, I'll kiss you on the mouth.” Nat chuckled and Sam did too.

“You would kiss me on the mouth anyway.” She said and Nat smirked. 

“If you fix Hangman, I'll kiss Bradley on the mouth.” She said and they both laughed out loud.

“Okay now that I wanna see! Deal!” Sam yelled and the two ladies decided on another round of drinks before they would head out for the night. Nat was responsible and brought Sam home and Nat knew she'd have to be up super early to head back to base for training, but she elected to stay the night at Sam's anyway. Sam wasn't about to let her drive even though Nat could drink anyone and everyone under the table and she'd barely been phased. Nat took a shower and then Sam did also and they cuddled up in Sam's bed like they used to do when they were little girls.

“Platonically yours.” Nat said, kissing Sam on the temple. Sam began to drift off to dreams of a certain blond and cocky lieutenant.

🛩🛩🛩

In the morning, Rocco had found his way onto the bed like he always did. Anytime Sam was home from college, Rocco gravitated toward her because he knew she was going to take him for a walk early in the morning. His extra small doggie bladder couldn't hold much and he was a good water drinker. Ice usually woke up in the middle of the night and let him out into the backyard for a bathroom break. Now that Sam was home for good, Rocco was very happy to march his cute little hot dog booty to her room and climb onto the bed, patiently waiting for Sam to be ready for a walk and a piss. Sam had awoken first to a single text.

Jake: mornin’ pretty girl

Sam smiled a tired smile and glanced over at Nat, who wasn’t quite up yet. She kissed her friend on the forehead and pushed the sheets down. Normally, Sam slept naked. When she was at college, she did as well, unless Shelby had a guy over. Last night though, she'd decided to put some panties and a tank top on. She hopped out of the bed and headed to the bathroom. Nat rolled over onto her back and checked her phone, noticing a message on Sam's phone.

Jake: breakfast? 

Nat pursed her lips as she climbed off the bed. She took Sam's phone and opened her messages and read through Sam's with Jake and her eyes widened. Nat wanted to say she was jealous and she almost felt betrayed a little, but at the same time, she was kind of curious to see where this went. Could Sam actually change Hangman's attitude?

[foodsies4me]

Peak Alec when bridges Magnus comes to bring baby Max + Sorcha back to the orphanage

Magnus: Alec, you’re literally in a clave meeting…

Alec: 😤

(also baby Max/Sorcha breaking outta the Spiral and turning up in Alrc office??? kinda?)

This took an eternity to finish, but I got there! (Why does worldbuilding always have to happen. Why couldn’t I just write a short fic with that scene and that scene alone???) Anyway, here is some more Magnus POV, post Bridges.

Coming home to an empty apartment is nothing new to Magnus. It doesn’t happen as often as it used to, these days he’s usually greeted by Alexander, one of the trainees or rookies or his darling blueberry when he returns. Depending on the time of day, though, it still happened that the loft would be as empty as when he was a carefree bachelor. 

Case in point today. With it being three in the afternoon, Alexander is still at work when Magnus portals back from an impromptu three day trip to Siam. The loft is almost bare without the familiar stars of Nephilim magic trailing along its wards. His magic cold with displeasure the way it always is when Alexander isn’t there.

Chairman Meow is the only one to greet him when he drops his suitcase on the ground and flings his coat on the coatrack. He jumps down from his cat tree, taking the long way around to land on the back of the new, black sofa they bought. 

“I’m afraid it’ll be just the two of us for the afternoon,” Magnus says regretfully, gently scratching under Chairman Meow’s chin when he whines a familiar complaint. “Or maybe we’ll have to pick up our Blueberry and Starfish at Agatha’s. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind a day off.”

Decision made, Magnus opens a portal inside the wards covering Agatha’s cottage. He steps through without a care, already planning out what activities he could entertain his blueberry when he comes face to face with a scowling Agatha and two disappointed looking faces.

Neither of them is his Blueberry.

Or his darling Sorcha.

Yara and Yan are sitting next to Agatha, a magical leash tied around their waists to keep them within the boundaries of the daycare. They’re both glaring daggers at the coloring books in front of them, cheeks puffed out in angered disappointment and Magnus can deduce what happened with that sight alone. 

“That would make it the third time this week, I presume?”

“Try fifth,” Agatha corrects. Her voice is clipped, wrinkled cheeks pulled tight into pursed frown. She’s staring at the sweater she’s knitting - or rather deconstructing, pulling one row of stitches after the other loose. “I will portal the daycare right into your husband’s institution,” she warns. “I will not even ask. Perhaps that will teach him.”

Magnus smiles, picturing Alexander’s reaction in his mind and the unbridled delight that would follow if Agatha did ever choose to do so. "He’s more likely to stop you from undoing it.”

It’s not even a lie, Alexander’s weak spot for children is well documented. His absolute adoration when it comes to his rookies and his trainees is even more so. The man didn’t strong-arm the Clave into allowing warlock children - his warlock children and Magnus is still tickled pink at how bluntly Alexander had staked his claim - to train in the institute solely out of the goodness of his heart. It had been his delightfully selfish desire to keep his rookies close. 

“Of course he would, the shameless man.”

Magnus smiles, still amused by Agatha’s decision to refer to Alexander as such, but never him. “As if you would have him any other way,” he counters loftily as he sits down next to a still pouting Yara and Yan. 

He doesn’t mention the black yarn she’s using, nor the fact that the half-deconstructed sweater isn’t in any of their or the children’s sizes, but just so happens to fit one particulary broad-shouldered shadowhunter.

Agatha huffs. “Hogwash.”

Instead of saying anything else on the matter, Magnus turns toward disappointed frowns and discarded crayons. “And why are we pouting?”

“Granny Lee said we can’t go see Alec,” Yan grouches. “But Max and Sorcha can and everyone else can and we never see Alec and it’s not fair.” She crossed her arms and purses her lips even more. “I wanna see Alec.”

Magnus disguises a laugh behind a fake cough, pressing his lips together to stop from smiling when Agatha turns to look at them with a bland look. “You saw Alec yesterday and the day before. And on Thursday.”

“Never,” Yan repeats more loudly.

Agatha rolls her eyes - and the way she does it makes it  all too apparent who she picked the habit from. For all her appearance shows her to be three times his age, in moments like these Agatha’s real age always manages to peek through. “I suppose I should go and fetch our two wayward toddlers?”

Agatha puts her half-destroyed sweater down. “Spare yourself the effort,” she tells him. “You are better off taking these two pouting ones with you.”

Yara and Yan immediately brighten up at the suggestion, bouncing to their feet and  looking up at him with wide pleasing puppy-eyes.

“Alright, my little peppers. We’ll go see Alec,” he says. "But first I believe we should be getting some shoes.” They’re both racing off to their rooms, the magical leashes disappearing into thin air as they disappear inside the house.

“The permanent three way portal should be done by next week,” Magnus promises Agatha once they’re out of ear shot. “That should mollify them.”

It should also mollify Alec. His husband has been making increasingly unsubtle remarks about needing more rooms in the loft. Just in case one of the kids wants to spend the night, is the excuse he would stress every time. But, seeing as his blackberry hadn’t slept in the institute even once since they moved out of the Spiral and that the other trainees spent the night more often than they did not, that excuse was losing credibility by the day. 

“About that, you told Alec already?”

He hasn’t. 

“Magnus.”

“The man shadowhunter-adopted five of the children before we even started dating. I doubt he would mind having that adoption be slightly more formal.”

Agatha shakes her head. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” she says as she picks her discarded sweater back up and starts the long arduous task of building it back up.

“I do,” he promises. And he does. That’s why he needs to have all his ducks - or as it stands all of his beans and  peppers in a row - before he asks Alexander to let him fix what he messed up the first time around. 

 “All ready to go?” He asks when Yan and Yara come running back, sandals and weighted sneakers tied around their feet. They both nod, running over to give Agatha a hug before taking one hand each. 

To his credit, Clearwater doesn’t blink when he sees Magnus appear. Nor do Underhill, Izzy or Jace. They simply point toward the conference room Alexander uses when he’s meeting with Clave officials, all used to this particular song and dance. All shadowhunters in Alexander’s institute are, if the ongoing bet-wars Izzy told him about are anything to go on.

Still, while Magnus has no qualms disturbing Alexander during his training-hours or even when he’s working in his office, barging into a meeting with Clave officials is another matter. Things might have gotten better, worlds better - Magnus still wakes up barely believing he can breathe without pain again. That doesn’t mean he’s ready to trust any Clave official just yet unless they’ve been personally vetted and cleared by Alexander.

Even then it would be a though sell.

The little thread of magic that ties him to his blueberry on that first day confirms he’s in the room with Alexander, though. And Magnus would recognize Sorcha’s lavender pops everywhere. 

Steeling himself to play nice with what looks seven Clave officials going by his magic, Magnus pushes the door open after ordering Yan and Yara to stay put. He readies himself to waltz his way inside and grab Sorcha and Little Max, only to stop short when Alexander raises his arms to block Magnus from taking either of their kids.

“It’s fine, they can say,” Alexander says, not taking his eyes off of the two Clave officials closest to him. “We’re finishing up anyway.”

“Puzzles!” Sorcha cheers, kicking her feet in excitement. Her enthusiasm is contagious and soon his blueberry is cheering as well. It makes the Clave official on Alec’s left turn even more red and Magnus already feels his magic bristle in anger before they open their mouth. 

“This meeting isn’t over, Lightwood. So if you’re done babysitting those-”

The shadowhunter thankfully stops himself before Magnus finds a reason to do so, sitting back down in his chair and clearing his throat with a fake cough. “The Clave has already made several concessions, Lightwood,” he begins, falling back to (clearly forced) politeness. “To show good will towards-”

“They’re going to make more.” 

Alec doesn’t wait for the Clave envoys to react to that statement and pushes himself to his feet two excited toddlers still wriggling in his arms. “If you want to discuss anything else you’ll have to speak with my secretary. I have other business to attend to.”

Alec doesn’t wait until the door is closed to bend down and give Magnus a kiss. Or to pick Yara and Yan up when they demand to be carried as well.

“But I’m the one who spoils them,” Magnus mutters when Alec refuses - yet again - to hand either his blueberry or his little starfish over to him. “The shadowhunter doth protest too much and is casting stones in glass houses on top of that, I believe.”

“Clara did not need a bioluminescent dress,” Alec protests. “Or a fourth mood ring dress.”

“And the kids don’t need to be carried around everywhere,” Magnus volleys back, using his magic to (finally) get his blueberry back in his arms. “And yet here we are.”

Alec rolls his eyes and victory, Magnus thinks, has never tasted so sweet.

“Bapak, can we fly from the big buildings again?”

“Absolutely not.”

[kaminocasey]

Must Love Massiffs

Summary: You meet an unexpected person at the park who happens to have a massiff just like you.

Pairing: Sergeant Hound x GN!Reader

WC: 1.6K

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; Name calling.

A/N: If you can't tell, I got this idea from the romcom "Must Love Dogs" starring Diane Lane and John Cusack lol. I'm a diehard romantic. Always. Anyway, I'd not written anything for Hound yet, so here we are! <3

Your day hadn’t started off well. First, you got let go from your job at the bank that you had worked at for the last six years. Then, you spilled your coffee all over your new leather seats of your speeder. And finally, your massiff, Zio, had gotten out and ran down your street toward the park so now, you’re chasing after her trying to make sure she doesn’t scare someone or get run over. 

A great fucking day, right? Just the absolute best. What next?

“Zio!” You call out, losing her out of your sight. 

“This fucking massiff.” You grumble. “I knew I should have taken the lazy tooka home…” 

You grumble, but you love Zio with your entire heart. Normally, she’d wait for you to put her leash on, so the fact that she ran out the door like that kind of worries you.

“WOAH! DOWN BOY!” You hear someone in the park shout. “DOWN GRIZZER!”

You turn around and start running immediately, seeing Zio sniffing out another excited massiff and his Coruscant Guard owner. 

“Zio, down!” You yell, a little afraid that this guy could hurt Zio or even arrest you.

You really didn’t know much about the Coruscant Guard other than they were basically glorified detectives and worked closely with the chancellor, senate, and Jedi. People you didn’t really care much for. “Do you mind?” The clone snaps at you in a rude, modulated voice. “Don’t you know what a leash is?” 

You glare at him, pulling Zio back toward you, leashing her. “Obviously that’s what I was trying to do, thanks.” “This is a leash-only park.” The Corrie tells you, ignoring your comment.

“Yeah, I know, asshole.” You finally get her to sit. “She ran out and I’ve been chasing her for six blocks. You gonna arrest me or something? Because if not, I’ve got places to be.” 

You get a look at his intricately decorated helmet. It’s different from any Corrie helmet you’ve ever seen. It actually looks really cool, but you’re not gonna tell this asshole that. It has grey and white jags with a red V that goes down over the visor from the top. It’s interesting. But unfortunately, the helmet belongs to a dick.

“Okay, great.” You nod when he says nothing, walking Zio away. “Let’s go, Zio.” 

When you get to the edge of the park and let Zio do her business there, you look back at the Corrie and he’s still watching you with a tilted head. Whatever. You turn back around and then head home once Zio is done. 

“You’re rotten, you know that?” You talk to her, shaking your head. 

She looks back at you slightly, clearly pleased with herself. 

“Sorry, girl. It’s been a long day…” You sigh. 

When you get home, you let Zio off the leash and feed her dinner then go and sit down on the couch. 

Now what? Job hunting… that’s what.

When Zio is done scarfing down her dinner, she comes and lays on the couch with you, putting her head on your lap, sweetly, as you search the holonet for the help wanted ads.

“It’s impossible to stay upset with you, you know that?” You pet her scaly skin and she rolls over so you can rub her belly. “I think you do actually know that.”

The next day, on your walk with Zio you can’t help but wonder if that Corrie from yesterday will be there. Not that you particularly care, you just want to steer clear of him.

You sit down on the park bench, pulling out your book after you make sure to clip Zio to the bench. 

“Zio, sit.” You tell her. 

She does and you give her a treat, patting her on the head and then open your book. While you read a couple chapters of your book, she lays at your feet, enjoying the warm Coruscant sun on her scaly skin. 

“Good girl.” You pat her again and then go back to your book.

“Um, excuse me.” You hear a familiar voice that you were really hoping to not hear. 

This time the voice wasn’t modulated, though. With a roll of your eyes, you sit your book down and look up at the Corrie. Except you were expecting a regular looking clone. Not an incredibly handsome bearded one with longer blond highlighted hair that’s pulled back out of his face.

To say you're stunned is an understatement. You’re practically speechless and you know your jaw must be on the ground. 

“Hi.” He smiles. “We met yesterday?” 

You look down at his massiff, you think his name was Grizzer, he’s got on his leash. Grizzer sniffs at Zio, who seems uninterested today. Maybe she was unimpressed after yesterday.

“I remember. Are you here to arrest me today?” You look up at him with a straight face.

“Actually, I came to bring you this.” He offers you a cup of caf. “We got off on the wrong foot.”

“Yeah, you were a bit of an asshole.” You nod. 

“I was… I’m sorry.” He continues to hold the caf out for you. “It was a bit of a rough day yesterday.”

“Yeah, me too…” You take the cup from him and scoot down the bench a bit as a way of asking him to sit. “Sorry about that.”

He nods and sits a little bit away from you, giving you space, and clips Grizzer to the bench. Zio sits up again, staring at Grizzer and the Corrie, still deciding if they’re a threat.

“No uh, helmet today?” You ask him, taking a sip of the caf, which is black. 

You reach into your bag for a few sweetener packets and then put the empty packets into your jacket pocket to throw away at home. 

“Sorry, I didn’t know how you took it.” The Corrie apologizes. 

“No worries. I always keep sweetener packets on me for when strangers offer me caf.” You smile finally. 

“Really?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

“No.” You chuckle.

He lets out a laugh, which you unfortunately can’t help but notice is nice and makes you smile a bit more.

“But yeah, no helmet today. I was um… hoping I’d run into you today and I didn’t want you to see me as a threat.” He admits.

Oh. “That’s very… thoughtful.” You nod.

He pats Grizzer on the head and then looks at you again. “I’m Hound.” 

You tell him your name and he smiles.

“It’s nice to meet you. Again, that is.” 

“Likewise. And this is Grizzer?” You nod at the massiff which is still sitting with his tongue hanging out, still watching Zio.

“Yeah. My good ol’ boy.” He rubs Grizzer’s head again. “Zio, right?” 

You nod, touched that he remembered her name. “Yeah.” 

“Well, it’s really good to meet you both.” He grins. 

You both sit there and sip your caf in comfortable silence, watching as your massiffs both lay back down, not missing that they’re pointed toward each other. 

“Is it okay if I ask why you had a rough day?” Hound asks after a while.

“Oh… I lost my job… and then spilled caf in my speeder… and then this brat got out.” You nod down at Zio before looking at him again. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” He tells you.

You can tell he’s genuinely sorry. You shrug, though. 

“I’ll figure it out.” You look out at the park.

“What did you do?” He asks.

“I worked at a bank as a teller for the last six years.” You sigh. “It wasn’t the greatest job in the entire world, but I’m fluent in many languages and I enjoyed seeing different people every day, you know?”

“Well… um… I know that my commander was looking to hire a receptionist for the chancellor.” Hound tells you. “If that’s something you’d be interested in?”

It’s sweet that he’s thinking of you like this, but you hate Palpatine. The man is a creep and gives you extremely bad vibes. Anytime you see him on the news, you can’t help but think that he looks like he’d be a villain in a movie.

“Yeah, no. I hate that guy.” You smile. “But thank you… seriously.” 

“So do we.” Hound shrugs. “Hate him, that is…”

You admire his honesty. You’d not dealt with many clones so you don’t have much to compare him to, but you’re surprised you’re enjoying Hound’s company. 

“He doesn’t care about the clones… just wants us to win his war.” Hound finishes his coffee and looks down at Grizzer.

Your heart breaks for him, this man you don’t really know. Him and the other clones. You’re not ignorant. You know that people don’t treat them like the human being that they are. It’s not right.

“Well, I better get home. I have to get cracking on the job hunting.” You tell him, not making a move to get up.

You don’t exactly want to leave, but you really do have a bit of a busy day planned. 

“If you’re not too busy in the morning… There’s this great breakfast spot near the Senate Dome that allows Grizzer in… I’m sure they’d let Zio in too?” He asks, taking a sip of his caf.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” You ask him.

“Yeah, I am.” He grins. “Even though you think I’m an asshole.”

“Used to…” You laugh. “But yes. Breakfast sounds nice.” 

You pull out an old business card, write your comm channel on it, and give it to Hound. 

“Send me the details.” You smile, unclipping Zio and standing up.

Hound does the same with Grizzer. “I’ll send you the deets.”

You chuckle. “Can’t wait.”

Turning with Zio, you start walking but hear Hound say “Grizz… did I really just say ‘deets’? Maker, I’m such a di’kut.”

You can’t help but chuckle to yourself as you continue walking home, already looking forward to the next morning.

TAGS: @grievouus @brynhildrmimi @madameminor @dumfanting @rain-on-kamino @misogirl828 @rexandechosandwich @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @twistedstitcher27 @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @agenteliix @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501

[laundrybiscuits]

(purify our misfit ways tag | AO3)

Sometimes he runs through the timeline in his head, trying to figure out: when they were trapped in the elevator, was he yelling at Gareth for fucking up the drum solo? When a sadistic goddamn Russian guard was making them bleed, was he already home and lighting up, Sabbath in the background?

He knows there’s probably not anything he could’ve done if he’d been there with them, but maybe—maybe it would’ve made a difference. Maybe if he’d been there, it would’ve helped somehow.

“Um, no,” says Steve, when Eddie makes the mistake of saying something to that effect. “Jesus, no. I’m really fucking glad you weren’t there, Eddie.”

“Huh. Okay,” says Eddie, a little hurt. He knows he’s not part of the new Steve-and-Robin thing or whatever, but still.

He’d driven Robin over to Steve’s place as a favor, because apparently Robin makes house calls at the Harrington estate now; he hadn’t really thought through the fact that he’d have to hang around until Robin is ready to go, seeing as Steve definitely isn’t capable of driving anytime soon, and now Robin’s in the bathroom and this might actually be the first time it’s ever just been the two of them in a room alone together, and this is what Steve Harrington chooses to say.

“No, I mean—” Steve goes to push his hand through his hair like he always does, and hisses as his bandaged hand catches on the strands. “I hate that Robin was there too. If I was worrying about taking care of you and Robin both, I’d…probably have done something really dumb.” Steve huffs, wincing. “Even dumber, I mean.”

“Who says I’d need you to take care of me? Who takes care of you, huh?” says Eddie. He doesn’t exactly mean to say it like that, and it comes out too soft.

Steve blinks at him like he’s just said something in Quenya, and Eddie…

Okay, so, when Eddie was a kid and still living with his ma, there was this mean old tomcat who’d come around. Never let anyone near, not that most people even wanted to get near something that ragged-looking and crusty. It wasn’t anything pretty or soft, looked like it had about a million diseases, and Ruth Munson had forbidden Eddie in no uncertain terms to go near the thing. Eddie hadn’t needed telling twice. He’d seen the tomcat take a real chunk out of a neighbor girl who’d tried to pet it, seen her hollering at the blood. Eddie wasn’t going to get himself bit like that, no way.

But then some real asshole had clipped the wretched beast out on the road, and Eddie’d found it mewling pitifully with a busted leg right outside his door, of all places. He’d never even tried to be nice to it before, but there it was looking up at him all big-eyed and limping and confused.

Turns out it’d been a savvy old tom to go to him after all, because Eddie’d taken one look and with all the resignation his eleven-year-old heart could muster, he’d thought: ah, hell. Guess this is happening.

Anyway, that’s the same feeling he gets looking at Steve Harrington, now.

Ah, hell.

The tomcat had still been kicking around when Eddie’d left to live with Wayne a few years later, more ancient and ornery than ever, but he’d always let Eddie sidle up close and rub the base of his ears even after his leg healed up and he didn’t need Eddie anymore. Went so far as to purr loud and ugly sometimes when Eddie did that, sputtering and wheezing up a racket like a broken-down motorbike. Even now, Eddie still thinks about him sometimes, wonders how he’s doing.

He rubs his eyes, suddenly wrung out. He hadn’t even known to be on his guard against this, but now it’s here, and he’s just going to have to ride it out until it reaches whatever tragic resolution it’s going to reach. He won’t make the same mistake he did with Robin, though; he’ll keep a leash on his greedy bastard of a heart until it learns not to push for stuff he can’t have.

It’s not the same, obviously. But it’s part of the same pattern; the kind of pattern that’s stretched over Eddie’s life, repeating again and again while he fails to learn his lesson. He’s always been too much for people to take, too hungry for stuff they can’t give him. This painfully tender thing that’s starting to unfurl in him whenever he looks at Steve, now, is just the dumbest part of him ignoring all the flashing red lights warning danger, danger, danger.

He can keep a lid on it, though. He can be better than the weakest part of himself this time. He has to be, because the thing is, Eddie has put in a lot of work into not being the probably-gay kid this time around. He can’t afford to let something slip in front of Steve Harrington, who despite all recent falls from grace is still someone people would believe if he ever said something about Eddie. The denizens of Hawkins High would definitely latch on, if word got around that Steve said something.

If Eddie has to go through the same thing he did back at his old school, but worse and more this time around because all the kids have sharper teeth, he’s—

He’s—

He’s not going to go through that, is all.

Honestly, Eddie had kind of thought he’d be past all this by this point in his life. He’s not sure what kind of life he’d thought he could have, but—a big city, maybe? New York, LA, Chicago, anywhere but Hawkins. It had seemed like a good starting point, but the city means money he doesn’t have, which means a real job he can’t get without the god damn diploma that keeps getting yanked away from him like he’s Charlie Brown chasing the god damn football.

His world is so small and petty, and he knows it, but it’s all he’s ever known. He never expected Steve to come creeping in at the edges, sweet and mean by turns, stealing his best friend and not even having the decency to be a real douchebag about it. Somehow becoming a pretty decent friend to Eddie, too.

Steve’s head is lolling against the back of the couch, eyes closed, breathing even. He’s still supposed to be on a bunch of medication, though Eddie has the sneaking suspicion Steve isn’t taking his pills as religiously as he should. He’s been complaining about feeling too fuzzy with the pills, not being able to think straight.

Personally, Eddie doesn’t really get it. If offered the choice, Eddie would take that cotton-wool layer between himself and the rest of the world any day of the week.

“Is he asleep?” Robin whispers, perching on the arm of the couch.

“No,” mumbles Steve, struggling back upright. “I’m awake. I’m here.”

Eddie glances over at Robin, biting down on a damningly fond smile. “Okay, sailor. How about we get you to bed, huh?”

Steve blinks at him, already sleep-flushed and hazy, and Eddie takes his elbow to tug him up gently. “C’mon. Robin, where’s his room?”

They get him all tucked in; Steve’s pliant, goes easy, and starts snoring before Eddie even hits the lights on his way out.

“I don’t think he’s been getting a lot of sleep,” says Robin.

“Yeah, seems like,” sighs Eddie. “How about you, Robbie? How’ve you been holding up?”

She frowns. “What are you talking about? It’s not like I even needed stitches or anything. Not like Steve did.”

“Sure, but.” He shrugs helplessly. “Buckley, you lived through a fucking nightmare too. Drugged by Russians in an underground lair, shit. It wouldn’t be unreasonable if it, you know, left a mark.”

She climbs into the passenger seat of his van, folding her legs up and wrapping her arms around her knees in blatant violation of automobile safety protocols. “I’m fine, Eddie. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Okay,” he says. “I mean, I’m gonna. You can’t stop me. I’m a rebel like that, totally off the chain.”

Robin grins, a bright flash in the low evening light, as he starts the van up to take her home. “Yeah, yeah,” she says. “Love you too, nerd.”

[broiderie]

Lost Princessa: Meet the Reaper 13

First things first - I'm terrified to be putting this up. It's my first attempt at anything passed make-out sessions. Please be gentle about it. And as always - don't steal my shit.

Warnings: nightmare, 18+ scene, cursing, talk of guns and weapons. Let me know if I missed anything please.

A few hours later, Hank startled awake as the dog nudged him with his nose. He started to get up when he realized that Rex wasn’t going to the door. Instead he was looking at Megan. Hank realized that he had been so tired from the day, he’d slept through what sounded like the beginning of a major nightmare from Megan.

He quickly reached to soothe her as he heard a muffled scream from her throat. “Easy, mi princessa. Easy. I’m here.” He eased her over onto her back so that she could feel him easier and he could stop her from hurting herself in her thrashing as he shifted to kneel between her knees. He braced his hands on her waist to keep her from rolling onto her bad side. “Wake up, Megan. Wake up, baby. You’re safe. I’m here. You’re safe with me.” He gave her a little shake, hoping to jar her awake a bit, but the nightmare had a strong hold on her.

Megan tossed her head and reached with her free arm whimpering as she tried to move the other one. 

He looked around and saw Rex watching from the floor. “Rex, come.” He patted the bed for the big dog, who jumped up. He moved over and put himself on Megan’s good side before encouraging Rex to lay across her legs and waist. Once the dog was steadying her, Hank moved to stroke her face and neck gently. “It’s just a dream, Princessa. I’m right here. Shhh. Easy, baby. Wake up for me.”

Megan’s eyes opened suddenly and she sobbed out a breath before reaching for him again.

He pressed his forehead to hers gently and let her cling to him. “Shh. Easy, mi Princessa. I’m right here. You’re safe, baby. Nothing’s getting through me.” Rex whined a bit. “Or Rex. He’s here too, baby. We’ve got you.”

Megan nodded as she worked to control her panic. She pressed her hand to his chest feeling his heartbeat and breathing as she sobbed.

He moved up to cradle her close and let her calm against his bare chest. When she curled into him, Rex moved up to support her back. Sandwiched between the two of them, Megan slowly calmed. Her breath evened out and she snuggled close. “Sorry.”

“You’re okay, mi amore. We’ve got you,” he whispered gently. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Megan shook her head. “It hasn’t changed.”

Rex licked her ear gently before laying his head down behind hers.

Megan giggled and whispered, “Good dog.”

Hank reached over her to pet him. “Yes, he is.” He laid back down and kissed her gently. “Think you can sleep again? Or should I get the book?”

Megan yawned. “Can we just… stay like this awhile?”

He cradled her close and stroked her hair out of her face before kissing her deeply, but gently. “Of course, mi amore. Rest. We’ve got you.”

Megan slowly relaxed in his arms and he watched as she fell back asleep. He smiled a little, but didn’t dare move for fear of her waking back up. One glance at the close on what used to be his nightstand and was now Rex’s, showed that it wouldn’t be long before she woke up anyway. Better that she get all the sleep she could.

A few hours later, Rex nudged Hank again before going to the door. This time, he did need out. “Alright buddy, I’m coming.” He tried to disentangle himself from Megan, but she woke up. “Easy, mi princessa. Just taking Rex out. Go back to sleep,” he tried.

Megan whined and stretched before sitting up. “‘Kay. Let’s go.” SHe slid out of bed slowly and slipped her feet into the flip flops he bought her for the beach.

He chuckled and stood to put on his slides while she clipped the leash to Rex’s collar.

They took him out and let him do his business before heading back inside. The coffee shop was just opening in the lobby as they passed it, Megan slowed down. “Want a cup? Papa and the tíos won’t be up yet.”

Hank smiled. “Sure, mi reina. Let’s get a cup. We can charge it to the room.”

They went to the counter and Hank ordered for them. Black coffee for him. Coffee with cream and three sugars for Megan.

“And - a puppichino for the puppy dog…” the female barista said with a wink.

Megan giggled and held the cup of whipped cream down for Rex. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!”

They took their coffee and walked back to the suite. It was early. Very early. The sun hadn’t started to rise quite yet. Megan found a door off the common room that led to a balcony overlooking the desert and took Rex out there. Hank detoured to their room to pull the comforter off the bed. He joined Megan on the balcony and wrapped her gently in the comforter before standing behind her. He held her back against his chest and kissed her temple as they watched the sun begin to rise.

“A new day,” she said.

He smiled. “A new day, mi amore. Today, you start something new. Are you anxious?”

“A little. This helps.” She leaned back against him a little more.

“Good. It’s supposed to.” He kissed her temple again. “Nothing has to change, mi amore. Not with the club. Not with the family. All this does is mean we can stick closer together. You can come on runs. Know everything and be right with us no matter what, and no one can say shit. Not Galindo, not the Irish, not anyone.” He rocked them gently back and forth. “That’s all any of this has to mean, baby. I can handle everything else when it comes down to it.”

“And if I want it to be more?” Megan asked. “If I want to help you, help the club?”

“Then you do, mi reina. But only on your own terms. Your papa and I will make sure of that. Everything is on your terms.” He nuzzled her ear and neck. “I promise you.”

“I trust you.” She tugged his hand inside the blanket he had wrapped around her and placed it against her skin where her tank top had ridden up above her sweats. 

“Good girl.” He kissed her neck gently and pressed her closer. “You look absolutely beautiful right now, Princessa. You have no idea.” He pressed himself against her back. “I love you, mi reina.”

Megan sucked in a breath and turned her head to meet his eyes. “Hank?”

“Yes, mi amore. Yes. I said it. I love you.” He leaned his forehead against hers.

Megan’s eyes teared and she kissed him softly. “I love you too. So much.”

He smiled and kissed her back. He let her turn into him so that she was facing him and kissed her again, sliding an arm around her waist and holding her as tight as her cast and sling allowed. His other hand cradled her neck and face, guiding her to kiss him deeper.

When he sensed her getting short of breath, he guided his kisses across her jaw and down her neck to nibble and gently suck a mark on her neck where it met her good shoulder as she moaned softly in his ear.

He chuckled and nudged her chin up with his nose so he could press more kisses there. “That’a girl,” he whispered as he gently nibbled under her ear. He felt her nails against the small of his back as she tried desperately to pull herself closer to him.

He walked himself backwards, tugging her along, to sit on the patio couch, pulling her to sit astride him. He kissed her again and felt her hops press into his, making his breath catch.

The rising sun highlighted her dark hair and as the blanket fell, he caught glimpses of her skin through her thin white tank top. The yellowing bruises made him pause.

Megan moaned softly again and it snapped him back to the pleasant feeling of the woman he loved on top of him. His hands shift to her hips, pressing her tight against his own, but allowing her to move at her own pace as she rocked against him. He stoked the skin over her low slung sweats with his thumbs encouragingly. “Good girl, mi Princessa.” He kissed her deeply again as her hand ran through his hair to cup the back of his neck as her hips rocked.

Megan whimpered a moan, causing him to groan into the kisses. One of his hands shifted to her lower back under her clothes to guide her motions and support ehr as her back arched. He kissed down her neck again to place wet kisses across her cleavage. “Mmm. That’a girl. Does that feel good, Princessa?” He chuckled against her skin as she nodded, too breathless to speak. “Good.” He sucked another mark at the top of her breast as he guided her rock against him a little harder and faster. She moaned and threw her head back at the increase in pressure. “There you go, amore. Are you close?” He lowered his head to suck gently at a hardened nipple through her shirt.

Megan whined softly and Hank took that as the affirmative. He smiled up at her and nipped gently at her bottom lip. “Let go for me, mi reina. I’ve got you.” She gasped softly and quivered against him as he helped her rock through her pleasure. He watched her face and slowed the motion to pull her against his bare chest. “Shhh,” he whispered. He stroked soothing motions down her spine as she shuddered her way through the come down. “Good girl.” He buried his face in her neck and breathed her in.

Once her breathing evened out, he pulled the blanket back up to cover her against his chest. She nuzzled close, kissing his skin and he grinned at how boneless she was against him. “You okay, mi princessa?” he asked quietly, continuing to stroke her back. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Megan giggled a little. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re still hard.” She looked up at him from her spot on his chest and stroked a hand down his bare side.

He smiled and shifted to kiss her nose. “I’m not the one with broken bones, mi amore. I’m fine. I can wait.” He kissed her softly.

Her eyes closed at his gentle kiss. “Mmm. I’m perfect,” she whispered, keeping her eyes shut and resting against him.

“Good. Let’s get showered and changed. The others will be up soon, and you need to eat.” He stood carefully, wrapping her legs around him and carrying her to the bathroom in their room.

After quick showers for both of them, Hank dressed himself for the meeting with Galindo in jeans and a t-shirt with his green and black plaid over it. He grinned as he realized the shirt smelled like Megan from when she borrowed it.

Megan was digging through her duffle. “What should I wear? I know this meeting is important to the club, but a dress doesn’t feel appropriate for what we’re trying to introduce me as.” She looked up at him.

“Well, you’ll be wearing your kutte for one. We want him to get used to seeing you in it. Think of it as a uniform,” Hank said.

Megan nodded. “The black jeans then.” She pulled them out. Her hand lingered on Hank’s soft colors a moment.

“You can wear them, mi reina,” he said with a smile as he buttoned his cuffs. “I love it when you do.”

She smiled back. “Me too, but it might not look good if we’re establishing me as an officer in my own right. Especially since we don’t want anyone thinking I slept my way in. You can’t take Galindo to the ring.”

Hank chuckled but nodded. “True enough, but I’d sure try if he said something.”

She pulled out another plain black t-shirt and added it to her pile to change into. She finished it off with her new boots from Taza. Hank helped her to unwrap her towel and dress carefully before gathering her blank kutte with a smile. Megan grabbed her hair stuff and they went out to the common room where everyone else was gathering for breakfast.

As morning greetings were exchanged, a cart with breakfast came to the door pushed by Adam, himself. Taza went to speak with him.

Megan sat down her hair bag and waited patiently. Creeper gently touched her elbow. “Need help, Little Princess?”

Megan smiled at him. “Maybe a little. Hard to braid with a busted arm.”

“Can I try? I’ve been practicing since your pop showed me how,” he asked. “I know it’s something special you two do, but -”

Megan smiled at the bald man brightly, “Sure Creep. Thanks.”

He grinned and stood behind her. “I’m not great yet, but let’s see what I can do.” He carefully divided her hair and managed a single french braid. It was a little lopsided and not very tight, but he managed it.

Hank watched with a soft smile as Megan let Creeper braid her hair. When the bald man tied it off triumphantly, he checked Megan’s hair bag. “Here, Creep. Tuck this in at the top.” He handed him one of the combs Diana had gifted Megan that she had yet to wear. It was silver filigree. 

Creeper gently slid the comb in with a smile of triumph. “There ya go, Little Princess.”

Megan grinned. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Marcus chuckled and brought Megan a cup of coffee. “Damn, Poquito. Who knew bikers could braid.”

“Ah, gimme time. I’ll get better at it,” Creeper said with a laugh.

Taza chuckled as well as he brought Megan a plate. “Pretty good for a first try, brother.”

“Figured if I fucked it up, at least you could fix it, man.”

“True enough. Looks good though.” Taza sat the plate down in front of Megan. “Here, Chica. Adam remembered about the pineapple. There’s also almond butter for your toast if you want it.”

Megan’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

Hank took that as his que and brought it along with his own plate and the honey. “Here you go, Princessa.”

“Thank you!” Megan said, smiling up at him before carefully spreading a little on her toast.

All of the men gathered around eating breakfast casually and talking. Most of them were planning to hit the casino while the others went to the bike shop. Coco claimed EZ for the day and Megan watched as Angel and Gilly sighed before declaring that they’d stick close too. Riz and the Oakland boys also planned to stay, leaving Creeper to go along this time with Megan, Hank, Taza and her padrinos.

“We’re just picking up the patches, right?” Megan asked seriously.

“Maybe a few other things, Chica,” Taza said with a smile.

She rolled her eyes. “There are TWO vehicles out there loaded down with ‘other things’, Papa…”

Bishop snorted at the sass. “Maybe so, Poquito, but the van isn’t full yet.”

The other men laughed. 

Marcus smiled at her from across the table. “Relax, Poquito. We’ll just look for things you might like to customize your new rides, alright? Besides, last time I was there, there was a whole section for dogs. We can pick some things out for Rex.”

That made Megan pause as she glanced at her big dog, who was contentedly eating in the corner. “Well… he does need some things…”

Bishop grinned. “That’a girl, Poquito.”

After breakfast, Megan went to gather the rest of her things. She didn’t even flinch at leaving the room where her father and Hank were. She brought out both holsters and her new knife. She debated the thigh bag, but decided against it for the day since they would only leave the casino to go to the bike shop.

Hank grinned as he saw her carrying things. “Need some help, mi princessa?”

“Please. If I’m going to do this shit, it won’t be unarmed.” She smiled sheepishly.

“Too right, ma,” Coco said as he came out of his room shrugging on his own kutte. “Anyone bring her kevlar?”

All the men shook their heads.

Coco looked at Bishop. “Prez - I don’t like it.”

Marcus held up a pacifying hand. “I’ve got Marco on it. There’s some that are more concealable than our usual and he’s gonna get it before the meeting. It’ll be lighter on her too.”

Bishop gestured at Coco. “See. We’ve got her covered.”

Megan shook her head. “Gonna bubblewrap me while you’re at it?”

Hank grinned as he started threading her knife sheath on her belt for her. He was sure to do it so the hilt was reachable with her left hand. He ducked his head and chuckled as some of the men stared at her in shock.

Coco shrugged. “Think it’ll help?”

José snorted into his coffee as he laughed.

Megan grinned. “Probably not.”

Taza passed by as he went to retrieve his own kutte and jacket and dropped a kiss on her hair. “That’a girl,” he said as he went.

Marco chuckled and shook his head. “Princessa’s got sass this morning.”

Hank just grinned as he stood from fastening her ankle holster. “Told you. You should see her behind a bar.”

Megan giggled.

“Alright, mi amore. Ready for your shoulder rig?” Hank asked, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck.

Megan took a deep breath and nodded.

Hank unstrapped her sling while she supported ehr arm. Then he carefully maneuvered the holster over her cast and situated it before strapping her sling back into place.

“Yo... Don’t that hurt?” Gilly asked.

Hank quickly got the other shoulder on her and adjusted buckles while Megan breathed through the pain.

Once he was done, Megan smiled tightly. “Not so much once it’s on. This rig distributes the weight more towards my back than my collar bone. Besides- it’s easier for me to draw left-handed this way.”

Gilly winced. “Why not the waist holster until you heal?”

Megan shrugged her good shoulder. “The weight isn’t bad. I promise. And this is more concealable. Plus, I kept dropping my gun drawing from the waist with my left.”

Gilly shook his head. “If this wasn’t with Galindo, I’d say stick to the pee shooter.” He pointed at her ankle. “But I know you’d rather your 9.”

Hank frowned at Gilly. “She knows what she’s doing, man.” He looked Megan over. “All good, Princessa? Need adjusted anywhere?”

Megan smiled up at him. “All good, but I forgot something to cover my holster…”

“I can get something if you want to harness Rex, mi amore. Flannel or hoody?” Hank asked.

“Flannel please. Doesn’t matter which one,” she said with a smile as she popped up on her tiptoes to kiss him.

“Alright. Be right back.” Hank went to find her a flannel in their room.

Megan called Rex over and got him to step into his harness before looking at Gilly. “He’s not wrong. You’re going to have to trust that I know what I’m doing at some point, Gilly. Best to start with me knowing my own limits.” She clipped the harness closed and petted Rex gently. “My body. My choice.”

Gilly shrugged uncomfortably and glanced around before realizing that she’d said it quiet enough not to draw attention from the other men in the room. “I know. Sorry, Princessa. I just don’t like to think you’re in pain.”

Megan nodded. “I understand, but Gilly…” she looked him straight in the eyes. “Not your girl. Not your choice.”

He winced and nodded. “Alright, Princessa. I get the picture.”

“Good.” She stood and patted his shoulder as Hank returned with a dark green flannel.

“Here, Princessa. Let’s get this on you.”

Taglist:

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[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I’ve just watched Heart-Throbs, the third and final of the Peacock & Gamble double act Edinburgh hours. The first was Emergency Broadcast in 2011, which isn’t online (that I’ve found) as a whole show, but there are a bunch of video clips on Pateron from various nights as well as a partial audio bootleg of an early WIP, and I can put those together to have a pretty decent idea of what went on, I think. Then Peacock & Gamble Don’t Even Want To Be On Telly Anyway, from which we’ve been blessed with two different hour-long videos, one the first WIP and one from Edinburgh, and that’s amazing. And Heart-Throbs, a full video of the first night in Edinburgh that was uploaded relatively recently, as well as a couple of clips from a WIP, and a compilation of times when later versions deviated from that first night. Really a lot of stuff for not very much money, if anyone else happens to be interested in this and wanted to find them on this Patreon page.

Emergency Broadcast, I get the impression was cool because so little of it had been actually written beforehand, so much was worked out during WIPs and even during the run in Edinburgh, so many curveballs were thrown with such force, so much was just funny stuff that had come up between them in random moments and got chucked at the wall during the show. It felt spontaneous and exciting that way. Don’t Even Want to Be On Telly Anyway was so good – so very, very good – because it clearly had been carefully written beforehand, there was obviously some room for off-leash behaviour but this one had coherent narratives and themes and a whole lot of work gone into making it seem effortless, ramshackle in a curated way, it all fit together.

Heart-Throbs was… maybe not quite as much of the best of either of those worlds, I thought, but still really, really good. I’ll put it this way – in 2012, they got four stars from Chortle, and they got angry because they said it was a five-star show. A bold claim, thinking four stars isn’t good enough. But I think they were actually right. Very few things are five-star shows, but Don’t Even Want To Be On Telly Anyway seemed like probably a five-star show. Heart-Throbs also got four stars from Chortle, and that seems fair, Heart-Throbs was probably a four-star show. Some of it seemed slightly less well written than the previous one, but it was still better than most other shows. In my personal and subjective opinion, which is definitely more accurate than Steve Bennett’s personal and subjective opinion.

Some of it was still brilliant though. There were a few amazing individual sketches. Ray Peacock singing a song from Greece at the top of this voice, committing to the bit so hard for the entire song, made me laugh very hard. There was a great sketch with a deer-based game show where Ed Gamble got to also be funny, as opposed to some of the show where he was kind of sidelined (the joke was that Ed Gamble is sick of being the unfunny straight man, but the only way those jokes could work was by making him kind of actually an unfunny straight man). Ray Peacock playing a waiter was amazing. They both threw their entire voices into all of it and I’m surprised they could still speak by the end of the run.

The narrative was slightly harder to follow than the one in the previous show, more convoluted and further removed from reality. This one was a story they’d invented entirely, rather than the previous one where they exaggerated bits of real life, which may be why it wasn’t as easy to keep track of the thread. Though there was definitely still some dramatic irony in this one, like in the previous one. It ends on a poster of Ray and Ed the says they’ll be “best friends together at the bottom [of mainstream success] – all the time, everywhere, every day”, which I think can still count as ironic even if it's just a picture of fictional characters played by them. It packs an extra punch if you see it in 2024. Not even a punch that has anything to do with them, just a general remembering that yeah, sure, we all made promises in 2013. You make promises in 2013 about being underdogs together but then someone gets a couple of spots on the national team or offers from national training centres or a call from Mock the Week or whatever and then where did that go? It’s fine, you cannot hold people to everything they said in 2013. That was a message in the fictional narrative that they definitely did not intend to write into it at the time.

There were so many funny bits in Heart-Throbs though, possibly more individual funny moments that I'll remember from this one than from Don't Even Want To Be On Telly Anyway, if I look back when they're not both fresh in my mind. Both characters got to have even more breakdowns in this show, and those are always funny. I'm probably not going to be able to go any more Mother's Days without thinking about the joke that if your birthday is on Mother's Day it means you're a mother. I don't know why but that's probably going to be the one I remember the most.

[marinerainbow]

SAY HELLO TO MY BABY LILLY!!!

I have more kitty pictures to add to this because we all need more fluffiness in our worlds!

I also got Lilly a cat leash. I'm hoping that I can take her to a park or something and let her sate her curiosity of the world and burn her infinite energy XD but first, cat backpacks so she gets used to being outside and wearing the harness.

AND THE F/O'S OH MY GOD-

Jerry... You won't wear the backpack for my baby?? For me???? 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺... Fine, you can't walk in the sun anyway. Billy! Billy, do you care about the pack being pink like somebody over here?? Also, please take pictures of Lilly and Jerry. I need them, Billy. Don't worry, Jerry. You can still watch Lilly ^^ Billy can be in charge of her walks if he wants to.

Bold of you to assume I'm gonna wrap Kingstons adoption signatures. We all know that these scars are the price you pay when you become a cat parent XD (I will patch my king up though, don't worry 🥺) I just want to walk into the room and see Kingston grinning, cradling the precious little kitten, while she completely shreds up his hands XDDD but you know what's even BETTER??? When Lilly is sleepy, she crawls onto whoever, usually me, and will fall asleep on them 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 Kingston better be prepared to cradle that baby for lord knows how long (I NEED! TO SEE! STAR STRUCK! KINGSTON! WITH! SLEEPY! BABY LILLY!!!!)

Omg Lilly getting a manicure from Tiffany!!!... I want to "aw" at that, but Lilly doesn't like her claws to be touched 😅😅😅 we have to burrito her in towels when clipping them. But I know if anybody can get Lilly to stay still during nail care time, it has to be Tiffany ^^ (Chucky you better stay tf away from my baby while Tiffany has her. I will tape TNT to your precious amulet if you do.)

RJ CARRYING LITTLE LILLY AROUND I CAN'T- Omg omg omg. He is a GIANT and he KNOWS his siblings, so I know that she's in good hands with him ^^ He can show her around the farm! Introduce her to the cows. Carefully introduce her to the dogs. Baby, my love, I'm sorry, but... RJ is more qualified for the job. You can visit her! (As long as RJ is supervising)... Mama Firefly, I'll get back to you. Tiny, I'm not sure. I'll let RJ be the judge on whether or not him hokding Lilly is a good idea. OTIS IF YOU EVEN GLANCE LILLY'S WAY I WILL ZOOM OVER FROM CHIPOTLE AND RUN YOU OVER WITH MY BOYFRIENDS TRUCK-

Hannah... Hannah? Would you do me a favor and convince your Scarecrow husband to build an impenetrable, soundproof, and comfortable kitty backpack for my husband Tin to use when he babysits Lilly?? I would go into the lab myself, but I don't think he'd listen to me XD But IMAGINE!! If Tin got that pack, he could take Lilly with him while he's on his 'patrols'!!! Lilly won't hear a thing, won't be at risk of getting hurt, she'll just be curled up napping while my husband takes care of business. And! And LION INTERACTING WITH LILLY IS WHAT I NEED!!! They're both cats! They get each other!!! Since Lilly is a kitten, could Lion potentially be a father figure for her?? 🤔🤔🤔 idk, but TIN, I TRUST YOU THE MOST OUT OF EVERYONE HERE! (next to Ryan since he's an animal expert).

Oh, hell yeah. Terry may not actively throw shit at Wheezy, but he will snatch his hot friends cigarettes out of his mouth before pointing to the window or door, "Y'don't smoke around Lottie, right? Well, same rule applies to the cat. Get goin'." If Wheezy won't go, Terry will smoke his pack up (then have a coughing fit because yes, he's a smoker, but he is nowhere NEAR Wheezy's level-). Terry is my creation; he knows I'm willing to commit warcrimes for my furbaby XD AND!!!!! Oh my gosh, Ryan 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 you'll break a table over someone's back for Lilly??? Wheezy is trying to dodge the attacks, but all I hear are wedding bells. (Imagine if Kingston heard I gave Lilly to Ryan for the day, and now he's all pouty he can't hold the baby XD either that or, most likely, he just decides to drop in on Terry's place)

Anyways, I better calm myself down XD as you can see, Lilly makes me go just a teensy bit feral. Thank you for answering this ask!!!

I have a very important ask to send you...

I took my baby Lilly on her first walk today ^^ we went to the store.

I promise I didn't leave the flap open the whole time xD and even so, she has a little leash inside the backpack for her own safety.

Lilly was very well behaved at the store, helped me pick out some soap, and she got plenty of attention from the clerks ^^ she was silent the whole walk, which kinda scared me, but she was more fascinated with the whole world than scared ^^ and yes, I gave her treats when we came home. That is very important 🤍🖤🤍🖤

(Ngl now that I'm home, I can't help but imagine myself with my responsible F/O's like "Your mission, should you choose to accept it," *hands over kitty backpack and the baby* "You must take Lilly on a walk and give her lots of love while I'm at work." XD also, for you, Moony would be going insane over pet backpacks and would get one for Cake.)

EVERYBODY LOOK AT LILLY!

Oh my goodness, Lilly's big day out <3 Of course the clerks loved her!! XD I bet she was the highlight of their day! ☀☀☀☀

And that thing the backpack) is SO CUTE XDD I've only ever seen pram versions, I didn't know their were backpack versions that is adooorabe!! Omg, Moony with one of these 💥💛💥💛💥 ! ! ! Thats it, thats the cute overload for today-

Also- below, find your responsible F/O's (Plus Ryan- I'm not sure if he counts XD) reactions to their mission XD

You; "Your mission, should you choose to accept it," *hands over kitty backpack and the baby* "You must take Lilly on a walk and give her lots of love while I'm at work."

Jerry: He is not wearing that, but he will take the BEST care of Lilly I promise XD She will live in his lap or on his shoulder for the duration of your work day. Imagine Jerry walking around his house doing his thing (Whatever that may be, when he is not luring in dinner or scaring off teenagers) with LILLY ON HIS SHOULDER-

Imagine him talking to her. Should I have the O Negative or the AB Negative for lunch? Come on, you're a soulless creature of the night, too, don't judge me. // Do you like MTV? // Oh look, Peter Vincent on channel 9- Still an idiot I see... Sure is entertaining, though.

Imagine Billy telling on him for all his chatter when you get back XD

Kingston: Kingston's gonna end up with scratched up hands you're going to need to wrap up because he lets Lilly use him (His hands, his arms, his back, whatever) like a cat toy. Its like he doesn't even feel the pain, he's having too much fun playing with the kitty XD

RJ: "... okay." *Has Lilly living on his shoulder all day while he works, givin her treats and neck scratchies*

Tiffany: "Oh baby, you got it! C'mon, Lilly, come with momma."

Lilly my come back with painted claws, but she sure as hell was loved during her time with Momma Tiff XD

DMD!Tin: IMAGINE. THIS TERRIFYING MACHINE MAN WITH DENTISTS TOOLS FOR FINGERS. WALKIN AROUND. WITH A PINK CAT CARRIER WITH A KITTEN INSIDE ON HIS BACK-

Of course he accepts the challenge, and he takes it very seriously, and treats Lilly with the utmost softness; taking extra care not to hurt her.

He lets Lion visit with the little cat, but watches painfully closely and takes Lilly away the instant that he notices the look in Lion's eyes change from adoration and amusement to hunger.

Wheezy (And Ryan!): These two go and hang out with Terry at his place for the day to get away from their crazy roommates and they all watch TV for the day taking turns holding and petting Lilly. Ryan and Terry make Wheezy take regular smoke breaks so he wont smoke around her (Yes, make. I dunno about Terry but Ryan throws things at Wheezy if he doesn't go. He's taking his new friends health very seriously, here!! XD It is a baby, after all. Damn. (Wheezy goes though, he agrees its a good idea. But fuck is it hell. Lucky yer cute, he says, holding the kitten).

[quaranmine]

How to Be a Human Being (Chapter Ten)

Boatem is in the void.

Masterpost | Chapter Nine

Words: 4742

We've gotten too far into this fic without any mortal peril, huh?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

It’s odd how reality started to drip away from you as you floated in the void. Grian was accustomed to falling into the Boatem Hole and dying after a few seconds, but the moon’s gravity was stronger now and none of them had truly felt gravity in a long time. As such, he found himself sort of floating next to Mumbo, going downwards at a nearly imperceptible pace. 

The light from the Boatem Hole was still visible–the hole itself was still visible. Grian thought he could see a torch flicker way up above, but then it suddenly vanished from view. The whole view of their world seemed to be warping and fading as they fell deeper, and the bedrock seemed to move under his gaze. It made him dizzy.  

He looked up anyway, because this was the last time he’ll ever see their home. 

The void was dark and full of inky blackness right up until it wasn't. There were little lights on the horizon, like purple and blue stars, though they seemed to move and blink when Grian moved his head. Scar, Impulse, and Pearl were below him and Mumbo–the two of them had fallen a bit slower than the others after Scar failed to include the correct amount of escape hatches for them. 

“Grian! Mumbo!” Scar shouted, snapping Grian out of his thoughts. 

“Yeah?” he replied.

“You’re too far away. We should be tethered together.”

“Oh,” Mumbo muttered. “Does that mean we’re gonna float off, then? I really don’t fancy floating off into the void alone. Or with you, no offense.”

“No, they’re saying they’re gonna toss us a tether,” Grian replied. “Look, Impulse is holding it right now. Get ready.”

Impulse tossed them the tether. It missed the first time, with the void being difficult to account for since it behaved differently than air. The second time, though, Mumbo caught it. 

“I caught it!” he said.

“Tie my suit onto yours,” Grian said. 

“Oh, how should I . . .”

Grian rolled his eyes and took the tether from Mumbo, and slid the tether through one of the metal rings on his suit before clipping the carabiner on the other end to a ring on Mumbo’s suit and locking it. “Now we’re both attached to each other.”

“I could have tied that tether, you know. I’m good with tying knots, I just didn’t know which one to choose for this.”

“I’d rather see your knots when our lives aren’t on the line. Using the clip is easier. It’s made for this, you know.”

Impulse reeled them back down until everyone was at the same level together, and then they all took turns attaching the tether to one another until they floated in a line. There was enough slack to move around if they wanted, but nobody was going to drift away from the group. Grian gave it about five minutes before they were all tangled up in each other like a dog accidentally wrapping a leash around its leg. 

“Now we won’t float off!” Scar said, triumphantly. “This is so cool, it’s like a spacewalk. I’ve always wanted to do one of those, you know.”

“Wish it was in better circumstances,” Impulse said. 

“Or, you know, actually in space,” said Grian. The group sort of uncomfortably agreed with that, and fell silent for a bit. Boatem, on most days, were never silent when all put in a room together at once. There was always something going wrong, someone teasing someone, someone making a joke, someone accidentally (or purposefully) killing another, someone scamming, someone planning, or someone arguing. But it didn’t feel like there was a lot to say right now. 

Mumbo finally broke the silence. “So, er, Scar, where exactly are we going?”

“Yeah,” Pearl added. “What are we supposed to do now?”

“Um,” Scar said. 

“Scar,” Grian said, not liking that tone.  

“Um, well you see, I, uh, didn’t plan that far?” Scar explained hastily, hands thrown up placatingly. “I just built the rocket, you know! And the suits! I did those too. And, I got us out of there, but I didn’t really make a plan for how we’re getting out of here. I didn’t have time for that.”

“You made us go in here without a way to get us out?” Pearl exclaimed, at the same time Mumbo started making distressed noises and stumbled over some comment about how they were all trapped here and going to die. 

“Well what was your plan to get us out of there?” Scar asked defensively. 

“I was going to blow up the moon,” Mumbo said. 

“Yeah, and how did that work out for you?” Grian said sarcastically. 

“It’s not my fault you all distracted me so I couldn’t detonate it in time!”

“Oh, blame it on me-”

Pearl cut in. “Mumbo, wasn’t it also your idea to start a cult around not sleeping so that we’d appease the moon god or whatever?”

“YOU joined it! If it was such a bad idea, then why did everyone here join it?” Mumbo cried. “Besides, that was all a lie. How could any of you believe that? It was so silly, I can’t believe you fell for it.”

“I don’t need to sleep,” Pearl said. “It doesn’t matter if I joined it because it had no effect on me.”

“You were dead serious about the Mooners. Don’t lie, I saw it,” Grian said at the same time. “You roped me into it.”

“You wouldn’t sleep because you wanted to measure the moon!” Mumbo exclaimed. “I didn’t rope you in because you never even believed me.”

“Maybe I’d have believed you if you hadn’t tricked me into giving my soul away earlier this season,” Grian said, and actually enjoyed the hurt look on Mumbo’s face for a moment. “And yeah, I measured the moon. I wanted to actually do something about it!”

“Did you?” Mumbo asked, quietly. “Did you do something about it?” 

Grian stopped. Because, well, he hadn’t. Not really. All he had was a book of numbers carefully scratched out proving the moon was getting bigger. Which was something he already had empirical evidence of every time he stepped outside at night.

“I asked Scar,” he said, “to build us a rocket.”

“I never slept,” Scar said mildly. “Except when I needed to. That whole Mooner business was funny, though.  And I built the rocket, didn’t I? I did what you asked!”

“You’re like talking to a genie, Scar, I swear. Ask you for one thing and you better be specific or else you’re gettin’ something else. I asked for the rocket so we could go to space,” Grian shouted. “Not the void! You know, because rockets are for space. I thought you were supposed to be the space-person on the server, you talk about it all the time!”

“Scar-X has never had an unsuccessful space mission,” he defended. 

“That’s because you’ve never had a space mission,” Mumbo muttered. “And this still isn’t one.”

“Why didn’t you build a rocket, Grian?” Scar asked. 

“Because I don’t know how! That’s why I asked you!”

“I still got us out of there.”

“Yeah,” Pearl said. “Into the void where we might all die.”

“Well, that’s just a little pessimistic,” Scar pointed out. “Lighten up, Pearl! We’re all here, aren’t we?”

“I don’t even know where here is,” Mumbo said. “Are we sure this is better than before? I mean, really. Couldn’t we have just left the server? Wouldn’t some place, like, I dunno, Empires take us all in for a bit?”

“The moon made the server unstable. The server instability was making portals unsafe to use, at the end,” Pearl said. “We wouldn’t have been able to properly escape to someone else’s world without risking it too with the instability. So our best bet is finding a new blank world, so if the portal fails then we don’t risk anyone else. That’s what Xisuma said during the meeting.” 

“Oh thank God,” Scar said. “Someone who actually listened during that.”

“Guys,” Impulse said. The others bickered over him. 

“Maybe you should listen harder,” Grian commented, “because then you’d remember I commissioned a spaceship, not a device to drop us all in the void.”

“Oh, ‘cause you have a great track record of listening to everything people tell you, don’t you, Grian?” Pearl scoffed.

“Guys,” Impulse said again. 

“Are you gonna start now too, Pearl?” Grian said. “Because I don’t remember you doing much about the moon either!”

“I couldn’t hurt my moon cousin!”

“You literally watched when Mumbo tried to blow it up.”

“Well, it sure looks like it was coming to hurt us,” Mumbo said. “Also, did we ever set a place to meet back at? Pearl said Xisuma said we’re supposed to find a blank world, but did anyone ever get where we’re going?”

“I imagine that’s what our communicators are for,” Scar said. 

“Guys,” Impulse said a third time, finally breaking into their argument. “Somethin’s wrong.”

“Yeah,” said Pearl. “We’re stuck here and nobody agreed on a way to get us out of here.”

Scar opened his mouth, ready to defend himself once again, but Mumbo cut him off. “No, uh–I think Impulse is right. Something’s wrong.” He drifted over in front of Impulse, and squinted. “Are you okay buddy?”

Impulse blinked. He wasn’t really looking directly at Mumbo, and instead appeared to be watching some point just above his shoulder. “I don’ think so,” he mumbled. 

Grian, Pearl and Scar drifted closer. Impulse was breathing fast, quick sharp breaths that fogged up his helmet a little. “Guys, give him space,” Pearl said. “Let him breathe. You’ll freak him out some more and if he’s panicking then that’ll just make it worse.”

“He’s slurring his words,” Scar noted. “What’s going on? Impulse? Can you tell us?”

“My head hurts,” he said. 

“Try to take deeper breaths,” Pearl said. “You’re gonna be alright.”

“I can’t,” Impulse said. He slowly lifted his arm, like maybe he was going to grab onto Pearl for support, but instead he did the one thing Grian didn’t expect: he started to remove his helmet. 

They exploded into action–really, too many people in such a small space, with Mumbo shouting Don’t! while Pearl grabbed one of Impulse’s arms and Grian grabbed the other and yanked it downwards. Impulse’s fingers had moved too clumsily to keep up with his friends’, and Grian let out a hot breath when he realized that the helmet was still securely on. 

Or was it?

“Why did he do that?” Pearl shouted, at the same time Grian gave the all clear that the helmet was still attached properly. “Impulse, that would have killed you!”

“Impulse?” Mumbo said. “What happened?”

Impulse looked at Mumbo almost like he’d forgotten he was there, despite Mumbo having been next to him this whole time. “Can’ breathe,” he said. “I need . . .” He reached for his helmet again, but Grian held down his arm. It didn’t take a lot of effort. 

“He thinks he needs to take the helmet off,” Grian said. “He can’t breathe and he thinks that it’s obstructing him.”

“He’s confused,” Scar said. “He’s not getting enough oxygen. That’s why he’s not speaking right, why his head hurts, and why he’s not focusing on us properly.” He paused for a long second and took a deep breath. “I don’t have to tell you guys that this isn’t good.”

“Did you pack enough?” Mumbo said. “Oxygen, I mean? Our suits don’t have–they don’t have tanks. Oh my god,” he muttered, “we don’t have tanks . . .”

Scar frowned. “We don’t need them. The suit recycles the air. I know a thing or two about that and used it to make the design more compact.”

“How- It recycles carbon dioxide to air? Like a plant? In the void?” Grian asked, puzzled. He shook his head stiffly. “Doesn’t matter. It doesn't matter! He’s not getting enough oxygen. Is it broken? Is your weird device broken?”

“I don’t think it’s broken,” Pearl said, examining him. “I don’t think his exhaling is the problem. I think it’s the void. I think there’s a leak.”

“My suits don’t have leaks,” Scar answered immediately. 

“Well maybe they do,” Grian said. “Clearly they do.” It came out harsher than he expected, and Scar flinched, eyes wide.

“Is it–a slow leak?” Mumbo said. “We've been down here an awfully long while.”

Grian remembered his rules of the void uneasily. While they’d been arguing earlier, they all drifted well beyond the normal point of no return. There was no more slow falling from the moon’s gravity, because they were no longer in any realm the moon could affect. They were in a part of the void nobody had ever seen except the creatures that lived here, because it killed everyone who passed through it. And as far as Grian knew, nobody in Boatem was a voidwalker.

There’s not many things with a 100% mortality rate. People survive falls with feather falling. People survive lava with potions of fire resistance. People survive viruses with medicine and vaccines. People survive drowning through water breathing potions and making pockets of air. But the void? It didn’t matter if you had wings or an elytra or potions or armor, if you fell too deep and passed that gradient to the point of no return, it killed you every time. 

And death didn’t like to be cheated.

The void wants YOU. It wants to gnaw on the edges of you and run tendrils up through your nasal passages and dig its fingers into your lungs until you burn up from the inside out and die, leaving you body and all your possessions as a gift to the unknown.

“There must be a hole in his suit,” Grian said. “He’s being choked by the void. That’s what it does to you. It chokes you and suffocates you and burns you up on the inside.”

Scar looked horrified. “Check the seal of his helmet!” he cried. “It might be a bad seal.”

“You don’t think he managed to get it loose earlier?” Mumbo asked. 

“No,” Grian said. “He didn’t. I think he’s been losing air for a while, letting the void in instead.”

Pearl was examining Impulse’s helmet, running her gloved fingers across the seal. Scar started rummaging through his pockets on the suit. “I think I . . . I think I have something to fix the seals,” he muttered. “If I can find it.”

“Please find it,” Mumbo said. He wrung his hands. 

“Impulse?” Grian said. “Are you alright?”

There was a long pause and Grian almost thought he wasn’t going to respond at all. “I don’ wanna die,” he said after a moment. 

“You’re not gonna die!” all the other Boatem members shouted at once. 

“Can you keep talking to me?” Grian said. 

Nothing. 

“Impulse?” He peered through Impulse’s helmet, but Impulse didn’t make eye contact. The quick breaths had stopped and there was no more fog on the inside of his helmet. He just looked sleepy. They needed to work fast. 

“Ugh!” Pearl said, and made some other noise Grian couldn’t have translated if he tried. “I can’t find anything! I thought I might be able to but I can’t feel a thing in these gloves.”

They all looked at Scar. He was quiet. “I can’t find the material to fix the seal,” he said softly, staring at the not-ground below them and refusing to look them in the eye. “I don’t know if it wouldn’t have worked in the void either. For all I know it would react somehow and dry up the moment it left the tube.”

Impulse’s side of the tether started to pull taut a little, and he suddenly sunk down.

“He’s not supporting his own weight anymore,” Grian said, feeling ice drip down his veins.

Pearl was supporting the back of his head from where she’d been trying to feel the edge of the seal. “He’s unconscious.” The words were loud and then fizzled, consumed in the thickness of the void. There was no echo here. It was just for the four of them to hear. 

“I don’t have the material to fix the seal. We don’t know where the leak is. I made the suits faulty. I trapped us here,” Scar said vacantly. 

“Is he going to die?!” Mumbo shouted hysterically. 

“If he can’t breathe,” Pearl said. “We have to fix it.”

“He can just respawn, won’t he? Right? He can still respawn, right?”

“I don’t think he can,” Grian said quietly. “The void is shared in all worlds, right? We’ve fallen beyond our world’s void. We don’t belong to any world right now, we’re in the void’s realm. I don’t know what happens when you respawn out here. You don’t have a world to go back to. And if he did, who’s to say that our server is still intact and the moon hasn’t crashed by now?”

Where can you go, if there’s no place to go back to? Where do you go if you die in between worlds?

“He’s going to perma-die,” Scar said. 

“Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know. I hope not,” Grian said, but the uncertainty wasn’t hopeful. It just dragged them further down like an anchor chained to his feet. 

“We don’t have time to talk about this!” Pearl said. “We have to work fast! Even if we can save him, we can’t wait too long or it’ll cause brain damage.” Pearl pulled Impulse closer, clutching onto him. Maybe if she held tight enough, he’d stay. “If you have any ideas, please, we need them now.”

“I don’t- I don’t,” Scar repeated. Mumbo spun in place, like he’d find something other than the endless void around them to use and save the day. 

Grian was frozen, like the ice that had dripped through his veins had finally rooted him to the spot and he couldn’t move. He couldn’t lose another friend. Not again, not again, not again. 

Scar laid a hand on Grian’s arm and he was violently snapped back to the present. They were all on thin ice, and it was getting thinner and thinner as time moved forward. Cracking, ready to plunge Impulse into the icy depths where he’d drown. But Impulse was still here for now. He was going to die if he couldn’t get more oxygen. But he wasn’t dead yet.

He couldn’t lose him. And–maybe, for once, Grian could do something about it. 

He reached deep within himself, and tried to pull out a power he’d nearly forgotten. Nearly, because for once the soul-sharing with Mumbo had paid off–he’d been forced to pull it out of dormancy, brush it off, and practice it just so Mumbo would know what Watchers were capable of. It was like a little tendril in his core, difficult to grasp but in clear focus now.

Watchers were creative beings, perhaps second only to their stated purpose of watching. They blessed the world with materials, and facilitated updates. They created towers and things and gave players items, be they good or bad. They had access to blocks normal players didn’t, and placed them as easily as they could manipulate the rest of the world’s building blocks. 

And Grian had always been a builder, even before he’d been blessed with the Watchers’ creative ability and then rejected it once more. Maybe that’s why they liked him. It was a better reasoning than anything else he’d come up with. 

But Grian wasn’t making a house right now, or an obelisk or a maze or trap like the Watchers would have. He had one simple goal in mind: create something, anything, to keep his friends safe in the void. 

The answer came inelegantly in the strongest material his panicked mind could think of: a plain bedrock box. 5x5, for 5 people. 

A thunk echoed through the small space as the last block slid in place, punctuated only by his own gasping breaths. Just like mining out a space underwater, there was a small pocket of air in here. Grian didn’t know how long it would last, but he wasn’t worried about the future. The sound of his friend breathing would be enough. 

Pearl sank to the newly-present floor along with Impulse. With shaky hands, she yanked on the helmet clasp, pulling it free. There was no sound–for some reason, he thought that taking the helmet off should have made a hissing sound, but it didn’t. There wasn’t a proper seal to break, he supposed. 

“Is he breathing?” Grian said. 

“Yeah,” Pearl said. “He is.” She rested the front of her helmet on the top of Impulse’s head. The lighting in the room was dim and murky, throwing glare on the helmets and leaving the corners in thick shadows, but Grian thought her cheeks looked wet. 

The lighting in the room was dim and murky. Grian realized abruptly that there was no light. No proper lighting. It was just him glowing–his eyes, his skin, the power glowing at his palms and still shining under the gloves. 

Oh. He probably didn’t look human anymore. That’s alright though, wasn’t it? Because his friends were all here, in this box, and he could see them all and reach out and touch them if he wanted, and he could listen to them breathe because they were all alive. 

He dropped to his knees, suddenly feeling very tired, and tried to put his head between his knees the best he could in his helmet. 

Scar removed his helmet with a click and a hiss and–yeah, it probably wasn’t necessary anymore since they had air in this little box. “Is he okay?” he asked. 

“I think he will be,” Pearl said. “He didn’t spend very long unconscious. He should wake up in a few moments.”

“And what if he-” isn’t, Scar started, before stopping. “Yeah. He’s going to be okay.”

Grian felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“Are you okay?” Mumbo asked. And then, softly, “Thank you.”

“You’re safe now,” Grian whispered. He took in a shaky breath. “Can you . . . can you take some of it?” he asked. “The shelter. It’s hard to keep in place. You have half my powers now too; I’m not working at the capacity I could be. We have to share now.”

“Do you trust me?” Mumbo said. “What if I can’t hold it? What if I get us all killed?”

Grian chuckled and lifted his head to look Mumbo in the eye. Mumbo held his gaze. “It would be hard for you to do any worse than how we all almost got killed just then,” he said. He didn’t draw the distinction that only Impulse was in danger of death, because losing any member of Boatem might as well be the same as killing them all anyway. “Yeah. I do trust you.”

“How do I do it? You taught me, but this . . . this is different.”

Grian reached out and put his hand on Mumbo’s chest. The suits were thick, but he could still feel Mumbo’s heart hammering. He smiled, a little, at that. Proof of life. “Just . . . you should be able to feel my powers. We share it, yeah? It’s like a web, interconnected. Just add your own energy. I already made the blueprint, I just need some support.”

He felt Mumbo’s heart speed up, and then steady into a normal rhythm. Then it was like a weight was listed off him, but not quite–maybe it was a sense of being strengthened, or like someone taking your hand and helping you up off the ground. He’d never shared his powers with Mumbo before. He taught him, he demonstrated, Mumbo had used them, but they’d never actually been in sync with each other. 

Mumbo’s eyes glowed a little too as he activated his powers. Purple. Grian didn’t think the color really suited either of them. 

“Careful,” he murmured. “It’s harder than it looks to make this stupid little box. The void is . . . it wants to consume us. This bedrock doesn’t actually exist in our reality. I just created it out of nothing and it can just as easily vanish into nothing. And it’s really not supposed to be in the void. The void, er, knows that. So don’t drop it.”

“And if we do, then we die?”

“Then we die.”

“Well,” Mumbo said. “At least it’d be all five of us together, then.”

Across the tiny room, there was a sharp gasp. “He’s awake!” Pearl cried. 

Impulse!

Mumbo and Grian scrambled to the other side of the room and crouched next to Impulse, Pearl, and Scar. Impulse eyes fluttered open, and then he screwed them back shut. 

“Ugh,” he groaned. 

“How do you feel?” Pearl asked. 

“Like my head is split in two,” Impulse said. He opened his eyes again and coughed a few times. “Ouch, that hurts.”

“Nearly dying does that to you.”

Impulse sat up slowly, eyes shut again against the pain. “What happened?” he asked. 

“You nearly suffocated,” Grian said. “Your suit had a slow leak and was letting the void in.”

Impulse opened his eyes and stared at the opposite wall for a moment, and then looked back at Grian. All his movements were slow. He squinted as they made eye contact, Grian’s eyes still glowing. “And then somehow . . . I’m here?”

“Grian saved us,” Pearl said, and then turned to Grian and threw her arms around his neck, helmet clonking his as she pulled him in for the hug. “Thank you,” she whispered.  

When they pulled apart, Grian noticed Scar was staring at him and Mumbo. He was suddenly aware that neither Scar nor Impulse had ever seen him in any Watcher form. Immediately, that familiar anxiety stabbed him, but instead of bleeding out into a thick and all-consuming panic, it just stayed on the back of his neck, prickling him slightly. He normally might have cared more than this, but now Grian just felt like a wrung-out dish rag, drained and exhausted. If rain had existed in the void, he’d have been drenched from standing out in a downpour and dead on his feet. 

“Dude,” Scar blurted out. “That was SO COOL!”

Grian blinked. “Uh.”

“I had no idea you could do that! And now you’re all glowing? And you created bedrock? And you saved Impulse’s life? That was amazing!”

“. . . Thanks?”

“This was you?” Impulse said.

Grian nodded. 

Impulse rolled his eyes and shook his head, wincing as it exacerbated the pain. He punched Grian weekly in the shoulder. “Dude, I can’t believe you,” he said. 

“Sorry-” Grian started automatically, but Impulse cut him off. 

He continued: “I can’t believe you had the ability to manipulate bedrock this entire time and yet you always make me do it at the start of every season!”

Oh. 

“That’s just because he’s lazy,” Pearl said confidently. “Why break it yourself when you can make someone else, eh Griba?”

“And I did it for free this season since we were all in Boatem together!” Impulse said. “Wow, I can’t believe this. You’ve just been scamming for bedrock breaking services this whole time.”

“It’s not just me doing this bedrock right now,” Grian defended feebly. “Mumbo’s helping.”

“Er, I suppose I kind of am, aren’t I?” Mumbo said. 

“Yeah, what’s up with you two?” Scar asked. “I know you’re weird but you’re normally not this weird.”

“Hey-” Mumbo started. 

“He stole my soul!” Grian said. “He tricked me into signing away my soul, and then he ATE it, and now he’s like this. Because I’m like this.”

“You’re not going to ever let me live that down, will you?”

“Nope.”

“Um, I’m out of the loop,” Impulse said. “What is ‘this’?”

“And what is soul eating?” Scar asked, eyes sharp and glinting with something unknown. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to tell Scar it was possible to steal people’s souls. 

Grian took a deep breath. He was getting pretty good at explaining things now, wasn’t he? It was beginning to feel like a routine. Lay out what a Watcher is and what a Watcher does. Lay out why he’s one of them, and why he’s here instead of doing what they do. Perhaps lay out why Mumbo’s here too, and how that works. And avoid the question that inevitably gets asked, of why didn’t you say anything sooner?

“It’s-”

“‘This’ is something that is saving us right now,” Mumbo said. “And this is just Grian.”

“Yeah,” Grian said softly. “I’m just me.”

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