#eb picky

[nortsauce]

I think Tracy and Picky would be good friends.

They bond over everything that happened to their brothers and Tracy lets Picky stay over

[m2strikeout]

ch 1 p 45

Previous

Start at the beginning

[sunlitmcgee]

does anyone know if there's a way to make c!Tubbo's name into like. a Spanish translation like with c!Tommy w "tomas?"

[milliesfishes]

I’m down bad on my period rn, perchance, should you have time and the want to, might you write a little something… like I’m such a grump on my period and I snap at everything, maybe one where the girl had really bad back cramps or something and has to do all her chores and she snaps at Billy???? And she doesn’t even immediately apologise, like she tells him to piss off when he’s being affectionate and she’s trying to do her chores - and it’s really not personal, but idk.

Also It would suck to have to deal with that back then because I mean they barely had period products if at all.

Anyway don’t feel like you have to do exactly that, anything will do I’m not picky THANK YOUUU

I’m also on my period rn anon this was perfect timing <3 ౨ৎyou snap at billy while on your period౨ৎ fem reader x billy the kid

Wearied by the symptoms of what felt like your monthly punishment for lack of pregnancy, you were at your wit’s end.

Where everything had been sunny and bright before you began to bleed, the weeklong misery emerged from the crevices of your womanhood and dragged your vision of the world down to the depths of any good graces. You were dragging through your chores, the sun beating your already mangled body. The sharp flashes of pain in your lower back and belly made it impossible to focus for longer than a few minutes.

Upset at yourself for hardly completing a lengthy list of tasks that should have been done by now combined with the discomfort that had ailed you all day and hormones swimming around your mind, your mood was soured quicker than an unripe apple. Your body was heavy, feet filled with sand or concrete.

The pain was most prominent in your back. It twisted around your spine, ebbing and flowing in a way that would give you hope of it being over only for it to crash back in full force; ocean waves pounding against a rock. As you swept the porch you tried your hand at ignoring it as it pulsed near your hips. It was an untamable thing, demanding attention and heightening when it didn’t receive it.

The broom clattered against the wooden floor as the hand that had been holding it pressed a thumb and index finger right to your eyes. Frustratedly, you clenched your elbow with the fingers of the other, hand, utter discomfort piercing you like a cruel dagger.

This was the torment and burden of womanhood passed down generations, seeming to sharpen its teeth with every new girl. And now it was sinking its fangs into you, no regard for what you were trying to maintain.

In your agony you hardly noticed the approaching figure in the distance wearing a lopsided grin and a time-worn hat. Bending down painstakingly to retrieve the broom, you continued sweeping slowly, dragging the bristles across the porch and gathering the dust and dirt settled there.

The sharp feeling was gnawing at your spine when you felt a pair of arms slide around your figure, drawing you into a warm, solid figure like the sun. Billy leaned over and kissed your cheek, but you kept sweeping, twinged with annoyance that he was interrupting your chores. Another day you would have promptly abandoned them in favor of jumping into his arms. But your immense pain and anger with yourself for your lack of productivity got the best of you. "Billy."

"Everythin' alright, darlin'?" he asked, nudging your cheek with his nose. You said nothing, merely stepping out of his grasp to get another section.

His surprise was evident even in the silence. Beneath the layers of hurt and irritation you felt guilt begin to sprout. Billy hadn't done anything wrong, and it wasn't fair of you to take out what you were feeling on him. But pain is a finnicky thing, and it defied any logic you may have let take the lead on a good day.

"Whatsa matter, baby?" He leaned against the porch railing, frowning and folding his arms. "Didja-"

"Could you please stop?" you whipped your head around, eyes narrowed. "I haven't gotten any chores done and I-" You cut yourself off, lower lip trembling as you realized what you'd done. Eyes widening, you gripped the broom handle like a vice, taking a step back.

Immediately Billy caught on, and he stepped forward, taking the broom from your hand and setting it away. There wasn't any hurt in his eyes, not even under the surface. "Baby..."

Bringing your hands to your cheeks, you covered it, a slight gasp drawing from your lips. Guilt and anger with yourself overwhelmed you. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"

"Shh," Billy hushed, his big palm finding the crown of your head. He pulled you in by the waist to lean against his chest. "'S okay. 'S okay sweetheart. I ain't mad. Deep breaths, c'mon. Deep breaths."

You leaned your head against his chest, clenching his shirt between your fingers. He dropped his lips to the top of your head, burying his nose there. "My girl...what happened?"

Eyes welling up, you succumbed to his everlasting comfort, the slats of the fence you tried to hold up crumbling with his touch. Billy had such an effect on you. He disarmed you in every way, throwing flowers to your thorns and clearing all your smoke. "I-I- started...my monthly...and...it hurts."

Instantly he was gathering you up, taking you inside and setting you to rest on the couch on his lap. Billy tucked your head into his shoulder, pressing his lips to your head. "Where's it hurtin', sweet girl?"

"M-my back...and my..." you blubbered into him.

"Awh," he murmured, big hand rubbing circles into your lower back. "Belly hurtin' too?"

"Uh huh." Your words were muffled by his chest, and he nodded, thick fingers gently working over your back.

"My poor baby," Billy cooed, sliding one palm beneath your belly button. "Hurtin' so bad..."

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," you sniffled, lifting your head. His fingers kneaded the small of your back as he took in your teary eyes, burdened by the awful hormones coursing through your body.

"Aww, my angel." Billy eased you to lie down on the couch beside him, nestled into your spot in his arms. As always you fit there perfectly, like you were created together and then separated, scattered to the corners of the earth to try and find each other again. "It's okay. You're hurtin', ain't no fault 'f yours."

He rubbed your back in a tranquil way until your eyes drifted shut, comforted by the feel of his arms. Billy always knew how to bring you from the deep end, pulling you up for air.

When you rubbed your eyes, finally awakening, he was kneeling beside you, irises tender as he watched you wake. Thumb rubbing the side of your face, he whispered, "How're ya doin', angel baby?"

The previously knife-like pain had dulled, barely throbbing against the creases of your back and corners of your belly. Blinking sleepily, you shifted on your side comfortably. "Better." Then a spark of panic lit in you, and your elbows supported you as you lifted yourself up. "My chores-"

"Just finished 'em up," he assured you, hand holding your cheek. "You shouldn't have to lift a damn finger when you ain't feelin' good."

Smiling gratefully, you wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning into him. "Thank you."

"Ain't a problem, my love." Billy stroked your spine lightly, soothing any leftover aching. "I always know somethin's off when my sweet girl's upset."

There in the space of his arms, you found that the horrible beast of pain had quieted, silenced by your lover's embrace. Your body's incontrollable aspects answered to him, quieting when he said so you could be free from any suffering.

"Sweetest girl in the west," Billy mumbled into you, his voice nearly lilted. "I can handle a little snap cause my girl's such an angel anyways."

[brave-and-gentle]

EB I am curious!! I've always loved your hcs, so I wanted to ask: do you have any headcanons for jeanpiku's kids, esp in a modern setting? 🥹💜 I love seeing jean as a girl dad, but I'm always intrigued to hear other people's takes!

OOOO, ty for asking!! This was so fun because while I am constantly thinking about dilf Jean, I actually haven't thought as much about Jeanpiku as parents:

they have a ton of kids, it's a jeanpiku herd, i'm talking four kids MINIMUM. this is partially because they both come from smaller families, and were envious of the chaos of larger families. also jean thinks there's something very primal and so deeply attractive about pieck carrying their children, so once one's out, they can't help but think about the next. these two are so stupid horny for each other, they can't keep their pants on around each other for very long.

girl dad jean for life!!!! they have girl after girl for a while, and while they're both thrilled, they also kinda wanna keep going until maybe, just maybe, they have a son (yes they both know gender is fake and multiple times pieck's been like 'idk maybe we should just stop because one of our girls might not actually be a girl, who's to say??')

jean cries every single time another of their children is born, and pieck is like "boy wtf is wrong with you, were you just trying to squeeze their big heads out of you?? and it's your fault they have big heads!!"

regardless, they eventually do have a boy, poor kiddo, youngest boy with so many older sisters, who spoil him beyond belief so he ends up being just as weird and picky as his dad.

jean really is the best girl dad - he's learned how to brush and do all of their hair, to the point where once they're older, he does their hair for school dances. and for the younger ones, it's tea parties and dolls all day - he's *so there.*

pieck is the breadwinner, while jean is a stay at home dad for a while - he becomes the best cook on the block and everyone wants his scones at the school bake sale.

their son likes to stay home and help jean cook and clean while pieck plays HARD with their girls my god, she's that mom out on the playground with all of them covered in dirt and brings back cool things like bugs and frogs, and jean is mildly annoyed and eventually just fills up a little plastic pool with water in the backyard and insists pieck and the girls rinse off before stepping foot inside the house he just cleaned thank you very much (the bugs and frogs must stay outside or poor jean will have an aneurysm).

the moms at the playground are constantly hitting on jean, but he's so obsessed with pieck that he doesn't even realize it.

seeing the kirstein-finger family walk around together is so fucking funny because you have this hoard of small, dark haired women followed by two lanky looking dudes with sandy hair (though i imagine one of their daughters has lighter hair than the others).

when two of their children come out to their parents, jean and pieck look at each other, laugh, and say "lol yeah same."

mama kirstein is the BEST grandmother, she's loves having so many kiddos around and is constantly coming over with treats and handmade sweaters.

all in all, jean and pieck are fairly laid back parents (except if someone doesn't take their shoes off by the door, they have jean to fear). they trust their kids are doing their best, so while they're all pretty smart, there's nothing wrong with a B- grade. they even become the "cool weed house" when their oldest daughter is a teenager, but they insist on weed outside only.

hell seems like a nice place to be when jean finds out one of their daughters was broken up with, my god he's terrifying, ready to break someone's nose, so pieck has to calm him down and remind him that their daughter will be just fine and has to figure things out on her own.

[maybeelse]

Content notes: monsterfucking, alien biology, gore, snuff (with resurrection), 2nd person POV. ~1k words.

When she kills you, each time she kills you, she takes great care not to damage your brain. Those deliciously creamy cells, replete with fatty sheathes and bristling with slutty ligand-gated ion channels eagerly waiting to spread wide open at the slightest touch, the slightest hint, of Ms. Right Neurotransmitter (or at least Ms. Right Enough For Now), carelessly jumbled into the jostling, noisy, electrochemically active pattern that makes your psyche such a wonderful mess, cannot be allowed to deoxygenate for a moment.

Well, a minute. Two. Just long enough for her to savor the life draining out of your eyes, it's fine, there's no harm done as long as the temperature's low enough. That's what the bathtub full of ice is for, sweet thing; that's why she put in the effort to fill it, and to find a table that's just the right height to let your head dangle limply into it. By the time she's done the water will be such a gorgeous shade of red.

Five minutes isn't pushing it, not really. It's just—look, sometimes the shapes your blood makes as it drains from your body are just too beautiful, okay? She gets distracted from the way your guts feel wrapped around her cock, no matter how good it feels when fatty cells burst and smear across her thin scales or how deliciously your organs tear around her barbs. It's hard to focus enough to get off.

And fifteen minutes, well, it's not like you can complain if she takes a bit of time to relax on top of your cooling corpse. She's so sleepy and sensitive right after, with her knot swelling in the ruined sphincter she fucked into your abdomen (she likes your stomach these days, entering right in the middle of your womb tattoo; she's very, very careful not to let your body scar, there. Each time is just like the first, her sweet virgin, killed for the very first time) and the pulsing waves still ebbing from her body's muscles, pushing the last few gooey eggs out of her and into you.

Your body isn't capable of fertilizing them, of course; you will never be her brood's seedbed, and she loves you for that. Dating outside her species might be hard, tricky to explain at parties and awkward at family reunions even with no parents to ask about grandkids, but it's so much better than finding a nice fertile male to die with. Biology is an unforgiving mistress.

Her biology is. Not yours. Human biology is a cute little thing in a crop-top, fishnets, and not much else making eyes at her across the metaphorical bar, practically begging to be taken out back to fulfill whatever filthy little fantasy the universe has graced it with. Hell, why not do it on the bar? Human biology's not picky. It's never even heard of shame. And if the bouncer has thoughts, well, they're welcome to join in too.

Half an hour is pushing it, even with your head in an ice bath, but it's only then that your watch's buzzing and flashing gets her attention, as it finally starts to muster enough courage to call the coroner. She stirs on top of you, relaxed and spent, shreds of flesh dangling from her knot as she grinds it into you, her hips moving in the grip of her breeding instincts, half-confused about why she's still alive. A proper male, tentacles deeply rooted in meaty compost and belly swollen with sperm, oozing out of his holes at the merest hint of her scent, would have wrapped his scythes around her body as she thrust and spasmed and vivisected her as he felt her first egg spurt into him, eagerly consuming her to feed their young.

A proper male would have killed her.

You are, of course, only human.

She comes again as she reaches into your skull, delicately coaxing oxygen into your remaining blood cells, manually pumping that precious liquid through you, half-distracted, still rutting into the ruin of your torso. She is exquisitely sensitive; her brain wasn't made to persist past orgasm, her nerves developed with few provisions for petty concerns like calming down and rolling over to have a smoke.

So the first thing you feel, as she carefully brings you back to life, is the fact that her cock's head, its spikes slowly softening and retracting, is fully embedded in your heart's right ventricle. It pulses each time your heart's muscles clench around it, and above you, somewhere in the thick feathery frill that shields her head from predators and competitors, desperate, pained moans spill from her mouths.

It doesn't hurt. Not exactly. She adjust your nerves the first time she killed you, in that mad, panicked rush. Back then she didn't understand human biology, that saucy little minx with its come-hither eyes, not like she does now. Rushing to the nearest hospital, her arms wrapped around you and her knot still embedded in your half-corpse, screaming and then moaning as she moved inside you, wasn't her brightest idea, but it all worked out in the end, didn't it? You're still here, after all. For now.

She's able to enjoy herself so much more now that she understands how your body works. Half of her works to keep you alive; the other half wants nothing more than to fuck your corpse into a pile of shredded meat, to keep on going until she burns out her brain's pleasure center and her cock's just a numb, swollen hunk of meat, smeared with your corpse's rot and filth.

Have you ever felt more wanted, sweet little thing?

[m1d-45]

-Pari Anon

What if Zhongli ended up finding Creator! Pari! Reader?

They were hovering close to where Xiao was fighting when Zhongli ran into them. He, sensing they were some sort of threat, took them with him.

When they don’t return to Xiao after his fight, he gets worried and starts looking for them. They’re typically nearby, out of danger.

Did they get eaten? Are they okay? Poor Xiao is panicking, calling for his little friend.

He finds them with Zhongli. Locked in a cage made of Geo.

Do you think he can convince Zhongli that his little friend isn’t a threat?

(please note that i know nothing about pari lore or behavior-)

i imagine xiao is rather picky about you accompanying him on patrols, always making sure you’re far away from the battle. you’re not to be where monsters can see, where you can get hurt, always at or near where he leaves you.

and you, to your credit, follow this rule fairly well! you watch from afar, typically either playing with butterflies or looking at the flowers around where he left you. you know how he worries, and have been fretted over by him many times, and you’re not keen on stressing him out further.

zhongli had been sensing disturbances in liyue, how the earth is rearranging, leylines shifting and ebbing, as if a restless child finally being out to rest. however, a change in the leylines is never anything safe, not when they’d been utilized by the abyss before. he’d trusted the adepti with it at first, knowing xiao would never allow such a danger to roam liyue unchecked, but it had been too long. he excused himself from the funeral parlor, approaching the area of disturbance himself.

it was… mundane. or, more accurately, par for the course. he heard the sounds of battle, the burning smell of ozone signaling the use of xiao’s vision, but there was no leyline blossom he could see or sense. the hilichurls weren’t stained with curse nor karma, and he decided to ask xiao after he was done. he was confident in his abilities to fight off the enemies, and he might as well get a head start on the search.

nothing. a few chitters from a bird or perhaps squirrel, but nothing disturbed. no marks to the earth, no upturned stones or deep pits, no abnormal elemental flow. and yet, he was certain this was where the cause of the disruptance was from…

he crossed his arms, frowning at his surroundings. it wasn’t xiao, it wasn’t the monsters.. perhaps some infected wildlife?

the birds chirped again. this time, he followed.

a few birds had gathered beneath a tree, surrounding a… pari? he wasn’t aware they even lived in liyue, let alone..

the pari seemed to be playing with the birds. batting a small stone between it and the birds. zhongli approached, uncaring of how the birds flapped away, focused on the twist of the pari looking up at him.

he crouched. “and what are you doing here, hm?”

the park backed away from his hand when he slowly reached out, and his eyes caught on how the grass in front of them seemed to grow quicker, weaving into a sort of shield.

everything clicked at once.

“so you’re the one doing this.”

his hand shot out, folding in the pari’s wings, grip tight. it squirmed and chirped, as if crying for help, but he paid it no mind. his free hand waved, a cage of geo sprouting from the ground, and he locked it inside with little hesitation. he’d have to alert xiao, so he knew why the leylines were acting up-

“rex lapis? what are you doing?”

that was convenient.

zhongli grabbed the top of the cage, turning as he stood. xiao still had his polearm in hand, eyes wide. he seemed frantic… perhaps he did know that this pari was the source of elemental dissonance?

“ah, xiao. i was simply collecting this strange pari-“ he waved at the cage, and the pari flapped its wings almost angrily “-as i believe it is the cause for the disruption of liyue’s balance. i assure you that i am more than equipped to handle this myself.”

“no, that’s not- that-..” xiao seemed to be lost for words, face twisting the longer he looked at the pari. “they’re not a threat.”

he was ready to protest, when he noticed the way the pari was acting. pressed against the side of the cage not to flee, but that was closest to xiao? how odd, he didn’t know that pari were that social-…

“have you been cursed, xiao?”

[honeysmokedham]

TIMING: October - May LOCATION: Various PARTIES: Cass & Nora SUMMARY: a look at small moments of friendship throughout the year WARNINGS: none!

OCTOBER, 2023. 

Everything hurt. It was an all-over kind of pain, the sort of thing that ebbed with each beat of her heart. Cass could still feel Rhett’s hand gripping her throat, could still feel the blade entering her shoulder and spraying blood with its untimely exit. She was afraid to leave Alex’s bedroom, afraid to even look out the window for too long as if the monster who looked like a man might climb through it. She wished Alex had killed him; she hated herself for wishing it.

There was a knock on the door. Cass glanced up, expecting Alex or Andy or Kaden, but instead of a shock of red hair or a quiet grumble of French, she saw another familiar face. She smiled a little, something that had been tight in her chest loosening. “Nora,” she greeted with a breathless sigh. “Hey. I, um… I think I’m gonna have a really cool scar.” She tried not to let her voice break as she said it.

—

“Hey.” It was weird to visit Cass someplace that wasn’t the cave. The cave was Cass’s home, intertwined in a way that Nora was curious about. Her friend had a connection to the rocks, making it the perfect place. This is why the fact that she was hiding in a cabin in the middle of the woods, away from the rocky outcropping, interesting. Whatever had happened had to have been bad. “Real heroes have scars.” Nora slid the door shut behind her. “It’s going to look sick.” Cass always looked sick, That was something Nora could say with certainty, having only seen her friend in her unglamoured form. Well, her glamour was there, a shadow superimposed over her, but the real Cass shone so much brighter. 

Nora took a seat, near enough to be conversational, far enough to maintain her ever aloof cool girl persona. “I think superhero artists are lazy. They don’t want to remember where scars should be. But they are always fighting and doing brave shit, and it hurts and leaves scars. You’ll just be better than all of them, I guess.”

—

Nora made her feel warm, because Nora always made her feel warm. She said the scar would look sick, and Cass laughed even though her chest ached, even though there was a pressure sitting behind her lungs that she couldn’t shake. Could Nora taste her fear now? It was all over her, crawling across every inch of her rocky, unglamoured skin. She usually hated feeling afraid, but maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing here. After all, if Nora was well fed, if she was getting something from this encounter, wasn’t it more likely that she’d stay?

Cass smiled, thin and uncertain but genuine. “Do you really think so?” The idea that someone could think she was a hero ��� that someone could think she was better than a hero, even — made her feel a little less alone. “Do you want to watch something? Alex hooked me up with, like, a ton of movies.”

—

“I know so.” Nora leaned forward, placing a hand on Cass’s arm. The hand Thea had placed on her arm in the car ride. The hand she learned meant comfort. She wasn’t good at comforting. But she wanted to be, for her friends. Cass had gone through something traumatic. She was drenched in fear. While Nora couldn’t understand living in fear, she knew it wasn’t the Cass she was used to. 

“Alex has a nice place,” Nora commented because the polite thing to do when visiting someone’s place was to compliment it. It was more a forgotten habit of a life long ago, than a real compliment. She didn’t notice she said it. “I’d love to watch something.” Nora leaned back in her chair. “What’s on the menu, your choice. I’m not picky.” 

—

Nora’s words and her touch worked together to fill Cass with a warmth she’d been lacking ever since that cold iron struck her shoulder. Knowing that her friend had this kind of confidence in her, that Nora still thought she was a hero even if Cass no longer felt like one… It was good. It made her feel good. 

“I like it,” she agreed, glancing around the cabin. She was more or less indifferent to the building itself — walls were just walls, after all — but the love that filled it made her feel as though she could walk on air. Alex and Andy and Kaden had built a family here, and they were willing to let Cass pretend she was a part of it, even if only for a little while. That meant a lot to her.

Smiling, she handed Nora the remote. “There’s Disney movies, there’s superhero movies, there’s musicals, there’s… Oh! Let’s watch Morbius. We can talk about how bad it is. The Matt Smith dance scene will really blow your mind, I think…”

The movie was selected, the opening flashback scene danced across the screen, and laughter and conversation carried on over the dialogue. Cass spouted fun facts from the comics and laughed at the way the studio had released the movie into theaters twice only to see it bomb just as many times. She didn’t feel whole, per say, but she felt less broken than she had before. It was a little like magic.

NOVEMBER, 2023

“My new art gallery is opening soon.” Nora had announced to the group chat. This was a one-day-only pop-up experience that could only be experienced at 5:00 am, sunrise. Nora had worked hard all night to make the experience happen. Only Cass was up to answer the text. The ride-or-die didn’t ask many questions, showing up at the designated viewing spot 20 minutes before show time.

“You need this,” Nora handed over a balaclava to Cass. She waited for her friend to put it on. Then she motioned to follow her. It was a ten-minute walk from the meeting place. Nora had already picked the lock and set up a seating area on the roof across the street from the target. WRPD. The rooftop gave a perfect view of their cars, all parked “safely” waiting for shift change. All now had a fresh coating of pig-related horror art on it. Nora took a seat, handing a pair of pilfered binoculars over to Cass. “They should notice in about seven minutes.”

—

Nora had an art gallery opening, and Cass wouldn’t miss it for the world. She was up early — or late, she guessed, since she had been vibrating with too much anxious energy to sleep. She was still recovering from her encounter with the warden outside her cave, though most of that recovery seemed to be the ‘inside your head’ kind of recovery now. Her wounds were healing as well as could be expected — cold iron made it more complicated, apparently — but her psyche was a more complex beast. 

Nora’s art gallery would move things along, though.

Cass grinned at her friend as she arrived, taking the balaclava without question and pulling it over her head. She followed along behind Nora, bouncing and talking and feeling less heavy than she had in weeks. Nora was good at that, she thought. She asked no questions as she followed her friend up to the roof, laughing when she finally caught sight of what the ‘show’ would entail. “Oh, this is so my favorite art show,” she exclaimed. Reaching into her pocket, she retrieved a small bag of gummy worms and offered it out. “I wasn’t sure if there would be snacks provided, so I brought some. I hope that’s okay.”

—

The fun thing about Cass was she didn’t question the breaking and entering bit. Van and Thea got nervous about these kinds of things. They did them, because Nora liked to do them, but they were always coated in a layer of fear and anxiety while they were doing it. Nora tried to be polite and not smell when her friends were scared, but it was hard. Especially when it was a snack, just for her. Cass was, as they say, down to clown. No fear. Brave. The real-life hero, who just happened to be okay with vandalism when it came to cops. That was truly the best of both worlds. Side note, Hannah Montanna would have been a better show if she spray-painted some cop cars. 

“Good planning. I didn’t think about snacks.” Nora’s bag was on the roof, but it was full of spray paint. All the cans had been stolen over the course of a few months. This was a big job, and she had no money. She’d done the planning, the watching, the collecting, and now her big moment was happening. A car turned down the road and parked on the other side of the police station, where the civilians parked. People were coming to work. She could see cars rolling in for shift change. It didn’t take long. Floodlights were turned on and angry voices could be heard all the way across the street. 

“HOW THE FUCK DIDN’T YOU NOTICE SOMEONE SPRAY PAINTING OUR CARS NED?” That was the clearest thing Nora heard from her position across the way. She knew how Ned didn’t notice. Ned was busy watching an illusion. 

Nora turned to Cass, almost smiling. “I think they like it.”

—

Cass passed the gummy worms over, pleased that her instinct to bring snacks along was the correct move to make. She pulled out another bag — pop rocks, this time, because when she’d imagined Nora’s art show part of her had imagined it in a gallery where they would be expected to be quiet and had found the idea of opening her mouth wide enough for the sound of the pop rocks popping to be heard the type of thing Nora would probably laugh at. She popped a few into her mouth, parting her lips to provide a quiet soundtrack to the arrival of people to the police station.

It didn’t take long for Nora’s real art show to begin. The painted cars were wonderful, of course, but Cass knew that the reactions were what they were really here for. She laughed as people began screaming, putting a hand over her mouth to keep the sound from carrying too far. Ned was being chewed out, someone was yelling wordlessly about the choice of words scrawled onto their vehicle, someone else was actually crying. It was a good show, Cass thought.

Turning to Nora, she flashed her friend a wicked grin. “I like it, too,” she said. “Next time, we should make the show together. I can melt their tires to the pavement!”

—

Cass got her art. That was nice. This was never about the spray paint across the cars. This was a reminder to the WRPD that they were bad at their jobs, chose the wrong career, and that cops didn’t matter. It was a fuck you in the face of the establishment. She’d gone onto their home turf and ruined their property, something that they were fond of doing, and now they were facing the fallout among themselves. Nora snacked happily as the yelling got louder, sirens turned on and other pigs raced back to the headquarters. 

“Next time for sure.” Nora agreed. “The next art show will be better than ever” They’d probably up their security, making it more satisfying when they came in and saw that security melted along with their tires in the pavement. It was a good plan. Nora was excited to arrange the next art show. 

In the following days, new articles were written about the art. Police statements were made. Posters were put up. Money was offered for the culprits. When they looked at the building across the street’s security footage they found nothing, because they only looked at the camera pointing towards the station. They never noticed the two balaclava-clad girls sneaking in the back and chilling on the roof. It was the kind of comedy that kept writing itself. 

DECEMBER, 2023

It was winter, and Cass felt okay. She was in a good place, even if her nightmares still contained too many guest appearances from Rhett and his blade. She’d been clinging to distractions more often than not, and this was no different even if she would pretend it was. It was winter, and in winter, people celebrated. People exchanged gifts, people spelled out their love in wrapping paper and bows. Cass didn’t have a lot of money, but that didn’t matter. She didn’t need it for the kind of shopping she had planned.

She thought Nora might enjoy this kind of thing, so she’d invited her along. “I already got your present,” she announced when the other girl drew near, “so you’re not getting any spoilers for that. But I thought you might want to help me shop for other people! And by shop, I mean… look for rocks. Because that’s the best gift, you know? They all have different meanings, and you can really personalize them. So… are you in, or are you in?” 

—

Winter left Nora feeling sluggish. She could spend all her time rotting in her cot if given the chance. That wasn’t the kind of person Nora was. She made the effort to go outside, get a walk in, and be alive during the winter. That also included saying yes to every activity her friends put before her. Nora blinked once, twice, a third time as Cass announced what they were going to do. Rock gathering for Christmas gifts. Alright, that was the most Cass activity she could think of. “Yeah, I’m in.”

The thing about rocks was they are everywhere. Nora only had a special interest in them when she was deep in the mines. Thank god that was done. However, now she was floundering trying to help Cass pick the perfect rock gifts. Nora picked up a rock, it looked like a good rock. It was rock-shaped and had rock coloring. She held it out to Cass. “Thoughts?” 

—

Nora was in, and Cass’s grin was so bright that it must have looked a little like a volcanic eruption, lava glowing as it shot towards the sky. She clapped her hands together, excitement thrumming through her. There were few people she thought would understand this sort of activity the way Nora would. Ariadne or Alex or Wynne would try to, but Nora would get it in a way few others could. There were a lot of things like that, a lot of parts of herself that she felt Nora understood better than most. It all went back to that apartment in New York, to a week spent pretending they were something they weren’t and becoming friends in the process.

She looked over as Nora picked up a rock, shuffling closer for a better look. “Basalt!” She announced excitedly. “It’s an aphanitic igneous extrusive rock. That means it’s volcanic!” Like me, she didn’t say, but she knew Nora would know it, anyway. That was another thing about Nora — she’d known Cass’s true form for as long as she’d known Cass, and she’d never once been afraid. There was something undeniably thrilling about that. “They’re supposed to inspire courage.” Her expression softened a little. “It’s a good one for you to find.” Because Nora was one of the bravest people she had ever met.

—

“Like you,” Nora added as Cass said the rock was volcanic. “That’s sick.” Nora slid the rock into her pocket. It would be nice to have a Cass rock. The rock would go into the small collection of things that reminded her of her friends, it included little gifts, a few trinkets, and the selfie wall she had, where pictures of her friends were haphazardly tapped next to her cot. Cass knew a lot of things cool things. That was one of the many things that made her interesting and cool. Sure, she was part rock herself, but Nora was part fear and she couldn’t name every single fear and why people had them. In fact, why people were scared was something that slipped past her understanding a lot. Just don’t be scared, it was easy. 

They walked around, Nora in a comfortable silence while Cass talked. Sometimes Nora would offer a word, but mostly Cass was happy for Nora to just be there. Nora liked that. She liked existing in the same space as her friend, without the expectation to be someone she wasn’t. “Oh.” Nora paused their walk, and the conversation, bending over to pick up a rock. “It looks like a van, not the person.” She held out the specimen to Cass. “Might be a good gift for her.”

—

A quiet thrill went through her as Nora spoke the very words that had hung in the back of Cass’s mind when she’d pointed out the volcanic nature of the stone. It felt like being understood, having Nora echo something she’d only thought. There was something just as exciting about seeing Nora slip the rock into her pocket — like if she could want that stone, she could want Cass, too. Cass’s face hurt from how brightly she grinned at the sight, her heart feeling light. Nora thought rocks were cool, and Cass thought Nora was cool. It was nice, having something like that between them.

She walked along with her friend, pointing out the best stones and minerals and picking up a few with announcements about what they meant and who they would go to. Onyx for Lil, moonstone for Wynne. When Nora bent over to pick something up, Cass craned her head to see it. It was a simple stone — a common chunk of graywacke. But Nora was right that it looked like a Van, and the sight made Cass grin all over again. “I think that’s perfect,” she agreed. “She’ll love it.”

JANUARY, 2024

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” Nora had brought the projector so they could watch the ball drop, because her fathers always threw parties so people could watch the ball drop. Cass had offered to host, which was good because some people thought Nora’s crypt smelled and didn’t have good ventilation. Which was a weird take, but like, okay. It was a small affair, the remaining for who’d been there that night. It seemed like forever ago. The four of them were friends now. Close and confidants. It was nice they had this.

 Van and Thea were talking, so Nora turned to Cass.”To many more years.” She said to her friend. Nora raised a glass of stolen champagne to toast Cass. “We could make this a tradition. It’d make a better tradition than killing a hunter in a supermarket every year.”

—

She’d never done anything like this. A New Year’s Eve party with friends, all gathered in her space to watch the ball drop… There was something so exciting about the entire thing. Cass was so full of energy despite the late hour, ecstatic to have her cave full of people she loved. The crowd had thinned now, down to just Cass, Nora, Van, and Thea. Months ago, it would have been hard to be in this company without thinking of that supermarket where they’d all come together for the first time, of Debbie’s blood staining their hands and their bodies aching with the weight of it. Now, though…

It was terrible, but in moments like this, Cass couldn’t help but think that it wasn��t all bad, what had happened that night. Debbie died, and that was terrible, but… Hadn’t good come of it? They’d made a promise to one another, and it warmed Cass’s chest like a physical thing. She smiled at Nora, clinking their glasses together. “This would be a pretty good tradition,” she agreed. “Definitely better than a murder a year. That would get so messy.” She laughed in a way she wouldn’t have been able to with less champagne coursing through her. Her eyes softened a little, and she bumped her shoulder against Nora’s. “I’m really glad I have you guys, you know.”

—

“New year, new me!” Thea’s voice echoed in the cavern with that statement, Nora turned to look at her two friends talking. A warmth spread inside of her. A warmth that she’d recently associated with friendship and fun. Her glass clinked against Cass’s, and she turned her full attention back to her favorite fae. It was good to see Cass happy. That was a part of friendship that Nora was still coming to understand. Friendship was equal parts enjoying company, doing things together, and doing acts because you knew they would make your friends happy. There was no fear in this cave tonight, and Nora was totally okay with it. 

“Yeah, and it’d be better if hunters just… stopped hunting.” Kind of a lame statement, but it always sat in the back of her mind. Debbie could have been one of them. She could have filled out the ranks of this weird collection of young adults who stood in that cave. She could have brought breakfast food with her as they watched the ball drop. “I’m glad too.” Nora agreed with Cass. “Life before this was,” Nora paused trying to find the right sentimental words. They eluded her. She shrugged instead, leaving it up for interpretation, but she knew Cass would know what she meant. “We’ll make this a tradition,” Nora affirmed. “We’ll always bring in the New Year together.” 

—

Thea’s voice echoed through the cave, which felt fuller than it had in a long time. Cass felt alive with the feeling, the magma in her chest dancing to the tune sung out by her heart. She wanted to pull all of her friends into something tight, wanted to hold them all as close as she could manage, wanted to keep them here beside her forever. She wanted for nothing to ever change, mostly. It was an impossible thing to want, a silly one. She knew that. But she wanted it all the same.

“That would be great,” she agreed, smile faltering a little. How many times had hunters nearly ruined everything for their group? There had been Debbie, right in the very beginning of it all, then the one who hurt Alex, then Rhett (more than once)... Wouldn’t it be nice if they’d just give it up? Cass and her friends weren’t hurting anyone. She wished the hunters could see that. (She wished other things, too, but those weren’t ones she would ever say aloud.) She swallowed as Nora tried to find a word to describe life before this, nodding when she found herself unable to do so. “I know what you mean.” Because she did. Life before that supermarket had felt so dull and heavy and boring most of the time. It was better now. Maybe they hadn’t gotten there in the best way, but she liked where they’d ended up. “New Year tradition,” she agreed with a grin. “I really like the sound of that. Maybe next year, we can roast marshmallows or something!”

—

“Marshmallows next year.” Thea and Van came back over, drinks in their hands. The group of them toasted the New Years again. They went around with resolutions. They made jokes about the year. They were a group of four friends in a cave, and there was nothing weird about it. They sang, they cheered, they danced, they drank. Nora gave a silent toast to Debbie, the ghost that haunted them in memory and not action. It was the best New Years party of her life. She couldn’t wait for the next one. 

FEBRUARY, 2024

Alex had left. Alex had left, and she’d been sure to tell Cass that it wasn’t because of her, but Cass wasn’t sure how much it mattered. The why always weighed so much less than the leaving, after all. People could give a thousand reasons for their departure, could cite things like job opportunities like Alex or fear like Metzli, but none of that mattered half as much as the fact that Cass wasn’t enough of a reason to stay. All she wanted — all she’d ever wanted — was for her to outweigh the rest of it. She wanted to matter more than some opportunity or some fear, wanted to be heavy enough to make the people she loved stay in place, and she wasn’t. She never had been.

So, yeah. She was wallowing a little. Sue her, right? She got… dumped wasn’t the right word for it, but she didn’t really have another one, either. She loved someone and lost them, and that hurt. She hadn’t been ready for it to be over, and that hurt, too. She was allowed to wallow, after all that.

There were footsteps at the mouth of the cave, and she sighed. “I’m trying to be dramatic,” she announced, pretending that her voice was light and joking instead of heavy and sad. “Please just let me be dramatic.”

—

“I’m being dramatic too,” Nora answered. Alex was gone, and Cass wasn’t going to take it well. Cass had a revolving door life. A series of people coming and going. Nora included. She was trying to be better. The cave echoed with the sound of her heavy boots as she walked in. “Wow! Is this the fortress of solitude, Superman?” Nora was trying to do her best to put some emotion in her voice. She was trying to be a comedic character in a comic for her friend, because her friend was sad, and Nora wasn’t sure how to help sad friends. But she would try. That was the important bit. “Not very solitude now that I’m here, jinkies” Okay, so maybe she still didn’t get the comic thing after all this time, but all her friends loved them so she tried. Half the time they sat reading together, they’d pass comics among each other while Nora worked on one of her novels. Classical literature was the only joy private school ever brought into her life.

Nora lowered herself next to Cass, sitting on the floor, wallowing while pretending not to be. She knew Cass now. She knew the story of a girl abandoned. She knew the girl who just wanted to be included and thought of. Nora was thinking of her now. She hoped that would help. Just a bit. She placed a hand on Cass’s arm. “I think you’re allowed to be dramatic, or more than dramatic, if you want to be.” Nora’s voice was back to her regular monotone, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t soft. “I think it’s okay to be hurt about this.” Cass didn’t need her permission. No one needed Nora’s permission. But words were hard, and maybe, just maybe, they would help. 

—

Despite her foul mood and the heaviness of the air in the cave, Cass couldn’t help but snort at Nora’s statement as she entered. “It’s really more of a Batcave situation,” she said forlornly. She’d had breakups before, but none as serious as this one. When you lived your teenage years the way Cass had, sleeping in warehouses and clinging to whoever stayed long enough to leave an impression, breakups weren’t entirely surprising. They were the expected end result of any romantic entanglement, and all parties involved were aware of that. But Alex? Alex was supposed to be a permanent fixture of Cass’s life. They were supposed to know each other forever, or as close to forever as the universe would grant them. Cass had never anticipated Alex leaving after only a few short months together.

Of course, she’d also never anticipated Nora coming to check up on her after it happened, so… maybe things weren’t all bad.

Cass sniffled a little, shifting over to make room for Nora to lay beside her on the floor. “I really thought she’d stay,” she admitted quietly. “I really thought I was…” Worth staying for. Whose fault was it that she wasn’t? She didn’t know if Alex could really be blamed for this, if she could resent her for walking away for a better opportunity or if she was just being selfish. Was it childish, this want that lived in her chest? Was it naive and stupid to wish that someone would see you for who you were and love you anyway? She leaned against Nora a little, burying her face in her friend’s shoulder, and that was selfish, too. Nora didn’t like being touched, and Cass didn’t like being alone. She wondered if that made them unlikely friends.

—

“My bad.” Nora once more put on her exaggerated superhero voice, “holy sulking, Batman.” Being a fan of Tim Burton’s 1999 masterpiece, Batman, was the only reason she was aware that Robin came with a holy joke built in. Nora leaned to the side, brushing her shoulder against Cass’s, that comforting movement of a shoulder bump that she now associated with being there for someone. “Gotham is lost without you.” She was exhausting her superhero references, but for Cass she was willing to dig deep to find whatever words might be considered comforting.

Nora kicked her legs out in front of her. Her laces were untied, there was a hole in the top where she could see her sock, also with a hole in it, the leather was worn and she’d have to steal some new ones soon. It was hard letting go of loved things though, wasn’t it? “I thought she’d stay too.” Nora had let the silence sit between Cass’s words and the time she finally answered. She had to consider what she would say. She wanted it to matter because Cass did. Nora hadn’t been close to Alex. Her knowledge of the red head was made up of the facts that she was a werewolf, and she was dating Cass. “I think life is hard to navigate. I think, sometimes, no matter how much you want to stay for something, you still have to go.” Hadn’t Nora wanted to stay with Cass before? But the crowd of people recognizing her had ran her out, and she had been too unwilling to risk going back. “She chose wrong.” Nora added, aware that despite the desperate pains she took to choose her words, they still weren’t good enough.

—

Nora was trying. Nora was trying, and that meant a lot even if Cass still ached with the absence of someone she’d really thought would stick around. People leaving was no new thing, of course. People had been leaving Cass since the day she was born, since her mother left her on someone else’s doorstep and disappeared without a trace. But this… someone sticking around after the fact, trying to help her pick up the pieces? This was new. It didn’t erase the pain of Alex’s departure, but Cass thought she liked it, anyway.

Was Nora right, she wondered? Had Alex wanted to stay, even if she’d wanted to leave just a little bit more? Cass wasn’t sure she’d ever know for certain. And even if she did, she wasn’t sure how much it would matter. How much did it mean that someone wanted to stay if wanting was all it was? How much weight could it carry if they still walked away in spite of it? Cass swallowed, feeling small and fragile in a way she hadn’t in a long time. She chose wrong, Nora said, but what did it mean when everyone chose the same? Could everyone be wrong? Wasn’t it more likely that the problem lay with the lowest common denominator? She saw other people stay for one another, saw it in Metzli and Leila or Ariadne and Wynne, but no one ever stuck around for Cass. She shrugged her shoulders, not looking at Nora even if she wasn’t deliberately looking away. “It was nice of you to come,” she said instead of arguing. “I’m glad you did.”

MARCH, 2024

People had died. Rocks had eaten them. A ghost had killed them. She’d burned a house down, but that hadn’t been enough. Nora was never enough to save people. Regan was going to leave. Everyone was telling her to give up on Regan, but Nora didn’t want to. Regan had to see that she was important. That she could pick herself. Nora paced in Cass’s cave, thoughts racing around her head. What was she going to do? She had to do something. Superhero comics were everywhere. One called Hawkeye caught her eye. “Do you mind if I read this?” 

Nora threw herself down next to Cass as she devoured the issues. There was this girl, Kate, and this guy, Clint, and Clint was Kate’s mentor who was very depressed while being talented, and while Kate was super cool and probably more talented than Clint. This sounded familiar. Kate got mad at Clint, stole his dog, and went to L.A. to start a P.I. agency. In this metaphor, Nora was Kate. She could go to L.A., if L.A. was Ireland, and start a P.I. agency if the agency was to save Regan’s life. “Hey Cass, what did you think of this comic? It was cool, right? Would you do what Kate did?” A plan was starting to form. 

—

Nora was upset about something, and Cass was afraid to ask for details. She watched as her friend paced through her cave, saw the agitation bustling through her like ants under her skin, and she shifted where she sat with a quiet uncertainty. She watched Nora’s eyes land on a comic — Hawkeye Annual, to be exact, the issue where Kate ditched Clint’s sad ass to move to L.A. and become a detective. It was a good issue, and Cass nodded eagerly at Nora’s request. 

She stayed quiet as Nora read, busying herself with her own comic. This week, she was rereading a Black Bat title she’d really enjoyed. It felt nice to sit with Nora and read, even if it brought with it a silence Cass might have normally found herself more inclined to break than she was now. When Nora finally spoke up, though, there was some relief in the quiet being interrupted. “It’s one of my favorites,” she replied with a grin. “I don’t know. I guess�� if I had to, right? She had good reason for doing what she did. It makes sense.”

—

Okay, so it wasn’t exactly the same. Because Nora wouldn’t stay in L.A. She wouldn’t open a detective agency, and she couldn’t bring her dog. But she would go to Ireland, she would convince Regan to return to Wicked’s Rest, she would be the hero of her own issue because she was brave enough to do something about it. But how could she get to Ireland without a passport? Because a passport required identification. Nora didn’t have identification. That was in L.A. with her fathers, and probably it would read that she was presumed dead soon.

“Yeah. It does make sense.” Nora was grateful for the emotionless mask that fit over her like a glove. It hid the excitement building inside her as the plan fell into place. It kept the flutter in her heart as she realized she was going to Ireland, to a minimum. “Hey, do any of these comic books ever have characters sneaking to other countries? Like what if Kate wanted to go to Europe and didn’t have a driver's license. What do you think they would do?” Nora was so casual about asking this, because she was the cool girl. Cool girl’s didn’t get excited about anything. She was calm, cool, monotone, collected. “It’d be interesting to see if someone could sneak their way onto a plane, somehow, don’t you think?”

—

It was exciting to talk about comics with someone who would listen. A lot of the time, Cass knew that people tuned her out. She rambled on for too long, she said too much. She was too much, most of the time. She was a bundle of excitement that could be a little hard to handle, and most people didn’t really try. They saw what she had to offer and they walked away from it without thought, without sparing her even the smallest of glances. Nora was different. Nora was here, was in her cave, was asking her what she thought for no reason beyond the fact that she wanted to hear the answer. Cass hummed, looking down at her comics.

“They kind of gloss over that kind of thing,” she admitted. “Like, they’ve all got quinjets and teleporters, so they’re not super interested in dealing with airports and stuff. It’s probably not really that hard, though. I mean, I don’t know about planes, but when I came over to the mainland from Hawai’i, I just rode in the bottom of a boat with the luggage.” She didn’t add that she hadn’t wanted to, didn’t say that it was someone else who put her on that boat or that she’d been sick the entire time. That wasn’t a fun story, and didn’t Nora want something fun? Didn’t everyone? 

—

It was disappointing to hear that comics didn’t deal with real logistics. Nora needed real help, but Cass had never failed her before, and wasn’t about to start now. “Traveled with the luggage?” Nora repeated, an idea shaping in her mind, as clearly as paintings did before she placed them on canvas. “You’re brilliant, Cass.” The excitement was bubbling, it was breaching containment, it was creating waves. “Luggage.” Nora repeated the word as if it was a myth she’d never heard of before. She’d have to work fast. She’d have to figure out where Regan kept her luggage, if she could fit, when she was packing, when she was going. Nora was about to spend a lot of nights outside Regan’s cabin. 

“I’ve got to run, Cass, but you’ve inspired me. Thank you.” She knew she wasn’t supposed to thank fae, she’d be warned, but it was Cass, and Cass would never abuse a thank you. Cass was her friend, kind, and always nice. “I’ll see you soon, bye!”  Nora practically flew out of the cave, a bat out of hell. There was so much prep work she’d need to do, and she couldn’t tell anyone. They’d try to stop her, but she was a force of nature. 

APRIL, 2024

She saw Nora’s post with a quiet jolt, bile settling on her tongue. Nora was in Ireland. Nora left. Cass tried not to compare it to the feeling of waking up alone in that apartment they’d made their temporary home back in New York, but it seemed impossible not to think of it. Nora left; Nora was always leaving. Everyone else would follow suit eventually, wouldn’t they? Her hand tightened on the phone.

“Cassidy,” Makaio’s voice rumbled through the cave, quiet concern clinging to his words. “What’s wrong?”

He was still such a new fixture in the cave that, for a moment, she’d forgotten he was there at all. She was hyperaware of his presence now, let it warm her with a quiet certainty. Bringing a finger up, she pressed the button to lock the phone and offered him a small smile. “Nothing,” she said. “Everything’s okay now.” 

It felt true. MAY, 2024

Nora stood outside of Cass’s cave. “Cass?” She called into the cave. It smelled like Cass, here at the cave. Nora didn’t like to be underground anymore. It reminded her of brainwashed days. But Cass’s cave was just as beautiful as her friend. In the old days, old Nora who had always been so sure of herself, would walk right in. Cass would be happy to see her. This was before she left for Ireland. She didn’t consider Cass before she left, she just left. That was their history, right? She should have told Cass where she was going. So Nora stood at the mouth of the cave, unsure if she could -should- go in. “I’m back from Ireland.” 

The word Ireland hurt as much as the place itself. “Cass I wasn’t trying to leave you when I went, I was trying to be a hero.” Cass had taught Nora about superheroes. She’d never been interested in that slice of pop culture before sitting on the cave floor looking at pieces of art that inspired her more than she thought they would. They were just like Cass, in that regard. Always inspiring. “Cass, I can smell you.” But there was someone else in there, mixing with her smell. “I mean I can smell someone there too, you’re busy. I’ll just come back later. I’ll see you around.” And so Nora left. Again. As always. 

—

She was stiff and she was aching and she could still smell the hunter’s skin burning against hers. He was still alive somewhere. She wondered if that would come back to bite her, or if he would go after Ariadne again. He was still alive somewhere. She’d failed to kill him, and she’d failed to be the person Ariadne and her other friends wanted her to be, and she was always going to be alone because of it. She had Makaio, but what else did she have? She closed her eyes, hating the way it sounded. She restructured the sentence in her mind, a forced thing. She had Makaio, but what else did she need? 

Someone was outside the cave. She listened as Nora’s voice rang out, felt a sharp pain in her chest. Nora was back from Ireland, because Nora came and went as it suited her. Nora was back from Ireland, but how long would it be before Nora left again? She’d left Cass in New York, abandoned her in a stranger’s apartment. She’d left Cass in Wicked’s Rest, run off to Ireland without even telling her. How could she pretend her presence here was anything but temporary?

Makaio’s hand landed on her shoulder, and Cass let herself lean into it. She had Makaio. What else did she need?

[theheavensbloom]

WHERE: The Docks WHO: Kal @inkerlock​

“White myrtle petals, white myrtle petals-- last of the batch myrtles, don’t let those wicked mages get their way,” he called half-heartedly into the impassive dockworkers. Tian had gotten used to making up anecdotes about his herbs. For the most part it fooled the common housewife or servant and he wasn’t picky about where he got his coin. The chime of bells and squawking of seagulls did little to inspire patronage, but it did invite serenity. 

He’d grown to love the ocean and the ever-moving waves, ebbing and flowing wherever it pleased. The heavy footfalls on boarded walks added to the cadence of life that surrounded the docks, like the whole world acted a symphony to the ocean’s orchestra. 

The air that morning smelled different once he was able to put a finger to it. The familiar smell of sea salt and fishy brine had another note to it beyond the stench of man. Tian crinkled his brow and took a deeper whiff, turning his head from side to side to see which direction it came from. 

It was when her made out a silhouette against a large, bobbing form on the docks did time seem to slow.  

He remembered it like it was yesterday. A smashing of steel against steel. The sound of angry waves. Thunder. Tian couldn’t recall what the squabble was when his head had spun around the object of his mission to kill a member of the other clan. It had been raining the night of their attack on the Cranes, dampening his senses and recollection but it was hard to forget the smell of sea brine and gunpowder.

Tian paused when it dawned upon him and for a moment, he regretted not being able to see whether the other had noticed him first. His nerves prickled in a way they hadn’t in a long time. He’d been awaiting this reunion. A penance of sort, though he never thought of how he’d have gone about it past finding them again. Would he have remembered their exchange?

There was a soft breeze wafting in from the ocean and scent was overwhelming now, wrapped in a parcel of earthy, herbaceous notes. He was unmistaken.

“Beggartick blossom? It’s known to help seasickness,” he said, extending a spring of red-orange blossoms to the man as he approached. “Not that any of us are going to be sailing soon, but the blossoms hold up very well once dried.”

He spun the stem between his two fingers the longer it remained unplucked. “I’m starting to understand what they mean when they say that the ocean never forgets.”

[bongkillua]

im SUPER late to the ask game however. 5 & 9 for all of them

anon you are never too late i love talking abt these guys and these r rly good questions

5. How did you figure out your oc’s identity?

TUCKER - Tucker's has definitely ebbed and flowed with my own identity! He initially had a very different backstory that was explicitly about him being a stealth and closeted gay trans man. the way i played him made it so that it didnt really work for him to be trans but i hate playing cis characters so there was some weird magic and memory shit involved to make it work. but it just didnt make sense with the reworked story. took it as an opportunity to make him more openly trans but he was still an exclusive gay man for a while. and well then xander came around and i realized i was bisexual so now tucker is unlabeled because i just know hes going to keep changing with me. but like i truly dont think his character can wholly by separated from Gay Trans Man because so much of his personality and identity was built around that in the beginning.

XANDER - i made xander for the sole purpose of having fun with him. like seriously i made him for a school assignment because i didnt have a "cunty, whorish enough" character for the assignment and then she just stuck around so like... her identity has always just been "whatever is fun!" in the beginning he was like explicitly transmasc but i was playing around with using she/her pronouns for myself again so i gave them to xander to see if it would help me gain more confidence and it did! as i fleshed her out more tho her backstory started to rly revolve around changing identity and like specifically masculinity vs. femininity and how she performs both, and wuth that came the idea of transitioning back and forth over periods of time. because of THAT i wanted her to be really into drag because thats what drag is all about... and because shes rly into drag i wanted to explore her relationship to the transFEMININE experience because drag really cant be separated from that. so ive rly focused on embodying binary identities as performance for her gender. and because she sleeps around a lot ive just made her super fluid in terms of sexuality. shes not picky!

JORDAN - jordan was a he/they from the jump but i struggled a lot with their design and development for like YEARS but once i finally started fleshing them out i was immediately like "nah this guy prefers they/them and tacks he on for normies" and it genuinely helped me solidify his perception of not only their own identity but also life in general? theyre very "go with the flow because theyre extremely confident in themself and dont care how others perceive them". and then bisexual just seemed Right. idk. he sorta embodies "cool bisexual kid in high school that helps u realize ur also queer" and i just kinda went with the stereotype lol. also he seems like a Megan Fox Enjoyer.

KONAMI - i designed konami at a time where i was rly interested in the intersection of neurodivergence and queerness so his identity was def informed by that! along with queerness in childhood as a theme. ive always associated aesthetics like his with the rise in usage of neopronouns (in a good way!) so it just made sense to have them use it/its. if i wasnt a coward id throw some more fun pronouns on there but konami is also just a little guy so i honestly default to he/him a lot in the same way that you'd refer to like. a dog. and once again bisexual just made sense. i established pretty early on that his parents were super accepting of him being trans (konami was a binary trans guy when he was alive!) so i feel like sexuality just wasnt a huge concern for him.

9. Are there cultural or lore specific aspects to their identity? If applicable, does their species affect it?

OH MY GODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD THIS IS LITERALLY THE ENTIRE UNDERLYING PREMISE OF WOLFSBANE SO HERE WE GO LOL

TUCKER- ok so the more independent tucker became as a character the more i really leaned into how lycanthropy influences his identity and specifically his queerness. its always been a big part of his story but i rly got to Focus on it once he was mine and mine alone. so in wolfsbane lycanthropy is like. almost directly a metaphor for neurodivergence and like. how do i say this. Being Weird And Feeling Wrong As A Child. which you could argue also makes it a metaphor for transness but like i feel like his lycanthropy makes him trans in other separate ways? like lycanthropy in wolfsbane canonically causes an increase in testosterone production so tucker naturally has facial hair and body hair and a rly deep voice and "male-aligned" body fat distribution. despite being afab. and thats like a big struggle in the story bc his father wants him to Hide that but tucker is very Confident in that, both because he wants to embrace being a werewolf but ALSO because it gives him gender euphoria. and it takes him a LONG time to figure out that those are simultaneously separate things ("im not trans i just look like this!" (you are. you are trans)) and also intrinsically tied (transness as a feeling of Other as opposed to a distinct Gender Identity). AUGH idk if that makes sense. sexuality works pretty similarly. tucker has to repress a lot of himself because his family is scared that his lycanthropy will make him unruly and uncontrollable, and that he will hurt WHOEVER he loves. and in trying to control him they want him to Assimilate (aka Be Heterosexual). so he faces a similar struggle where he spends a long time trying to figure out if hes queer because he Likes Men or if hes queer because he Likes People, BOTH of which have been withheld from him.

XANDER- xander is an energy vampire and relies a lot on the balance between Taking and Giving. this means that he has to hide his true identity and give people a false one in order to get what he needs from them. and when you are performing an identity day in and day out is it really a performance anymore? or is it such a performance that it cant possibly be who you are? so thats like the Central struggle that vampirism invokes onto his identity. sexuality works similarly (can you tell that i have a hard time distancing gender from sexuality?) where he spends so much time forging these fake bonds and hooking up with anyone who will give him the time of day that he really doesnt have the time, energy, or maturity to figure out who he's Truly attracted to. her constant need to perform makes it nearly impossible for her to feel authentic in any way.

JORDAN- im gonna start sounding like a broken record at this point but my understanding of transness and queerness is so far removed from the idea of gender itself that i have no choice but to talk about identity as a whole. SORRY. anyways jordan's identity is heavily influenced by his schizophrenia and his dad. and the way THAT influences him is that he wants to Minimize his body because they do not feel attached to their body at all. and Maximize his ability to Reflect his Father because those experiences were the most important to him. so like. really thinking about it now i feel like a big reason why they even identify as transmasc is a. They Need To Remove Any Unnecessary Part Of Their Body NOW And That Means The Tits Have Got to Go amd b. he can distance himself from who he was as a child and align himself with his FATHER who is like the most important and influential figure in his life. in terms of sexuality they're kind of similar to xander but like the reverse side of the coin? They are so authentically themself that its hard for them to find room in their life for another person. so like while jordan identifies as bisexual i often say they also align themself with aromanticism because romance is just very difficult for him to figure out. a lot of the times it boils down to utility over attraction. which works for some people! (tucker) and not for others (all of his ex's).

KONAMI- konami died and forgot what gender and sexuality were. i explain this more HERE but because of konami's history it doesnt have a reference point for what gender Is. so a lot of his identity boils down to concepts as opposed to things like masculinity and femininity. i really want to do more deep exploration into how tucker, xander, and jordan's queerness influences konami's own identity as well as his perception of gender and identity but i guess for a quick answer he latches onto Connecting Words before he latches onto Individual Labels. so things like "dad" and "aunt" make more sense to him than "man" and "woman" because they have a purpose and a role attached to them. but then again those roles have been defined by queer people who don't perfectly fit into the Status Quo of that role but enact/perform it in unique and nuanced ways. this is also why he more quickly latches onto "son" and "boy" (and specifically how boy fits into a Family structure) than any other gendered labels. again like ive stated before, bisexual came pretty easily because with a lack of gender awareness just came an understanding that gender wasn't a factor in regards to attraction. hence bisexual.

this is so long omfg but what it all boils down to is um. my relationship to queerness is founded on experience, intersectionality, and bodily autonomy, not gender as its own concept. so nonhuman identities (and sometimes just Different Human identities) are always going to influence identity and Be A Metaphor for HOW experience influences identity and vis versa.

[rotten-pest]

She hated indebting herself further, but truth be told a drink of something that was not swampy water was very welcome.

“Yes, eating is important” Cotesia said, less blithe or sarcastic and more plainly observational. “And drinking. Many thanks, for the tea.”

(Contrary to popular belief, Pests did eat. Usually it was an ‘anything goes’ kind of affair, they weren’t picky. Sometimes Pests spat into each others mouths, if one was too weak—usually reserved only for larva, though. Generally regarded as gross by humans, but she didn’t expect them to understand the tenderness of the gesture anyway, not that she had plans about spitting into anyone’s mouth).

She was a tad jealous of Izar’s meal, the bread especially. But envy ebbed where a bit of confusion came through. For all her care for him, she offered him not, nor did he provide his own provisions. Very strange. Maybe she was still sore of their argument? But somehow that didn’t seem the case.

It was not her intention to start needling him again, quite yet. So she kept her skepticism to herself, and dipped her tin cup into the pot, then blew on it to make it cool, before taking a sip and kind of making a face. Not because it was bad but because she’d never had it before and wasn’t expecting to be so… bitter? Very flavorful.

Maybe it was having her stomach no longer empty and something warm and clean to drink, but an idea finally alighted. Aha! She had something to provide. Valuable, too, she hoped. With a jolt she reached to rummage through her pockets before pulling out a spool of fine silk Pest thread. Perfect for all sorts of things—mending garments, or sewing wounds closed. Unlike silk-silk, it didn't foul the wound either. It dissolved more easily than animal gut too.

“I know you said I did not owe you” Cotesia said, reaching back to remember Izar’s phrasing (rather than just the sting of being refuted), “but I would be remiss to simply make use of your services and be on my way. Tis refined silk. Not enough to make a garment whole-cloth, but if you know a skilled seamstress they may have use for it. I, myself, use it close wounds mostly. You could also sell it, I suppose.”

Izar returned the smile, although something about Cotesia’s seemed just a little bit off to her. But that might just be her imagination—or Cotesia still feeling a little tense. A tension that thankfully seemed to have eased, for now. She glanced back at Ensha who was back to staring at Cotesia warily, but Izar could tell that the anger was gone. She blinked when Cotesia brought out a piece of dry meat and tore into it in a way that reminded Izar of… well, a feral animal, maybe? Not that she was going to judge anybody for their table manners. ‟Ah, don’t you worry. We have our own provisions. Speaking of which, I’ll put water on and make us some tea. Do you like tea? It’ll warm us all up.” With that—and a short glance at Ensha to make sure he was fine—she scurried over to the other room again to retrieve the pot she had found earlier. When she returned to the fireplace, Ensha had already brought out the waterskin and the collection of dried herba, so Izar could pour the water—from the Hold’s well, not Liurnia’s muddy lake—into the pot, toss the leaves in and place it on the fire. She felt a little guilty for that rushed and unceremonious way of preparing the hot beverage. When the nomadic merchants did it, it was calm and dignified, and usually included far more sophisticated blends then a handful of herba. But well, this would have to do. Truth to be told, Izar also was a little hungry, but she hesitated to bring out their provisions. She wouldn’t have minded sharing them with Cotesia, but knew that Ensha wasn’t likely to partake in that kind of meal, which—same as him not taking off his armor—would probably seem odd. So she was rather grateful when Cotesia brought up the topic of the map again. ‟The map, yes. I’ll get to it right away,” she said, her treacherous stomach rumbling softly, which earned her a serious look from Ensha who reached for the backpack once more—chest heaving with a silent sigh— and pulled out everything from the sachet they had brought along: a small loaf of bread, dried meat and mushrooms, a bit of cheese. Then he briefly gestured both at her and Cotesia, and added: You should eat first. You tend to forget that over your map-making. A brief pause, then, with emphasis and quite reproachfully, Always.

[m2strikeout]

ch 1 p 41

Previous Next

Start at the Beginning

[anothersebastianblog]

When people are worried about a few months long pause in filming, i always recall 2018, when he literally only began filming Monday in August, 8 months into the year. So, with Monday and EB, he only filmed for a few months between August and early December, with several short breaks. And it was pre-CAA, when he seemingly was less picky about his projects' choices!

.

[sintied]

{➹} – THE LITTLE WRINKLE of the hero's nose at the reminder was more playful than anything else. That was one fact he wasn't going to forget about his partner anytime soon, not after the hedgehog and certain afflictions had decided to test that a little too thoroughly.

But there was some realization when the hybrid mentioned their tongue, or rather its very useful adornment. And Arrow couldn't lie, Volt was right. There was a stark difference in the feeling of his partner with and without that little ball, though he had never been picky about it. He enjoyed it either way. So that part he felt he could understand, even if it was still strange.

Whatever he was going to say, or ask, was cut off when Volt's wet fingers found a new place to tease. The act was abrupt, and frankly the hedgehog hadn't expected his partner to go quite that far even with what they had been doing, but the surprise quickly ebbed into a familiar pleasure. Blue quills went lax and mismatched ears followed suit, though there was still a glare aimed at the hybrid.

Hardly threatening with the catch in the hedgehog's breath, but he had tried. Damn his partner's skilled fingers.

This was the strangest learning experience he had ever had...yet Volt was making a solid demonstration, and a right mess of the hero. His body was reacting in kind, flexing and shivering the more the hybrid spoke and massaged.

How he managed a chuckle, barely stifling the small moan that wanted to slip past his lips, even Arrow didn't know but he did as semi-hazy emeralds looked towards the hybrid. "If this...is your way of...trying t' convince me...you can go for it..."

"Remember love. Some like the pain." Volt knew that it was a weird concept to some, but the hybrid was proof of the statement. Sure his pain/pleasure scale was slightly different from other Mobians because of his pain tolerance, but it wasn't as different when it came to things that involved a needle.

The shift and shiver brought a smile to his muzzle, massaging only a little more firmly in the spots he had demonstrated for the piercings. Looking into the emerald eyes, his hand moved from between them towards his lips.

"'S like my tongue." A pause was taken, long enough for Volt to stick his tongue out far enough that the barbell through his tongue was visible, using said appendage to coat his fingers in saliva. "I know ya can feel the difference when I use my piercin' on ya over just my tongue. Similar concept but internal. The balls on the barbells, called a jacob's ladder, can rub certain places a bit more and heighten the pleasure between partners."

The tips of his slick fingers were brought to the tight ring of muscles after slipping over a blue hip. What better way to describe the way the pleasure worked with those piercings than to let his fingers show it. His fingers carefully moved, rubbing the tight walls in turn with a small amount of stretching and massaging each time they reached slightly deeper.

"The piercing that's done on the tip, a prince albert, brushes that one spot just right." As he spoke, Volt brushed just the pad of his middle finger against that bundle of nerves.

[allhailkingp-a]

( warnings for abuse ??? )

word count: 3659 characters: Aloysius Minch, Lardna Minch, Picky Minch, Mr. Prettyman

There was an oppressive and tense silence in their bedroom as Aloysius was finishing his packing.  He could feel Lardna’s eyes burning into his back as she stood still, cross-armed and and impatiently waiting for him to get a move on.  That bitch really couldn’t leave him to pack in peace, could she?  Was she so worried about him taking or destroying something of worth out of vengeance that she had to stand there and stare at him until he left?

Oh, and there was the matter of him, too.  Her little boyfriend, Mr. Pleasanton or Peaceson or Prettyman or... something like that, was standing watch beside her like she needed the emotional support.  Aloysius didn’t know what was worse, having to deal with Lardna or him.  He could deal with Lardna’s screaming and verbal abuse, but Prettyman was a different specimen entirely.  He tried to be so polite and cordial to Aloysius, as if he wasn’t replacing him in the worst way possible.

That mawkish creep didn’t even realize what he was getting into, did he?  That was the one thing that let Aloysius feel any joy.  The thought of Mr. Prettyman being trapped with Lardna was a good enough revenge for now.  He’d realize just how miserable it was being with her and they’d end up just as disastrous as Aloysius and her had been.  Oh, he couldn’t imagine how great it’d be to hear that the two were getting married.  He bet that Prettyman would actually invite Aloysius to the wedding.  He’d go just to get a glimpse of the upcoming shitshow that it would inevitably be.

Lardna clicked her tongue impatiently.  “Can’t you hurry it up, Aloysius?” she snapped. “I don’t have all day for you to fuck around.  Pack up and leave.”

Aloysius took a deep but shaky breath, feeling rage building up in his chest.  He was tired of screaming at her and arguing with her.  There wasn’t much good it’d do now.  Their marriage was over and this was, ideally, the last time they’d see each other for quite a while.  He wished that they could have cut each other off entirely, but there was the matter of Picky that complicated things.

Lardna was keeping custody of him.  Picky would come visit Aloysius sometimes, but he was hoping that moving to Fourside would deter the two of them enough that it wasn’t all too often.  He almost felt guilty for daring to think that, but he had to be honest with himself now.  Even if it was crushing to watch his family crumble the way it had, he couldn’t have gotten a better deal.

Of course, he loved Picky (he was pretty sure), but... it was so hard.  And so now, with their divorce and his moving out, they were stuck figuring out how they were going to deal with Picky in this split household.  Aloysius was set to send her child support each month, and he agreed to some visitation at Lardna’s insistence, but he would have been more than happy to give her sole custody.  That wasn’t realistic though, and she’d never have allowed him to slip out of their lives entirely.  Besides, she would just fuck him up without some input from Aloysius.

Picky didn’t really seem to care either way, so she wasn’t doing all this on behalf of him, that was for damn sure.  His son had been the silent figure in this whole mess.  Aloysius was a tad grateful that his son had reacted so calmly (or unemotionally) to the divorce.  He was expecting it to much worse than that, but Picky had always been mature for his age.  Not like Pokey, the immature little brat.  Aloysius tried to never think about Pokey anymore, though.  He was long gone (and his disappearance investigated thoroughly with nothing turning up) and both he and Lardna knew he would never come back.

Maybe that was just another failure of this entire family.  Aloysius and Lardna had been such bad parents that one of their sons was now gone for good.  That was another wave of near-guilt whenever he thought about it-- but he was a little relieved that Pokey was gone.  He thought that Lardna felt the same, though she never admitted it.  That had been a massive argument and half, but he just had this feeling that neither of them had loved Pokey as much as they wanted to believe.  But hey, maybe he was just projecting.  Lardna did like to throw that word at him a lot.

Aloysius pulled his suitcase of clothes shut and secured it, now ready to be taken out of this home forever.  He grabbed hold of the handle and pulled it off of the bed.  He finally turned to see Lardna again, who looked irritated just by his being here-- which she undoubtedly was.  She could only roll her eyes at Aloysius.  Prettyman had his arm protectively around her broad shoulders in what appeared to be an attempt at looking as sympathetic to the both of them as physically possible.

He put on a strained and unpleasant smile, gesturing with his suitcase to the door.  “Well, I’m done.  Happy now?”

“I’d be happier if you were dead.”

“L-Lardna--” Mr. Prettyman stammered.

Aloysius could only laugh.  He shook his head in disbelief and tilted his body slightly to slide past Lardna, exiting the bedroom.  Lardna followed closely at his heels like some filthy hound-- and Prettyman, like the demure little thing he was, stayed obediently by her side.  Aloysius unconsciously picked up his pace till he passed Picky’s room.  He paused just beyond it before backing up to peer in.  Picky was sitting on his bed, seemingly in thought.

Exhaling slowly, he hesitated and then entered.  Picky looked up at the sound of Aloysius’ footsteps.  That beyond uncomfortable air returned as Aloysius searched for the right words to say.  “I...  w-well, this is it,” he said. “I’ll stay in contact.”

Stay in contact.  Like Picky was one of his business partners and not his son.  What a shitty choice of words, something Aloysius was already kicking himself for.  Picky seemed indifferent to what he’d said, face propped up his hands. “Okay.”

Again, he felt Lardna staring his down from the doorway.  Aloysius approached Picky and gingerly placed his free hand on his son’s shoulder. “I’ll come visit whenever I can.  We might not be living together anymore, but... you’re still my son.  And I...” Aloysius cleared his throat awkwardly.  He didn’t want to say these next words, but he had to say something.  Mainly to spite Lardna. “I... ahem.  Love you.”

“Okay,” Picky replied plainly again.

That wasn’t the reaction he was hoping for.  Aloysius sighed.  “Okay... well... goodbye.”

“Bye.  And I love you too.”

Aloysius nodded.  He stepped away and exited Picky’s room, saying nothing more.  Lardna and Prettyman followed him down to the living room.  His ex-wife pulled him close by his suit jacket and snarled, “Don’t even try to get Picky on your side.  You’ll just use him to get back at me.  You know you don’t give a fuck about him.”

Aloysius shoved her back as Prettyman raised his hands in alarm.  “N-Now, Aloysius--”

“You don’t give a fuck about him either,” he hissed back. “You’re not the good guy here!  All you are is a fucking cunt.  That’s it.”

Lardna’s eyes widened and her expression changed to unmistakable rage.  “What did you call me?”

Aloysius pulled opened the front door.  “I said you were a cunt.”  He waved, a smarmy grin plastered on his face.  “Be seeing you.”  He slammed the door shut behind him.  The last thing he heard was Lardna’s shrieking his name and Mr. Prettyman’s attempts to keep her calm.

“She complains about you all the time,” Picky said.  He poked his overcooked pork chop with his fork, not meeting his father’s eye. “I guess she never really got over it.”

Aloysius snorted and leaned back in his chair across from Picky.  “I’m not surprised by that.  I mean, you know how hysterical she is.”  The thought of Lardna ranting and raving about him even after his moving out made him laugh.  He leaned forward, the two front legs of his chairing connecting with the floor. “That’s great.”  Picky halfheartedly agreed.  “...you’re not going to eat your pork chop?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“After I did all this work to make a homecooked meal?  At least take a bite.”

Picky sighed and tested the chop with a small bite.  Aloysius raised his eyebrows in expectation.  “It’s... okay.”

Aloysius slammed his palm on the table, chuckling.  Picky jumped slightly at the sound.  “I just can’t please you, huh?  Fine.  We’ll waste it, then.”  He plucked Picky’s plate from the table as well as his own and wandered over to the kitchen.  He scraped off the nearly whole pork chop into the trash and set the dirty plates in the sink.  “You can at least clean up for me if you’re not gonna eat my food.”

Aloysius sat back down at the dinner table, watching Picky get up to start his chore.  He reached over to the beer cans on the table.  Empty.  He tried the other.  Also empty.  “And get me another beer, will you?” he called. “And I mean now, Picky.”  He could almost sense irritation in Picky’s reaction as he shut off the sink to get his father a beer.  Aloysius snatched the can from Picky’s little hands when he finally gave him his offering and cracked it open. “Yeah, thanks, kiddo.”

Picky nodded and recommenced his chore.  Aloysius took a swig of his beer.  “If you do a good job, maybe I’ll give you a beer, huh?”

“No, that’s okay.”

“What, you don’t want one?  Come on, it’ll be fun!  You’re getting to be a man now, aren’t you?  Trust me, it’s not bad when you get used to it--”

“I said I don’t want to,” Picky replied in a tone that was sharper than intended.

“Watch your tone,” Aloysius warned. “What’s with you tonight?  You’ve been acting like a brat the whole goddamn time.”

Picky’s voice wavered when he responded.  There was that tinge of fear in it, too, that Aloysius was all too familiar with. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

“If you don’t want to be here, then just say it,” Aloysius said with a malicious friendliness. “I know how you feel about me.  Just so you know, I didn’t want to have you here either.  But your mother-- oh, your wonderful mother!-- insisted that you should.  Probably because she’s sick of you and just wanted to dump you on me so she could go off and-and-and-- and let that little creep fuck her.”

“Dad,” Picky tried to cut in, voice cracking.  “I don’t hate you.  Please.  Can we just stop talking about this?”

“Oh, you want to stop talking about it, huh?  Sure, Picky!  Let’s drop it, and then we’ll sit here and pretend like nothing is wrong!  Just like when I was still living with your mother!  It’ll be like old times.  Well, fine.  You’ll get what you want.  You win!  Hope you’re happy.”

Picky slammed one of the plates in his hand down into the sink.  It connected with the metal sink with a loud bang, though it didn’t sound like it broke.  Through a choking sob, he forced out the words “I’m not.”  Aloysius huffed, rolling his eyes at his son’s crying.  If he was supposed to feel sympathetic, then Picky was doing a terrible job convincing him to care.

“Just knock it off, Picky.  Stop acting like a girl and grow up.”

“I wanna go home,” Picky sobbed as he wiped the tears from his face.  “I wanna go home.”

Aloysius pushed his chair back to stand up.  He made a sweeping gesture outward with his arms, beer still in hand.  “Fine.  You’ll get your way yet again.  Let me call your mother.  ‘Cause I’m not driving you back, and if she won’t either, then you’re walking home, got it?”

Fourside and Onett were far, but he didn’t care.  Picky obviously did though, as he objected, “B-But--”

“Just keep quiet.”  Aloysius picked up the receiver and dialed in what had once been his home phone number, now burned into his brain permanently despite his wanting to forget.

“Sooo,” Aloysius started uncertainly, cradling the receiver between his ear and his shoulder to open a beer, “Christmas is coming up, huh?”

“Yep,” Picky replied. “Thirteen days.”

“That soon?  Wow...”  He shook his head in disbelief.  Time was flying by so fast.  He still hadn’t gotten the obligatory present for Picky just yet.  He had no idea what he even liked, and Lardna wouldn’t help him out on that front, of course.  He’d ask Prettyman, but he’d never want help from that fucker.  He could figure it out on his, probably.  Well, he’d try anyhow, and no one could expect much more from him.  “So you done with school till January, or...?”

“Almost.”

“You’re getting good grades?”

“Yes.”

Aloysius chuckled awkwardly.  “Well, we’ll know for sure when we get your report card, huh?”  Picky hummed in agreement. “What grade are you in again?  Third?”

“Fifth.”

Shit.  Bad guess. “Ah, right.  Yeah, fifth.  I was just testing you.”

God, there was so much about Picky he knew he was missing out on.  He hadn’t seen him in months.  At least six or seven months altogether, but he hadn’t been really keeping track.  Aloysius just let the days fly guiltily away, never wanting to know for sure just how much he was neglecting his son.

Not that it really seemed to matter.  Picky never seemed happy when they were together, so they weren’t missing out on much.  Still, Christmas was a pretty big deal for kids.  He’d probably have to go see Picky before then, at least to drop off his present once he figured out what it was.  And, well, there was that other thing, too.

“So John Prettyman told me you guys are having a Christmas party.  He invited me, actually.”

“Yeah, he told me.”

“Good, good, he told you... uh, well, I was thinking I might go.”

Picky’s voice sounded so surprised when he replied, “Really?”

Aloysius paused.  Was he really committing to this...?  Well, it wasn’t a wedding to crash, but he needed to see what Lardna and Prettyman were up to nowadays.  His curiosity had to be satiated somehow.  And yeah, he could see Picky and fill the quota of quality time for the next few months to tide him over. “...Yeah!  Might as well.  I was going to come down and see you anyways.”  He sighed.  “Sorry I haven’t really seen you, kiddo.  I mean, I’ve been looking for good work again and it’s just been crazy here, so you know--”

“You don’t need to make excuses.  It’s fine."

Damn, all right then.  “N-No, I mean--”

Picky cut him off again. “Dad, I said it’s fine.  Don’t worry.  I’ll tell John you’re coming to the party, okay?”

“Thanks, Picky.  See you soon.”

“Yeah.  I’m looking forward to seeing you.”

God, he needed to not screw this up.

This was the first time Aloysius had been back in Onett since the divorce.  The town was poisoned to him after that.  He never wanted to come back, and yet, here he was, about to walk into his ex-wife’s and her boyfriend’s Christmas party.  He wondered who else was invited.  Mr. Prettymen seemed pretty liberal with the invites if he’d asked Aloysius to come.  He was sure Ness’ family would come over for as long as they could bear, the pretentious bastards.  He wasn’t sure who else would, and he almost dreaded to find out.

Aloysius stood at the front door for what felt like an hour, but was probably only a minute or two.  His hand, curled into a fist, hovered just above the door as he hesitated to knock.  He held Picky’s present in the crook of his arm on the other side.  It threatened to slip from his grip at any moment and so he stood there, continuously readjusting his hold and waiting for the courage to knock.  Suddenly, the door swung open, exposing Aloysius to the warm lights inside.

Lardna stood there with a disdainful and already unhappy look on her face.  “Aloysius, just come in.  You’ve been standing there for ten minutes.”

Aloysius frowned and pushed past her while she stepped aside.  “I was just reconsidering some of my choices.  Nothing wrong with that,” he replied quietly but snidely.

Mr. Prettyman approached with a friendliness that set Aloysius on edge.  With his arms outstretched as if he expected a hug, he said, “I’m glad you could make it, Aloysius!  I didn’t think you would come!”

“Yeah, I didn’t either,” Aloysius grumbled, trying to keep his distance. “Where’s Picky?  I have a...”  He gestured with the present in his hand.  “Yeah.”

“Oh!  He’s around here somewhere... check the kitchen, maybe?”

Lardna cut in. “You can just put it underneath the tree.  Picky doesn’t need it now.”

Aloysius shot a glare at her.  “What’s one present before Christmas?  Big deal.  It’s not like I’ll be there to see him open it up otherwise.”  Not waiting for Lardna’s response, he booked it towards the kitchen at Prettyman’s advice.  Surely enough, Picky was there, gathered by Ness and his little sister.  He perked up a tad at Aloysius’ appearance.

“You actually came,” Picky said.

“I said I would.  So I’m here.”  Aloysius held out the box to Picky.  “Got this for you.”

Picky took the present from his dad.  “Thanks.  I’ll open it a little later.”

“No, you can open it now,” he replied encouragingly.

Lardna grabbed Aloysius and yanked him back by his shoulder.  “It can wait.  He’s talking to his friends,” she said with a fake sweetness.  “Come on.  Don’t bother Picky, all right?”

“It’ll only take a second.”

“Then you can wait a little while longer!  Oh-- Rich, come over here and say hi!”

Aloysius groaned.  Not Rich.  He fucking hated Rich.  He still never paid Aloysius back for all the money he lent him and his family.  The nerve of that rat bastard, after everything he’d done for him.  His wife and kids weren’t much better either.  Ness was a constant annoyance, as far as he was concerned.  Rich was just another reminder of how much of a shithole Onett really was.

And there he was.  Rich, home on a rare occasion, just like Aloysius.  Except his family was still in tact.  He looked surprised to see Aloysius there.  Just as surprised as everyone else.  “Aloysius, it’s been a long time,” he said in attempt to be friendly.  “How’ve you been?”

“Aside from Lardna divorcing me, taking my house, and forcing me to pay child support while I’m stuck between jobs and barely surviving myself?  Just swell, Rich.  Just swell.  And how’s your family, huh?”

The smile on Rich’s face became all the more forced.  Lardna shot a deadly look at Aloysius, no longer able to keep herself calm.  “Will you excuse us for a moment, Rich?  Thanks.”

The closest place that allowed them any privacy was bedroom upstairs.  Lardna shut both of them inside and Aloysius, so curious to see what bullshit would come out of her mouth this time, was willingly lead there.  If only because he wanted to give her a piece of his mind, too.

“Do you want to pull yourself together, Aloysius, and stop embarrassing your family?”

“Family?” Aloysius interjected. “What family is that?”

“Picky.  You acting like a jackass in front of everyone is not going to go over well, especially since you haven’t even bothered to visit him in months.  Months!  And then you show up and you decide to fuck everything up again!  What’s wrong with you?  Why even bother?”

Aloysius scoffed. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.  You’re the one acting like a bitch when I tried to give Picky his goddamn present.  I mean, is it really that hard for him to just open it really quick while I’m here?  Was it really so horrible for me to want that?  Huh?  It wouldn’t kill you to just keep your fucking mouth shut or leave me alone while I’m here.  I just wanted to see Picky.  That’s it.”

“And now you’ve seen him, so you can go!”

“No way.  I made a special trip from Fourside for this.  I’m staying and I’m going to make this party a living hell for you if you don’t stop this shit.”

“You’re repulsive.”

“So are you.  You’re a soul-sucking bitch.”

“You’re a fucking bastard,” Lardna hissed quietly.

Aloysius felt a burning hatred deep in his gut.  Neither said anything at all for a moment then, taking the time to really look at each other for the first time in a year.  Lardna was the first one to move, taking Aloysius’ face into her hands and pulling him into an aggressive kiss.

Lardna pulled back, still cupping his face.  Aloysius was too stunned to speak.  Fuck.  Why did he miss this so much?  He took the initiative and kissed her again.  It wasn’t as long or as intense, but there was this sort of giddy embarrassment that came from it.  He pulled her into his arms, pressing kisses onto her jawline and neck.  She squirmed and objected, just like she always did.  She was too ticklish for it, she complained.  Aloysius always thought it was too cute to not kiss her there.

Then, he pulled back, holding her at arm’s length.  “What will John think?” he asked, half genuine and half mocking.

“John doesn’t need to know.”

Aloysius grinned at her and pulled her in for another kiss.  Just like her, the cheating bitch.  But for that one singular moment, she was his cheating bitch, and that was enough for him.

[georgiapeach30513]

Just One Night

Summary:  Drinking with Jake Jensen leaves you with a night with him and Frank.

Pairings: Jake Jensen X Reader X Frank

Rating: Explicit

Warnings:  Explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut, threesome (2M/1F), unprotected sex, slight praise kink, creampie nicknames (Gorgeous/Sweet Girl) Oral sex (F/M recieving), fingering, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  2k

Jake Jensen Masterlist

EB!Frank Masterlist

“So, are you literally here just to get drunk?”  Jensen asks while your eyes scan the bar.

“Nope.  Hopefully I end up taking someone home tonight,” you were on a mission after a breakup.  Not that it was a particularly bad breakup, but he broke up with you during a weekend where you were bound and determined to get laid.  So, what is a girl to do, but go out to the bar?  Running into your flirty and attractive friend Jake Jensen, you only hope that someone doesn’t confuse the goofball as your boyfriend, because you can only assume he isn’t willing to go home with you.

“You have no shame,” he laughs out looking around the bar for you.  “What about that one?” he points at a man that looks like he’s dripping with money.  Hair slicked back perfectly.  And his comfy sweater actually makes you want to crawl onto his chest.

“Maybe another time.  He’s not what I’m looking for tonight,” Jensen starts to point out another person, you notice his grungy hands.  “Did you even clean up after work or just come right here?” he only shrugs his shoulders continuing to look around.  Now he’s determined to find you someone.  “Jensen!  How are you going to find someone to take home with dirty fingers?  And you’re all sweaty.”

“Don’t act like you don’t like it.  I saw you checking me out.”  Your gaze leaves his, because you did.  There has always been something appealing to you about a man who looks like he had been working outside.  A bit dirty and sweaty, and you just want them to ravage you.  “You know, some of us come here not to leave with the first person that comes in, but to have a drink and wind down.”

“Not the first person.  How many people have you pointed out?” he can’t argue.  You have always been picky.  You spot him as soon as he walks in.  Looking perfectly careless, and yet still so well put together.  The blues of his eyes shine despite the smoky atmosphere, and he even nods his head towards you as he lights up his own cigarette.

“I believe, we found us a winner,” Jake rolls his eyes, while you’re nearly wiping up drool off your chin.

“I’m sure if I stare hard enough, I can get sexual gratification just from that.”

“You’re utterly ridiculous.  Just go talk to him,” he gently urges you to move away from him.  Picking up his bottle for a quick drink.

“A lady never starts the conversation.”

“And you’re no lady.  Go on,” you don’t have to.  After the man gets a drink, he heads straight towards the two of you.

“You looking for a third tonight, gorgeous?” interesting turn of events.  You could let him know that Jensen is just a friend, but the look Jensen gives you, he too, is interested in where you take that.

“Hmm…wasn’t something I had considered,” you finger absentmindedly skims the edge of your glass, while looking at him.  “What’s your name by the way?” “Frank.”

“Jensen.”

“Y/N.  Now that we have everyone’s name.  What did you have in mind Frank?”  Jensen grabs tightly to your thigh, and you notice how stiff his posture is.

“Wait, how long have you two been together?” Frank asks.  “Don’t want to get in between a relationship.”

“We’re not,” you know you answered far too quickly.  “Just friends.”

“Jensen?  You want to share your friend or am I taking her home myself?” Frank smirks at Jensen.  You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows deeply.  His fingers no longer grabbing your thigh, but soften, and he gently rubs your leg.  You had never looked at Jensen as anything more than an attractive goofball, but you would definitely want more than just something casual with him.  He would be worth the wait.

“Just one night,” Jensen’s fingers turn your chin to look at him.  “You okay with that sweet girl?” you nod your head, and look back to Frank, pulling them both by the hand out of the smoky bar.

Jensen’s hand grips tightly to your waist, his other pulling you tightly into his mouth, his kisses near too sweet.  Frank’s mouth connects to the back of your neck, trailing down your body while his fingers roam your curves.  As gorgeous as Frank is, you can’t help but spend extra time with Jensen.  Feeling him like this for the first time.  Your fingers drifting over the hard lines of his toned arms, but not to leave Frank out, a hand goes behind you, as you intertwine in his soft curls, and he spins your body around to face him.

Jensen’s hands skillfully remove your jeans.  Kneeling down his lips connect to your legs, using his mouth to worship your body, while Frank’s hands knead your breasts.  Jerking your shirt off, he croons when he sees the swell of your chest.  His lips find your sensitive skin and you’re overwhelmed by the pairs of lips that explore you.

Frank quickly removes your bra, and Jensen’s teeth nip at your panties, pulling them off of you with his mouth.  “Jens…” you whimper as his fingers wander up your inner thigh, combing through your leaking cunt.

“You’re okay with this sweet girl?” he asks.  Leaning back to peer up at you, his bright blue eyes peer at you through his glasses.  A softness that you never have noticed before.

“Yes, Jensen.  Just overwhelmed,” you twist back to run a hand down his jaw, tickling his goatee, and he offers you a smile, fully entering his thick digits in your glistening cunt.  Leaning your neck back you keen at the feeling of him, wondering how you’re ever going take more than his fingers.

Franks lips kiss up the column of your neck while your head is thrown back.  “Taste so good gorgeous,” his voice whispers out on your skin.  Your hands cascade on his shirt, removing his clothes so you’re not the only one bare.  He stops only to assist you in the removal of his clothes.  Pushing Jensen off you before hoisting you up and carrying your body to the bed.  “You want her first?”

You look up at Jensen, almost regretting you brought someone.  You were unaware that Jensen would have agreed to fucking you.  Frank looks between the two of you.  “How about you suck my cock?  We don’t know each other that well, yet.  But first, I need to taste you.  You don’t mind, do you?” his face looks over to Jensen, his hands already spreading your legs, his body crawling over yours, not waiting for a response.

Jensen shuffles around awkwardly, watching as Frank kisses his way up your legs.  Kissing up your arousal that made its way to your thighs.  Your fingers lace through his soft curls, urging him to go closer to where you need him.  He obliges, his tongue swipes up your slit slowly.  His tongue flicks around on your bundle of nerves, his fingers ghosting up your leg.  Sliding delicately up your skin, goosebumps appear all over your body in the wake of his touch, and your finger curls to beckon Jensen over to you.

Frank’s fingers continue to tease around your drenched cunt before entering inside of you.  He continues working on you, and Jensen leans over you, kissing you, wrapping your other hand around Jensen, you pull him closer, deepening your kiss, and he swallows all your moans.  You reach down, pulling his cock free.  Wrapping your hand around his shaft.  You pull away to watch your hand fisting him.  Gasping when you finally see him on display, “Holy shit!” you exclaim at his size.  Never imagining the boy would be so blessed.  Jensen offers you one of his signature crooked smiles.

Frank works his fingers into you so perfectly, while his tongue does magic tricks on your clit.  Curling his fingers inside of you, removing his mouth only to tell you, “Cum on my fingers gorgeous.  Then I’m fucking that pretty mouth.”  His fingers hitting your g spot while his mouth sucks on your little nub.  And you cum hard, moaning into Jensen’s mouth before Frank crawls over you.  “She’s all yours.”

Frank sits at the top of the bed, and Jensen flips your body over.  Pressing his fingers between your shoulder to bring your closer to Frank’s waiting cock.  He watches as you lick up the underside of him, using your tongue to spread around Frank’s precum.  Jensen runs his tip through your folds, humming at your glistening cunt, watching as he pushes into you.  You stop your motions with Frank, needing to be present as Jensen slides in inch by inch.

Turning to watch him.  His mouth opens and he pants, watching himself spread you open.  “Oh shit.  Wow, I didn’t…oh fuck…” his words spill out of his mouth.  His hands grip tightly to your hips and he begins to rut into you.  His pelvis hits on your ass, and you return back to Frank.  Wrapping your lips around him, hollowing out your cheeks until his tip hits the back of your throat.

Frank’s fingers brush across your face, holding tightly to your head as you match your movements to Jensen’s thrusts.  Your moans hum on Frank, and your hands grip tightly to his toned thighs.  Using his legs to steady yourself.  “Come on, gorgeous.  I know you’ve got to be louder than that,” Frank grunts down to you.  Forcing himself deeper into your throat.  His moans become louder when you gag around him.  Speeding up his thrusts as he fights for his release.

You feel Frank’s momentum becoming clumsy, his moans turn more to grunts, and you feel his seed spurt deep in your throat.  Swallowing the thick cream, you look up at him with hooded eyes.  He pets around your face and Jensen still pounds you from behind.  “Going to let you two be.  Thank me later,” he winks before jumping off the bed, walking into the bathroom and gets in the shower.

Jensen pulls out of you, laying down on the bed, “Wanna watch you ride me.”  His voice thick and heavy with lust, and you crawl over him.  Whimpering as you lower on his length, and a sigh releases at the stretch of him.  Your hands rub along his chest, listening to the changing in his voice with every touch of him.  “Wanted this for so long.”

“Me, too.  You feel so good Jensen.  Stretch me so well,” your praises to him cause him to grip tightly to your hips, urging you to move on him, and still feeling too far away from you, he pulls himself up to you.  Your lips attach together, his hands slide to hold the globes of your ass, and your body moves on top of him.  Legs and arms wrapping around him.  Holding him as close as possible.  Reveling in the delight of Jake Jensen’s body.

“Wanna fill you up sweet girl, but…”

“It’s okay,” you pant over him, wanting to feel more warmth from Jensen.  “Do it, I trust you,” you continue to bounce on top of him, watching as his face shows how much pleasure you’re bringing him.  Feeling your belly heat up you chase your release.  Grinding over top of him, his hands hold tighter to you in a bruising squeeze.  You come undone over him, but his hands keep your movements going until he spurts deep in your waiting cunt.  Your head falling on his shoulder, inhaling deeply the sunny smell of Jensen, falling asleep with how comfortable you feel.

He lays you down, pulling your body closer to him.  His lips whispering kisses along your sticky skin, and Frank comes out watching him.  “Sorry.  But it looks like it worked.  You finally got your girl.  Let me know if you need help with anything else.”

Masterlist