#his mossy boy

[sweetfirebird]

Just realized/remembered weed was not legal here when His Mossy Boy was written. Jessie's grocery store weed dealer is out of job now. lol

[vashti-lives]

Imagine Martin working furiously hard on a project only to present Ian with… this…

[inpursuitofnunchi]

GODDAMN RORONOA ZORO

[dreamspring]

he is a small puppy to me

[kings-of-the-arctic-sea]

catboy cowboy .

catboy cowboy . . . ?

catboy cowboy

[cat-less version below cut]

[apileofmoss]

people in ranboo's notes need to think b4 they say stuff

[tormentedbyvisions]

is it just me or have people forgotten about every single thing that neil gaiman has created besides good omens

[mossyinkynebulous]

Can I interest you in some vibes?

Inktobertale and Ink belong to Comyet.

Epic Sans belongs to Yugogeer012.

[timmydraker]

Tim had a jumper that doesn’t seem all that special, but to Alfred, Bruce and Dick is incredibly important. Dare they say vital to caring for Tim.

It’s a big wooly thing, once a pale mossy green but now with a hint of brown and white from fading and use. It’s too big for him to the point that the sleeves have to be bunched up when worn and even than they hang over his hands.

It looks like a dress on him, which isn’t help but his naturally slim build.

The jumper is held in such high regard because when Tim puts it on it means that he’s not feeling like he usually does.

His confidence, his snark, his wit, and his mental strength is either hard to reach or impossible.

Tim, in the only instance he actually talked about what was going on when he wasn’t wearing the jumper, said he felt both like a tiny little fish in a giant pond and like his skin was a sheet of paper.

Bruce talked to Dinah about it and said it was most likely a form of mental regression, but Tim refused for it to be called him being ‘little’ or anything that would remind him of being a kid again.

Because he doesn’t act like a kid, but maybe it’s not right to associate Tim Drake with a normal child behaviour pattern. He doesn’t babble or whine or want to watch kids shows like Dinah had suggest he might, but he does go non verbal or only say one or two words in response to pretty much anything.

He puts his jumper on and will just… sit there.

Tim is always moving or thinking, always doing, but when he gets in his ‘jumper state’ as Alfred calls it, he tends to slow down completely and just want to sit somewhere warm and feel the fluff of his carefully maintained jumper.

Sometimes, he seeks out warmth outside of heaters and fires and the sun.

It’s on one of those days when Tim stalks down to the Cave with his jumper on, hair messy over his head and hands held up to his chest in an almost shy manner.

Jason notices him first and simply raises an eyebrow in confusion while Damian scoffs, “What on earth are you wearing, Drake? That looks moldy-“

But Tim doesn’t even look at him, eyes on the floor as he goes over to Bruce at the computer and pokes the older man’s shoulder once before retracting his hand.

Bruce immediately turns and opens his arms, an almost heartbroken look on his face as he lets Tim drawl onto his lap and bury his face in the crook of his neck.

“I’ve got you. Anything in particular or just one of those days?”

Tim speaks in a voice like a husk that Damian and Jason only hear because they’ve come closer and sound travels in the cave, “Janet, birthday.”

Bruce Wayne, The Batman, The Caped Crusader, then fucking coos and kisses his head before rocking him slightly.

“That makes sense. Do you need someone here tonight? I can call Dick or stay myself if you need.”

The two other boys in the room look at each other, shocked to hear Bruce say he will give up a patrol to seemingly cuddle someone.

Tim shakes his head, “Alfred.”

Bruce nods, kissing his head again and saying, “Thank you for coming to me so I can help you. I’m so proud of you for not making yourself go through this alone again.”

It’s not exactly a whine that leaves Tim, but it’s not a word that is Bruce’s answer.

Jason comes forward and awkwardly scratches the back of his head, “I don’t really know what’s going on, but can I like… help or something?”

Bruce smiled as Tim nods against him after a few moments, the boy in his arms turning to reach a hand out for Jason and then strangely patting the hand Jason offers up for him.

Damian, not trying to be rude but needing to understand what is going on, clears his throat and demands, “Explain what is wrong with Drake.”

Luckily Bruce had gotten better at understanding how his son communicates and looks to Tim for permission before answering, “Sometimes Tim needs to… be free of responsibility and just feel like a person for a bit. He isn’t always up for talking and just wants to be around people he trust, and me, Dick and Alfred have managed to convince him to actually come to us when he needs that.”

Bruce smiles at where at where Tim is holding Jason’s hand and swinging it around a bit before feeling over the rough calluses and thick fingers with apparent joy.

Damian frowns a little at his father’s explanation but nods regardless, “Very well, we shall set up the family room for the evening before we head out for patrol.”

Bruce smiled and pulls Damian’s head over to kiss his hairline as he hears Jason mutter, “Weird little guy, aren’t ya?”

Tim hums and pinches his finger and smiling at his older brothers yelp.

[sweetfirebird]

A Fairy in Everlasting

Feverfew Mole on Patreon made two donations but only one request, but it’s okay, because I went long with it. I suspect because I had Everlasting on my mind already (for Reasons) and so this happened. Don’t hate me.

Request was: a fairy walks into Everlasting Cuppa

Content tags: mention of homophobia/queer phobia as well as in-universe anti-being prejudice. Spoilers for Treasure for Treasure and His Mossy Boy. (and maybe Little Wolf??? But only slightly and vaguely?) um, some pining I suppose. Of a sort. Sorry not sorry. It is necessary.

Note: this is probably going to end up changed a bit and put into the new thing which is on my mind currently (see above) so… like Albert says, sometimes you have to wait a while. 

A Fairy in Everlasting

Downtown Everlasting was the sort of place travel guides would deem quaint: small buildings and shops in white and faded pastels, neat and orderly sidewalks, old-fashioned street lamps, not a chain store in sight. The downtown was centered around a plaza of brick paths and decorative trees and benches that might have been in any small town if not for the statue of a dragon that had pride of place.

Outside of those few blocks, Everlasting was a tiny town overlooking a bay, with old abandoned canneries visible as one drove into town and wilderness on every other side. The skies above were gray, the mountains green with endless redwoods, the fog was everywhere and nowhere, and the ocean water was chilly blue.

It was beautiful.

Not even the frozen rain that began and ended with no warning could make Pansy think otherwise.

“Civilization and nature in one delightful package,” he said aloud into his phone, recording his impressions so he wouldn’t forget them later. He hadn’t even gotten to the dragons yet, which was the reason most people, including Grimsby, had assumed he’d wanted to come here.

With the attack on the dragon and the resulting court case in the news, the town of Everlasting was under discussion around the country in a way it possibly had never been. The only things keeping more busybodies away was the long drive required to get here, the lingering winter weather, and very likely a fear of the dragons themselves.

Lots of people thought of themselves as accepting, or on the side of one Zarrin Xu, wounded dragon, but the idea of being near dragons would have remained intimidating even if the dragons had been poor; the obscenely rich were their own danger.

Luckily, Pansy was not obscenely rich and never would be and at least never had to worry about that. He darted to a shop window lit with white fairy lights to peer at the antiques and curiosities on display—or would have darted, but his bulky parka and thermal pants beneath his jeans did not allow much darting.

Not the ideal ensemble for a fairy, and especially not to Pansy’s tastes when he did have to wear clothes, but it was so blasted cold up here, and there was so little sun. He very grateful that Grimsby had insisted he take his sun lamp on this adventure of theirs. Pansy would use it later when he returned to their hotel room and woke up the sleeping lump on the other bed.

The only reason he hadn’t woken Grimsby before leaving this morning was that they’d arrived in Everlasting late the night before and poor Grims had done all the driving to get there and deserved some extra rest. Also, no fairy would get very far making friends if they expected everyone to sleep—or not sleep—the way they did.

The shop was not open for the day yet. A pity, but Pansy could investigate it later. He had weeks to explore Everlasting if he wanted. He’d burned with curiosity since first seeing an overhead picture of the town and his brief peek into the town’s history had only convinced him that this was the place to go for atmosphere for his next book or two.

“Everything is set in the city,” he had explained to Queeny, Ginger, Dahlia, and the rest at the impromptu party they’d thrown for him and Grims before they’d left. “Except for the historical shorts. People will get bored. And anyway, what says mystery-romance more than an isolated, foggy, rainy town on the coast?”

They had not been convinced but Pansy had known he was right the second Grims had driven them past the wooden sign announcing they were entering Everlasting, the gloriously decrepit canneries and piers off to one side, the bay beyond that.

The cold, however, was a bit much. He’d have to get better gloves. His fingerless gloves, knitted himself, could not withstand the wet chill.

He chewed his lip, tasting birthday cake-flavored lip gloss, and turned from that window to continue down the sometimes-foggy street in search of people and warmth.

It wasn’t that early, although he imagined all children would be in school and most adults would have gone to work, probably leaving town to do so. Something had to pay for those big homes in the foothills, or the carefully maintain Victorians scattered throughout the area. Not everyone could live in the tinier homes closer to the water that he’d glimpsed on his walk from the hotel.

Several crows perched on a streetlamp ahead of him, their beady eyes reminding Pansy of the stares from the desk clerk at the hotel when he and Grimsby had walked into the lobby. Pansy had assumed that was because of Grimsby—Grims was only a were, and they were always big. Grims was just blessed with the worst RBF known to being and humankind. He’d probably frightened the poor girl, which was why Pansy had stepped forward to discuss the reservation and take care of the details.

Maybe that had surprised her too, a fairy doing that. Pansy was quite organized, all things considered, but recording things did help, as did having a best friend around to poke him and offer reminders.

But none of that explained her staring, or the stares from the new desk clerk this morning. Or how the mailman leaving the post office building had nodded an absent greeting to Pansy before doing a double take and giving him a far more piercing look.

Pansy paused at the next available shop window to peer down at his blue and indigo parka, and then, thoughtfully, at his painted yellow fingernails. A town that was used to dragons surely wouldn’t object to a fairy, or so he’d assumed. But dragons were special to humans as fairies weren’t. Powerful. People made exceptions for power. Maybe with everyone else, older human prejudices remained.

Pansy raised his gaze to study his face, making a kissy face at himself after brushing his purple-lavender bangs from his face. “Gorgeous, darling,” he assured himself, and turned from the window with a bit more determination. “And you’ll heal if anything happens,” he added, quieter, glancing up when the crows above him cawed.

He nodded. “Exactly.” Pansy didn’t get where he was by showing fear.

And if he did feel fear, well, he’d brought a mean-looking were to hide behind.

Speaking of, in addition to wanting to warm up a bit, Pansy should find some hot food and coffee to take back to his growly bestie. Although Grimsby would likely abandon him in favor of some godawful hike through the mountains before too long. Possibly even today, once the fresh air hit him.

The staring, stumbling morning desk clerk had told him there was a coffeeshop in the downtown area. A short walk, she’d said. Pansy had just gotten distracted. But he saw it now, a bright orange glow shining through glass windows and piercing the fog like a beacon.

Everlasting Cuppa. Naturally, not a corporate chain. Something local and hopefully good, although if any place should take coffee seriously, it should be a café in a freezing cold town known for rain. And dragons. But rain in this case.

Pansy sighed happily and opened the door to step inside. The blessed warmth of a coffee shop greeted him and he nearly opened his arms wide to hug the air currently being heated by a heating system, several coffee machines, and ooh, “A fire!”

They had a fireplace in the seating area. He loved this coffeeshop already.

The person in line in front of him turned at his exclamation, turned back, then did a doubletake.

Another one. Pansy frowned and tried to remember his reflection earlier. With his knitted beanie on, the tips of his ears hadn’t been visible. His wings were obviously hidden by his parka. He was dressed—fully dressed even. And his eyes looked dark brown at first glance.

Maybe it was his hair. Maybe this was the sort of town that hadn’t discovered how humans could vibrantly dye their hair yet.

Or maybe he looked like the pansy he was, and they would have stared even without seeing his wings. 

Pansy narrowed his eyes. Ignoring the knot of anxiety in his chest, he pulled off his beanie and shoved it in his coat pocket. Then he ruffled his silky, choppy hair and stared ahead at the display cabinets and the counter and coffee machines and the menu board above it all.

Well, he intended to stare at them, to pointedly mind his own business the way some prejudiced humans could not. Only… only the shine.

Holy shit, Pansy thought helplessly, stunned by his first glimpse behind the counter.

The human at the register was…. Pansy was no shine-chaser though he’d take it when he found it, but the human at the register was exquisite. Oh, average height and pretty as a wedding cake, all warm tones and tattoos and sensitive eyes, a meal of a human boy, no mere snack. But his shine. It filled the space around him, gray and green and brown, chilly blue and iron red. As though he’d taken Everlasting’s colors for his own and made them brighter.

But then, behind and to one side of him, his back to Pansy, was another human of absolutely radiant pale blue and pinks, at such odds with the flaming red hair that it shouldn’t have worked and yet somehow did. He wasn’t as bright but his shine was soft, so soft that Pansy wanted to reach out to pet it.

Pink-and-blue turned his head, smiling crookedly and with infinite adoration at a larger figure waiting to one side. For his drink, Pansy would have assumed if a thought could have fully formed in that moment when he looked to that man and saw… not a man.

Like glimpsing a dragon on the news and seeing more, seeing other, around it. But this was no dragon. This was… a cop.

Pansy blinked several times but the large echo of feeling, of size and strength and wild, swaying shadows, remained around the cop. The big, square-jawed sort of cop, with glasses that did not hide eyes of blazing inhuman blue when the man glanced over toward Pansy and froze.

“Darling, what the hell?” Pansy asked out loud helplessly. “I’ve heard of firebirds having something even humans can see but that’s nothing to you.” He turned to the two shiny lovelies behind the counter who were now also utterly still and staring at Pansy and not in the way he was usually stared at.

Pansy was abruptly back in grade school, one of two beings in the whole school. He nearly winced reflexively as though a dodge ball was coming his way.

Then the whatever-he-was cop said, “I’ve got to go. Sorry,” to the pink and blue one, who had enormous hazel eyes and more freckles than Pansy did. He blinked those eyes when the cop moved away, not even waiting for his coffee.

The blue eyes did not meet Pansy’s as the cop skirted around him and slipped out the door.

“Goodness,” Pansy murmured before facing the rest of the room again.

The first one at the counter, the shiniest of shinies—and oh, oh what did that mean in a town of dragons?—recovered first. “Good day to you too, Forrester,” he said, apparently to the recently departed cop.

“His drink,” the soft shiny added, almost forlorn. But his attention returned to Pansy almost immediately.

On this side of the counter, several customers were waiting either to order or for their drinks. One, an older woman with the steadiest shine Pansy had ever seen, and rather wonderfully butch, gave Pansy a short smile. Pansy beamed back at her in relief; finally, a sensible human with good taste.

Behind the counter was a doorway, presumably to an employees-only area, although a tall figure came out of the doorway and went right behind the counter to the coffee machine. A pretty young wolf, which would delight Grimsby, who hated to shift and run alone. The young wolf had a vibrant shine, as they tended to, moonlight silver, with red-gold sparks around a hole in the center.

“Oh.” Pansy knew what that meant. The precious angel was so young and had lost a mate already. But he smiled at his coworkers and took the drink he’d made himself toward the back, as if he’d just come in for that. Then he saw Pansy and stopped.

“A fairy,” he said warmly, one more sensible person in this town, and kind despite his loneliness.

Pansy fluttered forward as best as he could with his wings in their parka prison. “Does this place attract the shiny?” he asked in a bit of a daze at so much of it in one place. “Do the dragons do it? Or import them or something?”

Mentioning the dragon made the silence worse, or maybe just made Pansy notice it for the first time as some of his dazzled senses began to calm down.

He faced the meal at the register, who cleared his throat and said, “Sorry,” in a low voice. “I just don’t think a fairy has ever been in Everlasting before.”

“And I’m the first!” Pansy was delighted, if a little trepidatious. He tossed his head to show his hair to best effect, that it would matter to this one. Now that Pansy was closer, it was clear that this one, and the other shiny for that matter, had the stamp of claims on them. Their hearts might be open to many things, but they were deeply loved, and by something powerful. Somethings, Pansy supposed, unless Zarrin Xu or the other dragons of Everlasting were hoarding people.

Ah. He glanced to the rabbit-soft human. The mysterious cop who had made him smile.

“That’s all right,” he offered in return, a little too late to pretend he hadn’t also been staring at them. “I’ve never seen so much shine in one place outside of the May Day fest in Madera when all the fairies gather to welcome spring.”

“I thought you were an elf at first,” Rabbit-soft volunteered. “But I’ve only seen one with, uh, I was going to say dyed, but you know, the colored hair.”

Pansy nearly shimmied for him. “Sweetness, your hair has color too. Flames to put a fairy to shame.” Rabbit-soft blushed too, a dark pink that Pansy could probably get darker if he tried. But he took pity. “My wings are under my coat. Your town has been lovely so far but so cold.” He shivered dramatically.

“Is that why?” The fantastic butch wondered. “Why fairies never come here?” she elaborated. “We did used to wonder. Unless it was the dragons keeping you out.”

Pansy shrugged. “I’d imagine dragons are indifferent to fairies, unless they think of them the way so many humans do.” He dragged that out at the end, letting them all think about the reputation that fairies had because he should have some fun in this town if they weren’t going to kill him or hurt him or run him out on a rail. “Tell me,” he leaned in toward her and batted his eyelashes, “what are the best sweet treats here for me? And where in town can I get a good, big breakfast to go for a friend of mine?” He glanced down to her sensible shoes and cuffed jeans and then back up. “And where’s the hardware store so I can get heat packs to put in my shoes and my gloves? Help me, gorgeous. I’m freezing.”

Her snorted laugh seemed to surprise even her. But then she pointed behind her. “Down the street that way. For the hardware store. Bold, aren’t you?”

She loved him. Pansy knew it. “The name is Pansy, oh love of my life. And when your name is Pansy, then a pansy you shall be.”

She cackled, and—be still Pansy’s heart—the pretty human at the register cracked a smile too. It was only for a second, but Pansy had seen it and his wings did their best to flutter despite himself.

“You could explore the park,” he suggested, “you and your friend. It’s open to the public.” He inched back and briefly seemed worried. “But we should probably tell Zarrin first.”

So he knew the dragon from the news. Perhaps that was the dragon who loved him so. That was good. Anyone going through what that dragon was going through should have a shiny, loyal pretty to cling to.

“I’m not a hiker really, not a serious one. I am more the kind to walk around to look at the view and maybe have a picnic. But my friend is, and I’ll pass that along, unless you think we’ll step on some toes. And ah, your sweetest, hottest, largest latte please. I’m not picky. Just cold.”

He gave the tip of his nose a furtive little rub to help warm it faster.

“I’m used to snow,” volunteered the young wolf, “but there’s something about rain that can make the air feel colder.”

“Are you staying in Everlasting long?” Rabbit-soft jumped in. None of the employees had nametags. It was the first time Pansy had ever thought employees should, just so he could meet them all properly.

“As long as it takes,” Pansy answered. “That sounds too mysterious. As long as we feel like, I should say. Until we get bored, probably.”

“Oh good. Jessie would be bummed if she didn’t get to meet you,” Rabbit-soft explained.

“Martin,” sighed the golden-warm one who named dragons freely, “he’s not an exhibit.”

“What?” Martin turned to Pansy guiltily. “Oh no, sorry. It’s just she loves out-of-towners. Especially the cool ones. Although you’re hot, so she’ll probably also…” He stopped, closed his mouth, and began to turn pink again. “That is, I mean,” he glanced to his coworker, then down. “You’re hot,” he said at last.

“Darling.” Pansy meant it. “In another life, I would take you out back and blow your… mind… for that compliment. But I’m not taking this parka off now for anybody. Anyway, you’ve got a big Taken sign all over you.” The pink grew darker. If this town was full of people like him, Pansy was going to have a treat of a time here. “Don’t worry. I’m only teasing. I’m no threat to your dragon.”

“My dragon?” Martin echoed, strangled.  

“Or whatever,” Pansy replied, slowly and thoughtfully.  

Perhaps to distract him, the one from the register moved around Martin to go to the espresso machine to make Pansy’s latte.

Pansy glanced around the room, full of somewhat tense, shiny people, all of whom had gone suspiciously silent again. This town was the perfect setting for a mystery. He had known it from the first second he’d heard the name. And now, having met some of them, in the little coffeeshop the locals loved, radiant with shine and happiness, he knew this town was also the perfect place to set a romance.

Oh he was going to get so much inspiration and have so much fun. Grimsby should never doubt him.

“Thank you.” No one had charged him but he put cash down by the register and stepped over to get his drink, which he held in his hands without putting the lid on it, so it would warm his fingers and cool enough to be sippable.

“Keep asking Ralph to let us try lavender simple syrup,” his wonderful server informed him, sweetly gruff, “but we don’t have it now. But that’s the French vanilla, with no artificial sweeteners. The weres,” he glanced back to the young wolf who hadn’t left, “apparently can taste the fake flavoring. So we have these now. I don’t know that I taste the difference but then, they do also taste better somehow.”

“This is the coffeeshop to go to, I can tell.” Pansy inhaled vanilla again appreciatively.

A chime rang out as a new customer walked in.

“I don’t know what has Forrester in a mood,” someone declared in a calm but very amused tone, “but he came tearing into the station without his usual coffee in hand. So I figured I’d get it for him for the sake of everyone in his sarcasm blast radius and maybe treat myself at the same time. It’s Tuesday,” the calmly amused person added, “Treat Yourself Tuesday is a thing. I’ve just decided.”

He seemed almost merry. Pansy turned, half expecting to see an elf or the sort of roly-poly older human man who delighted in telling silly jokes to strangers. But it wasn’t either. It was another cop. Human, certainly, and smaller than the other, inhuman one. He had a ruddy brown complexion and dark eyes. Average height for a human man. Regular-looking in nearly every way.

But his colors.

His colors.

The ringing, crystal clear, mountain spring purity of them, even as they melded and merged and moved together around him. They were not a shining beacon. Not overwhelmingly bright like the others here but clear. Blue and gray and white, all of them so astonishingly distinct and clear that it was as if a light was coming from behind him. As though he was a beam of light that only Pansy could see.

His wings struggled against the parka.

Pansy stumbled clumsily forward.

The man’s eyes fixed on him with obvious surprise, his gaze drifting up toward Pansy’s hair with a little blink, then falling to one of his ears and the chain cuffs Pansy wore since ear-piercing was impossible.

The man put his head back, then glanced away from Pansy to the others before looking at Pansy again. “A fairy in Everlasting? Well, the times they are a’changin’.”  

Pansy couldn’t seem to manage a darling. “Apparently, I was meant to come here.”

“Really?” asked the human politely. “Well of course you’d come right in here. It’s a popular place.” He didn’t say, for beings, but Pansy thought he heard it. “Welcoming,” the man added with a smile. “And the best coffee. So you’ll probably be a regular soon like everyone else. Excuse me.” He was polite about that too, stepping around Pansy to get to the counter.

As if Pansy weren’t pretty. As if Pansy weren’t the handsomest, most gorgeous creature he’d ever seen.

Pansy slowly turned on his heel to stare at the clear, pure colors of his happiness who didn’t even look back at him.

Then the young wolf was suddenly next to him, leading him to the table where he could add more sugar to his coffee if he wanted or grab a lid. The wolf grabbed the lid for him. “I’d say get it for here, but Schmitty is going to get his to go.”

“Schmitty,” Pansy echoed. Schmitty. Like some sort of old-timey newspaperman’s name. It was horrible how charming that might be.

“It might not be that bad,” the wolf said, as soft as his rabbity coworker, the wolf who’d lost his mate—or perhaps not. “Sometimes, you have to wait a while. That’s all.”

“Wait a while?” Pansy was not the wolf here and yet he howled.

He glanced over, everyone in the coffeeshop, including Schmitty, had turned to stare at him.

“Sweetness,” he said, to the wolf, or the treasure behind the counter, or the butch queen, or the pink and blue bunny, or to Schmitty, perfectly average and perfectly devastating, “what even is this town?”

[hedgehog-moss]

I volunteered to help the florist with her Mother's Day deliveries today, it was fun! My favourite parts of the experience:

early this morning I delivered flowers to women who were busy with morning farm chores, usually out in the barn; some had forgotten it was Mother's Day and were pleasantly surprised to see me show up holding a bunch of flowers above my head (so it wouldn't get eaten by barn animals on the way)

speaking of: one woman let a cow smell the flowers, then said "they're probably treated with chemicals—better not have a taste" with an apologetic look (at her cow)

a little boy opened the door at one point and I said, flowers for your mum! and he called her and while waiting for her to come downstairs, he said, "I learnt a Mother's Day poem at school", so I said, let's hear it! And apparently he hadn't expected that, and he lit up upon realising he would get higher returns on his poem investment than expected. He thought he'd recited it once and it was over but here was a fresh new audience!

a woman whom I found at the back of her garden hanging out with ducks deplored the fact that she didn't have a coin in her pocket for a tip, then said "Do you want to see my baby pigeons?" Yes of course I want to see your baby pigeons. That's a good tip

I delivered a bouquet to someone and a woman next door, who was in her garden, turned to the open window of her house and said, "[Neighbour's name] got flowers! For MOTHER'S DAY."

I later had to return to that street after a last-minute order was placed to this woman's address. Whomever she was talking to inside the house got the message loud and clear :)

at one point I entered a barn that seemed empty (except for cows), said "Is anyone here?" and a goat SPRUNG UP out of nowhere and poked me with her hoof and gave me a heart attack

I returned to the shop and the florist let me pick a couple of plants as thanks, and we had the usual conversation—"Would this cheerful yellow plant thrive in my house?" "No. Your house is under 10°C. Try this one instead." Me: "This one isn't yellow :( It's more austere" Her: "So is your house" (She entered my non-heated kitchen in December once, and ever since I've been trying to convince her that it's not always like that) (just six months per year)

as I sat in the shop waiting for more bouquets to deliver, a man came in to buy roses and the florist started wrapping a ribbon around the bunch and the man asked, could you put a ribbon around each rose? I said aw they're for several mums? :) And he said yeah—that he was going to visit his mum at the retirement home and he wanted to get something "for all her friends too, why not!" It made everyone smile

admiring the florist's skill as she quickly put together a bouquet for a new order, I said something like "at least AI won't steal your job" and she said "with quantum computing, you don't know... not sure what it is but I read an article and it sounded scary." I said, I heard it's still impractical because the quantum computer particles need to be kept in very cold environments, like close to absolute zero, and she said "Quantum plants would thrive in your house."

Florist: "I'll accompany you for this delivery because the person who filled the form gave a 'turn left after the third mossy rock'-type of address"

I was invited at her house for lunch, and I asked warily "Does your husband still have swans?" She said "No, we only kept the geese. We have just 3. They're evil too but not as bad as the swans"

one of my favourite interactions was when I delivered flowers in a hamlet that could fit in my pocket, and a young girl who came to the door asked me in what village I lived, and I said, it's not a village, just a lone house in the woods, and she sighed "I wish I could live away from civilisation." I looked around us. Asked, how many people live in this village? She said, "Sixty." I said, "That's too many?" She said, "Yeah."

Final stats for today: I was offered a coffee 4 times, Mother's Day chocolates 2 times, and 1 meeting with baby pigeons; was startled by 1 goat and terrorised by 3 geese; petted 2 windowsill cats, and was asked if Pampérigouste was currently in her pasture 4 times.

[vashti-lives]

@garobenmonster did this forever ago and posted it in the beings discord!! Now… I need to go listen to that book again…

And as a reminder here is our quiet but not dead server!

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; male!reader

sukuna dry humping toji while he mouths at your cock through your pants.....

kuna is just rubbing his clothed dick right up against toji's ass as he's bent over, down on his hands and knees in front of you. kuna's hips rock into the other man's with every breath he takes and the hold he has on him is bruising, his lidded eyes glued to where toji's asshole is hidden under the material of his sweats, the lewd thoughs flooding his head.

you all feel way too fucking dizzy to remove your clothes, too in the moment to spare even a second to take your hands off each other. toji's drooling all over your bulge, his saliva making a proper mess of you. it mixes with the pre-cum that's starting to leak through and the subtle salty taste makes the man let out a content hum.

with every harsh thrust sukuna makes, his nose brushes against your waistband as he tries to take your whole tip into his mouth through your pants. your hips buck into his face and his head tilts up; his mossy green eyes are blown wide, dark with lust and his cheeks are completely flushed – he looks so fucked out already. his hand digs into the flesh of your upper thigh.

it's a moment between you two, just staring into each others eyes while happily drowning in the needy, thick air that swims around you.

that is until kuna's hips slam into his again, pressing toji's face against your hard cock with a breathy laugh. "how cute... got a pair of lovebirds here, hm?"

but toji refuses to argue with him, all the fight in him dying as the pleasure takes over. so he just decides to just nuzzle his face into your crotch again; he slips a little lower, just where your balls are and it makes you shift your hips and spread your thighs a bit wider. your head falls back onto against the couch and kuna's eyes travel over toji's arched back to your now exposed neck. he watches your adam's apple bob as you blindly card a hand through toji's hair and he cracks a grin.

"yeaah... tug harder." kuna's raspy voice reverberates through the whole room, his dick twitching at the sight of toji's burning ears. "he loves that shit."

toji's grip on you tightens, his insides flare at the comment. but his body betrays him, his own hips stuttering back against kuna's, making the latter laugh. "of course, you do."

he can't take it; having you splayed out so beautifully before him and sukuna's rough thrusts have toji's head spinning. the degrading quips and the burn on his scalp from you now actually pulling at his roots aren't helping either, his own cock painfully bobbing in the confines of his sweats.

leaning over toji's body, sukuna lowers himself so his lips brush against the shell of his ear, sending shivers down the man's back. kuna's red eyes find yours as he whispers to toji. "ya love it because you're a good fucking boy, right?"

the mocking tone in kuna's voice makes toji press his eyes shut and the man laughs again, his hips grinding into toji's hips even harder. feeling sukuna's body press against his, the weight of him, and the fact that he keeps forcing toji's face more and more against your bulge is getting toji way closer to his orgasm than he'd like to admit.

placing a hand on the couch right next to your leg, sukuna pushes him just enough to cock his head at you. the movement is enough to tell you what he wants, so you obey without a word – leaning forward while keeping a hand on the back of toji's head. now completely stuck between you and sukuna, toji can't move forward nor can he move backward and the pressure makes another glob of pre-cum spill from his tip. the mess he's making in his sweats is ridiculous; he's probably never been harder than he is now.

sukuna's hips halt as he raises his hand from toji's waist just to squeeze your cheeks together and smash his lips to your in a starved kiss. toji can hear the wet sounds of your tongues dancing together and he tries to wriggle his hips, desperate for sukuna to hump him again. kuna's dick rests right between his ass cheeks and toji is just a breath away from literally begging the man to put it inside. he needs more, he needs to cum so fucking bad.

when you start pushing his head into your crotch even more with a firm hold on the black strands of his hair, basically face-fucking him through your pants, toji moans. sukuna grins against your slightly puckered lips, his hand still on your face as he controls the situation. he's so fucking hard; the sight of the two of you being so fucking needy from just some heavy petting is definitely doing something to him. his ego grows, pride blooming in his chest when you mewl into his mouth.

pulling away an inch, sukuna keeps you there as he nips at your jawline. "he jerks off to the thought of you, did ya know that? he's fucking ridiculous."

your breath hitches just a little, toji's dick jumping at the shameful accusation made against him. but he can't even defend himself, his mouth busy drooling all over your bulge. eyes rolling back into your head, you sigh – it's hard to focus with the men being all over you like this. sukuna's word swim in your head, the filthy images of toji's fisting his cock to the thought of you making the knot in your stomach tighten.

luckily for the both of you, sukuna's feeling extra generous today. acting as if he's not about to bust all over toji's ass, he let's go of your pretty face with his lip tucked under his sharp teeth. he grabs onto toji's waist again; barely pulling away, he's just grinding into toji's backside with a ruthless pace. he thinks about fucking his cum into toji's tight ass. how good he'd look with it dripping out of him.

knowing that you won't last much longer, your lips itching to taste him too, you tug at toji's roots again but this time upward and away from your clothed dick, making the man hiss. his lips are all glossy, spit covering the sides of his mouth and his chin and he's even more red in the face now than he was before - he looks fucking exceptional. so you don't waste any more time by closing the distance between you, grabbing onto his cheeks and smashing your lips to his.

cum seeps through toji's sweats the second he feels your tongue swiveling against his. you taste sweet and a bit like kuna; you taste like want and need and toji can't help but moan into you. taking his hand from your bruised thigh, he cups your bulge, massaging your balls with his skilled fingers and it's enough to push you over the edge aswell.

sukuna wishes he could film the scene that's playing out before him. he watches toji melt into your touch, he watches you twitch from the overwhelming feeling of his heavy tongue in your mouth, he watches you both try and eat each others faces with such delight that it makes the corners of his mouth twitch up once more. but he completely loses his own sanity when your eyes crack open, staring at him while still making out with toji. oh, you're really something, huh?

with a last harsh thrust, you have sukuna's cumming in his pants, too. fucking himself through his orgasm, he keeps rubbing against toji's ass while keeping his eyes on you. your fingers are now playing with the longer hairs on toji's nape, the big man almost purring at the loving touch.

after a minute of just pure sounds of the three of you trying to catch your breath, sukuna pushes himself up from the ground and you smile lazily at the mess he's made of himself. the tough guy gives you a little 'tch', not even trying to surpress the smug smirk on his lips. toji crawls a little closer, hiding his face in the crook of your neck with a sigh, wrapping his big arms around your middle as sukuna takes a place next to you on the couch.

using your free hand, you caress sukuna's jaw, silently begging for him to look at you. and he does just that because no matter how much he loves mocking and teasing, he's weak for the both of you. his dark eyes meet your hazy ones and as if having a magnet inside him, he's inching forward to feel your lips on his again. his eyelids flutter shut and his nose brushes against yours but just before he gets to taste the glorious mix of you and toji on his tongue, you whisper.

"but you're a good boy too, right?"

sukuna's world stops. his breath fans your warm skin, his fingers squeezing your thigh as he gulps like a fish, thinking of a snarky reply. the sound of toji's breathy chuckle breaks him from his thoughts though. his eyes crack open only to see the other man smirking into your neck, and then he sees your own smile. hair disheveled, eyes lidded and lips streched as wide as they can, clearly proud of your comment; you stare back at sukuna before pushing further. "what? y'gonna argue back to me?"

knowing that toji is about to laugh again, sukuna's fist connects with his shoulder as he gives him a strong shove before falling back against the couch with the smallest pout on his lips. "fuck off."

you snake an arm around his shoulders, pulling his head onto yours as you press your lips against his cheek while tracing your fingers over the side of toji's sensitive neck. "my good boys."

+ @lxnarphase kissing youuu:333

[chatsukimi]

ｓｃａｒｓ： "ᴛʜᴇʏ ꜱᴀʏ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴋɪʟʟᴇᴅ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ʟɪꜰᴇ"

Sukuna x deceased reader. pt 1.

Sukuna whose flames are unleashed solely on special occasions. One day, when Yuji wonders aloud why he has two, he tells the brat to "shut up and get yourself your first technique before asking for seconds." Yuji winces, shutting up nevertheless.

Sukuna who quietens next to the bonfire on New Years. The open conflagration bursts and wanes. He peers at the sparkling flames, dancing before Yuji's worn out sneakers. He wills the boy to let him switch places- one minute, just as he had promised when Sukuna restored his heart. Now the Devil will restore his own.

Sukuna who appears, silent, next to a mossy pillar in the middle of a redwood forest; a trick of Cursed Technique, long lost. He only has a minute: prepare the incense, plant the prayers, spare one longing gaze at your statue. He clenches his teeth as he hears Yuji banging on inside his mind, but it's the one chance he has of being with you, alone.

Sukuna who had always been concentrated compared to the other Special Grade sorcerers, capable of miraculous devotion. Suffice to say, he likes it best when there aren't passerby's, mistaking zeal for shortcoming.

He sinks to the ground, bowing his head, pressing his palms together, before wisps of flame start drifting from between them, touching every candle and incense to life. Wisteria scents float over him.

In this forgotten corner of the world, all who remember you are the monks who tend this shrine, and the strongest of them all.

When Yuji wakes up, on the stone floor of the Fujiwara Clan's tombs, sputtering at the cold. Shocked, later on, by the violent burn in the middle of his chest he had never seen before.

"Curious..." Gojo murmurs, inspecting the wound. "Yuji, you're growing more and more like him."

This used to be his scar.

Sukuna who doesn't come out for days when Gojo informs Yuji about the Fujiwara Clan's destruction. What was he doing at the shrine? Why did he kill them all, the children, the soldiers, the wives?

Everyone assumes Sukuna's just tired of Yuji's moral clamouring. No one suspects he is drowning in the shadows of his domain, his head collapsed back onto the animal skulls, exhales spilling out in long drawn out phrases, in the nightmare he created.

Sukuna who used to hate fire because it quashed the dark, until he saw you manoeuvre flames and arrows as though they were a second skin. He was the Disgraced One, but you- you were kind.

Sukuna who was killed by you, when he killed your clan. He was promised your technique when he said he would protect you. He made a vow. He had to keep it.

So, when it came time, he had simply let you press your burning hand upon his chest and feel him recline in agony. He knew it would be the last time you touch him. He wanted to feel it burn.

"Sukuna, you told me you would try to get better. You told me you didn't care how the others saw you, about us- how could you lie to me?"

He never wanted to lie to you, of all souls. If it makes you feel better, he still thinks of you when he uses your flames, only on special occasions. Your strength, your grace, and the look you wore as you killed him, they all come wobbling, like moth to a flame. Like a lowly cast-away boy on his way, in rage, to destruction.

Sukuna who thinks to himself, "you have given your technique to me, but what if I had asked for your soul with mine forever?", looking for your voice in the flames.

It only cracks and cackles.

It is Yuji who first notices you on the street.

"Hey! Hey!"

You turn around. A boy with pink hair is jogging towards you. He waves.

"Oh. Hi, do I know you?"

"Don't think so. You just look really alike to someone I saw a while ago at a shrine."

You can't pinpoint what but the slit on his face... you can't tear your eyes from it. You shake your head. What is wrong with you today?

"I don't go to shrines," you say. Your fingers itch to reach out to graze his cheek. "... that's a cool scar you've got there. Both sides of your face. They say scars are where you were killed"

"Oh I've got many scars," he mutters sheepishly. "A big one on my chest, s'kinda lame though, 'cause I don't remember how I got it."

You laugh. "Me too." You drag your T-shirt neckline down just an inch, pointing at it with your thumb. "I was born with mine."

A scar.

A burn.

A flaming arrow.

Right above your heart.

[dreamspring]

im actually so proud of jongwoo. like. can we acknowledge the fact that this man went from getting 1 star in the early evaluation + being ranked so low no one even knew his name to making it all the way to the FINALS like. he proved himself in every performance and did so well and i’m so proud of him honestly!!! he deserves sooooo much appreciation

[sisterdragonwithfeathers]

If you watch Hermitcraft for no other reason watch it for the Bdubs builds

(especially his interiors)

also if you've never before understood the word skrunkly because this man is a creature

need more bdoubleo100 build appreciation on my dash. on webbed sites. on this blessed earth