#hollow bough

[kindlyfunkn]

Mine is the dense biozone, i love the unique plant-life (especially the big leaves that lift you up) + the big brain rocks, also the colour scheme is the most pleasing to me and it's cool when you dig and the dirt has red and blue on different facets it makes it look shimmery.

ALSO also the winding pits I like traveling up and down them making paths on the sides (also the thrill of one wrong move, and i plummet to my doom (THOSE WALLS ARE SLIPPERY)).

[not-so-ori-ginal]

yep, im not done with these, even if its been 6 months since magma core...

[drgscreenshotsthatgohard]

Big Cave 1: Hollow Bough

[ashlynniis-bracketeers]

(has an image ID. Hopefully it works. Never done an image ID before)

(written text described)

Totally Normal Hollow Bough {DRG}

I think I've been playing too much Deep Rock Galactic, it's starting to appear in my nightmares (like everything else I get into) ahsdgajksdgasd. Have something in MS Paint.

So yeah, weird dream/nightmare I had last night, about DRG. I was playing Scout and had two other teammates as a Driller and Engineer. I don't recall any space-rig action or really actually picking any mission type, just being in the mission that seemed to be in the Hollow Bough (wood texture, parasitic red thorn-vines, annoying geometry, etc.) just wandering because I don't really remember actually mining anything. Dreams tend to have whack geometry, and that definitely applies to this: Even outside of Hollow Bough's normal weirdness (big-ass vines, random tunnels, annoying verticality, etc.), there were a lot really "flat"/thin planes and I clearly remember both a weird shattered/broken "bridge" and that the entire bottom of the map + a visible skybox was a bottomless pit of stellar darkness.

"So, just seems like a weird dream. What makes it a nightmare?"

Outside if it being Hollow Bough (because I keep on dealing with stupid shit on that map lmao)? Well, uh.

The Bulk Detonator.

It wasn't invincible/the Ghost Bulk, thank fuck, but its movement speed was faster than my dwarf's running speed, and it was only going after me. The dream basically consisted of me running around for dear life and trying to be clever with my grapples to out-run what was basically a bullet train with an instant-kill radius. Not a good time. Outside of that, I remember getting rezzed by my teammates at least once lmao.

I hope you like it!

[snavian]

NEW POLL because the previous one has made me very curious!

[boinkyspoinky]

Currently helping out with making a silly pizza tower mod (My boy replaces Peppino) and one of my friends made this masterpiece of an image

[nek-ros]

I'm glacial strata

And I'm magma core

We are the too fucking temperature brothers

im glacial strata and im magma core. the random slowdown and fissure brothers

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

59 / 3.4k / part 3 of shark mermen Gaz and Soap with human!reader <3

kinktober keywords: dubcon, monster mermen, monsterfucking, teratophilia, overt predator/prey dynamics, hypnosis/hypnokink, praise

...

"You gonna behave?"

You bite your lip and keep your arms tightly wound around your upper half. "I thought I was."

The movement catches Gaz's eyes. They darken. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

He reaches out, catching your bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. He pulls it gently lower and lets it snap back into place, and your lip stings with saltwater. "That."

You squirm in his hold.

Gaz keeps his grip, but lets you keep moving. His gaze drops again to your lips and keeps getting lower until it's obvious that he's staring at your neck. Even if he weren't a predator sensitive to the quick heartbeat and rushing blood of startled prey, he'd see the nerves all over you. He draws closer.

"You're so small," he murmurs.

You press back, but it does no good.

"And weak," Gaz continues. The clawtip of his index finger presses into the damp flesh of your stomach. "I could crack you open like the shell of a clam. Can I touch you?"

Before you can answer, Soap's hands wander up your legs again. You tense. Gaz's tail tightens under you in response.

"Bit late to ask if you can touch her," Soap says in their mer-tongue.

Gaz ignores him. "Stay still," he murmurs, his tail tightening. Not quite enough to crush anything, but enough to restrict more of your movement. "I won't hurt you."

As Soap makes a grab at one of your wrists, the coldness of your skin and the quickness of your pulse sends a small thrill down his spine.

You try to still your movements and steady your breath. It seems like the more you squirm and protest, the more it snags their interest. You're pretty sure by now they're not going to eat you, but their interest in you has taken an unmistakably carnal tilt.

"See?" Gaz says. "You can be good." He drags his claw lightly over your belly again, and you feel all the muscles of your midsection tense. If it weren't for him squeezing you so firmly, you'd almost be lifted out of the water.

"Good," he murmurs again.

"What do you want to see? I already showed you my legs."

"Everything else."

It's a blunt, straightforward answer. The way Gaz says it seems almost disinterested—matter-of-fact—but his gaze is fixed intently on your belly. He wants to see every inch of you, the softness and the curves and the hollow spots and the sharp dips.

Soap's hands find your waist, and he pulls you closer in in a way that forces you to arch your back, bough toward him, and spread your legs wider over Gaz's tail.

You steal a glance down at the glass-sharp rocky sand and the cold waves rising in. "Here?"

They don't bother to answer. Gaz shifts your hips up his tail, contorting you further. Soap stares openly down at your tits through your wet shirt as he drags his massive hands down your thighs and back up in an exploratory motion.

Gaz's scales push up against the crotch of your shorts. Your brain skips. This can't be happening right now and you can't be feeling kind of hot under the collar about it. No, nah, nope.

You plant your hands against Soap's shoulders and push him back. "I said not here! Take me somewhere nice." No, that's not quite right. "Somewhere private."

nsfw ⬇

Gaz digs his fingers into your hips and pushes you further up his tail. The movement grinds you into him like he's starting to feel you get warm and wet.

"Yeah?" Soap purrs, letting you push him away. There's no way you could throw him off unless he lets you, but he does. "Where d'you want us to take you, little human?"

"Somewhere soft and dry."

The two merman trade looks with one another. Gaz tilts his head down at you and narrows his dark eyes. "I know a place."

You swallow. "You do?"

"Mmhm." His tail shifts beneath you. "Have you ever seen a merman's bed?"

"No..."

Gaz’s tone drops to something just above a murmur. "It's carved out of sloping reef rock and lined with the softest, sun-warmed sand. Perfect to lie in."

Despite his attempt to soothe you, Soap's claws catching the hem of your torn shirt make you even more tense. You grab his hand and push it down. A muscle in your jaw jumps with irritation.

Soap stops pushing, but there's a look in his eye that you don't like at all. He knows he's bigger and stronger than you. All he has to do is pull back a little too hard, and he could easily yank you off Gaz's tail and into his own arms instead. He can make you do whatever he wants, and he knows it.

It makes you all the more aware of the strength of his body between your knees. He could pin you down so easily—he could crush you with the sheer size of him—and you'd never be able to do anything about it.

Before either of you makes a move, Gaz growls at Soap in their mer language. Soap's eyes snap up to Gaz's. His face tightens. His hands loosen and slide slowly out from under your shirt.

You watch it happen with an unsteady glare. But now they're watching each other rather than you. It only holds for a moment before Soap pulls his gaze away. He looks almost bored as he lets his hands drift back to your thighs.

"Fine," he murmurs. But the look in his eyes still leaves you with the uneasy feeling that he isn't entirely done with you.

Fine is the only word of it you understand, but you still feel the agitation in their tone and the subtle shifts of muscles in Gaz's back and shoulders against your chest. Still, he seems fine with Soap's hands on you as long as he's not agitating you further.

You look down at Gaz's claws. His grip on you stays tight. He isn't rough, exactly, but his hands are big and his touch is insistent and slightly possessive. His hands drift lazily over your hips, up your ribs, across the tops of your thighs. It feels like he's keeping track of every inch of you he's already felt.

You squeeze your legs together stubbornly when he gets close to your inner thighs.

His grip is like iron. You feel the muscles of his tail working beneath you as he shifts to get you just right again.

"Let me in," he murmurs.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"And why not?" His hands wander up and down the seam of your legs.

You get the impression that he can smell you getting wet when you when you're squished up close against him like this. Does he think you're putting out crazy pheromones or something? A twinge of shame makes you look away. "Because we're mismatched."

"Mismatched?" He snorts and pulls you forward so you're leaning further back and against his chest. It exposes your neck to him and his eyes darken. "Your kind has a real obsession with categorizing everything, don't you? We can be matched just fine."

"But we're not, like, physically... you know... it would be weird. It's like having sex with an animal."

"I don't think humans are animals," Gaz murmurs. He draws his claws over the outside of your thigh--not causing pain or leaving marks, but stimulating the nerves under your skin with small jolts. "Besides in the literal sense. But then we both are."

You say nothing. His fingertips brush up the backs of your knees, and a shiver of awareness travels all the way down your spine to your toes. His voice is low and soft as he speaks to Soap in their language again. He rubs his thumb in tiny circles on the back of your knee.

If you knew what he was saying, you'd realise that he's telling Soap that you're nervous.

"It would be weird," you say again.

Soap scoffs. "You keep saying that word. Weirrrd," he repeats in a voice edged with disdain and mimicking your accent. "Why does it matter? There's no one else here."

Gaz tilts his head down in an attempt to catch your eye. "You're not even a little bit curious? You humans are always so desperate to know why and how things work. You used to poke and prod us. You're usually curious about stuff like this." His voice drops lower. "About new experiences. What if I told you that this could feel good?"

"It's still wrong." Even as you say it, you're starting to wonder. You're already pretty sure they won't hurt you. They would have already if they didn't care, right? But you can't bear to think about how disgusted people would be if they knew you were seriously considering this.

"You think it's wrong?" Gaz’s voice takes on an edge. "Humans have a lot of strange rules that don't make any sense. Do you really think we're that different?"

"Yeah."

His gaze drops to your lips. "That's what you humans get so wrong. You think everything means something. Rubbish. Sometimes things can just feel good. And this" --he strokes the sensitive skin of your ankle-- "could feel so good. If you let me in, you'll be warm and safe. That’s what you want, yeah? To be looked after?"

"I don't... I don't know."

Gaz hums and rubs your ankle. Your skin is softer than the salt-smoothed calluses of his hands, and your leg is so small. He feels like he would barely have to squeeze to break it in two. "It's okay not to know, you know," he says. "You've been through a lot. Can I tell you more about us?" he asks, voice low and soft. "About our kind?"

His voice seems to soothe your ragged nerves. "I guess so."

"Good human." He leans very close, his mouth against the shell of your ear. His hands tighten on your thighs again. You’re at his fingertips. You’ll be his in no time. "We're not so different. We hunt and we play. We fight and we... enjoy things." He traces his claw along the line of your legs again. "We can feel things other creatures can't. Sounds too quiet for other prey, smells under water, under the salt. We like the smell of other creatures. What do humans like to smell?"

"Um... flowers, I guess. And food. Baked goods."

He huffs a laugh. "What a waste of your senses." He slides his claw along the outside of your calf. "You humans like things to be clean, huh? Nice warm water and soap. So many rules and little rituals with your cleaning."

"Yeah, so?"

"But then you spend half of your time dirtying each other again. Fighting and rutting and making messes. Humans are strange. Your rules get in the way of your senses."

"We need rules to protect ourselves."

"You need rules to limit yourself," Gaz says. "No wonder you act so fragile. If you'd let yourself enjoy things, everything wouldn't seem so dangerous."

Soap watches you steadily. He can smell the way you're reacting as Gaz's voice washes over you and the way you melt slightly every time he touches you.

You huff. "That's easy for you to say."

"Humans keep themselves vulnerable. No claws, no callouses," Gaz says as he runs his free hand over your upper arm. Your skin is so smooth, he can feel the tiny hairs standing up as his hand passes over them. You really are like a seal—all big eyes and soft give everywhere and no bite to you whatsoever. Except your words, maybe. " How do you defend yourself like this? How do you hunt?"

You don't reply.

His hand finds its way into your hair, claws tracing lines over your scalp. "Do you know what it is to hunt by yourself? Taking charge when something catches your interest. Taking things that you want."

"Not really."

"It's thrilling."

"To be stronger and faster?"

"More than that. Feeling another creature's pulse beneath your teeth, hearing the crunch of bone as it gives way. Knowing you've caught your prey." Gaz strokes the hair back from your ear. His voice and fingers send pleasurable tingles down your spine. He pulls you closer to himself as he speaks so you can fully feel his large frame cradled around yours. “We don't have many possessions," he says. "We like having something that's ours."

"Oh."

"And humans are small," he murmurs. "So soft and small." He rubs circles into your scalp, and you feel his voice as much as you hear it. "So warm and pliable. Easy to hold and keep."

You catch Soap grin and realize you've been staring at him.

"See somethin' you like, hen?"

You flush and look away.

Gaz shifts to comfort you. "Don't look away," he murmurs. His big hand comes up and catches your jaw to make you look up at Soap again. "Watch his eyes. Listen to my voice."

You blink at Soap. Your mind feels sluggish. But Soap is nice to look at. And Gaz is nice to listen to. His voice is low and soothing. His hands drift. The fingertips of one hand trace your collarbone and the other strokes the softness of your throat. Your eyelids are a little heavy.

Gaz watches you for a moment before leaning very close. "Good," he whispers, and Soap's eyes darken. "Easy to hold. Just like I said."

You feel the vibrations of his voice in his chest. His voice soothes you so completely that the old legends about sirens enticing humans with their hypnotic voices surfaces briefly in your mind. Then it disappears.

His hand continues, and the soft, slow touches lull you further. Your stress ebbs away grain by grain. It’s replaced by anticipation. He rubs the soft skin of your cheek with the pad of his thumb, and you feel the calluses on his hands.

"That's a good human." He keeps using that low voice to praise you. Soft warmth and anticipation curl low in your belly. "Just keep looking." He slides a hand down your spine and across your lower back. Your muscles and your mind unwind slowly like a fraying rope. "You remember when I was telling you about a merman's bed, yeah?"

"Mm."

"That's good. Now pay attention. I want you to hear what I say. They're comfortable," he murmurs. "Warm and soft, all lined with sand that's been warmed in the sun. Perfect to lay in. To writhe in. To sink into." As if to show you, his hands slide under your wet shirt and press against the small of your back. He rubs the warm softness of your skin, and goosebumps rise where his hands pass over. "Imagine it. Imagine sinking in. Sinking in. Sink with my voice."

Your eyelids droop even more. You're sleepy.

"You're doing so well." Gaz feels how relaxed you are—the tension out of your muscles and how your limbs feel like they're melting into his. "Sink with my voice," he repeats. "You don't need to struggle anymore. Everything's alright. You're safe with us. Just let yourself… drift."

A sweet, heavy, warm softness like sinking into a hot bath. Like sinking into the sand under his hands. He guides you into a light doze and continues stroking your back and murmuring praise, your body growing heavy and lax beneath his warm hands.

"Shh," Gaz says. You're sinking deep. He guides you down into a soft, warm haze full of quiet, soothing sounds. Even Soap is watching you with a soft, rapt interest, not wanting to ruin the moment. They're taking care of you right where you belong. Deep. Safe. Warm. Comforting.

"What do you see in that bed with you?" Gaz murmurs. "One merman? Two?"

"Hmm?"

"Can't think straight, can you? You're so relaxed." He moves so his hands slide around your waist again. He knows you can't escape this time, even if you wanted to. And you look so sweet and soft. He knows you're almost asleep, almost floating away from him. "I know. Keep listening. Can you tell me what you see yet?"

"Blankets."

"That sounds so nice, doesn't it?" Gaz murmurs. His hands shift again, one drifting all the way to the back of your neck. His voice is as quiet and warm and comforting as a blanket over you. "Just sink into my voice. Keep listening. What else is in that bed with you?"

"Stuffed animals."

Gaz laughs, but it's low and soothing. "Like a child has? That's cute. But it's not like you need them."

You huff, your hypnotic trance vaguely disrupted by his words. "You asked me."

"And I got my answer." Gaz's hand slides up your neck to rest on your jaw. He strokes your pulse point again. "You're getting a little too close to falling asleep. You need to stay awake for this."

Soap has drifted closer, his dark eyes watching you. He looks hungry, but Gaz doesn't push you towards him yet. Not while you're so out of it. "Fine, fine." He rubs your neck again, and you feel your muscles melt under the pressure. "What kind of stuffed animal?"

"Hmm..."

Gaz hums back, his voice deep and soothing. Your eyes are already so heavy, your body is so relaxed in his arms. Your breath is slow and steady, and your skin feels warmer to his touch. Gaz can smell the change in your scent, your body's response to him—to all of this.

"I'm curious now." His voice is low and dark against your sensitive ear. "If you're going to have stuffed animals in your bed, I want to know what kind."

"Octopus."

"An octopus?" He murmurs. "So you want something with so many arms to wrap around you? Something tight and big?" He's so close to your ear now that his lips brush it. "You want to be wrapped up and covered and surrounded?"

"Mm... maybe. Yeah."

Your voice is heavy with drowsiness. He keeps you skirting that line between consciousness and sleep. Your body in his arms is puppet-like.

"You want to be surrounded by so many arms. Maybe even pressed against us with no space to move, yeah?" He slides a hand down your stomach.

"Mmhmm."

"Mm. So you want to sink into a nice bed, surrounded by an octopus with its big, plush arms. Surrounded on all sides with soft, soft tentacles that cover you. You want something big and soft and heavy on top of you--resting between your legs and keeping you warm and safe." His hands slide around you again. "Would that make you feel safe and protected?"

You murmur an affirmation.

"And do you feel safe and protected here? Now?"

You murmur another one.

Something like a smile curves Gaz's mouth. It's sweet that you're answering without thinking. "Mm," he hums, and he slides both hands down your thighs. His claws trace little circles on your sensitive skin. "Very good. Hold onto that feeling as you come up, human." Gaz lifts his eyes to Soap's. "We're just curious. We won't hurt you. We just want to see what you feel like. Is that alright?"

"What I feel like?"

Soap looks down at you. You barely open your eyes. Barely even react, even though you can feel his claws grazing your thigh, even though his eyes are dark and his lips parted slightly. Your eyes are so heavy, your brain so slow.

"Mm," Gaz murmurs again, and his chin brushes your ear. "Your skin's soft. Soft and warm. We want to feel you." His hands slide up your chest again, your breath shuddering at their passing, and he holds you up so your back is against his chest but your legs are still spread over his tail. He smiles. You're so close to sleep, but he doesn't want you to miss this. "Shh. You'll see. You just need to let us touch you, okay?"

"Oh." You let your legs slide to the sides of Gaz's tail and into Soap's waiting palms. "Okay."

...

part 1 / part 2 / [part 3] / part 4 / part 5

more Gaz / more Soap / more mer au / masterlist

[aroaceleovaldez]

Jason webweave - (sources under read more)

yippee i have attempted a webweave. this was very fun. i used to make character aesthetics and moodboards and tbh i might get back into it with this.

SOURCES -

Part 1: [The Last Olympian quote] - [Jason Background] - [Up The Wolves - The Mountain Goats] - [Terry Pratchett] - [Youth - Daughter] - [The Lost Hero chapter formatting] - [Andrei Tarkovsky, Journal 1970-1986] - [The Lost Hero cover - John Rocco] - [Coins of Lupa] - ["Singing someone's praises whilst destroying them" quote] - [Yosemite Background - James Lange] - [Jason overlay] - [Always Gold - Radical Face] - [Hollow quote] - [Sweet Hibiscus Tea - Penelope Scott]

Part 2: [SPQR banner] - [Jason nails a bough to the prow of the argo - William Russell Flint] - [The Lost Hero quotes] - [Knight And Dog quote] - [Jason overlay] - [Wolf overlay] - [IMHSBALIDWD - Waterparks] - [Herd dog quote] - [SCA Roman fighting] - [Coins of Lupa] - [Mimi's Delivery Service - Good Kid] - [Take Me To War - The Crane Wives]

Part 3: [The Lost Hero quotes] - [Lab Animal quotes] - [Cuckoo 1] - [Wolf in shipping container] - [Storm background] - [Jason (mythos)] - [Cuckoo quotes] - [Coins of Lupa] - [Wolves biting] - [Cuckoo 2] - [Wolf background] - [Jason overlay] - [Where You Are - Disney's Moana]

Part 4: [Jason background] - [Wolf Children (2012)] - [Lupa] - [Going Postal At The Party - James Marriott] - [You Are Here - James Marriott] - [Your Sister Was Right - Wilbur Soot] - ["What's your wingspan?"] - [Canary in a Coal Mine - The Crane Wives] - ["Everything I love belongs in my mouth, everything I hate belongs in between my teeth"] - [Car Lights - James Marriott] - [Forget-me-nots] - [Coins of Lupa] - [Two gray wolves] - ["I can't remember / I can't forget"] - ["I am very young and learning how to live"]

[shares-a-vest]

@steddiemas Day 1: Deck the Halls (Festive Friday)

Something short and silly to start off with. I'm so excited for this event. Thank you sooo much to @steddieasitgoes for creating it 💖💖💖 I love writing Christmas stuff for ST and I have a few things planned for the Steddiemas calendar.

“Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-laaaaaa.”

Steve would cringe if he wasn’t carrying most of the weight of the Munson’s new Christmas tree in through the front door and trying to avoid scratching himself on either the branches or the metal frame of the fly screen.

Eddie is behind him, muttering the same tune over and over, just high enough for Steve to hear, but not loud enough to call attention to himself.

He’s been like this all day – too cheery and chipper as they decorate the trailer while Wayne is at work. Busying himself with not much more than his chiming, his tone all wobbly and hollow like a kid carolling.

It’s far too early in December as far as Steve is concerned. Hell, he doubts he will even decorate his own house this year.

What’s the point if he will be home alone?

And, as Eddie lets go of what part of the tree he was barely holding in the first place, Steve begins to regret offering his help entirely as he goes careening onto the couch.

“Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la.”

“Eddie!” Steve splutters, rolling on his side and palming around on the edge of the couch for support.

“What?”

He looks up to find Eddie smiling and twirling the end of his maroon scarf.

“Could you have actually helped?” he snaps.

“You said you ‘got it’!” Eddie makes half-hearted air quotes and lowers his tone in what Steve can only assume is supposed to be a mockery of his own voice.

“Asshole!” he grumbles.

“Grinch!”

Eddie pokes his tongue out at him before offering a dimple-filled grin.

Steve glares, “Can you at least bring in the box of decorations?”

Eddie turns on his heel and skips back out the front door.

“Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair and groans. Maybe he could just run out the front door, elbow Eddie out of the way of the car and speed off into the distance.

“Why am I here?” he mutters to himself.

He takes the opportunity to catch his breath and looks the tree over. Thankfully, it isn’t damaged - save for the odd fallen pine shoot.

Eddie soon hops back up the stairs, winter boots shaking the metal landing as he cradles the box of decorations they had gathered between Melvads, Goodwill and the dollar store.

“I love Christmas!” he beams as he sets the box on the coffee table to begin rummaging, “Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la.”

Eddie hands over a bauble. It’s red and green, the stripes broken up with gold glitter. One that Steve had picked from Melvads’ Christmas aisle.

Their fingers brush as Steve takes the bauble and he looks up to find Eddie grinning from ear to ear.

That’s why he’s here, he thinks, smiling back.

[kayawolfhorse]

Day 7 — Between Your Teeth

—☾—

Pearl kisses the top of Tilly’s head in a hasty goodbye before scrambling down the rickety ladder at her tower’s core. When the ground is close enough to make out the individual blades of grass, Pearl releases her hold and curses when she feels the damage tick in her ankles. Normally, she wouldn’t mind sending a tickle or two Scott’s way, but Scott definitely knows what she’s planning now.

The forest is a blur around her as Pearl careens through dense underbrush and just barely avoids getting caught on low-hanging branches. Birch turns to oak and gentle hills give way to a steeper uphill climb until finally, Pearl reaches spawn.

The clearing is about the same as she remembers it to be; a meadow overlooking the plains below, miraculously untouched by the snow that cascades down the side of its crest. The only difference now is a group of seven stones in its center, arranged in a perfect circle, a golden apple set upon each one. It stands empty, the apples untouched; Pearl is the first to arrive.

Pearl slowly approaches the circle. Every apple is identical, but as she looks between them, something tugs at her heart, like a string suddenly pulled taut between her ribs. Extending her arm, she allows the invisible line to guide her hand until it closes over the easternmost apple.

Nearby, a twig snaps. Pearl snatches up the apple and holds it in a tight fist as voices draw nearer, rustling in the boughs of the forest around her until they emerge into spawn.

Scott’s bright blue hair is hard to miss amidst the brown trunks, and the laugh he shares with Cleo is achingly, hauntingly intimate.

“I figured that’s why you were in such a hurry,” Scott says to Pearl after he looks from her hand to her face, and Pearl swears he sounds smug.

Pearl grits her teeth before displaying them in a too-wide smile. “Well, wouldn’t you look at what we have here! I couldn’t let just anyone get a hand on this, now could I?”

She holds her victory aloft, and in the morning sun its golden flesh shines with the faint purple sheen of enchantments. Pearl’s next inhale is a little sharper. They all know what regular golden apples are rumored to do, but this—Pearl’s not sure.

Scott’s gaze is calculating as he takes it in. Scoffing, he says, “We both know we’d be better off if you ate it.”

Before Pearl can respond, Martyn comes crashing through the trees, stumbling at full speed towards the stone circle before stopping abruptly when he catches sight of the two empty spots.

“Cleo-oooo!” he whines, to Cleo’s smirk.

“You really think I’d trust you with this?” Cleo says, raising an eyebrow. “You’d get us both killed!”

“C’mon, we’ve got no clue what it does!” Martyn says. “You’re just going to eat it for yourself.”

“You’re damn right I am.” Cleo raises the apple to her lips and bites down. Martyn flinches hard, half-reaching for them. Scott looks on with vaguely detached curiosity and Pearl holds her breath.

Nothing visibly happens. Cleo frowns at the fruit in their hands, and Martyn straightens up in relief. Its unbroken skin is a punch to Pearl’s chest when Cleo twists their wrist to reveal it. Her win over Scott suddenly feels very hollow.

“It didn’t even work,” Martyn says, between a short laugh and a cheeky grin.

Cleo fixes him with a stare. She’s not glaring, but the sentiment behind her unwavering yellow eyes is all the same. Pearl’s tempted to clap her hands, just to see what would happen.

Soon enough, Martyn shifts, and Cleo tosses their hair over their shoulder. “I’m not breaking a tooth for this fool,” they declare, and walk back over to Scott. Addressing him, they ask, “And you?”

Scott shrugs. “She’s got the apple. I don’t care.”

Cleo glances at Pearl before looking back at Scott with an expression that speaks of concerns she won’t raise until they’re back in the safety of their base.

“Can I at least have the apple, then?” Martyn asks, joining their little group.

“No.” With a decisive swipe of their hand, the apple disappears into Cleo’s inventory, and Martyn hums in disappointment.

“Well!” Scott says after cheerfully letting the moment linger too long. “We’d best be on our way. Don’t want to be here when the reds show up.”

“Right,” Cleo agrees. “I’d say it’s been nice, but…”

“Yeah, yeah, point taken,” Martyn grumbles. “I’m out of here.” He trudges down the snowy side of the hill, muttering complaints as he goes.

Neither Scott nor Cleo offer Pearl anything more before they take off together, leaving Pearl standing alone. Her fingers flex. She wishes she had thought to bring her powdered snow bucket.

As she strides back home, she purposefully takes a few landings from too high up.

—☾—

Pearl tosses the wretched thing between her hands and groans in frustration. Tilly looks up from her spot beneath the window and tilts her head at the noise.

Tucking the apple into her pocket, Pearl drops onto the floor next to Tilly and wraps an arm around her. “I just don’t know what to do.”

As far as anyone knows, there’s only ever been one golden apple within the boundaries of this world, and it’s long gone now. This was supposed to be Pearl’s chance to finally unbind the shackles between her and the soulmate that never wanted her, and she can’t even eat it.

Magical foods tend to be tricky things, meant only to be pierced by the recipient’s bite. Slicing it would ruin its properties, as would any sort of denting, cracking, or otherwise tampering. Pearl had thought that maybe Cleo just hadn’t bit down hard enough. Her own aching mouth proves otherwise.

Tilly turns and snuffles into Pearl’s side. Pearl laughs and scratches between her shoulders, and Tilly leans into the touch hard enough to almost topple them both.

“I’m glad I have you, Tilly,” Pearl says, smiling something bittersweet. “No matter who the universe stuck me with, I know who my soulmate really is.”

—☾—

The weight in her pocket grows heavier as the games continue on. Pearl doesn’t know why she bothers keeping the apple on her person. She can’t bring herself to put it properly away.

It becomes a comfort in the center of her palm. It’s a perpetually painful reminder of inevitabilities outside of her control. She debates throwing it at Scott a few times.

Weeks later, after the apple against her hip has become a permanent bruise, the finale is finally upon them. Pearl begrudgingly teams with Scott until it makes more sense to split up, and she relishes in leaving him for once, even if he had technically agreed to it. Their shared health is a liability; it was never going to work out.

Pearl and her wolves hunt through the night and watch the sun rise on what she knows deep in her gut to be the final day. Death reins like lightning around her as pair after pair are sent to what lies between this world and the next.

Her vision turns red in the wake of Tilly’s death. Pearl kills Impulse and Bdubs in a blind rage; Martyn and Cleo fall to her blade soon after. Suddenly, jarringly, the world is quiet, save for the quiet yips of the few wolves still wound around her legs. Pearl gives them the last bit of food she has and wonders if this is the end.

Pearl meets Scott at spawn. The game is not yet over.

Scott strips away his armor and places TNT at his feet. Striking flint to steel, he looks up at Pearl and says, “You deserve this more.”

Lurching backwards with a yelp, Pearl exclaims, “Excuse you? What do you mean?”

“You do.” Scott crouches down and sets the TNT alight. “Tilly death do us part.”

Pearl scrambles for the apple in her pocket in the ticks it takes for the spark to eat away at the fuse. Grasping its smooth surface, she brings the apple to her mouth and bites as hard as she can, even as a tooth shatters and her jaw screams in agony.

Just as the world goes up in a catastrophic symphony, her mouth floods with sweet ambrosia and the metallic tartness of her own blood. Her scrapes and bruises knit themselves back into unblemished flesh as Pearl is flung backwards into the tree behind her.

Scott is dead. The wildly pounding heartbeat that rings in her ears is hers alone. Pearl, a lonely victor in an empty world, has won.

[mudandmire]

WIP Wednesday - Ghost

Azriel made a deal with the Mother thirty years ago: his service in return for Eris's life. Azriel leaves no impression on the world anymore, no footprints or sounds. The only thing he leaves behind are rivers - endless erosions of blood through the stone he bore the day Eris died. His obedience, in return for Eris's survival. There is no other way.

...

There are no footprints in the snow. This close to the border Autumn has with Winter, the clouds hang low to the tops of the conifers. Thick, grey blankets heavy with the flurry of flakes that fall fast to the Autumn floor. Everything is dusted with it, the shells of leaves, the shrubs and weeds that carpet the ground—every burrow is sealed away. Somewhere high in the mountains, the jaws that cut the line of the territories, he waits.

Azriel stands unmoving in a clearing. His feet make no imprint, his breath no steam. The watery, pale light frosts over the scene before him, where even the vivid jewel patterns of autumn fade to grey tones. His chest rises and falls, the only movement apart from the dry bones rustle of barren boughs against each other in the canopies.

Every sense is at attention. The hunter, the executioner—both have been called to this ceremony. He just happened to get here early.

His wings twitch when he hears boots in the snow. The crunching of new frost, hurried footsteps and the scuffling sound of a struggle. All that greets him when he inhales deeply is the crisp scent of cold. A familiar smell from his youth in Windhaven. It burns through his nose all the same.

"Fuck—stop struggling." There, a voice through the trees. Gruff, like it was spoken into the collar of a jacket. He can sense the strain in the words—they're dragging something.

Azriel's head tilts just so. The movement is eerie under his hood, predatory. A wolf cocking its ears. His hands remain behind his back under the fold of his wings. Patience, after all, is part of the fun.

Again, a voice reaches out to him, brought on the hissing tendrils of his accompanying darkness—his shadows.

"I thought you said the faebane would be enough!" It's a normal voice. The rounded vowels of the Autumn Court, and a slight rasp in the throat like he'd been strangled one too many times.

"I—shit, I did. That's what she told me."

The other males scoff is ugly, locked up from the chill this far up the mountain slope.

"That's the last time I let you be in charge of the sedative."

Azriel's tongue swipes out, wetting his chapped bottom lip. He can taste the tang of their stress in the wind; bitter like ripened sweat. He feels the pound of their pulse through the breadth of the snow covered ground if he shifts his feet just so. His eyes close. He won't look, won't cheat. Not yet. Besides, he knows all he needs to know about these males: their heads, the nervous trembling to their blue-tinged fingers, the darting of their eyes to every spare corner of the forest. Cornered, disturbed, unafraid to lash out.

He knows that whatever it is they have, has no right being sedated. Hauled like a sack of rice to a little, forgotten corner of this Court and disposed of to no one's eyes under the unsympathetic grey blanket of sky.

No one's eyes, except Azriel's.

He shifts, finding the thread of the males pulses through the ground. Beneath him, the coating of snowfall lays pristine.

The shuffling grows closer, as does the grunts of exertion. Azriel can smell them now, the acrid tang of their sweat and the fetid scent of their breath. Day old alcohol, still lingering on their lips, high in the rosiness of their cheeks.

"Here, we'll do it here." The one with the rasp says. Azriel keeps his back turned at the hollow thump of a body against the earth.

It's pulse is there; weak, but still thumping. The antsy rabbiting of a heart that knows it needs to fight.

His shadows still. Unnatural in its right; the shadows are constantly moving, shaping, bouncing where the light grows and shrinks its domain. Now, they go preternaturally quiet, the buzzing in his head fades as they slink around his shoulders.

This, this, they whisper. We do not know what to make of this.

Azriel nearly rolls his eyes at them. It is not the first time they've had an assignment like this. In now thirty years it certainly won't be the last.

He figures now is as good as any time. The males seem distracted, their muscles loosened with ease, warm with adrenaline and the thrill of getting away undetected.

Foolish, foolish souls. They are not worth the blood on Azriel's blade.

This, this. His shadows hiss again, a rising chorus of confusion and spite that sparks embers in his blood.

Azriel turns, silent as the flakes fall, and freezes.

Bright, copper hair spills out onto the snowdrift. A streak of an auburn ribbon in the ever-white world, this in between space of bejeweled autumn and pale winter. His face is turned, right half buried in the swell of the drift. A bruise, like a roiling thundercloud, blooms along the left side of his cheekbone up to his temple where it disappears into his hair. He's pale, skin nearly translucent where it's pressed to the cold snow, blue at the lips. The only color that remains, not leached from his body or under his twitching eyelids, is the copper shock of his hair and the purpling, violet-green contusion on his face.

This. The shadows round his shoulders, his wrists, legs, the tips of his wings and hum.

The first male, the one who seemingly botched the sedative, stretches his back.

"Mother's tits," he curses, blowing hot air into his cupped hands. "Let's get this over with so we can get somewhere warm." His dark, brown hair escapes from behind a pointed ear.

Azriel hasn't moved, hasn't drawn a single breath. The entirety of him is motionless, even his shadows don't dare to make sudden movements. His gaze, under the shade of his hood, is locked on the spill of copper hair. They map upwards from there, tracing it like the curves of a river until they land on familiar, but unknown territory.

There's a hollow in him. A space once filled but now not. It echoes when he brushes against it, that old, familiar pain rising up with a gasp and a bite to his heart. Tripping, tumbling, till it knocks against the bones of his rib cage and continues to beat against them. He can faintly feel the bond. This close it's drawing him in: two ends of a book closed together, and he craves it desperately.

Azriel sucks in a breath, harsh and cold, shocking him enough to blink his frozen stare away. Burned cinnamon, and the delectable smell of that nutty, slightly earthy scent greets him.

This, this, this. It's grown into a chant, his shadows moving in the strange, halting way they do when there's an end—a goal.

Eris Vanserra has been brought here to die.

Azriel of the Mother has been ordered here to kill.

...

~~~ This is just a fun lil something I thought I'd share. I've been pondering it for a while, but honestly I just got so caught up in all the logistics and if it would match the lore that I lost interest and passion completely. It's only been recently that I've come back around to it because I said screw it - I like this concept, I want to explore it. If it doesn't match the lore or timelines - to hell with both of them! Fanfiction is for fun! I know SJM lore is important and whatnot, but I'm a little kid playing in a sandbox with my bucket and shovels - there is nothing but limitless potential here :D ~~~

[miasmaghoul]

anything little dick mountain.... PLEEEEASE

anything you say?

okay.

how about little dick mountain and nonbinary intersex mist getting stoned and fuckin around in the woods?

thats something.

"This is nice," Mountain murmurs, twirling a lock of fine silver hair between two fingers.

"Always is," Mist lilts in reply, plucking the half-burned joint from Mountain's other hand. They offer him a slow wink, and Mountain grins.

They've been here for a while now, naked and sprawled out beside Mist's favorite stream deep in the woods. It's a tranquil place, serene and nearly silent. The babble of the water soothes something deep in Mountain's core, as does the late spring sun filtering through the boughs above. The warm light dapples Mist's pale skin, washes them in an ethereal glow, and stoned as he is Mountain can't help but touch.

Mist hums on an inhale as a large hand caresses their shoulder, rough fingers tracing the intricate lines of the tattoo there - a sea serpent with fangs sharp enough that even the ink threatens to cut. Mountain could study it for hours, could spend an age gliding his fingertips along every curve. From the tip of the tongue that sits just above the barely-there swell of Mist's chest to the tail that ends at the small of their back.

Mist's slight hand rests on Mountain's chest, delicate fingers fiddling with his chest hair, and he takes a moment to admire them.

They look exquisite; silver-blue eyes reddened and heavy, hollow cheeks crested with pink, gills rippling as heady smoke flows from them in entracing waves. Mountain lowers his head to drink it down, his hand sliding around to rest between Mist's shoulders while he noses at their throat.

"Greedy," they tease, voice light. Mountain chuffs, dragging the tip of his tongue along their jaw. Mist sighs, tilting their head and taking another deep pull, burning the joint to its end. Mountain feels their lungs fill under his touch, and something about it makes him throb.

"Can you blame me when you taste so good?" Another lick, and Mist trills, amused.

"Not even a little."

Another plume escapes Mist's gills and Mountain sucks it down, holds it in. He pulls away with a curl to his lips and finds Mist peering up at him expectantly, the tip of their tongue poking out between needle-sharp fangs. Mountain threads long fingers into soft hair, grips gently, and when their lips join it's in a cloud of sweet smoke.

It's slow. Languid. A relaxed meeting of tongues, an exchange of breath and saliva alike. Mountain's hand glides down the length of their spine, a brief journey that ends with his palm on Mist's sharp hip, fingers dimpling the subtle curve of their ass. They shift a bit, hook a leg over his thigh, and Mountain chuckles at the almost imperceptible weight of it. He smiles against their lips.

"I always forget how small you are," he murmurs, and Mist rewards him with a sharp tug to his chest hair. He gives them a hiss, one that fades into a pleased hum when cool, bony fingers drift down over his stomach.

"No you don't," they say, clearly amused. Mountain pulls back just enough to catch the sparkle in their eyes, a glint of brilliant sapphire in those pale irises.

They're right, of course. It's impossible to forget how tiny Mist is in comparison to him, how seemingly frail. Elegant limbs, bony joints, slender from head to toe. He has a solid two feet on them, and who knows how much weight, but on the rare occasion Mist hunts him down for these trysts it's never them that seems to feel small.

That wandering hand vanishes between their bodies, and Mountain lets his own hand travel down the creamy thigh over his hip, squeezing along the way. Mist licks their lips, gives him a sharp smile.

"But I could say the same about you, big guy."

They punctuate that statement by wrapping deft fingers around his cock, and Mountain groans as he feels them engulf him completely. The one place where he is decidedly not big.

"Oh, someone's excited," Mist sing-songs, giving his little stiffy a nice squeeze. He shivers with it, hips rolling already.

Mountain can't deny it - truth be told he's been chubby since Mist caught him on his way back to the abbey, arms full of freshly snipped roses that Primo had requested for his chambers. He'd pawned that task off on a nearby sibling, content to follow his dick and the stunning ghoul before him instead. Mist thumbs over his sticky head and Mountain huffs out a tight sigh.

"Sensitive as ever," Mist taunts, loosening their grip and giving him a couple of soft little pumps that have Mountain's eyes rolling back. "Planning to blame the weed?"

He always does, but they both know better.

"I can if you want," he rumbles, hitching Mist's leg higher on his hip. "But it's easier to blame you."

Mist laughs, loud and bright in the surrounding silence. They shift closer, close enough that Mountain can feel the brush of their pebbled nipples against his chest, their piercings pressing chilly into his overwarm skin. Mountain drags blunt nails up their thigh, relishing the goosebumps that appear in his wake. He slips his own hand between their bodies, and Mist smiles. They wrap a spindly arm around his neck, arch their back, and with a loose rock of their hips Mountain feels the firm length of their dick press into his thigh

"Looking to return the favor, sycamore?"

Mountain doesn't try to hide his whine, there's no point. He always gets noisy when they do this, and all the high does is make him more willing to let it out. He wraps an eager hand around Mist's already slick length, and they reward him with a tighter grip on his own. Mountain groans deep in his chest, leaning down to knock their horns together.

"You're really hard," he murmurs, the hand in Mist's hair drifting down to settle at the back of their neck, angling their lovely, handsome face towards his own. "Gonna blame that on the weed?"

Mist doesn't deign to answer, getting a nice handful of his hair and licking a wide stripe over his stubbled cheek instead. Mountain feels himself throb in their hand, feels Mist leak over his knuckles, and as they catch him in a decidedly more hungry kiss Mountain lets himself be overwhelmed.

It's easy to do. The smooth swipe of their tongue along his own and behind his fangs drags him further and further down. The slowly tightening channel of Mist's hand pulls pearl after pearl of pre from his firm little cock, the slick sound of both of their hands filling his head with static. Mist's nails rake over his scalp, just sharp enough to provide the hint of a sting, and Mountain doesn't even try to hold back his moan.

It's nice like this. No rushing, no frantic urgency, no pleading for more. No need for it. They both know Mist controls the pace of these stolen moments, and Mountain has absolutely no problem with it. He lets himself enjoy the kiss, the taste of Mist filling his mouth. Fresh and clean with a specific sort of bitterness Mountain has come to crave, all of it accentuated by the herbal flavor of their shared smokable. It's intoxicating, and before Mountain knows it he's panting into their mouth, starved for more.

He pauses on a downstroke, wraps a finger and thumb around the base of Mist's twitching length and slips two fingers back between their legs. He moans out a curse at the slick heat he finds there, swiping his digits through their folds. He dips just one inside, and the tightness he finds there has his stomach swooping.

Mist purrs into the kiss when he swirls it inside, abandoning their grip on his short length in favor of grabbing his wrist. Mountain doesn't fight when they pull his slippery hand from their body, maneuvering it instead to hold the both of them together.

Mountain has to pull back then, chest heaving and eyes glassy as Mist guides him to stroke. The feel of it is exquisite - his large palm is rough, callused, but Mist leaks so much that it eases the glide in moments. The sensation wrings a pained gurgle from him, and Mountain can't keep himself from rocking his hips. From letting his tip kiss the underside of Mist's, every drag of their cocks against one another sending his head spinning and forcing heat to swirl through his belly.

"Fuck," he breathes, long and low. "Mist, fuck -"

"Feeling good, aren't you?" Mist sounds entirely too calm, as they always do, but the way they pulse in his hand betrays them. "Think the little guy's ready for me yet?"

They rock their hips just as Mountain does, ruts their cocks together, and Mountain makes the most embarrassing sound. He gives a quick nod, sucking his lower lip between his fangs, and before he can do anything more Mist is rolling him onto his back. Straddling his hips. Moving him like he isn't at least twice their size everywhere except where it counts.

"That's better," Mist says on a sigh. They settle on their knees, palms flat on his chest, and Mountain gazes up at them with what can only be called unabashed adoration. Mist smiles down at him, tossing the silver curtain of their hair over their shoulder. Mountain rests his hands on their waist, loving the way his thumbs overlap just below their navel. "Don't you think?"

Mountain offers up a dumb little sound of confirmation, too busy visually feasting on the little ghoul above him. Soaking in every angle and curve, every ridge of their gills, the sparkle of their nipple rings and the shimmering black scales decorating their collarbones and the vee of their hips. His gaze halts there, caught completely on the way their shiny pink cock sticks straight out between their skinny thighs.

Mist doesn't miss it, their lips curling into a positively cheshire smile while they scoot forward. While they settle themselves over his own aching length where it lays on his stomach, leaking pre into the smattering of hair there. Mountain chokes on a moan when they shift just enough to drag their dripping cunt over his little cock, and it's a miracle he doesn't cum right then and there.

Not that Mist would allow that, of course. He knows better.

"So warm," they murmur, moving their hips in gentle circles that have Mountain's thighs quivering. "How badly does he want it, hmm?"

"Bad," Mountain rasps, doing his absolute best not to hump up against Mist's inviting body. "He wants in so bad."

Mist trills, a deeply pleased sound. They raise up just enough for Mountain to see the thick trail of slick that connects their bodies, and his cock kicks so hard he grunts.

"Looks like it," Mist chuckles, gripping him again and giving a slow stroke. A blurt of pre leaks over their fingers, and Mountain's balls ache. "Little thing's drooling all over."

Mist is one to talk, their own dick dribbling a nearly constant stream of sticky fluid that pools in Mountain's belly button. He can't get his breath under control as they raise up, pointing his needy little cock up into the air while they line up.

Mountain isn't sure which of them moans louder when Mist sinks down onto him, impossibly tight and so, so slick. He grips them tight, fingertips digging firm into their back, their stomach. He watches the flat plane of it tense when they bottom out, taking his few inches with an ease that leaves his toes curling.

"There we go," Mist coos, narrow chest flushed pink as their leaking tip. They pluck at their nipples, rolling the stiff buds between their fingers and sighing. "You always fill me just right, don't you?" Mountain nods furtively, not trusting his voice when Mist clenches around him. "A perfect little cuntful."

Mountain lets his head thud back against the warm earth, swallows hard, and when Mist starts riding in an achingly slow rhythm he swears the world tilts.

"Be a good boy and make me cum," they say, low and sultry, peeling one of his hands from their waist and moving it to their swaying cock. "If you do well enough I'll even let you eat your load out of me."

Mountain whimpers, starts to stroke, and silently adores the way Mist laughs at him when he drools.

[cyberwhumper]

    “You can sell the guns.” The words are so quiet, murmured through the kid’s blue-tinged lips, Rex almost doesn’t hear them. “Keep…keep the horse. She’s good…be real good f’r you…”

        Rex growls low in his chest. “Quit talkin’ like that. Ain’t ever known you to give up so easy.”

        The ghost of a smile crosses Montez’s face. “You ain’t ever…known me…at all, lobo.” He’s leaning heavy on Rex, head bowed under the weight of lost blood and cold in his bones, and Rex curses under his breath. The kid’s not dying on him here. Not now.

        “You ain’t allowed to bite it. I don’t get paid so much if I show up with a corpse.”

        “Yo…se. M’sorry. That’s why I said…sell the guns…”

        Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. Rex feels like he’s gone half-mad himself. He shouldn’t give a rat’s ass if Montez lives or dies. He’ll still get half the bounty, and the ride back will be a hell of a lot quieter without the kid yapping beside him. And Montez’s black mare is a real beauty.

        He could sell the guns.

        “...God damn you to hell, kid.”

        The pass is thigh-deep in drifting snow. Rex tugs his hat way down low over his brow, squinting against the wind, and spurs the horses on towards a tangled copse of pines. There’s a scanty little lean-to among them, he can just spy, somebody’s abandoned hunting blind, and it ain’t much, but it’s something.

        Montez is in and out of consciousness, drifting just as much as the snow is. He’s got barely any weight to him as Rex gathers him into his arms, like some stupid parody of a man carrying his bride. Christ knows neither of them are ever gonna get to do that for real. He blinks heavy lids up at Rex as the bounty hunter lays him down, eyes unfocused, big and dark and wet as a calf’s.

        “Easy, boy.”

The pines are dense enough that there’s still some pockets of dry wood in the boughs, and the pitch makes it catch the sparks off Rex’s steel real hungrily. He pulls Montez into his lap, as close to the fire as he possibly can, and yanks the kid’s shirt open, none too gentle.

“Mmn…que…haces…”

“I said easy.” Rex growls again. Montez took the shot right in the fucking gut, just down left of the navel. A hit like that is almost as much of a death sentence as the price on his head is.

Almost.

Rex drags his hunting pack over, cradling Montez in the crook of one arm as he digs out his knife and the last of the whiskey.

“Drink,” he orders, coaxing the kid’s pale lips apart with a knuckle. “This is gonna hurt.”

“Ahh…Dios…te salve…María…llena eres…”

“Shut up, kid.” He gets a slug of whiskey down Montez’s throat for the pain, one into himself for courage, and the last of it splashed onto the bullet hole, making Montez whine and buck weakly against Rex’s hold. “I know. I know. Here.” He unsheathes the knife and rests the blade in the fire, slipping the leather belt between Montez’s chattering teeth. “Bite.”

The leather isn’t enough to fully silence the howl that tears out of the kid’s throat when Rex sinks the red-hot point of the knife into him. The sound makes Rex’s stomach clench a little, to say nothing of the smell, but he digs the bullet out quick as a snake, and lucky for the both of them, Montez is fully unconscious before Rex has the knife reheated to press the flat of it to the wound.

Rex lets out a breath he didn’t fully realize he was holding, sending a white plume of fog in the air. He gently pulls the belt free of Montez’s slackened jaws and bundles the kid’s limp body close against his chest, as far inside of Rex’s big leather duster as he can get him, resting his head against his own broad shoulder.

He really does have the eyelashes of a baby cow, Rex thinks. He finds himself staring at Montez’s face openly. Softly. The curve of his nose, the hollowness beneath his eyes, the line of his throat down to his bared chest, the slightest ragged rise and fall of it. He’s so goddamn cold. Rex brings hesitant fingertips up to trace the rosary around his neck, letting the turquoise beads slip between his fingers the way he’s seen Montez do a hundred times, rolling the crucifix between his knuckles.

The Lone Wolf never learned how to pray, but. He thinks you get credit for trying.

“Dios te salva…Maria…weyva…fuck. Please. God. Whoever. Please, just let him…let him make it through the night. Just through the night, kid. Please…”

[Fic by the exceptionally talented @bxtterflystxtches , who I have the honor of collaborating with for this event. Please show him some love!]

[OC INDEX]

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[unvexes]

there, on the pendant boughs her coronet weeds

headless: a sleepy hollow story (2022) / ophelia, sir john everett millais

[the-fiction-witch]

Little Squirrel

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Cute AF

Warning for panic attacks + Abuse

Y/n (me) has a baby (named Lillian) (previous relationship; the father was mentally and physically abusive). Y/n’s baby gets sick (not deadly, just a cold or something) but Jack looks her over and instantly falls in love with Y/n. Y/n likes him too but is scared to get into another relationship. Y/n has panic attacks a lot. Jack helps her and takes care of Lillian as well. Becomes a father figure to Lillian as she grows up. Y/n and Jack fall in love and have another child. POV can be either Y/n or Jack. It can have time skips so that it’s not so long, but I would love to read a lot of Jack helping Y/n with the panic attacks and Y/n during the pregnancy of the second child. There can be parts that are NSFW, but that doesn’t need to be the focus.

"Rock a bye baby on the tree top...When the wind blows the cradle will rock... When the bough breaks the cradle will fall... And down will come baby... cradle and all." I sang as my feet danced gently across the wooden floor, my bare feet gracefully moved across the wood as I held sweet little Lillian in my arms, her head on my chest I kept my hand on her head feeling the heat of her fever. She had been feeling sick the last day or two slowly getting worse, But I just wanted to get her to bed for the night, "Hush-a-by baby on the tree top... When the wind blows the cradle will rock... When the bough breaks the cradle will fall... Down tumbles baby... cradle and all." I sang to her giving her a little kiss before I laid her down in her crib, and tucked the blanket over her and her sweet little teddy bear in her arms, "Sleep well little one," I cooed before I sat on my bed. 

I made sure to watch Lillian as I got changed, unable to stop my fear for her.

I left the room and moved to the bathroom standing by the sink to brush my teeth and looking at my pale reflection, my  hair still in the braid I did a week ago, my Y/E/C eyes seemed hollow to it all. As I glanced at my reflection my whole body jumped as for a moment I saw HIM in the mirror stood behind me. I jumped and washed my face knowing in my better judgment that he wasn't there, but as I looked up and met my reflection again he stood beside me his hand grabbed my neck and I screamed, But again. Nothing there.

I gasped my heart racing, my anxiety overwhelming, the sound of the tap running, my own gasping, ringing in my ears and Lillian crying in the bedroom. 

I forced my own emotions away and ran to the bedroom to pick her up in my arms and soothe her cries, until finally, she fell back asleep so I returned her to her crib and laid down on my own bed for a few moments just staring into space trying to feel calm. 

As much as I didn't like it I knew I didn't have a choice, I walked into the Port Victory Royal Hospital with Lillian on my hip in her little cream dress her  hair in a ponytail. Poor little thing had been coughing all night and her fever had gotten no better, I walked in and up to the small window where a man sat typing on a typewriter. He didn't even look up at me.

"Yes?"

"Hello, I uhh I need to see a doctor for my daughter."

The man looked up at me and glared before he looked back down, "Room three Doctor Dawkins will see you." 

I nodded and went to the small room he told me to, I sat on the bed and I gave Lillian the soothe as best I could trying to make sure she felt okay even if she coughed away. 

After a while the door opened to a strapping man in brown lace-up shoes, some tight brown trousers, and a white shirt with some very large sleeves so long that his cuffs that should have been tight around his wrists were loose halfway down his hands and soaked with bloodstains, a textured blue waistcoat that didn't fit him correctly as his suspender clips poked out the bottom, a green tie around his pushed up collar even if one side was flattered down, he had a sweet face, freshly shaven, and a head of blonde and brown hair that seemed to bounce as he swaggered confidently into the room. 

His brown eyes met me and for a moment he stopped short looking me up and down as his smile grew, he moved his hands behind his back and a wide smile moved across his lips, "Morning,"

"Morning, Doctor Dawkins?"

"The Very same," He nodded, "You are Mrs?"

"Miss actually, just uhh just Y/n is fine."

"Y/n." He smiled, "A very beautiful name and a ravishing young lady, You are welcome to call me Jack,"

"Ohh that's alright-"

"No no, I insist." he smiled as he cleaned his hands, "Now how can I help such a... gorgeous young lady." 

I blushed instantly not being used to hearing such compliments even if part of me tried to put up a wall knowing the sort of things that follow compliments. "Oh, Thank you. But not myself doctor this little one," I said bouncing Lillian on my knee, 

"Ohh I see, The even prettier littler lady," He smiled, "May I?"

"Just uhh be gentle with her."

"Of course, I'm a doctor I'm always gentle." he winked before he picked Lillian up and cradled her in his arms she quickly saw his face and began to giggle at him, "Awww aren't you a sweetheart, what's your name then little one?"

"Lillian," I answered, "she.. uhh doesn't speak yet." 

"Humm unusual for girls her age, still we all go at our own pace." He said, "You have a very charming name Miss Lillian, and a very beautiful big sister." He smiled at me,

"Ohh she's my daughter."

"Daughter? Really? You're far too enchanting to be a mother already." He chuckled sitting on the bed with me as he checked over Lillian, I did put a little space between us but I still wanted to be close to her. "Hang on... Miss? and Lillians your daughter?"

"Yes, doc- Jack."

"Alright, I don't wish to impose but her father is he-"

"six feet. I'd rather not talk about him."

"Okay. I'll do my best not to." He nodded, "How long has she had a fever?"

"A few days now, but the cough only started last night."

"I see, I don't imagine she's sleeping?"

"Not much No," I nodded, "I- I worried it could be whooping cough or tuberculosis, perhaps cholera or typhoid," I explained each word filled me with more panic my heart racing, my mind flooded with fear as I couldn't hold my panic anymore,

"Whoa. whoa. it's alright. It's alright." He cooed as he took my hand, "Shhhh shhh shhh, I'm here. I'm right here. Everything's okay." he said as he soothed me down from the edge of my panic, "It's alright, it's all alright. Lillian will be fine. it's just a cold." He reassured, "I can give her some medicine and she'll be right as rain giggling away in no time."

"Thank you, Jack,"

"You're very welcome, my best advice is to give her the meds before bed and get some sleep yourself." He said his hand resting on my shoulder but I flinched away, "sorry... forgive me I-"

"It's alright, sorry I uhh... I think we best be going,"

"Of course," he nodded handing Lillian back to me, "if you need anything I'm always here alright,"

"Thank you," I nodded, 

He got us the medicine and told me how to give it to her and he gave her one more cuddle before we left, "You get better now you hear me, don't want you causing your mummy any more trouble hey you little jumpy  squirrel," he told her which made her giggle, "And keep well yourself Y/n,"

"I will, thank you, Jack." I nodded, "How much do I?"

"You're welcome," He smiled, "No charge don't worry about it Y/n I know things can't be easy for a lady alone so don't worry over it."

"Thank you," I smiled, I left the room trying to hide my joy, such a sweet man but I did my best to force these ideas away.

I sat rather nervously but still, I needed to get it all looked at, as usual, we were sent to the same room and soon enough Jack arrived with a wide smile,

"Awww why hello, if it isn't my two favourite young ladies, she got another cough or some tummy troubles?" He asked as she cleaned his hands and came over, 

"No uhh, it's not Lillian today,"

"No? Oh... Everything alright Y/n." He said sitting beside me, 

"It's my head, these headaches last for days and they just don't seem to want to pass."

"Ohh you poor thing, alright let me have a look." He said moving to sit behind me on the bed, "May I?"

"You may," I nodded even if I was nervous the mere touch of his fingers was enough to make me jolt, 

"It's alright, just me." he reassured me in an almost pillow-talk tone, he stroked his callus fingers across my temple, then through my  hair, and he moved his hands to massage my scalp which admittedly made me lay my head back and almost moan it felt so nice and relaxing, "Ohh christ... you are tense." he muttered, "When you put Lillian to bed how long till you go yourself?"

"Immediately but I'm up a lot with her."

"I see" he said his hands moving down but the moment I felt his hand on my neck my skin boiled, my blood ran cold, my breath became sharp, my heart raced and I moved away as quickly as I could as tears began to flood my face, "whoa. it's alright. I wasn't going to hurt you. I'm sorry... I'm sorry Y/n I should have said something. Forgive me please."

"It's okay... you didn't mean to."

"It's alright, I should have asked first please forgive me."

"It's alright Jack."

"Okay," He nodded as he held my hands and helped me to calm down again, "I think I know what your headaches are,"

"Oh?"

"Tell me even without Lillian waking you do you sleep through the night?"

"No, very rarely," 

"I thought as much, You need to get some rest you're exhausted." 

"Well I have -"

"I know you're a very busy lady, but if you stay here you can get a good few hours of sleep."

"Here?"

"Of course, they're not the comfiest but you can get a good sleep here."

"But Lillian."

"I'll take her,"

"Yo-you'd really do that,"

"Of course," He nodded happily taking her and cuddling her in his arms, "You need to rest Y/n, you need some good sleep, I am perfectly happy to look after her till you get some rest."

"You don't have to do that,"

"No but I want to," he smiled, "You get some rest, she'll be perfectly fine and safe with me I promise,"

"Thank you, Jack,"

"You're welcome," He smiled kissing my hand, "sweet dreams Y/n," He said as he got up carrying Lillian on his hip, "Now you my little  squirrel are going to come have fun with me while your mummy gets a little nap. Yeah? that sound nice. a little fun afternoon with Doctor Jack?" He cooed, "Come on then you can be my little mascot," He told her as they headed out, 

I laughed but washed my face and hands getting into the bed and doing my best to avoid nightmares as I lay down and tried to get some sleep. 

I did get some decent sleep, and when I woke up my headache was all but gone, and as I sat up I saw a sweet sight Jack stood leaning against the table holding Lillian in his arms playing with her, I giggled to see them together. 

"Awww Hi Y/n," he cooed,

"Hi, was she okay?"

"She was an angel, absolutely perfect, such a sweet little  squirrel," he cooed, giving Lillian's head some kisses, "she was my little mascot today round the ward everyone said how cute and well-behaved she was, and she was even my little mascot for surgery weren't you?"

"she was?"

"Yeah she came and sat on my hip like I did the amputation she was good as gold, kept the guy really calm actually said he didn't want to yell cause he didn't want to upset her, I think more doctors should start carrying around babies,"

"That... doesn't seem sanitary." I laughed, 

"Good point, but we washed her little hands, didn't we? Between every patient we stopped and we washed out little hands," he smiled rubbing his hands in front of her and she quickly moved her hands to his like they were washing them, "Yeah there we go, wash wash little squirrel," 

"Aww that's sweet," I smiled "But babies like putting things in their mouth Jack,"

"Yeah, I noticed that she seems to really like sucking on my scalpel handle, 

"she might be hungry,"

"Ahh yes. Good point. I'll feed her if you're still tired."

"Thank you Jack but I'll get her home,"

"Of course, I'm glad you are feeling better. You know I'm more than happy to take her days you need a little rest, maybe even get one of the nurses to look after her and you and I could go out and have some more grown-up fun."

I blushed hard at such an idea, I did want to but my fears were far too intense, "Thank you but uhh I think I should stay with her,"

"Of course forgive me. Have a nice afternoon you two."

"Thank you, you have a nice day too Jack," I smiled, 

Once again I was back here and arrived at the hospital to see our usual doctor sitting on the bed as he wondered in, 

"Ahhh there's my favourite patient." He smiled as he saw Lillian happily taking her in his arms, "How is my little  squirrel? I have heard you had a little bonk?" he cooed, 

"She fell out her crib,"

"Ohh? Well, what do we expect? Little squirrel must have been trying to climb out and go on an adventure." He cooed, "Let's have a little look." He said looking over her, "Let's get you some bruise lotion," He smiled handing her back to me, "And I'm sure a kiss from your mummy will help too,"

"Aww I'm sure it would," I smiled,

"...Do you think... the doctor could get a kiss too?" 

I blushed hard but I couldn't help to give his cheek a little kiss, 

"Awww! See don't you want that Lillian, it certainly made me feel better." He winked, 

"I think she's just upset she doesn't like getting bruises," I said kissing her little head, 

"I know I don't either, but she'll be fine once she gets some bruise lotion on it, and as she's been such a frowny little squirrel, how about a caramel?"

"She doesn't like caramel,"

"Aww, me either. Alright, but I'm only doing this becuase you my little squirrel," He told her going into his pocket, "How about a little lemon sherbert Hu?" Immediately she went to reach for it, so he unwrapped it and snapped it smaller giving her the little pieces, "But don't think you're going to get this all the time, these are my privet little sweets."

"That's very sweet of you Jack,"

"Well, she's too sweet to say no. You both are Y/n," he smiled kissing my head, 

I stood in the alley doing my best to ground myself my body shaking and Tears streamed down my face, as I cried hysterically, my breath short and shaky, my throat choking and tight with every breath, my mouth dry and sickly, my heart raced to jump in and out my chest, my fingers and toes numb, my head dizzy almost to faint, my every limb shook and sweated, my stomach churned and turned like a hurricane, I couldn't even think, or even begin to know where to start to fix myself. 

"Ohh it's my little  squirrel and- Y/n?" Jack approached as he came down the alley himself of course her first spotted Lillian in her pram and then me, "Y/n what's the matter?" He asked as he came over, "It's okay, it's okay, You're not having chest pains are you?" 

I shook my head and he held my hands in his, he kept me close to him and walked me through my breaths wiping my tears and keeping me in a grip that made me feel so safe but not smothered, he gave me time and space and made sure everything was alright until my panic attack began to melt away to nothing but memory,

"Are you alright?"

"Yes... Sorry Jack forgive me I-"

"It's alright. You frightened me. I'm just happy you're okay. You get these a lot?"

"I do... a lot of... bad memories sometimes come back."

"What sort ofg bad memroies?"

".. Lillian's father. Forgive me-"

"No, no I'm here if you need me you know that. You and Lillian. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to." He said wrapping my arms around me to pull me into his chest, for a moment the metallic twang of blood hit my nose mixed with his sweet mahogany scent but I found it somewhat comforting, "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere, I won't do anything to hurt you, or Lillian. you know that. I wouldn't dream of ever hurting my little  squirrel and her lovely mummy," 

"You mean it?"

"Of course I do," He said kissing my head, "Come on I'll take you both home."

"You don't need-"

"AH. I said I would. Doctors orders I'm taking you both home" He said as he pulled back and took her handle of Lillian's pram, "Hello you, you alright? Happy little squirrel now mummies feeling better? Good come on then Doctor Jack will read you a story," he told her, 

I nodded and led him back to my little apartment where I put Lillian down to bed, "Uhh have a seat, I guess," I said sitting on my bed,

"Is this really it?"

"Yep."

"You and Lillian? just in this little room."

"yes, we uhh her father use to live with us but of course he uhh..."

"Y/n... I don't want to push, you don't have to tell me but... where is Y/n's father?"

"...Dead."

"How'd be die?"

"He fell down drunk, down the stairwell and broke his neck."

"Ohh... Y/n, I'm so sorry."

"It's alright,"

"Did he drink a lot?"

"He did."

"Did he... No. Y/n... Did he... hurt you?"

I nodded frozen at the idea I was telling anyone, 

"Did he hurt Lillian too?"

I nodded, 

"...Is that why she wouldn't talk?"

"I think so. whenever she cried He would slap her. She learnt not to open her mouth. She cries again now but that's all."

"It happens in children, they learnt early on not to talk I'm so sorry Y/n, If I knew I'd-"

"It's alright, over now."

"Is it? or is he still lingering in your mind?"

"he still does I'm sorry Jack I-"

"Hey, Y/n listen to me." he said taking me in his arms, "I swear to you. I would never ever dream of hurting you. Or Lillian, I'm a doctor. All I want is for you both to be happy and healthy. I care about you, both of you." 

"I know you do,"

"Will you let me take care of you? both of you?"

"Just care for us?"

"I think you know I want more than just caring for you both." He smiled, "If you'd let me."

"...I'd like to let you,"

He smiled and rubbed his nose against mine as she stoked my cheek, "May I?"

"You may," I nodded,

He smiled and closed the gap letting our lips meet. 

I smiled sitting in the little hospital room with Lillian on my lap, as the door opened,

"Awww it's my lovely gorgeous stunning ravishing lady," Jack smiled as he saw me coming to kiss me, "And my little  squirrel too? I'm getting spoilt today." He smiled kissing Lillian's little head as he took her and gave her a bounce, "Not that I don't love to see you but why are you here? you were both alright when I left this morning, this couldn't wait till I get home,"

"No, I was coming into the hospital anyway,"

"Not to see me!" He pouted, 

"No to see, someone else."

"Who? What for? you're alright aren't you both?"

"She's fine."

"And you?"

"... I have some news, Jack."

"Wha- what is it?"

"We're gonna have a baby,"

"A- A baby! Y/n, you mean it!"

"I do midwife told me today, we're having a baby," 

He set Lillian on the floor to play and immediately took me in his arms giving me a million kisses, "Ummm I love you. I love you. I love you so so much. You are so beautiful, so perfect, you're gonna grow our sweet little baby!" He smiled 

"I love you too," I smiled, 

"We're gonna have a baby..."

"we are." 

"I couldn't be happier my darling," He smiled before he kissed me and went picking up Lillian, "You're gonna get a little brother, you excited little  squirrel,"

"I'm sure she is." I smiled,

"Now, you are going on a baby-friendly diet, you are going to relax, have nice hot baths, and I will be here to give you as many back rubs as you need." he smiled "No arguments."

"Yes Jack," I giggled,

"Perfect," He smiled, "And I'll look after Lillian so you're not overwhelmed, and even if you get so much as a whiff of a panic attack I will drip everything to take care of you, Y/n. I promise,"

"Thank you, Jack," 

I smiled as I headed to the hospital courtyard where I spotted Jack waiting for us, 

"Aww, there's my lovely ladies," He cooed, 

"Ahh little one has something to show you," I smiled, 

"Oh?"

"Go on then sweetie," I smiled putting her little feet on the grass,

"You're kidding?" He smiled excitedly as he watched her wonder over to him even if she almost fell a few times, but he scooped her up and soaked her with kisses, "Look at you! such a big girl! you're doing so good! My beautiful little squirrel," He cooed, "You are becoming just as beautiful as your mummy," He smiled, "Now you are walking there is nothing my little squirrel can't achieve! she'll be head surgeon by Sunday."

"I think she has a way to go with that yet Jack," I laughed, 

"I guess, but look at your mummy isn't she glowing? absolutely ravishing," He smiled giving me a little kiss I smiled and gave him a sweet kiss, "She's beautiful isn't she Lillian?" 

"I think she'd agree I am a boat." I laughed stroking my bump,

"Awww you're a very beautiful boat. a boat I shall happily steal and live my life on if I must." He smiled, "How is our littlest one?" He asked stroking my bump,

"Kicking away as usual."

"Alright, come on up to the office I'll give you a back rub, put Squirrel down for a little nap and give littlest one a cuddle and a kiss," He cooed, "Come on let's head upstairs," 

I smiled as I sat in the little bed tired but happy, as I held our little boy in my arms his little eyes were barely even open, Jack beside me playing with little Peter's fingers, Jack had just cleaned off his hands from helping me with the birth. "He's beautiful,"

"He is, he's so perfect."

"Are you okay Y/n?"

"I'm alright Jack," I smiled leaning on his shoulder, 

"Good, I was worried for a while there but you did amazing. My strong beautiful wife." 

"Thank you, You were strong too I don't imagine it was fun for you."

"Terrifying. Watching my own son come out of my wife. knowing if I do anything wrong I might seriously hurt both of you. Yeah not exactly a fun time for me." he laughs, "but it's all worth it, for this little guy," 

"It truly was," I smiled, "Shall we?"

"Shall we? I think we shall." He cooed giving my lips a kiss and little boy's head a kiss before he got up and went out for a moment so I gave our little boy some kisses until Jack returned with Lillian in his arms he brought her over in her little blue dress sitting her on his lap as he sat on the bed, "Lillian? Sweetie, My sweet little Squirrel, this is your little brother."

"You're little brother, Peter, he's very excited to meet you," I smiled letting her see him a little better, 

She came closer looking at him playing with his fingers curiously, "P-peter."

Immediately I got choked up to hear her sweet little voice, the first thing she'd ever said to us, 

"yes, that's your little brother little Peter." Jack smiled,

"Peter." she nodded before she gave Jack, I and Peter a little hug, "Love."

"Aww, we love you too Lillian,"

"We love you very much little squirrel, you, and your little brother we both do." Jack told her, "And I love mummy very much too," He smiled at me,

"I love Daddy very much too," I smiled giving Jack a sweet kiss,