#had to ship these early before Holy Week

[chimpukampu]

Hi @aquaticpal! I'm your Kilton Craft Exchange patron!

Hope you'll like this Deku Shield coaster set and some OOT magnetic bookmarks that I tossed last minute - they're currently en route to your address btw 😂

I cheated a bit on this exchange - this coaster design is a prototype (somewhat rejected style) of my actual coaster merch which will be available in my shop soon, so I didn't spend much time planning this gift. I was supposed to send you 6 of these but I ran out of brown clay, and my supplier can't restock them until next month 😅

These coasters are made of polymer clay and resin so they can handle cold or warm drinks (but not boiling hot or it'll melt the coat), and glow in the dark!

[pseudowho]

Deliverance

Hunting down a monster, you are led to an isolated little town...and into the arms of its enigmatic priest, who harbours a dark secret.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Vampire!Priest!Nanami, monsterfucking, winged vampire, soft!Dom/pleasure!Dom Nanami, loss of faith/disillusionment, enemies to lovers/forbidden lovers, haematophilia, corruption kink

Very much inspired by Mike Flanagan's exceptional "Midnight Mass" which I highly recommend.

Soundtrack: "Take Me To Church" by Hozier, and "All Around Me" by Flyleaf

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The bridge to the mainland lived most of its saltcured life underwater. It rose, skeletal against the fog, as if the wreck of a ship from some bygone era, only twice a day, at low tide.

You were, by now, well-established into this friendly little town; a much-needed teacher to its handful of muddy-toed children. They did now know of your armory, your deadly weaponry. They did not know of your vow to hunt down the monsters that stalked the night.

And, they did not know how you suspected that the beast responsible for the deaths of at least 20 men on the mainland, may be one of their very own. 20 murders all occurring at low-tide, and only low-tide, could not be a coincidence.

They were all scum, you mused to yourself, all rapists, paedophiles and murderers...so perhaps it does have some sort of moral code. It must be here, you reasoned, fingers tapping the woody shelves of your little school cupboard in thought.

Your hunt was hampered by the timekeeping of this sleepy fishing town; often up before sunrise to take to the sea, and back before the sun broke above the horizon, it was not unusual for its residents to sleep during the day, and rise in time for the sunset. Its little church even held an evening mass, attended by plentiful nocturnal residents, after dinner.

"Hello?" A rich baritone, which was beginning to feel so intimately familiar to you, stirred an illicit want in your belly. He called your name. You could not help but run to him.

"--sorry, I'm-- I'm here! In the cupboard!" You called out, breathless in...what? Your rush to get to him? Anticipation? Something...more?

You flurried round the corner, all eager smiles, flyaway hairs and dimples. Your eyes melted so softly upon each others' forms, both sighing with relief. Neither of you knew how the other stirred within.

"Ke--...Father Nanami. What a lovely surprise. You're not usually up so early."

Nanami Kento cut an imposing figure in his cassock and white collar. He was a big man, with mountainous shoulders, and long, broad hands. You remembered the heat that pooled in your belly, the first time he had rolled up his sleeves to help you to move supplies into the schoolhouse, his forearms so alluringly thick and corded. His size belied an easy grace, and the elegant quick-step of a busy, intelligent man.

"I found myself unable to sleep," Kento admitted, his head bowed and hands clasped as he stepped to you. He seemed paler than usual, as he continued, "I was thinking abo--...just, thinking." He finished weakly. His eyes drew so fleetingly to your fast little pulse, thrumming from your throat, down your cleavage. His mouth dried, a double-edged hunger climbing down his abdomen.

"...thinking?" You offered, slowly closing the distance between you. You ached to remove it completely, your respect for his holy vows the only thing that contained you. Kento cleared his throat, running one strong finger between his neck, and corseting black and white collar.

"...wondering. If you would be attending mass. Tonight. I have miss--...you have missed the past week, I believe."

Ah. Yes. There was rarely another time when the homes of the local residents were empty enough to allow for investigation. You had only a few more to ransack, to find your monster, and you could feel yourself closing in on it. You felt a heavy rock of regret in your belly, and you clasped one of Kento's cool, pale hands in your own. His cock twitched, to feel the burn of your flesh against his, in ways so much less intimate than what he had imagined, alone at night.

"I'm so sorry...not tonight," you frowned, and you hurried to reassure Kento as he visibly deflated, "But tomorrow, I promise you. I'll come. Truly." Kento's face, so angular and strong, softened down at you with the hint of a smile.

His hand raised up for a moment, hesitating, before cupping your cheek. You felt your heart skip a beat, the tips of his little and ring fingers ghosting over your pulse point, while his thumb swiped beneath your eye.

"...chalk," Kento whispered, seeing your pupils dilate under his inherent, dangerous magnetism. He wished nothing more than to lean down and taste you, clutched against him and whimpering in the schoolhouse. You heard thunder rumble in the distance, and smelled the petrichor of an oncoming storm.

"...I can't wait," Kento whispered, stepping back from you, with just one backwards glance before sweeping out under the wind and blotting clouds.

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Your hunt had amounted to nothing. Either, your monster was meticulously careful, or your suspicions were incorrect, and it did not reside on this island. There was just one more place you had not explored, and you resigned yourself that you may be heading home sooner than you thought.

And yet, you felt a rope behind your navel, a red string around your finger, holding you here. You decided to complete your final investigation at the home of the priest, who had become the lifeblood that ran inside you, at midnight. He generally stayed late at the church, completing administration. You would be undisturbed.

Armed, rogue-like, you blended with moonlit shadows until you reached the windows outside his bedroom. You peeked through the gaps in the wooden blinds, and were met with an image of Kento, erotic and resplendent, that seared itself into your brain for the rest of your days.

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Kento didn't need sleep, ever since his God had forsaken him. Yet still, he craved that sweet embrace, to take him away from the twisted torture of what he had become. His resolve to die this way, as some fallen angel, had been unexpectedly fractured by the will to live-- fractured by you.

Kento switched the shower off, the last droplets of water running down his back. His cassock and collar were discarded, all woven lies against the skin of a faithless hypocrite. Kento wrapped a towel loosely around his waist, stepped past the empty mirror, and out into his bedroom.

His gut churned to see his empty bed. It had been weeks since he had fed. Years since he had taken a woman for the last time, before taking his vows. Weeks, since you had begun to consume him, mind, body and soul.

Kento had been losing his faith before the change. He had grown further from God, as countless monsters died beneath his teeth. But it was thoughts of you, spread, penetrated and whimpering beneath him, that took Kento beyond redemption.

Kento shuddered at the aching greed within. He lay back on his bed, hair still damp and floppy, but desperate for sleep to grip him and pull him under. His cock, rapidly thickening and tenting beneath the towel, made him curse, one broad arm flung over his eyes, while the other tried to squeeze himself into submission.

Kento squirmed with guilt, his semi-erect cock gripped in his palm. He thought of you, your fingers dipping into your needy wet cunt, the vibrator on your clit doing nothing to relieve the ache in your soul. He thought of the way you had squirmed and begged, to your god, and to him, to be granted your release. He thought of the way you had sobbed as you came, curled round yourself, your fingers desperately trying to reach the sweet spot that would make your orgasm climb all the way into your belly.

He didn't need to imagine it, Kento thought blithely, his thumb now stroking slick pre-cum under his foreskin, and over the sweet swollen head of his cock. He didn't need to imagine it, because he had seen you, through the gap in your curtains in the dead of night. Watching you, a pale angel in the rain, hunting for the forgiveness of a body he couldn't allow himself to sully.

Kento's hand had begun to masturbate himself instinctually, to the thought of you crying out for him. For him, and he could do nothing but pretend he hadn't seen you fall apart, to the dream of him inside you.

Kento groaned, low and rumbling, his hand gripping tightly around his throbbing, heavy length, longer than his thick fist could cover. Dripping with pre-cum, Kento began to fuck into his own fist to lubricate himself. He moaned in time to the memory of you, writhing and mewling against your pillow.

Kento's other arm reached round above his head, and he sunk his sharp teeth into his pillow, licking at it, imitating how he would flick his tongue against your pert little clit with a ragged moan. He pictured you above him, riding his mouth and nose as the length of his cock fucked down your throat to the tune of sweet wet gags. Kento whispered filth into the dead of night, trying to rut himself to orgasm.

"--take it-- good girl...cum down your throat-- cum in my mouth...shit...fuck you through it soon, angel-- promise, I promise--...ahhhh, shit, SHIT--"

Kento cursed, spitting venom, his balls heavy and sore, his own hand so woefully inadequate. His canines had lengthened, his mouth twisted into a teeth-baring snarl, and he gripped his cock harder. Trailing his other fingers to his mouth, sucking on his fingertips with a shiver, Kento pierced them until he could taste the hot rush of blood, imagining it was you quenching his thirst--

At the window, completely unnoticed, you gripped the windowpane, weak-kneed. Your other hand clapped over your mouth. Kento lay naked on his bed, sprawled and ethereal under strips of moonlight, masturbating with gasps and groans that you only wished you could hear.

Those hands, that you had spent night after night, wishing were inside you. That cock, thicker and longer than you had pictured...and oh. The way he rutted into his fist with such devastating ferocity, left you jealous of his hand. Your mouth watered.

What would he do, if you knocked right now? If you offered yourself to him, spread bare and pleading? Would he forsake his vows for you? Would he turn his back to God, as he stroked his cockhead to orgasm between your wet folds, singing your praises, and spattering hot, thick cum over your clit--

You were drawn back out of your head as Kento convulsed, his anguished, sloppy moan breaking through the windows, shooting through you like a knife. You gasped, delighted by Kento's twitching pleasure.

Kento hit his orgasm with the turmoiled strength of a stormfront, breaking. His final image was of you, cradling his sore cock between your legs, humping him inside you while you whispered to him and he whined into your hair and got lost in the smell of you, god, the smell of you, he could smell you now--

Kento spasmed, crying out as cum spurted in heavy stripes up his abdomen, his orgasm threaded with a tinge of horror-- fuck, he could smell you, you were here nearby, he knew the smell of that skin and that blood and that cunt--

Kento sat up with a jolt and a snarl, still gasping, the power of the hunt crashing through him. His teeth bared, animalistic, he wrenched his window up, sticking his head out into the night.

The smell of you, quickly fading, was being carried away by the wind. And Nanami Kento was losing his mind.

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You could barely compose yourself, walking into Church the next evening. The night had crept in fast; another storm churning over the water, was pulling the moon in with it. You felt overburdened with...guilt? Desire? You could not hide it, you were sure.

You could not hide it, as Kento's rich voice embraced the pews. You could not hide it, as your voice trembled its way through hymns. Kento's stern, impassive face remained unreadable, as you took communion from him. You met each others' eyes, both thinking about the same thing; his finger grazed your tongue, and gazed upon your sweet face, open-mouthed and doe-eyed, kneeling before him.

And despite all this, it was each others' company you craved more than anything more carnal. You found excuses to stay, in the church, loitering as Kento bid the crowds a warm goodbye. As the last person left, finally alone, you turned to each other. You both held your breath.

After a few moments, yours released in a twinkling laugh, and a blush, that had Kento's chest clenching in possessive adoration.

"I...have neglected you, father," you offered, brushing your hair behind your ear. Kento huffed, at first, pinching the bridge of his nose, before laughing. A genuine laugh. Deep, velvety, and rich. You were putty in his hands, and he didn't even know.

"Alas...it is the life of the clergy. Our own needs, go...unmet." Kento grimaced, a forced half-smile. His hands clasped over his lap.

You felt the tinge of bitterness at the edge of his words. You swallowed, thickly. Your fate balanced on the edge of a knife.

"Not...not all of them, surely? You could...you could join me for dinner?" You couldn't miss how Kento's eyebrows raised fractionally, his pupils dilating. Kento felt a dangerous hunger.

"I...I'm not sure-- I shouldn't--"

"Of course, you're completely right--" you flapped, taking a step back, and Kento's hunger gripped you back with jealous need.

"...I shouldn't be long here. An hour, maybe? If...if you'll allow it." Kento could feel himself twist under the need to possess you, one way or another. Judging by the smell of you, you would be wet, supple under his lips.

"Perfect," you blurted, standing up on your tiptoes for one happy moment, "perfect. I'll cook. We can...we can talk. I can't wait."

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A brisk knock. You hurried to the door, biting your lip, briefly abandoning dinner on the stove.

"Father," you cried, damning yourself for sounding so excited, "you're here...I'm glad. I was afraid you wouldn't...anyway..."

You hurried back to the stove, leaving the door open. After a moment, you looked up, seeing Kento leaning against the doorframe, looking at with with something...unreadable, in his eyes. He simply stood, drinking you in as you cooked.

"...Father? What are you waiting out there for? Come in." Blinking, chuckling to himself, Kento stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind him and gently placing a bottle of wine on the table.

"Please. Call me Kento. It seems...silly, if we're having dinner, and a night together." You felt heat blossom through you, at the accidental double-meaning behind Kento's words.

Dinner together was soft, intimate, the food and wine smoothing over an already glossy conversation. You were made malleable by the wine. You were intoxicated by him. Kento looked into you with such knowledge of you, that you were laid bare beneath his gaze.

Sat facing each other on the sofa, Kento had abandoned his white collar, the buttons of his cassock and white shirt undone to his chest. He rolled wine around his glass, his head leaning on one hand, smiling as you talked. The wine made you stupid, and you blurted out;

"Why? Why...did you join the church, Kento?" It was, in part, rhetorical. A cry of despair against the crime of Kento being made untouchable. His answer surprised you, and you found yourself shuffling closer as he talked.

"I ask myself that same question every day. Ever since..." Kento bit his tongue, thinking of the night he was turned, on a missionary trip abroad. Thinking about the day you walked into his parish, setting him aflame with unquenchable burning thirst. Kento cleared his throat, swirling his wine. He felt his primal magnetism drawing you to him like a moth to the flame, and he could not stop himself.

"...I have become...disillusioned, with the church. I am...torn," Kento admitted. Your knees were touching his now, and you leaned towards him with lovesick eyes. Kento felt the thrill of the hunt, feeling the sting of his teeth lengthening. His cock twitched as your breath passed over his cheek.

"...torn?" You felt a quiver of fear now, in the way Kento's eyes darkened, his hand slipping over to grip behind your knee, pulling you into his lap. He set aside his glass. It should have rung alarm bells. You were so drunk, but you had only had one glass of wine. Kento smelled so intoxicating. You were warm, floppy as he pulled you to straddle his lap, cupping your face with both hands.

"...torn," he whispered, his nose brushing yours. Kento's hunger overtook his panic for you, a victim to himself. Kento whispered against your lips, watching your eyes flutter closed, your head heavy and lilting to the side, exposing the pretty thrum of your throat to him.

"...torn," he continued, gliding his tongue up the pulse in your neck, feeling his cock jump against your clothed pussy, "...all because of you...if God has forsaken me, I hope he never wants me back. If only you would let me worship you, instead."

Kento's lips hovered over yours, barely quelling his urgent need to feed on you, until you whimpered his name. Kento snapped, and pulled you in by the back of the neck, crashing his lips to yours with the ragged groan of a starving man.

Your head swam with Kento, clutching his open collar and falling against him, allowing him to devour your mouth with bliss. You murmured against his lips, sloppy and licking, tasting the sweet allure of him, and his grip on the back of your neck grew crushing, his weight now bearing over you to press you back into the sofa, a sharp sting on your lip--

"Ow! I...ugh, sorry...I'm bleeding--"

As you moved to sit up, shocked back out of your reverie, Kento had pushed himself back to the other side of your sofa. One hand had clasped over his mouth. He trembled, and shook, white-knuckles clasping the sofa. You heard a sharp gasp, as if Kento was in pain.

With blood on your lip, you reached for him-- and stopped. Your eyes fixed on the switched-off television opposite you both. You stood, slowly, moving towards the hallway, and your bag, trying to control your terrified little heart.

"I'll just...get a cloth, for my li--"

As you pulled a blade from your bag, standing up to spin around, you were thrown back to the wall, your head cushioned by Kento's hand. You cried out, feeling him bracket you against the wall, his cassock now abandoned, his form seeming to grow and swell before you. Kento's face pressed to your neck, and you felt the hot throb of his growing cock against your belly.

You stood this way, both panting into each other, your knife pressed over Kento's heart, and his teeth pressed to your throat. Your heart broke, fragile beneath Kento's twisting form, and hungry mouth. You hiccuped, your hand and resolve faltering.

"...I never wanted...I wish it wasn't...why did it have to be you?" You sobbed, your arm starting to lower. Kento growled against you, already two feet taller, his enormous chest trapping you in against the wall. You felt the lights blotting out around you, as vast, black, velvety wings unfurled from Kento's back.

"...always...you always knew...just couldn't accept--" Kento gasped, his tongue darting out against your neck, ridged and trembling. His chest burst with pain to feel you sob beneath him.

"I can't do it," you cried, your knife hand lowering again, "just take what you want, because I can't-- I love you-- I'm not strong enough." Kento's teeth gritted, his face crumpling against the soft copper scent of your skin. His enormous hand gripped yours, raising the knife to press to his chest. You gasped and cried out, resisting his pull; a bead of blood sprung up around the tip, pressed to Kento's chest.

"From the moment you arrived," Kento growled, his teeth pressing gently over your pulse point, starving and needy, "...my life...everything I am, has been yours to take. I would know you, blind and deaf...and I would be honoured, for you to take my life as penance for my sins."

You gritted your teeth, completely releasing your grip on the blade. It clattered to the floor. You reached up to trail hands up Kento's enormous, powerful shoulders. Your fingertips grazed the soft base of his wings, and Kento shivered, shuddering into you. He felt a dribble of pre-cum soak his stretched, ripping boxers.

"Then I condemn you to live, Kento," you whispered, pulling his face up to yours. His pupils were dilated, bursting with lust, inky black in pools of crimson, "...and take me. However you want me."

Kento snarled at you again, pressing himself to you, pinning your arms above your head with one thick hand; "You have no idea what you're asking for," he hissed, "I will eat you alive." He felt you tremble, seeing the golden resolve in your eyes. You leaned forwards to his mouth, begging.

"Then eat me...or fuck me, like you fucked your hand to me."

Kento cursed, snapping, lifting you against him. You wrapped your legs around his hips, feeling Kento reach down to shred the clothes off himself, completely absorbed by the need to possess you, to love you.

Flung backwards onto the bed, you gasped at Kento's monstrous form. Eight feet tall, broad and exquisite, his great black wings folded and unfolded against his back. His aching cock dripped with pre-cum, so much bigger than when you had seen him cum into his own hand. His face, still undeniably Kento, stared into you, owning you. Heat pooled between your legs, as he grasped his cock in one great hand, groaning and shuddering.

You crept forwards, still drunk on him, and his nephilim glory. Kento's hand stuttered around his cock as you licked the tip.

"--fuck-- too big for you-- you can't--" Kento uttered a strangled moan, to feel your hot little mouth engulf his cockhead, your lips stretched wide, gulping him to the back of your throat, all hot little licks and sucks. Every fibre of his being needed to buck forwards into your mouth, and you felt two great hands tangle in your hair.

When your hands joined your mouth, stroking down his aching length, masturbating the parts of his cock your mouth could not reach, Kento rutted involuntarily. Moaning, begging and whining your name, his voice ran deep and ragged around his sharp canines.

"--darling, I-- shit I-- so good...so good for me...taking me s--so well, haaaaah...not-- can't last-- like this--"

You hummed around his cock, swallowing down a trickle of salty pre-cum, feeling the gentle pressure of his fingertips against your head. So aware of his size and strength, Kento handled you like a china doll, with the utmost love and affection. Kento moaned with abandon, his head thrown back, his great wings furling and unfurling with divine pleasure.

Swallowing around Kento's thick tip at the back of your throat, you felt his cock leaping in warning. Kento tried half-heartedly to pull you off him, whimpering and moaning with fractured cries of your name;

"--can't swallow-- s'too much-- ohhh fuck, my love-- c-cumming, I'm cumming-- fffuuuck yes, swallow-- all of it--"

You squeaked as his cock jolted and twitched in your mouth, Kento's balls clenched tight as he hunched around your mouth, pressing your head to him. Your mouth and throat flooded with Kento's bitter seed, cooler than that of a normal man, and you swallowed him down with pride. Kento's groans and breaths ran ragged, as you licked him clean.

Kento panted, glossy-eyed as he came down from his high, his cock still half-hard against his thigh. Crowding your body against the bed with his, his fingertips grazed the dress you wore, before ripping it from you with a bared-teeth growl. You felt your bra snapped in the middle, as if it were paper. Your breasts heaved, nipples peaked under Kento's ravenous attention.

Poking his tongue out to tease it over one hard nipple, you felt your clit throb to feel the otherworldly ridges and grooves running along his tongue's sides and tip. Whining as he sucked your pebbled nipple into his mouth, you shuddered to feel Kento's sharp teeth graze your sensitive peak. He savoured you, lathering your nipple against his tongue, until you felt you could cum from that alone.

His other hand rose to engulf your second breast, your nipple rolled so tenderly between two great fingers. You felt a trickle of arousal soak your underwear. Kento could smell it, and pressed his hand to your lower belly, feeling vaguely for the telltale swell of ovulation.

"...made a mistake, angel...letting me take you like this-- nothing of you left, by the time I'm done with you--mine-- all mine-- fuck--"

Trailing kisses down your belly, sniffing you and eager to fill you with his smell, his body thrummed for you. Kento threw your legs over his shoulders, ripping the sides of your underwear and tossing the scraps aside.

His eyes fixed on your pussy, slick and clenching. Kento shuddered, feeling his cock beginning to bound to life again. It flopped, heavy and twitching against his thigh, filling again in preparation to fill you. Kento felt a vague desire to ensnare you, trapping you inside his drunken intoxication, to fill you, and fill you, and fill you, until your belly swelled, oozing his thick, white seed.

"...Kento...please..." Your sweet begging pulled Kento out of himself. Despite his monstrous form, his face softened, his eyes fixed to yours as his tongue, long and ridged, stretched out of his mouth. You saw stars as it lathed insistently from side to side, spreading your folds, stroking back and forth over your aching, pearly clit.

Kento mumbled into your pussy, tasting you, his long tongue fucking into your cunt while his nose nuzzled your clit. Mewling, your hands flew down to sink into Kento's hair, and you felt your hands grasped and pinned against your belly. Kento knew, with a faint pang, that if your fingernails scratched against his sensitive scalp, he would surely spill his seed all over your floor.

Kento draped his other forearm over your belly and hips, pinning you down as you twisted beneath his attention. He lapped, sucked, and nipped at you with the softest bites to your clit, his tongue fucking in and out of you with inhuman dexterity.

You bucked your hips down the bed, eager to feel his tongue sink into your deepest parts, and Kento obliged with a wet moan. You felt his tongue lathe against your spongy spot, pinned down as he devoured you.

"--just there...harder please, please-- god I need your cock in me, please-- fuck me please-- please--"

You begged and pleaded your way to orgasm, your arousal seeping out around Kento's tongue as you came with a jolt and a cry, your thighs clamping around Kento's head, feet tickling against his sensitive wings. Kento continued to fuck his tongue in and out of you, lathering you with his spit, tasting your arousal, desperate to taste more of you.

You reached down, trying to pull Kento up your body. He almost laughed at your casual management of a true to life vampire, about to fuck you into the mattress. Kento allowed it, settling above you, his pupils narrowing at the insistent beat of your throat. Suddenly, and with a strangled growl, Kento knocked your head aside, his teeth grazing at your throat, and his monstrous cock throbbing at your entrance.

You trembled beneath him, heaving and gasping from your high. All of your resolve left you, beneath his tongue, and you uttered words you knew to be true;

"...I trust you, Kento."

Kento pressed into you, with teeth and cock and a husky moan. You felt a sharp pierce at your neck, his teeth just deep enough to feel the hot splash of your blood against his tongue. Kento almost finished then and there, his seed threatening to spatter into your folds and entrance, instead of in your belly, as he had promised himself. Kento drank you, his mouth clamped around your neck, one great hand cupping your head to the side while the other gripped your hip.

With a squeak and a protracted, broken moan of his name, you felt Kento's cock stretch through your wet velvety walls. You squirmed, trying to climb up the bed, feeling Kento growl around your throat and yank you back down.

Kento was enormous, by far the biggest cock you had ever taken, splitting you with a dull sting. Your fluttering hole soothed as Kento began to rut his length into you. His red, leaking tip bullied your cervix, bumping it up against your womb, with inches of him still outside of you.

You uttered strangled little moans, completely pinned beneath his hulking form, feeling him rut as much of his cock inside you as he could fit. With a shiver, Kento denied himself of any more blood at your throat. His tongue stroked your wounds, clotting the blood there, as he fucked gently into you.

Kento's wings caged you both in, and he stared down at where his cock tried to stretch your pussy out with dopey, lovesick eyes. A trickle of your blood ran down from the corner of his mouth, and he was struck with a sudden burst of pride for you. Kneeling back, Kento pushed your knees up to your chest, crushing over you in a mating press.

You writhed, as Kento managed to sink more of his cock into you, groaning which each stroke he watched enter and pull out of you. Your slick formed a translucent white ring most of the way down his cock length. Kento was eager to see it drip down his balls. He gasped down at your prone, fucked-out form, and gently began to press and roll the fatty flesh around your clit, making you buck up into him with pathetic little mewls.

"--fit it in--fit all of me in...if you cum again-- fuck you through it, baby...fuck you through it...fuck you through it..."

Kento repeated this like a mantra, every gradually strengthening thrust into you taking him deeper, your pussy stretched to its limits around his terrifying girth and length. Leaning over where you joined, Kento spat a smooth mouthful of spit, stroking it around his base, lubricating you both, before upping his pace and intensity again.

You cried out, head thrown back as you arched, feeling Kento so deeply that you clasped your belly. Kento planted one hand over yours, his fucks growing gradually more feral as he bared his teeth, determined to finally take what was his, after so many years of miserable self-denial.

"--mine make you mine make you mine--leave it behind...leave it all...for you...shit-- so tight, just--milk it out-- all my cum-- all yours, I swear..."

As you came, your pussy clenching and spasming, Kento finally bottomed out. His head flung back with a cry of success, slamming into you with abandon as he chased his high, desperate to see you filled with his cum. Cursing, and spitting, teeth bared and blacking out the room around you with his wings, Kento came with a roar, and you felt your pussy and belly flooded by him.

His cock jerked long, protracted twitches inside you, spurting thick bursts of cum, with nowhere to go but up, plugged by his enormous girth. You were pliable and dazed, taking it with the sweet relief of his love for you, his seed soothing your swollen inner walls like a balm.

Kento faltered above you, staggered and dazed. Keeping his cock stuffed inside you, manoeuvring himself onto his side, he swept one great wing beneath you, and one above you. You felt yourself cocooned, sleepy and full, reaching into hand up to tangle into Kento's hair. He pressed a lazy kiss to your palm.

"...you're a...terrible vampire hunter..." Kento slurred, fading out into soft snores, just seconds later.

He's not wrong, you reasoned to yourself, wondering and drifting to sleep in his arms and wings, maybe he'll help me.

[nyashykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Pirate King! Jinwoo x Siren! Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 033 ✦ ┆・

[ TW: Yandere Jinwoo, Violence , all Shadows Mentioned are in Human Form ]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ Part 1 || Part 2 ♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

╰┈➤ ❝ [ I'll Bind Myself To You Over and Over ] ¡! ❞

Jinwoo continued to look for another week, but for some weird reason— The sea was incredibly calm.

Too calm.

It was maiing Jinwoo very restless, and his crew could see it. Igris tried to reason with Bellion and Beru to do something, anything to make their captain stop pacing back and forth on the dock. Even Iron couldn't do anything and would only take over the wheel.

No one in the ship knew what to do, even Tusk's famous fish stew wasn't doing it.

...

"Iron." Jinwoo's strict voice suddenly says as he strides towards the wheel.

The man didn't say much and only moved aside as their captain took over and suddenly spun the wheel rapidly.

"Bring down the sails!" He orders, and everyone suddenly scrambled on their feet to prepare the sails.

They didnt know what was on Jinwoo's mind, but they could tell that determined expression on the man's face was deadly.

"Captain, there's one far ahead on the east!" Kaisel reports.

"Get everyone ready, I want that ship." Jinwoo simply said as he had Kaisel take over. "We wont use the cannons.

There was a hammering feeling inside Jinwoo since early morning, and it was bothering him way too much.

His breathing had been erratic since then, he's never been this anxious even when he faced the holy emperor in the palace and had the old bastard bowing on his feet soon after.

But that's a story for another day.

That's not what's important right now, Jinwoo just knew, he needed that damn ship.

His instincts were never wrong, that's why he was crowned as the pirate king. Jinwoo's gut feeling have never failed him.

And for some reason, the direction of the ship is nagging the living hell out of it.

Jinwoo's grey gaze would land on his men who were utterly confused on why he ordered them not to use the cannons.

"There's something on that ship that I need," He simply said

"An illegal ship, sir?" Bellion asks as he handed Jinwoo his gun.

"Yes." Jinwoo confirms. "Whatever the hell is on that ship, I need it."

There were no further questions asked as the rest of the crew brandished their swords and loaded their guns.

The people on the other ship noticed the mother ship approaching and panicked, blaring the sirens— Warning the rest.

Pure chaos.

But soon, their expressions would pale as a rain of ropes suddenly blasted from the air and hooks embedded themselves on the wooden floors.

Thunderous, proud roars would come from the invading shifts as well as maddened cackles resounds. A bunch of wild pirates would come, climbing the ropes while behind them were gunfire— Preventing the defending parties to take time and prepare as bullets flew by and making men collapse here and there as psychopaths invaded the docks and started stabbing strangers; mauling them into pieces.

"...." Jinwoo's gaze was still steadfast, only firing a few bullets as he walked on the rope hurriedly.

His kids can do whatever the hell he wants, he needed to be somewhere else.

"Secure the ship, get the captain on his knees. If he runs, break his legs" Jinwoo commands, shoving a bloodied sword on Igris's chest as he passed by him.

He didnt even think twice to properly open the door and just shot the handle open, as well as gunning down some baffled crewmates inside the rooms.

Jinwoo continued to walk, his steps heavy and fast with purpose. slamming open some doors, unlocking gates before reaching the very end of the ship.

Blood splatters were on his face now, painting a wicked

Right at the very bottom, inside this giant moss-covered aquarium was a hand peeking on the little glass.

"...." He takes a deep breath, placing his palm against the glass were that small hand peeked.

There, a small light would come out as a warm feeling spread through his chest right where his injuries are.

"There you are, my bride" He whispers, jumping on top of the aquarium and hanging on the ledge as he lunged his arm inside the dirty waters where another palm would grasp his.

Jinwoo pulled the figure up, his other arm wrapping around the other's waist as he kissed the side of their head.

He felt as if that a heavy burden finally lifted off of his shoulders. But as much as Jinwoo wanted to just bask in the moment, he noticed the siren's tail was almost bald in some spots— Lacking tose fluorescent scales and instead a few gashes would come into view and his gaze would harden.

Jinwoo shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around his siren before hoisting them out of the filthy aquarium.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Up in the docks, the floorboards was pooled with blood as Beru overlooked his crewmates celebrating their small impromptu ship invasion.

He would beam as he hears the door behind him creak and Jinwoo figure would emerge but his mouth would form a thin line as he sees the glare on Jinwoo's face.

Beru swears, that maybe he saw purple in that hardened gaze.

He knew that look so well, it was the type of face Jinwoo made when he rescued his sister from the clutches of the holy family.

Jinwoo is out for blood.

"A siren..." Igris whispers as he sees the humanoid in Jinwoo's arms wrapped in his coat.

"That captain, the damn bastard" Jinwoo snarls, his tone riddled with venom. "I want him in the dungeon. Have Iron prepare my equipment and station him there until I come there."

He then continues, "Igris, Tusk, with me. Bellion will take over from here and Kaisel will watch the ship."

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

You didnt know what really happened, you were just resting on a rock after hunting for the whole day when there was a sharp pain on the back of your head. The next thing you knew, you were strapped on a bed with your delicate scales being plucked out forcefully as the humans laughed at your display of pain.

Your shrieks would be ignored as they wore something over their ears while cotinuing to take one scale after another.

The torture was long, you couldn't even count how many have passed as you were in and out of conciousness the whole time.

The humans who captured you didnt even have the heart to give you a proper meal and only tossed some bland seaweed to the poorly kept tank.

You swore, you were about to die— Until a familiar warm hand grasped yours and yanked you out of the dirty waters. Your eyes had been too heavy for you to open, and neither could you make out the sounds around you.

All you knew— Was that you are safe and sound.

The next time you opened your eyes, you are cuddled up in this soft... White things hugging your body, as well as a pair of grey eyes gazing into you.

Initially, you freaked out, thrashing about but the man gently held your shoulders to keep you steady.

"Hey, hey, ssh, it's okay," His voice would register, and your gaze would look up to see him. "Look at me, look at me, do you know who I am? Hmm?"

You can understand him.

Alarmed and curious, you reach your hand out to touch his cheek, and the man only responds by nuzzling your palm and kissing it.

A familiar gesture, a gesture a small human boy did when you were younger.

Jinwoo.

"Remember me?" Jinwoo asks again, and you nod your head.

He lets out a relieved sigh and pulls you in for an embrace.

"I've been looking all over for you, my bride" He whispers so tenderly, kissing your cheek while rubbing your back. "Look at you, my siren, you're so pretty now. But they hurt you so bad, hmm? I'm sorry, I should've come earlier, love. I really am, but it's okay, you're okay. I'm here. I wont leave, I promise."

His gentle voice stirs something in your chest, and you could only respond by nuzzling him further while making soft broken sounds.

"Ssh," Jinwoo hushes you, rubbing your head. "Tusk said that you'll need more rest, sirens heal slower than humans. But since you're bonded to me, it should speed things up"

He pulls back, fixing your hair as you looked down and saw a blanket on top of you, but underneath wasnt a tail.

"It's legs," He chuckles, kissing your cheek. "It must be because you're near me, but don't worry, we can get your tail back. We just... erm... Need to figure it out. We'll do that once you're better, yeah?"

He cooes, peppering your face with more pecks that brought out a giggle in your lips. Jinwoo takes your hand, placing it on his chest where the mark was.

"Go to sleep now, I'll be here in the morning and the day after. Even in the following days" He whispers, gently tucking you back in as he did. "Don't worry about anything else, clear your mind."

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

"Captain, the hostage is awake" Kaisel knocks on the door gently. "Your equipment has also been brandished."

"Good," Jinwoo hums, running his hand on your hair before getting up. "Watch over my siren. Should the pretty thing wake up while I'm in the dungeon, call me immediately."

He continues, "After this, I'll host a party for all of you."

Kaisel simply nods, smiling as he watches the captain got out of the quarters.

His gaze would turn cold in an instant, Jinwoo marched down to the dungeon area of the ship with his fists tightly closed.

That bastard dared to actually hurt you, your injuries were so extensive that your tail was almost grey from the abuse. When it turned into legs— Anyone would have vomit at the sight of cuts and peeled skin. It took so much willpower for Jinwoo not to have broke down as Igris, Tusk and Beru worked together in patching your injuries.

"I wonder what kind of scalpel you used" Jinwoo hums, running his hand along the neatly arranged set of daggers on the table as Iron dragged the bastard on the floor in front of his captain. "Scalpels are too delicate, making them very useless on the field."

He then picks up pliers, making the man squirm and sob on his gag as he attempts to crawl away but Iron kept him steady.

"Easy there, buddy" Jinwoo chuckles, his grey orbs turning into monarch purple. "I haven't even started yet,"

He then sits down on the chair prepared for him.

"For every scale you plucked out of my bride's tail, for every single day you kept that pretty doll captive, for every second you spent making them writhe in pain— I will make sure you experience all of it tenfold if not a hundred."

꒰ A/N: Mentally so exhausted I think I'm on writer's block wheeze. I should write for another character for the meantime until I get my creative juices on Jinwoo back. Tysm to you @sylusjinwoon for this request uueeeee. I hope u like it bestie<33!!! Anyway, next fic is either gonna be a Baek Dohwa Fic or a Dr. Zayne fic. ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Like a Podium - Charles Leclerc

<word count - 790>

Today was the day you had been waiting for for weeks. You were waiting for your boss to knock on the door of your office and tell you you had gotten the promotion you had so desperately wanted for ages.

It was either that, or you waited all day until you heard that someone else had gotten it. Charles had also been waiting on this day. If you didn't get it, he didn't know what he would do with himself. Seeing you upset broke his heart into a million smithereens and, what made it worse, was that there was nothing he could do to fix it. All he could do was hold you and be there for you. 

You hadn't typed so much as a letter on your screen, as every time you heard footsteps past your door, you sat bolt upright in hopes of the door opening. Lunch had gone by, with no word from anyone.

You and a few other coworkers were all on edge for the whole day, but now it was getting bad. You were sat back at your desk, your knee bouncing up and down and your hands shaking. You wanted it so badly.  

The door finally opened and your boss stepped in. "Hey, can I talk to you in my office for a minute?" he asked, and you nodded as you stood and smoothed your skirt out.

As you walked through the office, people looked at you. 

You sat down on the black, leather chair in front of your boss' large, oak desk. You could see yourself sat where he was one day, getting to make people's days like he could be about to do to you. 

"We know you haven't been here very long, but we have found your work to be to an excellent standard," he started, leaning forward on the desk. "But, we would like to offer you a promotion," there was nothing more that needed to be said.

You spent about half an hour, discussing pay rises and office changes. You felt on top of the world. As you left the office, a grin plastered on your face, some people looked at you with congratulating smiles, others side-eyeing you with disdain and jealousy. 

You were even allowed to leave early for the day as a small reward for your work. You hopped in the car as you slowly drove home, formulating a plan of how you would tell Charles. 

You decided to tell him that it had gone horribly wrong, and you were going to try and cry. Looking at yourself in your car mirror, you stared at your reflection until your eyes were watering. You rubbed them a bit as well to try and make them a bit redder.

You ruffled your hair for good measure as well. Silently, you walked through the door, before hearing footsteps approach. "Hey baby, how'd it-" he started, before his eyes fell on the redness of your eyes. 

"Oh, sweetheart," he said, rushing up to you and wrapping his arms around you. You pretended to sniffle against his shoulder as he pulled you in tighter. "You're going to hate me," you mumbled into his shirt. 

"No, baby, I could never hate you for anything like this," he said, his heart shattering into millions of fragments. Pain coursed through his veins as he looked at you, eyes red raw and mascara streaming down your cheeks. 

"You're going to hate me because-" you started, but were cut off by him pushing you out of the hug and holding your face in his hands. "Baby, I could never hate you-"

"Charles, you're going to hate me because I'm a fucking liar. I got the promotion," you beamed at him, watching as his face turned from comforting sadness to elation. "Holy shit, I'm so proud of you!" he yelled jumping up and down.

You leapt on him, wrapping your legs around his waist. "You're amazing!" he said into your neck. "I am at your service, your promotion-ship," he said, putting you down and bowing at you. 

"I'm so happy," you smiled, hugging him again.

"How does it feel?

"It feels like whenever you get a podium or a win. It's pure happiness and adrenaline and excitedness," you told him, his smile growing even wider. 

"You deserve it more than anything, baby," he said, sitting you down on the couch. "What do you want for dinner? You can have whatever you want,"

"What's the most expensive place we know?"

"If that's what you want, then that's what my girl will get," he smiled fondly at you. His smile lit up every room and there was no problem it couldn't solve. This was the feeling of being on the top step of the podium, and you were never coming down.

|masterlist|

[lucysarah-c]

What do you think about Levi not mentioning Farlan and Isabel throughout the anime? They were literally his first real friends and family. Even in their deaths he was frustrated. But strangely we don't see any flashback scenes about them or Levi talking about them. It's obviously disturbing to me.

I have an Oc an underground childhood friend that I ship with Levi in particular and I didn't write their story down, but it makes me think that if my character was in danger or if she died with Farlan and Isabel or if she ended up dying long after their deaths, Levi would never remember her or talk about her, just like Farlan and Isabel's deaths, and that bothers me.

I know it's a bit strange to get this kind of analysis-like question since you are a Levi writer's blog. But since I love your writings and I really liked and found comfort in your answer to anon's question about whether Levi likes weak people. Because I am also a person who gets caught up in rumors and doubts whether Levi will like us or not haha.

Anyway, I don't want to deviate too much from the subject and make it too weird. You can answer question if you want.

Hi, sweetie! Oh, I see. Yes, I understand where you're coming from. First of all, I'd like to thank you for saying that you love my writing, and I'm so happy you found comfort in my answer about Levi and a "weak person." It's alright that we get lost in what the fandom discusses too frequently; it has happened to me too. And do not worry, rest assured, I don't find these "analysis questions" weird at all. Though my analysis will never be as good as my close friends', like my friend Sushi who used to have a meta-analysis blog of SnK or Cosmic! They are beyond amazing.

But to answer your question, before I get lost in my thoughts, long story short, Isayama is extremely bad at writing emotional connections in my humble opinion. In my personal group chat with my SnK close friends, we discuss this in great detail at least twice per week haha. In my opinion, Isayama is a writer or a storyteller who struggles to find a balance between keeping the plot going and creating a cohesive society and interrelationships between characters. I personally think that the story was always advancing so fast, full gas, no stop, that we hardly got any real details about the characters that made them human beyond their mere roles in the story.

I always use as an example, if one chapter in the manga or anime started with different panels of the veterans getting ready and sitting down all together for a meeting, we could have seen how their personal chambers were, how their interactions were not only between them aside the presence of the cadets, but we could have also seen how they confront early mornings, if they had paintings of loved ones, flowers on their desks, etc. It would have taken ... 5-10 pages at most, and we could have learned so much. It's something I even keep in mind while planning my own stories; I have an entire notebook of "backstory" for all the characters of Holy Ground, canon or not. So when the time comes around, I can drop little details of their lives here and there because... Let's be honest, has someone ever sat down next to you and said "here, let me tell you my whole life"? No, usually, you get to know someone organically, and that's also what, in my opinion, should happen in stories.

Now, going back to why Levi doesn't talk about Farlan and Isabel. Well, my best answer to you is, sadly, another question. Tell me one scene in the whole anime or manga where Levi was having some quality time with someone he felt comfortable enough to open up and talk about fond memories, be vulnerable, or even crack a joke about some silly hormonal stuff he did as a young man with Farlan. Tell me, I will wait... Haha.

Levi doesn't talk about Farlan or Isabel because he doesn't have screen time to talk about almost anything besides the plot moving haha. I would put my hands on a burning fire and swear that Farlan and Isabel are still extremely important to Levi! And so would be your OC! Don't let Isayama's literary limitations fence your story. That's my best advice; explore feelings that he didn't have the production time for (perhaps he wasn't allowed to write about it because of financial stuff) or he simply wasn't good at it.

Hope that helps!

Love ya!

[blaperile]

Homestuck: Beyond Canon (reactions page 667 - 694)

Ok it's been a busy few weeks but I finally got around to writing this reaction, haha

So, I was correct that we'd be getting a perspective switch to someone other than Vriska. The question is how long it will take before we see her again.

In a meta way I think page 888 would make the most sense. I suppose that means Vriska wouldn't play a role in the huge upcoming confrontation flash? Unless Vriska does escape 'hell' WITHIN the flash? Maybe we just get to see a silly montage of Vriska refusing to hug her other self, as a comic relief betweeen some other intense scenes, until she eventually does and then still plays a role in the confrontation.

We'll have to see!

But anyway, dang this was an intense update.

Jade made a shield to protect the ship in the upcoming battle. Does it mean Jade, Vrissy, Yiffy and Harry won't play much of a role in the confrontation then? I could see Yiffy and maybe Vrissy sneaking out like Tavros did but we'll see.

After reading this interaction between Rose and Jade I had to briefly reread the previous conversation between them and Kanaya again to fully understand what they were talking about (I mean wow it's already been 8 months since that update, time flies).

I love how they referenced the "hamster guy" again, which Jade talked about in that previous update as someone who cooked their hamster and apologized about it to Jade.

I'm very worried about where this is going with Rose. Her internal rambling about there being no truth reminds me of the early conversation with John about where the Candy timeline would be headed if John didn't face Lord English.

Rose claims she sees the future; that both Vriska and Jane will fail and "just about everyone" is going to fail. Calliope will sacrifice herself fruitlessly, Rose will be shot in the head…

That all sounds bad. Really, really bad. "[S] Game Over" type of bad.

But, the fact that it's stated out loud right now makes me think… it won't happen? Maybe Rose has it completely wrong and it's just impossible to get a definite look into the future of the Candy timeline. Or maybe Vriska will be able to change the tide here, to have things go completely differently.

If Rose does get in a comatose state however, that sounds eerily similar to the state of her physical body in the Meat timeline.

This does explain why Rose is not making a true effort to salvage her marriage with Kanaya though, because she wants Kanaya to move on from her if Rose is comatose.

I just hope it all doesn't go down that road.

Unless the plan of the creative team is to utterly decimate the Candy timeline and leaving only the ones who don't have a "duplicate" in the Meat timeline? I hope it doesn't come to that.

For one thing, let's not forget that the last time we saw Jade we saw she still had a captchalogue card of a corpse, implied to be Dave, which I assume will still play an important role in some way.

This update makes all of them look like Ancestors/Guardians again, especially the shot of Kanaya, Karkat and Meenah together. So epic. And also Jake coming from the shadows with only his glasses visible, feels like a classic Grandpa moment.

That scene though, holy shit… My thoughts went all over the place.

First I thought Jake successfully killed Jane when he shot her in the head. Then I thought Jane killed Jake when she started bashing him with his gun. And then I was so relieved to see Jake was still alive.

Poor, poor Jake. Just when you think he finally gets to do something incredibly important and stand up, destiny fails him.

But after Rose implied that a lot of people are going to get killed in the upcoming conflict, and Jake didn't die here yet, makes me hopeful that things will turn out differently than Rose expects them to.

I suppose there's nothing left to do but anxiously wait and see where the next update will go!

James Roach said in his news post an old, existing Homestuck song will be used in the flash. That makes me very excited.

But I wonder what unused song could be appropriate here? Is it Penumbra Phantasm? Something from Volume 10, or something way older? I have no clue, but I'm excited to find out.

[starseneyes]

Chenford - Lucy Chen / Tim Bradford - The Rookie - Season 5 - Ep 14

Death Sentence AKA "To Key Or Not to Key..."

SPOILER ALERT: It's about to get real, y'all. So, if you're the kind of person who finds spoilers disturbing, disgusting, or disinteresting (yes, I made up a word), run. This is a Spoiler Zone, and I'll be spoiling the entire episode and possibly everything that came before.

Everyone briefed on the way this works? Fantastic! Let's dive in.

Tim the Boot

Tim's standing in his cargo pants (but not shorts. Sorry first date restaurant) in Lucy's kitchen trying to make coffee in the dark.

And... Oh, I can't go any further. Tim is all domestic at Lucy's! Like, they're not just sleeping together there. I mean, we all knew this relationship was all in from the jump, but here he is making his coffee, getting dressed, and I'm struggling to keep it together because holy shit.

Tim and Lucy have been together maybe two months. They only started sleeping together about three weeks into that.

Back with N*cy was a thing, Lucy didn't want to leave anything at Nolan's. She'd rather go home every morning to keep things casual. Here she is with the love of her life, Tim Bradford... And everything is completely natural.

They have seamlessly made this transition. Yes, Tim does have a go-bag, which we could argue might have clothes in there. But I get the feeling Lucy Chen has cleared out a drawer or two for her man since he shows up later sans-bag. It's conjecture, sure, but it's sexy conjecture, damnit!

And that tumbler looks like the exact one Lucy had when they were brainstorming how to save a kidnapped Angela (after their "almost" night together at Tim's). So... was it Lucy's that she brought home from work to his place that night? Is it Tim's and it's just never gone back to his place? It looks like the same one Lucy had when talking to him at his Desk Job last episode.

Either way, I don't care, because they are sharing a tumbler and it's adorable.

Tim opens a cabinet, maybe looking for a mug for Lucy (it's unclear what his motivation is beyond the gag because he never pulls anything out) but out fall baby Boots. Classic callback to when he moved up to Sergeant.

Tim has been trying so hard to be quiet and not wake anyone. And Lucy planted a noise-maker. There's something so Tim and Lucy about that.

"Did I miss it?" "It's cute."

Awww. This is like them talking about their baby rolling over for the first time and one of them missed it. Also, I love that Lucy likely let him fall asleep, then crept out of bed to set that gag up knowing he needed something out of that cabinet, just so she could prank him.

The Prank energy of Chenford remains! Look, I've seen shows butcher the characters when they get together. For some reason, it's like the ship becomes all that they are and the characters we loved so much disappear into an angry mesh of angst and confusing, unnecessary drama.

Lucy and Tim are still Lucy and Tim. More than any kiss, shirtless scene, or domestic crumb, that is the Writers' greatest gift to us. They haven't sacrificed the two characters we love to serve a story-line that makes little to no sense.

Instead, Tim and Lucy are given the opportunity to thrive separate of one another, but still lean into the relationship they've been developing since Season 1. And we see shades of their phases of relationship throughout their journey in this new one, and that's bloody beautiful.

Seriously, folks. These Writers are crushing it, and I'm so thankful.

"Why are you up so early? I was gonna get a photo of your reaction."

See what I mean!? Think Lucy might've gotten them printed on T-shirts? Or made them her lock screen? Who knows what she would've done, but I love all of it because this is so them!

Photos of her at Midnight. Photos of him with his award. Photos of all the stuff Kojo destroyed. Photos of Tim with his retro radio.

I've heard of photos being a love language, before, but not quite like this. And I love that. This has always been Tim and Lucy's thing. And it still is.

Their wedding slideshow is gonna just be one cringe photo after another, and I low key love that for them.

"The newbie. The Boot." "I'm a sergeant." "Mmm-mmm. You're still a Boot in my book."

I gotta be honest with you, I was never a big fan of the thought of "Boot" being an affectionate name for Tim to call Lucy. Simply because we knew he'd say it to others (like he did with Celina last episode) and it just felt off to me.

But Lucy using it as her pet name for Tim? Love it. There's something so sexy and powerful with her turning that name on him, and us knowing that nobody else could ever get away with that.

She reaches for his jacket (we can barely see it, but that's totally what's happening) to pull her man down to her. And can I say, I love that this is a Lucy thing.

"Did I interrupt something?"

Yes. Yes, you did. AGAIN. Tamara, I swear, we need to put bells on you so we can hear you coming down the hall. Like I know you live here, but can't you see we were about to get new kissage to GIF?

And, Lucy, a sock on the doorknob is not that hard to remember. Gee wiz, people! We need affection, damnit!

Of course, I'm being ridiculous (we don't need physical affection each episode, and it'd be super weird, to me, after whole seasons of them barely touching for it to become the "Chenford Kiss Cam Show"), but it's fun to poke fun at Tamara.

Until it isn't... keep reading to see why.

And I've rewatched this a few times (because I'm psychotic, but also because I'm obsessed with accuracy) and while there's a kissy sound, there's no lip touch from what I can tell. Gosh, that is the weirdest sentence I've ever written.

So, I'm not entirely sure what happened there. I even checked the subtitles to see if I'd missed a "smooches" the first time through watching it live, and it's not. "Door Opens" is, but not "smooches".

So, based on what I can see, I'm going to go with Tamara interrupting them pre-kiss, again, with both of them looking to the door in surprise... again. (They're even turning their heads the same way despite being in a different location in the room).

"You're gonna be great today. Knock 'em dead."

You're knocking me dead with that encouragement! Ahhhh. Tim Bradford is finally with a woman who supports his profession, understands his talent, and encourages him with every ounce of her energy.

And Lucy Chen is finally with someone who supports her profession, understands her talent, and appreciates her with every ounce of his energy.

Finally, Tim and Lucy have their person. My husband is that person for me. When I worked full time at a brick-and-mortar, had toddler twins, and we were trying for another kid, I told him I wanted to go to grad school. His response? "Go."

After 13 months of coursework, one complicated delivery of a brilliant baby girl, and the thesis professor from hell... I graduated with a 4.0 and no debt thanks to a host of scholarships and grants. But none of it would have been possible without my person.

And I can't tell you how stoked I am that Tim and Lucy have found theirs.

Tim says goodbye, but as he's pulling the door closed, he's looking back at Lucy with a small smile that's just for her. Lucy giggles in response. I love her giggle.

And Tamara is giving her a look that Tim can't see as he closes the door that is cracking me up.

"Good morning." "Whatever." "He is!"

This cracked me up so much because it definitely has "Family" energy. Tamara knows how absolutely over-the-top Lucy is being compared to anyone else in her life—but Tamara doesn't know how much Tim truly needs someone to believe in him.

He still has doubts about himself. Not when he's in motion as a cop, but as a man. He's still trying hard not to become the only example he ever had of manhood—an alcoholic father with a wicked right hook and no remorse.

Lucy is the only person besides his sister, perhaps, who truly understands all these facets of Tim. But Tamara has to poke fun a little, because from an outside perspective, it really does feel like a Mom giving her kid that little bit of extra encouragement before the first day at a new school.

"Bradford, this isn't Patrol. This is Metro. Major crimes, terrorism, barricades, hostages. We are an elite unit. Your form's gotta be perfect, man."

The Lieutenant seems solid on him, but the team is definitely giving him crap.

"Don't worry. Happens to everyone. Metro takes some getting used to. You'll get it."

I really like Lieutenant Pine. She's a hard-ass, but she's a smart hard-ass. And I truly believe she means it.

Tim hasn't been on the outside in a very long time, if ever.

Think about it. When you join the Military, you typically have to go through Boot Camp with other new recruits, right? If you Enlist, I mean. So, Tim was at the bottom of the food chain, but he wasn't alone there. He had others on the same level.

Same with being a Rookie in the Police Force. You go to the Training Academy with others who become Rookies, and then you move up. For all we know, Tim's never left his first Station.

This is the first time he's coming into an established team of folks that he's expected to lead and build an instant bond with. This is intimidating shit.

And now he can't even do one simple thing that he's done a million times? He's on edge. Because, work has been the one place he's always been secure in life. And now that he's finally secure in love and friendship, that's the thing that feels unsteady. It's a new feeling, and it's tough for Tim to swallow.

"Lucy Chen, fist of justice." "What are you doing?" "Hi!"

Watch Eric Winter's face in the background of this scene as he approaches. Yes, I'm aware he's Tim Bradford when the camera's rolling, but this is a master actor reacting.

Look, I know the phrase "acting is reacting" can seem cliché, but it's absolutely accurate. I used to call it "listening".

In 2003, I had to go see a play as part of my theater appreciation course at University. The first Act was fine, but the second was so dull I was aching for something to break through. Then, I saw this man out of the corner of my eye. There were 20 people on that stage, but he was the only one listening. Then, he stood and opened his mouth. I remember thinking, "Finally, there's an actor on this stage."

When I went home that night, my Dad asked for my review. I gave it and told him there was one actor who really blew me away. Someone I didn't know I'd nearly met several times in the year before... who I'd nearly meet a few more times before the next month when I would finally meet him... the man I married.

So, Matthew, if you ever read these bloody things, remember that I spotted you as a tremendous actor before we even knew one another. You're just that bloody good, loveyby.

*ahem* Back to Tim. Lucy. Aaron... and an imaginary action figure.

Because Aaron saw her boyfriend coming and instead of warning her he just thought, "Nah, I'm gonna let this play out". Sunshine met Grumpy as she turned around to face Tim, his sole box of work possessions in-hand.

And special shout-out to The Rookie's socials for posting a nice shot of EW carrying the box. We can clearly see his scissors (I love that style. Yes, I'm office-supply obsessed, why do you ask?), a framed certificate, pencils (look like Ticonderoga from here), a baseball glove/baseball (hell, yeah, Little League Co-Coach), and a few other framed items.

That's it. Years and Years at the Station, and he's such a minimalist. I mean, it matches his house. Tim is not a hoarder. Meanwhile, it took four trips to empty me out of my last brick-and-mortar because I had to bring in every bulletin board from home, every clipboard, every lamp, and every post-it-note. The fun of working for a humanitarian nonprofit! Loved what I did. Hated the office supply budget.

"I'm working on my side hustle. Oh, what's on your head?"

She is trying so hard not to touch it. She really just wants to affectionately wipe it off of his head. But he really doesn't want that.

This is his first day and he's annoyed that he's died over and over and over (like poor Judy Hopps in Zootopia—"You're dead fluffy bunny!"). He's been at the top of his game for so long, and now he really is the "Boot" at the bottom of the chain.

And he doesn't want her to know. It reminds me of 5x05 when he was in the hospital and didn't want her to know he was paralyzed. Then, he didn't want her to worry. Same thing, now, just a different angle.

She has so much faith and belief in him, and he doesn't want to let her down.

"It's nothing."

"Nothing" is never "nothing" with Tim. It wasn't nothing when he told Lucy nothing was going on with him. It wasn't nothing when he told Nolan he wasn't doing anything the night before.

And Lucy knows it. Watch her face as he breezes by. She can see that something's up with him, but she's not going to call him out on it in front of Aaron.

"Metro-Police Liaison, best of both worlds."

I love how Lucy leans right alongside the wall at his door, like a high school girl who isn't ready to watch her boyfriend walk into his next class when hers is down the hall.

Tim pushes in, first, but Lucy is quick behind him to get a look at their new hook up space his new office. The generic motivational posters are killing me.

"Well, at least it won't take too long to move in." "No." *giggle*

Tim kicks her out, but she sidles up to the window to get a good view.

Tim in Metro gear is objectively a good view. Like, I'm a demisexual, so I might not feel sexual attraction like some of y'all, but I do feel like Michelangelo might have picked a different model for David if Eric Winter had been around back then.

Aaron and Lucy give the most awkward thumbs up—perhaps their personal call back to Tim's ridiculous habit of doing that in awkward situations—and he gives a patented fake smile before closing the blinds. He looks right at Lucy as they go down.

And Lucy's indignation is sending me. Tim and Lucy are still Tim and Lucy.

Lucy playing Mom to Aaron, then Tamara Calls

Lucy is a bit of a Mother Hen. She can't help it. Caring is built into her personality, and if she sees someone flailing, she's going to throw out the life preserver to help. Some of them take it. Some of them don't, but it's in her personality to want to help.

And Tamara calling makes me so happy. Because, back in the day, Tamara wasn't sure she could count on Lucy. But, now, Lucy is her first call when something is off. That trust is beautiful, and earned, and it's been a really special relationship to watch throughout the series.

"I'm taking a poll. How old were you when you did your first load of laundry?"

This makes me laugh so much. In the early seasons, Jackson, Lucy and Nolan were the OT3. They were Rookies banding together. But by the time they all moved up to P2 and then Jackson died, they didn't have as much reason to be together all the time. They moved on.

But Lucy doesn't let connections go with people she cares about. They are still friends. And I bet she bloody radio'd everyone to ask their ages, which has me screaming because they had to be so awkward for Aaron, and I am here for it.

"Yeah, Bradford, nice!" *Applause* "

You can see Tim sigh with relief as the bell sounds off.

"Well, clearly you've got the goods to be here. And now that you're one of us, you get the company ink."

Look, I was a little confused at the top of this scene with the call for ink. That seems a little... cult-ish. Forcing people to get the same tattoo (and Tim totally called it out). But I can totally roll with the unicorn stickers. My kids all put stickers all over me as kids, so Tim might as well get used to this before he and Lucy extend their family.

Why do I say "extend"? Well, Tim and Lucy already have a family. Their Found Family. And Tamara is a part of it. This little family will grow... someday.

"They're testing you, seeing how far you'll bend. " Yeah, I saw the same kind of thing when I was in the military." "Not about how many stripes on your sleeves with this crew." "It's all good. Team building." "If you're gonna lead this team, they need to know who you are. Show them the Tim Bradford that was tapped to join Metro in the first place."

I really love Lt. Pine. She's letting her Team be who they are, but she's coming in to give Tim the translations after. So, they don't have to break the rhythm they have, but she's giving him the beat so he can find his way into the music.

But Tim's pensive. Being on the outside sucks. And we already talked about how long it's been since Tim's truly been on the outside, if ever. He needs the opportunity to show them who he is, but sometimes even Tim is unsure.

Even during the exercise, they were talking about personal lives. Well, Tim keeps personal out of professional. He has boxes that he keeps everything in, and personal life is checked at the door. But these folks are so tightly woven together that all those crisp, hard lines to which Tim clings start to blur within this team.

It's not going to be easy for Tim. He was so excited about coming over, and I think he still is. But the realities of being on the outside can be tough, even for someone as closed off as Tim Bradford.

"I'm, like, really good friends with the cops here... You can call me, whenever you want, even if it's just to talk, got it?"

Tamara is a really great person. Look, she has made some interesting choices in the past (selling Lucy's car), but she is an incredible person, and I feel like she's passing on the compassion she learned from Lucy.

Lucy's gonna be such a great Mom someday.

And I'm not trying to rush a Chenford baby. But, if we look at Tamara as Lucy's older, first child... we know those younger kids will be just fine whenever they come along.

Lucy and Angela working together

One thing I'm loving about what they're doing this season is changing up who works with whom, so we get a different dynamic with the same characters we love. I adore that it's three powerful women in this scene.

Angela is my #3 of the show behind Tim and Lucy (and Lucy's a strong second). She's showing (again) that an expectant Mom can still be a badass at work.

And as someone who sucks at Stay-at-home-Momming (briefly tried it during maternity leave... I'm not built for it), I'm grateful. I love working. And I'm capable, whether or not I'm pregnant.

"And you're working the night shift somewhere... this morning you were not coming home from a party, not dressed like that. You were coming home from a job. What's going on with you? You need money or something?" "I gotta get that first month, last month and security deposit."

The shock on Lucy's face. She put together that something was up, but I know she didn't expect this.

And the music saying, "Now you're leaving"?! Oh, someone planted that to break my heart a little.

"It's not like I can stay here forever." "Why would you say that? Of course you can." "How's that gonna work? You, me, and Tim?"

How little was Chris spending the night? Like, seriously. Because they were together a lot longer than Tim and Lucy have been, thus far, and Chenford have only been making the two-headed beast for a few weeks, now.

Just a few weeks ago Tamara was offering to blare her music and clear out. But now she's ready to move?! How loud are Tim and Lucy!? Like, I'm sure Lucy can invest in a pair of noise-canceling headphones for you that are higher quality.

I also wonder if the end of the Chris era plays into this. Chris wanted Lucy to move, but he was willing to take Tamara with them.

Maybe the thought of being that third wheel was really unsettling to her, and she was secretly glad when Chris was out of the picture, and she got back to her status quo with her bitchin' cop roommate....

Only for Lucy and Tim to get serious fast. Yes, they took it slow physically (because everyone's definition of "slow" varies), but they dove headfirst into the emotional commitment to one another.

There was never any doubt in either of their minds that this is it for both of them.

So, settling in has been easy for them. They've gotten to skip a lot of the "early dating" tropes because they know one another so well, they know that this is forever, and they know a lot of each other's likes and dislikes.

And I've seen folks complaining that they're not climbing all over each other. If Tamara hadn't walked in, we certainly would've seen some deep kissing from our kimono-clad-queen. Sure. But this isn't the Tim and Lucy show.

I can't remember seeing Wopez climbing all over each other all the time, or Jayla, or even Nolan and Bailey. Like, this isn't that kind of show. That's why we have the beauty of fan-fiction.

Tim and Lucy are in a mature relationship, so they're not going to make out under a blanket on the couch while watching a movie with friends (yes, teenage Rachel did this... do not recommend.). They will be sexy on their own time, and temper it down when around others. They don't need to kiss every time they see one another, and they are secure in their relationship.

Look, I have a lot of Ship Trauma, but I think what we're being given in near-perfect, folks. It's beautiful. It's layered. It's steamy sometimes. Sweet sometimes. Supportive sometimes. To borrow a line from the Musical Quilt, "there are many different kinds of love."

Matthew and I have been together almost 20 years (come August). There are times we are mad passionate, times we are sweet as sugar, times we're frustrated with one another, times we're united in grief, times we cuddle cutely...

Love looks different in every situation, but it's no less love. And what Tim and Lucy have is love.

EDIT: A lot of y'all are convinced there's a Key and one of you might've convinced me in the comments (@noblog2023 pointed out Tim would never leave the door unlocked when he left early in the morning... SOLD!).

So, here's the significance of the key:

First off, I don't believe Lucy's ever given anyone else a key to her apartment. Chris was only in there once without Tamara or Lucy, and that was when Rosalind dropped him off. And we know that psycho bitch knew how to pick a damn lock.

Lucy and Tim haven't been dating that long, and she's given him a key to get into her and Tamara's home.

Because the last person who got a key here was Tamara... and it's been a long time since anyone else had access like that. This was "their" place with the occasional bed-guest. But Tim is not a guest. He's quickly becoming family.

He has even put in the effort to have movie night with his girls.

But from Tamara's side, this is the first person Lucy's let into her world to this degree. This is serious and Tamara can see that. And she's a little spooked that with Lucy's new family, she's not going to want her weirdo roommate hanging around.

Tim and Lucy can build a nuclear family together. The kind of family Tamara once had. And that damn key is a big reminder to Tamara of that truth.

She remembers the security and love of a mother and father and child. So, once Lucy and Tim go that route, where does Tamara fit in?

So of course as she tells Lucy there's no room for her, Tim walks in using his damn key. It's almost like, "see? I told you."

For Tim and Lucy, this level of trust is easy. It's simple. It's second-nature. They are all in, so keys are only necessary to keep the monsters out—not each other.

Tim carrying around a key to her place also means that wherever he goes, he has a piece of her with him. No, it's not the same as when he carried around her ring, but it's still a symbol of connection between them. They now hold twin keys, like twin pieces of their hearts.

And who ever heart of triplet pieces of a heart? No, Tamara's key starts to feel heavy and unfamiliar, because she's missed that she is a part of Lucy's heart.

Tim does know that. If Curried Chris was able to spot that, we know That Tim knows. For goodness sake, he was there when Tamara and Lucy met. He's been there for many of the big moments between them by fate's design.

And there's no way in hell Tim's going to separate the love of his life from her best girl.

"Hi. Sorry I'm late..." "I think I'm gonna crash."

I have been so conflicted with this one, because I voted the kissy sounds out because there was no visual confirmation, but can I do that with the key!?

Just like with the kiss, there's no "keys jangle" on the subtitles. Just "Door Opens".

Like, no, Lucy and Tamara wouldn't just leave the place unlocked. So, it totally tracks that they'd have it locked, and if Tim needed a way in, it'd be because he has his own keys.

And after embiggening on my laptop and staring at Hulu in slow-motion like a madwoman—there's no key. It's an invisible key. Because when Tamara came in, she had a key in her hand. Tim opens the door with his right and closes with his left—no key.

So, a foley artist somewhere is playing with my emotions. I want to get so excited about the prospect of Tim having a key. Before I could see it on Hulu (after watching it live and it going so fast), I did a whole write-up on the significance of Tim having a key.

But there's no key. Remember, I try to write these based on what I can see. Yes, there are time I pick up on things that aren't subtitled ("you're so strong" in DOD, for example), but I don't see a key.

And, look, the creators and showrunner can come in and say, "Yes, there is a key" and then my eyes don't matter. My ears don't matter. Because, it has been declared by TPTB as canon.

I want there to be a key. But if I discarded the kiss at the top because it was heard but not seen, I feel like I need to be consistent. *braces to be murdered in the comment section this week*

"Hey. Sorry. I'm late. Ready for the movie?"

I love how he directs that to his step-daughter. Like, right away, he wants to make sure that she knows she's included, and that this is all of heir thing. He's committed to that, and Tamra just isn't in the headspace to see it.

And Tim liking classic movies is just so on-brand. I love that about him (and I realized this movie is missing in my personal viewing, so I need to fix that ASAP because it sounds amazing).

"Well, I guess it's just us. Popcorn?" "Yeah, sure."

Tim didn't hear the conversation before he came in, so he doesn't know how that "just us" cuts into Lucy a little. Tim isn't good at reading everyone. It reminds me of his line in 5x08 to Nyla, "You're the detective". He lacks Lucy's perception and sensitivity, too.

These aren't character flaws. Simply aspects of his personality that lead to him missing the tension in his girlfriend's roommate.

Also, Tim is making the popcorn.

This is Lucy's place, but Tim knows where enough things are that he can navigate his way around the kitchen, and that's so bloody domestic it makes my heart sing.

Lucy and Tamara

Lucy is making breakfast for the two of them, setting it out and trying to show Tamara that they are a family. Tamara starts asking Lucy questions that normally she would easily answer. But since Tamara has a connection with the family, she's trying to keep it close to the vest.

"Tamara? I'll be parked outside, okay?"

Tamara's not a puppy anymore. She's a grown woman and she's making her own calls. When a kid grows up, that's all you can do. So, Lucy lets her know that she's going to have her back. It's another demonstration of love. Lucy's there for her.

"Thank you. I know I volunteered us for the most boring detail ever." "Of course. You're worried about Tamara. I get it."

I like that Aaron's wordlessly riding along with Lucy. Like, we didn't have to have a conversation or assignment. It's just great to see these two hanging and working together. Aaron has had a nice front-seat to Chenford via riding with Tim, and now he gets to keep up with the gossip by riding with Lucy.

And Tamara learned a lot from Lucy. Now, we're lucky that Deon wasn't violent with Tamara. That could have gone very badly.

Tim Running the Op

He's got a good mix of our folks. Detectives. Officers. Metro. It's great to do this for us as an audience—we're seeing Tim in his new role, getting to know the new folks a bit better, and them getting to see how badass he is, plus keeping our favorites in the action.

It's a really well thought-out scene and episode to get us to this point. We've seen Tim on the outside with the new team. We've seen his unease. We've seen Lucy, Aaron, and Angela covering this from the other side. Now everyone's coming together to save an Innocent. F'ing gorgeous.

"Detective Lopez will be our spotter. She'll provide overwatch." "Why not let Metro provide overwatch?"

It's the first time Tim's being challenged in the field, and that's where Tim's completely secure in who he is and what needs to be done.

"Because we need all our boots on the ground, and there's no one I'd rather have on my six than La Adelita."

Fuck, yeah! Now, from what I understand, there was a real life Adelita during the Mexican Revolution, but the term was used to honor all the women who took up arms to help protect and defend their homes. True Warrior Goddesses. And Angela definitely is one.

That's all it takes for Metro division to stand at attention. Angela's a damn legend. So, maybe Tim does know what he's talking about, eh? Let's take this new team out to see how we do.

Metro Style Camera Work

I love the way this was shot. The way it was directed. The way it was edited. This whole sequence is just gorgeous.

While I was watching the first time, my mind immediately when to how clean-cut the sequence was a few weeks ago with Tim and Lucy rescuing that family. Nothing against how that was shot. It fit the need.

And this sequence is fitting the need of introducing us fully to Metro as its own entity. Yes, Metro has been a part of ops on the show before, but this is the first time we're riding shotgun with Metro, and it's amazing.

Through a combination of tight shots, wide shots, steady-cam that's not-so-steady and drone shots, we're dropped into the action. It reminds me of active combat films and television shows I've watched over the years. Yes, I have eclectic tastes.

Yes, I know this is a Chenford Meta... but this is a part of Tim's story. His first time out with Metro and he gets to do it with his girl? That's what I'm talking about.

Tim just CONKING out the Guy

That made me laugh. I was having Princess Bride flashbacks. Like, yes, it's badass. But I also watch too many shows/movies.

But Tim Bradford is finally getting to show them who he is. On-the-job, he is locked in. It's going to take him a little longer to develop relationship bonds with this group. He's spent a long time surviving in isolation and convincing himself it was enough.

Now he has a family off-the-job and he needs to find a way to connect with his new team on the job. He'll get there, but it's going to be a process.

"Come on. Just take one step."

I love this. Yes, the bad guy could've overheard Tim and it could've been bad for all. But, in the safety of television, I loved that little insight to his head. He's calculating. He's making decisions in real-time. He's protecting their innocent. He's the real fucking deal.

"It's okay. You're safe, now."

And that is who he is, too.

Starting out this episode, Tim was a little unsteady. We've never seen him that way. But by the end he was completely confident in himself, in his team, and in the chain of command.

Tim is getting to excel in a new arena that takes the best of all his training and experience. It's really a culmination of everything that's come before. This is the job he's been training for all his life. And he's the right person for the job.

There's just a learning curve. There's an on-ramp. And that's gonna be tough for Tim for a bit. The tension and angst isn't coming because he's not good enough. It's because naturally connecting with people isn't his thing. He keeps things in nice boxes, but these folks have to form a camaraderie to help them get through the worst of it day-in and day-out.

Tim's days of pulling over drunk tricyclists are long over. It's going to be great, but first he has to get through the bits that are not-so-simple.

Lucy Spreadsheets Poverty

So, you and I know that it's not poverty, but Aaron's got a warped view of life, God bless his heart. But I loved Lucy pulling an Ames from Brooklyn 99 and getting that spreadsheet whipped out.

Amy was my fictional bestie on that show, and Lucy is on this one, so it makes me unreasonably happy to see both armed with spreadsheets. I warned ya I was into office supplies!

"Hey, Bradford. Good job out there today." "Thanks." "They're a good bunch once you get to know 'em." "Yeah, I'll take your word for it." "Nothing against Patrol, but Metro is a different beast. We get called in situations that are already at a boiling point. That kind of stress creates a special bond."

He really looked at them and tried to shimmy away before they noticed him. But Lt. Pine is being a good leader. She's reaching out to the newbie. She knows the skills he has and the potential he has to be a real strong member of this team. But, he has to reach back. And that's not Tim's specialty.

"And I'm on the outside of that" And every single one of them was, too, at some point. Give it a little time." "Okay."

Golly, I feel this. How many times I was on the outside. I mean, I'm a weirdo, so I was never on the "inside." I thought after high school, it would be different, but in every brick-and-mortar job I've had... I was always the oddball who didn't quite fit in.

Right until the end, that is. My humanitarian nonprofit team was really solid, there, and we watched out for each other. But the first few weeks there were an absolute nightmare.

So, Tim, I totally get it. This group reminds me of the PAs at the newsroom I worked at right out of college as a Web Producer. They had so many in-jokes, and connections, and even though I tried to go to the parties and hang out... it just never clicked. Hopefully, Tim has an easier time with Metro, if he gives it the chance.

"You wanna grab a beer with us?" "Do I have a choice? It's tradition. New guy buys a round."

And that was a genuine Tim smile. Gives me hope for the kid.

"Yes, I'm happy to send over my references. And I can start whenever you need me"

How much do I love we switched from Tim to his wife and kid? There've been a lot of episodes ending with Tim and Lucy lately, so we knew that brief trend had to end (it's not the Tim and Lucy show), but I really loved that.

"I just don't want to be a burden." "You're not. Tamara, look, I get it. Your whole life you've been displaced from one home to another, but that's over now. Girl, we're family. You couldn't get rid of me if you tried."

Tamara needs to hear this. Since her parents died, there's been nobody she could really count on. From Swiping to couch surfing to unreliable family members... Tamara's always been the one cast out, the one that didn't belong, that one that was told she was a burden.

Tamara, my dear, you are no burden. You are a beautiful, talented, strong, bad-ass young woman who somehow didn't give up on herself even when the world gave up on you.

In Lucy, you found something you thought you'd lost forever when your parents died—family. And if you ever doubted Lucy saw it that way, too, well, time to stop doubting. You are loved, my dear.

"Thanks. But I will get my own place, eventually. I don't plan to be the weirdo roommate when you and Tim start having babies."

Did you hear Lucy suck in that breath? Because I sure did. *phew* She is not ready to talk about the immediacy of babies.

Let's be clear, Lucy Chen wants Tim Bradford's babies. But she still has a lot to do in her career before starting her family, and then more to do after she does. She and Tim can try to plan out what works for them, and there's no rush on that, yet (especially if she did take up Mama Chen's offer to freeze her eggs).

But can I point out that I love that the Moonstone Ring makes an appearance for this scene where we're talking about Chenford babies?

It can't be in every scene (that'd get super weird and kinda kill its magic), so I wasn't even looking for it, but the light caught it at one point, so I had to rewind. A welcome little Easter egg.

"That's a long way off, but I don't know, maybe it could work out. I hear you're a really good babysitter." "You can't afford my rate." "It's like that." "It is."

I get it. Family doesn't always want to take your kids, and that's perfectly fine, too. I had twins, and most people just couldn't deal with the "multiple babies at once" thing.

But can we talk about the fact that both Lucy and Tamara now have certainty that Tim and Lucy are going to have kids? Like, a few weeks ago, Tamara was asking if they were going to break up because of their work situation, and now she's talking about their babies.

Lucy has never been this serious about any of her on-camera love interests. We don't know what came before, but this is the first time she's used the "g-word" and they were both ready to switch jobs, and they are upending their lives because it's worth it!?

They are worth it. And, golly, I love being along for the ride.

As ever, thanks for reading. I have a few requests in, and one I'm working on. But, as I'm doing much better on the back and life's picking up a lot IRL, I might be a bit slower getting to them.

Have a beautiful rest of your week.

[captainofthetidesbreath]

The babes are back in town! I'm VERY excited, you can tell because I got bingo done a little early for once, and I'm sure everyone else is too. I've put together a bingo call list for the Nein reunited. Just like the C2 finale's call list, this is 69 items. You can find them all below the cut, and you can get your own bingo card here at BingoBaker. Here's some notes for the call list.

"Fjord has a new hat" is rather generous. Since it is pretty impossible to tell if it's the SAME hat as the one he had in Eiselcross, I'm going to say that if he is described with ANY hat, this square is legal.

"Fjord has a tattoo" does not require it be magical. A non-magical tattoo counts, but a magical one is fun.

"any (real) cat" generally is for any cat that isn't Frumpkin. Ergo, mentioning Frumpkin as a cat who once accompanied Caleb does not count. (He was a fey cat, rather than a beast cat, anyway.) The Tower counts also do NOT count, by virtue of not being real cats.

Any item listed by name, the item must be used for it to count as a square. For example, Beau teleporting using the Cape of the Mountebank make the square legal. Endless Flask counts if it's offered or drunk from.

"Sweet Baby" is Veth's gun. If Veth has acquired more bullets and shoots her gun, that's the square for it.

"any new item" is for any item that the Nein did NOT have at the end of the campaign. This is any item they may have acquired between now and the end of the campaign OR any item they newly acquire during this episode.

"new crew member" is for any new NAMED crew member of the Nein Heroez. The currently known crew is: Fjord, Orly, Marius, Gallan, Shelda, Kingsley, and Jester. Should he have decided to join the crew since, Vandran also counts as existing crew.

"ship to ship combat" is basically any combat between ships as entities in themselves, i.e. cannon fire. "Combat on deck" is largely between PCs individually. A single combat CAN be both.

If it is mentioned that Marius has killed someone BEFORE this episode, it DOES count for "Marius kills someone"

Any listed spell does count if an NPC casts it.

"Veth casts a new spell" covers cantrips as well.

Fjord was mentioned as having Cone of Cold during the campaign, but casting is now DOES count for "Fjord or Caleb casts new spell" bc it was never cast. Friends counts for the same reason.

As always, you can ask me for clarifications before, during, or after the episode into the rest of the week! I always love seeing your bingos or almost bingos—and I also love seeing some fun rows you hope will happen ahead of the episode.

May the Nein bring you luck this week.

Fjord has a new hat

Fjord has a tattoo

Star Razor used as flashlight

Caleb still has the Staff of Power

Caleb mentions any (real) cat

Veth references summer camp

summer camp kid named

Kingsley multi-classed

Kingsley single-classed

Yasha still has the Holy Avenger

Sprinkle

Cape of the Mountebank

Endless Flask

Marvelous Pigments

Inescapable Lash (my beloved)

Sweet Baby

Mantle of Spell Resistance

Ring of Telepathy

Ring of Warding

Rod of Absorption

Winged Boots

any new item

new crew member

ship to ship combat

combat on deck

underwater combat

combat on land

Nein Heroez still using ballistae

Nein Heroez now using cannons

Marius kills someone

Marius hasn't killed anyone

Marius lands an attack

Orly casts a spell

any NPC has a gun

any PC uses explosives

Beau and Yasha kiss

Fjord and Jester kiss

Darktow

Nicodranas

Port Damali

any other Coast city

Avantika appearance

Caduceus appearance

Sabian appearance

Vandran appearance

Kotho mention or appearance

Gelidon mention

Divine Intervention

Marine Layer

Fury of the Tides

Stunning Strike

Cone of Cold

Counterspell

Polymorph

See Invisibility

Sending

Voltaic Bolt

illusion cast

Veth casts a new spell

Fjord or Caleb casts a new spell

Arcana check

Deception check

History check

Insight check

Intimidation check

Perception check

Persuasion check

Stealth check

Survival check

[thetinyshiloh]

Nine People You'd Like to Know Better

Tagged by @thana-topsy, thank you!!

3 Ships Yyra Denirien x Teldryn Sero (OC x Elder Scrolls) - If you're following me and you don't know this... you must scroll tumblr with your eyes closed or something lmao. They are INCESSANTLY in my head 24/7/365. They are both so broken but trying their best and the most important aspect is that (in my canon story) their friendship happens FIRST and is MOST important before anything else occurs between them. I know all the smut I draw says otherwise, but I draw the smut because my main story is so slow-burn hahahaha. FemShep x Garrus Vakarian (Mass Effect) - I went hard for this one... it's almost like there's something about red-headed strong-willed women with snarky, non-human mercenaries with distinctive voices that just does it for me... Jude x Cardan (The Folk of the Air series) - Despite the fact these are "young adult" books, holy shit did they do something for me. Also 100000% better than any published erotica I've ever read AND a fantastic example of enemies-to-lovers. Anyways, I finished the main trilogy recently and these two have been rotating on a smaller platform in the background while Yyra and Teldryn continue to rotate in the foreground lol. I HAVE TO ADD ONE MORE, SORRY, I'M BREAKING RULES BUT NIKAIDO x KAIMAN (DOROHEDORO) HAS TO BE INCLUDED TOO, I am obsessed

First Ship I have such a hard time remembering stuff from my early life, but technically the first pairing of people that I fixated on (though this would be way before "shipping" was a thing I knew about) was Aerith x Sephiroth (despite how that canonically goes lol, but i guess i've always loved saying fuck canon).

Last Song "Magia" by Kalafina - Despite almost never watching anime, I binged Puella Magi Madoka Magica in one day (it's only 12 episodes) and holy cow that fucking show what the fuck. Anyways, the end credit song rocks and this is it.

Currently Reading Inside of a Dog by Alexandra Horowitz Attack of the 50 Foot Blockchain by David Gerard I recommend both of these so far, but I'm also only partially through them because I always take a thousand years to read nonfiction.

Last Film Dearest Sister (2016) - It's weird if I'm not watching at least one horror film in the past week, but this was actually two weeks ago? I think I need to re-watch it, but I thought it was pretty good!

Currently Craving I was craving salted nori today but I do actually have some and so I had it a few hours ago. Right now I'm not really craving anything! I guess this question is more about creative works but as usual, I go with food haha.

I tag: @downontheupside @mishikaiya @ocheeva @dontiform @perilously @fliinnie @orfeolookback @bendingsignpost @drowsy-fantasy

[scotianostra]

April 15th 1924 saw the birth of Rikki Fulton.

Robert Kerr “Rikki” Fulton was a Scottish comedian and actor best remembered for writing and performing in the long-running BBC Scotland sketch show, Scotch and Wry.

The youngest of three brothers, Robert was born into a non-theatrical family at 46 Appin Road, Dennistoun, Glasgow. Fulton completed his education in 1939 and decided to enter the world of acting after a backstage visit at the Glasgow Pavilion Theatre.In 1941, aged 17, Fulton joined the Royal Navy. The following year he was posted to HMS Ibis, but that November the ship was sunk in the Bay of Algiers. Fulton spent five hours in the water before being rescueHe later joined the Coastal Forces for D-Day, travelling back and forth between Gosport and Arromanches with vital supplies. In 1945, four years after signing up, Fulton was invalided out of the Navy due to blackout, leaving with the rank of sub-lieutenant

In the early 1950s, Fulton moved to London and became the compère of The Show Band Show, working alongside the likes of singer Frank Sinatra.

After a short period, Fulton returned to Scotland to perform for Howard & Wyndham Ltd inn pantomime from 1956 at the Alhambra Theatre, Glasgow with Jimmy Logan and Kenneth McKellar followed by the “Five Past Eight” summer revues with Stanley Baxter and Fay Lenore. In 1985, under the pseudonym “Rabaith”, Fulton, along with Denise Coffey, adapted the French playwright Molière’s, Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme as A Wee Touch o’ Class.

Alongside his Scotch and Wry co-stars Gregor Fisher and Tony Roper, Fulton made two appearances in Rab C. Nesbitt; once in 1988 and 10 years later in 1998. Although he would reprise his famous Rev I.M Jolly character one last time for a short skit on New Year’s Eve 1999 as part of the “Millennium” celebrations. Rikki’s early shows include,The Rikki Fulton Show The Five past eight, The Adventures of Francie and Josie but he also acted in various shows like Charles Esquire , Square Mile of Murder, It Ain’t Half Hot Mum, Bergerac, Local Hero, Gorky Park, Comfort and Joy, The Holy City, The Girl in the Picture, Supergran and the aforementioned Rab C. Nesbitt. Notable Characters Scotch and Wry Supercop a frequently dimwitted traffic cop who rides a motorbike, his trademark is how he removes his goggles (pings off and flies off camera), is often getting into more trouble than those he stops.

Rev. I.M Jolly a very downtrodden and pessimistic minister of the Church of Scotland, presents a fictional show “Last Call” where he has a heart to heart with the audience where he tells them what he has been up to that week. his tone is always low-key and down beat.

Dickie Dandruff owner of “The Fourways Café” also goes by the moniker “The Gallowgate Gourmet” and presents a cooking segment called “Dirty Dick’s Delicat'messen” where he prepares food in comedic style from his filthy café kitchen in the Gallowgate area of Glasgow.

Fulton’s death sparked numerous dedications in his memory. The then-BBC Scotland Controller, John McCormick, said “he [Fulton] was a legend for people across the whole country.”

Fulton’s funeral took place six days after his death. In tribute to his Scotch and Wry character Supercop (a police traffic officer), police motorcyclists escorted the funeral cortège as it made its way to Clydebank Crematorium. The Reverend Alastair Symington, who was a close friend of Fulton, led the service, which featured tributes from Fulton’s widow Kate Matheson and Tony Roper.

Symington had previously collaborated with Fulton on the book, For God’s Sake, Ask!. Both Rikki and his Kate were strong supporters of the Scottish SPCA, which received a financial donation following Fulton’s funeral. A Scottish SPCA inspector represented the animal welfare organisation at the service.

Fulton's funeral took place six days after his death. In tribute to his Scotch and Wry character Supercop (a police traffic officer), police motorcyclists escorted the funeral cortège as it made its way to Clydebank Crematorium.

[lukeevangelista]

are you sure? - tyson jost

the trade made me sad and i never wrote anything sooo here we are

He’s been on another team since I wrote this——>>>>>> this takes place when he was traded to minny bc I’ve had this since he was traded to minny.

I’m gonna do another with him being claimed by BUF eventually.

now i know they boys were on the road when he was traded but this is fiction.

i don’t think there’s any warnings other than sadness.

i did tag colorado since he was an av AND there are other avs players included in this.

———————————————————————————

“are you sure you want to go with me?” he asked as he wrapped his arms around your body.

you just had gotten the news that he was going to be traded. you just didn’t know where he was going yet.

tyson had warned you that they were trying to move him, mainly because he didn’t want you finding out in social media before he could say something.

you had seen the rumors already.

and he knew it.

a couple of months ago, you had asked him and he didn’t know anything at the time. and then it all died down. but the last couple of days, it had started swirling again.

with you having social media comes the consequences of dating a profession athlete and you knew this was good possibility it could happen. tyson had warned you early in your relationship that he could be shipped off so fast without any reason.

“tyson,” you said, running your hands across his chest to his shoulders, “anywhere you are is where i want to be too.”

“good, because they’re calling.” he sighed as he looked towards the table, seeing his phone light up with joe sakic’s name. you stepped out of his arms, allowing him to answer the phone, his face falling shorty after he answered.

“yeah, i understand.” he whispered, a tear slipping out of his eyes, “thanks for everything.”

your hand flew to your mouth as you watched him hang up the phone, his hands going straight to his hair as he tugged.

“minnesota.” he said as he went to wrap his arms around you, “i’m leaving tonight.” he said, burying his face in your hair, “i don’t want to go.” he whispered, his arms tightening.

“i know you don’t, but imagine all the new people you’re going to meet. you’re going to do great up there.” you whispered back, tears starting to run down your face.

“why are you crying?” he sniffled.

“because you are.” you replied, as you wiped another tear away off of his face.

tyson let out a laugh, “i don’t want to go without you.”

“you won’t have to.” you stated, “let me take care of loose ends here and i’ll be up there by the end of the week.” you said, placing a kiss to his lips, “but for now, lets spend some time together and i’ll help you get packed up.” you offered, him nodding as he guided you to the couch,

“i’m going to miss everything here.” he murmured out, “especially the boys..” he continued, “and our house.. oh god.. our house.” he groaned, “we literally just bought this!!”

“babe, its okay. great get away home.” you joked as you nudged him in the ribs, trying to make a joke, “stop overthinking it. you’re going to do great up there and you’re going to love it all.”

fortunately for you, you were actually born and raised in st. paul, so really, this trade kinda made you excited to get to return to your home.

“dad has already texted and said you can stay with them until you find a place.” you stated, tyson nodding as you could see the sense of relief of not having to find a place to live on such short notice.

“thank god. because rooming with your dad is so what i want,” he joked, “but no, seriously thank him. he made this a little easier.”

“already did babe.”

—————

it had been a couple of hours since the trade was told to tyson before you heard pounding on your front door.

“holy shit, shut up!” you shouted as you walked towards the door. you swung it open, ready to chew out who had woken you up. luckily, tyson slept through it.

“where is he?” gabe asked as he shoved past you, a couple other following him.

“gee, hello to you too gabe. i’m doing great! thanks for asking.” you grumbled as you shut the front door, locking it.

“quit talking to yourself like a crazy person and answer his question.” erik replied causing you to throw him the bird.

“he’s asleep. he’s taking it hard.” you said as you leaned across the counter, “hang out here for a bit, he should wake up in a little bit.” you turned away, grabbing some waters out of the fridge, passing them out to the tall men in your kitchen.

“are you going with him?” jt asked, a frown lacing his lips.

you nodded as you took a sip of your water, “he warned me minutes before the call was complete.” you sighed, “he asked if i wanted to go or what i wanted to do. he wanted to make it work between us either way. I’ve got some stuff to take care of here, but then im going up with him. he’s not making this transition alone. not on my watch.”

“god i’m so lucky to have you.” you could hear tyson mumble behind you as his bare feet patted against the hard wood floor, his arms going around your waist as he looked over your shoulder, “i’m assuming you guys heard?”

“yep.” gabe responded, the other guys nodding along, “i’m not happy josty.”

“me either landy, me either.”

“when do you leave?” cale asked.

“tonight.” he sighed.

“tonight?! that’s barely enough time to do anything!” nathan spoke up.

“doing what i’m told.” tyson shrugged as he took a sip of your water, “speaking of which, need to get to packing, so if you’ll excuse me..” he muttered.

it didn’t take tyson long to pack what he needed and by the time he walked out, the rest of the team was already in your living room and standing around the kitchen.

“what’s this?” he laughed as he looked around, you meeting him at the bottom of the stairs, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“you really thought we weren’t going to send you off without proper goodbye, did you?” you asked as he looked down at you.

“god, i love you so much.” he whispered as he pressed his lips to your forehead.

[the-bats-who-simp]

Upon Holy Ground

Chapter 1: Magnolia

A Bat Coven LLC Production

Co-authored by @the-bats-who-simp and @alwaysyourshenry

Warnings: Very light smut (kissing, titty touches, etc.)

Ajax rubbed his back, sore with old age as often happens. He looked sightlessly out on the town fondly, feeling the chill on his face that almost felt like an old friend at this point if not for the small freezing bites it gave him. He remembered his mother, one of the very last women to give birth during the last summer. Her face was always clear in his head, even if the background faded away with the years. His memory could only do so much good. His hair and beard were streaked with silver, his eyes wise and as blue as the summer sky he was born under.

On his back he carried his granddaughter, too young to wear the heavy snow shoes they all had to wear to get around the town. In front of him, sled dogs, happy and rolling around in the snow. For as long as he could remember, it was his job to help distribute food amongst the town. It was a group effort, of course, everybody helped out where they could all things considered. It was in their nature to be considerate and selfless, part of the teachings and values they’d been raised by. Helping those in need, treat others with respect and you’ll receive respect in return. That is, of course, not to say hedonism was frowned upon, far from it. One could indulge and be selfless at the same time. Those two things weren’t mutually exclusive.

Ajax now carried the last of the bread. His grandson, Everest, had made it in the bakery in the middle of town with the last of the ingredients from the last excursion beyond Paradiso’s borders. Not even the cold could get rid of the warmth of a freshly made loaf, perhaps through divine intervention or the insulated carriers he used.

The Preacher and the head of the town, Jamie, was currently out gathering more food though. They always timed it so that they’d always return with fresh supplies the moment the last load had run out. They made sure to make every scrap of fabric and bit of grain worthwhile, not a single bit was put to waste. This time, Jamie left with three of his witches. Eva, Theresa, and Mars. They each had their own specialties that helped the gathering of food, medicine, and other supplies, which was why they were often the ones to go on these extensive trips.

Sometimes other witches would go instead of those three to have time beyond the perpetually frozen stretches of land and time. They’d pile into Jamie’s beat up old truck from the early 1970s with burlap sacks that could carry more than they appeared to and leave for a week or two depending on the necessity. It only happened at most four times a year; Jamie was always very good about cataloging exactly what was needed and how that supply could be made to stretch. It wasn’t the perfect living like the name of the town suggested it would be, but they made it work. In Jamie’s stead, Nora became the new head of town as the oldest official witch amongst them.

Nora always stood at the helm of the ship, so to speak, and now led with great confidence and wisdom. Her eyes glowed golden with divine power, a remnant of the blazing hot sun that used to threaten to burn their beautiful Paradiso to the ground, beautiful pastel shotgun houses and all.

Ajax’s granddaughter, Vivian, named after her godmother, covered Ajax’s snow blind eyes. He had never seen her beautiful face, nor that of his wife, daughter, and grandson. The eternal winter had taken more than just heat and carefree mobility from the villagers over the decades. Back in the beginning, snow came to Paradiso only rarely and only for short periods of time. Nobody knew what the proper steps to take were, so several people suffered. Frostbite, chill-borne sickness, and snow blindness. It saddened Ajax that his children and grandchildren had never known life before. He wasn’t sure how many of his line would never see summer blooms and greenery, if they ever would again. Everyone prayed daily that the summer would someday come back, but as of now, it showed no signs of its return.

Vivian (the Younger, as her godmother and namesake had called her) giggled, sitting high upon Ajax’s back as he climbed up the tall walk to his small, shotgun house, painted a nice robin’s egg blue with white trim. The paint was peeling and the wood was slightly bloated with years of gradual water damage. Even if Ajax couldn’t see it, he knew it was there. It was part of the house’s charm, he said, every single scar bearing a story as they often did. From outside, he could hear the laughter of the town's children, whom his beautiful wife, Athen, often babysat. She had always loved children, and even at her age, she could keep up with the young ones with ease save for the occasional crick and pulled muscle. Other symptoms of the oncoming twilight years of life.

As soon as Ajax walked in, the horde of children scurried over to meet him. They called his name, grabbing his hands and pant legs and dragging him over to a plush rocking chair in the corner.

“Please,” one of the children called, “tell us the stories!”

Ajax could feel the heat emanating from the lightbulb in the tall lamp behind him, reminding him of the stories his mother would tell.

“It was a long time ago,” he started, feeling their eyes on him as they all sat around his feet, “The sun was blazing hot. Everyone in town had sweat creeping down their brow. My mother, Harlow, was one of the very last to give birth before the snow fell. She said that it was so hot in the house that she gave birth to me in an ice bath.”

The children ‘ooed’ and ‘ahhed,’ fascinated by someone who wanted to be cold. They shivered, even with the heat all the way up in the tiny little house. Many of them wore hand-knitted jumpers made by their god parents. The cold was always there, always permeating. It was hard to escape, but they made do. By now it seemed normal.

“And tell us about Jamie!” One girl from the back smiled, clearly having a little childhood crush on the town’s beloved Preacher. Many did, regardless of age or gender. He was a charming man, bearing hair of spun gold and eyes of ocean blue. His smile was the closest thing to sunlight many of them saw most days.

“He was a different man back then, from what I gather.” Ajax said, remembering the blazing heat of the last summer five decades past. The coven had always tried to be transparent about problems in the spirit of integrity and also understanding the villagers weren’t stupid. The flock could always tell when things were going sideways and it was better for everyone to remain honest and maintain that trust. “He has changed a lot for the better. Did you know, Auntie Lili used to be one of his wives?”

All the children gasped, some even pretended to faint. Paradiso’s children tended to have a flair for the dramatic; most of the witches did anyway and that was a behavior very easily replicated.

“It’s true. Then Jamie’s brother came to town and Lili fell in love with him. You know how we’re always taught that love can happen at random with anybody? They’re a testament to that fact.” Ajax continued.

“We all thought that their squabbling was the cause of the Long Winter, but the longer it stretched, the less we were sure that’s what it was.” Athen put in, wiping her hands dry with an old green dish towel. Dinner would be ready soon, the smell of the roast starting to permeate through the house. It made it seem a little warmer inside.

“It caused the heatwave for sure, though.” Ajax added.

“So why is it always cold?” Vivian the Younger asked.

“We don’t know.” Athen said, shrugging her shoulders and sitting on the armrest of Ajax’s chair. “The witches have been trying to figure it out for years with no luck. Mother Juliet willing, someday they’ll figure it out and be able to bring summer back. It’s tragic you children don’t know the joys of swimming in the lagoon or enjoying a sunset in a fully bloomed flower field. I’m even surprised I miss sunburns and sweating during service. It all seems so long ago now.”

“I’m sure someday you’ll see the sun again, darling.” Ajax said, reaching for her hand and squeezing it gently. She squeezed back, resting her body up against his shoulders. Athen looked out the window and let out a great sigh as her husband continued monologuing. Fresh flurries had started floating their way down as the sky grew darker. Night was approaching. She missed the sun, missed when the moon wasn’t just a pale blur in the sky. She missed a lot of things. It was important to be grateful for what they did have, though. Their health, a wonderful horde of children to care for, grandchildren, a place to live, the protection of their witches…

Just not summer.

***

“Viv, hold still, you’re making the line work shakey.” Lili said, using her arm to keep Vivian’s right calf pinned down in her lap, very carefully dragging the thin green Sharpie marker along her skin, now covered in a coil of ivy wrapping all the way around multiple times.

“But I have to move! It’s getting uncomfortable!” Vivian protested, stretching her arms out at her sides, one resting against the back cushions of the sofa they were sitting on.

“If this was real, there’d be no taking it back. You want tattoos, you have to learn to sit still.” Lili chastised, completing the outline of another leaf.

“I’m pretty sure you’re allowed to take breaks when getting tattoos. Besides, Jamie won’t get us ink, so it’ll never be permanent for the foreseeable future.”

“And for good reason, it’s a luxury we shouldn’t waste our resources on when we have a village to feed and clothe, and he knows we’d all start putting half-mad scribbles on ourselves.”

“Yeah because he knows he’d start doing the same thing.” Vivian sat up, yet kept her leg on Lili’s lap. “But I want my roses!”

“You’re such a child, you’ll get your roses when we can afford the ink… and the patience to put up with your hyperactive ass.” Lili waved the marker in Viv’s face as if that proved her point. Vivian put on a mask of indignance as she took the marker out of Lili’s hand.

“Excuse me, Lili, I can sit very still when I know it’s actually a life or death situation. You’re using markers, not needles.”

“You think tattoos are life or death?”

“Not literally, I’m just saying when I know moving would be a bad idea, I can hold still. Sharpie is hardly a permanent decision in comparison.” Vivian let out an impish grin as she shifted her grip on the uncapped marker and drew a green heart on Lili’s cheek. The other witch balked, snatching the marker back.

“Viv! What the hell?” She snapped, wiping her cheek in vain in hopes it would get the marker off. All it did was smudge the ink, making the mark worse. “God, you’re so insufferable sometimes.”

“You love it though.” Vivian said, grinning triumphantly. Lili scrunched her nose in annoyance, getting up close to Vivian’s face with a glare.

“It doesn’t look professional.” She protested.

“Who even cares, we’re not holding service. It looks adorable… and it’ll wash off.”

“I swear to god, one of these days, I’m gonna–” Lili started before she was cut off by Viv lunging forward, kissing her hard. Startled, Lili let the momentum push her back against the sofa’s armrest, Vivian refusing to break away. She only kissed Lili harder, pinning her down with her body weight as one hand gripped her jaw, the other holding Lili’s hip. She felt the whine escape Lili’s lips, making her smirk as she pushed her tongue past Lili’s lips, deepening the kiss. Lili’s arms came up, wrapping around the back of Vivian’s neck to pull the blood haired witch closer to her. The lip colors they were wearing began to smear against each other, a mix of Vivian’s bright red with Lili’s dark plum shade.

“I’m surprised you didn’t pounce sooner…” Lili said breathlessly as Vivian briefly broke the kiss for air. Vivian smirked down at Lili, snaking her hand underneath Lili’s sweater to teasingly caress her breasts.

“I did say I could hold still if I wanted to.” She purred, pulling the sweater off and kissing down Lili’s neck, her teeth gently scraping against the skin. Lili sighed, tangling her fingers in Vivian’s hair the lower the other witch’s mouth went. She had to give credit where it was due, Vivian was notoriously bad at restraining herself from physical pleasures. Her drive and stamina had been the source of many jokes and gentle jabs at her expense over the years. She chose to wear it like a badge of honor, having come from a repressed upbringing that forbade even thinking about anything of the sort. Lili couldn’t find it in her to shame her for it, especially not when she was particularly skilled at what she did.

Vivian’s mouth reached Lili’s breasts, giving a gentle kiss to each one before shooting back up to resume kissing Lili, the open mouthed kisses hot and heavy. Lili moaned against Viv’s lips, her leg moving to wrap around Vivian’s waist and pull her closer. Vivian just smirked, her hand starting to snake down between Lili’s legs. Her fingers ever so gently brushed against the wet mound, searching for the elastic band of her panties to play with.

“Oh… oh, Vivvy… you–” Lili moaned breathily before being cut off.

“I should know by now to not leave you two alone with each other.” A deep voice spoke up, knocking Lili out of her blissed reverie. Her head turned, seeing Alexander leaning on the doorframe of the living room with his arms folded, an amused smirk on his face. Vivian paused her movements, pouting.

“I can’t help it when she looks so tempting!” She protested. Alex just chuckled, approaching the pair with a teasing smile.

“You think everything’s tempting, little rose. You’re almost worse than my brother. Now, would you kindly let me have my wife back?” He said. Vivian paused before smirking, reaching back down and pulling Lili’s damp panties off in a swift motion. She held them between two fingers almost triumphantly for Alexander to see, an impish grin on her face.

“I would, but look at that wet spot my girlfriend made because of me.” She said. Alexander snatched the undergarments away, towering above Vivian with his own smirk.

“You forget I can do the same thing to her… and you, little rose… In fact, if I recall last night correctly…”

Vivian flushed. “You know that just means that Jamie’s going to go extra hard with ‘reclaiming’ me once he gets back… as he usually does.”

“I know, and that’s clearly why you do it.” Alexander chuckled, picking Lili up in his arms and sitting her in his lap, pulling her sweater back over her head and letting her rest her head against his shoulder. Vivian folded her arms and pouted petulantly next to them, although she had a hard time keeping her face straight.

“I’m a ravenous woman.” She said, toying with Lili’s ink black hair, which had grown out long. Lili giggled, burying her face in the crook of Alex’s neck. He smiled, wrapping his arms around her tenderly and planting a small kiss to her forehead.

***

The old model, faded-red pickup truck was heavy with supplies as it made its way back into the town border. One moment, the path was full of trees, the next, an empty vast wasteland of white. It filled him with the same dred as a blank white page does for an artist with no inspiration. He rolled up the truck windows, Mars and Eva sang together to the truck radio, their voices lilting together in an enchanting harmony. Jamie smiled, his partners always sounded so beautiful together.

He shifted the truck into four wheel drive to climb up the snow covered hill. He looked over at the new passenger next to him, her hair a mix between honey and strawberry blonde. Her eyes an enchanting blue just like his. But, her eyes reminded him of flowers, almost the exact same shade as a cornflower.

He smiled at her, her cornflower eyes were wide with wonder as she looked around at all the snow. He could tell how desperately she wanted to play in it, not yet understanding how cold and biting the eternal winter was. He drove for a while, glancing over at her every now and then. Taking in the wonder in her large sad eyes. The old red backpack in the back of the truck held everything she owned. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and took a selfie with Jamie, tilting her body so he could still focus on the road.

“Smile!” she said enthusiastically.

And so he did, he put on one of his most charming smiles, turning away from the road for a second so she could snap the picture before he turned back. She set the picture as her phone lock screen before putting her phone back in her pocket with a smile.

With some effort on the poor truck’s part, Jamie pulled up to the church on the top of the hill. He’d put chains on the tires to help with traction, but in his mind he knew he would need to replace them soon. The tires too, perhaps. Nothing here was necessarily built for the snow, let alone for as long as it had endured. Plants couldn’t grow, the animals burrowed where they could… the feel of an eternal summer had long since eluded them. They all spilled out of the truck like water, taking in the surroundings. He saw the young woman pull her– his– jacket tighter around herself as the chill started nipping at her face.

Her name fell from his beautiful pink lips so easily, like it was the most natural thing in the world, “Magnolia? Would you head inside the church please? There is a surprise waiting inside for you.” He couldn’t tell if the red in her cheeks was from the cold, or reacting to his cadence.

So Magnolia obliged. She carefully walked up to the big sodden church doors and pulled against them until they unlatched and swung open. Inside were three people. Two women that looked reasonably close to Magnolia’s age and a man that bore a striking resemblance to Jamie even through his beard and wire glasses.

Not the surprise she was expecting, certainly, but they smiled at her, pleased to see her. Almost as if they had known her for years, as if they loved her. If Magnolia was put off by it, she certainly didn’t show it.

She smiled back, “Hi, I'm Magnolia!”

The man spoke first, “I am Alexander,” he introduced himself before he gestured to Lili and Vivian, “This is my wife Lili, and that’s Vivian. We are so glad to have you here with us, Magnolia. Welcome to the coven.”

“Coven? Like…witches?” Magnolia asked, her head slightly cocked to the side. Jamie saw Vivian furrow her eyebrows in a similar expression of confusion. Apparently he hadn’t done much explaining before claiming this new girl, bringing her to the town she’d now call home.

“Yes, exactly. Witches. Just like you.” Lili smiled warmly, contrasted by her eyes glowing mysteriously. Entrancing as always.

[whymaige]

🌷 WhyMerch Shop Updates 🌷

Posting general updates about current orders and a bit of future merch!

Some items are not listed anymore, but product pages have a "✿ Shipping ~" in description since orders are processed by batches

Putting them here for your reference!

✨ Holy Charm and Lilybell Standee P.O. ✨

‼️ New ETA: May-June 2024 ‼️

I've had two rounds with production of correcting the items sent over. Currently, they seem to be having problems with printing so they are fixing their machines. I'm following up best I can

🍊 Ponkat Merch P.O. 🍊

‼️ 4 Orders Left, should be all sent by May ‼️ ✨Re-Run: Mid April 2024/Soon

There was a lot of orders for this set. Thank you! 🙇‍♀️ Orders are processed by batches and production slowed by a few weeks due to lots of holidays. Limited Time Re-Run soon!

☄️🔥 'MUT IN A SUIT - Shirt 🔥☄️

‼️ Shipping should be until June ‼️

Shipping should be on time for this (May-June). If there's any delays that would move it to be sent out on July 2024, I will be sending out e-mails (with the add you put in the order form)

🌸 Other Items 🌸

Should be following the indicated Shipping ETA. There were two orders of the Shadow Lillies Hoodies that had the Shipping listed a little too early (it should be June 2024). I'll be sending out an e-mail about that 🙇‍♀️

🔻 Future Merch 🔻

Patrons already know about this, but there's upcoming merch designs! (one is still a lineart aughgu)

Focusing on having most of current orders sent out first before moving on to these

They will all be for Pre-Order, aiming for around/after mid 2024!

Thank you for the support and helping our cats through this! 🙇‍♀️

I'm always on the top of communications with production, making sure your orders are quality and worked on!

Thank you for your patience as we process a bunch of the Pre-Orders above 🙏🌷

[queenoffishingandcookies]

Thalassa: The Edge of the Abyss

It has a grip over me now. Don’t own the game, had to watch it online and Holy Hell.

Made me go through a binge of reading through several Wikipedia pages on the History of Underwater Diving, Timeline of Diving Technology, Standard Diving Dress, Surface-Supplied Diving, Air Hoses and Umbilical Cables, etc.

Also the history of the Mary Rose somehow, through one of the above pages - very interesting, considering the game’s prologue focuses on the St. Catherine, a shipwreck that our Protag dove on with a team of a few others - up until the prologue happened at least.

Just to see, you know, if the technology of the dive-suit the silent protagonist was something actually possible back in 1905, when the game takes place.

If anyone has watched the SpongeBob movie with anyone else, and seen the guy with the big metal helmet? Yeah, that’s standard diving dress - and I didn’t know until recently that around early 1900’s they actually had these suits hooked up with telephone wires so they could communicate - though, I can’t find an exact date for when and don’t nearly have the knowledge to know hot it worked -

Just, so much goes into those suits.

This isn’t even me rambling about the story yet, because the prologue - the prologue, oh my god.

Rambling about the plot could be a post of its own.

WARNING:

- Slight Spoilers Below

If any of you have a fear of drowning, and can’t handle seeing characters die on screen - the prologue is going to mess you up, because an accident occurs while the Protag’s other crew are diving on the St. Catherine shipwreck, and a character - Alex - does drown on screen.

YOU LOOK HER IN THE EYES AS SHE DROWNS.

Additionally, the majority of the game, rather than diving on the St. Catherine, actually involves exploring the wreck of the S.S Thalassa - the ship our protagonist, Cam, once served on prior to the death of Alex before taking a leave of absence to recover.

It’s stated that Thalassa sank roughly several weeks after Alex’s death, on a routine voyage back to the St. Catherine wreck site, and the game picks up several months later after both incidents (if my timeline thinking is correct?), still in 1905.

All hands aboard the Thalassa at the time of sinking were deemed lost, though no bodies are ever seen while exploring the wreck.

So, in that way, the game is considerably graphic, as it is heavy in regards to loss of life.

[serenailith]

i’m lying just to keep you here

for @dreamlingbingo​

Square: c1, loud sex Rating: e Word Count: 6108 Ship(s): dream of the endless/hob gadling Warnings: none Additional Tags: alternate universe - human, alternate universe - university, friends to lovers, though they take the long way ‘round because they’re kinda idiots, heartbreak, anal sex, squint-and-you-miss-it semi-public sex, blowjobs, not actually unrequited love, requited unrequited love, fake/pretend relationship Summary:

It is less Hob convincing Morpheus that this was a good idea and more Morpheus's inability to say 'no' to Hob. Of course, life has a way of making sure that bites Morpheus in the arse.

Link: on ao3 masterlist

“Please pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Morpheus blinks stupidly for a moment then cocks his head. Hob stands before him with a pleading look on his face. Morpheus opens his mouth to respond, closes it, then tries again.

“Why would you need me to pretend to be your boyfriend?”

“My parents are coming to visit this weekend. I lied to them, saying I had a boyfriend just so they’d stop pestering me about dating someone. And Valentine’s Day is in a few weeks, so I know they’ll be worse if they knew the truth.”

“Your entire family knows we’re only friends.”

“Ah, but the best relationships begin with friendships.”

“Hob…”

“Please, Morpheus. I promise it’ll be the only time I ask this of you.” Hob clasps his hands in front of his chest beseechingly. “Please.”

Morpheus sighs and avoids Hob’s gaze. They’re friends—best friends, and have been since they were twelve—but this is a lot to ask of him. Hob can’t know how monumental this request is. But… Hob has always been there for Morpheus. There’s never been a time that he’s turned Morpheus away. The least Morpheus can do is help him this once.

“No cute nicknames for each other,” he warns. “They are nauseating.”

Hob chuckles and sticks out a hand. “Okay, deal. But, er, what about honey-butt?”

Morpheus snorts then dissolves into laughter. “Call me that,” he says once he’s calmed, “and your parents finding out we are not actually dating will be the least of your worries.”

“I’ll find something,” Hob promises with an appraising look.

Morpheus has no doubts about that. Hob is nothing if not imaginative, hopeful, and stubborn. Hob squeezes Morpheus’s hand before turning, calling out a goodbye as he sprints away. Morpheus watches him go then closes his door.

Maybe this won’t be so bad, a voice in the back of his mind says, and he scoffs. It’s going to be just as bad as he fears. There’s no way around that fact. He’ll end up looking foolish. But just think, you can pretend it’s real.

And that’s what will hurt the most.

True to Hob’s word, he arrives outside Morpheus’s room bright and early Saturday morning, parents in tow. Robert Sr. claps a hand to Morpheus’s shoulder, despite knowing full well that Morpheus doesn’t like being touched, while Elizabeth beams brightly and passes over a small box. Inside, Morpheus knows, are baked goods he will eat a quarter of before Hob takes the rest. He sets the box on his desk then turns back to his best friend’s parents.

Elizabeth tuts quietly and brushes a piece of lint from her son’s shoulder. Her hazel eyes pin Morpheus in place when she looks at him once more. “Morpheus, dear, tell us the truth. Are you really dating Robbie?”

Hob rolls his eyes before shooting Morpheus a Look. One that says Please for the love of all that’s holy, go along with this, or I might just lose my mind. Morpheus bites back a smile and nods.

“I am.”

“When did this happen?” she asks, frowning—Morpheus can see the disappointment in her eye. He only hopes she approves of the ‘relationship’. It would make life difficult if Elizabeth Gadling supported the friendship but not Hob and Morpheus dating.

Why is he even entertaining these thoughts? They aren’t dating. Morpheus knows this. He needs to remember it, or things are going to get uncomfortable.

“It wasn’t too long ago, Mum,” says Hob with a grimace. “It just… happened. Now can we go get breakfast?”

Morpheus takes pity on his friend, crossing his arms over his chest. Hunching in on himself, he weaves a tale of how he and Hob had been studying one night when Hob had looked at Morpheus and asked if he’d want to go out to dinner. Of course Morpheus had hesitated: What if it ruined the friendship? But Hob had been so adamant about nothing changing, not really: “All that will be different,” Morpheus claims he said, “is I get to kiss you whenever I want.”

“How sweet,” Elizabeth gushes before she allows her son to usher the group from Morpheus’s room.

Breakfast is a boisterous affair. Hob chats with his parents about his schooling, about how things are at home. Elizabeth carefully avoids asking Morpheus about his family, everyone but his older sister. Thana is never a sore subject, and he will talk about her as often as anyone will allow.

Morpheus barely manages to not jolt in surprise when a warm hand wraps around his; he glances at Hob from the corner of his eye, but Hob doesn’t look back. Instead, he continues eating with one hand and chatting as if there is nothing unusual about holding his best friend’s hand in front of his parents.

Thankfully, none of the Gadlings expect Morpheus to stay with them all day. He makes an excuse to leave, apologising for the mountain of schoolwork he has yet to do. He’s just turned to walk away when Hob pulls him back; Morpheus stares blankly when lips brush against his. Hob grins and releases him.

“I’ll come by when it’s dinner.”

“O—okay.”

Morpheus walks away awkwardly. His mouth burns with the gentle pressure of Hob’s kiss, and his skin prickles with the ghost of Hob’s touch. I am in trouble. He waits until he gets back to his room before closing the door, leaning against the wood, and letting out a heavy sigh. He truly is in trouble. So much trouble.

This was such an awful idea. He should never have gone along with Hob’s half-baked plan.

Morpheus can admit, only in the deepest stretch of night, that he has been in love with Hob since they were fourteen and he was clambering through Hob’s window after yet another disastrous dinner at home. Hob had always vowed to pull Morpheus away from the home life he was subjected to. Morpheus had always wanted Hob to do exactly that.

It was a dream never to come to fruition. Hob would never rescue Morpheus, but uni would. Morpheus struck out on his own—or, rather, not on his own but with Hob. They had no classes together, and they didn’t share a room. But they always made time for a weekly lunch, and more often than not, Hob could be found sat at the desk, head pillowed on his arms as he slept off hours of studying.

It was no wonder, really, that Morpheus would develop feelings for Hob. He had been a constant in Morpheus’s life for too long. Morpheus will never act on them, not honestly. This facade is as close as he will ever get to knowing Hob’s affection.

Hob’s parents leave shortly before sundown, and Hob slumps as soon as their car is out of sight.

“You’ve no idea how you’ve saved me, mate.”

Morpheus shrugs, tucking his hands into his pockets. “You have done enough for me over the years.”

“Film marathon?”

Morpheus only nods. His skin already prickles with the imagined heat of Hob’s body so near as they sit on the bed, side-by-side with their arms pressed together, as Morpheus’s laptop plays whatever film Hob has chosen.

He never lets Morpheus choose, not since he put on a documentary about galaxies. Hob had fallen asleep with his head on Morpheus’s shoulder and his hand on Morpheus’s thigh. Morpheus, for his part, had stayed as still as possible for as long as possible if only to enjoy what would never truly be his.

Lucienne stares at Morpheus the next morning over the table in the dining hall. “You’re bothered by something.”

“I am fine,” he protests.

He doesn’t know why he’s lying to her. She is as close to him as Hob is. In different ways, of course. Lucienne knows of his love for Hob, the dreams he has of one day Hob knowing and loving him back. She knows things that Morpheus could never tell Hob if he doesn’t want to ruin their friendship.

“It has to do with Hob, doesn’t it?”

“Luce—”

“Morpheus… What did you do this time?”

Morpheus opens his mouth to argue, but there’s no point. So he admits to the scheme and how it’s already hurting to pretend something he’s wanted for so long. Lucienne sets her spoon down and reaches across the table to hold his hand.

“You are one of my dearest friends, you know this, right?” At his nod, she squeezes his hand and frowns. “I say this with love: This is perhaps the stupidest thing you have ever done.”

“I don’t think—”

“I do. I absolutely do believe you are an utter fool for going along with this. It is breaking your heart, despite your saying otherwise.”

“Hob would never hurt me.”

“Hob doesn’t know he’s doing it, does he? He thinks this is a way of placating his family, but he doesn’t know you wish it was real. But he is absolutely hurting you.” She sighs and pushes her glasses up her nose. “I think you should put an end to this before you get hurt beyond repair.”

“I will follow through on my promise,” he all but growls as he yanks his hand away.

“I’m sorry, Morpheus, but… I can’t watch you destroy yourself just to make him happy. When will you ever put yourself first?”

She rises to her feet and strides away without waiting for an answer. Morpheus lays his spoon flat on the table, burying his face in his hands, and draws in a shaky breath. Lucienne has never walked away from him. Not like this. Not with such disappointment and disapproval in her eyes. She has always understood, even when she scolded him for being a pushover when it came to Hob.

Thankfully, Hob has decided that their charade should continue on campus though his family is nowhere near. “Easier to stay in character whenever they come around,” he says as he hefts his bag further onto his shoulder, “if we’re never really out.”

In character. Right. Morpheus wishes he could stop forgetting it’s just a game of make-believe.

So Morpheus does his damnedest to not preen whenever Hob holds his hand or presses a warm kiss to his cheek or pulls him in for an embrace that lasts a beat too long to be platonic. There is no stopping the skip of his heart and the fire in his blood with each touch, and he can’t control his dreams of which Hob has taken control. What were once idle musings, innocent ‘what ifs’, have now become things of want. Morpheus always wakes himself, but just once, he aches to allow himself to dream of what being with Hob might feel like.

“So where’s Lucienne been?” Hob asks as he drives them back to the house he rents with three classmates.

“We are… at odds with one another,” Morpheus admits, his heart sinking in his chest at the reminder.

It’s been nearly a week since she walked away from Morpheus that morning, and there’s been no contact since. She doesn’t even look in his direction anymore.

“Thought you two were close?”

“The same could be said about us.”

Hob huffs out a laugh and glances at Morpheus. “Trying to say you and I could be on the outs just as easily?”

No, never. I love you too much. “I have my doubts.”

Every light in the house is on by the time Hob parks, and people spill out through the front door, milling around in the freezing late-January air. Hob shakes his head with a snort of amusement, then he and Morpheus exit the car. They shove their way through the partygoers until they’re in the warmth of inside. Hob gestures toward the kitchen, disappearing when Morpheus nods an acknowledgement. He weaves around clusters of fellow students dancing, gyrating and bouncing on the balls of their feet; liquid sloshes from cups held in aloft, and Morpheus doesn’t manage to dodge a splash in time. The whisky drips down his right arm, and the young woman squeaks out an apology.

He ignores her and finds a place off to the side to stand. Hob will find him in this crowd. Hob always does.

“I just… I don’t get it,” Marcus slurs almost two hours later, waving his cup of beer around. “Hobsie has never dated anyone since unie started, and now he’s dating you?”

John snorts and nods vigorously. “Yeah. What makes you so special?”

“Just because you’re his friend,” Marcus adds, and if Morpheus didn’t know better, he’d say Marcus is pouting. That Marcus is jealous.

Morpheus swallows thickly, acid rising his blood. His cheeks burn, and he blinks rapidly. It would do no good for them to realise how they have affected him so. They need not know they’ve voiced doubts that should not exist. If Hob’s friends doubt the validity of the relationship, it’s only a matter of time before others do, too.

He shoves himself between John and Lyle, storms across the room.

Hob’s eyes widen when Morpheus cups his cheeks and tugs him in for a hard kiss. The first kiss Morpheus has ever initiated, and it’s out of spite. Hob exhales sharply, whisky-stained breath ghosting across Morpheus’ heated cheeks, as Morpheus drags his tongue along the seam of his lips. Are you sure? is spoken in the hesitation.

I am certain, Morpheus replies just as silently in the way he tilts his head.

Someone cheers while another whistles, the shrill sound cutting through the music. Hob wraps an arm around Morpheus’s shoulders and somehow deepens the kiss further. Morpheus’s stomach clenches. His knees could give out at any minute. He never would have imagined Hob as such a skilled kisser; certainly none of the chaste kisses prior to now indicated as much.

“C’mon,” Hob murmurs in Morpheus’s ear, “let’s get away from the audience.”

Morpheus lets Hob link their fingers together, lets him steer them toward the stairs amid catcalls and more whistles. People clap hands to shoulders and give winks and bright smiles as the couple passes.

None of them know how fake this is.

How Morpheus doesn’t want it to be fake anymore.

As soon as his bedroom door is shut and locked behind them, Hob seems to lose all confidence. He scratches at his brow then tugs at his left earlobe. Morpheus bites back a smile and passes him to sit on the bed. Hob hesitates, stands completely still, then moves toward Morpheus.

“Might as well make it seem more real, right?” he whispers before his lips crash to Morpheus’s again.

Morpheus closes his eyes as another crack runs through his heart. He keeps forgetting this is an act. That Hob doesn’t truly care for him like that. It’s only a beneficial agreement to get Hob’s family to back off. Morpheus pulls back, forcing a smile.

“If we want to make it seem real,” he whispers, lips brushing Hob’s, “we might as well give them something to gossip about.”

Hob’s brows furrow, mouth opening, but Morpheus moans aloud. Hob rears back, watches as Morpheus whines his name, as he crawls across the bed to smack at the wall. Intelligent young man he is, Hob catches on quickly and joins Morpheus at the head of the mattress. Morpheus wants it to be real, hearing Hob groaning like this, and he lets out a rumbled moan that echoes in the sudden quiet.

Music no longer filters through the floor, the door. They are listening, Morpheus thinks even as he opens his mouth. Out spills a litany of pleas; desire and want make themselves known in each word. Hob smacks the wall with his fist as he moans out a ‘You feel amazing’.

Morpheus’s entire world narrows to this—the tightening in his gut as his gaze runs along Hob’s body, the tenting of Hob’s joggers, the lust in Hob’s eyes most likely mirroring his own. It may be fake, this agreement, but Morpheus’s lust is overwhelmingly real. He reaches for Hob, hand clutching at his T-shirt, and yanks his best friend toward him.

Music blares from the speakers once more, drowning out the low groan that escape Hob’s lips.

Morpheus doesn’t know who leans in first, but it feels like no time has passed before Hob is sprawled, naked and straining beneath him. Morpheus’s hands make quick work of shucking his own shirt, his trousers, his boxer-briefs until he can straddle Hob’s hips with nothing between them. The heated point of contact spurs on the fire in his blood.

Morpheus knew of Hob’s thighs, his belly slightly soft but still so muscular, and the soft curls covering his chest. He knew of that—too many years in each other’s lives—but it’s nothing compared to what his clothes have kept hidden. He leans down to kiss Hob, gasping at the pressure against his cock, then slides along his best friend’s body until his mouth hovers over Hob’s dick.

“Do you want this?” he murmurs as he presses his forehead to Hob’s hip. “Hob… Tell me to stop.”

Hob reaches with one shaking hand to card his fingers through Morpheus’s hair. “Don’t. Please, don’t stop.”

Morpheus carefully takes Hob into his mouth, slowly draws him in further, until his nose brushes the thatch of hair at the base. Hob’s hips jerk, but he stills as Morpheus adjusts to the weight on his tongue. The strain of his jaw. The taste of skin and precum and everything Hob. He pulls back until just the tip rests between his lips, and he looks up at Hob through his lashes.

His friend’s head is dropped back against the pillows, hands spread to his sides and clutching at the bedsheets, and sweat glistens already on his bare skin. Morpheus hums in approval before swallowing Hob down once more.

One of Hob’s hands finds a home in Morpheus’s hair moments later. Morpheus lets him tug and push, guide him in a rhythm that pleases Hob. Saliva drips from the corners of his lips as Hob fucks into his mouth with such gentleness that Morpheus could cry. Somehow, Hob knows just how deep he can go without choking Morpheus, and isn’t that enough to spark a goddamn inferno in Morpheus’s chest?

“L—love, stop.”

Morpheus immediately does as asked, massaging at his jaw as he meets Hob’s eye. Hob reaches for him, and Morpheus goes willingly. Straddles Hob’s hips once more. Hob mumbles out an apology, an excuse of being too close already. Without speaking, Morpheus leans to the side and opens the drawer to the nightstand, pulls out the bottle of lube he knows is there. Once it’s in hand, he presses it to Hob’s chest and swallows harshly.

“Fuck me.”

The words are crass, inelegant, and they draw a groan from deep in Hob’s throat. “Oh, this must be a dream,” he says even as he fumbles for the lube. “This is a dream, isn’t it?”

You dream of this? The question doesn’t fall from Morpheus’s lips. Instead, he ducks his head to kiss Hob and allows the other man to pull him closer. Morpheus plants one hand against the wall, the other on Hob’s chest, as Hob slides a finger between his arsecheeks. A gasp stutters free when Hob’s fingertip catches on his hole; Hob smiles up at him, an interesting little curve of his lips and softened eyes full of something too close to wonder and love, and presses inward.

Morpheus doesn’t do this often. He hasn’t done this in over a year, and even then, it wasn’t like this. It was never right with Cori. There was just enough care that Morpheus wouldn’t be injured while Cori fucked him with fervour, but it didn’t feel as natural as it does now. Morpheus knows it isn’t real, it never will be.

At least he’ll have this memory when it ends. He isn’t sure if that makes it better or worse.

By the time he sinks onto Hob’s cock, inching himself slowly down until he’s fuller than he has ever been, Morpheus is nearly sobbing with want. He rolls his hips and digs his fingernails into the expanse of Hob’s chest as he loses track of everything but this.

He has never allowed himself to imagine what Hob looks like completely nude, but he gets to see it now. He gets to feel every inch of his best friend and the trembling between his thighs. He learns what Hob’s kisses taste like and what he sounds like with that first glide of their bodies.

The noiess Hob makes are more beautiful now. His moans and gasps are because of Morpheus, for Morpheus. Morpheus rolls his hips again, stealing the moan that splits the air between them, and does it again. Hot hands grip his waist, and Morpheus follows where Hob leads, rises and falls with his touch.

He has wanted this for so long. His eyes burn, tears building but not falling.

“Oh, God,” Hob moans as Morpheus moves more quickly, more insistently. “Fuck, this is—You are better than any dream, love.”

Morpheus would be his dream if Hob let him be.

“So are you,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss Hob again. His head spins with each thrust, each stroke of their tongues, each breath lingering between them. “Don’t stop. Please, I beg of you.”

“Never, my dream, never.”

The tear slips free before Morpheus can stop it. He sits upright as Hob’s hips snap up, as he buries himself even deeper. Pressing his palms to Hob’s shoulders, Morpheus rises until just the tip remains inside of him, stares down at Hob for a second. Dark brown eyes meet his, and brows furrow in concern—Morpheus will always be able to read those expressions so clearly. Before Hob can say anything and ruin the illusion, Morpheus lowers himself swiftly and forces away any words Hob might have had.

Hob pushes up onto one elbow, an arm wrapping around Morpheus’s shoulders, and plants his feet against the mattress. Morpheus keens with the change in angle, the forceful thrusts as Hob’s cock slides across his prostate. His nails dig into Hob’s skin as he lets himself be fucked until all he can think of is Hob, Hob, Hob.

Hob’s name is the sweetest thing on his lips when he comes.

As he stares down at Hob, body rocking as his best friend chases his own release, Morpheus’s only regret is that he can never make the look in Hob’s eyes last forever.

Morpheus leaves Hob’s room the next morning with a breaking heart and knowledge he can never come back from.

Though the act is meant to be of the two of them as a couple for Valentine’s Day two days after the party, Morpheus expects nothing for the day in question. What he gets, however, is a bouquet of cloth flowers, a box of chocolates, and an invitation for their first date. Hob sits far too close as his fingers lace with Morpheus’s; if anyone doubts the relationship now, no one speaks of it. Morpheus accepts the invitation as eagerly as possible, though he seeks out Lucienne as soon as Hob has disappeared off to class.

“You were right,” he says once he finds her in the library.

“Oh?”

“I should have listened to you. It was… It is such a foolish idea that I could do this for Hob without being hurt in the process.”

She finally looks away from her book, and whatever she sees on his face has her full attention. She pushes aside her notepad and pen, clasping her hands together before her. “Oh, Morpheus. What happened?”

“I made a grievous mistake,” he manages to utter. “I thought I would be fine.”

“But you aren’t.”

He squeezes his eyes closed against the burning, but the tears slip free. “I am not.”

“End this, Morpheus. Tell Hob you can no longer do as he wants.”

“I cannot break a promise. I never have before.”

“Morpheus…”

“You said you cannot watch me destroy myself. Please do not make me go through this alone.”

“How much longer?” she asks after a long moment, and Morpheus lets out a trembling breath. “When will this farce end?”

“We agreed it would happen sometime after today.”

“One week, Morpheus. For your sake, do not let it drag on longer.”

Morpheus readily agrees. Lucienne has always been pragmatic and so human. So knowledgeable. She’s right.

He doesn’t tell her about the date Hob has planned.

The date goes better than Morpheus expected. They go to dinner at a rather upscale restaurant; Morpheus pointedly doesn’t ask how Hob earned enough money to pay for such extravagance—or why he’s gone for something so… much. After, they go for a stroll through the city park, bundled up tightly in their coats and leaning into each other’s warmth.

Hob is the consummate gentleman the entire time, even walks Morpheus to his door at the end of the night. Morpheus shifts awkwardly as they stand in the corridor before Hob takes all chances from him: He leans forward and kisses Morpheus softly, tentatively, as if seeking permission. Morpheus gives it willingly, far more eagerly than he had accepted the date. His hand fumbles for the doorknob, but it finally twists beneath his palm, and they stumble over the threshold.

Hob manages to close the door behind him, apologising into the kiss when it slams into its frame. Morpheus doesn’t give a damn. He only nips at Hob’s lower lip and lets his hands roam. Thankfully, they both know the layout of the room, have had it memorised since Morpheus moved in, so it’s no hardship to find his bed without looking.

There are no tears this time, though there is a sharper, more violent kind of pain that curls deep in Morpheus’s chest. It digs its claws in more securely, scratching idly as his cum stripes across Hob’s belly. You’re beautiful. The beast snarls and sinks its teeth into his soul. Be mine. There is no dislodging the creature that eats through the cracks in his heart.

Hob comes with a bitten off “Fuck, Dream of mine,” and Morpheus feels the last of himself being devoured.

Unfortunately, ‘breaking up’ with Hob turns out to be impossible. The first time he tries at the end of the week, he ends up bare-arsed leaning over a desk as Hob fucks him quick and dirty. The second time, another week has passed, and he has Hob on his knees and is fucking into his best friend’s mouth almost viciously.

The third time… The third time damn near kills him, and it isn’t even him who does it.

“We should end this,” Hob says suddenly, as if they aren’t holding hands while having a pleasant stroll across campus to enjoy the rare warmth. “I mean… Valentine’s Day is over, right?”

“R—right.”

Hob shrugs and stares at the bare branches of the trees lining the paths. He doesn’t speak for a long minute. Even if he had, Morpheus would never have heard him. Not for the thundering in his ears and the beast screaming in his chest. Hob sighs and nudges Morpheus with his shoulder.

“No point in continuing the charade. So now we can go back to how things used to be.”

“What will you tell your family?” Morpheus chokes out; he’s oddly proud of how steady his voice remains.

“I’ll figure something out, I always do.” After a short pause, Hob speaks again, voice lower, “Thank you. For, er, going along with it.”

Morpheus carefully disentangles his fingers from Hob’s and steps away. Both come to a stop in the middle of the pavement, Hob with furrowed brow and Morpheus with shattering heart. Forcing a smile, Morpheus does the only thing he can: He turns and walks away.

Hob doesn’t call after him.

The ‘relationship’ is over. The friendship is over, and it’s all because he couldnt’ say no to Hob. If he had, if he’d just told Hob to find someone—anyone—else, Morpheus wouldn’t be losing the best friend he’s ever had. He wouldn’t know what it’s like to fall asleep beside Hob or to have Hob so damn deep inside of him, he can almost drink the love that doesn’t exist. He would be clueless as to what Hob’s release tastes like and what it feels like to open up for wandering, persistent fingers and a dick that fits so well.

To Morpheus’s surprise, Hob doesn’t try to find him over the next week. Then again, it isn’t as if Morpheus is off searching for Hob, though. He spends the hours between classes in the library with Lucienne or locked in his room. It’s easier this way. At least if he’s alone, he can’t be reminded of Hob or the incredibly poorly-conceived farce to convince the Gadlings that Hob needed no help in finding a partner. Morpheus doesn’t have to see Hob’s friends, he doesn’t risk running into his former best friend at all.

Former. How devastatingly lonesome a word can be. Morpheus thought that if he and Hob were to ever end their friendship, it would be over a mistake that Morpheus made. That Morpheus would be the one to walk away. That’s exactly what happened.

It isn’t satisfying to be right.

The friendship is truly over, Morpheus thinks, when it’s been over a month and there has been no sign of Hob, no word from him. They know each other’s schedules, the routines, so Morpheus is well aware of the fact that Hob is going out of his way to avoid Morpheus. The only reason he would do that is if Hob wanted nothing more to do with Morpheus.

The beast has grown larger, more violent, especially in the night. Though he’s washed his bedsheets dozens of times, he can almost smell Hob in the threads. The ghost of a memory brings with it the sounds Hob made that night, every time they touched and came together and found pieces of themselves mixed in the other. The creature has devoured Morpheus’s heart. Now it feeds off his soul, the love he yearns to share with Hob but never can.

Matthew, an audacious and quite persistent American student, somehow convinces Lucienne and Morpheus to come with him to dinner to “celebrate the end of exams”. Rather, he convinces Lucienne who convinces Morpheus. After the support she’s given him since the debacle with Hob, the least Morpheus can do is go along with her plans.

She admits, as she walks with Morpheus to Matthew’s room, that the American has grown on her.

“He’s… brash and crass, sometimes, but he could be worse.”

“Do you have feelings for him?” Morpheus asks, frowning when her peal of laughter rings out.

“Of course not. I don’t dislike him, but there is nothing there. Worry not, Morpheus, you would be the first to know if I harboured any feelings toward someone.”

For as bold as Matthew is, his driving is the complete opposite. He drives carefully, as if Morpheus and Lucienne are precious cargo, and Morpheus relaxes further into his seat the longer they go without an accident.

The diner is nearly empty when they walk in. Morpheus looks around—ignores Professor Dee sat at the counter with a cup of coffee—only to freeze when his gaze lands on the back corner. Matthew’s large hand shoves at his shoulder until he stumbles forward a step.

“Good luck,” Lucienne whispers as she and Matthew move to a booth off to the side.

‘Good luck’?

No.

But it’s too late. Hob has seen him. Morpheus can’t walk away now; it would look too much like running. So he straightens his spine and weaves his way around the tables until he reaches the booth in which Hob sits.

“Hello, Hob.”

“We need to talk.”

Morpheus glances over his shoulder. Lucienne watches closely. Matthew gives him a thumbs-up and a bright, encouraging smile. It hardly does the trick, but Morpheus appreciates the gesture. He sits across from Hob.

“I fucked things up, didn’t I.”

It isn’t a question, but Morpheus answers anyway: “No.”

“Don’t lie to me, Morpheus.” Hob shakes his head and stares at the tabletop. “I should never have asked you to pretend to be my boyfriend. I should have known it would only ruin our friendship.”

“It wasn’t—it wasn’t that.”

Hob’s gaze leaps to Morpheus’s face. Heat lives in the brown, and his lips are pressed into a tight line. “Then what was it? Because from where I’m sat—”

“We slept together.” Hob falls silent, and Morpheus swallows against the lump in his throat. The tears in his eyes. “We slept together, which was not what I planned.”

“You wanted it, too.”

“Hob. I am not accusing you of taking advantage of me.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying it became too real for me,” Morpheus admits in a rush.

The words tumble between them. Hob sighs and picks at the corner of his napkin. Morpheus sits awkwardly, waiting for some sort of response. Eventually, Hob blows out a breath.

“It was real to me, too.”

“Then why did you—?”

“Because I knew you were trying to end it,” Hob snaps, and Morpheus rears back. This is a side to his best friend he’s rarely seen before, and never aimed at him. “Shit, sorry. Not… I just—I wanted nothing more than to make it real, to not have it be pretend anymore, but I knew you were trying to find the right time to give me the boot.”

“I thought it was nothing to you. That I was only hurting myself for your happiness.”

“Oh, love.”

Hob reaches across the table with one hand, and Morpheus hesitates. Can this actually be real? Or is this a dream he’s meant to wake from, to suffer through only to find himself alone in bed with only the monster in his chest for company?

But no, Hob is smiling something tender, hopeful, and Morpheus‘s heart jolts beneath his ribs. He knows that smile, though it’s never quite been aimed at him like this. Not so soft.

He takes Hob’s hand, face heating at the loud “Fuck yes!” that comes from behind him. He can hear Lucienne hissing something—most likely an admonishment—but Hob’s laughter distracts him. Hob clears his throat as all amusement fades.

“I… I guess I should have talked to you instead of making assumptions.”

“I could have done the same,” Morpheus counters.

“So now that’s out of the way, should we invite Lucienne and her friend over?”

“Why would we do that?”

“Because they brought you to me.”

Hob gestures before Morpheus can respond. This was all orchestrated by Hob? It makes a certain amount of sense. It would have been too much of an unbelievable coincidence for Hob to just be in the same place that Matthew and Lucienne would bring Morpheus. But why?

If Hob is telling the truth—if it was as real to him as it ever was for Morpheus—then…

Morpheus blinks back tears and squeezes Hob’s hand.

The beast yowls in protest, but it’s devoured by the warmth Hob has always provided.

The quartet are unceremoniously ushered from the diner at half-eleven. Matthew and Lucienne go to his car, while Morpheus follows Hob to his. The drive back to the dormitories is quiet, though Hob never releases Morpheus’s hand. Once they arrive, Morpheus leads Hob through the corridors to his room.

“I’m sorry it took such a mess to get us here,” Hob says with a wry smile, and Morpheus shakes his head.

“When have you ever taken the easy route?”

“Would you want to go on another date?”

Morpheus chews on his lower lip, nods. What a ridiculous question. Of course he wants another date. He wants more than one; he wants a lifetime’s worth.

“Pick me up Friday after Psychology?”

“Got it.” Hob leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to Morpheus’s lips. “Goodnight, my dream.”

Morpheus watches him disappear around the corner before opening his door. Closing it behind him feels a lot like closing a book on an unfinished chapter. Something doesn’t feel right about how they’ve left it.

He yanks open the door once more only to collide with Hob. He cradles Hob’s cheeks with shaking hands and meets his gaze.

“Do you mean it? Am I really your dream?”

“You are,” Hob manages before Morpheus is dropping a hand to his T-shirt, fisting the collar and tugging Hob inside.

[grayintogreen]

WIP WEDNESDAY

I'm maintaining my schedule of posting every other Wednesday, so we're one week away from the next chapter of you can't deny high noon, so here's a taste to tide you over, featuring Fjord!

-

“Do you think the Sages survived us killing Vokodo?”

“I went back to the cabin after I felt the fog lift. There was… Um. Not a whole lot to talk about left behind?” The look on her face said that what she actually did find was best left undescribed.

The relief about that not being an issue was tempered by the mention of Lydas’s name. It shouldn't have taken him this long to realize it, and once he did, he felt terribly stupid. He did another quick scan of the village just to be certain he hadn't missed something- Lukash and Terra; Dianda, no longer a pig (and none of those were their actual names but he had yet to be introduced to them properly); Lowry was dead; Vilya was right here beside him.

No Lydas. No Rosaline.

”Are we missing a few?“ He asked, conversationally, hoping not to alarm the druid walking beside him.

”I don't know how many fell back at the ruins,“ Vilya admitted. ”Twiggy and I fled because the fey were handling it. I wanted to make it back to the village before Lydas did, in case…“

In case he called shenanigans. Everything about the halfling said that he was a sore fucking loser and he'd just lost, potentially, the source of his magic. As someone who had endured that sting, he had a sense for what that might do to a person.

”Mm,“ he murmured, nodding. ”I just noticed he isn't here.“

Vilya's face went pale- okay, so that was something to be alarmed about. Good to know. ”I don't know where he would have gone if not back here or to the Sages, and the fey were holding that area until it wasn’t necessary.”

So unless Artagan and Luna got bored and left their posts early, just in time for Lydas to circle back and watch his masters dissolve into corpse sludge, he'd gone somewhere else, somewhere unpredictable for someone who should have known his movements. “Rosaline is missing too. Would they have gone to the Ruins?”

“Maybe, but just the two of them is a death sentence- even for her.” Vilya's expression twisted, unpleasantly. ”She thrives there in a way I never realized should have been wrong.“

Fjord thought about the broken holy symbol around her neck and shuddered. ”Thriving in a lion's den doesn't mean the lions won't eat you if they're hungry enough. I think she's smarter than that and if she isn't, Lydas definitely is.”

He didn't like smart enemies. They had a few too many on their dance cards as it is. “I hate having a loose end, don't you?”

Vilya made a noncommittal noise, but any further discussion about what they should do to make absolutely certain the fucker didn't turn up unexpectedly was halted by the sound of a dog barking.

A familiar dog barking. He blinked. “Rock?” He gave a whistle. “Rock! Uh… Fuck me, what is that word?” Gods, he hated Sylvan as a language. It was never pronounced the way it looked on paper. ”Anseo.“

He must have said it right, or at least close enough for Rock's liking, as two hundred pounds of lanky blink dog appeared in front of him, ears back and whining, and fighting the urge to jump on him by doing unhappy paw taps on the grass. Well, at least he was learning to be polite. Yasha had a great future in monster dog training ahead of her.

”This is Yasha's dog,” Fjord said by way of explanation as he held out his hand in the hopes of getting Rock to calm down. “We left him on our ship. Did you miss your mother that much, boy?”

Rock bared his teeth and whined, sinking bodily down into the grass. Yasha, as if sensing his distress, was suddenly right there next to Fjord as if she’d teleported.

“What're you doing here, buddy?” She knelt down and began to play with his ears. In response, he licked her hand and whined harder. “Hey, it's okay.”

“He's frightened,” Vilya said and whether that was just an observation of the obvious or she'd opened up a direct line of communication to him made little difference. The confirmation was just proof that something was amiss.

The stone in Fjord's pocket was suddenly a bit too heavy. He yanked it out, took a few steps back, and activated it. “Orly? The dog's here with us. Is something going on?”

On the other end of the stone, a voice that was very much not Orly's, the cold drawl more deliberate and sharp, responded: “Orly's a bit busy, Captain Stone. Can I take a message?”

Speak of the motherfucking devil. Fjord hissed between his teeth. “Is this Lydas? Or do you have a different name you'd prefer to go by?”

“I think I'm fine with Lydas, actually.”

Fjord looked to Yasha, wide-eyed and on her feet and nodded to her and Vilya to go and get the rest of the Nein while he kept Lydas talking. The longer he kept him on the stone, the less damage he was likely to cause. He hoped.

“Fair enough. Why do you have my navigator's sending stone? I believe I specifically gave orders for him to circle the island and not set foot on it, so either I have an insubordinate crew or you've just made a terrible mistake.”

“Well, since you destroyed Vokodo a lot of things that weren't possible for us are suddenly very possible… Like taking the dugouts a bit farther out to sea than we normally would have.“

Shit. Balls. Fucking- “I see.“

He paused, half for effect and half to make sure the anxiety in his head didn't color his next words. ”What do you want, Lydas?“

A beat. ”I'm sorry, Captain, are you under the mistaken impression that this is a negotiation?“

”That's usually how this goes, isn't it? 'Oh I have your wife, do my dark bidding.' And so on.“

Lydas chuckled. “Just tell your friend I'm finishing the story.”

Ass. Fuck. Balls. Shit.

Fjord calmly pocketed the stone again. Yasha had done her part while he'd been on the line with their latest fucking loose end. He gave an awkward sniff and locked eyes with Lucien. ”How do you think someone would go about finishing the story on this place?“

He shrugged, insufferably calm until he had a reason to pop off. ”How anyone does it, I imagine. Start it over and hope it goes better this time.“

”Mmhmm.“ Of course. That made sense. ”And Cree, it's slipped my mind, but how many people are on our crew besides us?“

Cree opened her mouth to give a matter-of-fact answer, only to choke on it and become less certain- not of the answer, itself (of course she knew that much), but of the implications. ”Seven.“

Ass. Balls. Shitfuck.

Fjord smiled tightly. ”Isn't that convenient?”