#for completely unrelated reasons I can’t breathe

[manicali]

Rewatching Hazbin because I don’t have a soul

[pochipop]

＃HOMICIPHER !! ♡ — DWELLING, ROTTING, SURVIVING (MR CRAWLING X READER).

#. synopsis! — speaking isn't the only way to understand, and he's oh so gentle .

#. characters! — mr crawling .

#. warnings! — canon-typical dark content + setting .

#. word count! — 1.7k .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @hhoneypop (moodboards) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

#. a/n! — hi, i posted, please stop bullying me in my inbox :(( - all jokes aside, thank you guys for all the nice messages and compliments! & happy pride to my lgbt followers! funnily enough, don't think i've ever "come out" on this blog, but if it's not obvious, i'm bisexual lol so there's that!

You found yourself pressed against a cold, damp wall in what you could only assume was a room close to the belly of this labyrinth-like building. Breaths came in shallow, frightened gasps as the lights overhead flickered ominously, like they were trying to warn you of impending danger. . . Danger that you felt sting your chest like needles poking through your skin. The oppressive silence surrounding you was broken only by your intakes of air and the soft, almost imperceptible sound of something —or someone— (or maybe a mixture of the two, in this God-forsaken place) nearby.

Squinting into the gloom, a familiar shape emerged from the dark hallway, slipping into the room with you and pausing in the doorway. You felt relief take hold of you.

Mr Crawling. . .

That, of course, likely wasn’t his real name, but you didn’t speak in the language of clicks, noises, and chirp-like sounds that he did, and he didn’t speak with your tongue either. It was for that reason in particular that you’d bludgeoned his head with a crowbar not long ago, to which he sulked in a corner, bleeding and whining, and you were left to feel terrible for hurting the first entity that had tried to go out of his way to show you true empathy in a way you understood.

Apologizing didn’t even begin to feel like enough. Probably because you were at least ninety percent sure he didn’t understand what you were saying anyway. Helping him with the wound perhaps made it slightly better. . . But also not really, because even now as he skims across the ground to where you are, there’s a sense of guilt that weighs heavy on your heart.

Pale, grey-skinned and moving like any non-human mammal of sorts, his face is mostly obscured by the long, stringy black hair that falls in vine-like, clumped strands all the way to the floor from his hunched position. There’s an unsettling, animalistic grace to the way he approaches, but you don’t flinch this time when he puts the flat of his cold palm against the crown of your head, as if trying to soothe your breathing. All of that initial fear has been replaced by a strange comfort of sorts, and you look up at him, thankful for his presence now more than ever.

He tilts his head, as if listening for something, and you watch him warily with the same crowbar clutched in your fist. A part of you felt bad carrying it around like that with his blood still smeared on it, but here, you knew it was foolish to venture around without a weapon of some sort. Not protecting yourself for the sake of his feelings was, unfortunately, not an option as far as you were concerned, but thankfully he didn’t seem to have any opinion on the matter.

“Mr Crawling,” you whisper softly, reaching out to take his hand into your own.

He seemed to really respond to physical touch, and if language was always going to get in the way, you figured it was best to bridge the gap in another manner. This was the next best thing you could think of.

His head raises, and you suppose he’s trying to meet your gaze, though you can’t see his eyes through the mess of his hair.

“I need to understand you,” you say.

Ironically, that’s a bit of a hopeless endeavor in this sort of environment. It’s not like you have all the time in the world to pick up a new, completely unrelated language to yours while fighting for your life. Still. . . Gesturing had been helpful previously, especially for directions. The hooded figure you ran into first was quick to point around, that severed hand that had guided you for a bit was just as poignant in that area, and the silver-haired entity with a blindfold over his eyes had also tried to communicate with you in that sense as well. So why couldn’t you do it vice-versa?

“Me,” you point to yourself, “you,” you point to him.

He stared blankly for a moment, then seemed to come to an understanding. His had retracted from your head to point at himself, then to you, a clicking noise coming from the back of his throat. You smile. It was a small victory amongst a series of devastating losses, but you were keen on taking it and running with it as far as you could stretch it.

“Okay,” you breathe, talking more to yourself than to him. “Let’s try this then. . .”

Feeling a surge of determination, you touch your stomach and then mime eating.

“Hungry. Eat.”

At this point, you were still too anxious to have an appetite, but you knew you’d need food eventually. You were hoping he’d be able to help you with that somehow. Up until this point, you hadn’t seen any evidence of there being food around here, —no containers, boxes, or wrappings, but he seemed to understand your gestures and mimicked you; sitting back on his knees to rub his stomach through his filthy t-shirt, then nibbling on an imaginary item.

He looks back to you, as if seeking approval. You smile, hoping he understands that to be a sign of good will, then nod your head to drive home the association. Beneath his swath of hair, he smiles too, and you catch a glimpse of his eyes through the curtain of black strands; dark and thoughtful.

“Good,” you murmur, feeling slightly relieved. 

If nothing else, this was progress. You spend a while longer trying to communicate basic needs and warnings: things like yes, no, stop, come, drinking, sleeping, and a thank you in the way of patting his head. You’re not sure he understood the depth of it by any means, but he did seem to enjoy it. . . Like a puppy. The thought made you smile genuinely and absentmindedly, if only for a moment. The clicks and chirps he makes are mostly lost on you, but the noises are comforting nonetheless. This rudimentary bridge of understanding soothes you just a little, and you find yourself feeling very thankful that he’s here in the first place.

He has your face cupped in his hands now, as if he’s inspecting you. . . Or perhaps admiring? That is, until you feel his body tense and all his little sounds abruptly come to a halt. A small growl reverberates from the back of his throat and his wide smile droops into a frown. Suddenly, he’s roughly dragging you along, tugging urgently on your arms, to which you comply and follow along with him, scooting across the floor until you reach a shadowed alcove. You hadn’t even noticed it before, but he seems to know his way around this place like the back of his cold, grey hand.

He covers your mouth for a moment, then shakes his head. You cover your mouth, take your hand away, then shake your head no, just to ensure to him that you’ve understood. He pats your head then crouches in front of you, using his own body as a makeshift shield for yours. His long, spindly arms cage you against the wall. Fear rises inside you once again, though not because of him and his actions. Rather, the faint, rhythmic thuds of footsteps have begun reverberating through the hall just outside, and you recognize the harrowing pattern they click in.

Mr Scarletella.

You encountered him once before and felt every hair on your body stand on end. The way he moved through the halls with a menacing flow that sounded almost eerily melodic, and the strange, unsettling red glow that seemed to exude off him that nearly drew you in like a moth to a flame. The steps echoed off the walls of the building and your heart began to hammer against your ribs. Mr Crawling moved closer as he came into view through the doorway that lacked any actual door to close, his long, black hair tickling your nose ever so softly. Dressed in scarlet and carrying his ever-present umbrella, you decide quite readily that you’ve seen enough, closing your eyes and focusing on the cool feel of Mr Crawling’s skin, on his musky scent (like mildew and a bit of rot, which isn’t necessarily pleasant, but it’s not like he can really help it down here.)

Though you’re no longer watching, the entity dripping in scarlet moves with an unsettling, almost predatory grace, glancing about the corridors as if he’s searching for something. Or someone.

Once again, Mr Crawling presses closer to you. Now, you’re able to feel the way his body trembles with fear, and you realize that he’s just as terrified as you are, though you can’t tell if that fear is for himself, for you, or for both of you at once. And it’s not like you can ask. Still, you open your eyes just long enough to look up at him, Mr Scarletella in your peripheral as you force a smile and touch the crown of Mr Crawling’s head, offering what little comfort you can. He still quivers, but seems to appreciate the gesture, though he doesn’t risk a happy chirp.

The danger passes as the man in scarlet disappears down the hallway, then turns the corner. You let out a silent sigh of relief and Mr Crawling relaxes after several moments of continued tension, finally going limp and releasing you from against the wall. He slumps onto his knees, which seems to be his most comfortable position, and he looks at you clearly through the darkness. In that moment, it feels like you’ve understood one another perfectly. 

“Thank you,” you whisper sincerely, though you know he can’t really understand you.

You’re just hoping the gratitude comes across somehow, but at the risk that it won’t, you touch your chest over top of where your heart’s still beating like a drum, then touch his chest in the same place. It dawns on you that you don’t feel a heartbeat at all, and you almost pull your hand away. . . But something stops you. Something that says even if you’re right and he’s something less (or more) than human, —it doesn’t matter as much as the kindness he’s shown you. So your hand lingers until you softly pull away.

He grabs your cheeks again and holds them delicately.

[haikyu-mp4]

Glowing

word count; 1047 – gn!reader, a bit suggestive

Hoshiumi Korai always wanted to be tough. To win everything. Some would call it a need to be ‘manly’ enough, but he just always had something to prove. In a weird way, it was one of the things that made you feel drawn to him while you were dating. His drive and competitive tendencies, as well as the little frown he did when he lost or got embarrassed. It was all attractive to you.

Completely unrelated, you cared a lot for your skin with a semi-intricate skincare routine every night. Korai, who you recently moved in with after being partners for a few years, would often stay in the bathroom while you did your routine, brushing his teeth for a little longer just so he could watch you and maybe throw out a question or two. Like why are there two soaps? Why are there different serums for different days? And then once a week, after you put on a face mask, he would pull you into his lap on the couch and complain about how you didn’t let him have any kisses. Instead, he settled for holding you closer and tickling your neck with kisses. Living together was pretty great.

One day he finally gave in. You both just finished drying off after a heated shower in each other’s company, when you started putting on this week’s face mask. Korai looked at you in the mirror with a soft frown as he snaked his arms around your waist and cuddled into your neck. It had been a long week, he was so tired from this damn sport he loved so much and felt a little extra thankful today that he got to come home to you. So when you asked “You want a face mask as well?” like you always did, he let out a small sigh before giving in.

“Yes, I do.”

After the short process of getting the mask on for each of you, trading giggles with hesitant grimaces, you both sat on the couch with a timer on your phone and some movie you had watched before on the TV. You even convinced him to put on a cute frog headband to keep his hair away from his face.

While you sat with your legs across his lap and told him about one of your colleagues’ gossip, he looked at his phone and picked it up when it rang. He just glanced at the name of the caller, too into your story to check anything else. Korai hummed as you slowed down your talking to see who it was as well.

“I’ll just check what he wants,” Korai mumbled. The two of you had taken so many cute selfies with the masks on that he didn’t realise the reason he could see the two of you on his screen now was because it was a video call.

Korai seemed to choke on his breath when his screen suddenly showed Kageyama and Hinata with a small image of you and him in the corner. Wearing... face masks and headbands. The girly kind. During Korai’s shock, there was unfortunately time for the man on the other line to fumble his way to the screenshot buttons.

“Idiotyama!! Why would you video me on a Friday evening?” Korai yelled, handing the phone to you and letting his head fall back against the sofa in humiliation. There goes my whole image, he thought dramatically. He couldn’t even cover his face with his hands in shame and instead just pointed an empty stare at the ceiling.

“Me and Kageyama needed to settle something but now I can’t remember what it was. Oh, hi y/n!” the orange-haired man said cheerfully. With a sweet smile, you held a short conversation with them before hanging up. Phone on the table, you put your arms back around your boyfriend’s neck and wondered what you should say. He put his arms loosely around you and waited in silence for you to find the right words.

“I think you look very pretty.”

Hinata and Kageyama had learnt a thing or two about teasing from their older teammates, and you bet the screenshot of you and Korai in pink face masks was sent to the Japan Olympic group chat with a nice ‘hope everyone is enjoying a relaxing weekend just like the little giant!’

Let’s just say you were struggling to hold back your laughter while you finally helped him wash the mask off after the timer went off. Korai was silent, keeping his eyes closed until you pressed a kiss to his freshly washed cheek when you were done. “Wearing a face mask isn’t embarrassing, Korai,” you told him, sneaking your hands under his shirt to warm them.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he sighed, unintentionally pouting like a little boy and tracing his hands around to squeeze your bum like stress balls. Of course, the others didn’t actually care that much if any of the guys used a face mask, it’s just so funny because it’s Korai. He always takes the bait when they tease him.

So as you two finally curled up in bed, you let him spoon you this time with his strong arms curling around you. It made him feel a bit better as you cuddled into him. The morning after was spent cosying up under the sheets and enjoying each other’s bodies before going on your routine weekend jog together. Everything seemed back to normal.

Except that your boyfriend was plotting for the best revenge against his friends.

please excuse the timeline ignorance between the Adlers and the Olympics, it's just a little bonus because I love the Adlers trio

Monday came and Korai went off to work early in the morning. He put the lunch you packed him in his bag and pecked your lips before he was out the door.

“You’re glowing, Hoshiumi.” Kageyama tried his luck early on during warm-ups.

“What am I, pregnant?” Korai spat back. Kageyama just kept smiling at his own joke.

Ushijima switched which arm he was stretching and observed Hoshiumi. “Your skin does look refreshed, maybe we should all get face masks with y/n.”

“I know it does but get your own partner, man.” He just mumbled, moving away to warm up with a ball on the other side of the court. They were so going to get it for teasing him one day.

masterlist

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Between The Ropes… a Jey Uso x Rhea Ripley fic.

Chapter 17: Up Up

It was Tuesday, September 24, 10:21 AM. The sun was just starting to warm the driveway as Jey and Jon were in the middle of a grueling workout in Jon’s garage gym. Kanye West's music blared through the speakers, filling the space with intensity. Both twins were drenched in sweat, their muscles aching as they pushed through their set of chin-ups. The garage smelled of iron and effort, with heavy breathing mingling with the bass of the music.

Jey’s mind was still foggy from the early morning flight. He and Rhea had barely gotten into Orlando at 4 AM, and all she wanted to do was crash into bed. Jey had tried to sleep in, but Jon wasn’t having it. At 9:30, Jon had nudged Jey out of his dreams for a workout, and after some resistance, Rhea, still half asleep, had playfully shoved him off the bed, grumbling for him to "just go."

Now, here they were, in the heat of it, with no sign of slowing down. As they were about to finish their set, the music cut off abruptly, replaced by the familiar ring of FaceTime on Jey's phone. Annoyed, Jey rolled his eyes, wiped his hands on his shorts, and glanced at the screen. It was Damian.

"Bruh," Jey muttered, swiping to answer. "You messin’ up the vibe, D."

Damian's face filled the screen, unimpressed. He rolled his eyes dramatically. "Whatever, man. Listen, what are you doing for Rhea's birthday?"

Jey froze mid-rep, his muscles tensing for a reason completely unrelated to the workout. His face went pale as if the weight of Damian’s words hit harder than any barbell. Jon, who was pushing himself through the last of his chin-ups, burst into uncontrollable laughter, nearly falling off the bar.

“Bro, what?!” Jon cackled. "You don’t even know her birthday?!"

Jey shot him a look that could kill. “Shut it, man!”

Damian’s face was filled with disbelief. He let loose a stream of curses in rapid Spanish, his frustration showing even through the phone screen.

Jey snapped. “Yo, ENGLISH, Damian! I can’t deal with this right now!”

Damian sighed, clearly irritated. “You’ve been with her for how long, and you don’t know her birthday? It’s October 11th, Jey. That’s like, in two weeks. Right after we get back from Bad Blood. Get it together, bro!”

Jey’s eyes widened, panic flooding his chest. He hadn't even thought about her birthday, let alone made any plans. His mind was racing now. How could he not have asked about something so important?

Jon, still chuckling, came up behind him, slapping Jey on the back. “You are in so much trouble, man.”

Jey muttered under his breath, feeling the pressure settle in. Damian, now calmer, leaned into the camera, his voice stern but supportive.

“Listen, you’ve got time to plan something, but don’t screw this up. Rhea deserves the world, and I know you want to give it to her. I’ll help if you need it, but start thinking about what she likes, where she’d want to go, and... you know, maybe ask her this time.”

Jey nodded, still in shock but grateful for the wake-up call. “Yeah, man... thanks. I’ll figure something out. For real.”

Damian gave him a hard look, then hung up, leaving Jey standing there, still holding his phone like it was about to explode.

Jon, ever the instigator, grinned and threw an arm around Jey’s shoulders. “You better start thinking fast, lil bro. Rhea doesn’t seem like the type to let a missed birthday slide.”

Jey groaned, running a hand over his face. “Man, I’m so screwed.”

—

After Jey wrapped up his workout, he grabbed a towel and headed straight for the shower. The cold water was a welcome relief, washing away the sweat and the weight of his sudden birthday realization. As the steam filled the bathroom, his thoughts were racing—he had to come up with something special, something that would blow Rhea away.

Once he finished, Jey changed into a fresh set of clothes and made his way through Jon’s house. His youngest son, Jeyce, was out with Trinity and his cousins, running errands and picking up supplies for the movie night Trinity had planned for later. The house was quieter than usual, and it gave him a rare moment to check in on his older son, Jaciyah.

Jey walked down the hallway and stopped in front of the door to the guest room where Jaciyah was staying. He knocked softly, but there was no response. Slowly, he cracked the door open, careful not to disturb his son if he was still sleeping. What he saw warmed his heart.

Jaciyah was fast asleep, tucked under the covers with Rhea’s three dogs curled up around him. The oldest dog, sitting right by Jaciyah’s side, had its head resting on his arm, and Jaciyah had draped an arm around the dog protectively, as if they were lifelong companions. The other two dogs were nestled at the foot of the bed, content and unmoving, like they had found their new favorite spot.

Jey smiled to himself, closing the door as quietly as he could. Seeing his son so comfortable with Rhea’s dogs made something inside him soften. It was a small reminder that their worlds were blending more and more each day, even in the most unexpected ways.

He made his way back down the hall toward the guest room where Rhea was still fast asleep. As soon as he entered, he stifled a laugh—Rhea had completely taken over the bed. She was sprawled out, half the blankets tangled around her legs, her arm stretched out across the mattress. Jey had grown used to her sleeping like this, but it never failed to make him smile.

He walked over to the vanity and took a seat, careful not to make too much noise. Pulling out his phone, he opened the notes app and scrolled down to the file he had been updating for months. It was simply titled, Rhea. Inside, he had jotted down every little detail he had learned about her—the things that made her smile, her favorite bands, fast food orders, what movies she loved, her favorite snacks, and random little quirks he picked up on.

His eyes scanned through the list as he tried to think of what he could do for her birthday. He tapped his fingers on the screen absentmindedly, reading through each entry.

- Favorite fast food: In-N-Out (Double-Double, no onions, animal-style fries, chocolate shake) and Pizza Hut (Hawaiian Style Pizza with Brownies)

- Favorite band: Motionless in White (but she has a secret soft spot for The 1975).

- Favorite color: Black (but sometimes she likes dark purple for her nails).

- Favorite movie: She won’t admit it, but she keeps watching The Great Gatsby. But I’ve noticed she only plays it whenever she is sad or mad, make a mental note to ask her why.

Rhea always tried to play it cool, but deep down, she had her sentimental side. And then there were the little things she did every day—how she loved walking barefoot when she thought no one was looking, or how she’d hum softly when she was thinking.

But what could he do to make her birthday unforgettable?

As Jey continued scrolling through his notes, an idea started forming. He knew she loved simple things—time with the people she cared about, music, and food. Maybe it didn’t have to be some grand gesture, but rather something personal, something that showed her he truly saw her.

He opened a new note and started typing:

- Birthday plan ideas:

1. Private dinner at the beach, somewhere quiet.

2. Rent a classic car for a day (something from *The Great Gatsby* era—she’d love that).

3. Get the family together, make it low-key but intimate—she loves being around the people she cares about.

4. Propose.

He paused, thinking about how she had lost their baby just a short time ago. It was still fresh for both of them, and he didn’t want the day to bring up too many painful memories. But he also wanted to celebrate her strength, her resilience. Maybe the best way to honor her birthday was to give her something that showed her just how much he appreciated everything she had gone through.

Jey smiled to himself, feeling the pieces slowly come together. He was getting closer to figuring out what to do, and for the first time since Damian had blindsided him, he didn’t feel completely overwhelmed.

Glancing over at Rhea, still fast asleep and peaceful, Jey knew he had time to make this birthday perfect for her. And he wasn’t going to mess it up.

Rhea stirred awake slowly, her eyes fluttering open as the soft light from the window streamed into the room. Jey glanced up from his phone and smiled.

“Morning, Button Nose,” he teased, his voice warm and affectionate.

Rhea gave him a sleepy smile, stretching out under the tangled blankets. She mumbled something incoherent before burying her face in the pillow again.

Jey chuckled. “You hungry?”

She nodded, still half-asleep, and mumbled one word. “Starbucks.”

Jey rolled his eyes, though the smile on his face never wavered. “Of course. You wanna come, or are you just gonna be lazy?”

“Nahhhh,” she groaned dramatically, pulling the covers tighter around her as if the bed was the safest place on Earth.

He leaned over, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Alright, what’s the order?”

Without even opening her eyes, she rattled it off. “Venti Apple Crisp Oatmilk Frappuccino, Ham and Swiss croissant, and… a birthday cake pop.”

Jey laughed as he grabbed his phone and quickly typed out the order. “I swear, you and those cake pops.”

Rhea just grumbled something unintelligible, half asleep again. Jey shook his head, kissed her one more time, and stood up, grabbing his wallet and keys. He made his way downstairs, the quietness of the house giving him a moment to think. The faint hum of the AC was the only other sound in the house.

He stepped outside and headed to Jon’s car, sliding into the driver’s seat. The warm air hit him as he started the engine and pulled out of the driveway. It didn’t take long to find the nearest Starbucks, and as he was waiting in the drive-thru line, his phone buzzed.

He glanced down at the screen. Dad.

Jey frowned a little, answering the call quickly. “Hey, Pops. What’s up?”

His father’s voice came through the line, calm but with a serious tone. “Jey, just wanted to let you know, some old lady dropped off a box at the house today. She said it was for you and Rhea. Looked important.”

Jey’s heart skipped a beat. He knew immediately what it was. He had almost forgotten, but now it all came rushing back. The jewelry containing the ashes of their baby. The one they had lost.

His chest tightened as memories of that painful time flashed through his mind. It had only been a few days since they lost the baby, and while they had tried to move forward, the weight of that loss was always there, just beneath the surface.

“Yeah,” Jey said quietly, his voice strained. “I remember.”

His dad’s voice softened. “I didn’t want to leave it outside, so it’s inside, safe. Whenever you’re ready, come by and pick it up.”

“Thanks, Pops,” Jey replied, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I’ll get it later today.”

They exchanged a few more words before Jey hung up, his mind now focused on that box. He leaned back in his seat, trying to steady himself as the car in front of him inched forward. He wasn’t sure how he’d bring this up to Rhea, not so soon after everything. But he knew they’d have to face it together. To be fair he had received an email saying it would be ready by Monday and he foolishly forgot that he asked for a rush on the jewelry.

He pulled up to the window, collecting her order, his mind still elsewhere. The Starbucks worker handed him the Frappuccino and croissant, and Jey forced a smile, offering a quick “thanks” before driving off.

As he made his way back to Jon’s, Jey’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. For now, he had to focus on the moment, on making sure her day started off right.

One thing at a time.

Jey pulled into Jon’s driveway and parked the car, the smell of Starbucks filling the interior. He grabbed the bag and drink tray, then headed back inside, feeling the weight of the conversation with his dad still lingering in his mind.

As he made his way upstairs, he could hear the soft, familiar soundtrack of The Great Gatsby playing in the background. When he opened the door to the guest bedroom, there was Rhea, sitting up in bed, wearing his hoodie, her hair a tousled mess but looking completely at peace. She had the blankets wrapped around her legs, her eyes glued to the screen as Leonardo DiCaprio’s voice narrated the iconic lines she must’ve heard a hundred times by now.

Jey gave a soft smile while taking a mental note—her wearing his hoodie was always a good sign. It was something she did when she wanted comfort, and right now, she looked like she was in her element.

Rhea glanced over at him, her face lighting up when she saw the Starbucks bag in his hand. "You’re my hero," she said with a sleepy grin.

Jey walked over and handed her the drink and pastry along with the cake pop she always insisted on. “Here you go, birthday girl in training,” he teased.

She rolled her eyes but took the drink gratefully. “Thanks, Button Nose,” she said playfully, using his own nickname for her.

Jey leaned down and kissed her forehead, his lips lingering just a second longer than usual. "I’m gonna check on Jaciyah, see if he’s up," he said, straightening up.

Rhea nodded as she sipped her drink. “Okay.”

Jey gave her a wink and turned, heading back to the room where Jaciyah was still sleeping. He carefully opened the door, hoping his son was awake now, but ready to see the same peaceful sight he had seen earlier with the dogs still snuggled up to him. As the door creaked open, Jaciyah stirred, blinking slowly as he woke up. The dogs, still lying next to him, perked their heads up but stayed comfortably in place.

“Hey, buddy,” Jey whispered as he stepped inside. “You sleep good?”

Jaciyah nodded, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. “Yeah I guess…The dogs were comfy,” he mumbled, still half-asleep.

Jey chuckled, walking over and ruffling his son’s hair. “Good. Listen, I was thinking… how about we take a little trip today? Head over to Grandpa’s in Titusville. What do you think?”

Jaciyah yawned but nodded, slowly waking up. “Yeah, sure I guess.”

Jey was relieved. At least Jaciyah was even talking to him. Jey figured spending some time with his dad might be just what they both needed— Solofa had a way of talking to his grandson that seemed to get through to him in a way Jey sometimes couldn’t. Plus, with everything on Jey’s mind about the jewelry, he could use his dad’s advice.

“Alright, cool. I’ll wait for you get dressed, and then we’ll head out in a bit,” Jey said, feeling a small sense of peace in the plan.

Jaciyah nodded, and Jey smiled, knowing his dad would have a way of bringing some perspective, both for him and for his son. Maybe a little time at Grandpa’s house would give him the clarity he needed to figure out how to handle everything with Rhea—and the ashes—when the time came.

—

Jey gave Rhea a quick kiss on the forehead, his lips brushing against her soft skin before he stood up. “I’ll be back later, okay? You and Trinity try to stay out of trouble.”

Rhea sighed as she watched him leave, the familiar loneliness creeping in now that he was gone. As soon as she heard the door click shut, she grabbed her phone and dialed Trinity’s number. It rang a couple of times before her future sister in law picked up, sounding upbeat as ever.

“Hey, girl! What’s up?” Trinity’s voice echoed through the line.

“Not much. Just bored now that Jey left,” Rhea replied, leaning back into the pillows and taking a sip of her Starbucks. “Where are you guys at?”

Trinity chuckled. “We’re just leaving Academy. Had to get some last-minute stuff for the kids. We’re heading home now.”

Rhea hummed in understanding but couldn’t help but let her boredom show. “Wish you guys were home already. There’s nothing to do here.”

“Girl, you won’t be bored for long. I got something at Academy that’s going to keep these kids busy for hours. Jon is gonna throw a fit when he sees it,” Trinity said, her voice full of mischief.

Rhea perked up, intrigued. “Oh? What did you get?”

“A water bouncy house,” Trinity said with a laugh, clearly pleased with herself. “You know how it is—it’s Florida, it’s hot, and the kids need to burn off some energy. And, let’s be real, we could all use some fun.”

Rhea’s eyes widened, a smile spreading across her face. “No way! That’s amazing. I might need to hop in there with them.”

Trinity laughed, knowing Rhea well enough to believe she would. “Girl, we’ll both get in there. Jon’s gonna lose it when he sees the backyard covered in water and bounce house chaos.”

The thought of Jon’s reaction made Rhea laugh. “Yeah, I can see it now. He’s gonna act like he’s mad but then end up having the most fun.”

“Exactly!” Trinity said. “But after the kids tire themselves out, we’re still doing that movie night. Got all their favorite snacks, blankets, the whole deal.”

“That sounds perfect,” Rhea said, feeling a wave of excitement wash over her. The idea of a carefree day with the kids, and then winding down with movies, was exactly what she needed. “I can’t wait. I’ll see you when you guys get back.”

“Alright, see you soon!” Trinity chimed before hanging up.

Rhea smiled to herself as she set her phone down. The idea of spending the afternoon with the kids, bouncing around in the water bouncy house, followed by a relaxing movie night, felt like a nice escape from everything that had been weighing on her. For now, she’d relax and wait for the chaos to begin when Trinity and the kids arrived.

After lounging for a while, Rhea finally decided it was time to get up and shower. She stretched, slipped off Jey’s hoodie, and headed over to her bag, pulling out a pair of comfy lounge clothes—some soft joggers and a loose tee. Before hopping in the shower, she grabbed her protective goggles to shield her freshly done lashes. As she was adjusting them in front of the mirror, her heart nearly skipped a beat when the bathroom door creaked open softly.

She spun around quickly, but her worry faded when she saw her cat, Storm, strut into the bathroom like he owned the place. “Storm, really?” she said, sighing in relief. The mischievous cat just meowed as if to say, “What did you expect?”

Rhea chuckled and scratched his head gently. “I should’ve known it was you.” With that, she closed the door properly this time and stepped into the warm shower.

The hot water did wonders for her muscles and ribs, easing the tension she hadn’t realized was still there. She let her mind wander, thinking about the upcoming movie night with the kids and Trinity, and of course, the bouncy house. It had been a while since she’d let herself just relax and enjoy something silly and fun like that. For a brief moment, she imagined bouncing around with the kids, the water splashing everywhere, all of them laughing without a care in the world.

Once Rhea was done with her shower, she quickly brushed her teeth again and got dressed in her lounge clothes. Feeling refreshed, she headed downstairs, her damp hair tied back in a messy bun. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was a text from Jey.

Miss you. I’ll try to be back soon.

A soft smile tugged at her lips as she read the message. She quickly typed a reply.

Miss you too. Be safe. Can’t wait to see you.

After sending the message, she wandered into the living room. It was quiet, peaceful. The perfect time to throw on a movie and just relax before the chaos of the day kicked in with the kids and the bouncy house.

Rhea settled onto the couch, flipping through the streaming options before landing on an old favorite, Bring It On. As soon as the opening credits started, she heard the familiar sounds of paws padding against the floor. One by one, her furry crew began to gather around her. First, Storm jumped up onto the arm of the couch, curling up in his usual spot. Then, her three dogs—Barry, Bella, and Luna—came trotting over, each finding a place near her feet or right beside her on the couch. Tank and Marley soon joined her on the other side of the couch.

She couldn’t help but smile as she looked around at her little animal family. “Well, guess it’s a party now,” she murmured, scratching behind Storm’s ears. With all of them settled in, Rhea felt a sense of calm wash over her as she sank deeper into the cushions, the comforting presence of her pets making everything feel just a little bit brighter.

—

Jey scrolled through his phone, eyeing private proposal setups, his mind racing with the weight of the decision he'd finally made. He was going to propose to Rhea. The thought filled him with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Jaciyah, his oldest, had been quiet during their drive to Titusville, where they’d just arrived at his dad’s house. Jey wanted to make sure his son was okay with everything—especially the divorce from Takecia and his future with Rhea.

“Dad,” Jey called out as his father entered the living room. “Could you talk to Jaciyah? See how he’s feelin’ about all this? I know it’s a lot for him.”

His father nodded, placing a reassuring hand on Jey’s shoulder before heading outside to the porch where Jaciyah was sitting, staring off into the distance. Jey exhaled and leaned back, his eyes drifting to the small box beside him on the table. Inside it was the necklace holding the ashes of their unborn child, along with Rhea’s ring. Jey had already his ring on him and he felt more at peace knowing his unborn child was with him. Onto Rhea’s ring, It was something he wanted to give to Rhea when he asked her to marry him, it was the perfect ring.

The thought tugged at his heart, but before he could get too lost in it, his mother walked in with a steaming cup of koko Samoa. She placed it gently in front of him and sat down across the table, her eyes full of warmth and understanding as they met his.

"You look like you got the weight of the world on your shoulders, son," she said softly.

Jey gave a small, tired smile and took a sip of the drink. The familiar taste brought a sense of comfort, but his thoughts were still tangled up in everything happening around him.

"I do, Mom," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I wanna propose to Rhea. I’ve already made up my mind, but... there���s just so much to think about. The divorce, the kids, everything with her ex, and now... this." His hand hovered over the small jewelry box. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t even know if now is the right time.”

His mother’s eyes softened further, and she reached across the table, placing her hand over his.

"Son, if you’ve made the decision to ask Rhea to marry you, then you’re ready. You wouldn’t be thinking about all this if you weren’t. But I know it’s not easy—especially after everything you’ve been through." She glanced at the box, understanding its significance without needing an explanation.

"How do you think she’s going to feel about this?" Jey asked, gesturing to the box. His voice trembled with the weight of his emotions. "About having a part of our baby with her all the time?"

His mom smiled gently. "She’ll feel what any mother would feel—connected. Even though you both lost that child, it doesn’t mean you’ve lost the love you had for them. This..." She tapped the box lightly. "This will keep that memory alive, in a way that’s beautiful. I think it’ll mean the world to her."

Jey nodded, feeling a lump in his throat. "I just don’t wanna mess it up. This has to be right."

"You won’t mess it up," his mother assured him. "The love you have for her, for that baby, it’s all right there in your heart. That’s what she’s going to see when you ask her."

Jey took another sip of the koko Samoa, the warmth spreading through him. He wanted to believe what his mom was saying—that everything would fall into place.

As his thoughts turned to Rhea, he felt a sense of determination rise in him. He would propose, and he would find the right way to do it. For Rhea. For their baby. For the future they were about to build together.

His mother gave him one last reassuring squeeze before she stood up, leaving Jey alone with his thoughts. He picked up the small jewelry box, holding it in his hands, feeling the weight of the ashes inside. He whispered to himself, as if speaking to the child they had lost, "I’m gonna do this right. I promise. Solofa opened the back door and Jaciyah walked in, completely ignored Jey’s presence. Jaciyah went to the front room and he pulled out this phone to ignore everyone. Solofa signaled for Jey to come outside.

Jey sat on the porch steps next to his father, the weight of the conversation pressed down heavily. The quiet sounds of the yard, the rustle of leaves in the breeze, and the fading light of day felt distant compared to the turmoil brewing inside him. He had known this conversation with his father was coming, but nothing could have prepared him for the emotions now bubbling to the surface.

Solofa was silent for a moment, his eyes focused on the horizon. There was something heavy in the air between them, a shared understanding that words were needed but not easy to find.

"Joshua," Solofa finally said, breaking the silence. His voice was steady but carried the weight of years of wisdom and heartache. "I’ve been thinking about everything. About you, Jaciyah, and... all of this."

Jey didn’t respond right away. He simply nodded, his throat tight. He knew his father was about to say something important, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear it.

Solofa turned to face his son, his eyes filled with concern. “Your son, Joshua, he’s hurting. Deeply.”

The words hit Jey like a punch to the gut. He had felt it—seen it in Jaciyah’s eyes—but hearing it from his father made it real in a way he couldn’t ignore. He swallowed hard, feeling a lump in his throat that refused to go away.

“I know, Dad,” he finally said, his voice rough. “I’ve seen it. I know he’s angry. I just... I didn’t know how bad it was.”

Solofa sighed and ran a hand over his face, as if the weight of what he was about to say was too much to bear. “He’s angry because he feels like you broke up his family, Joshua. He feels like you left his mom... and in his mind, he’s being forced to accept Rhea, the woman he thinks is responsible for all of this.”

Jey’s chest tightened with guilt. He had tried so hard to protect his son from the mess that was his relationship with Takecia, but it hadn’t worked. Jeciyah had seen more than he’d realized, and now he was paying the price.

“It wasn’t Rhea’s fault, Dad,” Joshua said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Takecia and I... we weren’t happy. Things were broken long before Rhea came into the picture.”

Solofa nodded slowly. “I know that. I believe that. But Jaciyah doesn’t. All he sees is his mom hurting and you moving on. In his young mind, that means Rhea is the reason. He’s hurting because he feels like he has to choose between his love for you and his loyalty to his mom.”

Joshua clenched his fists, feeling helpless. “What do I do, Dad? How do I fix this? I don’t want him to hate Rhea. I don’t want him to feel like he’s losing me.”

His father’s hand landed on his shoulder, a grounding gesture, as Solofa looked him square in the eyes. “Joshua, you need to talk to your son. Really talk to him. Let him be mad, let him tell you how he feels. And then... you need to tell him the truth. Explain to him why things didn’t work with Takecia, but make sure he knows it was never about Rhea. He needs to hear that from you.”

Jey nodded, his mind racing with everything he wanted to say to his son. But then, there was something else he needed to admit—something that had been weighing on his mind.

“There’s something else, Dad,” Jey said, his voice quieter now, hesitant. “After the six-month waiting period is over... I’m going to ask Rhea to marry me.”

Solofa didn’t react at first. He simply studied his son, the silence between them stretching out. Finally, he spoke, his voice calm but firm.

“You’ve made your decision, then.”

Jey nodded, feeling a mix of certainty and nerves. “Yeah. I love her, Dad. I really do. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and I’m going to propose to her. I was planning on doing it in two weeks.”

Solofa let out a long breath, his face unreadable for a moment. Then he turned to his son with an intensity that caught Jey off guard.

“Before you do that,” Solofa said, his tone serious, “I need you to make me a promise.”

Jey’s heart skipped a beat. “What is it?”

“Promise me you’ll talk to Jaciyah first. Before you ask Rhea to marry you, talk to your son. He deserves to hear it from you, to understand what this means for your family.”

Jey stared at his father, the weight of that request settling heavily on his shoulders. He hadn’t fully thought about how Jaciyah would react to him proposing to Rhea—at least, not in the depth he should have. But now, with his father’s words hanging in the air, he realized how crucial that conversation would be.

“I promise, Dad,” Jey said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll talk to him. I’ll make sure he knows that he’s still my priority, no matter what happens.”

Solofa’s face softened, and he gave his son a small, proud nod. “That’s all I ask, Joshua. Your son needs to know that no matter how things change, your love for him won’t.”

Jey felt his throat tighten again, the emotions overwhelming him. “I just want him to be okay, Dad. I want him to understand that this isn’t about replacing anyone. I love Rhea, but I love him too. I don’t want him to feel like he’s losing me.”

Solofa squeezed his son’s shoulder again. “He’ll come around, Joshua. But it’s going to take time. Don’t rush it. Let him feel what he needs to feel, and be there for him when he’s ready.”

Jey nodded, feeling the weight of his father’s wisdom settle deep into his bones. He had a long road ahead of him, but at least now he had a clearer path.

As they sat there together, the sun shining, Jey felt something he hadn’t felt in a while—a sense of understanding. It wasn’t going to be easy, but with his father’s advice, he knew he could start mending the rift with his son and build a future with Rhea.

“I’ll do it, Dad,” Jey said quietly. “I’ll make things right with Jaciyah. And when the time’s right... I’ll make sure he knows how much he means to me.”

Solofa smiled, pride and love shining through the lines of his weathered face. “I know you will, son. I know you will.”

—

As Jey and Jaciyah settled into the car for the 52-minute drive home, the silence between them felt thick and heavy. Jey glanced over at his son, who sat quietly, staring out the window. Jaciyah hadn’t said much after his conversation with his grandpa, but Jey knew there was a lot on his mind.

Jey drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, trying to figure out the best way to start. He wasn’t the type to shy away from tough conversations, but this one felt different—he didn’t just need to explain things, he needed to heal the hurt he had caused.

He exhaled softly and broke the silence. "Jaciyah," Jey began, his voice calm, "I know things have been tough lately. And I know I’m the reason for a lot of it."

Jeciyah didn’t respond right away, his eyes still fixed on the passing scenery outside the car. But Jey pressed on, knowing he needed to say this, even if his son didn’t want to hear it.

"I’ve made mistakes, man," Jey admitted, his grip tightening on the wheel. "With your mom... with you. And I don’t expect you to just forgive me overnight, but I want you to know I’m sorry."

Jaciyah finally shifted in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. His voice was quiet but edged with frustration. "I don’t get it, Dad. Why’d you have to leave us for her?"

The question hit Jey hard, but he had been expecting it. He swallowed the lump in his throat and glanced briefly at his son before returning his gaze to the road.

"It wasn’t just about Rhea," Jey said softly. "Your mom and I... we weren’t good for each other anymore. We were holding on to something that was already broken, and I didn’t want to keep hurting her or you by pretending we could fix it."

Jaciyah’s expression hardened. "It feels like you just gave up. Like you picked her over us."

Jey shook his head. "I didn’t give up, Jaciyah. I fought for a long time to keep things together, but sometimes... staying together for the wrong reasons can hurt more than letting go. I didn’t leave you, and I didn’t leave your mom because I didn’t care. I just... I wanted to be happy again. And I wanted your mom to be happy too."

The car was quiet for a moment, the sound of the tires on the asphalt the only noise between them. Jey could feel the weight of his son’s pain and anger, and it cut him deeply.

"I know you don’t like Rhea," Jey continued carefully, "and I understand why. But I want you to know this—she didn’t break up me and your mom. That was already happening, with or without her."

Jaciyah was silent, his face still set in a scowl. Jey sighed and tried again.

"Look, I love you more than anything, Jaciyah. You’re my son, and nothing’s going to change that. No one will ever come before you."

Jaciyah’s voice was small but filled with hurt. "It doesn’t feel like that sometimes."

Jey felt his heart break at his son’s words. He had always prided himself on being a good father, but hearing Jeciyah express that kind of pain made him realize just how much damage had been done.

"I’m sorry, bud," Jey said, his voice thick with emotion. "I never wanted you to feel like that. And I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you don’t feel that way again."

There was a long pause before Jaciyah spoke again, his tone uncertain. "So... are you going to marry her?"

Jey’s breath caught for a moment. He hadn’t planned on bringing it up yet, but Jaciyah deserved the truth.

"Yeah," Jey said softly. "After this six-month waiting period... I’m going to marry her. I’ve been thinking about proposing in a couple of weeks."

Jaciyah turned to face him, his eyes wide with disbelief. "You’re really going to marry her?"

Jey nodded, his throat tight. "I am. But before I do anything, I wanted to talk to you about it. How you feel about this matters to me, Jaciyah. I need you to know that."

Jaciyah’s face twisted in a mix of emotions—confusion, anger, and something Jey couldn’t quite place. "I don’t know, Dad. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel."

Jey swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. "I get that. I don’t expect you to be okay with it right away. But I promise you, I’m not rushing anything. But look… before I do propose, I want to talk to you first. I want to know what’s on your mind, and I want to make sure you’re okay with this. I’ll wait…"

Jaciyah’s eyes flickered with uncertainty. "What if I’m not okay with it?"

Jey’s heart ached at the question, but he forced himself to stay calm. "If you’re not, we’ll talk about it. I want you to be honest with me, Jaciyah. I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not ready for."

They drove in silence for a few more minutes before Jey spoke again.

"I’m going to ask you for something, Jeciyah. Before I propose to Rhea, I need to make sure we’re good. I need you to talk to me—really talk to me—about how you feel. That’s the promise I made to your granddad, and it’s the promise I’m making to you. I won’t go forward with anything until we’ve had that conversation."

Jaciyah shifted in his seat again, his face thoughtful, but still pained. "I just need time, Dad."

Jey nodded, understanding the weight behind his son’s words. "Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get through this together, I promise."

Jaciyah didn’t respond, but Jey could see the tension in his son slowly beginning to ease. It wasn’t a solution, not yet, but it was a start. As they continued the drive home, Jey knew proposing to Rhea would have to wait… Jey glanced at Jaciyah again, silently hoping that in time, they would both find a way to heal.

—

Jey and Jaciyah finally pulled up to Jon and Trinity’s house, the familiar sight bringing a sense of comfort after the long and heavy drive. As soon as they parked, Jaciyah got out of the car and headed straight to the bedroom upstairs, barely acknowledging Jey.

Jey sighed, watching his son disappear into the house. He knew Jaciyah needed space, and he wasn’t going to push him right now. Instead, he stepped out of the car and lingered near the front, hearing the sound of laughter from the backyard.

Curious, Jey walked around to the side of the house and saw Jon and Trinity in the backyard, jumping on a giant water bouncy house with their kids. The sight of them having fun, carefree and full of joy, made him smile softly. It was moments like these that reminded him of how important family was, even when things were complicated.

As Jey looked closer, his eyes landed on Jeyce, his youngest, running around the yard, a water gun in his hand. The little boy was darting back and forth, his face lit up with pure excitement. Jey’s smile grew wider, watching his son have the time of his life. But it wasn’t just Jeyce that caught his attention.

There, chasing after Jeyce with her own water gun, was Rhea.

She was laughing, her hair soaked, as she playfully tried to tag Jeyce with the water stream. The two of them ran around the yard, dodging and weaving, their laughter filling the air. Jey couldn’t help but smile, his heart warming at the sight. Despite everything—the drama, the hurt, the uncertainty—seeing Rhea bonding with his youngest made him feel a sense of hope.

At least Jeyce was acknowledging her presence, embracing her in the way only a child could. Jey watched as his son’s face lit up with joy every time Rhea playfully sprayed him with water. The connection between them was natural, effortless. It wasn’t forced or complicated like the situation with Jaciyah. It was pure and innocent.

For a moment, Jey stood there, just taking it all in. The laughter, the playfulness, the way Rhea fit so seamlessly into this part of his life. He knew there were still challenges ahead, especially with Jaciyah, but seeing Rhea like this—so happy, so at ease—made him feel like maybe, just maybe, things could work out.

Jeyce let out a squeal of excitement as Rhea finally caught him, spraying him with a jet of water. Rhea laughed, scooping him up as he wiggled in her arms, trying to escape her grasp. Jey couldn’t take his eyes off them, his heart swelling with affection. It was moments like this that made him realize how much he wanted to build a future with her—a future that included moments like these with his children.

He knew the road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but for now, he allowed himself to smile and enjoy this small moment of happiness, with the ring still inside his pocket… just aching to be on Rhea’s finger.

Rhea was the first to notice Jey standing at the edge of the yard, watching them. A smile spread across her face as she lowered her water gun and nudged Jeyce gently. “Go get your dad,” she said with a playful glint in her eye.

Jeyce, always eager for a challenge, grinned mischievously and took off running towards Jey, spraying the water gun wildly in front of him. "Dad!" he yelled, laughter bubbling up from deep inside him. Jey, caught off guard but amused, put his hands up in mock surrender, backing away.

"Oh, you wanna play, huh?" Jey teased, trying to dodge the streams of water as Jeyce got closer. For a moment, Jey played along, darting and weaving as Jeyce chased him around the yard, spraying him with water. The sound of his son’s giggles echoed around the backyard, and Jey couldn’t help but laugh too.

There was something healing in this simple moment—a sense of peace that Jey hadn’t felt in a long time. It was as if, for just a few minutes, everything else melted away. No complications, no drama—just him and his son, playing under the warm afternoon sun.

Finally, Jey slowed down and stopped running, letting Jeyce catch up. "Alright, you got me!" he said with a grin, holding out his arms in surrender. Jeyce, overjoyed at his victory, ran straight into his father’s arms, spraying one last burst of water before dropping the gun.

Jey scooped him up into a tight hug, holding his son close as they both laughed. The water soaked through his shirt, but Jey didn’t care. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt a kind of peace settle over him—peace that came from being with his family, from seeing his son so happy, and from knowing that, despite everything, he could still create moments like this.

"Got you good, Dad!" Jeyce said breathlessly, his face beaming as he looked up at his father.

Jey chuckled, hugging him tighter. "Yeah, you did, little man," he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of Jeyce’s head. "You definitely got me."

As he held his son in his arms, Jey glanced over at Rhea, who was watching them with a smile, her eyes filled with warmth. The connection between them was silent, but it was there, strong and unspoken. He could feel her love and support in the way she looked at him, in the way she was becoming a part of his life—and Jey couldn’t help but feel grateful.

In this moment, surrounded by laughter and love, Jey allowed himself to fully relax. He didn’t have all the answers yet, but he knew one thing for sure—he wanted more moments like this. Moments where his family, both old and new, could come together, where happiness could be found in the simplest of things.

Jey smiled down at Jeyce, still holding him close, and whispered, "I love you, bud."

Jeyce grinned back at him, his eyes twinkling. "Love you too, Dad."

—

After an afternoon filled with laughter and water games, the kids were finally wrangled inside by Trinity. She somehow managed to corral them into the showers, giving each of them their set of pajamas to change into. As she handled the bedtime routine, Jon took charge of dinner, pulling out his phone and ordering a stack of pizzas from Pizza Hut. It was an easy choice, one that he knew would please everyone, especially the kids after their full day of fun.

Jey, now feeling lighter after spending time with his youngest, was tasked with setting up the movie night. He rifled through the options, trying to pick something that would keep the kids entertained. Meanwhile, Rhea had happily taken over the role of making "movie buckets"—popcorn, candy, and drinks all tucked into small containers for each kid.

As she worked, meticulously layering the snacks, something caught her attention. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Barry, her dog, slowly walking up the stairs. It wasn’t just the fact that he was heading upstairs that bothered her—it was his demeanor. Barry had been acting strange lately. He hadn’t slept beside her and he seemed drawn to the kids’ room, refusing to leave sometimes.

A feeling of unease settled in her stomach. Rhea put down the bucket, wiping her hands on her jeans. She grabbed the candy bag of Jolly Ranchers on instinct and followed Barry up the stairs, her heart tightening with worry. As she neared the top, she saw the door to Jaciyah’s room was slightly ajar.

Peeking through the gap, Rhea froze. There was Barry, sitting quietly with his head resting in Jaciyah’s lap. But what made Rhea’s heart clench was the sight of Jaciyah, silently crying. His small shoulders trembled as he stroked the dog’s fur, his face turned down to hide the tears from anyone who might notice.

Rhea's breath hitched. Seeing Jaciyah like that made her heart break in ways she hadn’t anticipated. She had known this transition would be hard for him—harder than anyone could truly understand. But seeing it up close, seeing his pain so raw, left her feeling helpless and scared. She wanted to comfort him, to tell him it would be okay, but she wasn’t sure if her presence would be welcomed.

Swallowing her own anxiety, Rhea softly pushed the door open a little wider. Jaciyah looked up at her, his eyes red and puffy, but he didn’t say a word. For a moment, they just stood there in silence, the air heavy with unspoken emotions.

Rhea hesitated, unsure of what to do. Then, almost as if her body moved on its own, she extended her hand, offering Jaciyah the bag of Jolly Ranchers she had brought with her. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

To her surprise, Jaciyah’s tear-streaked face softened. A faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Slowly, he reached out and took the bag from her hand.

"Thanks," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Rhea gave him a small nod, her heart aching for him. She didn’t say anything else—didn’t want to push too much. Instead, she gave him the space he needed, quietly stepping back and closing the door behind her.

As she stood on the other side of the door, her back against the cool wood, Rhea took a deep breath. She had no idea what Jaciyah was going through entirely, but she hoped that, in some small way, her gesture had helped. Barry remained by his side, the loyal dog providing the comfort that Rhea couldn’t at that moment. She turned and made her way back downstairs, her thoughts heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid.

[hellborn-bitch]

First Impressions

A continuation of Zira meeting Alastor, including their deal-making. I’m gonna call this another one-shot kinda ? Cuz it’s not really a chapter ? Idk lol

Again, this is entirely self-indulgent and I’m just kinda writing to write I don’t really have a formal plan to make this into a fic. Yet… ?

Alastor believed first impressions were crucial. He’d understood the importance when he was alive, and certainly did so in Hell. He took great pride in the fact a single glance struck fear into the hearts of any demon who dared to cross his path.

But this demon, this succubus, was different. She couldn’t be bothered to even feign fear of him. He couldn’t decide if he found it brave and admirable, or naive and ignorant to hold eye contact with the infamous Radio Demon the way she had. She was either unaware or apparently unafraid of his ruthless reputation.

Looking at her, her face full of disgust with what he assumed was a permanent frown, he found himself slightly amused. There was something to be said about unrelenting defiance, that he could almost appreciate.

Almost. Certainly not when it was directed to him, however.

“You’re looking at her.” She hissed, her tail flicking aggressively to punctuate her words.

So bold. So stubborn. This kind of blatant disrespect he would expect from the Vees, but from a Hellborn succubus, of all demons? Nearly the bottom of the food chain in Hell’s hierarchy and yet here she stood, brazenly defiant before him.

It was an entirely foreign concept to him, to have a soul so obviously beneath him act as though they weren’t. And it was perfectly irritating.

Alastor hummed in contemplation, mulling over how to proceed with his newest acquisition. “I trust you’ve already signed the contract then?”

His gaze immediately flicked to Asmodeus, as he cleared his throat to speak, “Actually no, that was to be done today to complete the uh… transaction.”

Alastor watched him flinch as the word left his mouth, and looked curiously over to the subject of said transaction.

She rolled her eyes, and crossed her arms with a huff, “Well that’s one way to put it.”

The utterance under her breath had gone unnoticed by the embodiment of Lust, but Alastor had heard it. He couldn’t help the dark laugh that gathered in his throat as he basked in her clear hatred for her current situation.

“Well then! I am more than delighted to draft the deal myself.” Alastor’s grin stretched, his eyes darkening with malicious intent. “I do love making deals, after all.”

Azira watched as his red eyes flashed and the odd static from before seemed to creep back into the room like a suffocating fog. She instinctively backed away in disgust, her face contorting to match the sentiment. This freak was becoming more and more of a problem for her.

Her eyes widened in realization, a new wave of energy washing over her as she pointed an accusatory finger at Alastor.

“Wait- if I haven’t signed any contract, then I’ve not been sold to anyone! I can’t just be acquired! He didn’t own me yet, and neither do you.”

Alastor watched as her face shifted back to familiar defiance, her eyes challenging him to find the flaw in her logic. Which, he could, of course. But oh, how he was enjoying watching her false sense of victory over him.

His pulse quickened in anticipation just thinking about her inevitable fall into his clutches, how delicious her disappointment would be. Asmodeus suddenly spoke again, interrupting his predatory plans.

“I’m afraid that’s… not quite how it works, babe.” He reasoned with her gently.

“What the Hell are you talking about?” She threw her hands up exasperatedly and shifted her weight onto one hip.

“No contract, no Overlord, NO DEAL.” She locked eyes with the Radio Demon when delivering the last two words, yet another challenge.

Asmodeus laughed nervously, and spoke instead to Alastor, “Could you excuse us for a moment? I just… need to discuss a few things with her.”

Alastor waved a hand dismissively, before turning it around to examine his claws, feigning disinterest. He was sure to keep a well-tuned ear, in the direction of the two demons, listening.

He watched Asmodeus pull Azira to the other side of the room, a massive hand on each of her shoulders.It was evident there was a bond between the two, but he couldn’t quite place the nature of it.

“Look… when we were still alone, there was a chance I could play it off and explain the circumstances to get you off the hook.”

He took a deep sigh and ran a hand through his multi-colored plumage. “But now the Radio Demon knows about it, and he smells the blood in the water. He is the last person to drop a deal that’s already been made.”

“BUT HE CAN’T-“ Azira was cut off by Asmodeus shushing her softly, a hand coming to cup her cheek.

Alastor watched, fighting his curiosity from winning over the discretion he was attempting. He couldn’t understand the dynamic between the two of them. Were they friends? Lovers?

Surely not…

Then again, he wasn’t exactly the best at deciphering between social and romantic cues. Or social cues at all. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, refocusing himself on his task of subtle eavesdropping.

Asmodeus spoke to her with a firm certainty. “You know I would never steer you wrong. This is still the better option. We both know that.”

“I don’t know that!” Azira retorted, “I don’t know a damn thing about him, Ozz!”

“But you do know who else wants you.” He said ominously, a reminder and warning at the same time.

Azira sighed and let her eyes wander across the room to begrudgingly settle on Alastor. He matched and locked eyes with her again. This time he found himself searching, though he wasn’t entirely sure what for. He saw two irises, one red and one white, holding too many emotions for him to process at once.

He could see the heavy cloud of disappointment.

He could see hatred. Or was it self-hatred?

He saw disgust and disdain.

But what he didn’t, or perhaps couldn’t see… was fear. Quite peculiar, he thought. Most souls would be terrified at the thought of being owned by him. Why wasn’t she?

He wondered what she thought of him. Wondered what sort of impression he had made on her, seeing as the only reaction he’d expected and grown accustomed to, was missing. Truly, he was at a loss for what to make of her altogether. The only thing he was sure of, was the deep seated drive he had to break her.

Azira turned to look at Asmodeus one last time, as if pleading for him to fix this. To stop her from being sold to the Radio Demon.

The Lord of Lust only offered her a firm nod in return, before disappearing in a whirl of flames. She was now alone with Alastor, with her new master.

“Now then!” Alastor broke the heavy silence with a misplaced cheerful tone. “ Azira, you will officially belong to me, once this deal has been made. You will come and go, do and say… as I command, when I command.”

Azira bit back the growl that rose in her throat at the sheer audacity this prick had. As if, she would ever be caught dead playing someone’s house pet. She didn’t offer a response, only hardening the glare she kept fixed on him.

“In exchange, I can promise your safety, and offer you a place to stay where I can… keep an eye on you,” he said with a smirk.

Her blood was boiling. She couldn’t possibly agree to this. Death would be better, she thought.

Maybe she could chase Ozzie down, change her mind and choose the option that resulted in her being murdered, instead. At least then, she could keep some semblance of dignity as she accepted her mandated punishment.

“Do we have a deal?” Alastor reached towards her once again, his unnaturally large hand beckoning for an answer.

“Fine.” She huffed, and tentatively extended her hand out to meet his much larger one.

That was all he needed.

A wide sinister grin split his face, neon green stitches the only thing still keeping it together. His eyes flashed to blood red, ticking dials; his sclera now devoid of all color.

The screams of thousands of trapped souls swirled around them, sending shivers down her spine. She could not see them, but she felt hands. Hands all over her body, pulling at her, begging her to help.

There was nothing she could do. She was one of those trapped souls now.

She gasped as a neon green collar formed around her neck. Her eyes followed as chains of the same glowing material linked together one at a time, until they ended in the closed fist of the Radio Demon.

She instinctively brought both hands up to tug at the collar, a pointless effort, she quickly found. Alastor watched as panic set in, her breathing increasing and eyes going wide.

He found it positively delightful to watch her squirm under the sheer idea of belonging to him. He wondered how long it would take to break that rebellious spirit of hers. To reduce her to nothing but a submissive pet on her knees before him.

Azira squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to whatever forces she could summon, that when she opened them this would all have been nothing but a horrible nightmare.

She kept them closed as she heard her captor continued cackling like some deranged beast. She felt a mist overcome her body, and tendrils of some force that felt both human and nonexistent at the same time. They wrapped around her waist and legs, lifting her off the ground effortlessly.

Her eyes were still sealed shut as she felt her body descend into nothingness, feeling weightlessly heavy. She could still hear the Radio Demon laughing, but the sound was no longer directly in front of her. Every direction seemed to echo his laugh back then her, a cacophony of cruel mockery adding to her sense of helplessness.

She so desperately wanted this to be a nightmare. It had to be…

It wasn’t until her feet hit something solid that she agreed to finally peek them open. Blinking rapidly, her eyes struggled to adjust to the harsh change in light, especially her left eye.

She quickly took in her surroundings, her hand instinctively reaching for the multiple blades she kept in holsters on each thigh. To the left there was a tall iron gate, behind it some kind of massive building atop a steep hill. As her eyes panned to the right, she caught sight of a tall figure moving in her peripheral vision.

She unsheathed a large dagger in her right hand, and plucked two throwing knives in her left, lunging towards the figure. The dark mass itself jumped, somehow seeming startled, before dissipating into the sidewalk.

“Now, now dear,” she heard an unfortunately familiar voice start. Two shadowy hands clamped around her wrists, forcing the angelic steel blades to fall to the ground with a clang.

She yelped in both surprise and pain, “Hey! What the fuck-“

“You won’t be needing these anymore.” Alastor stood directly in front of her, that same stupid grin still on his face. She tried yanking her arms free from the fists holding her captive, turning to see they were made of a shadowy mist rather than flesh and blood. She turned back to him to glare directly through whatever soul he may have had.

Alastor tutted, “Oh come now dear, you didn’t think you were rid of me, did you?” His voice dripping in a fake sickly sweet tone that made her stomach turn.

Azira let out an exaggerated groan, rolling her eyes and turning her head away from him, “I could only hope so.”

He laughed darkly before grabbing her face with one hand, forcing her to look at him, “Unfortunately for you, my dear, that will never happen.”

With every word he grew closer to her face, until she was only inches away from his cold red irises. “You belong to me now.”

She heard a growl come from the shadow behind her, but was unable to turn to see it. She gave a tentative tug at her wrists again, to which the shadow responded by squeezing tighter. She attempted to kick behind her at the shadow, before two more appendages wrapped around her ankles.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, her pupils constricting as her body took hold in its familiar fight or flight response. “Good luck trying to tame me.”

His claws dug into the sides of her face, opening her mouth ever so slightly. She took the opportunity and spat at him, a few small droplets landing on his cheek, “You’re going to need it, demon.”

Bringing his free hand up to wipe the offended spot clean, he refused to break eye contact. She was waiting for the laugh she expected to follow, but it never came. He only hummed in contemplation, as he searched her face for something he could use against her. Anything.

He was eager to destroy her hopes of escaping him. She was so sure of herself, to a fault, evidently unconcerned about the consequences of her actions. He needed to break her of that little habit. He wanted to watch as that veil of cockiness fell around her.

He had a feeling she would be a difficult one to crack.

But Alastor hadn’t become the all powerful Radio Demon by backing away from a challenge.

“Darling there’s no need to be hateful. I am merely the consequences of your own actions,” he drawled, very clearly enjoying himself. “You’ve done this to yourself it seems.”

He watched as her glare hardened, before softening as she averted her gaze. She seemed to be dissociating before his eyes, no longer present before him as she let his words sink in.

Ah… so he’d found it…

He sighed and released her face. She opened her mouth to protest, or send off yet another spiteful remark, but was quickly cut off by a shadow hand taking the place of its master's holding her face.

Alastor snapped his fingers, as an ominous green glow began emanating from his index. He swiped his finger across her lips in a loose zig zag formation, leaving behind a trail of glowing green strings.

If she had been able to open her mouth, a frustrated “What the FUCK?!” would’ve tumbled from her lips.

But she couldn’t. Alastor had quite literally sewn her mouth shut, held together with sutures of neon green energy.

“I was hoping we wouldn’t have to resort to such extreme measures, but it seems you’ve left me no choice,” he explained with an exaggerated sense of disappointment.

She didn’t buy it for a second, she could tell he loved it. The power he was lording over her and quite literally silencing her with. He was a sick bastard, who got off on making others subservient to him. She was beyond furious, but all she could do was continue to glare at him.

“Now that you’ve been successfully muzzled…” Zira growled and attempted to lunge at him, but was still held captive by the Shadow.

“… I do hope you can behave yourself if we release you. Can you behave, like a good little dear?”

She huffed, and rolled her eyes. Every cell in her body wanted her to fight and continue to be as difficult as possible. But the voice of reason she normally tried to block out, warned her otherwise. This was already going to be a miserable fate, but she needed to play her cards carefully if she wanted to avoid making it harder for herself.

She let her shoulders slump forward and gave a curt nod to the demon.

“Delighted to hear it! Or rather, see it. Because… you know… you’re not exactly on speaking terms right now,” he joked with a sick wink.

She audibly groaned. She would’ve purposely vomited on his shoes at that sad excuse for humor, had her mouth not been sewn shut.

“Now then! I believe it’s time we introduce you to your new home, and the many…” he paused, waving his hand in an effort to find the right word, “…colorful residents that inhabit it.”

She nodded again, and was pleasantly surprised as her arms and legs were released. She rubbed at her red wrists, sending an icy glare at the offending creature and sending it shrieking away into the ground.

Alastor rolled his eyes at his Shadow’s cowardly behavior, and extended an arm towards Azira. She looked at it and then back up to his face as if to say, “What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”

He sighed and lifted it to her yet again, pleading for her to take the hint and allow him to escort her. “You may think me a monster… and you’d be right… but I am still a gentleman.”

She hesitantly looped her arm around his, unsure what to make of his gesture. He had sewn her mouth shut while some strange Shadow restrained her, but now he was going to provide a gentlemanly escort up a hill?

He ignored her perplexed expression, and directed his attention to opening the iron gate in front of him. He began walking up the path, Zira reluctantly hanging on his arm, headed towards the looming building ahead of them.

“Come along now, there’s lots to be done, dear.”

[bbcphile]

WIP Wednesday (More MLC)

Have some more Fang Duobing and Di Feisheng interactions from my long fic as they try to figure out how to cooperate.

(You can find earlier excerpts here.)

“How’s your headache?” Fang Duobing asked.

There was a long pause. “Better,” was the curt reply.

Well, that was progress. At least he wasn’t pretending he had always been fine. And now, for the matter at hand. “Better enough that we could talk?” 

A-Fei huffed an amused breath. “Does my answer make a difference?”

Ouch. Alright, maybe he deserved that. “Yes. If you say no, I’ll shut up.”

A-Fei raised an eyebrow. “Really.” 

Fang Duobing nodded.

A-Fei closed his eyes, took another deep breath, and sighed it out. “Alright. Talk.”

Here it was. Now or never. “Ok.” He cleared his throat. “First of all: I’m sorry.” Hopefully a-Fei would be impressed with his maturity and responsibility.

There was a long pause. “For what?” a-Fei asked, his face devoid of emotion and his eyes still closed.

What on Earth did that reaction mean? Did he think the apology was beneath his notice? Fang Duobing swallowed back the desire to demand an explanation, took a calming breath, and continued. “I wasn’t listening to you. Either of you. You were right: I kept pushing on lots of things when you both told me to stop. And it hurt both of you, and Li Lianhua is only still alive because you were here to save him. I’ve learned my lesson, though. And I promise I’ll do better from now on.” To show that at least one of them knew something about etiquette, he also bowed. 

There was an even longer pause. Fang Duobing broke form to glance up. A-Fei had opened his eyes at some point during the bow, and was watching him with the most neutral expression Duobing had ever seen. 

“Alright,” a-Fei said with a clipped nod of his head, and closed his eyes again. “What do you want?”

“An apology isn’t about—“

“What. Do. You. Want?” a-Fei asked again, revealing the edge of his tone like he’d unsheathe his dao. 

“An acknowledgment of what I just said would be a good place to start,” he grumbled. “But fine.” He took a deep breath. Wuyan told him to try following a-Fei’s commands. Now was as good a time as any to start. “Since you asked—even though it’s unrelated to the apology—I want answers.”

Even with a-Fei’s eyes closed, Fang Duobing could see how hard he rolled them. “Of course.”

“You and Li Lianhua are both keeping things from me again, just like you used to. And because I can’t read minds, I keep accidentally hitting tripwires because I didn’t even know there were traps to look out for.”

“There are always traps,” a-Fei said, the hint of a sardonic twist raising the corners of his lips.

“No, that’s not—” Fang Duobing shook his head and tried again. “Imagine we were attacking a fortress. I study traps, so I can usually identify and disarm them without a problem. But in this fortress, for some reason, all traps are completely invisible to me, but you somehow have a map showing which spots trigger arrow formations and which ones are rigged with gunpowder to explode. And instead of sharing the map with me or telling me what to look out for, you’re just yelling at me once I’ve stepped wrong and blown everyone up. And I’m really, really tired of hurting everyone because of something I can’t see.” 

A-Fei shook his head and slowly ran his index finger along the inside of Li Lianhua’s wrist. “I don’t have a map.”

“You have more of one than I do.” Fang Duobing watched a-Fei’s finger move along Li Lianhua’s pulse point and decided to test a theory. “And I don’t just mean monitoring his heart rate.”

Another almost smile flickered on a-Fei’s lips. “Then what do you mean?”

That was one theory validated. Back to the matter at hand. “You already knew something more than what you shared. I don’t know what, but it has to do with why you wanted to heal the pericardium meridian rather than the lung meridian, even though he was wheezing, and how you knew he had shattered his own heart meridian, and that he did it while being immobilized, so immobilization would be dangerous for him. Something must connect them all. So what aren’t you telling me?” 

A-Fei dragged his finger back along Li Lianhua’s wrist to its starting point. “You want to not set off traps? Don’t immobilize him. Stop qi transfers when he or I say. Don’t ask him what happened.”

Fang Duobing’s mouth fell open. “That’s it? That’s all you’ll tell me?”

A-Fei opened his eyes to pierce him with a glare. “It’s enough.” 

“You always do this!” Fang Duobing said, throwing his hands into the air. “Why are you so committed to keeping people in the dark? Like with the ice planks, when you pretended to work with Shan Gudao.”

A-Fei’s free hand clenched into a fist. “That was my business. Not yours.”

 “Bullshit!” Fang Duobing snapped. “It affected us, too! Your snatching my xiao-yi got her stabbed, remember?” A-Fei’s finger hitched in its path on Li Lianhua’s wrist. “Anyway, you didn’t see Li Lianhua’s face once you left that day, when he thought you might have betrayed him like Shan Gudao did.” A-Fei’s finger stilled. “Why didn’t you just tell us, tell him, that you were doing it to get rid of the mind control bugs? Did you really think we wouldn’t help you, if we’d known? And instead, you tried to do it on your own and got kidnapped and Li Lianhua had to rescue you–”

A-Fei stopped moving entirely.

[stray-tickles]

Concentration

Read on AO3

Summary: A tickle fight breaks out, but Caleb can't participate because he needs to concentrate on his spell. No, really.

--

Jester hadn’t met any other tieflings before, besides her mama. Hadn’t met many other people, really, until she’d gone off travelling and found her group of friends. She hadn’t known what she’d expected to find out in the big wide world, but Molly was one that she’d never dreamed of.

Her mama had told her how not everyone felt the same as they did about things. How humans and half elves and orcs and goblins were a bit odd about touch in a way that she’d never understand. Jester had never been one to resist the urge to cuddle, to hug, to poke and play with those closest to her.

Molly, apparently, was the same. Jester had barely squeaked out a few giggles at his teasing prods to her belly when she pounced, fingers slipping past the edges of his coat to wriggle at his ribs and draw out delighted snorty laughter.

She giggled at how quickly he folded. “You could have asked, Molly.”

He definitely flushed at her words, illuminated by the edge of Caleb’s dome. “No- pfhaha- no fun!”

Jester could hear the others talking in the background, their voices coloured with amusement. Molly was curled up into a weak ball, twitching at her tickly assault, otherwise not resisting but to hiccup with laughter.

“You have such a good smile Molly, I should tickle you forever, then it would never stop!” Her fingers climbed to burrow into his armpits and earn a loud shriek. “Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Molly was laughing and kicking too hard to speak, but he managed a nod amidst his squirming.

Jester chuckled evilly. “Hehehe, did I find your worst spot, huh?” She continued to wriggle her now trapped fingers in his armpits, loving how dark purple he got. “Is this your tickly tickle spot?”

A soft voice just behind her made her jump. “Try his tail.”

Jester stopped in surprise, looking around to see a somewhat awkward looking Yasha, eyes fixed deliberately on the rain falling just past the edge of their little dome.

Molly wheezed for breath, feeling very warm and buzzy. “Traitor!” He shouted weakly, rolling onto his back for completely unrelated reasons.

“Oh?” That seemed to get Jester’s attention back on him. Presently, Molly wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not. “Is she right?”

Molly swallowed nervously, that giggly anticipation swelling up in his stomach. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

She giggled. “I’m gonna find out!”

He could feel himself grinning, and made no move to get up. “Best of luck to you!”

Jester glared playfully and made a grab for his tail, which Molly smugly twitched away at the last second. He was chuckling by her third attempt to catch it, and was just about to say something mocking when he felt something that sent a shock up his spine.

Jester’s tail, which had apparently wormed its way under him to the giant weak spot that was his lower back.

His eyes locked on to hers with horror, noting her smug satisfaction. So it had all been a trick. “You little- SHIT!” Molly was interrupted by a loud shriek when Jesters tail started wriggling like a worm against his back, and also, horribly, allowing her to finally catch his tail, which she assaulted with fingers that fluttered so lightly he felt like he’d die.

And okay, Molly could admit that he loved this, loved the play and the laughing and the warmth and the touch, but that didn’t mean he could handle it.

He managed barely a moment of squealing laughter before the thrashing began, twisting and rolling around to escape her tail from poking and wriggling against his back as he cackled wildly, tugging frantically at his own tail if only for the chance to catch his breath.

Then Jester’s tail found the hem of his shirt, and the moment it touched bare skin Molly shot straight out of her grip with a scream, right out the side of the protective dome.

Jester burst out laughing, only laughing harder when Molly returned a moment later, plastered with rain and catching his breath.

“Oh, you think this is funny?” Molly asked playfully, then surprised Jester by pouncing past her, somehow tackling Yasha to the ground.

“No- Molly wait-” She managed, before clasping both hands hard over her face and giggling.

Jester cooed at Yasha’s flushed face and soft laughter, then let her eyes scan over the rest of them for her next target.

And, well. Their wizard’s ears were very red.

She grinned. “Oh Caaay-leb…”

He glanced up from his bedroll, jittery as usual. “J-ja?” Then caught the look in her eye. “Ah- no, no, nein!” He yelped, scrambling backwards away from her. “Nein!”

Jester snickered, following him and wiggling her fingers playfully. “Are you like, super ticklish or something?”

Caleb curled in on himself, locking his arms at his sides. “Nein!” Oh gods, this was bad, he could tell from Jester’s smirk this was bad.

Then a familiar clawed hand squeezed at his side and it became worse. “AHA- noplease!”

Nott snickered. “But Caleb, you just said you’re not ticklish!”

“Yeah!”

He was trapped between them, and Caleb knew, knew he was going to perish. “No- wait! The spell, I need- I cannot lose concentration!”

A lie. One he was honestly quite proud of given the circumstances, but one that they could very well see through.

Instead, Jester shrugged, a disappointed pout on her lips. “Ugh, right.” She paused. “You can recast it though…”

Nott batted her away, clearly cowed by the thought of letting the rain in, and the two backed off, leaving Caleb sitting on the soft base of the dome, watching Jester leap onto Fjords back and dig her fingers into his stomach in a way that had him cackling in seconds.

This was… good. This was what he’d wanted after all. He was not being attacked, not made to laugh like a fool, to shriek and squirm like Nott was after her attempt to get Beau backfired. He didn’t want to feel like that, even if they did look happy and close in a way that made Caleb’s heart ache. This was… better.

It wasn’t like he could bear to look any of them in the eye once they found out how godforsaken ticklish he was anyway. It had never been a trait that had felt like it fit him. Caleb was awkward and stuffy and dry, it- it didn’t suit him to drop to the ground giggling from the littlest wiggle at his stomach.

It was silly.

Besides, it had been years since anyone had felt comfortable and playful enough to tickle him, Caleb wasn’t sure it would even work, if he remembered how he was supposed to react.

He’d never known how to react to things properly. He felt his lips twitch up slightly. That had always been what felt so… easy, about being ti- touched like that. He had no choice in his reactions, no chance of saying the wrong thing when he couldn’t speak for laughing, his self-consciousness unable to bury his smile in the face of that bright sparkling silliness.

Ah, gottsverdammt. He wanted that.

He glanced over to Molly and Yasha, who had now switched places, Yasha’s fingers worrying at Molly’s ribcage enough to have him in fits of giggles, flushing dark violet and grinning so big it looked like it hurt. Caleb’s arms tightened around his sides, his sympathetic smile getting a little wider. He could almost feel it, Yasha’s fingertips softly but persistently plucking at his own ribs, melting away his resolve in a moment, turning his bones into goo.

Caleb cleared his throat in a way that he hoped was just attention-grabbing enough, and unbuckled one of his books from its holster, finding that for once he wasn’t able to concentrate on the words on the page in the way that was normally so distracting for him, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that it was normally distracting. That he couldn’t maintain concentration while reading.

They all knew that.

Which was why it was so disappointing when they were all so distracted by their playful roughhousing to notice. After a few minutes, Caleb half-faked an irritated sigh and summoned his lights. It was getting to dark to read, which would be a problem if he was trying to read. It did have three globules of light circling his head though, and that had to be enough.

It was, to his eternal chagrin, not.

Mollymauk was curled up in a giddy giggly ball by the time Caleb realised that this wasn’t working, and decided to tuck himself into his bedroll and pretend to sleep. At least this way he didn’t have to look at them.

He didn’t quite notice Fjord’s now wheezing giggles come to a halt, nor the soft footsteps creeping over to him. In fact, Caleb didn’t notice anything at all until a hand snuck under the edge of his bedroll and a nail drew a very quick, very ticklish line up his foot.

“Scheisse!” He sat bolt upright, feet curling up to him and a hot flush laying claim to his face. It only grew hotter when he saw the mischievous grin levelled at him.

Jester giggled, hopping onto his knees. “Hiiiii Caleb.”

He swallowed. “Uh- H-hallo, Jester.” Oh dear.

She leaned closer, grin widening, and actually this might have been a mistake.

“So, you like, totally need to focus so the dome stays up, right?”

Caleb cleared his throat. “I-ah… Ja.” He barely resisted the urge to push himself backwards.

Jester pretended to think. “Is it super hard to concentrate when you’re sleeping?”

The question spurred a smug snicker from Molly, who was still giggly and floppy, snuggled up to Yasha.

“U-uh… ja.” Oh dear, he was getting jittery.

Fjord snorted an exhausted laugh. “Quit messing with him and get to it.”

“Ja!” Caleb blurted, then flushed red. “I-I mean nein, no!”

Jester laughed delightedly. She loved the game. “Sooooo… don’t stop messing with you?”

“Jester bitte!”

She grinned widely. “Maybe I should just let you go…”

By the way her eyes glinted, Caleb knew she had noticed his hesitation, his startled silence at her words, his lack of real protests. She knew that he wanted this, and the thought had him shrinking back and squeezing his eyes shut.

Jester held back a giggle. Well, if he was going to leave himself open like that…

Soft hands latched onto Caleb’s sides, followed by surprisingly gentle claws scratching at the fabric of his shirt and skin and he let out a loud squeak, flopping onto his side. He was already smiling, he could feel it, trying desperately to muffle further squeaks and giggles that the niggling, playful feeling elicited, shit.

Jester’s smile grew bigger. “Aww, Caleb you have such a sweet smile!” She cooed. Caleb’s hands came up to cover his reddening face, and her fingers shot up under his arms, getting a loud snort and breaking through what little control he had.

Caleb’s elbows snapped down too late, only trapping Jester’s hands in what was, apparently, a very ticklish spot, though he didn’t have the time to think about that given he was trying and failing to control his stuttering laughter. One eye cracked open and he immediately wished he hadn’t, when he saw the fond, knowing grin that Nott was giving him from her bedroll. She knew, of course she knew, and the thought had him burrowing into his own bedroll.

That playful laugh melded with his own squeaky giggles for a moment. “Where do you think you’re going?” Jester teased, even as Caleb burrowed deeper, away from her delightfully horrible claws. Not to escape, even in his growingly delirious state he didn’t want to get away. But there was nothing quite so delightful as being chased.

Fingertips vibrating under his arms already had Caleb cackling helplessly and writhing like a fish on a line, but when Jester’s littlest fingers started delicately scratching at his top ribs at the same time he screeched.

On the edges of sanity, a chuckle broke through. “Oh, this I gotta see.”

Schiesse.

Caleb wasn’t sure it would be possible to curl up into a tighter ball than the one he was in, but he tried his best, as he heard the footsteps coming closer.

It was a mercy that Mollymauk only moved the blanket aside enough to whisper in his ear. “Doing okay there, Widogast?”

Even his breath tickled, Caleb lamented, keeping his helplessly laughing face as hidden as he possibly could.

Molly laughed quietly. At a guess, none present had seen Caleb laugh before, or smile beyond that wry smirk he sported once in a blue moon. And this, this was something else. Who would have thought their wizard could get so melty? A quick glance to Jester confirmed it, they were definitely doing this again. Regularly, if he had any say in it at all.

He let his claws trace down Caleb’s neck experimentally, eyes widening at the full body shiver that ran through the wizard. Oh. This was too good.

Caleb… wasn’t sure if he was capable of thought, anymore. Jester’s hands had migrated to poking and squeezing at his abominably sensitive ribcage, and Molly, damn him, was tracing and scratching at his ears and neck, laughing just close enough that his warm breath brushed Caleb’s skin as well, and everything was tingles and static and tickles.

He hiccupped. “Please- ehe- ohno please!”

Jester’s hands slowed, Caleb could just about make out her disappointed pout. Mollymauk’s teasing claws only continued to trace and skitter around his neck and ears, wiggling teasingly under his chin as he leaned closer. “Please what?”

Jester caught on quickly. “Oooh, please keep tickling you?” She started gently kneading his stomach, getting wheezing laughter and a fiery blush in response. “Oh my gosh, Caleb, you’re ticklish, like, everywhere.”

Caleb whined, past the point of doing much other than curling up into an utterly ineffective ball. “J-Jehester please, Molly!”

Molly’s claws had migrated to wriggle under his arms. He leaned closer, amid the wizard’s incoherent begging. “Do you want us to stop?” He murmured, to quietly for any but Jester to hear.

Caleb knew the answer to that question. “Nein!” He squealed. “Nein!”

Molly pressed a long kiss to his cheek, smiling. “I thought not.” He grinned, then with a parting pat on the head, leapt away to wrestle one of Caleb’s legs from the blanket.

Knowing now that he was safe to, Caleb kicked playfully, as if he had any chance of deterring Mollymauk whatsoever.

He squeaked unexpectedly when Jester wormed her fingers around him to scratch at his lower back. She laughed. “Molly he’s almost as bad as you here!”

He grinned in return, getting a good grip on Caleb’s ankle. “If he were any worse, I think he’d die.”

Caleb cackled his agreement.

“Now, I hear humans have more toes than we do.”

What?

Caleb looked over at him in confusion, panting for breath. “Nein, I do not think-” Then he caught the evil smirk and flushed bright red.

Molly chuckled. “Well, I should count to be sure.”

Caleb mumbled incoherently into his hands, reaching to pull his pillow over his face and shrieking when Jester made as if to dart her fingers under his arms. She snickered. “Aw, I think he’s almost done, Molly!”

“Hmm.” Molly cocked his head at the blushing, giggling lump known as Caleb Widogast. He did seem pretty far gone. But he also seemed happier than Molly had ever seen him, tickle drunk and all.

Always nice to end these things gradually. “Guess I’ll have to take this slow then.”

He noted that Caleb didn’t protest.

He did giggle uncontrollably with every toe that Molly caught between his fingers, wiggling teasingly and scratching a nail up each. Cute.

Caleb was well past the point of doing even as little as curling up in a ball. His mind had become giggly mush, and all his body could do now was shiver and laugh, burying his face in his thin pillow to hide from the world, from anything that would end this sooner than it absolutely had to.

“Hm, you know, I think I’ve actually forgotten how many toes tieflings have.” Molly said, pretending to think, only to quickly knock Jester onto her back and grab her leg too. He smiled wickedly. “Let me check!”

Jester squealed delightedly, already laughing. “Molly!”

He only grinned back, swiping a nail up her sole and getting a loud laugh and sending Jester flopping back onto the ground, right next to a still giggly Caleb.

Molly quickly sat atop both legs, keeping them both pinned and laughing. “Okay, now count with me, you two!”

Jester snorted and burst into loud laughter the moment Molly started wiggling her toes, as much from the silliness as from the tickles. Caleb wasn’t much better, hiccupping with giggles and unable to even try hiding his wide grin from the world. Cuuute.

His eyes cracked open for a moment, squeezing shut again when he noticed Jester’s affectionate gaze on him, arms coming up to cover that smile again.

Oh, no, definitely not, Jester decided, and rolled as close to him as she could with Molly still tickling her like that. Caleb flinched with a loud laugh when she reached for him, only to melt completely into her embrace once he realised what she was doing, burying his face into her shoulder, unable to get rid of the smile for anything.

Molly stopped a moment later, grinning up at the two of them and barely needing Jester’s grabby motion to convince him to join the cuddle pile.

Jester smiled and pressed a kiss to that mess of red hair. Maybe not every human was as different from her as she’d thought.

[cluelessbees]

A concept okay—

Mike and Will are sitting together. Maybe they’re in the upside down hiding in a house, maybe it’s the middle of the night and they’re the only ones awake – but they’re talking and opening up about some stuff from the past. 

And Will goes,

“Do you remember our eighth grade Snow Ball?” 

“Hm?” 

“Y’know…the Snow Ball after El closed the gate?” 

“Oh yeah, right –” Mike pauses, a sense of discomfort grewing in his chest at the recollection of the day. He takes a deep breath, trying to compose himself. “I remember.”

“Yeah….I don’t know if you remember this but,” Will begins – his knees drawn up to his chest and his eyes remaining glued to the ground. “We were all standing together and this…girl came up to me. I think it was Amy Peters or something?” 

Mike clenches his jaw (for unrelated non-jealousy reasons of course), whilst Will continues.

“She asked me to dance and I remember turning to you in a panic because I didn’t want to dance with her at all” Will laughs a bit at the thought (which leads Mike to smile).

“And you just— I don’t think you realised it at the time because you sorta… egged me on. You gave me this look like… 'What are you doing? Dance with her.’ And I didn’t know what else to do in that situation so I said yes…and I danced with her.” It’s silent for a minute as Mike waits for Will to say something or for something to happen– something or anything to finally connect the dots in Mike’s mind – why was Will talking about this? Why bring it up now? What was he thinking about right now? Wh--

“I wanted to dance with you that night”

What?

 “….you did?” 

 “Yeah.” Will breathes out. His voice cracking as he quietly whispers to himself. “I really wanted to.”

And it’s silent again. Because Mike doesn’t know what to say or what to do but he can’t help himself from grasping onto Will’s words – fixating on his face. Even in the dark he can still trace the outline of Will’s jaw, the broadness of his shoulder, the placement of his mole, the curves of his lips--

Wait what?  

“A part of me thought you did too” Will speaks up again, his head now resting against his knees. Mike can’t breathe at this point, his eyes glued onto Will.

“I think I just…wanted to believe you felt the same. I wanted to believe it was possible, y’know?” Mike watched Will's hands tighten its grip on his jeans. “But you told me to dance with someone else, and you danced with El….and you kissed her….”

He pauses.

“And I realised that I was alone in this.”  

“Will—” 

“I’m gonna go check outside for any Demogorgan,” Will starts to stand up, rubbing his sleeve against his eyes. 

 “No Will— don’t go please” Mike grabs his wrist, “I’m really sorry”

“It’s okay Mike. It’s not your fault.“ Mike purses his lips, he doesn’t really know what to say at this point. 

“…..do you know why I told you to dance with her?” 

“You were being a good friend” 

“I was trying to be a good friend” he corrects Will. And Will looks at him confused as Mike sorta gestures to him to sit down again – which he does as he waits for Mike to continue.

 “I didn’t want to be selfish- y'know? The whole year was just…so hard on you. You went through so much and I-I didn’t want to take this— this normal opportunity from you. I thought you deserved to feel normal for once…like— like any other kid.” 

“I regretted it the second I did it.” Mike laughs – but it’s more of an awkward laugh to defuse a bit of the tension. “I remember just sitting there and moping because why did I encourage you to dance with her? What is wrong with me? But then…” 

“But then El came.” Will completes the sentence.

“But then El came…” 

“You don’t have to continue, Mike. Seriously, it’s fine” 

“I want to.” He affirms. “I do….please let me.” So, Will just leans back against the wall and waits for Mike to continue.

“It was just…. I missed her- a lot– I think. And I didn’t think I would see her. And I just remembered how I promised her we’d go together and there she was. It all felt so….surreal…I think– just the whole thing helped me forget about missing you for a second.”

“Which— I know is very fucked up. I didn’t think it through and I was dumb and stupid and young and I didn’t like seeing you dancing with someone else and I just needed a way to ignore that and—- El was there and she was being El and it helped take my mind off of it for a bit.” 

“I really just wanted to spend the night with you,” Mike admits.

“You did?” 

“I did- yeah…..I think a part of it was also just…seeing Dustin and Lucas both starting to care about having a girlfriend or going out and dating and i thought… oh am I supposed to feel that way?”

“I guess I was…. self conscious about it. I wasn’t growing up the way you’re supposed to. And I- I panicked…and I was stupid and you got hurt because of it and I’m so sorry.” At this point, Mike is looking back up to Will, and he places his hand above Will’s. “I mean it. I just– I hate that I hurt you.” 

“It’s fine Mike.” 

“No it’s not— don’t dismiss it. Don’t dismiss it- I hurt you and you’re allowed to be mad at me and you’re allowed to stay mad at me. Because I deserve it. And- this isn’t me self deprecating or anything. I fucked up- I know I did. And it’s okay— I won’t hate you for being mad at me. It’s okay. I’ll still be here and I won’t leave and I’ll work on myself and I’ll show you that I’m better.”

And he pauses before pursing his lips and continuing, looking up at Will. 

“Okay?”

“Okay” Will smiles.

---

There's actually a second part/scene to this but yeah – (lmk if you want it (?))

[clovesnz]

CW some spiraling regarding being accepted w the kink probably contains some internalized shame

I’m overthinking things was it a red flag that he was so immediately excepting of my snz kink? Like I ended up telling him literally the day we confessed feelings to each other, and he told me it wasn’t even that weird, that it was cute, and came over and put his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eyes cause he could tell I was panicking about having told him and told me to breath and that it was okay and he didn’t judge me and in fact it kind of made him excited because he had allergies he’d always been ashamed of. To me this was like, dream scenario, 100% green flags…but then he turned out to be awful (for reasons unrelated to any of that - if you’ve been following you know he continued to sweep me off my feet w snz stuff). Idk how to contend with that. Cause then my ex, they were lovely, but not interested in or encouraging of my kink at all. Which was completely okay, but it just makes me worried, like maybe only weird pervert people pleasers like this recent guy will be accepting of it 😭

I’m legit spiraling abt this and I can’t talk to my therapist or anyone about it because no one knows…idk are there any snzfuckers on here with vanilla partners who have been fully accepting whilst also being good people?? I need reassurance 😭

[enteringdullsville]

Underrated Real Time Fandub Lines: Sonic Adventure 2

“Za Warudo!”

“I’ll make you eat those words!”

Sonic trades barbs faster than his mind can process them.

“THAT’S RIGHT, SONIC! I’M TAKING IT FROM THE oh wait, Sonic isn’t here. Knuckles, I’m taking your emerald.”

Eggman fails to account for the Master Emerald’s guardian.

“SHADOW.”

“Thanks, I forgot who this was! Did we ever establish our names? Hi, I’m Sonic!”

All said in the same angry tone of voice.

“F*** you, moon! You never had the cheese I wanted!”

Doctor Ivo Robotnik, IQ of 300.

“I’m sorry, did you not consent to me saving your life? I’ll put you back down, I’m sorry!”

Knuckles knows not to push his boundaries.

“And now I will control the universe! AND EVERYONE WILL BE ABLE TO WATCH splatoon2letsplays BY EGGMAN! NOW GET IN THE F***ING ROOM!”

I feel like it would’ve been easier to put it on the news while you were taking everyone’s Best Buys, but you do you, buddy.

“THANKS, JESUS!”

Knuckles and the big man upstairs go way back.

“You know I’ve seen my fair share of piss rocks~”

“…You said that really sensually!”

I quote Sonic’s response constantly.

“What you see is what you get! Just a guy who loves piss rocks…and adventure. I’m gonna run now.”

“What the f***.”

From Shadow, that kinda hurts.

“It’s been seventeen days…”

Cut to later…

“THREE YEARS! I’VE BEEN IN HERE FOR THREE YEARS!”

How much time passed between those fades?

“Please stop, Ivo.”

“Uh…HOW DID YOU KNOW MY MIDDLE NAME?”

This can go one of three ways. Either Eggman’s lying to cover his tracks, his full name is Ivo Ivo Robotnik (his actual name is pronounced “Eee-Voh”), or he’s just named “Doctor”.

“I put hot sauce on everything-”

“No.”

Alfred immediately catches on to what Ryan’s going for.

“WOOP! WOOP! THAT’S THE SOUND OF THE POLICE!”

“That rap! It reminds me of her!”

I really want to know what the heck crimes Maria committed.

“I’m here to show you what Ninten can do…and what Za WaruDON’T!”

“That doesn’t even make any sense.”

Shadow as he prepares his epic Earthbound Beginnings/Jojo crossover fanfiction.

“My follower base!”

“And yet they still can’t figure out how to get nazis off their site.”

In which Shadow utterly scorches the entire platform.

“As long as I get my weed back, I don’t really care.”

“I don’t have a character motive.”

The best part is that since Shadow’s been shot down to Earth for reasons completely unrelated to G.U.N., he really doesn’t have a character motive other than being a troll.

“Are you my mom?”

“No? What? The f***?”

Amy the Hedgehog to Tails, who is a boy, a fox, and far younger than her.

“Yes, Rouge. Thank you for listening to my insane ramblings about peeing in a Hot Topic.”

You can just hear the realization hit him.

“NOW GET OUT OF MY F***ING FACE! BEFORE I PISS ON YOU TOO.”

Odd as it may be to put a line from the moon rant in an “underrated lines” compilation, nobody talks about how brilliant a conclusion this is.

“I can’t believe he came to his intervention drunk.”

Really? Because it sounds just like him.

“Here comes the WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEED!”

DJ Inexplicable Talking Gemstone’s new hit rock song.

“Wait, I know you! I saw your dick on Twitter!”

That’s one heck of a way to introduce yourself, Amy.

“When I see you, it is ON SIGHT! IT IS ON! SIGHT-”

“Yeah, piss off.”

The Ultimate Life Form cares not for your threats.

“What the f***, you Hot Topic hot sauce motherf***er, why would you even say anything!?”

“There’s nothing hotter than hot sauce, Rouge.”

That’s not even remotely an answer to the question she asked you!

“But I wanted the last thing I breathe to be pot!”

I always used to mishear it as “pie”.

“I NEVER LEARNED HOW TO REEEAD!”

“That’s not really a surprise!”

Amy’s line was golden as is. Tails’ barely audible snapback is just icing.

“And that is why I! Am the true owner of the world! That’s right! All that you see before you? Everything the piss touches? That is your kingdom! And you, my son, shall go forth and inherit it!”

…what?

“MAN, THOSE BALLS SURE ARE SHAKING.”

Yes, thank you, Knuckles.

“Ah gave birth.”

Another great throwaway line.

“As we know, my dick is on my hand.”

This guy’s about to jack off…

“If I gave Shadow fifteen apples…and then Amy gave Shadow another sixTEEEN…and then Tails took away three…my question is…what is the total mass of the sun?”

“As Obama told me, it’s THREE!”

“YOU FIGURED IT OOOOUUUUUUUUuuuuuuu…ah.”

“Why does it sound like he’s getting further away-this is stupid.”

I think this is the beginning of a beautiful binge watch.

“Wait, that’s no moon, that’s a space station!”

“Nice reference. I also love Star Trek.”

Oh, Shadow.

“Shadow didn’t deserve to die for his piss-”

“Yeah he did!”

“-but here we are.”

She’s not wrong.

“My shoes-my shoes in my reflection are opaque, bye!”

Again, she’s not wrong.

“I’m not understanding any of this, but here’s a gloog.”

We all need a gloog in our life.

“So if we were to all drink piss, does that make you or me?”

“It makes us both avid piss drinkers.”

This explains so much.

“Can I ask you, um-”

“No. Make sure to like, comment and subs-”

No is one of the greatest words in the English language.

“This is a Big McIntosh…”

“Eeyup.”

It took me years to catch that reference.

“This is wagyu steak. Named after the dog, because wagyu tail?”

“WHAT?”

…I got hit by a “deez nuts” joke.

“I’m gonna get a paper towel.” (Grabs a jar of pickles)

Eh, close enough.

“Don’t worry, this one literally has gold on it, so you will die if you eat it.”

“Good, that was the goal.”

Talk about a rich flavor.

“You hit me in my nose! That’s the spot where I don’t like being hit!”

“Well then that’s where I’ll hit you on repeated instances!”

Sonic being a menace to society.

“Hey, that’s some good bars man, y’know I’m coming to kill you right now.”

“…Can you not do that?”

“Uhhh, for how long?”

“Give me at least…y’know fifteen, sixteen…years.”

Followed shortly by Eggman trying to gaslight Sonic into thinking he destroyed the world.

“If they did make a prune juice cocktail, like half prune juice, half vodka, that would be called the ‘factory reset’.”

I have no idea how they started talking about prune juice, but whatever.

“I HAVE…REEFER MADNESS!”

The Dark Story version of Rouge and Knuckles’ encounter is…strange to say the least.

“Hey that’s…”

“Hey, that’s…”

“Hey, that’s…”

“Hey, that’s!”

I think Shadow’s the fake hedgehog around here.

“I’m gonna kill you, and I’m sober now, ‘cause I went to my own intervention!”

Sometimes it just be like that.

“That was completely unnecessary. My back hurts now.”

Screaming for three consecutive years finally caught up with him.

“I diagnose you with DEAD, Wazowski!”

The entire Roz sequence came out of nowhere, and I love it for that.

“IS THIS WHAT HOT TOPIC IS NOW?!”

Not pictured: the epilogue to the Piss Saga.

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

Blanket and hug

A hug

Honestly I wrote like A LOT of hugs considering how un-touchy-feely the Isle kids are?? So, I'm sharing two, because I can't choose just one.

Ginny Gothel and Anthony Tremaine

„Ginny?“

She looks up at him, and abruptly stands up. Her world goes white again, and she tastes metal for just a heartbeat,

„Sunflower, what’s wrong?“

In another heartbeat, he’s hugging her tight, which is probably a good thing. For closely unspecified reasons.

She clings to his shoulders, tightly enough for her nails to hurt him even through all the layers he is wearing, and breathes in through clenched teeth. Then again. And again.

If she’d have to guess, she’d say that the world has returned to its miserable true colours by now, but, you see, checking would require her to lift her head from his shoulder.

Which would be a shame.

She breathes in again and loosens her grip on him.

„What’s wrong?“ he asks again, as if the answer wasn’t „Every-fucking-thing,“ or, alternatively, „Existence.“

Instead, she leans away a bit, his hands moving to her hips, and slowly answers: „I have such soft hair, Anthony–“

He smiles: „I know. I did your hair just this morning, remember?“

As if that was relevant just now.

She swats at his shoulder lightly – don’t interrupt me!

He presses his lips together in an exasperated expression, holding it only long enough for her to notice. Which is, of course, why she pretends she didn’t see.

„As I was saying,“ she starts again, „I have such soft hair,“ („Thanks to me.“), „And no one is playing with it!“

„Oh?“ he flashes a half-smirk at her and runs his fingers along her scalp, „That better, then?“

„Much.“

Harry and CJ Hook

On completely unrelated note, Remedial Goodness fucking SUCKS.

FG likes to pretend the world is black and white, good and evil, light and dark: CJ prefers to think of it as a place of countless shades of gray, swaying back and forth like wild waves on stormy sea, preferably illuminated by hellish crimson flames.

You know, red. Like her cloak.

Anyway.

Speaking of red.

There is another rather tall and rather familiar figure clad in red in between the trees and it’s rapidly getting closer.

„Harry!“ she shouts at the top of her lungs, „Harry is here! Do you see him, Freddie?“

She frantically looks at the Shadow witch to confirm she isn’t hallucinating.

(In her defence, it wouldn’t be the first party that had laced brownies. Well, it would be the first Auradon party, probably. These kids have no idea how to have fun.)

(...Ok, CJ’s taking that back. She definitely saw Chloe Trouillefou and Hailey of DunBroch high at least one time. They had pupils of the size of platters. On the other hand, FG was giving a two hour long course on internet safety, so CJ can’t blame them.)

„Yes. Harry. I see him,“ sights Freddie. Wonderful!

„Also Uma, Gil and Jane. I thought she fell asleep with everyone else.“

Freddie also grumbles something about where her sister, who was supposed to arrive from the Isle today with Dizzy Tremaine and the Smee twins, is, and that she has no idea how the pirates got here and yada yada yada, CJ’s already running to greet her brother.

She hasn’t seen him in ages!

Like, forever!

Not that she missed him. Or Harriet. Absolutely not.

She definitely doesn’t almost crush his ribs when he hugs him, perish that thought! Pirates do not miss anybody!

She squeals when he picks her up and twirls her around in the air.

When he puts her down, she pretends to straighten her skirt and puffs her cheeks, to show how annoyed she is at that treatment.

„You ungrateful little scallywag-“ whispers Harry without any real bite and she grins at him, before turning around and greeting everyone else:

„Hi Jane! Happy birthday! I saved you some, uhm,“ she looks around to check what foods are left, „…Cake pops? And the pumpkin muffins! You like those, right?“

CJ brightens up and waves at Gil: „Gil! You should absolutely try the cake pops! They’re awesome and fresh and sweet! And not poisoned!“

She hopes.

Gil gets a go-ahead from his Captain and CJ finally faces the Sea witch:

„Hi, Uma! Are you and Harry married yet?“

„CJ. There is more important stuff going on right now!“

„…So? Are you?“

A Blanket (share a scene where a character feels safe and loved)

Probably this whole story:

Does CJ feel safe here? Yes. And she will be a bitch about it.

Also, like, every single scene of CJ interacting with her siblings.

[chellyfishing]

i’m trying to finish one last book before my year-end book post goes up so i’m gonna talk about games and tv first. not too many of either to talk about this year tbh but i apparently still have so many words.

no movies post bc i don’t log my films anywhere and i simply cannot remember what i watched. maybe i should make 2024 the year of using letterboxed. not enough to talk about with new music either. 2024 can also be the year of getting back into music.

games: i actually haven’t played much ffxiv this year. well in the first half i sorta did but i have barely touched it since like. august. except to keep my houses from getting demolished. i did finally finish myths of the realm last week, since they wrote that entire storyline for me specifically. i need the minion so bad yoship help.

in march capcom gave me a birthday prezzie with the release of the resident evil 4 remake which i’d had preordered since last year (the only games i’ll preorder and pay full price for are resis and ffxiv expansions). i don’t need to explain this to you. it’s incredibly good, the best of the extremely good remakes so far i think. i haven’t played the dlc yet but i’m excited to think there is more of this game i still have to play. btw ashley defense squad. i’ll brook no ashley slander in my house.

i can’t remember exactly when but i think it was some time in the summer that i finally, finally finished breath of the wild! i’m so behind the curve on this one, but i did at least get to start tears of the kingdom in the same year as everyone else. umm, i have to admit i remain ambivalent to this approach to zelda. i have to challenge myself to figure out how much of that is because iT’s DiFfErEnT but genuinely i think the things i dislike about it, i would still dislike even if i had nothing to compare it against. i really wish i thought it was the best zelda ever like so many do but i guess i just struggle to find a flow state with either of them which is why it’s taking me so fucking long to finish them lmao. still obviously extremely good and beautiful! like still head and shoulders above most games, easily, a good time overall!! (wish nintendo wasn’t the way that it is.)

i should mention that one day in july i fucked around in catlateral damage while streaming for bella. this is a very basic game, literally you are just a cat’s paw knocking things over, but man when you just need a brain-free giggle? it did its job.

also in july i played the sequel to oxenfree, which is a game that i love. this game didn’t click with me quite as much, i haven’t revisited it since i finished it, but there are probably also other reasons i shan’t get into that aren’t the game’s fault. idk i feel a bit unqualified to give a final verdict without playing it to completion but i guess the fact that i’ve had it for months and not bothered to do that yet is a kind of verdict in itself since with oxenfree i went straight back in till i got that final ending and platinum trophy.

for basically all of autumn i of course played baldur’s gate 3. i’m very sad that my extreme anhedonia has hit before i could play the new epilogue. i tried to load up one of my finished games but i ran into a problem because the only way to back up your saves is in the cloud so you can’t shuffle files around or make copies, only overwrite, and don’t get me STARTED again or i’ll start spitting i’m so SICK of PROFIT PROFIT PROFIT AAAAAHH. anyway it’s a pretty good game. i won’t be surprised or mad if neil wins the bafta but it really really should be samantha please if there’s justice in this world.

tv: season 3 of only murders in the building. umm, idk. it’s not a revolutionary show but it’s comforting, it doesn’t feel stale yet, and there’s just a lot of talent at work here. just fun to watch.

i watched almost all of neon genesis evangelion but couldn’t finish it because i decided to have an (unrelated) emotional breakdown instead. i’ll finish it eventually if for no other reason than i owe it to phil. shinji is baby.

finally got to the first season of our flag means death. just a delight. i love fun pirate adventures and i love the queers. unfortunately watched it right before the second season released and haven’t gotten to that yet.

did watch the second season of good omens though. i think they made the right choice to scale it back because honestly once you’ve averted the apocalypse trying to outdo yourself becomes a fool’s errand. also, jon hamm’s butt what who said that.

that’s it i think. as i said no season 2 of ofmd, not even the new flanagan yet which i had really been looking forward to for a long time. i dunno ya girl is struggling to find any pleasure in life atm.

[heytheredeann]

Whumptober, Day 25 - "You better start talking”

Tags: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, (well not a major one but still), Sci-Fi Elements, Immortal Napoleon Solo, Hurt Napoleon Solo, Napoleon Solo Whump, Temporary Character Death, Gen or Pre-Slash, Developing Relationship            

Notes: For the "You better start talking" prompt from day 25 of Whumptober. Also, this was inspired by this ask. ...the title is SO dumb but LISTEN I hate titling things and I wrote that in the draft as a joke and I just...........don't want to come up with anything else, it's too late, I like my dumb little title now LOL This is part of a series of stand-alone fics exploring the same general premise in different ways, because it has a lot of potential for whump. You don't need to read the others to follow this, though I'd say that the first fic in the series might have the most in-depth explanation of Napoleon's situation. Also, as always in this series, the CNTUAW is just because I'm not sure if I should tag MCD, none of the other major warnings apply. Enjoy!

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He mistakes the buzzing under his skin, the weird tingling sensation on his face, for adrenaline fading out after his – almost – fight with Illya, leaving him a little shaky and dizzy now that they are heading out to settle this in a way that will piss both of their handlers off and will leave both of them alive and breathing.

It was, after all, a risky thing that he did there—sure, even if Illya had decided to shoot him in the face right after getting his watch Napoleon probably wouldn’t have been dead for long, but he still gets skittish at the thought of dying, and it makes him a little nauseous, to think of Illya not caring enough to falter on his way to executing his orders.

Or maybe he’s nauseous for completely unrelated reasons, because he is getting a little too dizzy, the world swaying as his knees grow weak and heat rises to his face.

Faintly, he can hear Illya calling for him, but he can’t form the words to answer, he can’t swallow either, actually, because his mouth has apparently been stuffed with cotton and his tongue feels swollen, his head is thundering and he can only be overwhelmed by panic, thinking what’s happening, what’s happening, what—the world tilts, and he’s vaguely aware that Illya likely caught him, because he could feel hands interrupting his fall and the impact against the ground is gentle. It doesn’t make much of a difference, because he’s grown all the more nauseous and he still can’t speak, and the pain in his head keeps growing and growing, until it explodes and takes his breath away, stealing everything around him in the process.

When he next opens his eyes, he’s flat on his back, his ribs painfully cracking under the pressure as Illya gives him chest compressions. He falters when their eyes meet, gaping at Napoleon like—well, like he just came back from the dead. This is just fantastic.

Just great.

He isn’t even sure what the fuck happened: sure, he had been having a bit of an occasional headache after their little encounter with Alexander Vinciguerra, but it seemed okay, a bit of a concussion, he thought—no matter, the very disturbing fact that he just dropped dead without much of a warning – in front of a witness, fuck – will have to wait, first things first—

“Ow, Peril, get off, please,” he grimaces, because Illya is still on him and his chest really hurts—well, at least he apparently put effort into those compressions. Very sweet. Sweetness with his ribs as a casualty.

Though Illya is still staring at him with eyes so big they will probably try to jump out of his head any minute now, he’s quick to scramble off him, never interrupting his staring as Napoleon pushes himself in a sitting position with a wince.

Okay.

“Well, not sure what happened there, but thanks for the rescue,” he says, lightly, and hopefully that will be the end of it.

Of course it isn’t.

[More on Ao3]

[asheewrites]

Would you mind writing about the Raphael meeting Severiel thing? I'm always a sucker for Raphael thoughts and opinion on people.

When the least stressful thing to do after the latest meeting with the Metatron was gardening, of all things, he should have assumed something was wrong. He tried to think back and say ‘yes, there had been something in the air’.

… but who was he kidding, really. This stuff was random. And all he could do to cope with it is keeping a level head.

“For fucks sake.” Which probably meant he had failed step one.

He thunked his head against a… castle wall? Apparently?

Diving into a different universe became somehow more unnerving, now that it didn’t leave him that unsettled anymore.

A quick check of his own self that nothing major had changed about himself. Still a male corporation with long silver hair. Still able to conjure up wind strong enough to lift said hair and regain control over the headache that started to form.

As far as limitations went, it was bearable.

When he opened his eyes, picture frames to the side of him… mumbled?

He turned his head and frowned. Why.

The people within the pictures… moved. And looked at him suspiciously.

After the motions did not repeat itself after two minutes of staring, he straightened his back, smiled gently, nodded towards the pictures – no one else was there to judge – and said: “Hello madams and sirs” – the period clothing seemed to indicate that might be right? - “Can I alleviate any concern?”

“Well! You, young man, were cursing in those hallowed halls!” A portentious female exclaimed and actually walked towards the picture frame, which… was astounding, but miracles can do a lot, maybe it was one? Or technology? The AI got that much better?

“… and I regret doing so, ma’am. I did not intend to intrude and am at a bit of a loss. Could you tell me how I could leave the premises and relieve you of my uncough presence?” That was a positive about the whole universe hopping, he could definitely travel a bit around.

“Hmph!” She emphasized. Sure. “You can’t just go in here! You at least have to speak to the head master! He will see what to do with you!”

It seemed Raphaels presence was deemed undignified and wrong. Which… was a fair assessment. He nodded again: “I shall happily subject myself to their judgement. May I ask for directions?”

“No! But you can follow me.” The lady said and apparently left the picture frame… to appear in the next one. That. Certainly was… “The hallowed halls of Sowguards are not easy to navigate.”

... Sowguards? Something tried to knock at the back of his mind. For some reason, it did not feel good.

“I… who… is the current headmaster?” – it did not hurt to ask, he supposed.

“That would be Professor Severus Snape,” she said primly, skirts waving behind her. Raphael wanted to stop and stare and frown.

At least he hadn't completely forgotten a name. It was just... similar. And... if he looked around with that information, he could remember the layout from some video games he played. It was a bit uncanny.

“I look forward to meeting him,” he bit out. Still reeling a slight bit. Now, would this would be a book or a movie version? Was it related at all? It was a bit insane.

Following her with less urgancy (he knew now where they were going, apparently he had appeared near the kitchens. Which might answer something else), he tried to remember whatever he could about 'Severus Snape' he could. Not that it's a good basis, it might be completely unrelated, but well... not too much upset for the status quo would be a good idea.

She abruptly stopped in her tracks, staring over to ‘the guest’ and seemed disappointed he was not breathing heavily, unlike her: “You… now you… you go straight, then left, then two right… then use the stairs and then you go to the gargoyle.”

“Thank you very much, lady. I wish you a good day”

“Hmpf”

Ah, it was fine. The gargoyle was easy to be found – even with the wrong instructions, she mixed up left and right. And when he whispered ‘lemon sherbert’ to it, the creature did actually blink and look at him, with a frown: “Not been used since ages, mate. What’cha want?”

“Speaking to headmaster Snape, apparently, I wish to leave the premises.” He was… slightly baffled by the stony creature moving and talking, but well, the pictures were a good precursor.

The creature closed its eyes. Ideal to study the wing structure on it’s back: completely nonsensical. After a minute the theoretically unseeing stone slabs ‘unblinked’: “Not the right name, fossils're a bit loopy, but he’ll be there in a minute”

Raphael nodded and straightened his casual wear – jeans and T-Shirt are barely presentable, but he didn’t need to be, not really.

As promised, the man showed up, the gargoyle stepping aside. He was actually dressed in wizard robes. And, wrong name or not, he seemed to be… the movie version.

Which was a little bit uncanny. And a little too close to his own Metatron, face-shape-wise. But… that was… not of import. He might be a completely well-adjusted person, here. The niggling voice that said ‘fat chance’ was… ignorable. Somehow.

The man looked down with the strict expression his movie self had usually worn as well.

“Ah. Good evening. My name is Severin Prince. I am the headmaster and protector of this school. Care to explain what brought you here?” – he gestured towards the now-open doorway behind the gargoyle.

Mh. That was only a conditional threat. Which… maybe was justified. Raphael nodded and took a step inside. A quasi-Metatron in 'Sowguards'. It was… an odd feeling.

[motownfiction]

frosted ground

Lucy’s been looking forward to the meeting for a year already, maybe longer. It’s not like the meeting will be any fun. She knows Mrs. Connolly, and it won’t be fun at all. It’s just that it’s another thing to write on her college applications: that she’s been asked to join St. Catherine’s chapter of the National Honor Society. It’s another chance to remind everyone else in the sophomore class that she’s the smartest student there. It’s another chance to remind herself of the same thing. Lord knows she likes to forget when the sun goes down.

The meeting is in the elementary school gym for some reason. Something about scheduling and capacity. The details don’t matter. What matters is the entrance Lucy’s been planning all week. It’s a Thursday afternoon in early February, and she’s got plans. She’s going to run a brush through her thick dark hair and flip it around as she casually takes her seat, talking amiably with Sadie about something completely unrelated to NHS. She’ll sit across from Nick Crosby and Kim Campbell so they’ll have to look directly at her. It’s a good plan. No one will overlook her that way.

But when she goes to walk across the street toward the elementary school gym, Sadie isn’t with her. She decides to walk across the street with Daniel, who is somehow free of another girl on his arm. Lucy can’t grudge her that. She takes a deep breath and knows she’ll have to pull off the plan in silence. She lets one shoe step on the frosted ground before everything changes.

“Hey,” Will says, coming up from behind to walk beside her.

“Shit, Will,” Lucy says. “You can’t sneak up on people like that.”

“Yeah, but aren’t you kind of expecting me by now?”

Lucy rolls her eyes to keep from giggling. She wishes Will wasn’t so cute. She wishes she didn’t have to be in love with him. But she’s made all the calculations, and the answer always comes out the same. For Lucy Callaghan, being in love with Will O’Connor is inevitable.

“Sure,” she says. “Let’s go with that.”

“I noticed Sadie kinda ditched you over there,” Will says. “And I know you’ve got that plan to make Nick Crosby afraid of you.”

“Nick Crosby is already afraid of me. I just … want to remind him of why.”

Will smiles, and Lucy wishes it was acceptable to just grab him and kiss him like they’re in the middle of a bad movie.

“I get it,” he says. “Well … I thought maybe I’d help, if that’s OK with you. I punched Nick Crosby in the face once. Maybe I can give him a look. Remind him.”

Lucy laughs a little. That’s Will. Just as tough as he wants to be (and just as sweet as he tries to deny). There is no better boy to love. She doesn’t know how she pretended for so long. She doesn’t know how she’s still pretending. All she has to do is say the word, and she could hold Will’s hand all the way across the street and back again. But the word is too powerful. The word is a distraction. Feeling the arm of Will’s coat brush up against hers is already risky.

“Sounds like a plan,” Lucy says.

She knows she’s rolling the dice. But it’s Will.

Seems worth it to play.

[vuldak-juneau]

Juneau could see through his lies nearly as quickly as he could identify when she was being dishonest. His lie wasn’t what she found interesting, though. If she had to suffer this fool, she was at least curious as to why he felt compelled to lie. Plenty of people were going without rest as a compulsory part of their duty, but they didn’t lie about it. “Oh, really? When?” she asked, arms folded and tone direct. She didn’t believe him, and since he had no qualms about making his disbelief in her answers plain, neither did she. “Two, three weeks ago? I see you surveying others all the time, and somehow every time I lay down to rest, wake back up, and just about everything in between there you are. I beg of you–humor me. Why?” 

In an alternative setting, or perhaps a different phase of the moon, his vigilance might not be so irksome, but everything bothered her these days and his presence seemed to be unrelenting. As did his optimism. She blew a puff of breath through her nose. “For now? Sure, now until the next time we get ambushed,” she scoffed. However, if pressed to be realistic they were moving a little faster than she’d expected now that all of those sick with the blight were expired. Perhaps she ought to mourn those souls, but it felt more like the troupe had cut weight from a ship whose sinking was inevitable. 

Her hands settled on her hips as she watched him size her up. Even bundled into every layer of ratty cloth, worn clothing, and scraps of animal pelts she could find she was barely more than a slip of a girl. She was thin–thinner than normal as the journey starved and worn on an already small frame. It was a miracle the few fingers that poked through the hokes and missing fingers of the gloves she had managed to find weren’t lost to frostbite yet. Even so, a foxlike grin crossed her sharp features. However, the smile wasn’t exactly emoting happiness. “Of course it isn’t, but you had to stop and think about it,” she pointed out as if it was a small victory. “What is it my pa always used to tell me? You can’t bullshit a bullshitter? You didn’t fall for it, so I guess that makes you a bullshitter.” 

Juneau thought she had achieved some sort of small victory when he returned to tending the dying embers of his fire. She turned to make her exit again but halted when she heard his voice.  She could have guessed that he would try to tag along. The amount of people whom her protesting would rouse wasn’t worth the trouble, not when she could lose him in the woods. “I guess you better go fetch an ax,” she mumbled irritatedly as she began to march toward where he sat at the edge of the resting area completely unaware that what she said to him mirrored his reasoning for doubting her intentions just seconds earlier.

"I've had plenty of sleep already." He lied, shifting his gaze between her and the fire. She spoke the truth, although they were moving, it was not near satisfactory, some would blame the sick and the injured for that, but Alder only saw them as the ones that needed help the most, and that's what he was there for, even though the needs and urges would soon prevail - he could already feel weakness take over slowly as the darkness inside of him grew stronger in an attempt to survive. "It is enough for now..." At least they were moving, even if not as mucha as one would like, which meant they were getting farther and farther away from the problems of Iskaldrik.

Alder lifted his gaze towards hers finally, taking his time to look at her properly this time as he pondered about what she'd just said, looking for signs of what she was speaking of, but ultimately failing to see how she could be scarier than a creature of the Blight. Maybe youth really was that scary. "Is that so...?" He asked, trying not to sound unimpressed, offering her a soft smile. It was not good to contradict the newer generations as he'd been told, after all, they were the future and it would be best if the future didn't lose hope and bravery.

By herself? In the dark? Without an axe? The thoughts filled Alder's mind for a moment. He placed two of the left few pieces of dried wood in the fire so they'd burn for a few more minutes and got up. "Let's do it then, I'll help you with it." It was important to keep the fire alive as to not allow the group to freeze to death, so even though he knew she didn't mean it when she said she was going to collect wood, it'd be good to have another helping-hand. "You don't want to turn into an ice cube, do you?"