#even your pinky finger and like a chunk of your brain

[pi-crust]

I hate people that draw really good, I want to steal your hands and your brain and y'know what I might as well steal your skin while I'm at it.

[thanotaphobia]

There is a lot Tubbo does not think about these days.

His brain is constantly going a hundred kilometers an hour; thoughts and emotions and plans running wild, ideas crowding each other to the point of entity cramming. Machine blueprints and scheming plans. Nothing illegal. He would never.

(A lie. He does not think about the blueprints scribbled under tables and hidden behind book shelves, carved into his own skin with his teeth ideas for drills a thousand, a million chunks wide.)

He tinkers at night and sleeps in the day, waking in fits and starts. Tubbo is never warm enough- he shivers underneath three thick woolen blankets Philza lended him and sits beside lava, holding his hands out to warm it. The machinery is warm. Machinery is alive, breathing and producing heat beneath his hands.

Tubbo doesn't think about ice, and he doesn't think about the things he doesn't remember. He knows Phil. He knows Fit. He knows, strangely, Etoiles and the others. Not well. Faint, indiscriminate nostalgia. He writes it all down in the margins of an architectural plan and brick and mortars the roll of paper into the wall of the building.

Snow crunches beneath his feet and he flinches so hard he drops his pickaxe. His insides itch. Guilt eats his heart from the inside out. If he were to look into a mirror, he's not sure he would recognize his own face.

Phil tells him it's normal. Phil tells him he'll get used to it. Tubbo says he doesn't know what Phil is talking about, because he knows Phil and doesn't know how and is not thinking about that undeniable fact.

Something about Phil soothes his nerves like a balm, same with Niki. Like kin, they know each other. Phil recognizes him even when Tubbo can't. There are holes in his memory like melting ice, the edges sharp as knives. Everything in unapproachable. He doesn't let it stop him.

"I think I've died before," Tubbo tells Phil late one night, both of them sitting up by lantern light and squinting at their notebooks in silence.

"Yeah," Phil says, charcoal staining his hands. It stains his face where he's touched his own skin absently, smearing inky void across his cheeks like war paint. "Like everyone else."

"I think I froze to death," Tubbo says. He's got a black cloak around his shoulders, but it smells like grass and dirt, not soot and ash. It belongs to Missa. He wiggles his hand out from beneath the fabric, staring at his right pinky and ring finger. They are made of metal. Using the mechanism is as natural as breathing. Tubbo knows his own handiwork; he just doesn't remember building it. Or losing the fingers. He doesn't remember how he got most of his scars. "Maybe I exploded. I think it's gonna happen again."

"Don't get your hopes up," Phil says, voice lagging as he only pays half-attention. Tubbo doesn't care.

"I'll just cheat death," Tubbo proclaims. He looks down at his scribbled drawings, and his chest swells with an indescribable emotion.

Across the room, Phil snorts, as though he's just thought of an inside joke. Tubbo is not in on it. He doesn't think about how he almost laughs himself anyway. He just tucks himself back inside of Missa's cloak and does not think of ice.

[doukeshi-kun]

Cannibalism stalker! Nikolai has me on a choke hold.

My brain has been rotting for it like ajheikwg ueu

Imagine stalker!nikolai comes to his silly campervan to see you asleep on his bed, and he has the urge to tear into your skin, rip and preserve your flesh, maybe even take a chuck out of it and swallow it so a piece of you would be within him, with him for as long as he lives.

He gently encases your frame and digs his hands into a wound whilst giving you plenty of face smooches, gliding his tongue over your shoulders before leaving bite marks stained with blood all over.

If he could, silly guy might rip open your chest to kiss your heart tenderly before setting it back into your ribcage, maybe still holding it.

Merge bodily souls with your or smth.

I'm kicking my feet, punching the air, giggling to a phantom over this rn.

But he can't, cause silly guy Cannibalism stalker!nikolai doesn't want you dead but he has urges so he settles for biting you hard enough to draw blood (●’∇’)♪

And even better, he's doing all of this with his hand intertwined with yours at the end of it.

And then, being romantic fanatic, he is (he is not, I think). He's bites around the base of your pinky finger, placing a morally and physically questionable bind that applies to you even though you're silly asleep and didn't say yes, but you will when you're awake.

When his teeth leave the flesh, prominent markings can be seen etched onto it, serving his own delusions. However, it's, of course, not something drastic.

It's a simple 'you'll never leave me' because he's silly and insane like that (he'll kill you if you do).

Ajjdndnfjsknajfjdbfjfj meow.

Being the silly clown he is, he obviously doesn't clean up the split blood just yet.

He lets your blood drip and seeps into the pristine white sheets of his blanket before smiling like some maniacal happy face clown because you are now imprinted onto his belongings as well.

Due to sanitary purposes, he would of course change the sheets and clean you up before snuggling to you and drift off to lala land to dream about ripping your body to chunks, piecing you back together so that he can obviously soak into your blood and fully, in physical form merge with you.

MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW

I'm mentally deteriorating from this brain rot, oh my fucking god, pray to the lorddd 🎣

tw: gore, vore, cannibalism, nsfw

surprisingly anon, gore isn't that heavy of a topic in my blog lmao but hear ye—! our dear laotianye has come to the rescue, doing the lord work!

mmmm i really love our silly guy is being SO tender with the heart like omg that's the organ that beats for his name 🫀 and brrrrr i love the thought of him doing it while holding hands like HE WOULD TALK THROUGH IT HE WOULD TALK THROUGH ITTTT

i also like that he would bite and make a bite ring around your finger. like yes bae, embrace that primal ferality of yours 😍 he'd probably get hard as fuck when you do the same to him. on a second thought, imagine stalker!nikolai is fucking you dumb and purposely slip his fingers into your mouth in hopes for you biting him hehe

and i like that his dream is literally about devouring and murdering you like if that ain't love, idk what is 😌❤️ also, imagine after he dreams about all of that, he just scans your body, not for lust purpose but he's imagining dissection marks lmao i'm gonna stop

PRAY TO THE LORD

[pumpkin-patch-cat]

C R A V E

Beelzebub x GN reader one shot

(NSFWish. No severe warnings)

I wrote this for the heck of it 🤷🏾‍♀️.

(A/n - as usual, please pardon any grammar and punctuation mistakes. Thanks!)

How had you managed to let your mind wander so carelessly? And why were you still staring at them? 

"Them" being Beelzebubs fingers; the ones currently wrapped tight around a Gigadeath burger. Squished against his mouth as if it were his last meal on earth. 

The usual.  

You were certain he had just asked you a question. Unfortunately, that question ended up lost in translation the moment he acquired the chunk of sustenance. And for the life of you, you couldn't remember what he had said. 

Instead, a few minutes prior, your focus had reluctantly shifted to his thicker than normal appendages as they tapped impatiently on the table you two shared.

Beelzebub had invited you out to Hell's Kitchen for a bite to eat, which you happily accepted. He took the time to ask you, and yet your mind kept turning to mush each time a bit of grease from the acquired burger gushed from in between his fingers and over his knuckles. 

'Those should be my juic- Where did that even come from!?'

Quickly, you shoved the merciless thoughts away, opting to focus on your own burger. 

Compared to Beels hulking hands, your own hands were considerably small. You struggled to keep the contents of the sandwich from falling to its demise back onto the table while the demon across from you secured his portion with ease. 

'Focus...focus' 

"Hey, y/n? Are you good over there? Looks like you're having problems." 

"Huh?" 

"I said it looks like dinner is getting the best of you. You're dropping all the best parts." 

With your attention finally preoccupied, you peered down at the messy mound of toppings starting to form beneath the burgers position. Damnit.

"Oh, shoot...I didn't even notice." You knitted your brows. Beel chuckled, wiped his hands on a napkin, and then reached for your sandwich. 

"Wait, I'm still gonna eat that-"

"I know, but I want to help" 

Beel did things usually without thinking much about it. So when he reached in front of you to open the top most bun of your burger, and skillfully place the toppings back in their rightful spots, you were certain your brain short circuited. The couple silver rings he wore on his middle and pinky fingers glinted in the light of the restaurant as he worked. Ever the perfectionist when it came to food preparation, and a firm believer in not wasting food, he made sure no toppings were left behind. 

You watched closely as the burger seemed to take shape back into the work of art it was before. Now neatly nestled between two thick, large hands that held it toward you, you bit your lip.

"There, now eat up." He beamed, proud of his handy work.

You blinked, mystified, after finally catching up with Beelzebubs actions. He'd hold it for you while you ate. A simple gesture to him, but something on an entirely different level of intimacy for you. You swallowed hard. 

"Are...are you sure? I can honestly do it myself."

"Don't worry about it. I'd feel bad if we came all this way just for you to spend the entire time fighting with your food. So, take a bite...before I do." The demon chuckled, urging the sandwich closer, but you knew he was serious.

With a nod, you leaned up and forward. The grease from your burger had begun to drip against his fingers now, slowly decending over his knuckles and leaving a shimmering trail against his skin. 

Only a few inches more and you'd over come this moment and you would be satisfied, with embarrassments avoided, right?

That certainly would be the case if the sound of your heartbeat hadn't drowned out the sound of your name being called softly moments later. 

Without realizing it, your eyes had closed the moment you took a bite. Your mouth moved on its own, coming in for a second bite simply for your lips to connect with his knuckles, your tongue lapping out to catch the excess grease. 

"Y-y/n?" 

Your breath ghosted over his skin gently after you swallowed, finally meeting the magenta and purple gaze of the demon across from you; suddenly aware of your mistake.

'Crap…'

"Beelzeboo, I'm sorry! I-" 

"Was it good?" 

 He peered at you curiously, cutting you off; burger still in hand.

After a few seconds of the question buffering in your mind, you answered.

"It...it was, thanks" 

The demon simply nodded before setting the burger down. Although not before ripping another smaller piece from the sandwich and holding it up before you. 

The look on his face was perplexing. Curiosity mixed with...something else. 

"Here...eat" the piece of food in his hand moved closer to you, however, it was moved away when you attempted to capture it with your own hand. 

"Nah uh, I'll hold it...you eat." 

You stared dumbfounded at the smaller offering, your eyes flickering back to his when he urged it closer. 

"You look like you're hungry…" he tilted his head slightly, offering you a small, toothy smile to punctuate his gesture. "I'd be happy to help…" 

You gulped with anticipation the closer his hand came. And when the bit of food passed your lips, you sighed, closing your eyes; basking in the flavor. 

Beelzebub watched on gingerly, noting the moment the food slid down your throat. And while the food was gone, he kept his painted fingers pressed against your grease stained lips. 

His eyes remained on your plump tiers, calculating his next move. But as though you could read his mind, your tongue simply laved out gently over one of his waiting fingertips; his index finger slowly disappearing into your mouth. 

Thankfully, you two found a quieter spot toward the back of the restaurant. Mainly because Beelzebub's eating habits tended to unnerve customers. 

The longer beel studied your face, the bolder you felt having the appendage pressed beyond your lips. 

Never in your wildest dreams had you seen this coming, yet here you were, sucking shamelessly on the demons finger; twirling and curling your tongue around it in a dance a pure seduction.

"So good…" he murmured.

On the other side of the table, although stone faced, Beel sat enamored by your musings. Sucking the appendage a little harder pulled an almost guttural purr from the belly of the beast who seemed to just stroke his lips idly in thought. But in reality, Beel was wiping away the bits of drool threatening to dribble down his chin.

His hunger was growing at an exponential rate and not for food. 

On the contrary, both meals had since been forgotten. 

"Y/n..." his husky voice drifted across the table, pulling you from your task. When your eyes connected again, you were reminded instantly of the supernatural prowess the man across from you possesses. Although the room was lit well, his eyes shone bright, glowing magenta and purple; pulsing with primal need. 

"I think…we should go."

It wasn't a suggestion, but a command uttered the moment his finger was reluctantly pulled from your mouth. 

"Go where?" The sudden movement of the large demon pushing away from the table to stand quickly had you pressed back against your seat. With his hand now outstretched awaiting yours, he only grinned. 

"Well, you still look hungry, and I'm all too willing to feed you exactly what you want" 

[mollymagician]

I actually finished the second chapter of my weird little street artist!Dream AU

I am so proud of myself. Like, so proud, guys.

*************************

A week passed. Slowly the sunflowers faded from the New Inn’s bricks, distorted and worn away by rain and curious fingers.

Hob had spent a good amount of time scrolling through the various social media accounts run by enthusiasts dedicated to cataloging Dream’s work and any bits of personal information that they could gather about the artist in question, which was: nothing. Zero.

Well, aside from one blogger who claimed to have seen a shadowy figure lurking around one of the murals at two in the morning and described them as…tall.

Yes, tall, Hob thought. Legs for days. And the hair’s got to add at least two inches.

Matthew was right, he had been out of touch lately, but this sort of thing wasn’t normally in his wheelhouse anyway. He appreciated art and what it meant to the world but he had enough personal artistic ability to fill the tip of his pinky finger. Literally. He’d broken the ice with more than one tough group of students by illustrating his lecture on the fly with horribly drawn graphs and chaotic stick figures. Still, he could recognize talent when he saw it.

He had a few favorites saved on his phone. On the side of a building just off Richmond Green, an expanse of blue and white, shot through with swirling figures in every earthy shade—children, it took Hob a moment to realize. Children running against a vibrant blue sky. Tucked just out of sight of the bustling crowds at the Tower of London was a flowing mass of sunset hues shot through with streaking dark figures that could only be ravens.

On the side of the old derelict White Horse Tavern, where Hob had spent a good chunk of his youth faffing about with his mates, a white figure leaping against emerald green, rampaging, like it had escaped it’s hill in Uffington and didn’t plan on being caught again.

The talent was obvious…but that wasn’t all it was. Hob remembered reading a line somewhere—it’s not what a horse looks like, it’s what a horse IS. It’s what they all were, these weird works of art, weren’t they? Things distilled down to the essence. Yes, the artwork was arresting. Yes, the man who made it was just as striking. But Hob couldn’t explain the feeling that there was something there beyond what he was seeing, like a magic eye painting with a third hidden layer, and just as frustrating.

Or maybe month and a half into his sabbatical from what he jokingly referred to as his ‘side hustle’ was long enough for his brain to be going a little stir-crazy.

Then one morning, it happened again.

“Woah,” Matthew said. “That sure is…something.”

They stood staring at the new mural spanning the Inn’s northern wall. Radiating tongues of yellow and orange emerging from a peculiar dark background. The wall was smooth here, and the image had less of the feel of stained-glass and instead was a tumult of swirling line and color.

“I can’t tell if this means you shouldn’t take any more flirting advice from me, or my flirting advice is 100% on point.”

Hob slanted him a look. “I didn’t take any flirting advice from you, if it makes you feel better,” he said.

“That’s probably your best bet, actually.”

“Even if I had, I don’t think he’d threaten to burn down the place because I used the worlds worst pickup line on him.” Hob stepped up to the wall, reaching up to trace the shape of the image carefully without touching the easily-smeared strokes. “Look, here. The way the light curves here…the mantle. It’s a—a hearth, a fireplace. Like the one back in the old White Horse. See?”

“Oh,” Matthew said. “Huh.”

This strange offering was on a side of the building hidden mostly from public view, between the glorified storage crate they called Dar’s Gardening Shed and a stacked pile of unused planters. He didn’t think there’d be any gawkers this time, Hob himself had only happened upon it that morning by chance. Of course, Dream seemed to favor out-of-the-way locations, were there were swaths of empty wall and not many observers around to interfere. But this felt different. This felt…personal.

As Matthew lifted his phone to snap a shot, Hob said, “Hey. Uh. Maybe don’t post this one.”

“What?” he squawked. “It’s free advertising, dude. Why not?” At Matthews perplexed look, Hob could only shrug.

He didn’t have to wait long for it to click “Oooohhh. I see.”

“Matt.”

“Aww.” Matthew followed him back around the front of the building and through the main entrance. For all he looked broad and soft-edged, once he latched his brain on something, he was relentless. It was like being pecked to death by ducks. Pecked to death by something, anyway. “Oh come on, man, it’s adorable.”

“Matthew, zip it.” Hob ducked past the bar, hoping he could make a quick exit into the kitchen. This wasn’t a conversation they could have out here, not if he wanted his dignity intact. Any moment now—

“Not that I’m not a fan of anyone telling Matt to zip it, but why are we telling Matt to zip it this time in particular?”

Hob sighed. Too late, he was doomed.

Dar’s russet head poked through the kitchen doors, followed by the rest of her, busily tying on an apron. They’d just opened for the day and only a few regulars had so far trickled in, at least, which meant there would be minimal witnesses to what he was about to endure.

“Our resident mysterious artist left him a token of affection on the wall in the alley and he wants to keep it all to himself.”

“Ooh!” Dar said brightly. “Tall Dark and Spooky strikes again!?” Matthew handed her his phone where the photo of the yellow and gold flames swirled in miniature. She gave a little whistle. “Oh my!”

Hob dragged a hand over his face. “It’s not a token of affection.”

“Wanna bet?” Matthew pulled out his wallet and waggled it. “Bet you ten bucks. Pounds. Whatever. Shit. What country am I in?”

“—and he’s not our mysterious artist,” Hob continued, undeterred.

“He’s decorating your pub and he likes my tea,” Dar said decisively. “That means he’s ours. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

“Actually I’m pretty sure most of the time you do.”

Hob wondered if noon really was too early to start drinking.

“I’m sure he’d be fine with the attention,” Matthew said, “considering that he’s dropping this stuff all over town.”

“No one knows anything about this dude, Matt,” Hob argued. But. You do, a little voice whispered in the back of his mind. You know how he likes his tea, you know his hands look cold, you know his eyes are the bluest thing you’ve ever seen— Hob shook it off and plucked the phone from Dar’s hand, closing the screen and poking it back into the front pocket of Matthew’s shirt. “You didn’t see the look he gave me last time he was here. Maybe he doesn’t actually want any kind of attention at all.”

“Well,” Dar said, flipping a dishtowel over one shoulder. “I can guess at least one type of attention he wants.” She looked past Hob and jutted her chin towards the door. Slowly, trying to be nonchalant and failing, Hob turned to glance behind him.

…you know his eyes are the bluest thing you’ve ever seen and he keeps looking at you with them…

Dream edged in through the door of the pub, cautiously, and headed straight for his usual table. He moved, Hob thought, as though the space around him was packed with rickety shelves covered in teacups. Slow and precise. Or, as Matthew would say, like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. As soon as his eyes met Hob’s he glanced quickly away and busied himself with pulling the ever-present sketch book from his satchel.

“WELP I should be—“

“Oh look, I’m just gonna head—“

Hob watched in resigned amusement as Matthew and Dar both suddenly discovered they had somewhere else to be and nearly ran into each other trying to get there. He sighed, and set about making a cup of tea.

He didn’t know what possessed him, this time, to make a second. Or to sit down, easy as you please in the chair across from his stranger, as though they had a standing date. Maybe a little of his old confidence was coming back from wherever it had been banished to over this past exceptionally shitty year.

Dream, who had been very studiously ignoring him for the last five minutes, actually gave a startled jump when a mug appeared in front of him, followed by a whole other human. He watched Hob with an expression of guarded surprise as he settled into his seat, cleared his throat, and extended a hand across the table. “Robert Gadling. I, er, hope you don’t mind me being wildly presumptuous.” To his delight, Dream reached out, slowly as though he was expecting to be bitten, and met his hand. His grip was firm, but cold. Hob resisted the sudden fierce urge to take his hands and wrap them around the mug of tea he’d just set down.

“I don’t mind, Mr. Gadling. I. Was.” He looked down at the blank page open in front of him, seemingly at a loss for words.

“I’m sorry for interrupting you,” Hob said. “I just wanted to come over and thank you, I suppose.”

Dreams eyebrows crept up. “Thank me?”

“For the—“ Hob gestured over Dream’s shoulder. “Artwork. It’s remarkable, really.”

Dream opened his mouth to speak, closed it. Tried again. “You don’t mind,” he finally stated, not quite a question.

Hob huffed a laugh. “Do I—? No I don’t mind at all. It’s brilliant. I needed something to brighten up this bastard of a winter and you’ve done a spectacular job of it.” Dream glanced away with what appeared to be a blush coloring his worryingly pale face. “I just had one question, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“No. Please.”

“Why us?”

Dreams head tipped questioningly to one side and Hob hastened on. “I wondered how you choose your…locations. There’s always some inspiration, isn’t there? Was just curious what it was about this old place that inspired you twice.”

Dream stared at him for a moment, a parade of emotions flickering across his face so quickly, it was impossible to parse them. His eyes dropped back to the table. “I came by chance. I was out looking for. Inspiration, as you said, I suppose.” He spoke like someone who hadn’t in so long that he’d lost the knack, Hob thought. A crying shame, with that voice. “I saw you, and your employees. Laughing together. Often. I was…interested in your experience.”

“Friends,” Hob said. Dreams eyes flicked up to meet his briefly and he smiled. “I inherited the place. Been in the family for generations. Doesn’t really feel like mine, you know? It belongs to the community at this point, I’m just here to keep the paperwork in order. Knew I’d be taking it over one day, but if I didn’t have friends helping me out here who knew what they were doing I’d have made a complete mess of it.” Hob realized he was prattling on, as he was wont to do, and took a gulp of tea in an effort to rein in his mouth. “I’m sorry. You said you were interested in our…experience?”

Hob watched Dream move his fingertips over the surface of the blank sketchbook page, producing a gentle rhythmic susurrus. “Yes…I…have had precious few of my own. I find inspiration in watching other’s appreciation for life and this place…there’s so much life to appreciate here.” Oh. He was blushing. It was fucking delightful. “I hope you don’t find that. Intrusive.”

“Of course not,” he said. “It’s literally what we’re here for.”

Dream said, “You were very kind, Mr. Gadling. The last time we spoke. It was…it’s own kind of inspiration.”

Ohhhh dear. Oh good grief. He was in trouble. Hob had no idea what his face was doing. He couldn’t even imagine. He coughed to clear the sudden tightness in his throat. “Call me Hob,” he said. “Everyone else does. No one uses my proper name unless I’m in trouble for something.”

“Hob.” Dream said. His mouth curved into the smallest of smiles. Something in Hob’s gut gave a little delighted jump and warmth bloomed, down beneath his breastbone. “My name—is—“ He paused and swallowed. Hob could see him battling forward through something, some wall, and had the irrational urge to cheer for him. “Dream” he finally managed. “You may call me Dream.”

The warmth in Hob’s belly grew, filling his chest. Knowing the name was nothing compared to being gifted the name. “Well, Dream, you’re welcome to come back anytime. Avail yourself of the blank wall space.” Hob grinned, hopeful. “And the experience.”

Dream was silent for a moment, then took a quiet breath. “The tea is also very good.”

It startled a laugh out of Hob. “That’s Dar’s doing, she blends it. Grows some of the herbs herself out there in the spring. She’s got a terrific hangover remedy if you ever need it.”

“I don’t often drink alcohol but I will keep that in mind.”

From the corner of his eye, Hob had noticed the steady motion of Dream’s fingers against the paper turning jerky and irregular. Now he’d abandoned it altogether in favor of twisting them together over and over. His shoulders were tensing, rounding a bit. Ah. It was time, Hob thought, to let him experience his inspiration from afar. But they’d made a start. He thought it was a good start.

Hob picked up his half-drunk mug and lifted it in a little salute. “Right then, I’ll…just leave you to the—the creative processes.”

Dream wrapped his hands around the mug in front of him, just as Hob had imagined, though without his own curved over top of them. “Until next time, then.” And there it was again, that faint smile.

Hob beat a retreat back to his flat. He was only halfway up the stairs when his phone began buzzing its way out of his pocket. Dar, as expected.

Okay we want the story. Spill!

Goddammit. I think I owe Matt a tenner

Told you

…………………..

Next time came later that week, when Dream appeared with his sketchbook and awkward smile and absurdly sexy voice, which Hob coaxed out of him for ten whole minutes before it was obvious he needed a break from human interaction. Hob gathered his small victories where he could.

The warm feeling in his gut, it stayed with him. It was gentle, soothing, some invisible softness blanketing all the rough-edged hurts he’d collected over the past year. It was…striking.

Which was why it was so profoundly obvious to him the moment it was gone.

The day started off wrong-footed in a dozen small and frustrating ways. It was one of those bloody wretched freezing winter days, devoid of snow or any kind of charm, with a biting wind that seemed hell-bent on causing as much trouble as possible. The Inn was busy with customers who mostly just seemed fed up with the outdoors and wanted to forget it existed for awhile.

Hob was helping out behind the bar, pulling orders for a surprisingly rowdy pre-dinner crowd and keeping an eye on one customer in particular—red sweater, surly expression, toeing Matthew’s cut-off line for acceptable drunkenness. He just caught Dream stepping in, huddled in a coat that didn’t look near heavy enough and looking even more like a frozen scarecrow than usual. Quickly he threw together Dream’s usual order, with the addition of a large muffin on a plate, and hurried over. “My friend, hello. I have a job for you today.”

Dream’s brows lifted slightly as Hob set it all down in front of him. “A job involving…muffins?”

Hob grinned. “We started bringing things in from that new bakery down the street, Gilbert’s, maybe help give them a boost. Matthew’s idea.” He nudged the muffin forward and grinned. “Taste test for me, give me a report later.”

Dream opened his mouth, but a crash and raised voices in the direction of the bar drowned out whatever it was he was about to say. Hob looked over his shoulder and swore. “Excuse me, I’ll be back.”

It was Anita, a friend of Dar’s, only two weeks on the job. She stood frozen in the middle of a circle of broken glass from a dropped tray and bystanders who were half out of their seats with the look of folks obviously ready to start throwing punches but unsure how to go about it. The man in the red sweater had one hand locked around her wrist and what could only be described as a leer on his face.

Coming up on them, Hob heard her furious “…I said shove off.”

Red Sweater slurred, “I see you talkin’ but ‘m not hearing anything worth listenin to, yet.”

“Oooh, bad idea mate,” she said. And then Hob’s hand was coming down on his forearm, fingers digging, and he released her with a pained shout.

“Out. Now.,” Hob said.

“Fuck you arsehole, what, you own the place?”

“Actually, yeah,” Matthew said, stepping up to Anita and gently pulling her out of range.

“He does.”

Hob leaned in close and growled, “It’s not that loud in here, I know you heard me.” He shifted his grip to grab a handful of red wool at the back of the man’s neck and pulled. “You can leave now, or I can walk into the back and just let the regulars decide how to sort you out.”

The man wrenched himself out of Hob’s grasp and honked a few more drunken obscenities around at no one in particular grabbing his coat and staggering off. Hob watched him go, resisting the urge to fling him bodily through the door. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Dream, his head bent over his sketchbook, pencil moving intently.

It was pure dumb luck that he saw what followed, it happened so quickly.

The man was stalking unsteadily towards the exit, which took him directly past Dream’s table. As he neared it, Dream looked up and made the most peculiar gesture with his hand—Hob nearly missed it—as though he were lifting something from the table in front of him and flicking it away.

The banana peel hit the floor just as Red Sweater came parallel with Dream’s table. His shoe hit the peel, and in true slapstick fashion, his foot shot out from under him and he landed flat on his arse.

A wave of snickering passed through the crowd. Someone in the back hooted, “OH SMOOTH.”

Red Sweater scrambled to his feet, gave the room in general the finger, and slapped his way out the doors. The usual buzz of the Inn resumed as everyone went back to their conversations. As though an absolutely impossible thing had not just occurred right in front of them.

“What a dick,” Matthew said, appearing at Hob’s side with a broom. “Hey, you okay, boss?”

“What? I— yeah.” Hob shook his head. Nodded his head. Dragged his fingers through his hair. “Is Nita okay?”

“She’ll be okay, I think, she’s taking a break. You sure you are? Because you look like someone just slapped you with a fish. Hey! You know, there’s a word for that? It’s—“

“Hold that thought, Matt,” Hob said, reaching out to pat him absently on the shoulder. Feeling cold prickling across his skin, he made his way over to Dream’s table.

The table was empty. The tea sat untouched. The muffin was missing. Dream was gone.

Hob bent and picked up the banana peel, staring at the thing dangling limply in his hand. It was. A banana peel. Slightly squashed from being tread on. He didn’t know exactly what he’d expected, but that’s what he had. Feeling slow and stupid, he looked down at his feet and there on the floor—a steak of yellow, like chalk ground across the wood.

“What the hell?” he muttered.

Standing there by the door, he felt the cold rushing in, chilling him for the first time in what seemed like days.

Suddenly he was moving, ducking into the kitchen and through the back employee door. Turning the corner, he skirted around the odds and ends that littered the narrow space and pulled back to look at the wall where the orange flames had swirled.

They were…gone.

“What the bloody hell?”

The piece was still there, mostly, a little worse for wear. Hob could see the framing background details, but the flames themselves were gone. Instead there was nothing but empty space, clean bare wall, not even traces of clinging pigment left behind.

The wind blew sharply down the alley, and Hob shivered.

[friendshipgirl]

Brain With The Zane

In honor of Season 3 coming next week, I wanted to write this. This is based off of my favorite episodes of The Amazing World Of Gumball, The Goons. Hope you like it!

————————————————————————

( It was a sunny day in the winter air of February and the Warners were playing 'Butt Puppets' )

Wakko: ( mocking Ralph ) Duh... What do I do again?

Dot: ( mocking Nora ) YOU IMBECILES!

Yakko: ( mocking Scratchnsniff ) But I am the scientist! How could I be an imbecile!?

Dot: ( mocking Nora ) I can give a million good reasons why you are not an imbecile, but none of them have anything to do with being smart! You need to be clever as well as good looking so that people will take notice of you, which is just your natural talent!

( the three Warners laugh their heads off. As they played, Brain looked over from his blueprints and sighs sadly )

Pinky: Zort. What’s the matter Brain?

Brain: Pinky... I feel like I don’t belong in Animaniacs... like I’m not really zany enough. I feel like... I feel like I should be doing more. I mean, look at those kids. They aren't even half as smart as me... but they seem to have an easier life. It’s almost like taking over the world would feel much more of an innocent thing. And yet... when it comes to it... I just feel like I really am the main villain.

Pinky: Oh, Pish-Posh. You are the most innocent guy I know. And besides, you are as zany as those kids.

Dot: ( mocking Nora ) What do you know about being on security!?

Wakko: ( mocking Ralph ) Duuuuuuuuh... Doughnuts for breakfast?

( the Warner kids laugh hysterically as Yakko hits his butt on the table )

Pinky: Uh... Almost.

Brain: Hey... I've been thinking... Why doesn't anyone like me?

Pinky: We all love you, Brain. You're a natural born leader.

Brain: No... I mean why is everyone else afraid of me? The Warners are always laughing and joking around with each other... why is everyone just ignoring me? I just feel like my disires to take over the world has something to do with it. If only I could be zany to the max like those kids, then maybe things wouldn't hurt so much. Maybe I'd make less enemies. Maybe I wouldn't get so nervous all the time. Maybe... Maybe... Maybe...

Pinky: Why don’t you go ask those kids for advice?

Brain: Yes! That’s perfect Pinky! Those kids always give best advice! I’m gonna go talk to them right now. ( they go up to the kids ) Uh, kids, can I speak to you for a sec?

Wakko: [Flicks fingers and points to his bottom] My eyes are up here.

Brain: How come you kids never ask me to play with you?

Wakko: Well, we thought you liked those science-y stuff.

Brain: Yeah, being smart is okay, but i'd like to join you and be zany for a change, just for a while.

Yakko: For a while, huh?

Dot: I think we should give him a chance.

Wakko: Okay then.

Pinky: Yay!

————————————

( later, they were outside in the schoolyard )

Wakko: Now, the first thing about being zany is that sometimes zanyness is just plain silly... You just need to let yourself enjoy it for a while.

Brain: How come?

Wakko: Because zanyness is fun. It's playful, funny, and it makes us happy.

Brain: Huh. Never would have guessed that. But how would you kids do it?

Yakko: We have this game called 'Because I am the king'.

Pinky: What’s that?

Yakko: Well, I'm the king, and you have to do what I say.

Wakko and Dot: Yes sir, Mr. King, sir!

Yakko: Now Dot, go get the sugariest thing you can find in the school.

Dot: Yes sir, Mr. King, sir! ( runs into the school house )

Brain: Is that nessisary?

Yakko: It absolutely is! I am the king!

Brain: Okay, but... why?

( Dot comes back with a huge chunk of chocolate )

Dot: Mr. King sir, I found a huge piece of chocolate.

Yakko: Is it milk?

Dot: Yes sir, crunchy on the outside and chewy on the inside. Just the way you like it, your highness!

Yakko: Good job, sister! This shall be our flag, and in Zane Land, what's the motto?

Wakko and Dot: STUFF IT IN OUR BODIES TILL THEY MAKE OUR INSIDES ROT!

( they all took a bite, and after one taste, they get the Sugar Rush and started dancing around wildly, leaving Brain confused )

Brain: Okay... I’m convinced...

————————————

( later, they were in the arcade )

Wakko: Now if you’re gonna be zany, you’re gonna have to play big and win big. ( hands Brain some tokens ) Now here are some tokens. And now... ( puts a token into the Whack-A-Mole game ) Watch and learn. Go big or go home! ( they play the machine) GO WILD! ( smashes the mole with not only his mallet, but also his feet, getting tons of tickets ) HAHA! Take that! Now you’ve got a thousand tickets for a big prize!

Dot: You’re such a showoff, Wakko.

Wakko: Follow me guys! ( they go to the prizes and Wakko chooses a huge pizza plush with sunglasses ) Yeah baby!

Brain: Wow...

————————————

( later, they were at a theme park )

Dot: Now for the final stage of zane: good times. Now the theme park is full of exciting rides that can... well... excite you a lot. I bet the roller coasters are awesome too! I’ll show you the best ride there is. ( points to it ) The Gravitron! Wish me luck guys! ( goes in )

Wakko: Go get em Dot!

( the doors close and the saucer spins very fast. Inside, we can hear Dot screaming with excitement along with other riders. Soon, they stop spinning. When it stops, we can see them jumping all around excitedly. As Dot got off, she was very dizzy )

Dot: YEAH! That was AWESOME!!! That felt LIKE FLYING! I can’t wait to tell mommy about this ride next week!

Brain: Huh.

————————————

( scene changes to inside the tower where Brain looks all hopeless )

Yakko: Look, Brain, it's not that hard! All you need to do is think zany.

Brain: I try.

Yakko: Then why are you so down today? Did your take-over-the-world thing slip your mind?

Brain: Don't bring it up. Ugh! This isn’t working! How can being zany be so difficult!?

Yakko: Come on, Brain! It’ll all fall into place soon enough. Remember all the fun times we had in Animaniacs? There wasn’t any bad stuff, right?

Brain: Except my failed attempts to take over the world! Being zany to the max is so complicated! ( sighs as he hid his head in dispair... until it hit him ) Wait a minute... THAT'S IT! That’s what being zany to the max is! Being complicated! For example, before Pinky and I were spliced, Pinky had an usual sense of pure energy, while I had an usual large head and a strong negative emotion. Which means we were born different from other mice, meaning we’re complicated! Yes! That’s it! I know how to be zany!

Wakko: Well, that’s great!

Pinky: YAY!!!

( just then, Lauren comes in )

Lauren: Who wants to play Fruitball!?

Brain: [Jumping] I do! I do!

Lauren: Really? [Whispers] I thought he liked puzzles.

Pinky: Not anymore.

Brain: I'm now fluent in the beautiful art of zaniness.

Lauren: Okay then. He's in. BATTER UP!

( they began to throw fruit at Lauren and she hits all of the fruit, making the bits fly everywhere. Everyone laughed their heads off as they threw fruit in front of Lauren as she hits it with her baseball bat. She smiles at all of them as they continued to laugh. )

Brain: Yes! Zany to the max!

—————————————

( they spend the rest of the day doing things that made them feel good. As the played Because I Am The King in the school yard, Yakko ordered them to get another chocolate chunk and after one bite, they once again go absolutely crazy. In the arcade, Brain has won the most tickets from the Whack-A-Mole game and got himself a balloon king's crown that was way too big, but didn’t mind. At the fair, they were all on the Gravitron and went on over and over again until they got really dizzy, laughing their heads off. It wasn’t long before night falls and the mice return to the lab )

Brain: Whew... thanks kids. I had a great day.

Yakko: Goodnight Brainy Boy, PinkDaddy. Tomorrow it’s all about us now.

( the lights shut off and the kids return home )

————————————

( Scene changes to the next day where Natsumi is searching for the kids )

Natsumi: Yakko! Wakko? Dot? Where did you go? It's time for breakfast! Kids?

( she finds Brain and Pinky playing with the kids outside )

Natsumi: There you are. What are you doing?

Yakko: Toe wrestling. ( deep voice ) This little Piggie's going down!

Brain: ( deep voice ) I'm gonna toe nail you to the floor!

Pinky: ( as referee ) I want a good clean fight you two!

Wakko: BOOO!

Dot: You stink!

( the five laugh their heads off )

Natsumi: ( laughs ) Okay, come on you three, pause your game and let’s get breakfast. You’re bacon is getting cold.

Wakko: BACON!

( the Warner kids got up and head back into the house. However, Brain and Pinky couldn’t stop laughing )

Natsumi: Well, someone is energetic again today.

Brain: ( laughs ) Are you kidding!? I never felt this good in my life, being zany to the max! ( makes dumb faces energeticly ) Those grumpy smartsy days are SO far behind me! At least for now. I still got a world to take over, but being zany? I love it!

Natsumi: Just don’t take it too seriously, being zany can come at a cost. Same goes for my kids.

Brain: Don’t worry Natsumi. All we need is to get along with those kids. We’re a team you know.

Natsumi: Thanks Brain. I needed to hear that. ( heads into the tower )

Brain: ( laughs )

Pinky: Gee Brain, you really feel better after getting a little zane in ya. Narf!

Brain: Never been better Pinky! Whoo!

————————————

( later, they were at PAI playing 'Because I Am The King' with Brain having the king role this time )

Brain: And as your future ruler, take one bite and remember the motto Pinky!

Pinky: STUFF IT IN OUR BODIES TILL IT MAKES OUR INSIDES ROT!

( they take a bite of of their chocolate chunk and get an instant sugar rush. Dispite of Brain's new found zaniness, Natsumi couldn’t help but to show some concern )

Lauren: What’s wrong Natsumi?

Natsumi: I’m a little worried about Brain. After yesterday, he seems to have taken things a bit harder than normal.

Lauren: Oh trust me, Natsumi. Brain is always taking things harder than normal. He has his moments. But don’t worry. If anything, he might even turn out to be more zany than he ever realized. After all, it’s not on camera, right?

Natsumi: Hahaha. I guess you're right. Still, as much as my kids get in huge trouble because of it, I think the two mice will too.

Lauren: Hey, we don’t know the crazy crap Brain and Pinky are doing. Sometimes we don’t wanna know. And besides, they seem pretty happy.

( Brain screams excitedly as he planted his head in paint and then onto a piece of paper, creating a splat of his face on it )

Natsumi: True, I’ve never seen him smiling like that before. I’m just worried someone will—

Lauren: Nah, don't worry. How is someone gonna notice? It’s not like they could just do something stupid to get him to be his 'proper' toon in less than one second.

Natsumi: ( laughs ) That’s true.

( Unknown to them, Nora was listening to them the whole time, looking pretty teed off )

————————————

( later after Lauren's therapy appointment, there were a group of familiar people in the park, including Brain, Nora Wakko, Yakko, Dot, Pinky, Lauren, Keroro, Tamama, Joy, Jessie, SpongeBob, Patrick, Unikitty, Mei, Abby, Thomas, Percy, Barley, Slappy, and Skippy )

Brain: Okay, wait. What is this now Nora?

Nora: You're here to race. As you can see, I've gathered the most energetic people in town.

Keroro: Word.

Nora: Everyone has to wear a blindfold and run as fast as you can. The person who gets the furthest, is officially the zaniest of Animaniacs and beyond. Skippy, you'll be the referee.

Skippy: Okay guys, I want a good clean race! Anyone opening their eyes is disqualified. [Everyone puts on their blindfolds] On your marks, get set, one for the money, two for the show, three for the applause, and four to, GO! [Everyone starts running] Oh! [Puts on his sweatband for a blindfold] No one can't resist the call of zaniness! [Starts running]

( everyone laughs and cheers as they ran across the park. It was still hard to see since they had blindfolds on )

Nora: You may be zany, but you’re not endangering the Apiverse!

Brain: What do you mean endanger!?

( everyone continues to run around laughing and screaming )

Jessie: Yeehaw!

Pinky: NARF! I’m winning! Am I winning!?

SpongeBob: I can’t see anything!

Abby: Whose the zaniest!? Whose the zaniest!? Whose the zaniest!? Whose the zaniest!?

Percy: My legs hurt! Is anyone else’s legs hurting!?

SpongeBob: Mine hurts! I’m getting tired!

Thomas: My feet hurt! I can’t run anymore!

Nora: [laughs] That’s because you’re losing!

Slappy: Who says I’m losing!?

Abby: Whose the zaniest!? Whose the zaniest!? Whose the zaniest!? Whose the zaniest!? Whose the zaniest!?

Keroro​​​​: I'm winning, I'm winning! [Accidentally grabs some balloons and floats away] I'M NOT WINNING! [falls into a garden of thorns]

[Tamama falls into a pit as Jessie gets tangled up in wires of vine. Percy and Thomas bump into each other and both fall into a lake where ducks attack them. SpongeBob runs through a barbed wire, and is sliced into pieces]

SpongeBob: I'm a banana split! [Laughs, then slowly stops] It hurts.

[Skippy runs into a dog park and gets attacked by vicious bulldogs. Slappy runs into a tree and gets hit in the head with acorns, hurting her. Patrick was laughing before he bumps into a electric wire fence, shocking him.]

Abby: Whose the zaniest!? Whose the zaniest!? Whose the zaniest!? [Bumps into branch and falls down] I'm Ok.

[Lauren jumps on Abby and continues running]

Mei: Yeah! I’m killing it! ( laughs until she trips and falls down the hill, scraping herself all over the place ) Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!

( Barley laughs as he keeps running into trees until eventually, he gets all hurt and dizzy. Unikitty was running but the trips and tumbles until she smacks into ducks, who angrily attack her. Joy runs under the bridge and gets attacked by a ton of angry crocodiles. Back with Nora and the other remaining racers )

Nora: You think season 3 will allow you to be like this!?

Pinky: Of course! It gives you lots of cool powers that nobody else has!

Brain: I know we probably can’t be like this in season 3! I’m not trying to replace anybody! But if I can have a little fun with the characters in the episodes and have a blast doing it, why shouldn’t I? Besides, no one can be zanier than you kids!

( Wakko stops in his tracks and so did Brain )

Wakko: You... You really think so?

Brain: Of corse! You are a bunch of awesome people. I can’t imagine myself without any of you.

Nora: That was... actually a nice thing to say. I don’t think I’ve heard it from anyone else before.

Dot: Well, at least somebody believes in us.

Wakko: Aw, give us a hug Brainy Boy!

( the five laughed as they group hugged. Suddenly, Nora screams when she was hit by a car as it was revealed that they were on the street )

Brain: Nora!?

( Brain takes off his blindfold and they were suddenly hit by the busy traffic )

————————————

( later in the hospital, the participants were in bed and hurt. Nora laid sleeping soundlessly until Joy hits her )

Nora: OW! Wha— What was that for!?

Joy: That’s for getting us in the hospital!

Nora: Hey, sorry, I was only trying to protect the Apiverse.

Mei: Well now my mom flipped out of me for doing something stupid and getting hurt!

Abby: I guess those shoulder pads didn’t do anything.

Keroro: Word.

Nora: ( sighs ) Okay, that was the dumbest thing I ever could do, ( to Brain ) but as for you young man, you know that is hazardous if not treated carefully.

Brain: ( sighs ) Yeah, Nora... you know kids, your mother was right. I should’ve been more careful in being zany. I just wanted to feel like I belong in Animaniacs before the final season. But I guess I’ll have to watch my Zane from now on... because being zany can be painful! ( sighs ) What am I gonna do when I get better...?

Dot: ( whispers in his ear )

Brain: Same thing I do with Pinky and Daniel? Oh yeah! TRY TO TAKE THE WORLD! ( feels his cast crack ) Ow! Maybe not tonight...

Keroro: Oh, how Lauren would love to hear that to make her happy. After all we went through.

Brain: Wait a sec! Where IS Lauren!?

( In the park, Lauren eventually won the race because she was still at it, running around a tree )

Lauren: ( laughing ) Did I win yet!? Did I win yet!? Did I win yet!? Did I win yet!? Did I win yet!? Did I—!? ( bumps into the tree and falls on her back ) Ow...

THE END

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Sensate Focus

A bitch takes one Human Sexuality class and gets stuck on the fucking Sensate Focus bullshit then has to write a fic about it. Its me. I’m the bitch. 😂

Warnings: Geralt is self depriciating-whats new, insecure jask, insecure geralt, overwhelmed by touch, big vulnerability, they’re in couple’s therapy, so like, its a rocky relationship, we got some connection building and cuteness in the end too, its not all bad, mentions of sex, nudity but like not in a smutty way, for once I dont think i used a single swear word? I had big feels while writing it i really hope they translated lmao.

I am but a humble psych major, not an actual therapist, so plz don’t come at me if shit isn’t accurate. I tried my best.

Also this is under a cut for a reason, not just length. If you are easily triggered by touch starved type fics this is not for you. It gets emotionally heavy plz read with caution.  

____________________________

“You want us to what?” 

“Come on, Geralt. You said you’d try.”

“I- no. Just- why? What’s the point?”

Both Geralt and Jaskier turned to their therapist, each equally confused and a little scared. 

The tiny woman kept her face completely impassive and answered his question, “The exercise helps people get out of their heads and reacquaint themselves with, not only being open with their partner, but also slowing down and enjoying touch for touch sake. Without being so focused on the end goal of sex or pleasing a partner, people can begin to refocus on the connection attachment theorists claim is the underlying motivation for sex without reproduction in the first place.”

Geralt swallowed hard. This was for him and he knew it. He’d said it himself, he was fucking terrified of failure and rejection and that absolutely extended to Jaskier. His husband. Of five years. Who’d been with him for ten. Logically it made no fucking sense, but the woman with the PhD had told him this was rather normal for a child of divorce as if he’d said he didn’t like horseradish sauce. He didn’t see how being scared of your spouse secretly hating you was normal in the slightest. 

He glanced over at Jaskier who sat at the other end of the black leather sofa picking at his nails. When they’d gotten married they’d laze around all day just holding each other and talking. It was safe and sweet and Geralt couldn’t for the life of him remember how it was tainted.

“Alright,” he grunted, “What’re the rules again?”

-

The next afternoon they’d carved out an hour and a half with no distractions, no phones, not even any music to Jaskier’s dismay. Apparently that was against the ‘guidelines - not rules’. 

They stood in their bedroom, lights dimmed and curtains drawn, as much for the ambiance as for the privacy. Geralt felt his stomach flip flop as he stepped out of his clothes, feeling a bit ridiculous. It’s not as if this was the first time they’d seen each other naked, but it was the first time they were to spend ‘as much time as necessary’ -whatever that meant- touching each other, one at a time. 

Jaskier dropped his clothes in the laundry bin and stood with his arms crossed, almost like he was hiding, “Right. So… Do you want to go first? Maybe go over things again?”

“Do you want to go first?” Geralt asked, immediately drawing his bottom lip between his teeth to gnaw at the peeling skin. 

“I just want to know why you look so scared, to be honest,” Jaskier breathed. 

Geralt took a deep breath, reminding himself that he wasn’t the only one being vulnerable here, “Not scared. Just nervous.”

“Rules then?”

Geralt nodded, “No talking. No, uh, erogenous zones. No sex. No kissing. If you don’t like something or it’s a big turn on or it tickles, move the other person’s hand.” the weight in his chest lessened a little bit, this really was simple. Just touching Jask. Something he’d done a million times. Hell he might not even get anything out of it. He didn’t need to be so damned worried about things going wrong. 

“If you get overwhelmed think about temperature and texture and how it feels. Don’t think about what the other person is thinking or feeling. The only bit that matters is moving their hand,” Jaskier added, his posture relaxing ever so slightly as he rocked up on his toes and back down.

Geralt stepped a little closer, holding out his pinky finger, “We don’t stay still if we don’t like something.” He said it more to reassure Jaskier than anything. 

Jask hooked his pinky around Geralt’s and smiled, “No barreling through,” he agreed. 

“Can I, uhm… go first?” Geralt kept their pinkies hooked together as he let their hands hang between them. 

Jaskier looked surprised, but nodded fervently, “Of course!”

“Okay,” Geralt pulled his hand back and ran it through his hair before stepping a bit closer, hovering both of his hands over jaskier’s shoulders, “So I just-?”

Jaskier nodded and whispered, “No talking, love.” 

Geralt let out an amused huff, the irony of the words bringing a soft smile to his face. He took a deep breath in and slowly let it out as he placed his hands over Jaskier’s arms. 

Sensations. He could do this. He was doing this.

Jaskier’s arms were soft, both in texture and in feel, giving way to Geralt’s fingers ever so slightly when he squeezed. He trailed his hands down over Jaskier’s elbows, noting the patches of dry skin over the joints that Jask had been scandalized by in college. His forearms had more hair, but it was softer than Geralt’s, silky even, and nice to touch. Geralt trailed his fingers down Jaskier’s wrist and back up, watching as the little hairs stood on end but seemed to stick to the pads of his fingers as he moved past them. When he noticed the goosebumps he glanced up to Jaskier with mild panic in his eyes, worried he’d already fucked it up and made him uncomfortable. But his husband just nodded, a light smile on his lips. 

Temperature. Back to task.

Geralt picked up Jaskier’s hand, holding it in one of his as he skimmed his fingers over his knuckles and calluses. His palms were warmer than the back of his hand and it seemed every spot where his skin had built up from use was just a tad colder than the thinner skin next to it. 

He gently guided Jaskier’s hand back down and trailed his hand up his arm, ghosting his fingers over his collar bone. He thought about how much softer this skin was, and how it made the butterflies in his stomach go wild as he moved back and forth over the spot a few times. He liked the pleasant little pitfall of his stomach, not arousal but not unlike it, just a little higher in his abdomen and lighter. He moved his other hand to mirror his movement’s on Jaskier’s other shoulder, palms soon coming to rest over his chest almost on their own. 

Geralt was so aware of his hands they almost felt numb. It made him think of one of those motor skills brain maps where it showed how much of your brain was devoted to moving which part of your body. Those huge chunks devoted to his hands must have been screaming. 

Jaskier gasped as a bit of his chest hair got caught in Geralt’s ring as he swept his hands downward. Geralt gave him an apologetic look but just got a grin and slight shake of his head in return instead of the shock he expected. 

Geralt continued, moving his hands in slow circles over Jaskier’s abdomen and hips and flanks, marveling at the warmth he felt not only under his hands but spreading through his chest. He let his hands rest above Jaskier’s hips, just at the bottom of his ribs and watched as his hands slowly moved apart and back together in time with Jaskier’s breath. It looked like such a small movement, but when he closed his eyes he felt like he was throwing his arms wide open. He tried matching his breathing to Jaskier’s, but that was close to overwhelming, so he moved on, refocusing on the texture and thickness of his chest hair as he moved up to his neck. 

One of his hands stayed resting on Jaskier’s chest as his other brushed up the side of his neck with the backs of his fingers. Even with such light pressure he could feel the thick ropes of muscle and tendons under his skin. It was warmer over his pulse point and Geralt’s breath hitched when he felt the little thump of a heartbeat under his fingers. He closed his eyes for a moment, surprised to find himself taking a deep breath, not out of fear or frustration, but to sink into the feeling as much as he could. He counted the beats, making a note of how comforting the feeling was. The longer he held his fingers in place, the softer the beats became, until they leveled out to a soft and steady thrum. 

When Geralt opened his eyes the beats picked up, matching the strange look on Jaskier’s face. Geralt moved his hand over his jaw and back a few times. He could almost hear the ridges of his fingerprints catching on Jaskier’s stubble as he traced over his upper lip. 

He felt a soothing sense of familiarity when his fingers grazed along the outline of Jaskier’s lips. His body latched onto the feeling and he found himself starting to get watery eyes as he reacquainted himself with the thin pink skin. He remembered their first kiss and how much it scared him even though he craved it so completely. He remembered kissing Jaskier over and over and over when they’d finally said ‘i love you’ and dropped the casual pretense. He remembered their kiss at their wedding, soft, firm, and a little wet with happy tears. 

An annoying voice that sounded an awful lot like their therapist sounded off in his head, “This is what I was trying to tell you, asshat. Focus on the positive.” 

Geralt smiled despite the sharp tug behind his eyes that told him he might cry, and brushed his fingers up over the thin skin beneath Jaskier’s eyes, careful not to press hard enough to catch and pull at the blueish skin. He traced his eyebrows, the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones and hollows, his chin, and his cupid’s bow, all with that same surprisingly pleasant near-tears feeling in his chest. He watched Jaskier’s eyes watching him as he carded one hand through his hair. 

That was what did it, what made the tears start to dribble down his cheeks as his hands continued to gently comb through his husband’s hair. The look of wonder and relief he was met with was overwhelming. He felt a bit of guilt, sure. Guilt for letting things get as bad as they’d been, but he was overwhelmed by how much love he felt. It permeated his whole body and the air around him. He hadn’t even felt this in the beginning; this was a settled and sure feeling, not the frantic need he’d felt before. 

Geralt pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes, sending a fresh wave of tears over his cheeks as he brushed his hands over Jaskier’s back. He traced his spine, counted every rib, and outlined his shoulder blades with the tips of his fingers. 

Their fronts were pressed together, but technically it wasn’t against any rule, so neither of them moved back. Geralt’s hands moved to the dip in Jaskier’s hips, his thumbs brushing over the place where his skin creased when he sat and Jaskier wrapped his hands around his wrists. A warm puff of air washed over Geralt’s face as Jaskier breathed a small laugh and moved his hands up. Surprisingly enough, Geralt was only amused by being moved, filing the information away for later as he settled for measuring Jaskier’s breaths again, now leaning into the full body tingle he felt when they both exhaled. 

He wanted to stay right there for hours, but he suddenly wanted Jaskier to touch him. More than that, he wanted Jaskier to feel like him. He gave his sides a gentle squeeze as he straightened up and rocked back a bit, making the smallest bit of space between them.

“Switch,” he whispered, the soft sound coming out like crunching gravel in the charged silence. 

He let his hands fall to his sides as he opened his eyes, a little relieved to see he wasn’t the only one crying. 

Jaskier immediately reached up to cup Geralt’s cheeks and brush the tears away. It was odd, having to stay still when Jask was right there, when he could still feel the echoes of the sensations in his hands. But he stayed put, if for nothing else than the look of cautious excitement Jaskier was wearing. 

He wanted to tell him there was no need, that he would gladly spend the rest of the day standing in the dim light of their bedroom, silently taking turns softly caressing each other. But rules were rules.

Jaskier drew his hands a little closer together over his cheeks, making sure all the tears were smudged away with his thumbs as Geralt’s eyes fluttered shut. The warmth of his hands was soothing, especially when Jaskier slowly brushed his thumbs over Geralt’s eyelids. As Jaskier dragged his fingers over Geralt’s chin and brushed the backs of his fingers back up and over his cheeks, Geralt almost started to feel dizzy. He forced his eyes open and focused on watching Jaskier’s face. 

His tongue stuck out between his lips as his hands fluttered down his nose and to his lips. A wistful smile graced his features as he brushed over the chapped skin, pulling his bottom lip down just enough so when he let go it popped when it jumped back up to meet his top lip. Geralt tried not to smile, wanting him to do it again, but raised an eyebrow. Jaskier openly grinned and popped his lip a few more times before smoothing his thumb over it. He tucked some hair behind Geralt’s ear and cupped his hands around the base of his neck, gently pressing his thumbs into the tense muscles. 

A shiver ran down Geralt’s back as Jaskier brushed his hands out and over his shoulders, thumbing circles over the points where muscle just barely covered bone. Geralt watched his eyes, watched the little crows feet get deeper when he smiled and watched his brows lift up and together. 

It occurred to him then that Jaskier might have been just as lonely as he was, that the exuberant extrovert he’d married wanted this as badly as he did. It truly never crossed his mind until he saw it written plain as day on Jaskier’s face; he wasn’t the only one with insecurities in their relationship. 

Every bone in his body wanted to pick Jaskier up and crush him to his chest. The trails of goosebumps his fingers left over his skin made it even harder not to, but Jask was enjoying this. He’d even go so far as to say he was lost in it. Rules be damned, Geralt couldn’t take this away from him if he’d wanted to. 

When Jaskier’s hands ghosted over his navel he shivered and let his eyes flutter closed. If he wasn’t going to break and move he should at least lean into it.

However, being held without expectations, without needing, or even being allowed, to do or say anything in return was beginning to seem overwhelming. How had Jaskier just stood there and watched him? How could anyone just stand and constantly be told with the light brush of someone else’s knuckles over their cheek that they were desired and cherished? When the hands pressed to his chest told him over and over that he was loved, what kind of escape was there? 

One of Jaskier’s hands once again brushed his tears away and he leaned into it, lip trembling as he looked up at the ceiling trying to compose himself. Jaskier would have none of it, gently tilting his head down until their noses brushed and he was forced to look into his watery blue eyes. 

He needed this. Geralt was terrified but Jaskier’s expression spoke of a yearning that ran so deep even he probably couldn’t put a name to it. Geralt licked his lips and offered a watery smile, feeling warm relief when Jaskier smiled back and ran his hands down his arms to rest behind his elbows. He squeezed the meat behind his arms, the tops of his forearms, the tendons in his wrist, making his fingers involuntarily curl. Geralt didn’t move, he barely breathed, as Jaskier watched his own hands roam over Geralt’s like he’d never seen anything like it. 

When he stopped trying to run the sensation faded to a dull roar. Jaskier’s hands were warm and his breath across his skin was gentle. Geralt might even admit he felt a little bit worthy of the adoration in his husband’s eyes after a few minutes. 

Jaskier’s touches were light in some places, firm and grounding in others. Like when he circled his arms around Geralt and pressed his palms into the small of his back, resting his forehead where his collar bones met. Geralt had no idea how something so simple could make him feel so weak. He knew it wasn’t entirely true, but it felt like the only thing holding him up was Jaskier’s touch. When he rocked back, even if it was only an inch or so, Geralt had to fight not to follow him.

Jaskier rested his hands over his ribs, just above his elbows, and stared into his eyes. 

They’d agreed to say ‘end’ with their therapist. That’s what Geralt was waiting for. So when Jaskier whispered ‘enough’ and gave him a gentle squeeze it was all he could do to bite down on his lip and keep quiet. Of course he would say enough. The one word Geralt had struggled with from day one. Being enough always felt impossible, but he could begin to think of it as a bit more attainable standing in their dim bedroom without a sound in the world other than their breathing. 

He nodded and they both picked up their notepads and scribbled down the notes they were supposed to. Geralt’s was just a list of words but he didn’t care, he filled most of the page and chucked it on the bedside table before tugging on his sweats. 

When he looked up for Jaskier he found him staring at him, worry on his brow and pen hovering over what looked like a second nearly full page. 

“Do you, maybe want some tea while you write?”

He licked his lips and nodded, adjusting the blanket wrapped around his shoulders before going back to frantically scratching words onto his page. 

Geralt gently closed the door after him and took a deep shaky breath as he padded into their bright kitchen, running his hands through his hair. The kettle seemed to take forever with how fast his mind was racing, replaying every bit he could to lodge it in his memory. 

Jaskier was just closing his notebook and setting it on top of his laptop when he opened the door with his foot, careful not to spill any hot liquid on the carpet. 

“Thank you,” Jaskier whispered, taking his cup and sitting at the foot of the bed. 

Geralt joined him and draped an arm over his blanket wrapped shoulders, “Of course.”

They slurped at their mugs in silence until Geralt was able to take a full sip without scalding the roof of his mouth. 

Jaskier’s voice was soft as he spoke, the air from his words interrupting the steam drifting up from his mug, “Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm,” Geralt leaned in just a hair. 

“Why did you look up?” Jaskier rested his head on Geralt’s shoulder as he asked and it took Geralt a moment to remember he was supposed to answer.

“I…” he took a deep breath to pull his words together before he mis-stepped, “You stood still and watched me, and looked happy… and I wanted to do that for you… but I started crying again and I-hm. I didn’t want you to think I didn’t want to be there-here. Wherever.”

One of Jaskier’s hands drifted from his mug to Geralt’s thigh, “I was just worried.”

“Didn’t translate, huh?” Geralt asked, giving him a light squeeze. 

“Not quite,” Jaskier chirped, almost giggling. 

Geralt hummed and pressed a kiss to the top of Jaskier’s head, “I’m sorry.” 

“S’okay. Now I know.”

There were a few more moments of silence before Geralt chuckled, “I didn’t realize your hips were so ticklish.” 

Jaskier snorted, an attempt at sipping his tea absolutely aborted to save a spill, “I’ve never been ticklish, Geralt.”

Geralt set his tea on his knee and tilted Jaskier’s chin up to look at him, suddenly concerned, “What didn’t you like about me touching your hips?”

Jaskier’s goofy smile turned a little sly, “Absolutely nothing. In fact,” he started, taking both their half finished teas and setting them on the window sill before turning to envelop Geralt in the blanket with him, pulling him down onto the bed, “I liked it a bit too much.”

[lucy90712]

Wilbur soot- your new boyfriend

we- 2217

A/n I’m really like this one so hope you guys do too

~ Wilbur soot - Your New Boyfriend  (OFFICIAL VIDEO)

10,400,000 views

Wow. That's a hell of a lot of views. My friend Wilbur just realised his new song yesterday and it's doing so well I'm so proud of him, I know he worked really hard on this song and filming the music video which he roped me into helping with. I have listened to it about a million times that I know every chord off by heart even though I don't play music its just ingrained in my head now.

I felt like listening to it when I got up this morning while I brushed my teeth and washed my face so that's what I did. This time I really listened to the lyrics and I really took them in instead of it just becoming a blur and I had a realisation that may be really stupid.

Me and Wilbur have been friends since we were 17 when we went to college and had always kind of flirted with each other because thats just the type of friendship we had, a lot of people thought we were dating but we never officially moved past being friends even though at some points I wanted to. When we finished college we both went to different universities but they weren't far from  one another so we often used to see one another but of course life was different. By different I mean I got a boyfriend which meant that the flirting stopped and the connection between us kind of crumbled but we reconnected a few years later which brings us to pretty recently. Just a few months ago I broke up with the before mentioned boyfriend because he cheated on me and overall became not a great guy.

You see now I have put my brain to listening to lyrics I can't help but wonder even just a little bit if the song is about me. Now I know that sounds very narcissistic and self centred but the story just seems to match so well and yes the song is meant to be comical and satirical but there is something in my brain telling me that there is a slight real life influence there.

Now I'm really nervous because I'm going to Wilbur's place in a few hours and I don't know if I can just forget about this because of course it can be nothing and just a coincidence but that chance that it is something is really bugging me. Wilbur is definitely going to notice if I act weird which is what I'm really worried about because I don't want to have to talk about it.

Another predicament that I have now subjected myself to is the slight feelings I have for Wilbur which feels so wrong because it's not been that long since I broke up with my last boyfriend but I can't help it. Wilbur was there from the moment we broke up and helped me get over it and doing that while we rebuilt our friendship just made our connection grow deeper and give it a new meaning to me. It's not something new either just because if the closeness there was many times in the past that I had feeling for Wilbur but just never did anything about it because I always felt like he never felt the same. Wilbur had always been the first one to say that we weren't dating when people asked or suspected something.

I wanted to look nice for when I went to Wilbur's because most of the time especially recently he has seen me crying or just looking like a mess. I decided to wear my black acid wash mom jeans and a cute crop top that a friend made for me because she loves fashion and felt that I needed a new look after my breakup. To complete the look I even put on a little bit of makeup but not a whole lot because I have never been one to wear loads of makeup and I styled my hair which I may have cut since the last time I saw Wilbur because I felt the need to just get rid of some of it but it was still cute.

It got to 1:30 and I got my shoes on to begin my walk to Wilbur's place which isn't that bad once you get used to it which I am by now but I always have to be listening to something to stop the noise of the traffic driving me crazy. As usual my everyday playlist went on shuffle but of course it had to do me dirty by playing jubilee line which don't get me wrong is a great song and I love it  but right now I don't need to be reminded of the war going on in my brain in fact I'm trying to forget about it until I get there at least. My playlist really was being a bit of a bitch today because every few songs it would play one of Wilbur's songs just after I had forgotten about things from the last song.

By 2pm I was just down the road from Wilbur's house and my hands were starting to get a bit clammy from the nerves building in my body, despite this I had to go in because I did not walk all this way to back out and go all the way back home. I got to the door and rang the doorbell then waiting for a figure to appear and open it, this didn't take long so before I knew it Wilbur was right in front of me giving me a big bear hug which he is so good at.

He welcomed me in and dragged me up the stairs to his bedroom so that we don't annoy his roommates. Like always the two of us sat on the floor because we are just those types of people although it did start when we were in college and we used to do homework and revision together, those were the good old times when we had no issues in our friendship. He grabbed something from under his bed and put it in between the two of us, it was a monopoly board which is just so typical of Wilbur.

"Come on you can't tell me you don't want to play like we used to all the time" he said

"You're right I'm not going to say that so let's bring it on I may have practiced a few times so prepare to lose" I joked

He shook his head at me and we set up the game both prepared to try and absolutely destroy one another. This didn't go to plan because I quickly made some bad decisions which put me in a very bad place to the point that if I were to land on any square that Wilbur owned I would be out the game but I still had hope. I was right to have hope because the game quickly turned around because I made it past go without landing on any of Wilbur's squares however he had didn't have that luck and landed on pretty much every square of mine and having to give me a large chunk of his money. The game soon ended when Wilbur couldn't recover from the hit of the last round and quickly ran out of money and I became victorious.

"Yes I told you I'd been practicing" I said

"What is that the 4th time you've beat me out of all the times we played" Wilbur tormented

"Oh shut up and let me have this" I said

"Ok ok but next time I'm for sure going to beat you" he said

After that we just kind of laid down next to each other looking at the ceiling as it if were the sky Which really reminded me of one of my favourite memories that I have. One night after the both of us had finished our last exams at uni I went to meet Wilbur and we walked around London during the dead of night and then laid down on a grass patch to stare at the starts which were unusually visible for the city sky. Nothing particularly special happened just the thrill of being done with uni and galavanting around the city when it felt like we shouldn't be out made it so memorable.

I was quickly dragged out of my memory when something brushed against my hand and stayed in contact with my pinky finger, I tilted my head to see what was going on which would of been pretty obvious but Wilbur's hand was right next to mine with our pinky's overlapping. This made my heart start thumping and my forgotten thoughts from earlier come to the forefront of my brain yet again. It's the most ridiculous thing that I'm so caught up on it and too scared to say anything out of fear of ruining my reconciled friendship when I know that no matter what I say nothing will change between us because it hasn't before even when we kissed that time.

Flashback

The bottle stopped spinning with one end pointed at me and the other at Wilbur. Oh shit. This can't happen it really can't. What if this changes everything and things become awkward? I can't live without Wilbur I spend all my spare time with him and even time when I should be revising or doing homework.

I'm never going to forgive myself if I do this and it changes our friendship but at the same time I have to do it or that will make me look like a loser and will probably fuel the rumours that the two of us are secretly dating although doing it isn't going to help that much either. I could see the same dilemma going through Wilbur's mind but we gave each other a look and went for it.

The both of us leant in letting our lips meet gently to start with before some of the other guys pushed out heads closer together. I won't lie the kiss was nice and felt like along time coming really with the amount that the two of us harmlessly flirt but it also didn't feel like there was the right meaning behind it. You could tell that we were both worried about changing the friendship and so there was no real meaning behind the kiss.

End of flashback

Now that was a terrifying day. This felt different though there was no one willing us on and there has been no pressure on us to date for years now that it is just natural and not forced which made it feel all the more special. I decided to just go for it and if it goes wrong then oh well at least I tried and can never wonder what my life would be like if I'd of just followed my heart.

I laced our pinky's together fully making sure my grip was tight enough that Wilbur got the message which he responded to quickly by moving his hand out of mine for a split second before grabbing hold of my whole hand and lacing all of our fingers together. He squeezed my hand turning his head to look me directly in the eyes which made my neves spike for a second before I got control again and stared back at him. I couldn't help but let out a small nervous laugh which I noticed causes a small smile on Wilbur's face.

"You know your face is just so pretty" he said

"Is this you trying to say something? I questioned

"Maybe but it depends on if you want to hear it" he said

"I definitely want to hear it" I replied

"Well if it wasn't obvious by now I have some feeling for you and honestly I have on and off for ages but I get if its too soon" he said

"It's not too soon and in fact the timing couldn't be better" I said

We exchange no more words for the time being and instead sat up leaving into kiss each other for the second time in our lives but it was definitely different this time. This time there was true feelings behind it that weren't nerves they were true feelings of adoration and even maybe just a little bit of love but it's too soon to tell that yet. He needed no encourage this time to deepen the kiss instead he put all of his energy into it from the start to show how much he really meant what he was saying. The two of us pulled apart after what felt like an eternity but in reality it was no more than 20 seconds.

"Wow just wow" I said

"That about sums it up" Wilbur said

"I have to ask because its been bugging me is your new boyfriend about me?" I asked

"Yeah it is I'm surprised you didn't realise sooner how may time of you heard it" he joked

"But lets forget that can I be your new boyfriend?" He asked

"Of course you can but you might need to write a new song" I said

[votederpycausemufins]

I wonder what people think of the NSMP so far, and how they think of it at the end of the chapter, and just what people think in general

@petrichormeraki the hermit Tommy people and @helleborusangel the online friendo with great rambles!

“So, how are things with Grian?” Grifter looked up as someone sat at the table he was working at.

“Surprisingly well.” Grifter replied. “It took about a day to get him used to standard weapons again, which isn’t too bad. He’s still worried about respawning, which is an obvious fear. Oh, and I’m hoping he’ll be able to hang out with Flora today!”

“Oh, that sounds like a great idea. I know there aren’t many young hermits, so if he’s able to hang with anyone his age- hey maybe I should end lessons early.”

Grifter looked up at the other Listener. “End lessons early? You mean for just one, or both of the kids?”

The Listener shrugged. “Both obviously. Vee probably wants a break as much as their sister, so wouldn’t be fair to give one a break and not the other.”

“You’re not sending Vee to the NSMP, right?” Grifter asked, trying not to have any worry in his voice, and if there was, he quickly tried covering it up. “I mean, I haven’t gotten everything over there fixed. They’re all still used to how Nightmare ran it. And I haven’t gotten around one of the things he put in there.”

The Listener chuckled. “No! Of course not. If I could keep Astrid from wanting to visit, I would. I mean, it sounds like you’d like her to come over for Grian. I could try keeping her out if you want but-”

Grifter rolled his eyes. “Yeah, rebellious teen who’s also got magic. Been there, done that. Speaking of, how long have they been training?”

The Listener perked up at that. “Astrid’s been going for one year and twelve days, and yesterday was Vee’s mark for one year. I got each of them a present of course since it’s pretty much like a birthday and all.”

“Well then, if that’s the case, I think I have a little present for them as well. In the middle of everything yesterday, a Watcher was having a one year party.”

.

.

.

Though Grian found it easiest to learn and use a sword for pretty obvious reasons. Instead, he kept an axe out. Apparently it could be as powerful or even more dangerous than a sword to the point that a number of people used it as a preferred weapon. It was a bit heavy for him, but to be honest, all of the tools felt a bit heavy in his hands. Gym class didn’t really have the best setup for using stuff like this.

He set his axe down for a few moments to let his arms rest as he pulled out his communicator. Sense apparently needed to fix it up so it would work in this time or something. Seeing as how it was working and even looked upgraded, it looked like the man had succeeded. Grian checked his coordinates, moving it from side to side to figure out which way was which as the numbers changed in real time. He was pretty sure at this point he was very lost, since he was used to streets and maps and not open land and coordinates. The only real street was near the castle, and it didn’t even last that long until it turned into what was practically rubble.

While Grian knew he could just stay in the castle since rooms were offered, part of him wasn’t thrilled at the idea of having to be stuck with what would essentially be roommates again. Especially if he could live elsewhere without having to pay rent. He would have to build his own place and gather the materials for it himself, but he had been interested in architecture and was thinking about going to college for it, and it seemed like it was easier to get the stuff he would need here.

He found a nice small tree to start with and pushed leaves out of the way for a good place to start chopping. When he did, Grian was surprised to find his axe chopping through the wood like it was warm butter, taking a chunk out of it in two swings. After that, he nearly fell over in surprise when he realized the tree was still standing, but after getting back up and feeling the tree to make sure he wasn’t imagining things, Grian could feel a hint of magic there, keeping the tree floating in the air.

Not wanting to leave it there, Grian started to tear down the rest of the tree, glad to see that the leaves were falling on their own since he didn’t want to deal with them too. Since one tree had been easy enough, Grian started on another, and then another. He took breaks between every few trees, not used to the amount of work even if the axe made it easy. But he was too busy during those breaks to catch the fiery orange color darting about in the shadows.

As Grian began to chop down another tree, he was stopped again as he was tackled from the side. In a panic, he swung his axe wildly, managing to hit whatever was attacking him by the sounds they made, but couldn’t be completely sure because he had his eyes closed. Finally, something grabbed his axe and yanked it away, pinning his arms down before he could grab anything else.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now.” A voice hissed from above him, and Grian nervously opened his eyes. He immediately focused on the person’s ears, which were definitely not human, but he sighed as he realized they didn’t belong to a rabbit. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to amuse the hybrid as they let go of his one arm and instead pressed their forearm against his neck. “What are you? A hunter?!”

Grian quickly shook his head. He would say something, but talking was pretty hard when being choked. He saw a tree out of the corner of his eye and then looked back and forth between the tree and the hybrid, hoping they would understand what he meant. While it seemed like they didn’t, they at least eased up on his neck, letting him breathe better and speak. “I was just getting supplies.” He wheezed out, taking a break to catch his breath. “Grifter said-”

“Grifter?” The hybrid asked in surprise, then let Grian go for a moment before grabbing him again. “Wait, explain why you look so much like him. How do I know you’re not lying about him. Are you even on his good side?”

“We’re relat-” Was all Grian got out before the arm was against his neck again. “Right, sure you are. How come I haven’t heard of you before? I mean, I know my family pretty well.”

Grian wracked his brain for some way, any way to get this person to leave him alone. He at the very least had access to one hand, since the arm trapping it before was now on his neck, but he had no way of knowing if the person would understand him. He used his pointer finger to point to the side, then crossed his fingers, put his hands into a fist with his pinky out, then a fist with his thumb to the side, then finally put his thumb between his middle and ring fingers while it was in a fist. He repeated that a few times before the arm on his neck pulled back slightly

“Gry-an?” The hybrid asked, and Grian winced, but nodded, pointing to himself. “Alright, and what about Grifter? Who is he to you?” And he was glad his arm was left free. He pointed to himself again, then brushed the side of his cheek twice with the back of his hand, then had his hand go forward, palm down. “Or really? Then where are your wings?” And grian shook his hand like he slammed it in something. “Oh.”

Finally the hybrid moved away, freeing Grian from the ground. He rubbed his neck, coughing a little. “I see what he said about me needing to train…”

“So Gryan, what are you doing around my place?” The hybrid asked, standing up, not offering a hand to Grian.

“It’s Grian, and I was just trying to gather supplies. Grifter said I could stay in the castle, but to be honest, I’d like a place of my own. I went looking and found this place, so I was going to collect some wood. I didn’t realize this place belonged to you. But I’m glad you know BSL.”

The hybrid raised an eyebrow. “BSL? You mean sign language?”

“Uh, yeah. Your accent didn’t quite sound British, so I was worried you might have used ASL, or something else.”

“What’s the difference?”

“A lot. There’s also the two handed alphabet, and I'm pretty sure the sign for future is different if hurt isn’t.” Grian explained, finally pushing himself up to his feet.

“I just used what I was taught by my Grandma.” the hybrid shrugged. “She said something like it was bonzel? Or something like that.”

“BANZSL?” Grian said, fingerspelling it at the same time. “I mean, essentially the same thing. It’s just easier to say BSL.”

“I don’t understand anything you just said, I just know I understand the way your hands move.”

“Good enough.” Grian nodded. “So, your forest? I guess I cut down too many trees, huh?”

The hybrid shook their head. “Pfft, no. I can just replant them. You were just in what I think of as my place, and I’m not a fan of unfamiliar people showing up.”

“And Grifter is… is he allowed or not?”

“Oh he’s definitely allowed.” The hybrid smiled. “Coolest uncle around and now the admin, why wouldn’t I want him hanging at my place?”

“Cool.” Grian smiled, but then his eyes widened. “Wait so I’m an uncle?!”

The hybrid shrugged. “I dunno. You’re from the past, right? I doubt I’m born yet for you- how old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

“What the fuck, I’m older than you!” The hybrid exclaimed “Sort of. Long story. Short version is the old admin was a bitch.”

“So, does that mean you were born at that point?”

They rubbed their chin. “No, not yet. I’m trying to remember how old I was and how old dad was when I was adopted.”

“Oh, you were adopted?”

“I think. It’s easier than saying my real dad ran out on my mom and then she dated and married this new guy who’s now my dad.”

“Yeah, that does sound easier.”

“So, I don’t think I gave my name. I’m Fleur.”

Grian smiled and shook their hand. “Nice to meet you.”

.

.

.

Mumbo wanted to find Grian and leave right now. He was pretty sure the others thought the same, but right now they were all split up. They had started to explore before EX had caught up to them. Before he could say why, they were soon attacked by a creeper hybrid going by the name Euro. Mumbo could tell it was obviously the same one that was Techno’s Hels version based on the way they fought, managing to go hand to hand with the piglin hybrid.

Even with that, Euro had been strong enough to keep them split up, and now Mumbo was worried about Grian and Grum. He was especially worried from the fact that they had been there for about a day and he hadn’t seen any sign of Grian or his hels copy. It also didn’t help that the mobs here seemed to be more powerful than the ones on hermitcraft, which caused even more problems. Even in the day, he was getting trouble from zombies and skeletons that were wearing helmets, protecting them from the sun.

An arrow nearly hit Mumbo, breaking him out of his thoughts and making him start to run so he could find new cover. He barely got a shield up in time to block an arrow before he dove into a cave and pulled out a spare redstone torch for some semblance of light. The redstoner backed up, hoping for a bit more cover, but then he bumped into something that was unmistakably someone else. He was about to scream, but then his mouth was covered by a hand, so he struggled instead.

“Calm down, it’s just me!” A voice spoke that was just a little too cheerful for the situation they were in. Mumbo stopped struggling and was let go, able to turn around and see Wilbur was in the cave with him.

“Oh thank goodness. I was worried I wasn’t going to find anyone else.” He looked Wilbur over. “How are you doing?”

“Well, once you’ve died once, the fear of dying again isn’t that bad, especially since we get respawns here.” Wilbur replied, not as chipper as before.

“Yes, but that’s only with respawn anchors, and last I checked, we weren’t linked up to any of those. And if we are, we don’t know where it is and if it's broken or not.”

“Hmm, that’s true.” Wilbur replied, tilting his head slightly in thought. “Well, I’m sure there’s something for if you die and don’t have one yet. I’m sure they wouldn’t make it that easy to actually die.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Mumbo conceded. “But we should still be careful.”

The pair prepared themselves to move out of the cave and get through the landscape, not as worried now that neither of them were completely alone. They were just about to leave when Wilbur grabbed Mumbo’s shoulder and pulled him back. “Wait, there was something I wanted to tell you.”

“What was that?” Mumbo asked, turning back to look at the other man, who seemed to currently be struggling with trying to remember. He remembered at the party hearing mention that Wilbur had still been struggling with his memory after officially being revived, so Mumbo was patient with the man.

“Techno… he mentioned something about when Grifter was in the Dream SMP. About Euro.”

“I think I remember overhearing a tad bit of that when you were both over for Grum’s party.” Mumbo replied. “Something about Grifter talking about his family.”

Wilbur nodded. “Yeah, it was… That’s what it was!” And he smiled, finally remembering, before frowning again at whatever he remembered. “That was Euro who attacked us, but from what I heard, Grifter bragged about him being some sort of coward. That seemed like the opposite of what we saw. Do you think it was a lie? Or maybe that was someone else.”

“I’m not sure.” Mumbo replied. “Maybe he was just using the element of surprise. If we see him again and attack, it could scare him.”

“You’re right, that’s probably it.” Wilbur agreed. “If we see him again, I’ll try attacking and he’ll run off, letting us look for the others.”

“You think they’re alright?”

Wilbur shrugged. “Depends on if any of them are with someone else or by themselves.”

“I guess that’s true. So, what can you tell me about the people from your world? It might help us know what to expect.”

.

.

.

Grum smiled as he cut down another zombie, getting approval from Techno. The two of them had quickly found each other again after Euro split them up, mainly since Techno stayed behind to fight the hels smp’er, and Grum hid nearby. Since then, they fortunately hadn’t run into anyone else, but the longer they went without seeing anyone at all, the more suspicious it became.

“Do you think they’re planning an ambush?” Grum suggested, making Techno shrug.

“If it were me, I’d probably try that. But this isn’t the SMP I’m used to.”

“Yeah, but it also looks like this place is still pretty dangerous. Nightmare was just as bad as Dream… and Theseus wasn’t that nice either.”

“Could also be that the rest of them are just idiots and cowards.” Techno said, hoping to lighten the mood. “They see us out here slaying monsters left and right and know not to deal with us.” That seemed to work as Grum giggled a little. “They’ve seen true terror! A pig and a child, truly a force to be reckoned with.”

They were able to keep the mood up for a bit longer, but then Grum was feeling sad again. “I really hope my dad is okay. He got really hurt last time we saw Grifter. I did too…” And his screen flickered a little.

Techno noticed Grum’s distress and picked the bot up, putting him on his shoulders and trying to ignore chat’s cooing. “Yeah, well now you’ve got me, and Phil’s around here somewhere, so we can take him on.”

“Yeah, and we also have Paul.”

“Still not sure what his deal is, but chat seems to know something about him. They’re just shouting all over each other so I can’t tell what they’re talking about other than it being him.”

Grum nodded, quiet as they walked a bit, then he leaned down and looked at Techno. “Hey, maybe we can find out. He’s supposed to be a king, right?”

“Unfortunately, yeah.” Techno replied. “Why?”

Grum sat back up and crossed his arms, Techno lifting his own arms up worried that Grum was about to fall off his shoulders. “It’s more of a fortunately. I’ve got extra diamonds and you can use those so I can get access to my mayoral reservoirs.”

Techno stopped walking. “You sure that’s a good idea? How do we know it’ll even work for him? Or, you know, even work for you?”

“Well,” Grum conceded. “We don’t really know. I mean, we’re in a hels dimension, so I might not be able to access anything. Or it might crash again, though I think that was just your old admin’s fault.”

“Then let’s not risk it just yet. We don’t need to know about that and if it goes wrong, it will go really wrong and leave you out of commission.” Techno explained, starting to walk again, but then immediately stopped, only moving to bend down and set Grum down on the ground and grab his weapon.

Seeing what he did, Grum grabbed his own sword, ready to attack whatever Techno noticed. For a few moments, everything was completely quiet. Then, before either of them could react, both Grum and Techno were suddenly trapped in bedrock.

.

.

.

Paul sliced through another group of mobs in the way, then helped Tommy up to the ledge he was on. Tommy had yet to even swing his sword with Paul tearing through anything in the way. At the very least he had been able to use a bow to shoot things down from afar, but Tommy prefered melee to ranged. The teen wouldn’t have been too frustrated if it weren’t also for the fact that the man was going out of his way to kill any chicken they saw as well.

“I still don’t fucking get why you keep killing chickens. Why do they matter?” Tommy asked, picking up some feathers left behind.

“All chickens are spies, or at least a good enough portion that it’s best to get rid of any you see.” Paul explained, suddenly swinging at a creeper that had snuck up on them. “They’ve been a problem for as long as I can remember. At first, I had know clue why, it was just a sort of gut feeling. Like I knew when I didn’t actually know.”

“Alright, and so you just took it as fact?” Tommy asked, rolling his eyes.

“Not, of course not.” Paul replied. “I mean, only dumb people would do that, and there’s three types of people in this world, those who can do math, and those who can’t.”

“Bitch that’s two types of people.”

Paul sighed and looked back at Tommy. “Yeah, that’s the joke.”

“Oh…”

“Anyway, one time I found one messing with my things. I thought it was just a fluke until it happened again. At this point, I was already in the show biz a bit, so I played along. I trapped the chicken and then started jokingly interrogating it. When it actually started writing its chicken scratch on a sign, I thought I was going crazy at first.”

“So, it was actually a spy?” Tommy asked, not fully believing him.

“Yeah, it was. And from there things started unravelling until I finally met Punch.”

Tommy frowned. “And Punch is your hels version?”

“As far as I can tell, yeah.” Paul affirmed. “Pablo Punchwood, god of unwilling death. Most people think of ravens, crows and vultures as birds signalling death, but chickens can be ruthless. Whoever thought of calling cowards chickens did not meet a real chicken.”

“Really? What harm could they do?” But Paul didn’t answer Tommy verbally. Instead, he pulled out a book bound with black leather and opened it, following along with a page. A moment later, a rift of a sort of camo green color opened in the air next to the pair, and Paul reached his hand in, pulling out what looked like a dead mouse. “What the fuck was that?!”

“Think of it like a sort of multiworld enderchest.” Paul explained, though still not answering Tommy’s question about the chicken. When they next encountered some monsters, Paul had them take a more covert route, hiding instead of fighting.  Finally, they reached a pair of chickens while the pair of them crouched in the grass. Paul pulled the rat out again, then bit at the inside of his cheek a bit before using the blood from the wound he caused to put blood on the rat.

Tommy watched as the man then threw the animal towards the chickens, surprised by how quietly it went through the air. Then it landed and caught the attention of the chickens, who then started pecking at the creature. After a few seconds, Tommy looked away, not able to stomach what he saw.

“So, that’s chickens for you. Anything about that size that’s injured, and they’ll tear it to shreds. Sometimes there are even chickens that are confident enough to go after people, but bluckers are the ones you need to look out for. They really like to bite.”

“So chickens have been dangerous spies this entire time?!” Tommy asked as they started to move, looking back to see only the bones of the rat were left behind.

“Sure have been. It’s part of why avians are a class all of their own when talking about hybrids.” Paul explained, getting them through another rough patch of monsters. “See, ages ago, there were dinosaurs, and those eventually found their way to being various birds. Technically, there’s a longer explanation, but that’s all you really need to know right now.”

“So avian hybrid people are technically part dinosaur?” Tommy asked, surprised.

“Sort of. See, when you get into the nitty gritty of it all, part of the reason avians are called that and not bird hybrids is because of the fact that they tend to be more shifter than hybrid.”

“More what?”

“Shifter. There’s different classes of what most people generally call hybrids. There’s standard humans, hybrids, shifters, and naturals. Of course, technically humans count as naturals, but the categories were made by a human so it’s a bit of prejudice there.”

“Can you fucking cut to the chase?” Tommy asked, not wanting a lecture.

“Sure.” Paul shrugged. “Punchwood is my evil version, he’s got a thing with chickens, even though he should be staying in this dimension, he’s messed with things, avians are some sort of descendant deity now, and that makes categorizing them odd.”

Tommy was completely silent for a few moments, even stopping in place as Paul continued walking. Then, he came to his senses and ran to catch up. “What the fuck? None of that made any sense! Where do dinosaurs come into that? Why the fuck are there avians here then if he’s hels? Why isn’t it just fucking chickens then?”

Tommy didn’t have a chance to answer as suddenly Paul dodged an attack. Tommy himself barely pushed away, just in time to dodge an attack from a woman wielding a pink axe. He swung his netherite sword at the woman, which hit the blade of her axe, sending sparks into the air. “Hey! Are you going to help me fight or what?”

With those words, Paul attacked the woman as well, looking much sloppier than he had fighting the monsters. Though Tommy couldn’t do much about that right then, he still filed it away for later. After they dealt with whoever this was.

.

.

.

Doc tried to hold back another hiss. When he first ended up finding Phil, he was just glad to have someone else on his side. The monsters were a slight hassle, but between the two of them, they were getting through them well. So well that they actually had enough time to just walk and chat. Doc was even the one to suggest Phil come up with a topic to talk about. And he decided to ask about Doc’s interaction with gods.

Though the hybrid wanted to yell at Phil, he knew that was more the fault of Theseus, Paul and himself for opening things up to that conversation. So reluctantly Doc answered the questions Phil had.

“So why are you just calling it the Perd now?”

Doc rolled his eye a little. “Yeah. Easier to mishear and harder to search for. It’s not like we really want anyone releasing Notch into the world again.”

“Why would anyone want to let him out?” Phil asked incredulously. “He was a tyrant god. People were looking for a way to trap him for years.”

“Yeah, people were, but other people continued to worship him before and even after he was finally imprisoned. God apples being called that is still a recent change.” They paused the conversation to deal with some mobs before Doc continued the answer. “Not everyone is so long lived to remember those days. Heck, some people think Herobrine’s still not a nice dude because of that old propaganda that always got put out. I mean, he can be violent if need be, but you saw how tame he tends to be.”

“I have?”

“That’s Joe. The guy hanging with Cleo and wearing glasses. Eret’s dad.”

“Really? Wouldn’t have guessed.” Phil replied, and Doc was glad for the slightly lighter subject. But that took both of them off guard, meaning neither of them was ready when they were suddenly attacked by an enderman.

Phil was the first one attacked, the monster sending him a few meters back with the amount of force behind the attack. It swung at Doc next, hitting his right arm and leaving a dent in the prosthetic. When it tried to swing at Doc again, Phil had jumped back to his feet and swung his axe, the blade hitting the monster and making them teleport a few blocks away.

With the short break in fighting, Phil and Doc were able to get a good look at their foe. The enderman stood there, slouched over a bit, yet still taller than a regular enderman. Their normally small paw like hands were now large enough that Doc was pretty sure just one could wrap around his head, and that wasn’t counting that the monster had four arms instead of just two.

The last things of note was the fact that half of the enderman was a pale lavender instead of being all black, and they were also wearing a hawaiian shirt of all things. But that was enough for Phil to realize that they were dealing with Ranboo’s hels version.

.

.

.

Xisuma sighed as he got back to his feet. While he was glad to not have ended up completely alone in an unfamiliar world and dimension, he wasn’t the biggest fan of having only found his brother. X had tried a casual discussion, but EX always found a way to turn it into a fight.

And that also didn’t mention the trouble they were already having from mobs. Xisuma was defending the both of them while his brother refused to help, leaving the monsters with the upper hand. Xisuma could usually keep his cool fairly well, but at this point, Xannes was starting to get on his nerves.

“Could you move faster? You’re slowing us down.” EX said, making his point by walking faster than he was before.

“We would be making more progress if you were fighting the monsters instead of me.” Xisuma grumbled, making his point by shooting a nearby spider.

“Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t want me getting in the way.” EX replied smugly. “I’m sure you’d rather ban me again than have me sticking around. Who knows, maybe it would stick this time.”

“At this point, it would probably help.” Xisuma replied, though under his breath, not wanting his brother to hear him, then spoke in a more audible tone. “I’m sure you’d find a way around it.”

Xannes just chuckled, slowing down and finally letting Xisuma catch up again before tripping the admin with a laugh. Xisuma looked up in frustration at his brother before just lying on the ground for a moment to calm down, not wanting to fight back. And then Xisuma was suddenly dragged back with a yell as something grabbed his ankle.

Xannes turned around to see why X had yelled, only to find a trail in the ground and his brother missing. “What? Oh, ha ha. Very funny, brother. I’m sure even with my setbacks, us sticking together is still a better option.” He was quiet, waiting for a response, but none came. “Oh alright, I’ll be a bit nicer. Just come back.” But there was still no answer.

Now more worried, EX took his sword out, the blade a tad shaky in his hands. “Brother, I get your point now. My little jokes aren’t actually funny. Is that what you want right now?” Yet again, there was still no answer, except this time, there was the snap of a branch or something in the nearby area, leaving Xannes whirling around, weapon at the ready. “Br-Xisuma! Where are you?! Stop messing around!”

All that happened was another sound from nearby, making Xannes flinch, but with few other options he moved towards it. He needed to push through a bit of foliage, but then he finally saw his brother. The admin was tied up and hanging upside down, a very tall person standing next to him in a light blue cloak with gold accents, two pairs of wings on their back and a golden circlet on their head over the hood of their cloak.

Xannes crept forward, trying to make as little noise as possible. His eyes connected with Xisuma’s, who was trying to signal something, but the hels admin couldn't piece it out in time. Xannes looked back at the figure, only to see them turning back towards him. He tried to hide again, only to have his shoulder grabbed at the last moment and be yanked back.

EX got a glimpse of the person’s face, them similar enough to the demon from the DSMP that he made the connection. “Oh, and I can get a matching set out of this.”

Xannes kicked at the angel demon thing. “Let go of me you bastard! Or I promise you will regret it!”

“Oh, is that so?” They asked, tilting their head. “Well, I guess you’ll have to show me.” And they started to tie Xannes up as well.

When he was hanging next to Xisuma, the admin wriggled a bit to turn himself towards Xannes. “Why didn’t you do anything? I’m sure lightning could take down even an angel.” But Xannes just grumbled. “Look, I can’t get us out of this one, you can’t make me do everything.”

“Oh shut up!”

“Why? I’m not an admin here. I can only get us in and out of worlds, and at the very least I need to stay for the others. I can’t do anything to get us out, so you have to instead.”

“Well sure! Let me just, I don’t know, pull up my kill aura to attack him, hmm? Oh wait, I-”

And then Xannes stopped talking as suddenly the angel was attacked by an invisible force. The pair of admins watched as their captor was attacked until they finally died from damage, and a few moments later, Xannes and Xisuma were both freed from their bindings. “Took you long enough.”

Xannes picked himself off the ground. “That wasn’t you?”

“I told you I can’t do anything since I’m not the admin here. You were the one just talking about kill auras.”

“Well��� I can’t actually… access any of my hacks here.” Xannes hesitantly admitted. “And I never got to go to any of the fancy schools you got to go to, so I’m always relying on them for combat.”

“You’re saying you can’t actually fight? Is that why you weren’t helping?” Xisuma asked, taking his brother crossing his arms and looking away as a yes. “Well, we have ample time while making our way through this world looking through the others. I’m sure active experience would help.”

“I don’t want your help.” Xannes replied defensively. He started to walk off in a huff, then paused, looking back. “Why not pretend to teach your viewers or whatever you record things for? Pretend like you’re doing something useful.”

Xisuma chuckled and followed behind his brother. That was probably the best he was going to get from EX, but it was better than nothing. The two of them continued through the world, Xisuma defending against monsters they encountered. And if there were a few less, the pair didn’t notice, just as they didn’t notice the person in a frowning mask following behind them.

[watermelonlipstick]

Dreams, Chapter 11

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 11

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2616

Summary: Another dream makes things more clear for the reader and less clear for Sam.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, s l o w  b u r n

           The booths are those plastic-coated pressboard swoops that are so easy to clean, one row down either side of the long room once you walk past the counter to order. Like other pizza places, there are red pepper flakes and grated parmesan on the table, but they also keep ranch dressing in a minifridge behind the counter as a concession to Midwestern sensibilities. You know you’re just outside Dayton just like you know the pizza shop is run by a family, father and two older teenage daughters deftly throwing dough and scattering cheese evenly over it in a way that shows their years of practice. Dean sits across the table with his elbows on it, one forefinger and thumb picking through a plate of nachos between you. His black t-shirt, amulet, and lack of flannel make you notice the hum of the air conditioner in the background, straining over the 90’s alternative radio and reminding you that you’d been here in a heat stroke the summer after you and Dean had gotten together, his golden freckles and lightened tips of his slightly messy hair underlining the memory.

           “They don’t serve nachos here.” It’s half statement and half question.

           “Babe, it’s your dream. They’ll serve whatever you want. Does the pizza suck in Wisconsin or something?”

           The two sisters are whispering to each other as they look over at your table, an almost-argument that ends with who you suspect is the older sister poofing a pinch of flour into the other’s face. They’re both cute girls but she’s adorable, soft cherubic cheeks and messy bun piling impossibly glossy hair on her head as she walks over to the table with a gigantic pizza. “Can I get you anything else?” she asks in a perfect welcoming cheerleader pitch.

           “I think we’re good for now, sweetheart,” Dean purrs with a wink. That you remember; you’d playfully chastised Dean for dazzling the teens, laughing in his face when he’d said it wasn’t on purpose, that he couldn’t help it if chicks dug him. The wink had proved your point then and now it makes the girl’s cheeks flush red.

           She catches herself remarkably well, the stammer almost slipping under the radar as she assures you that you can “holler if you need anything!”

           Dean brushes his fingers free of nacho debris and loosens a piece of pizza from the melting cheese of the ones next to it. “Last time you had all kinds of sweet nothings and questions for me and now you’re Silent Cal?”

           “I don’t think this is real, but I’m pretty sure if I push it you’ll either die in this dream or I’ll wake up, so my plan is to stay here as long as we can.”

           He drops the pizza back into the box and wipes off his fingers on a napkin before slouching into the booth, arm stretched across its length. “So test me then. Gimme a question only I would know or something.”

           “Well if I ask you something that I know the answer to, my brain will just project you knowing it. See the problem?”

           Dean squints and pouts in consideration, touch of a smile dancing across his face and if it isn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen may you be struck dead right now. “Then ask me something you don’t know the answer to.”

           You think about explaining how that too could just be some part of your subconscious recreation of Dean but you don’t want to keep pulling at loose strings in the event that it wakes you up. It’s too hard to keep from smiling, seeing Dean charming and relaxed like this, and when you grin it makes Dean bite his lip. “What’s something I don’t know the answer to?”

           “Ah, ah—I thought I’m just a hologram, how would I know?”

           “Projection, but okay,” you stall. “Wait, here’s one. Sam said when I first started going on jobs with you guys that you had to have a conversation about staying focused. What was that all about?”

           He runs his tongue along the inside of his lower lip. “Man, why would he tell you that?” he says under his breath, smirking mostly to himself before leaning forward to meet your eyes. “Fine. I’m not even sure that you’re going to remember this. There was a vengeful spirit in Indiana, some like homesteader guy, ring a bell?”

           You have only the vaguest sense of recollection and sort of waggle your head to show it.

           “It was way at the beginning of when you started coming on jobs with us. You and Bobby got into it because he wanted you to bring your own car so you could ditch us if we were ‘acting like cretins’ or some shit like that?”

           That fits the last puzzle piece in for you and makes you chuckle. “He ended up giving me like $250 of mad money in case I needed a new room or a bus ticket, yeah. I remember.”

           “I didn’t know that part but that’s gotta be the same trip. The whole thing was really stupid. Basically we were supposed to have your six but both me and Sammy wanted to carry a shotgun instead of doing that protection spell because it looked cooler. We were arguing about it when the spirit whipped a chunk of the barn’s scaffolding at you and we didn’t catch it in time. You heard it coming and ducked so nothing ended up happening, but it fucking demolished the wall behind you. It was a huge fuckup—thing could’ve taken your head clean off, you know? Sam was so broken up about it he was wasted for like a week solid after we dropped you back off at Bobby’s.”

           “Really? That doesn’t sound like him at all.”

           “I know, usually he does some kind of pouty baby bullshit. But I mean both of us felt really guilty that bitching at each other could’ve taken you out.”

           Dean’s eyes rake over your face, seeming to linger over every inch like he’s going to draw a topographical map of it later by memory. You can tell he’s waiting for you to say something but you can’t think of anything other than tracing each of his freckles where they dust across his nose.

           A hand reaches over the table to run his fingertips along the back of yours, and that certainly feels real enough to send an ache into your gut. “What if you ask Sam? If he says that’s not what happened then you can keep saying I’m not real and you don’t have to listen to me.”

           “But he already basically told me that. The only thing I probably wouldn’t have guessed about that is Sam getting drunk about it—these could’ve been just well-informed guesses about when it probably was or the kinds of things it seemed like he was implying.”

           His lips press into a firm line and the barest touch of pink rises in his cheeks. “We, um, we pinky swore on it.”

           The adorableness of his embarrassment makes you grin teasingly as much as the divulgence does. “A pinky promise? You guys must’ve been pretty serious to take such a sacred oath.”

           He rolls his eyes at your ribbing and throws his hands back in his lap with a defeated smirk. “Laugh it up. Would that be good enough proof for you?”

           It seems like Dean has figured out a loophole in the system, but you’re sure the light of day and Sam’s scrutiny will figure out why it isn’t actual evidence of communication with Dean beyond death, and you tell him that.

           A curtain of suspicious confusion falls over Dean’s face. “Sam being weird about it is what’s keeping you from trusting this? Kid, I’ve been talking to Sa—”

           And you woke up.

           The bed was empty next to you but you could smell something sweet in the air and hear the light clinking of pots or pans Sam was trying his best to keep quiet. You blinked back a few tears of frustration—who even cared if it was real or not? Reliving a great memory with Dean was more than enough and instead of enjoying it you’d wasted a chance at some small respite from your constant ache of grief. And even then, you hadn’t used any of your time to figure out how the whole thing worked, how you could see him again.

           But the most pressing issue was what you thought Dean had been trying to say before disappearing; that he had gotten through to Sam. Sam, of course, deserved to have secrets, but if he had been sitting on the resolution to all the angst you’d been struggling through in the last weeks (months?), you couldn’t imagine a reason why that wouldn’t hurt. Nothing would be solved by laying in your bed to sulk about it, though, so you threw on some clothes and went to brush your teeth.

           When you came out, Sam was hunched slightly, the standard stove highlighting his decidedly non-standard height as he shuffled a pan’s handle. He had a dishtowel over his t-shirt clad shoulder, a habit from the bar that sometimes held over when he was in the kitchen at home, and bare feet under old jeans. They were wearing through at the knees, and you knew they were absolutely pajama-soft from having periodically thrown them in with your own laundry. Through the kitchen window, enough snow-brightened sunlight came into the room to cast him in a halo glow that gleamed off of his hair. As long as it had gotten, chunks still swept into his face as he looked down at the stove, and he tucked one behind his ear as he looked up, half-singing a Buddy Guy song that was playing softly. It was stunning—he was stunning, statuesque and strong and right there in front of you. Cooking you breakfast while you slept in, of all things, chocolate chip pancakes he had to have remembered were your favorite from ages ago. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d had them and right now, nothing in the world sounded better. He beamed and tilted the pan toward you. “Morning! I made pancakes, you want some?”

           And you should’ve just let the moment rest, sat in the rare bright winter morning and eaten chocolate chip pancakes and relished how well the boiler was working, maybe later in the day read a predictable murder mystery or taped off the living room to be painted and listened to REM until your shoulders were sore from running rollers up the walls all afternoon. Instead, about as stupid and weird a flop as if a toad had come out of your mouth, you said, “Have you been talking to Dean too?”

           Sam’s face fell but not in the right way. There was too much angle in his brow and that confirmed it. “What?” he asked, but it didn’t land.

           “How long have you been talking to Dean?”

           He kept that curious smile for a second, like maybe he could push through by playing dumb and you would forget, but finally his lips flattened and his jaw clenched as he stacked a finished pancake on top of its predecessors. “Just because I’m having dreams about him doesn’t mean it’s really him,” he finally answered, softly and as though he was telling the bubbling pancake batter in front of him, unable to meet your eyes.

           You felt the lump forming in your throat and tried to get the words out ahead of its solidifying. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

           “For what?” He let go of the pan and turned toward you, supporting his weight on the countertop. “So we can both—”

           “Both what? Be delusional? Is that what you were going to say?”

           Sam didn’t answer, but the set of his jaw was firm and he kept his eyes locked on yours.

           “He told me you were drunk for a week after the hunt you were talking about.” You watched as Sam’s pupils widened a touch. “And that you didn’t just promise each other to buckle down, you pinky swore.” Sam’s Adam’s apple jumped in his throat. “It’s true, isn’t it? I can see in your face that it is. Did you already know it’s really him?”

           He looked down at the floor and clenched his jaw. “I was pretty sure. Or at least I really hoped I was pretty sure.”

           You felt more than consciously allowed your mouth’s falling open. “How? How long?”

           “It just—I don’t know, it just felt different. I—uh, the first time was after we made those cupcakes; he asked about the cupcakes.”

           You slumped against the countertop opposite him, speechless. He shoved the pan off the hot burner a little too hard, put a palm on either side of the stove to brace himself. The two of you stood like that for a long minute, the smell of chocolate not matching the stiff heaviness in the air at all.

           “I don’t—what if it’s not real?” His throat sounded bound even though you couldn’t see his face, hulking mass of him spread across the tiny kitchen.

           He seemed so defeated, so young, and then you couldn’t believe how selfish you’d been, not putting two and two together that something challenging Sam’s grip on or understanding of reality must shove him back to the brain melting torture he’d endured in the cage and the months—years, maybe, he was always so tight-lipped about it—afterward. What the fuck were you thinking, not seeing it before, how this could seem like a perfectly laid trap for Sam, the most poetic way to whip his mind into stiff peaks of meringue. It made so much sense why he would need time to really suss it out, see the situation from all angles and investigate, check and re-check. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes but you blinked them away. This was not about you or your complicated need for him, it was about Sam, what he’d been through, what he was likely putting himself through even now.

           “The, um, the pancakes smell really good.”

           “Yeah?” There was half a laugh behind his words, humorless as it was. “I hope they’re okay, I know they’re your, uh, your favorite.”

           “I’m surprised you remembered.”

           Sam leaned on one arm to rub his face with his other hand. “Yeah, well.”

           “Can I help?”

           After a beat, he stood up and offered some space next to him on the stove. You worked hip to hip, sprinkling the chocolate chips while Sam flipped. He was scraping the last of the batter into a last little runt pancake with a spatula when you couldn’t help yourself and wrapped your arms around his waist. He seemed surprised, if sad, before setting down the bowl and covering as much of you as he could, folding over you like a protective shell. It reminded you of that dirty motel room, months and months ago, when Sam held you together as you cracked in his arms. All he could do then was be steadfast in reminding you he was still there, if nothing else was, and you hoped you were able to give him the same now.

           You silently laid two place settings on the kitchen counter while Sam set the food out. He sat next to you and had picked up his fork when you touched his wrist to still him. “If it’s not real for you then I’m losing it too.”

           Sam thought for a second, then raised his forearm and kissed the back of your hand where you held onto him before cutting into his pancakes.

-

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 12

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[yandere-wishes]

Yandere Octavinelle Turns Into Babies Headcanons

Requested by the lovely @minteasketches​ . I’m not super happy with how it turned out, nevertheless I hope you enjoy it, darling. 

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Azul Ashengrotto

It was supposed to be a simple spell. "Something to strengthen the contracts with" was what your self proclaimed lover and currant kidnapper had declared. 

Personally, you didn't really care, it was far too early to be awake and worrying about contracts and potions and whatnot. But sadly as part of a deal, you had made all so long ago, your soul had become fused with Azul's. Where he went, you went. 

And he wanted to be in his office at the Mostro Lounge at bloody 6 am!

So here you, lounging on a decorative sea shell-like chair that Azul had bought you. Eyes dropping only to be shot back open from the chiming of potion bottles. Your brain was foggy, dreary even. Dreaming of Azul's soft mattress and warm blankets. The fluffy pillows cradling your head as you escaped your cruel reality. 

You would have sworn that you'd only closed your eyes for a minute. A measly sixty seconds, but that was enough time for everything to go downhill. 

Something hit the ground, sending a crackling noise echoing through the room. a mere moment later some forging high pitch cry reverberated off the powder purple walls. 

Looking around in a panic-induced daze your eyes landed on something shuffling around under Azul's clothes...

Wait! Under Azul's clothes?

It didn't take long to realize what had happened. 

Slowly pushing the fabrics aside you came face to face with a tiny octo-boy.

To your utter horror, he looked like he was gasping for air, waving his arms around as his cries turned into desperate heaving. 

Lifting the poor thing up you looked around trying to find some sort of nearby water source to put the boy in. Luckily the table in the center of the room had water underneath a thin sheet of glass. Shoving the glass to one side you clumsily ducked Azul into the liquid.

The tiny octopus slowly slumped into the water laying down on his back so to breathe properly. Fully submerging his body in the aqua liquid.

As the adrenaline wore down, you began to notice just how cute and also innocent the small thing looked as he half-heatedly blew bubbled from his mouth. 

It was hard to believe that the manipulative man that had imprisoned you, stripped you of your precious freedom, could be, was actually at some point in his life just a defenseless baby. He looked so angelic, so sweet. 

Nervously you bite your lip, trying to find a more suitable aquarium for the little white-haired baby. 

Just as you were about to push your self to your feet, a tiny tentacle reached out from the shallow water, wrapping itself gently against your finger.

The tiny gesture warmed your heart in such a way you never thought Azul capable of. 

Breathing out a sigh You plucked one of the decorative starfish form the makeshift pool, holding it above Azul's head and watching as he tried to reach for it. 

For now, you were content with keeping the baby occupied. Jade and Floyd could deal the reversing the spell later. Maybe for today, all you had to do was play around with the tiny little thing before it turned back into the monster, present in each of your nightmares. 

🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙

Jade Leech

Some rumors about mushrooms with "mystical properties" that grew in the enchanted forest were circling the school.

Surely it was a myth started by some bored teacher or mischievous student. 

Nevertheless Jade has declared that he wanted to see these mushrooms firsthand. That would be the very reason you where both hiking through the forest, getting bitten by countless mosquitoes, as branches and stray roots cut into your skin. 

"How much longer" the poor darling wined as you slumped against a nearby tree gasping for air.

The "nicer" twin responded with a simple wave of his hand and breathless murmuring that sounded slightly like "Almost there"

"Almost there" turned into another hour of trailing through the endless greenery. Until the two of you came to a clearing illuminated by the rogue rays of the sun. 

Huddled together, growing row after row was, sure enough, a patch of those infamous mushrooms. 

Jade's eyes started to sparkle, gleaming at the fungi, in a matter of seconds he was running towards them, long forgetting his "beloved"

Just as the eel boy reached out to pluck one of the mushrooms, something bizarre began to occur. 

The clearing faded into a puffy white light, almost like a mushroom cloud had erupted.

 acting on instinct you shield your face with your arms. Your mind rushed, trying to understand what was happening.

Splitting your eyes open to peak at your surroundings. You scanned the clearing attempting to locate Jade, but to your surprise, he was nowhere in sight. 

A part of you wanted to run away. If you could just remember the path that led here than there was a good chance you could get away from Jade. 

Just as you were about to take off, you heard a faint noise in the distance. Something like the cooing of bird or...the wails of an infant. 

You gulped, carefully stepping over to where the noise was coming from. Peering behind the mushrooms you noticed a tiny blob of teal rolling around. For a second you didn't believe your eyes. As you got closer to the tiny thing it began to look more and more like an infant, and infant that resembled Jade! 

Sure you weren't Jade's biggest fan, you despised him, to say the least, but...this was just a child. Defenseless and rolling around on the grass. The moment his mismatched eyes landed on you, the tiny eel began gooing and gaing. Extending his arms, reaching out to you trying to gain some affection. 

Picking him up and cradling him close to your chest, you watched as the baby moray eel, wrapped his small tail around your wrist. 

despite the slimy cold feeling it left, you couldn't help but smile and wiggle your index finger close to his face. 

"Come on Jade, let's get you home. Maybe Azul can find a way to get you back to normal...or hopefully not"

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

Floyd Leech

It all started with Floyd acting out during Alchemy class

"These recipes are too boring! Shrimpy hand me that pink liquid over there! Oh Oh and the green one too!"

Sure you tried to stop him...but really what can stand in Floyd's way when he's in one of his "moods" 

Floyd went ahead mixing the pink sweet-smelling liquid and the glowing green one into the base component that Professor Crewel had provided.

Nothing….

For a few moments, all seemed peaceful. Floyd's face morphed into a frown as he glared daggers at the rotten looking liquid. 

Slowly some bubbles started to form on the surface, popping the moment they breathed out the liquid container. 

Floyd's face started to light up, he craned his head closer to the liquid. 

"Shrimpy-chan look! It's changing colo-"

A loud booming noise filed the room. Screams and shouts of terror and shock soon joined the fray. 

A thick smoke hovered over the classroom, so dense that one could barely see in front of them. 

Somewhere, someone opened a window. Permitting the fog to escape, evaporating as it slithered out of the classroom. 

Crewel's voice boomed around the room. "FLOYD LEECH!!"

But to everyone's surprise, there wasn't a sound...heck Floyd wasn't even there!

You slightly turned your head to the side. Gaze flickering over Floyd's empty seat. As your sight shifts lower, you notice a tiny little baby, sitting where Floyd had been moments ago. 

Letting out a little laugh you pick up the tiny eel baby. squealing and almost dropping him as he wraps around your wrist trying to bite your hand. 

"Floyd stop it!" All eyes turn towards you, gasping at the little "serpent" trying to ripe off a chunk of your flesh. 

Good job (L/N), you found...well a tiny version of Floyd." Letting out an exaggerated sigh, Crewel turned to face the class. "Class dismissed! I have to work on a potion to get that little puppy back to his normal self...or whatever he was before!"

The rest of the students swiftly leave the room. Leaving behind a crying baby Floyd, an angry-looking Crewel and poor little you, who was desperately trying to clam the baby down. 

Seeing no other options you wagged your pinky finger close to Floyd's mouth. Flinching as he harshly bit down. 

Sure it was painful but it kept him quiet. 

It took some time to put together a tiny aquarium for the little devil as well as make a potion for him. 

The sun had long since set, you laid your head on your desk watching the tiny Floyd swim around. Everything felt so unusually serene. Your eyes felt heavy, closing on there own accord. The moonlight cast a chilling glow over your unconscious form. 

"W-wa-wake! Swimpy, Wake!" You cracked one of your eyes open to notice the small child splashing some water on you. His head risen over the edge of the aquarium. 

"I'm up Floyd" you murmured. Steadily you pulled the small aquarium to yourself. Caging it between your arms and resting your head against the class. 

Right before your eyes closed once more, sleep overtaking, you noticed Floyd resting his head against the glass and shutting his little eyes too.

"Night, night Swimpy"

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[liamloveslarry]

The Boy Who Cried Wolf~

okay i’ve posted some snippets below and i’ve kept the general theme the story flows in so far, however it may not make sense as i’ve purposefully left some things out but i think u can get a general vibe from it hopefully, idk let me know what you think bc it’s been ages since i’ve picked this up and i would love to finish and post it soon!

tw for one use of derogatory language, violence, body horror/gore, swearing, experimentation, surgery & fictional medicines, mild nsfw, use of guns but at the beginning - these all sounds worse than they are, but it’s a werewolf fic so there had to be some element of ~horror.

The ground beneath Harry is hard and damp. 

He can feel the wetness soak through into his already sodden socks from where his shoes had come off in the brawl, and it reminds him of being young and spilling ice cubes on the floor, trying to hastily clean the water up with his foot and feeling the cold cling to his toes. 

He squeezes his fists together and bends his head between his knees, breathing deep. 

There’s a chill in the air and the frost nips at his nude body, causing goosebumps to flare in his skins wake so fast it stings as they burst through his flesh. 

His long hair acts as a barrier against the frigid air, but every time he rocks back, the metal bars stood tall behind him hiss against his skin and cause him to whimper and growl. 

He looks up and wraps his arms around his knees, shielding what little modesty he has left. 

He can see two guards standing either side of the cell, each holding firearms in their sturdy arms. Their fingers on the trigger ready to shoot if Harry so much as thought about doing something he shouldn’t. 

There’s another body to the right of him that looks in bad condition. He can smell it before he sees it. The person’s leg appears to be injured judging by the sluggish trail of blood that’s pumping into a puddle on the floor, and there are multiple cuts and grazes across their torso and face. 

Deep enough that Harry can see muscle and bone. Deep enough that Harry can’t tell if it’s a man or a woman.

If he focuses enough, he can hear them breathing. 

Or maybe that’s just himself.

Harry’s feet scuffle on the floor as he tries to get a closer look, but it causes one of the guard’s head to twist towards him and narrow his eyes, gripping his gun even tighter as he opens his big, fat mouth.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He growls.

Harry whips his head up and looks him in the eye. He retracts his arm slowly from where he was reaching out to touch the person’s pulse point and places it on the floor.

The guards face is pinched and sweaty, as if he’d be afraid of Harry if there wasn’t a thick barrier of metal between them. He can hear the hitch in his breath when does so much as blink, confirming the theory further that he’s more afraid of Harry than Harry is of him.

“What am I doing here?” His voice his shot and gruff, a reminder of just two hours previous when he’d been snarling and shouting, trying to tear chunks of flesh from their bodies out of fear while they’d held him down and stunned him into submissive shock.

He doesn’t remember much after being shoved into the back of a truck and led to where he assumes, he is now, cooped up in a dingy cell with a half rotting body and two wankers as company.

The guard punches out a laugh, the tip of the gun clanging against the metal as his body jerks forward. It causes Harry to wince as the sharp sound penetrates his ear drums.

“For a dog I thought you’d be smarter. But it looks like you’re just another dumb bitch.”

Harry’s fingers catch against the grain of the floor as the tip of his claw protrudes and causes the concrete to shift and crumble beneath him. He can’t help the rumble in his chest while the thought to bare his teeth becomes more prominent each second the guard smirks and cocks his gun mockingly at Harry’s head. 

“Calm down puppy, it’s not even a full moon yet so I dunno why you’re gettin’ all hyped up.” 

Harry doesn’t feel himself move but he can see the guard’s eyes sweep across his form, right from the tips of his toes to his hairline as he clenches his gun tighter, which means he now must be standing. 

He knows better than to step forward, knowing he’ll probably get shot if he dares so much as inch his pinky out. 

He can feel his bones shift and his muscles twinge, and there’s a deep throbbing coming from his thigh which he only notices now. As he casts his eyes down, he can see it’s torn and open. There must be something slowing the healing as usually something like that would’ve closed up by now.

“Tell me why I’m here.”

The guard cocks his eyebrow.

“No.”

Harry’s hands clasp into fists and he takes a deep breath.

“Tell me why I’m here.”

He can see the guard smirking, albeit if he narrows his eyes slightly, he can still see his pulse jumping under his skin as if trying to scramble from his body. He shifts his hip slightly to take the weight off his injured leg, causing his cock to slap against his thigh.

The guard’s eyes drift down and this time it’s Harry’s turn to smirk.

“What’s the matter? Never seen one this big before?”

The guards face turns red and he splutters, his pig face scrunching up as if he’d sucked on a sour lemon and he scrambles to point his gun through the bars and at Harry.

“Shut the fuck up you fucking dog! I swear to god I’ll blow your fucking brains out you mutt, you utter cu- “

“That’s enough.”

They both whip their head towards the second guard as his hand inches out and places it on the other guard’s gun, pushing it down slowly.

“You!”, he says, eyes piercing into the other man and gritting his teeth, “need to shut your fucking gob and stop riling Lassie up; and you!”, he turns and sweeps his gaze over Harry’s form, boots coming to rest against the edge of the metal, “need to stop asking so many sodding questions and shut up.”

Harry blinks down at his wet socks and frowns.

“Can I at least have some clothes?”

The second guards gaze lingers on his abdomen.

“No,” he smirks, eyes trailing upwards and resting on Harry’s face, “I’m rather enjoying the view.”

Harry growls out “fucking pervert” and doesn’t think twice before moves his foot forward, which causes the first guard to panic and fire his gun. 

The bullet doesn’t pierce his skin, but it’s made of something hard and it smacks full force him in the chest, instantly knocking him backwards and winding him.

He can see both of the guards arguing and waving their arms at each other, but his hearing has gone woofy so he can’t understand what they’re saying. 

The room is starting to spin and the pain in his thigh and upper chest are getting worse, causing Harry to sway on the spot and collapse onto his knees.

The last thing he remembers is the sound of an alarm before his vision blurs and turns to black.

~

It was dark by the time he’d left the office, nodding and waving at the receptionist who was sat in the tiny booth on his way out. It had also been raining, which Harry realises now he probably should’ve driven in, but the morning had been so frosty and clear with dew drops settling on autumn leaves, that he couldn’t help but walk through the winding paths and bramble bushes to get to work. Even if it did take him thirty minutes.

He remembers pulling his hood up and walking down the road until he reached a narrow ginnel that acted as a bridge between the small town and his house.

It had been here he’d been attacked.

At first, he thought it was just somebody mugging him and he knew it wasn’t best placed to chomp his way out of it, it wouldn’t look too good if a local hooligan had been found with teeth marks imprinted onto his skin, so he’d done his best to ignore him, promptly shoving them off; only to realise there was two of them and one had what looked to be a gun.

Stunned, he’d tried to run but they’d pinned him down and cast a sickening blow to his stomach. It had caused Harry to go into sensory overload as he could smell the cheap cigarette smoke on their collars and their nasty breath wafting up his nostrils, causing him to heave and snarl. It was only a matter of time before his abilities kicked in and his claws and teeth had decided to make an appearance. He’d nicked of the men on his jaw and tried to bite his neck, but the other man held an electric rod against his ribs and shocked him.

~

She’s fair skinned and has light brown hair that’s held up in a ponytail. She doesn’t say much as she checks the stats on the monitor screen, but Harry does his best to smile whenever she looks over at him.

“Hey. What’s your name?”

She startles and nearly drops her clipboard, grasping it at the last second before it falls to the floor. She looks at him wide eyed and says nothing.

“I’m not going to do anything, I promise”. He grins and wiggles his fingers slightly in the straps. “Not like I can do anything, anyway.”

She stares at him for a beat longer and lowers her head.

“Mary.” She mumbles, fiddling with the pen and twisting it in her fingers.

Harry smiles again and tries to get her to look up.

“Mary. That’s a nice name. My name’s Harry, but I’m guessing you already know that.”

She blushes and looks away, busying herself with the buttons on the monitor and biting her bottom lip. 

She’s nervous, Harry can sense it. But if he wants to get out of here semi-unscathed, he needs to play nice with those who so far, haven’t been very nice to him. She seems kind enough anyway, judging by the fact that she wasn’t poking any fingers into his wounds or prodding at his teeth.

“I know you probably can’t say much, and I understand that; I really do, but.” He sighs and looks down. “Please can you tell me where I am?”

She continues to ignore him, taking out a needle and flicking the cap. She pumps it a few times and Harry watches as the liquid inside begins to bubble up.

She goes to inject the tip into his thigh but he catches her wrist just as she was about to press in, claws forming a shield around her delicate bone.

She looks up at him wide eyed, her breathing heavy and scared.

“Mary, please. Please tell me where I am. I won’t let go until you say something.” He can feel her small hand trembling but he isn’t going to give up without a fight.

Her fingers squeeze tighter around the needle and she tries to force the tip into his skin, but his hold is stronger and she lets out a gasp.

“Please stop, you’re hurting me.” 

“I’m sorry, I will, I promise. But not until after you tell me where I am.”

Her fingers seem to seize and stop, dropping the instrument onto the bed and her quiet, shaking voice splits the silence open like a knife cutting through paper.

~

He can smell the winter air and the frost settles in his bones, calming him instantly. He’s also very aware that he’s still in a gown and participating in a full moon event of his own. 

He’s about to step over the threshold when a hand tugs him back.

Harry turns around, and he sees Mary for the kid she is. Barely an adult and shivering in the cold.

Her nose has turned red already.

~

He lets out a ragged sob and pounds his fist against the floor. He tries to move his leg and bend his arms to press against the solid ground so he can at least heave himself up when he notices a beaming light coming towards him. He turns his head and sees through tears, rain and the dirt prickling his eyelids, the headlights of a car that’s heading his way.

The car eventually slows down to a stop in front of him, but he can’t see much through the business of the windscreen wipers and the headlights shining in his eyes. He must look a right state right now, and he’s shocked the car even stopped for him. 

If it was him, he would’ve kept on driving. 

There’s a click and the engine turns off. The lights stay on, albeit they’re dimmed a touch. 

The car door opens from the driver’s side and a man dressed in a parka and joggers hesitantly makes his way around the front of the car.

There’s silence for a few moments until the man opens his mouth.

~

Harry doesn’t know how long they drive for. He’s content to just let the sound of the quiet radio wash over him while he huddles into the blanket more, directing his toes underneath the heater. He appreciates that Louis probably has a multitude of questions he’s dying to ask, but instead he keeps his mouth shut, humming along to the radio every now and then.

They drive through the tiny town of Barnstable and the car jostles as they drive over cobbled streets and the sporadic pothole. The occasional light flickers from the shore to the right of them, but other than that the streets are as dark and as quiet as the night sky.

They tumble upwards towards a hill and Louis leads them through winding roads and sharp bends. On a particularly keen one, the car lingers to one side and Harry’s thigh moves with the turn, bashing slightly against the inside of the car door.

He winces and Louis catches it, sending a look of sympathy his way.

“Sorry, mate. Won’t be long now – another couple of minutes.” He nods down at Harry’s leg which has started to seep blood through the material. “We’ll get that patched up straight away, just try and keep some pressure on it for now.”

Harry takes a deep breath and nods, wrapping a part of the blanket around his fist and pressing it harder against the wound.

~

He grabs some shampoo from the holder that’s stuck to the wall and squirts a generous amount into his palm, rubbing his hands together and lathering it through the strands. He does the same with the shower gel and starts to wash his body as he thinks.

What he remembers from the night feels fragmented and broken, tail ends of memories flashing before they disappear. He sighs and dips his head backwards underneath the water and washes the shampoo out. 

Whatever they shot him with must’ve delayed or hindered his healing abilities as usually anything superficial or worse, only takes around an hour to heal. Granted he’s never been shot before, it should’ve only taken a little longer before it had fully closed up, instead it had gotten worse the longer the bullet had been trapped inside his leg, rooted underneath muscle and skin.

He looks down and feels as well as sees, his skin starting to knit back together. Bits of flesh fusing as one around the stitches like solder to an iron. He doesn’t know what he’ll say to Louis in terms of there no longer being a wound or a scar left in its wake, but he figures he probably doesn’t need to be semi-nude around him again, so he decides not to say anything.

He scrubs the last remnants of dirt from his body and turns to switch the shower off, taking his time to grab the towel left for him on the radiator and wrapping it around his waist. 

He pads over to the mirror and looks at his reflection.

His eyes are slightly bloodshot and his cheekbones look hallow. His long hair is dripping lukewarm water down his chest and onto the floor, but he can’t find the energy in him to do something about it.

~

He spins towards Harry, blue eyes tired and sleepy, with a soft smile etched onto his face. He lifts his arm to ruffle the back of his hair and his arm muscle expands slightly, filling out the sleeve of his hoodie. It makes Harry swallow, a quiet click due to his dry throat echoing through the room.

“You’ll be okay in here, right?” Louis asks. “You know where the bathroom is and there’s some spare toothbrushes in the drawer, feel free to get up when you want and have another shower and stu- oh!” Louis pauses and places his hand into his hoodie pocket, pulling a small box out. “There’s some paracetamol here in case you need them in the middle of the night for your leg – pretty sure there’s a spare glass in the bathroom too, just in case you didn’t wanna stick your head under the tap.” He places the box down onto the bedside table and throws a smile Harry’s way.

Harry won’t need them but he nods and smiles anyway, yawning out a thank you. He forgets momentarily that Louis is still in the room when he starts taking the hoodie off, and only remembers when a cough sounds out against the silence and he whips his head up.

~

Harry unclicks his seatbelt and goes to open the car door when Louis’ hand stops him. He turns back. 

Tired, green eyes meet concerned, blue ones.

“Just.” Louis pauses. “Just be careful out there, okay?” Harry stays silent while Louis’ fingers tighten around his arm. 

It doesn’t feel unsafe.

“When I found you, I thought you were dead. I haven’t asked you what happened because I assumed you’d tell me when you were ready. And you still don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He rushes to say, then pauses to stroke his thumb lightly over Harry’s arm, hair standing to attention and swaying under soft material and fingertips. “So just, be careful. Please.”

His eyes feel like they’re boring into Harry’s soul, each pupil filled with worry and pleading as if for Harry to promise him. Harry doesn’t know what to do, so he gently places his hand on top of Louis’ and smiles kindly.

“I promise. It was just a,” how does he word this “– a bad night. And hopefully it won’t happen again.” He figures he might have to verbalize what happened one day, but today is not that day. Where would he even start? ‘Thanks for saving my life and oh, by the way, I’m a werewolf?’

One headache is enough for now.

Louis looks at him for a second longer and breathes out, squeezing his arm one last time and dropping his hand back down, resting it on his thigh.

“I’ll call you.”

Harry nods and opens the car door, turning back one last time.

“Thank you, for everything.”

~

Making his way through to the living room, he flicks the light on and watches as dust bunnies flit about the air, as if to say welcome home. The machine to the right of him is flashing relentlessly, signifying there are messages waiting for him. He presses the voicemail button and listens as a robotic voice, followed by a woman’s, floats through the speaker.

Beep. Three new messages.

Beep. First Message.

“Hi, love. It’s only me. Just checking to make sure you’re alright? I know you said you had a busy week so wanted to catch up before the weekend.”

Beep. End of first message. 

Beep. Second message.

“Hi, Harry. Me again. Not sure if you got my first message and I know you’re probably having a minute to yourself after work, but just give me a call back when you get this.”

Beep. End of second message.

Beep. Third message.

“Harry, it’s me. It’s nearly 8 o’clock and I haven’t heard anything. I’m starting to worry, will you ring me back, please? I swear to god if something’s happe-yes! I’m ringing him again, he’s not answering, Har-”

Beep. End of third message.

No more messages.

~

If he listens carefully enough, he can hear the hedgehog’s tiny teeth tear through the slop, gurgling as he swallows. Small wheezes puff through his narrow nostrils when he pauses, the spikes on his back sparkling under the stars. Harry’s eyes adjust better than any humans could while his ears hone in on the sounds around him. Voles and mice race through the grass, snatching worms and bugs alike. Owls hoot in the distance while foxes rummage through bins, rubbish galore. He can even hear the moths fluttering their tiny wings as they quiver and vibrate through the dark.

The plate is nearly empty when he hears something snap. Even Bob pauses licking the ceramic to sniff the air; black, beady eyes darting right to left. He must think they’re in the clear when he starts moving again, nifty nose nudging through wet food. Harry continues to watch the garden when he hears another snap. 

This time it’s louder.

Claws replace fingernails and grip the step below him, twists of PVC twirling underneath sharp talons as they’re sliced from the ledge. 

Forgive him for he usually wouldn’t be this on edge, however getting oneself kidnapped and tortured has made even the scariest of monsters slightly fearful.

Though his eyesight is much like that of a hawk, he can’t see anything out of the ordinary. The bushes and leaves sway slowly in the breeze, every now and then a hoot echoes in the distance.

He stops breathing when he feels something brush against his ankle and his claws pierce the delicate skin of his palm; but he realises when he looks down that it’s just Bob nuzzling between his sock clad feet, trying to reach a meaty grub that’s getting away. He lets out a sigh and closes his eyes, counting to ten in his head. He shifts his feet so his three-legged friend can reach his dessert. He decides it’s enough for one night and reaches down to pick the plate up. He stands and casts his eyes around the garden one more time, settling on a tree branch that rests over the fence. He doesn’t know how long he stares at it until he feels the chill of the air whip against his face. Blinking out of his stupor, he shakes his head and lets out a small huff, breath casting white shapes into the cold air. 

“Bed,” he whispers, “just go to bed, Harry.”

~

It’s the middle of the night when he needs the toilet, bladder unrelenting as he shuffles sleepily out of the tent, torch in one hand as he makes his way over to a nearby tree. He’s resting his palm against the trunk when he hears a snap and a low moan coming from somewhere next to him. He tries to hurry his peeing as fast as he can, shaking himself off and guiding himself back into his shorts when something barges into him, slamming him down onto the forest floor.

His head knocks against the ground and he groans, mind going fuzzy. He can’t see for shit what’s on top of him but it’s dark and big and it’s groaning. Rumbling screams clutching at his bones. He tries to shake it off but it’s larger than Harry, at least seven foot and it drags him about like prey. He goes limp and cold, as if his mind is disconnected from his body. All he can remember is a white-hot flash of pain from where the thing had sunken its jaws into Harry’s side, teeth seizing around his rib cage and pulling, twisting, sinking. He remembers trying to scream but no sound escaped his lips. It was like he was watching from above. Watching as his body was tugged and heaved from left to right. Sharp claws scratched and hooked at his hip bones, making sure he couldn’t get away.

He could feel blood oozing out from where he’d been bitten and torn at, and the pain he felt was almost blinding. His fingers twitched at his side until they felt something smooth and hard. In a moment of sheer adrenaline, Harry had lifted what he assumed was a rock and slammed it down onto the thing’s head, once, twice, three times. Until its jaws had become loose and its teeth unclenched from around his bones. Blood spurted onto his face, lining his lips and staining his eyelashes. The thing went limp and sagged against Harry’s body, white eyes rolling back into its split skull as it shivered, seized and stopped.

He remembers pushing it off his body as best he could and trying to scramble away from it, bare feet and toes digging into the soft earth as he pushed himself backwards. He gulped when he hit the back of a tree and lay panting, hands shaking as they touched his side, feeling nothing but hollow bone and air. Looking down there was only red. Torn flesh and muscle protruding and dangling down as if no longer part of his body.

He remembers sobbing as he blinked through the tears and tried to get a good look at the figure lying dead in front of him. Holding both hands against where he’d been bitten and pulled apart like leftovers.

He remembers looking up at the sky above him, the moon big and bold as she stared back at him.

He remembers feeling like he was going to die.

~

A book is placed into Harry’s hands and he looks confused at the two men before Zayn just nods his head at the item, encouraging Harry to open it. 

“What is this?” He asks.

“Just read it.” Niall says, blinking at Harry.

It’s black and the corners are worn. It isn’t a big book either by any means, but it’s chunky and smells of old leather. Indented in gold on the front page are what look to be like nymphs and needles, wound tight around flesh as if both are becoming one. He turns to the first page and registers the thin, waxy paper.

~

Harry nods, doesn’t feel as though he can speak properly before stepping onto the train. His foot barely reaches the entry when his name is called behind him. He turns his head and sees Zayn walking up to him.

“I,” he coughs, looking around him a touch awkwardly, Niall turns away and bends down, pretending to busy himself with his shoelace. “Stay safe, yeah?” 

He pulls something out of his pocket and presses it into Harry’s hand. “Call us if you need us, anytime. I mean it.”

And with that he’s spinning around and walking up to Niall, clapping him on the back and nodding towards the exit. Harry tightens his fist around whatever Zayn had given him and ducks into the carriage, finding a seat near the far back and sitting down.

He rests his head against the cool glass and shuts his eyes.

Tries to keep his racing thoughts from becoming nightmares.

~

Page 37.

Sally.

ne.re.id. sea.nymph. mer.ma.id.

August 13th 1989. 15:07pm.

Found near the North coast of Portknockie in Scotland. Terrain is rocky and waves were at high speed. Out of plain sight to any passersby, however not so hidden she wouldn’t have been spotted by cliff dwellers. Water is salty meaning she has not swum from any freshwater rivers or lakes. Around 250cm in length, including the tail which has been jaggedly severed from fin upwards. The creature is unconscious but has a strong heartbeat. A mixture of morphine and hematide has been administered into the left arm of the creature and she remains stable. 

Despite her long frame, she has a petite torso and fine hair decorating her entire upper half. Subject has dark hair and green eyes. They seem to change to lilac under fluorescent lighting while her pupils dilate. She speaks in broken sentences, mostly garbled hums and high-pitched warbles.

Subject has webbed fingers and sharp nails. Subject also does not have a belly button nor any eyebrows.

Harry’s fingers freeze around the handle of his mug and he places it down onto the table shakily, taking another steady breath inwards. Outside the bin men are talking joyously as the disposal unit crunches in the distance while the neighbours next door are having yet another argument about who’s turn it is on the computer. But nothing registers, and Harry can only focus on the words standing stark against yellow stained paper below him.

~

September 7th 1989. 14:24pm.

Subject ‘Sally’ has been prepped for surgery. Subomunex was dispensed into the subject’s neck gills. We have found this to be most effective when operating on water-based creatures as it releases certain toxins and nutrients to ensure the subject can breathe without the need for H20.

Research into the common cold occurred almost one year ago, and we have found certain elements that make up a nereid’s larynx fight most, if not all symptoms of a ‘sore throat’. Today we shall create a medium incision into the subject’s neck muscle and remove the larynx, most commonly known as the voice box, from the subject’s throat. Delicate strands of tissue and muscle will be removed and sent to the Section B lab where it will be tested and if successful, dispensed into edible capsules and distributed among Pharmacies across the UK. 

A tiny proportion of the larynx’s genetic makeup will be extracted and re-created to ensure there is enough material for us to provide in the long term.

There’s a picture underneath the paragraph of what looks to be a theatre and Sally stretched out along a bed, four doctors are also in the photo, two standing either side of the creature and if Harry squints, he can see their smiles through their surgical masks.

~

“H-hello?”

There’s silence before the other person speaks.

“Uh…is this Harry?”

He doesn’t register the voice and his brows furrow in confusion, nose sniffling.

“Uh, yeah? Who’s this?”

“It’s um, Louis?” the voice replies, “I picked you up from the middle of the road, uh. About a week ago?”

God, has it really only been a week?

All of a sudden, his eyes widen in stark realisation and he clutches the phone tighter in the palm of his hand.

“Oh! God, I’m so sorry, hi. How are you?”

There’s a little huff of laughter and Harry imagines Louis’ eyes crinkling.

“Yeah, I’m alright, mate. Are you? You sound a little…off.”

Harry leans against the living room wall and rolls his head sideways, “uh,” he glances at the book, “just a sad film, proper got to me, had a little cry as you do.”

~

“I should probably leave.” Harry says, and carefully dislodges Cliff’s head from his leg, placing it down gently onto the couch cushion beneath him. He doesn’t even move, just wiggles his back slightly and twitches his paw from where it’s resting in mid-air.

“If this is about you dribbling on me, I really don’t care. I’ve had worse things on me.”

Harry’s blush darkens, and he mumbles out, “it’s not about the dribble thing, I just think I should go.”

He stands up and makes his way into the hallway, vaguely aware Louis is talking to him, but the words are muffled against the heavy sound of Harry’s beating heart. He grabs one of his shoes and slips it on his foot, patting down his chest and pockets, trying to search for his keys while shielding his face so Louis doesn’t see how red his cheeks have become.

“-think you should just stay the night.”

Harry’s in the middle of slipping on his other shoe, when he braces his arm against the wall to stop him from tripping up, and turns to face Louis who’s piercing Harry with his gaze, despite the warm flush that’s expanding across his face.

“What?”

“I said, I think you should just stay the night.”

“I-,”

“I don’t mean, um,” Louis huffs a laugh, a telltale pink blooming on his cheeks, “in my room, or anything. I meant the spare room again, if you want?” He places his hands into his jean pockets and rocks back a little on his feet, “it’s just really frosty outside, and dark, so I’d feel pretty shitty if I let you drive back now.”

“Lou-“

“Sorry if it sounds like I’m being pushy, I don’t mind, really! It’s just,” he sighs, lips pursing and fingers reaching out to scratch at the chipped paint on the wall, “I’d just hate for something to happen, y’know, like last time,” he murmurs quietly, a sad sort of smile sweeps across his lips and he looks down, shrugging his shoulders.

You’d think what happened that night fucked him up a little too.

Maybe it did.

After all, he was the one who made sure Harry was alright and pulled a bullet from his leg, right over where Harry casts his eyes into the kitchen.

~

He groans and lifts his body to sit upright, leaning down and massaging his leg with his hand. 

He drops his head forward and sighs, insides feeling like they were going to jump out of his skin any second and run off the excess energy without him. He stands up and stretches, fingers pointing upwards towards the ceiling while his back cracked along his spine. 

It felt like a shift, bones and muscles repositioning under flesh, like tectonic plates moving and slotting into the different crevices of his body. But it wasn’t time, and Harry had learned to control the urge quite early on after he’d found himself naked in the local park after a midnight stint, bleary eyes opening to find ducks quacking nervously in the pond and a jogger staring at him with his mouth hanging open; probably wondering what he was doing lying there nude at four in the morning. He wasn’t too far from home that he couldn’t sprint back in time that nobody else noticed him, covering his delicate parts with his hands as he ran through the streets in the milky morning light. 

His clothes had been torn to shreds and he doesn’t remember much, not a great deal of evidence either from the night before other than the dirt that had gathered underneath his fingernails and twigs in his hair. He also felt different somehow, as if his body finally relaxed into itself and took one huge breath out.

~

Louis slides the door fully open then and steps into the room, toes sinking into the plush carpet beneath him. He isn’t wearing anything other than his boxers and Harry’s very aware he’s in just the same. 

“Can’t sleep?”

Harry shakes his head, fingers spreading out along the bed and clutching at the tight bottom sheet, trying hard not to think about how Louis’ shut the door behind him, not fully, but just enough to bathe the majority of the room in moonlight and heavy whispers.

“Me neither.” Louis huffs, lips morphing into a small smile and feet shuffling forward. “Feel like my body’s just pent up, y’know? Usually I’m out like a light.”

“Same.” Harry replies. “My brain won’t switch off so I’ve just been,” don’t tell him you’ve been snooping, “counting sheep.”

“And the bang?” Louis laughs.

“Oh! Uh, I just got up for some water and tripped into the bedside table.”

Harry doesn’t think about how it’s becoming easier and easier to lie.

“Do you need anything for it?” Louis asks, coming closer as if trying to inspect Harry’s foot. His toes scrunch inward under the careful scrutiny, as if they don’t want Louis to see how unblemished they really are.

There’re only a few feet between them now and Harry can feel the sleepy heat radiating from Louis’s body, can count the chest hairs that sit between his pecs and can smell the fabric conditioner of his bed sheets caught up in the hairs on his arms.

“No, I think I’m good.” He swallows, throat clicking and fingertips twitching beside him as if they’re aching to reach out and feel just how soft Louis’ skin is underneath quivering patterns of swirly flesh.

“Okay.” Louis whispers, eyelids blinking slowly, heavy with heady want, tongue inching out to lick his dry lips.

[t-horn-n]

— happy ending

PAIRING: dabi x reader (gender-neutral) 

GENRE: mild-angst, fluff-ish

WARNINGS: implications of death and omnicide (the killing of all humans), smoking, cynicism

SUMMARY: it’s the end of the world, what can you do about it?

You always thought that the end of the world should be some beautiful last moment.  Maybe like a blinding light before the whole world explodes with some dramatic music coming from nowhere.  Maybe right before everything ends there should be some kind of feeling that fills the holes in your heart.  Some kind of wholeness and sense of place. 

But really, the end of the world was nothing special.  It was raining, so at least the movies were right in that respect.  The rain was sliding off of the floor of the balcony the next floor up, creating a shifting curtain as you came to stand next to Dabi.  He was leaning on the railing, a cigarette rolled between his index and middle fingers.  You didn’t bother to close the sliding door that led to your apartment.  

“That’s not good for your already torched lungs,” you said.  

He shrugged, “the world is ending, who cares?”  The city below you was in chaos, sirens wailed somewhere and people flooded the streets, pushing and shoving to get who knows where.  You weren’t even sure what the catalyst was, the power had gone out hours ago and it wasn’t like someone was going to call up two villains and tell them what the heck was going on.  Perhaps the earth was being swallowed by a black hole, that would be a sight to behold.  Or maybe all the people below you were actually zombies.  Though, with all of the quirks out there, you new zombies wouldn’t have caused such a panic.  

“Not me,” you replied and held out your hand.  A stream of smoke snaked out of his lips as he released a breathy laugh.  With one hand, Dabi reached into his pocket and brought out a pack of cigarettes.  A small blue flame danced on the tip of his pinky and you brought your head down to meet it.  The smoke that entered your lungs was acrid and horribly bad for you, but you were probably going to die either way. 

“What do you think it is?”  You asked Dabi.  Unconsciously, your hand circled around his wrist.  Your fingers glanced around his scars as you tapped each medical staple in turn.  

“Dunno,” in an instant he encased your hand with his.  “Maybe Twice finally lost it.” 

You laughed, throat raspy from smoke.  “Or Shigaraki, the crusty dude was always unstable.” 

“Nah, he isn’t talented enough to cause world destruction.” 

“And Twice is?” 

Dabi’s cigarette hissed when a stray raindrop hit the tip.  He sighed as he relit it.  “You know the only thing I’m going to miss about this sad world is you.” 

You smiled to yourself, eyes still watching the tiny figures of people below.  “Aw, is our little cremator going soft?” 

“Nevermind, I’ll throw you off this balcony and kill you myself before the world gets to.” 

“I would like to see you tr--” before you got to finish your sentence, a tremor went through the apartment building.  A chunk of plaster was shaken loose from the building across from you and your knuckles were white from gripping the rail.  You felt like you could feel your brains sloshing in your head and you accidentally bit your tongue.  

When the shaking stopped you met Dabi’s eyes, but neither of you said anything.  Instead, you laughed at his comically disappointed expression as he looked down to where he must have dropped his cigarette.  

“Stupid end of the world,” he grumbled as he rifled around for a replacement.  

“That’s not the song you were singing before.” 

“Shut it.” 

You exhaled rings of smoke that were snuffed by the rain when they wafted away.  “I’d like to see the heroes’ faces now.  Can’t do anything about this.” 

“I bet they think they can.  Probably got their panties all in a twist.” 

You snorted.  “Serves them right.” 

You leaned backwards over the railing, catching raindrops on your eyelashes.  If it wasn’t raining, it would probably look like you were crying.  Then before you could really gather your thoughts, the world started shaking again.  This time, much more violently.  And then you were falling.  

“Oh sh--” behind you, the metal rail had been torn from where it was bolted to the concrete floor.  For a second, you were suspended in mid-air, flying.  Then for the seconds after that, gravity had taken hold of you and you were falling backwards.  

Something cold grabbed your ankle and wrist.  The recoil of something stopping your descent caused you to hit your lower back on the crooked edge of concrete.  The wind was nearly knocked out of you.  

In a blur, you were yanked back and knocked your nose hard on the zipper of Dabi’s jacket.  Adrenaline pumped in your veins in time with the beat of your heart.  Both of you were breathing heavily and you were pretty sure the cut on your nose was bleeding.  

“Well, that was exciting,” you laughed. 

The two of you were laying somewhat entangled on the floor of your seventh floor balcony while the world came crashing down around you, and you were laughing.  How fitting.  

You were pretty sure that the glowing orange globes that you spotted out of the corners of your eyes were fires that hungrily ate through the city.  

“Hey, I said that I was going to throw you off the balcony.” 

“The world got jealous.  What can I say?  I’m just that awesome.” 

You let out a very dignified noise as he poked you in the side.  

“Because of you and your awesome I lost my smoke again.” 

“Your hard, difficult life.” 

“Well yes, my life was both hard and difficult.” 

“Was?”

“Look around us.” 

When you breathed in, the normal, pleasant smell of petrichor was obstructed by the smell of fire and the dust of rubble.  Neither of you bothered to get off the ground, you had just shifted so you were laying in the crook of his arm.  The next tremor came and the two of you did nothing but squeeze each others’ hands a little tighter. 

“Are you scared?”  You asked. 

“Yes,” you raised your eyebrows.  If anything was consistent about Dabi, it was his larger-than-life pride.  “But don’t tell anyone.” 

— m. list

[rosy-wooyoung]

It’s gonna be okay | p. sh

Pairing - boyfriend! Seonghwa x fem! reader Genre - mostly angst with a dash of fluff at the end, comforting Word count - 1.7k Warnings - stress, anxiety, [quite] dark thoughts, Seonghwa comforting the reader Songs I listened to while writing - worldstar money - joji / pluto projector - rex orange county / numb - xxxtentacion / slow dancing in the dark - joji

Leaning your forearms against the railing of your balcony, you watch the sunset as the wind softly blows your baby hairs away from your face. You deeply sigh, now feeling numb as you’ve cried for the past hours or so, you lost any notion of time. You were under a lot of stress and managing it wasn’t your strongest point. Heavy thoughts travelled in your brain, preventing you from relaxing and breathing properly. You pass your hands on your face, stopping in your hair as you contemplate your life choices and events. You shake your head in despair as your mind only brings up the negative points, tears welling in your eyes for the nth time tonight, almost surprising you that you still managed to cry with the number of tears that you’ve already shed since you came home. Closing your eyes, you breathe out and clench your jaw, trying to keep the tears in your eyes.

Nothing feels right. You are trying your best, yet you’re doing your worst job possible. You wish there were instructions on how to succeed in life and be happy, but it wouldn’t be so fun if everything were ruled and guided. You see your friends, relatives, siblings succeeding at life and you’re just here, stuck with your anxiety, struggles and worries. Everyone keeps telling you that everything will get better, but you’re starting to slowly lose hope. It feels like you’ve tried enough, you’ve given everything you had, yet nothing goes your way. And it’s still going now. Your mother keeps telling you over the phone that it’s faith, that you need to get through this to get stronger, and that everything will be okay, but you’ve stopped believing her a few months ago. 

You don’t even bother wiping the tears off your cheeks, letting the wind dry them. You are too tired to even do the simplest action ever; raising your hand and drag it on your face to wipe the salty water off your cold skin. You sigh another time, deeper and opened your eyes again, the sleepiness in your body making you slightly dizzy. You observe a black car driving in the underground garage of your building,  sirens resonated against the city’s buildings as you started to pick at your skin around your nails. This was a habit of yours when you were stressed and anxious, and, let’s be honest, your fingers have never been so damaged. Nails ruined, uneven, bloody skin surrounding them, small chunks of healing skin will be gone in a few seconds since another wave of stress was about to crash onto you.

Bringing a finger to your mouth to bite on the skin, a hand delicately wraps itself around your wrist, stopping you from doing any movement. The other arm rested on your waist, wrapping itself around it.

“Darling,” the low voice of your boyfriend resonates in your left ear. Turning around, you are met with concerned hazel eyes. Seonghwa drags the hoodie off your head, hair twirling around as he sets it free. His eyes landed into yours, as if they were trying to take the worries off your shoulders. You feel tears rolling down your cheeks as you look at him, finding a bit of solace and comfort in his presence.

He knows all about your stress. He tries his hardest to make you feel better, but even at times, his love and support aren’t powerful enough to help you think about something else. He doesn’t beat himself up because of it, he rather learns from it. He gives you space, welcomes you with open arms when you’re violently crying. He’s just here, being a rock for you when you need it. He has felt defeated a lot of times, but he remained strong for you. He knew that he is your anchor, you must not give up, and your boyfriend doesn’t want to let you down.

It’s something that never crossed his mind, not even once. Seonghwa wants to help you becoming happy again, he misses the genuine, innocent smiles you used to give him at the beginning of your relationship when everything was still going well. He takes your hand in his, - the one that is the most damaged -, and raises it to his mouth. His lips linger on the back of your hand, finally putting an end to the long kiss before looking back at you. You sigh and sniffle, pursing your lips to stifle another cry that hurt your chest.

“It’s okay to cry, Y/N, you know that you won’t get a reward for bottling all up,” Seonghwa slowly drags you to his chest, feeling his shirt getting wet as your tears kept falling from your eyes. “It’s okay to have darker days,” he whispers against your head as he softly soothes your back, bringing his hand up and down your spine. “But I’m tired of life!” you scream, but it is muffled by his chest, your body heaving up and down in his embrace, “I’m tired of living, of people telling me that it’s going to be alright, I’m tired of life throwing me obstacles and problems all the time, I wish I could get even a day of feeling great! I wish I could get better at everything,” your voice dies down as you end your sentence, your arms fall dangling, too weak to even do something. Seonghwa rubs your back soothingly, but it was to no avail, your cries wouldn’t die down.

"I know Y/N. I know your struggles, I see and hear about them. I wish I could do more about it, it hurts me to see you so much in pain, but I still love you. I know it might not help, but I’m staying by your side during those hard times and even after, we’re going to get through this together, I promise. You have my entire support. Even if it takes months, I won’t leave you all alone.” He takes a break from talking as your cries increase, your hands now fisting his brown t-shirt. “You’re not alone, I promise to help you as much as I can. It punches me in the heart whenever you’re in pain, I want to help you get better as quickly as possible. It’s hard to see you constantly suffering, but you only get stronger after all of this.” “Don’t you think I’ve endured enough? Don’t you think I’m tired of constantly living in pain, feeling like I’m getting dragged by life?” you whisper against his chest, feeling frustration building up in your heart. “Of course you are tired of this. You went through a lot but look at yourself, honey. You are much stronger than at the beginning of the year. You might not see it, but I do. You put up with a lot more than before, I promise that you are a lot tougher than before. Don’t lose hope, you’ve come already so far, you don’t want to give up now. You’re a strong girl, my strong girl, and we’re going to get you back onto your feet as quickly as possible, alright? Even if it takes time, I’ll help you,” you don’t say anything, so he caresses the back of your head and hums, as to ask you to confirm. You nod, but tears still roll down your cheeks, your eyes getting bloodier as you let your sadness invade your body.

“Promise that you won’t give up?” he asks, showing his pinkie to you. You weakly smile at the childish behaviour of your boyfriend but did it anyway. “As long as you stay by my side, I won’t give up,” you say as your voice come out groggily from crying, and Seonghwa leant in, delicately kissing you on the forehead. “I promise you that I won’t. Come on, let’s go inside now, it’s getting colder,” the sun had set a couple of minutes ago and the wind was getting stronger. You followed your boyfriend as he opened the glass sliding door to your living room. You welcome the warmth of the area with a sigh, sniffling as Seonghwa kept holding your hand. He draws you to the bathroom and opened the cabinet above the sink, grabbing a band-aids box. He gently smiles at you as he grabs the tube of antiseptic cream, dabbing some on your bloody fingers. You faintly grimace as it burns your cuts, making Seonghwa kiss your cheek before wiping the remaining of your tears away.

Once he finished wrapping every tip of your damaged fingers in bandages, he grabs your hand and strolls to your shared bedroom where he sits you on the bed before going to his wardrobe. He got out a pastel yellow hoodie, one of his item of clothing that you loved the most. He then walks back to you, unfolding it, sweetly ordering you to take off your sweater. After obeying, he passes his over your head, helping you stick your arms through the sleeves, dragging the fabric over your body. He sits on the bed with you, takes off his shirt and put on a pair of sweatpants before gesturing you to lay down, resting comfortably by your side.

“You need to rest now, tomorrow is another day, okay?” you nod and close your eyes, the laundry scent on your boyfriend’s hoodie already making you feel safe. Carefully, he wraps his arm over your waist and draws you to him, your face finding its spot back on his chest. You breathe in against his skin as you can catch the remaining of his perfume that he spritzed his shirt with this morning. “Thank you, Hwa,” you mumble, and his hand goes to your hair, fingers carding through a few wild strands as you can hear him softly chuckle. “It’s alright princess, you don’t have to thank me for any of this,” he murmurs and kisses your temple, keeping on massaging your scalp. He barely even has time to wish you goodnight that you cuddle further into his chest, the action in your hair and his body warmth bringing you enough peace to fall asleep in his arms, forgetting your worries for a few hours. Seonghwa slightly chuckles as he suddenly hears your regular breathing patterns, your exhaustion finally took over you, his hand soothingly working at the shallow end of your back. “Everything will get better, I promise.” He whispers, looking at you sleeping for a few seconds before closing his eyes, falling asleep in no time as well.

[themurphyzone]

Nova Ch 12

AN: I’ve been waiting to write this chapter for so long! Can you believe it’s been a year since I started this story? 

Ch 12: Mare

AO3 Link

Dear Mickey Mouse Calendar, 

It’s May 2nd, and you know what that means! Well, besides bringing May flowers of course! The flowers are going to be so beautiful this year, I can tell! Especially once they bring the butterflies and the birds and the bees! Oh dear, do you think Brain knows about the factory in the sky that produces cute little mouse babies? I hope so. 

Anyway, the beautiful, lovely, fantabulous Pharfignewton’s gonna be running in the Derby in just a little bit! She’s worked really really hard to get this far, and I’m super proud of her! She’s gonna be one step closer to the Triple Crown when she wins! 

Anyway, I’m running out of room on this page, so I just wanted to say I love you, Figgy Pudding! May the best mare win!

Love, 

Pinky 

o-o-o-o-o

Pinky added a heart by his name with a sparkly pink gel pen and blew a kiss to the image of Mickey and Minnie driving a cute little car into the sunset. Then he recapped the pen, washed his hands of extra glitter, and returned to the TV, which had been tuned into the Kentucky Derby for the past two hours. 

They were still conducting pre-race interviews with the owners, jockeys, and trainers. Though there were several saddled horses with colorful numbers in the background, none of them were Pharfignewton. 

But they were still very beautiful horses, clopping around on the dirt-covered track as they flicked their ears and tails in anticipation of the race.  

Several boxes of leftover pizza and paper plates were laid out in front of the television.. It was so nice of the scientists to throw a pizza party and let them have the leftovers! Pepperoni, mac and cheese, and pineapple pizza were all so delicious, and they tasted even better when all three were combined on a single slice! 

Pinky popped a pineapple cube in his mouth, giggling as it stung his tongue. Then he turned to his hat, which laid a short distance away from the leftover pizza so it didn’t get soiled. Lovely, glittery red and purple roses decorated the outside of the hat, and every inch was decked with colorful feathers, encouraging messages, and Pharfignewton’s name so everybody for miles around could see he was rooting for his favorite horse. 

Since the hat was too big and heavy for him to wear throughout the pre-race festivities, he decided to just put it on a few minutes before the race instead.

And it was so sweet of Gummy, Madame Daisy, Nicholas, and Mr. Button to support Pharfignewton! They were all gathered in front of the TV so they could watch the Derby too! 

Pinky’s ear twitched at a gagging noise on his left, and he turned his head just in time to see Brain spit a chunk of pineapple onto a napkin. 

“Of all things, why in Selene’s name would you ruin perfectly good cheese with battery acid?” Brain snapped. He immediately dunked his muzzle into a thimble of water. 

“Batteries aren’t a pizza topping,” Pinky said. Did batteries look like pineapples on New Selene? “And pineapple pizza tastes delicious!” 

Brain scowled as he shoved the paper plate with his barely touched pineapple pizza slice towards Pinky, then grabbed a new plate and loaded it with two slices of pepperoni. 

“I’m outlawing that vile piece of filth you call food as soon as I rule the world,” Brain declared. 

“You can’t do that!” Pinky cried. What was next? Declaring pumpkin spice illegal? He would never support such an awful law! “That’s...that’s just unconstitutional! A breach of power! I won’t stand for it, Brain!” 

Then he realized he was standing up to grab the pineapple pizza slice, so he promptly sat down and chomped on pineapple, tomato sauce, and bread to prove his point. 

Brain wrinkled his nose, but before he could reply, the TV panned to show a beautiful, gray-maned white horse prancing in circles around her jockey, nearly tying him up in her reins. 

“That’s her! That’s Pharfignewton!” Pinky yelled, spewing tomato sauce from his mouth. “Hi, Fig! It’s me, Pinky!” 

Pinky quickly set his pizza down and slipped the hat on, sitting underneath the brim while the rest of the hat was propped against the counter. He hoped Pharfignewton could see the messages he’d written. 

“The cameras aren’t two-way, Pinky,” Brain said, but Pharfignewton whinnied happily, so Pinky knew she could hear him from thousands of miles away! 

She wore a beautiful pink cloth over her back with the number fifteen emblazoned in white, with a brown saddle on top. She tossed her head back and whinnied, her reins quivering in the sunlight. Her jockey slipped a pink mask over her face, and when she turned to look at the camera, her gorgeous blue eyes stood out even more. 

“You have quite the unusual horse here, Mr. Gardner,” the reporter said to Pharfignewton’s owner, who Pinky recognized by his bushy beard. “Not much of a looker, nor was she sired from any famous line of racehorses. And only one fellow’s bet on her at all.” 

Pinky frowned. Not much of a looker? That reporter’s obviously never seen Pharfignewton with the wind flowing through her mane, or the joyful neighs whenever she galloped around a field, or how she practically glowed whenever she ran. 

Mr. Gardner leveled a glare at the reporter, who withered from the intense look. “Pharfignewton may have a different build from her fellow racehorses, but she’s a hundred times more passionate about racing than anyone else. It’s true that neither of her parents have competed on the national level, but she’s inherited her mother’s spirit and her father’s diligence, a mixture of traits which will suit her well today.” 

“Yes...I’m sure it will,” the reporter muttered. His eyes darted to a chestnut horse with a yellow cloth draped over his back. “Oh, would you look at the time? I don’t believe I’ve gotten a chance to talk with Mayoneighaise’s team yet!” 

He scurried off, the cameraman trailing behind him. 

A board flashed onscreen, showing the horses’ names and numbers before cutting to commercial. 

“Mr. Legs? Friendly Neighborhood Racehorse? Is this entire competition just an excuse to saddle these poor creatures with horrific names?” Brain asked over the noise of a car commercial. 

“You can’t saddle a name. You saddle horses, Brain,” Pinky said. Brain could be so confused sometimes. 

“And they barely gave Pharfignewton the time of day,” Brain added. “But they dedicated a full fifteen minutes to Arabian Night’s training sessions.” 

Pinky shrugged. “Well, Arabian Night worked really hard. He deserved that time. And so does Maximus and Maverick and Black Beauty and Rainbow Dash and-” 

“It’s blatant favoritism,” Brain cut in. 

The commercial break ended, and the broadcast showed a female reporter approaching an enormous, muscular black stallion with a comically small jockey leading him by the reins. He bore a royal purple cloak with number one written in a fancy golden script on his back. The horse was so dark that Pinky could barely see his eyes or mouth. 

“And here we have the clear fan-favorite, Daddy’s Little Angel,” the reporter declared as she carefully approached the horse, who huffed when she got too close to his muzzle. She pulled back, keeping her microphone close to her body. “An excellent track record locally and regionally, highest odds tonight, and a descendant of the famous Triple Crown winner Secretariat. He sure has a lot going for him, don’t you think?” 

Daddy’s Little Angel was stoic and handsome, and as his owner and trainer listed off his various accomplishments, Pinky crossed his fingers and toes for good luck. Pharfignewton had a whole lot of competition. Sure, she was the fastest racehorse around these parts, but in the Derby she was a small goldfish in a large aquarium full of other fish. 

“Zort! Nope, can’t think like that!” Pinky said, thumping his head with his fist. He didn’t want to have doubts about her talent! She was the best, the swiftest, and the fastest at eating apples and hay! There’s no way she could lose! 

“Quiet, Pinky. I’m trying to listen,” Brain said. His pink eyes gleamed with interest as a montage of Daddy’s Little Angel’s previous feats flashed across the screen. “I wouldn’t be opposed to owning a horse like that for ceremonial purposes.” 

“Parading around on Pharfignewton sounds lovely,” Pinky sighed dreamily. 

He imagined Pharfignewton in a beautiful golden outfit, bells on her reins, and prancing down the street to a cheering crowd while he rode on her back. And there were pretty parade floats and celebrities singing and giant balloons of all his favorite characters! 

He was broken out of his fantasy by the sound of a fanfare. 

“Attention, all riders and horses! Clear the track and proceed to your stalls! The race will commence shortly!” the announcer declared. 

The camera lingered on Daddy’s Little Angel for just a little longer before panning out for a wide shot of the horses and jockeys making their way to the starting point, the trainers leading the horses by the reins and securing them in the stalls. 

Fifteen horses dressed in colorful racing garb whinnied and bucked their hind legs in anticipation of the race. Daddy’s Little Angel was in the first stall, the one nearest to the fence. Next to him, a majestic, stout white horse named Maximus took the number two slot. Like Daddy’s Little Angel, he was poised, calm, and determined to win. 

Most of the other horses were far more impatient though. Rainbow Dash wouldn’t quit stomping in her stall, and Maverick gave her a warning nip when her tail flicked him one too many times. She didn’t like that at all, and both jockeys fought to get their horses under control. 

A cinnamon stallion named Spirit thrashed in his stall, nearly throwing his rider off multiple times while two other people tried to calm him down. 

Then they finally showed Pharfignewton. She was in the stall closest to the stands, and while she was penned securely, the workers were all focused on the skittish racehorses. 

Pharfignewton flashed a horsey smile to the audience, then lowered her head in anticipation for the race to begin. 

Pinky’s fingers, toes, and tail were all crossed. She had to win! This was her dream ever since she was a little filly!

“And they’re off!” the announcer declared as the bell rang and the gates opened. All fifteen horses galloped out of the stalls, kicking up dirt as their hooves thundered against the ground. “Daddy’s Little Angel and Maximus off to an early lead! Horsin’ Around’s pulling ahead of Tricky Mickey and...oh! Spirit’s bucked his jockey! That’s gonna cost everyone behind ‘em some time!” 

The names and number display at the bottom of the screen shifted around as horses pulled ahead or fell behind. 

Pinky’s muscles tensed as Pharfignewton swerved to avoid a riderless Spirit, though Achilles’ Heel was unlucky enough to be caught on a back ankle by a flailing hoof. Pharfignewton fell behind Mr. Legs and Mayoneighase for a split second before increasing her speed and passing them as they reached the first turn.

Pharfignewton was truly in her element! Like a happy, gusty wind spirit! 

“YOU CAN DO IT, FIG!” Pinky screamed at the top of his lungs, and there was an angry shushing noise, followed by a parmesan packet smacking the side of his head. “Thanks for the parmesan, Brain!” 

“Onto the second turn!” the announcer continued. “Daddy’s Little Angel and Maximus neck and neck! Rainbow Dash and Arabian Night fighting for third a mere two lengths away! Maverick trying to squeeze in but there’s no room! Hold onto your fancy hats, folks, this is shaping up to be a wild race!” 

Egad, he didn’t want to lose his fancy hat! Pinky clutched the edges with cheese-stained fingers. 

“Daddy’s Little Angel and Maximus still leading the pack, but trailing them is Black Beauty and Grand Chawhee! Rainbow Dash and Arabian Night have fallen to fifth and sixth! Friendly Neighborhood Racehorse trying for a comeback while Maver-what’s this? Pharfignewton’s clawing her way up from tenth, ninth, eighth, seventh...now she’s passed Rainbow Dash! Ladies and gents, this could be the biggest recovery in the Derby’s history!” 

Oh, if only he remembered where he’d placed his cotton ball pom-poms! They’d come in super handy right now! 

Black Beauty and Grand Chawhee slowed down on the final turn, enabling Pharfignewton to easily overtake them for third place. Then she poured on the speed, closing in between Daddy’s Little Angel and Maximus.

“NARF! GO, PHARFIGNEWTON!” Pinky screeched, his hat tumbling off as he leapt to his feet. If he screamed loud enough, Pharfignewton could hear him all the way in Kentucky! And the power of friendship always worked for last-minute wins! His cartoons were never wrong! 

“It’s a straight shot to the finish! Maximus falls back by half a length! Ladies and gents, could this be the greatest upset in horse racing history? It’s Pharfignewton! No, Daddy’s Little Angel pulls ahead! Now Pharfignewton! Daddy’s Little Angel!” 

Brain was quiet, but from the twitch of his pointed ears and the way he leaned forward, Pinky knew he was just as invested in the race. 

The camera centered on the finish line, but Pinky couldn’t tell who crossed first. Pharfignewton and Daddy’s Little Angel galloped offscreen just as the rest of the pack, led by Maximus, finished after them. 

“WHAT’S THIS? PHARFIGNEWTON AND DADDY’S LITTLE ANGEL HAVE CROSSED THE FINISH LINE AT THE SAME TIME! TURNING THE FOOTAGE OVER FOR REVIEW SO WE CAN DECLARE THE WINNER!”

Pinky quickly found that crossing his toes while standing wasn’t the best idea. He fell flat on his face, but quickly pushed himself up on his elbows as the Derby logo flashed by and replayed the last few seconds of the race in slow motion. 

Pharfignewton and Daddy’s Little Angel’s legs were just one giant blur next to the finish line, but the reel paused on a shot of Pharfignewton’s flaring nostril crossing the line before Daddy’s Little Angel’s front hooves touched it. 

Pinky sucked in his breath. 

“PHARFIGNEWTON HAS BEEN DECLARED THE WINNER! CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR VICTORY OVER THE 141ST KENTUCKY DERBY!” 

“She did it! She did it! Lo hicimos, she did it!” Pinky jumped for joy, his heart soaring in excitement for Pharfignewton. She was three years old and she’d accomplished so much! He was super duper extra proud of her! 

Brain rolled his eyes, but there was a tiny quirk at the corner of his mouth. “Yes, it seems all your supportive efforts have paid off.” 

Pinky grinned and tore off a cardboard flap of the pizza box, dumped parmesan cheese all over it, and stuffed it into his mouth.

Nothing tasted better than a victory pizza box with parmesan! 

“Want some?” Pinky offered a second flap to Brain. “It’s delicious!” 

Brain made a gagging noise. “That can’t possibly be good for your digestive system, Pinky.” 

Oh well. More for him then! 

Pharfignewton’s back was draped with beautiful roses, her team of humans all rushing up and hugging her as journalists bombarded them all with questions and photographers snapped photo after photo of her horsey smile. 

Daddy’s Little Angel trotted up to her with a flower crown in his mouth and dropped it onto her head, then drummed the ground steadily with a front hoof in his version of applause. All the other horses followed his lead. Even Spirit and Achilles’ Heel, who were being restrained by a team of trainers, gave their approval. Pharfignewton whinnied in delight, tossing back her head and showing off the beautiful crown. 

She really was the best. Pinky clutched his chest, that warm gooshy feeling of love spreading throughout his body. 

He couldn’t contain it much longer, and he picked up Brain to let it all out, and he danced around in joy with a squirming Brain in his arms. 

“Pinky, I understand that this outcome is most favorable, but I demand that you cease this at once!” Brain complained. 

But Pinky barely heard him. He was more interested in what Mr. Gardner had to say. 

“Pharfignewton did an amazing job and we’re very proud of her,” Mr. Gardner said as he fed Pharfignewton an apple, which she gladly inhaled. “Running’s in her blood, and I’m sure she’s made her parents very proud in equine heaven. She’s definitely gonna take the Preakness and Belmont by storm.” 

“You think she’s capable of gaining Triple Crown status?” the reporter asked. 

Pharfignewton neighed loudly in her direction, messing up the reporter’s hair. 

As the reporter struggled to fix it, Mr. Gardner smiled. “I think she made it clear that she takes what she wants.” 

Two more races for the Triple Crown. Right. 

Pinky stopped dancing, an odd but featherlight weight in his arms. In his excitement, he’d forgotten that Pharfignewton had to win the Preakness and Belmont for her dream to come true. 

It wasn’t that she couldn’t do it. She was a swift runner and the best racehorse in the world. But she would be gone for several months. All the way on the other side of the country. 

And he wanted her to achieve her dream so bad. To rank up there with the great racehorses of old. 

“Pinky?” a voice choked. 

He was accidentally squishing one of Brain’s antennae. Oops. 

“Sorry, Brain,” Pinky quickly said, putting his friend down. 

Instead of stepping away like Pinky expected, Brain remained where he was. Brain was too good at forming unreadable expressions. His pretty pink eyes seemed concerned though. 

“This is a momentous occasion, isn’t it?” Brain asked. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating?” 

Was that Selenian speak for happy? 

Yeah, he was supposed to be happy. Pharfignewton won. He was really happy for her. He didn’t want Pharfignewton to think he was a bad friend because he was sad about not seeing her for a while. 

“Of course I’m happy for her,” Pinky said. But it was flimsy even to his own mousey ears. 

Brain didn’t seem convinced either. One hand awkwardly hovered in the space between them. 

A little touch would be nice, and he held super still so Brain wouldn’t get spooked. But a tapping at the window broke Brain’s trance, and upon the sight of a hovering black camera with the Selenian logo on its side, he quickly pulled away. 

“Correspondence from Snowball,” Brain said. His ears flattened briefly before returning to their normal position. Maybe he regretted breaking their closeness too. “I’m taking this.” 

He wiped his fingers on a wet cloth before unlatching the window. The camera darted in once the window was open, its tripod claws dropping an unmarked envelope into Brain’s hands before flying off into the brilliant evening sky. 

Well, it could’ve had pizza if it stayed just a little longer. 

Pinky moved behind Brain as he tore open the envelope and unfolded the note inside, which was written in a neat script. 

Pickup at seven pm tomorrow. Don’t be late. 

-Snowball

“Well, it’s better than nothing,” Brain sighed. “I’ll make sure we have everything required for tomorrow night, Pinky.” 

He didn’t wait for a reply. He only disappeared into a hidden drawer where all their belongings were stored. 

The masquerade ball was important. He shouldn’t keep Brain from making sure they saved the invitation so they could get in. 

And it would be nice to wear that beautiful dress Sharon picked out. 

But there was an ache in his chest. One that gnawed at his heart, and he didn’t want that icky feeling gnawing at his heart. Pinky sat in front of the TV and focused on Pharfignewton’s happiness instead. He pushed away the pizza, the box tasting like cardboard on his tongue. 

If she was happy, he was happy. And wasn’t that all he needed?

End AN: So as a little treat I snuck some fictional horse names in here. I mean, obviously you know Pharfignewton as Pinky’s equine girlfriend. Daddy’s Little Angel is the name of the horse Brain rode in the OG Animaniacs episode Jockey for Position.

Grand Chawhee’s name is a reference to All Dogs Go to Heaven. Tricky Mickey comes from the 1978 movie Casey’s Shadow, which I caught my family watching a few weeks ago and I just decided to borrow a name from the movie.

Rainbow Dash from My Little Pony, Maximus from Tangled, Black Beauty from the book of the same name, Spirit from the Dreamworks movie, and Achilles’ Heel is a reference to Phoebus’ horse in Disney’s Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Mr. Legs’ name provided by Boxy. Thank you, Boxy. Snuck in Pinky actually eating a pizza box for ya lol.

Final placements for the Derby are:

1. Pharfignewton 2. Daddy’s Little Angel 3. Maximus 4. Grand Chawhee 5. Black Beauty 6. Rainbow Dash 7. Arabian Night 8. Friendly Neighborhood Racehorse 9. Mr. Legs 10. Maverick 11. Horsin’ Around 12. Tricky Mickey 13. Mayoneighase 14. Achilles’ Heel (never finished) 15. Spirit (never finished)

Next chapter will finally have the Masquerade Ball and boy do I have plans. It’ll definitely be longer than this one. But this chapter at least wraps up the Derby subplot.

[philanthropicfeline]

Ways to keep a nail biter happy...

It's easy to say "stop biting your fingers" with a little smack to top it off. I can laugh nervously, with fingers still in my mouth, and reply with a quiet thanks.

*bites on thumb*

With that, I can also walk to another part of the room and continue biting. Oh the pain and even more pain...(did ya think I was going to say pleasure? Hehe) sure there's some temporary satisfaction when it comes to the biting but the painful aftermath is not pleasant.

*rips a chunk of skin off thumb*

So why do I do it if it hurts so much? I do it because my brain is sneaky.

*starts chewing on pinky *

Of course I don't want to inflict such grotesque wounds upon my hands, my issue is that I don't even realize what I've done to my skin tissue, until someone points it out or the hurt kicks in. It's embarrassing, to leave bloody evidence on things i touch or when people point out the numerous bandages on the wounded. But as much as id like to think vanity can save me from this teething dilemma, it's sad to admit that it won't, or hasn't. *licks the blood from my nail bed*

So, as my fingers bleed onto the keyboard, let's think of ways to keep a severe nail biter happy. *rips, chews, and gnaws on hands* Hmm let me bite on it, I mean, sit on it for a bit and I'll get back to you on how to keep a nail biter happy.